Lucy let out a barely audible sigh as she shifted slightly, letting her head rest on Bickslow's shoulder as she sat in his lap at his desk. Her legs were hanging over one of the armrests and her back was leaning against his arm as it came around her to reach the desk.

Neither really questioned how weird it was – Bickslow didn't mind having Lucy sit in his lap, even if it was a bit annoying when she shifted occasionally. But for the most part, it was okay, and Lucy just needed to be close to him because the closer she was, the more she felt like everything would be fine and that the world hadn't just completely turned upside down again.

She turned her head on his shoulder slightly, only enough to look down at the laptop sitting on the desk as he typed up something, his fingers brushing over each key quickly before he stopped to turn a page in the stack of papers just next to the laptop. He did so effortlessly, and it reminded Lucy of the way his fingers slid over each key when playing piano, and even though she'd only seen it once, it had been strangely therapeutic the way he did so.

"What is it you do here exactly?" Lucy asked quietly, narrowing her eyes slightly to try and focus on the all too small words on the screen that was just a bit too far away for her to make out clearly.

"Honestly, I'm not too sure," Bickslow mumbled as the corner of his mouth curled up into a small smirk as he reached out to the turn another page. "I just do what I get told to at meetings."

"And that is…?"

"Usually it involves making sure Laxus knows what he can and can't do in terms of running the company. Natsu and Gray do the same for Erza, apparently."

"So you're kinda like Laxus' second in command?"

Bickslow chuckled as he turned another page, skimming over the words before turning back to face the screen before him. "Yeah, pretty much." He glanced down to his watch once again, he suddenly slammed the laptop shut and closed the binder. "Shit, I have another meeting."

Lucy sighed again as she climbed off of him, moving to stand by the edge of the desk as he shot up and moved around the other side to grab his jacket from the back of the armchair.

"Is it going to take long?" Lucy asked as she moved to sit back down in his chair, bringing her leg up to rest her chin against her knee once again.

"I'll be out by five thirty at the latest," he said, shrugging his jacket on and fixing the collar. "Oh, almost forgot." When Lucy raised an eyebrow, he walked back around the desk, his long strides making it possible in just a few steps. "This is what I wanted to show you," he said with a grin as he pulled one of the drawers on his desk open and lifted out a book and handed it to her.

She stared at the book in her hand in disbelief, her eyes narrowing slightly and her brow furrowing in her confusion. The light blue cover with the white embossed text and the silhouette of the fairy figure that was a part of their guild's welcome sign on their front gates.

Fantasia, by Lucy Heartfilia-Theroux.

"I'm an actual, published, author?" she whispered, looking up to see Bickslow with a wide grin as he walked backwards towards his office door.

"Apparently," he said, his hand on the door handle as it pulled it open. "I thought it might help you take your mind off things or something." Because god knows that she really needed that.

"Yeah, maybe…"

"Anyway, I've gotta go. I'll try and get out as soon as I can so then we can go home, alright?"

So when Lucy nodded, shifting so she had her legs bent under her on the chair as she leant her elbow on the armrest with the book already open in her lap, Bickslow finally left his office and closed the door behind him.

His short walk across the room and towards the elevators was uncomfortable, yet again. Every time he left his office to head to another meeting ever since Veronica's outburst, he had almost every single person's eyes on him. Hell, it had already spread around half the building because he'd already had a few emails from people that apparently worked on other floors.

The few people that actually had the courage to ask him straight out if he'd had an affair, he had to fight the urge to just shout 'no,' because really, it was true, and saying no would be lying. It wasn't him that had had an affair, but to everyone else who actually belonged in that world, it was him.

But of course, if he just scowled at them, people usually got the message and walked away, and sure, they usually went to gossip about it, taking his silence as a confirmation of his so-called infidelity, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Bickslow honestly didn't give a damn about what the people he worked with thought of him either, because it was really was none of their business what he did in his private life – or his counterpart's private life, as it turns out.

He only cared about what Lucy thought of him.

Bickslow leant against the doorframe with his arms folded, watching where Lucy laid on the bed, curled up under the heavy blankets as she silently read the book, the only sound in the room being the turning of pages.

Bickslow was worried about her. She'd barely moved since they'd gotten home, only having a shower before she retreated to the bed. She'd immersed herself in the book, and honestly, Bickslow couldn't blame her. After all, it was about them, starting from the unfortunate circumstances under which they'd first met. He'd figured that much out from what he'd read of it, but… He'd stopped once his 'character' got called an 'idiotic womanising ass.' Sure, it was true, but there was a part of him that didn't want to know just what else was said about him in the story.

