Cobra is fun to write. I've enjoyed writing him as confident and sassy, and you should definitely read on for more of it. I've also now just realised a significant chunk of this fic so far is centred around Cobra. That... was not intentional. He's just fun to write, and he was first one on the scene. We'll see the others very soon, though, don't you worry.
As soon as the doors closed behind them, Cobra whipped back around and stared at the building. Midnight tilted his head, silently asking for clarification, arching an eyebrow as his friend growled in frustration, running a hand through his already wild hair.
"They're going to have a discussion. The blueberry's going with them." Erik muttered, as if it explained everything. Midnight rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to begin speaking, but Erik was already moving. He disappeared around the side of the building, and Midnight sighed before following him. The open door into the guild hall was as good an invitation as any, and the reflector mage found himself in the kitchens, watching his friend face off with a very unfriendly looking demon barmaid, and a nervous Kinana.
"Why do you need to use our oven?" Mira demanded, blue eyes hard as she glared down the Poison dragon slayer. Erik hesitated a moment.
"I want to… make Lucy cupcakes. Apologise for scaring her." He finally ground out, and the instant change in the white-haired mage was astounding. Her eyes softened, a wide, angelic smile spread across her face, and she clasped her hands together across a collarbone. Neither mages trusted her smile for a second.
"Oh, why didn't you say so?" She sighed happily, and waved a hand over the kitchen. "Make sure you clean up after yourself!" She called over her shoulder as she made her way back out to the bar, Kinana shooting a sympathetic look at him before following the demon barmaid. Midnight stared at his best friend's back, wondering what the absolute fuck his best friend was thinking.
"Shut up, Macbeth. I can hear what's rolling around in your head." The maroon-haired man growled, finally turning to pierce him with a fierce glare. Macbeth rolled his eyes again.
"Then tell me what's going on." He yawned, settling against a counter.
"I'll tell you when they start." Erik began pulling equipment out of cupboards, and got to work, beginning narrating the conversation upstairs as it happened. The cupcakes were in the oven, and he was midway through the icing when his hands faltered, words failed him, and he looked up at the ceiling. Macbeth cracked open an eye to see what had happened.
"What the fuck?" Erik whispered, a horrified expression crossing his face. He turned to look at Macbeth, reassured he was awake and listening.
"If Bright Eyes chooses someone else, everything goes back to normal. If she chooses me, then rejects me, I'll go feral and die."
"You already are feral." The reflector mage quipped.
"Fuck off. Seriously, that's what the rusted bucket of nails just said." Erik turned back and began beating the sugar and milk with more vigour, glaring at the bowl as he listened to Jellal's concern for him. Macbeth shifted, raising his head and working his way through the possibilities.
"So you make your play and get rejected outright, and life goes back to normal. You can make your play, be successful, and keep her for the rest of your life, or successfully mate with her, and have her reject you later on." He mused, lightly tugging on a lock of hair.
"I think the first question is do you want to have her? All of her, who she is, our history with her, and all her attachments?" He asked, watching as the muscles in Erik's back tensed through his clothes.
"I've never wanted anyone, not like this. Her scent promises things I never thought I would want, and the thought of walking away physically hurts. The rust bucket's right, it's a fucking compulsion, and I can't walk away from it. I have to try. Fuck, she passed out." Erik turned to dart into the guild hall, but Macbeth was faster, blocking him from the door. Erik snarled at him to get out of the way, but the reflector mage held firm.
"What's your plan? You barge in there, get within a few feet of her, and Titania shoves a hammer up your ass for the privilege?" He demanded. "Finish the damn cupcakes, we'll drop them off at her apartment, and then we start planning." The timer dinged, and the two mages turned to look at the oven. The dragon slayer huffed, but turned to pull the golden brown treats out of the oven, dropping the tray onto the counter to begin cooling.
"Fuck you." Erik muttered, and Macbeth smirked at him.
"This is why I make the plans." He reminded Erik, began rolling up his sleeves, and started washing the discarded equipment.
"Look how well that ended up last time." The Poison dragon slayer muttered, grabbing a tea towel to dry. Macbeth shot him a sardonic look, but said nothing.
It hadn't taken long for Erik to finish the cupcakes, nor did it take much time to find Lucy's apartment. They had successfully avoided her landlady, and quickly picked the lock to her door. Macbeth glanced around the studio apartment, declared it 'too pink' and wandered back outside to wait in a nearby alley.
Erik had looked around, depositing the cupcakes on the small, clean dining table. He wandered over to the desk, rifling through the pages he found, slowly reading little snippets of the story she was clearly working on. He wasn't particularly literate and reading was difficult for him, but as he looked around the apartment, he realised that it was clearly important to her. He grimaced briefly. He'd be at a disadvantage, then, as the others would at least have that step up on him. Maybe she would teach him to read at a higher level? He perked up at the thought.
As his eye fell on a pen, he had a brief idea, and hoped it didn't turn out too badly. Grabbing a scrap piece of paper and picking up the pen, he slowly, carefully wrote a short note to go with the cupcakes. He paused a moment, deciding who he wanted to sign it off as. Did he still want to be Cobra, or did he want her to learn him as Erik? He squeezed his eye shut for a moment. Let's go with Erik. If she chooses me, I'll probably have to join the guild. Not such a bad thing, leaving Cobra behind if that happens. He thought, and a strange feeling that could have been hope bubbled in his chest. Clamping down on it, he wrote his name and stood, swiftly depositing the note with the cupcakes on the table.
He knew he should probably leave, but her scent was everywhere, and he didn't want to go just yet. His eye fell on her bed, and an idea popped into his head. He contemplated it for a few moments before mentally shrugging and giving in. If Lucy didn't want him rolling around on her bed with his face pressed into her pillow, huffing her scent like a degenerate, then she should have organised to have the barrier up earlier. He was feral, after all.
Mmm, cupcakes. We see a little more of Erik here, and I found him fun to write, and honestly, I was cracking up laughing writing that last paragraph. I love it. I love it a lot. Most of this wrote itself, and I'm really happy with it. Heh. Degenerate. But seriously, the mental image of him rolling around on Lucy's bed with her pillow pressed into his face is hilarious.