.

.

"Baby, we were born with

Fire & gold in our eyes, eyes

With fire & gold in our eyes, eyes

Got lightning in a bottle

Hands on the throttle

Even in the dust we shine

With fire & gold in our eyes

There is something different about you and I (about you and I)

And I feel like I have known you my whole life

There is beauty behind every tear you've cried

Sometimes it's just hard to realize"

-Bea Miller, "Fire N Gold"

(:)(A)(:)

Ignite

Chapter 12: Kindling

(:)(A)(:)

She took a hesitant step forward, the anger draining out of her faster than it even appeared. "Why didn't you...?"

He looked away from her, wincing and rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "I didn't want you to catch it..."

"Oh." Suddenly she felt the tiniest prickling of guilt for thinking the worst. Silence stretched between them, uninterrupted until she realized the lack of a certain snarky cat. "Where's Happy?" Shouldn't he be helping take care of him?

Natsu gave her the tiniest of shrugs. "I asked him to let you know I wasn't going to be there today... But I guess you missed him."

"Yeah," she mumbles, "I guess so." Then, remembering the soup in her hand, she shook her head. If Happy wasn't here then she certainly owed it to the dragon slayer to stay and help him recover – especially with how she had been ready to rip him apart over a misunderstanding only a minute ago. "Here, Mira made you some curry."

His eyes watched her carefully as she made her way towards him, his nose scrunching in irritation. "I can't even smell it," he admitted. "Can't smell anything. It's fucking annoying. How do you deal with this all the time?"

She rolled her eyes even though she couldn't help but feel a small amount of sympathy for him. Being sick sucked, but he really shouldn't complain since this was the first time he ever had to deal with it. She opened the container of curry, thoughts drifting. "It's ... kinda strange for you, isn't it? Getting sick?"

He looked away from her, an odd expression crossing his features. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled, burrowing his face further into the covers. "It sucks.

There was a flush to his cheeks that she wasn't used to seeing, but as she felt his forehead she was surprised to find his skin to be cool instead of hot. She frowned. Natsu's body temperature had always been unnaturally warmer than her own. Just to be sure, she checked with her other palm only to be met with the same results. "Natsu, you're cold."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "I know. That's why I have all the blankets."

She shook her head, realizing that he misunderstood. "No, I mean you feel cold." She pressed both of her palms to his cheeks, her eyes meeting his in concern when he released a stuttering sigh. "See? I'm never warmer than you..."

Slowly, comprehension seemed to dawn on him, but instead of seeming worried (like he should be) he merely shrugged awkwardly, averting her gaze. "Yeah, I guess that's kinda weird..."

Why was he acting so strange about it? Unless... "Natsu," she said firmly, palms still pressed against his cheeks. "Do you know what caused this?" So help her, if he knew and he wasn't saying anything...

His response was immediate, and seemed legitimately confused. "Uh, germs?" When her expression remained neutral he gave her a sheepish smile. "I think?"

Lucy withheld a sigh, her hands dropping to her lap even as her eyes traced his face in hopes for a sign of what could have caused the dragon slayers strange symptoms. He stared back at her, fidgeting under her scrutiny.

"You really shouldn't stay here," he muttered, burying his face into the comforter until only his eyes and hair were visible and the cotton muffled his voice. "You might catch it."

It was like flipping a switch, and suddenly Lucy felt insecurity stiffening her spine – as if bracing herself for disappointment. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked.

His response was immediate, and with the amount of force he used to shake his head she couldn't help but feel that his words were honest. "No! You know I –" he paused, as if rethinking his choice of words. He swallowed thickly, eyes falling briefly to the couch cushions between them before seeming to steel himself to meet her gaze. "I don't want you to leave," he murmured. "I never want you to leave. But I don't want you to get sick either... You hate being sick."