But the book was irrelevant. He was just worried about Lucy.

"You need to eat something," he said.

Lucy sighed as she turned the page again. "Not hungry."

"You haven't eaten anything since this morning," he argued.

"So?"

"So I'm worried about you."

"I know you are," she sighed, turning her head on her pillow to look towards the door. "But I just don't feel like eating all that much right now."

Lucy really did know Bickslow was worrying about her. He'd been there for her all afternoon and she couldn't be more thankful for it, especially when she knew that he too was hurting but he was putting aside everything for her. As much as Lucy wanted to help Bickslow with what he was going through with everything, she really had no idea where to begin when it came to helping him. Hell, she didn't even know if he wanted her to help him, but Lucy liked to think he did.

But Bickslow really wasn't as bad as Lucy thought he was. Sure, he'd let a few things slip while they'd still been in his office about how he was feeling guilty and pretty damn terrible over everything his other self had done, especially because the Lucy he knew was the one who got hurt by it all, but Bickslow was surprisingly okay with it. Well, maybe 'okay' wasn't the best way to describe how he was feeling, but Bickslow knew that there was really nothing he could do about what he was feeling. He wasn't the one who was guilty of anything, but he was the one who got stuck with the guilt, just like Lucy got stuck with the pain and the broken heart. It wasn't fair, but they had no choice in it.

The only reason he wasn't completely losing his mind and going on a rampage was because Lucy knew he wouldn't have done something like that. The fact that Lucy was even able to be around him at all was making what he felt just a little bit more bearable. She needed him, he knew that, and because of that, he was able to put aside what he felt, because if he made sure Lucy was fine first, then he knew that his own problems would get better.

So with a sigh, Bickslow turned and pushed himself off from where he leant against the doorframe, leaving Lucy to return to her book once again; partly because he knew the conversation was over, and partly because he needed to give Ingrid a bath and get her ready for bed. From what Gajeel and Levy had said about her while they'd looked after her for the afternoon, Bickslow thought it was a miracle she wasn't screaming her head off – apparently she'd been more than a little fussy with Gajeel and Levy, and Bickslow had originally just put it down to them not knowing what Ingrid does and doesn't like, but he realised it wasn't that at all. He didn't know what kind of schedule they had in the five months of her life they'd missed, so to speak, but Bickslow felt it was that Ingrid missed them being around her all day, and more importantly, she was missing Lucy.

Since they'd been home that evening, Bickslow hadn't been able to leave her side – whether she be in her crib or high-chair, just because he needed to leave her where he knew she'd be safe while he went to check on Lucy for a minute or so – without her starting to cry, should he leave her for more than a few minutes at a time. Sure, Bickslow had been able to calm her down once he'd picked her up or at least walked back into the room, but he knew that he wasn't enough. Ingrid wanted Lucy, just because there was that bond that Bickslow knew didn't even compare to the one that he shared with Ingrid. It was because Lucy was her mother, but Lucy really had immersed herself into the world of the book, and it meant that she hadn't seen Ingrid since mid-morning.

And there was a reason Lucy had been so engrossed with the book, and it wasn't just because she'd been the one to write it; it was because it was about the world they'd come from.

It was their life. It was her life.

She'd loved reading her entire life, just because she'd grown up alone. She hadn't had friends her own age, so she'd really just had her family (and that was stretching it), the people who worked in her house, and her spirits. When she read, she could submerge herself in that world and pretend it was her life, even if it was just temporary. She could pretend that she was going on all of these epic adventures, finding true love, or generally just being the hero of the story, because when she was young, she really did wish she could live in the books she read.

And it was part of the reason she'd always wanted to become an author; she wanted to create her own world with her own characters, and maybe, just maybe, a child who had a similar life would find solace in her stories and pretend that it was their own life to escape from their own reality.

But this book – the one she hadn't been able to put down… It was something else. It was about her life. It was the life she'd been plucked from and even if it was just temporary, she could pretend she was back there in her own world in the right time and she had her spirits with her. No Bickslow, no Ingrid, no baby.

Well, that's what she'd thought when she'd first started reading it, but that had soon changed. It wasn't just her life, because it was Bickslow's life too. It was how they'd met, way back when Laxus and the Raijinshuu had planned on taking the guild. Sure, the names of the characters and a few of the details were different, but she'd lived it; they were her own memories, if anything, and she could recognise it all.

But the more she read, the more she got pulled in. She wanted to know how it ended, because she knew that it wasn't going to end like things actually did. She was curious, because from what she'd read in the couple of hours she'd had the book, she realised that it wasn't just about two people who met under some pretty terrible circumstances and how they went about their separate lives (which was what had actually happened), but it was how they came together after all of it.

