Sting's having a bad day, and Natsu's there to cheer him up.


Natsu can tell that something's wrong as soon as Sting texts him.

I don't think I can make it tonight, I'm not feeling good.

It's missing the plethora of emojis that usually follow, or the silly gif, or even a smiley face. The words are plain and unassuming and very clearly sad.

u ok? Natsu replies, one-handed as he rolls over toward the edge of the bed and feels around for a clean shirt.

Yeah just coming down with something. I'll see you guys next week.

Natsu finally finds something that's not dirty and tugs it on, then frowns at the words on his screen. Sting has never missed game night. He's always there with his bright smile and an extra-large coffee, and a Tupperware of homemade cookies (with special ones on the side for Natsu that have raisins instead of chocolate chips). He's loud and cheerful, and nearly glows with an energy that Natsu's loved since the first time he was around it.

Natsu's phone dings with another message. Can you let everyone else know? I don't feel up to texting everyone.

Which is ridiculous because they have a group chat, and Sting's usually the most talkative one in it, sending random memes and photos to brighten up everyone's days.

Instead, Natsu sends a quick message to Gray – sting & me cant make it, can we do next tues instead? – then grabs a hoodie from the floor and heads for the door.


Sting doesn't answer the door so Natsu lets himself in.

"Sting!" Natsu kicks off his shoes, crouching down to scratch Lector's head as the fat orange tabby meows at him and rubs around his legs. "Where's your human, huh, buddy?" Natsu murmurs. Lector mrowls at him, then trots down the hallway toward the living room.

The apartment is a mess. Sting's not the neatest person, but right now it looks like a tornado's torn through the place. Dirty dishes are piled on the counter, books are strewn across the kitchen table, and there, curled up in a miserable pile on the couch, is Sting.

"Hey, sunshine," Natsu says gently. Sting blinks up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"What're you…"

"I brought takeout." Natsu sets the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table, then settles down on the couch next to Sting. "And your favorite movie." He holds up a copy of 'The Princess Bride.'

"Why…" Sting looks like he's going to cry. Actually, he looks like he's already been crying. "What're you…"

"I'm sorry you're not feeling good," Natsu says gently. "I know this won't make it better, but I thought—"

He's interrupted by Sting, who is suddenly nearly in his lap with his arms wrapped around Natsu's shoulders. Natsu relaxes into the embrace, tipping his head against Sting's and running his fingers through the mess of blond curls.

"You're the best," Sting mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Natsu's neck. Natsu kisses Sting's temple, shifting on the couch until he's lying against the armrest and Sting is curled up in his arms.

"You deserve it," he murmurs, pulling Sting close.

By the time the chow mein is finished and Buttercup and Westley are sharing the kiss that left them all behind, Sting's smile is back. He rests contentedly against Natsu, head on his chest, fingers drawing patterns on the back of Natsu's hands.

"Thank you," he says softly as the credits start to roll. He shifts in Natsu's arms so that they're facing each other, legs tangled together, noses so close that Natsu can count his freckles.

"Always," Natsu murmurs, then leans in so that they can share their very own pure, very passionate kiss.