The word 'never' rang in her ears, the sweetest of bells, but she shook herself from its charming grasp. There was an uncomfortable look on Natsu's face, one that spoke of lingering guilt, and (as terrible as it was) she felt some relief knowing that he still felt badly for his actions the weeks prior. Still, there was something in his gaze that felt off to her... something wrong.

She frowned, leaning forward and taking his face in her hands in order to look more closely. Beneath her palms she felt him take a sharp, startled intake of breath and his eyes widened considerably as he stared back at her. It was just as he managed to croak out her name ("Luce?") that she put her finger on what was so different. "Your eyes," she whispered, heart racing in her chest. "They aren't – there's no fire."

Natsu blinked at her, before recoiling slightly from her touch as if burned. Immediately she recognized that, to him, that probably sounded a lot more insulting than it was. She gripped his shoulders, hurrying to explain. "No – I mean, your magic is fire! That's why you're usually warmer!" The furrow in his brow assured her that he was struggling to understand her train of thought. "Natsu, when was the last time you ate?"

His annoyance faded into concern. He frowned openly, giving her a careful look. "Um, last night? Remember? You made fish..."

She shook her head. "No, not food. Fire. When was the last time you ate flames?"

Realization slowly brightened his eyes, and as his brow furrowed in thought Lucy realized with dawning horror that he didn't remember. "Did you have any since..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words, but Natsu seemed to sense that she was referring to the incident with the dream mage anyway.

He hesitated, sheepish, before shaking his head. "No... At least, I don't think so... Maybe?"

The urge to throttle him was very real, but Lucy managed to withhold the impulse if only because he had already made himself miserable. Still, it took every once of patience she had to keep her voice lowered. Judging by the way he shrunk away from her, she wasn't entirely successful. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Natsu remained silent for a moment and she felt her frustration rise. "Well?!"

"I... wasn't, I guess."

There was something in the way he said it, an undertone, that dampened her irritation. She knew that he had been upset – even when dealing with her own feelings of betrayal she recognized that her friend was troubled. But to forget to eat?

Worry gripped her. More than ever, she wanted to know what it was that he dreamed about when the mage cast that spell, but she refused to give into the urge to push for an answer. He said he would tell her in his own time, and he deserved to at least be given the opportunity to fulfill that promise before she started prodding him for answers. Still... She felt so useless. How was she suppose to help him if she didn't know what the problem was?

She sighed, shaking her head as she reached for the container of curry she had set aside. The best she could do now was help him get better. "Well, at least we know it's not contagious," she muttered. She held it out to him, fishing the spoon that Mira had packed from the bag. "Here." By now it was only luke warm, but she figured it would have to do while she figured out how to start a fire in that ancient cast iron stove of his.

He untangled a hand from within the cocoon of blankets he had made for himself and took the container from her cautiously. She could see a small amount of apprehension in his eyes – as if he was waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. No doubt he was expecting her impatience to show; and on another day it very well might have, but she was just too tired to find the energy and motivation to scold him.

Lifting herself from the comfortable spot she had made on the couch, she kneeled in front of the stove in the corner of the small room. A quick inspection told her that it was probably way overdue for a cleaning – the stupid thing was full of ash and soot – and she wrinkled her nose. She really didn't have the kind of patience to clean the damn thing, so hopefully it wouldn't be a fire hazard.

Besides, if it was then Natsu would just have to eat a little faster.

Behind her Natsu made a strange sound in the back of his throat, and when she glanced over to him he was scowling down at the soup. Sensing her gaze he hastily gave an explanation. "It tastes different."

She rolled her eyes. "That's because your nose is plugged."

He blinked, staring down at his food curiously. "Oh."

She stuffed a few logs of firewood into the stove, eyes searching for something to light it. "Where are your matches?"

"Hm?" Natsu looked up, nose crinkling. "Why would I have matches?"

She made an exaggerated gesture towards the stove. "To light a fire? You can't eat your own flames, right?"

His expression alone made it clear that he is repulsed by the idea. "Of course not."