It was a love story. It was her love story, and hell, Lucy really wanted to know if her character ended up getting the guy in the end, and if the guy got the girl. It certainly aided her curiosity that the guy just happened to be Bickslow.

When Bickslow came into the room again not too long after, holding Ingrid in one arm, she turned her head on the pillow, watching as he actually moved into the room and over to the bed instead of standing in the doorframe like he had been every other time.

"Alright, come on." He pulled the covers back swiftly. "Up."

"Bickslow, please—"

When Lucy made a grab for the blankets once again, he reached over and pushed them out of her reach again, never losing his hold in Ingrid as he did so. "No, come on. Get up."

"But I don't want to," she groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position as she grabbed the bookmark and marked her spot. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to help you, and I know that that book isn't going to make things any better—"

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "You've read it?" Suddenly, she was worried about what Bickslow would have thought if he knew what kind of story it was. It's just a book, there's nothing to worry about.

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a small smirk as his other arm went around Ingrid, lifting her up slightly on his side. "I read the first chapter or so. Kinda lost interest in it when my character got called an idio—"

"…'Idiotic womanising ass,' " Lucy mumbled, "Yeah, I remember that part…" And even though she'd kind of been the one to write the words, she hadn't thought that about Bickslow. Not once. Well, not to that extreme, at least.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat as he moved Ingrid to the one arm again before holding his other hand out towards Lucy. "Come on, please. Don't make me drag you."

So after a moment's thought, Lucy hesitantly took his hand and let her pull her up from the bed as she adjusted her singlet accordingly since it had ridden up slightly while in bed. She would have worn something a lot looser, had she actually done the washing that she'd been putting off during the week. Lucy had become painfully aware of the fact that her stomach was most definitely not the same as it had been a month earlier, and sure, she'd kind of noticed it earlier, but she assumed she was just putting on weight because she wasn't exactly eating the best foods (they tended to order take-out a lot) or exercising as much as she'd liked to. But no, Lucy was painfully aware that that was not the case, and she was feeling incredibly self-conscious about it.

Even though there was still a tiny part of her that was in denial about being pregnant, she realised that she most definitely was showing, and through all of her confusion and stress and anxiety and everything, she was acutely aware of the fact that she couldn't really be that far along, but she already had a noticeable, yet tiny, little bump (compared to her usually somewhat toned stomach in that world and body). She'd made a mental note to do some research into that, but that was not a task for that night.

"Okay, sit," Bickslow said as he led her over to the lounge. When she sat down with a huff, still confused about what it was she was even supposed to be doing out there, he handed her Ingrid. "Hold."

He'd seen the hesitation cross her features for the briefest of moments and it really worried him. In the time they'd been there, Lucy had never once acted like that. Bickslow had an inkling as to why, and sure, it made sense, but it hurt him to see it anyway.

But it wasn't really just about what Lucy wanted and felt, because Ingrid needed her mother, and that was Lucy. Their child, or children, as it seems, were the priority. They were parents and that meant they were supposed to do whatever it took to make sure they were happy, and for Ingrid, that just meant being close to Lucy.

So as Bickslow disappeared down the hall, presumably to get changed since his shirt sleeves that had been rolled up and the front of his shirt were soaking wet (most likely from giving Ingrid a bath, and boy, did she like to splash occasionally), Lucy finally pulled Ingrid in against her chest, and as soon as she did, she felt tears prick her eyes. She'd been more than happy to palm Ingrid off to others for the day just so she could ignore her own problems and she knew it was wrong of her to do that. In the month they'd been there, it was the longest Lucy had gone without being around Ingrid, and as soon as she felt the tiny human trying to grasp at her shirt and rest her head on her shoulder, she realised she'd missed her; she'd missed her daughter.

She'd grown so attached to Ingrid that just a day without her in her arms instantly made her just a little bit happier right then, and a warmth spread throughout her. Through all of the pain, confusion, and heartbreak, Lucy was happy to just hold her daughter close to her, because god, had she missed that all afternoon without even realising it.

When Bickslow came back into the room, flopping down in the corner of the lounge and putting his feet up on the cushions like he usually did, he couldn't help but smile softly at Lucy and Ingrid, and that was just because Lucy was smiling down at Ingrid as she stroked over her light blonde hair. Bickslow had figured it would be good for Ingrid, but he'd never expected it to be good for Lucy.

But hey, he wasn't going to complain. If they needed to be around each other, then so be it.

When Bickslow began to scroll through the movie and T.V series choices on the T.V, Lucy looked towards Bickslow. "So I take it this was why you wanted me to get up?"

