Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or it's characters, that right belongs to Hiro Mashima.

Cracking bleary, crusty eyes, Lucy grimaced as what little light shone in the dim room made pain lance through her head. Groaning, she let her eyes slid shut again. The pain was not her friend, and this feeling was becoming all too familiar to her. This made what, like the fifth or sixth time she had drunken herself to oblivion? And she was more than aware of the fact her teammates had noticed it. Gray had approached her first at the third time she got blitzed. Which she just laughed off.

Then came Natsu, at her apartment no less, trying to be rational with her. It had made her very cross, and she had punted him out, through her wall and not the window, to the street below. Then had to go on a small, single-person mission to get enough Jewels to fix the damned wall. Next was Erza, last night she knew she had said some vulgar things. Vaguely recalled the hurt in her friend's brown eyes. Alcohol was making her mean and nasty. But they had no right to tell her she was harming herself. She was a fucking adult for cripes sake, and it was her choice to drink. No one complained about Cana!

Shifting her body, whimpering at how stiff she felt, Lucy cracked her eyes open again, hissing as the crusties at the corner of both eyes dug into the sensitive tissue of her tear ducts. Glancing around her room, Lucy noticed that this was not her room. Causing panic to set in at a rapid pace. It was a foreign room, definitely masculine. A bit plain, as if the person had no concept of what interior decorating was at all. It was making her curl her lip as she thought about what had happened after her little spat with Erza.

She had left the guild, angry and barely able to walk. Hell, she was sure if she looked at her knees, they'd be scraped up badly. Lucy recalled, just barely, falling two or three times. Then there was a deep voice that was both familiar and not at the same time. The person asked if she needed help. Of course, in her angry alcohol-induced haze, Lucy had taken the good-natured offer wrong and did something. Then the world was shifting, and she recalled before passing out being carried, feeling the warmth radiating through only one half of her body. Now, she was Star's only known in a strange man's house.

Swallowing to try and force spit to moisten her mouth and throat, Lucy slid her legs over the edge of the bed, fighting off a wave of nausea that came with her massive hangovers. Envy for Cana, who seemed never to get those. Being careful, Lucy put her feet on the floor, surprised that the wood was warm to her feet. Like warm, causing her to look down at it, wondering if this guy, creeper that he was for bringing her unconscious to his house and sleeping with her, had heated floors. Sniffing to dismiss that train of thought, Lucy took stock of her appearance, realizing she was still completely dressed, her belt with keys, and whip still at her waist. Just her shoes had been removed.

This had her a bit confused, but she was not about to question it as she half walked and half tottered to the only door in the room. Her hand grasping both the doorknob and the wall as another wave of nausea hit her. With deliberate slowness, she turned the knob and pulled the door open. She didn't know where this person was, who it was for that matter, and wanted to escape with her dignity before they thought to expect shit from her for helping her.

What she saw on the other side of the door left her stunned and leaning against the doorframe. There was again a simple and plain living room, that was also homey. It held an extra-long couch whose back was to her, a small, ornately carved coffee table and matching end tables at either end of the sofa and next to the only chair, which was a blue leather recliner. A simple cream shag carpet set off the dark stained pine wood. The far side of the room had a writer's desk that had a scroll pull down top and hand-carved chair. A small entertainment system that had a rather large radio instead of Lacrima Vision TV on it. Loads of CDs everywhere.

Darting her eyes around, she saw a few pictures on the wall, all of the landscapes that were very obviously hand-sketched and painted to boot of the ocean, hills outside of Magnolia, and a few mountainscapes. Each framed in simple, again hand carved, lightly stained pine wood frames. It told her a lot about this random person. They were artistic and liked to live simply. That and their plain taste was very homey.

"Lucy?"

At the sound of her name, she whipped her head to where the voice came from. Only to clamp her lips shut and take a deep breath to keep from vomiting at the sudden movement. Eyes slamming shut in an effort to help keep from emptying her damned stomach's contents of the night before. Alcohol and more alcohol. Not exactly a good choice, but the pain of loss had to be numbed.

"Hey, breathe, or you'll pass out, Lucy."

At the sound of the voice, which was now right before her, as she felt warmth rolling off of whoever this person was, Lucy cracked her eyes open — grimacing at the crusties once more hurting her. She saw a slender torso, that was covered in a worn black Axis of Awesome t-shirt. A parody band Lucy loved to pieces. Tilting her head up, she froze as her eyes met dark red eyes that were worried. Flinching a bit back and dropping her gaze, because she didn't know what to say or do. And instinct told her not to meet his eyes. Or the eyes of any of his teammates.

She was exhaling as she heard a slightly pained whimper from the man before her. She knew her action of not meeting his eyes hurt. And right now, all she wanted was to leave. Why did he even bring her to his house? Why help her? He didn't know her, and other than their two brief encounters of Fantasia and on Tenrou when they fought, he had nothing to do with her.

"You are right on all those accounts, Lucy. But you are Nakama. And I found you stumbling and hitting your knees. Which by the way I bandaged. You passed out before answering me where you live, so I brought you here. Again, Nakama, I will help you regardless," he said softly.

She watched as he backed up, giving her space. His arms crossed over his chest as she just looked at his shirt. A small smile playing across her lips as she recalled one of her favorite little shows for the band called 4 Chord Song. And she knew that he was right. He had done nothing wrong. Hell, from the looks of how rumpled he was, he'd given her his bed.

"Great Band," she said awkwardly.