Her eyes narrowed, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't she rolls her eyes and reminds herself that he is sick and to be patient. "Then how do you light this stupid thing?"

"Uh, the flint?" He answered, seeming confused as to why she even had to ask. "It's sitting there right on top of the stove."

A quick look proved that there was indeed a piece of flint and metal where he said it was. Unfortunately, the discovery only served to deflate her rapidly dwindling hope instead of lifting it. She held it in her palm cautiously, the metal feeling cool against her skin. "I don't know how to use this," she grumbled, before sighing. "I'll just go back to the guild and get some matches."

As she was about to stand, she felt his bare arm brush against hers as he kneeled next to her. A quick glance showed that he had shed the comforter and was now only wearing a pair of sweat pants. She hastily averted her eyes back to his face, feeling her face warm when she realized his eyes had been on her the whole time. Though if he noticed her split second of weakness he didn't show it. Instead his hand reached for hers – the one still holding the flint – and gently took it from her palm.

"I'll teach you," he said, a grin (smaller than his usual ones but still just as honest) pulling at his lips. "It'll be fun."

A moment, maybe two, and she found herself smiling softly back. Only Natsu would find building a fire the old fashioned way "fun". Still, worry for him nagged at her. With his arm still pressed up against hers she could feel his suppressed shivers, and so close she could see that his eyes still held an exhausted glaze. "Ok," she murmured, "But let's keep you under wraps while we do it."

He shook his head, rearranging the firewood she had carelessly stuffed in there. "Nah, I need my arms free." He gave her a tired, yet warm, smile. "Besides, if it really is my magic then the faster we get it going the better, right?"

Hesitantly, because she really wasn't all that convinced, she nodded. "Alright. But after we get it going you need to sit down and relax. Got it?"

His mouth quirked into a lopsided grin, his hands and eyes still focused on the fire. "Ok, Nurse Lucy."

She flushed, wondering if she was imagining the lewd suggestion in that particular statement or if he did it on purpose. It was always hard to tell with him. Since he was sick – and since there weren't any follow up jokes about nursing outfits – she let it slide and watched carefully as he explained how to start a fire.

It was sorta funny, actually. She would have never thought that he would have the patience for something like this... Especially when fire was something that came so easily to him. In a matter of minutes he had an ember started and she was helping to fan it into a full flame. To her surprise, he waited until it was going strong before taking a taste, and only a small amount at a time to keep the fire going. It was only when he spotted her discreetly wiping the sweat from her brow that he reduced the flames with one big slurp and left only a meager flame in his wake.

She gave him a questioning look – she had seen him eat much more when he wasn't running on empty. He caught her stare and shrugged. "Tired," he explained, though to Lucy's ears it sounded more like an excuse. "I'll have more later."

She suspected that he was just having mercy on her. The small cottage had become almost unbearably hot, but she let it slide. He did look tired, and even if it was the magic deprivation that let him get sick it didn't necessarily mean that he'd get better right after a meal. It was possible that he'd have to ride it out just like the rest of them.

She helped him back to the couch, carefully tucking the blankets around his shoulders when her eyes landed on his wrist, tracing the faded red yarn that encircled his tan skin. "You still have that?"

He grunted, "You bought it for me."

The way he said it was like that explained everything. Her heart warmed, and she hid the pleased flush in her cheeks behind a smile. She was about to sit on the mangled chair across from him, seeing as he took up the entirety of the couch when laying down, when his hand lightly grasped her wrist to keep her from leaving.

His face was tinged red, though from the way he was avoiding her eyes she guessed it wasn't from the sickness. "Uh, do you think – I mean. That thing you do on the train? Would it be ok if, you know, you did that?"

It only took he a moment to figure out what he was talking about, but when she did she smiled and shook her head. "Lift your head," she instructed. He did so immediately, and she slipped in underneath him so he could rest his head in her lap as she ran her hands gently through his hair – her nails dragging lightly against his scalp. He sighed and she let a little smile curl the corners of her mouth. "Feel good?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "It's... relaxing."