"Yup," he said, scrolling through the list of movies that actually sounded half decent. "Thought it might help take your mind off things. So, what do you want to watch?"

Lucy stared at the screen for a moment, watching the covers for each movie change as he read over them. It wasn't like sitting down and watching a movie was out of the ordinary for them, because they actually did it quite often towards the end of the week. Though, they usually did end up watching what Lucy wanted and that was usually some sappy romance that had Bickslow cringing.

But even if it was just a simple thing – deciding whether to watch a movie or not – she still didn't know if she was actually up for it, which was silly.

So instead, she got up slowly, keeping Ingrid against her chest, and walked around the lounge to the hall. "Ingrid needs to go to bed," she said softly. Lucy knew Bickslow was watching her as she disappeared out of the room, and she knew it was because she'd avoided the unasked question of whether she was staying out there or going back to the bed. She just really didn't know, even though it was so ridiculously simple and wasn't something people tyically needed to think about.

But once she'd gotten Ingrid in her crib after having gone through their nightly ritual of reading for a bit and a goodnight kiss, Lucy stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the blanket and sheet that had been tossed to one side and the book that sat on the pillow. It was really whether she wanted to ignore her problems and life for the rest of the night, pretend she was back in her own world and make herself feel even worse, or spend time with an actual human that actually exists.

And once she'd thought about it that way, it really was the simplest decision. Even it was only temporary, submersing herself within the book was not going to be helping her at all, since it really was just going to make her miss that world and life even more, even if it was straying from the truth she knew and the way it had actually happened. Now, it wasn't like Bickslow was trying to force her to face any of their newfound problems head-on. He was just trying to help her and he was giving her something to do that would help her take her mind off everything without completely ignoring it.

After a while, Bickslow was convinced Lucy wasn't coming back out, and he was a little disappointed that she wasn't because he knew what she was doing with the book, and he didn't want her to do that. But on the other hand, he thought it was maybe his fault; maybe she just really didn't want to be around him then. Maybe she just really would prefer to be alone for the rest of the night.

But then she came back out, dragging the blanket from their bed with her and Bickslow really was a little shocked, but he smiled. "I didn't think you were coming back," he said as she sat down on the lounge next to him, tucking her feet under her as she threw the blanket over the top of both of them.

"Honestly, neither did I," she said as she pulled the blanket up to her chin with a small smile. "What are we watching?"

"Whatever you want to watch."

"But you hate whatever I choose."

"Okay, I don't hate them," Though he really did hate them, because they were chick flicks, or something like that, but he could put up with them. "I just don't particularly enjoy watching them… But, I can compromise."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "A compromise? Should prove to be interesting…"

"If you really want to watch one of your weird romance movies, at least choose a romantic comedy," Bickslow said as he handed her the remote, letting Lucy search through the movies. Besides, a comedy might actually cheer her up. Maybe.

So as Lucy made to scroll through the movies slowly, reading each summary carefully, Bickslow got up from the lounge and walked over to the freezer to pull out the tub of ice-cream and a spoon from a drawer.

"What about this one?" Lucy asked as Bickslow climbed over the backrest again, sitting back down and pulling the blanket up over his legs again. "A baby's parents die in a crash and the new legal guardians basically hate each other."

Shrugging, Bickslow pulled the lid off the tub and threw it to the coffee table. "Basically the story of our life, so sure," he said. And really, it basically was their life. You know, without the actual parents dying, and without the romance, because their life was void of all romance. Almost disappointingly void, if Bickslow thought about it too much. "Now, are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"

"I just don't feel like anything," she said, eyeing the ice-cream from the corner of her eye as he shoved the spoon in his mouth, getting rid of the smirk temporarily. Damn it, it's strawberry too. "But I don't think ice-cream is the best thing to be having for dinner."

"I've had worse."

But it was only twenty minutes into the movie that Lucy caved, lifting her head from where it rested on Bickslow's shoulder and letting the blanket pool around her waist, and she reached for the ice cream. "Alright, give me that," she mumbled, and in Bickslow's surprise, it was quite easy to take the container from his hands.

"Uh… Do you want me to get you another sp—"

"Bicks, I don't care if this has been in your mouth," she interrupted before getting a small spoonful of the ice-cream as Bickslow raised an eyebrow. "You basically slobbered on my face for whatever reason on the first day here. And, you kind of knocked me up twice, so I'm a little beyond caring about a spoon right now."

And there was a moment of silence that followed where Bickslow could only stare at Lucy, trying to figure out just what in the hell was going on. Slowly, his mouth curled up into a wide grin as Lucy's face darkened with her blush, slowly lowering the spoon to the container. "Did you really just say that?" he asked.