This had a low, deep rumbling chuckle coming from him and causing Lucy to jerk her head up to look at him again, just to have the world rush around her. That was not a sound she had ever expected to hear from one of the guild's biggest clowns and perverts. It was a beautiful sound. But first, she had to regain her now failing balance thanks to her quick movements. Reaching out on instinct, she grasped the front of his shirt as she fell forward.

"Dammit Lucy, you need to get some toast and water in you, then you can have a cup of coffee," he said.

Then she was being picked up as if she weighed nothing at all and was carried over to the couch and set down. Frowning as she was also bundled into a thin, but still, body warmed wool blanket, Lucy watched as Bickslow walked out of the room. His large and lean body was moving with a grace she had never seen before. Each footfall on the wooden floor silent, as if he was feather-light. Then her mind asked, where are his babies?

He stood at his kitchen counter, waiting for the toast to finish. It was a huge risk he took when he had found Lucy on her hands and knees, the latter scraped and bleeding as she dry heaved. It was clear to him that she was pissed drunk again. And the last few times she had ripped into her teammates about it. He had heard her curt, demeaning cut down of Erza. That was a bashing he didn't want to witness, unlike the rest of the guild. So, he had left out Laxus' office window on his babies. Avoiding any and all attention he could have drawn to himself.

His concern for the vivacious blond was his own. Not even his teammates knew his thoughts where she was concerned. Though, he knew all their thoughts and worries. He had just laughed it off and said she would be back to normal soon. Though, Bickslow knew that was not true. Whatever had caused that hurt that was making her drink to forget; it was not something quickly resolved. But he knew from personal experience and caring for Cana, that Alcohol solved nothing. Just muted it and put it on the back burner until it festered and exploded.

The click of the toaster as it finished drew him from his thoughts. Grabbing the four slices of hot bread, he tossed them haphazardly on a plate and picked up the glass of water. Making his way back into the living room of his small two-bedroom house, Bickslow saw Lucy leaning over and tracing the patterns he had carved into his coffee table. Her eyes were shining somewhat brilliantly from behind her hangover. Delighting in finding each new image. That piece was one of his pride and joys.

"Here, Lucy, drink and eat, it will help," he said as he stopped next to her and set the food and drink on the table before her.

When she peeked up at him through her blond bangs, Bickslow had to suppress the delight he felt at how grateful she looked. She was indeed a beautiful person. And he could see her soul, how it was hurting and growing gray instead of that pure shimmering white and gold. It bothered him. If he could get her to open up and talk about it, he was sure he could help though Bickslow didn't know how or why he thought that, just that he was able to help her with this problem possibly.

"Thanks..." Lucy mumbled as she nibbled slowly on a piece of toast.

"You are welcome, Lucy," he said in reply, moving to sit across from her in his reclining rocker.

It squeaked from his weight before it leaned back. His frame was a bit too large for it, but he didn't care, it was comfy, well broke in. He had had it for almost fifteen years, and refused, even by the pain of death to give it up. This was his throne. The one major thing he looked forward to when he came home from an extended mission, or just a rough day at the guild. Ironically it was almost every day. That and listening to whatever type of music struck his fancy.

"Bickslow?"

At the sound of Lucy calling his name, he blinked and looked at her. He realized that he had gone off into his little headspace again. It had been a rather common occurrence since the end of the war. He was often annoying his teammates, though they did understand. Each had experienced something that had shaken them to their core, on top of all of Fiore being completely rearranged.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Uh, where are your babies? I have not seen them hovering around you," Lucy said, shoving the last bite of her current piece of toast in her mouth.

This had him blinking before he laughed. His magic was different than others. And well, he could leave it on all the time and never feel the drain unless he used attacks like Baryon Formation and Crumble. So, this was rather amusing, to say the least for him. Not even his teammates knew this about him. Giving a small shake of his head, as he ran his hands over his puffy little blue mohawks on his head, feeling the short natural black stubble of his hair he had just buzzed a few days ago.

"They are resting. My magic is special, kind of like yours. I do not have to turn it off at all, but they needed a rest and to be free of the totems," he stated bluntly.

After saying it aloud, he felt pensive. He didn't talk about his magic, not ever, other than to just give a brief description of it dealt with the souls of those dead and unable to move on. But he was telling her this. Yes, he did like Lucy, check. Their magic was somewhat similar, check. She was easy to talk to, check. And oddly, he felt at ease like he could trust her completely. A feeling that was almost foreign to him.

"Oh, well, that is a unique aspect. Thanks for sharing," Lucy said.

He could tell she was grateful at him telling her. And it made him feel a bit awkward. Most females he was around didn't give that vibe or level of honesty, except for Ever and Cana. But those two were a significant part of his life. Lucy, she was an outsider. A Guild member, just like him. Someone he had limited interactions with. Both by choice and the fact her team was overprotective, with damn good reason.

Deciding that he was getting a bit uncomfortable now, in his own house, Bickslow stood up suddenly, stretching, since he didn't have the opportunity after waking up. He looked down at Lucy, who was staring wide-eyed at him, her face showing her emotions clear.

"Let's get you back to your house. I think you should clean up before... going back to the guild," he said.

The way she flinched, he knew she recalled some of last night. And the pain that flickered in her eyes was not that of loss, but guilt. Meaning she recalled what she had at least done to Erza in some small part. That was a can of worms she had to deal with. The red-headed titan was easily hurt by those she cared about. And frankly, he wanted no part of the result of drunk Lucy's actions pinned on him. He helped her. She got to see a side of her that was interesting. And felt the warmth of her genuine honesty. For him, at the moment, he was just grateful he had this time with her. Because he was sure, he'd not be getting it anytime soon.

TBC!