"Yeah…" And then, when she started laughing at herself, quietly at first, Bickslow couldn't hold back his own laughter any longer and was soon laughing along with her – and at her. Lucy honestly didn't know why she found it so funny – enough to have her wiping under her eyes from laughing so much, anyway – but she did. She hadn't even really thought about what she was saying until after the words had left her mouth, but once she had and she'd let the words sink in, she realised that it was the first time she'd really acknowledged the fact she was pregnant. Verbally, at least. And sure, it hadn't even been a day, but that tiny part of her that was still in denial had grown smaller.

But hell, her emotions were all over the place that day alone and in that moment, she just really didn't care anymore.

Lucy's eyes fluttered open slowly, wincing at the harsh light streaming into the room from the completely open curtains in the living room. The T.V was still on with the movie selection screen, and the remote and empty ice-cream tub sat on the coffee table.

The more she woke up and got her bearings, the more she became of aware of just where she was sleeping, and that just happened to be on the lounge with Bickslow right behind her, and Lucy had vaguely become aware of something pressing against her ass – something hard – and her face promptly turned bright red. Lucy was a little ashamed to admit that she'd woken up in similar circumstances with Natsu before (though, he was always equally as ashamed once he realised), and they'd all ended with the pink-haired idiot getting thrown out of her apartment or Lucy running to the bathroom to hide and calm herself down. So really, that was all that kept her from freaking out in that moment, because she was kinda used to it.

She tried to pry herself away from Bickslow, except when she tried to lift the arm that had come to be draped over her loosely, she only got pulled back in tighter. "Too early," he slurred, still, for the most part, asleep.

"No, it's not," she said, and when she tried to lift his arm again to get up, Bickslow promptly pulled the blanket up higher over both of their heads, effectively blocking out the sun. "Bicks, stop it," she giggled.

And in his sleep-ridden state, a small smile played on his lips. Wouldn't mind waking up to that sound again, he thought.

"Ingrid will be up soon…" Lucy said quietly, turning her head over her shoulder slightly when she pushed the blanket back once again. "And… You kind of have a... small—okay well, small isn't—"

But before Lucy could even finish her sentence of pointing out the obvious problem to Bickslow who either didn't care or didn't realise (in Lucy's opinion, anyway), Bickslow was suddenly awake enough to realise that there was another part of his anatomy that was also awake and as soon as he'd lifted his arm and sat up on the lounge, pulling the pillow with him before shoving it down over his lap, Lucy finally pushed herself to a standing position before she completely fell from the lounge.

No, no, no. This isn't happening right now. Oh god. No. "I am so… So… Sorry…" he mumbled, one hand running through his dishevelled hair while he kept the pillow firmly against his crotch with his other hand.

And just at the sight of Bickslow with a face redder than her own and incredibly embarrassed, Lucy couldn't help but laugh. She knew it wasn't something she should be laughing about – hell, she should be freaking out – but she was.

"Why the hell are you laughing?" Bickslow asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder as Lucy walked over to the kitchen to clean out the ice-cream tub in the sink. Because really, her laughing was not something he expected to happen – at all.

"Because your face was priceless. I don't think I've ever seen you so embarrassed," she choked out, and when Bickslow narrowed his eyes at her, she felt the heat return to her own cheeks again. "Jeez, just calm down already. I don't even care. You have no idea—" But she couldn't even finish her sentence before a wave of nausea washed over her and as her hand went to her mouth, she found herself wondering if it was worth running all the way down the hall and to their bathroom, or to just go straight to the laundry and the sink. But it was a short argument with herself, because the laundry sink was so much closer.

So as Lucy ran into the laundry and slammed the door, it gave Bickslow a chance to get up and make his way towards the actual bathroom where a cold shower awaited him. He was so far past embarrassed… He was beginning to think that he was actually mortified at what had happened. As soon as he was beginning to get closer to Lucy (under some pretty terrible circumstances, he had to admit), he had to go and fuck it up.

But he didn't really want to think about it much, because if he thought about it, he was going to get even more confused about the fact that Lucy hadn't kicked him out the window or screamed at him, or ran down the hall screaming, or something. She should have been freaking out, like a sane person would. Because you know, they weren't together. That's usually not something someone likes waking up to.

Hell, he was still a little confused as to how they'd started their day with an argument and ended it falling asleep together on the lounge. But he was just going to try and put it all to the back of his mind and try and get through his day without turning bright red whenever he even looked at her now.

Bickslow only suspected it would be a long day.