"My mom used to always do this when I was sick," she confessed, her eyes softening as she recalled the hazy, but fond, memories of her mother. "There was this one year where we had to cancel my birthday party because I caught a cold. I was so upset, but Mom just sat with me and played with my hair..."

A moment of silence stretched between them, though it was more thoughtful than awkward. She could see him hesitantly chewing on words, as if tasting them before committing them to speech. It was odd seeing him so be so careful around her, especially since she had never seen evidence of him having any type of verbal filter before. However, when he finally let himself speak she understood (and appreciated) his effort to be delicate.

"Happy said you dreamed about her. You know, when the spell hit."

Her fingers paused momentarily in his hair, unsure if she was really willing to discuss it. He had given her an out, a way to escape the conversation by stating facts instead of questions. It would be easy to divert to another topic altogether.

But... She wasn't sure she wanted to.

It was only fair, wasn't it? She wanted to know what he dreamed about when that spell hit – what he was so terrified of wanting more than anything. How could she ask him to tell her if she wasn't even willing to share hers?

"Yeah," she admitted softly, "I did." Maybe if he knew what she went through, maybe if he understood that she had suffered too, it would make him feel better about his own desires. "I dreamt that she was never really gone and that she got all of those letters I'd written. Her and Dad were still happy, and when they came to visit me they got to meet you –" she paused, flushing lightly. "And, you know, everyone else," she added hastily, feeling only a prick of regret for lying.

In her dream she hadn't introduced anyone else to her mother – not even Happy – and somehow it felt too personal a detail to relinquish. Especially when she remembered how the Natsu in her dream had thrown his arm around her waist with such familiarity, as if touching her so intimately was normal, and how the hug her mother gave him was so warm – like she already considered him family. There were implications everywhere, little details that pointed to a revelation she really wasn't quite ready to confront or evaluate. "It was great," she murmured, "You know, until I woke up."

She laughed, a weak sound that is heavy with longing. "We even went to this chocolate shop in my home town together. I swear they made the best chocolate bars ever. They had this dark chocolate one that had almonds and sea salt, and I know it sounds totally weird but I loved it. When I was a girl, every birthday for as long as I can remember, we used to go to that chocolate shop and she'd let me pick out some to try... After she died Mrs. Spetto and the others would always wrap up a bar for me." She sighed, eyes traveling thoughtfully to the window. "I haven't been there in years... Not since I ran away. I wonder if they are still there..."

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "So, yeah. That's what I dreamt about."

His eyes pierced through her, no longer glazed by sickness, and she felt like she had possibly exposed herself more than she meant to. Finally he spoke, his words soft and with more care than she was used to. "I wish it was true."

Her heart lurched in her chest and she struggled to push back the burning sensation in her eyes. "Yeah," she rasped, coughing lightly to clear her throat. "Me too." She thought about the way her dream mother's eyes gleamed when she hugged him, how she had babbled on about how excited she was to finally meet the man in all of Lucy's letters. "She would have loved you," she whispered, cracking a watery smile. "She really would have."

The smile he gave her was no less somber, though she could see a hint of shyness in his gaze. "You think?"

She laughed, a wet sound that was dampened by more tears than joy. She removed her hands from his hair to wipe the bottoms of her eyes before the tears could have the chance to fall. "I know."

A moment of silence passed between them and, while it didn't feel awkward, Lucy couldn't help but feel the weight of it. There was a tenseness in his shoulders despite her ministrations that spoke of the gravity of his thoughts. Concern nagged her, but she refrained from prying. He had promised her, and she knew that he didn't take those types of things lightly. She would be patient and have faith that if it was important he would tell her.

He only made her wait another minute or so before mumbling against her thigh. "You're a lot like your mom, huh?"

Confused by his train of thought, she hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, I mean, from what I've been told." Everyone told her she took after her mother, in not only looks but in spirit. Personally, from the few precious memories she had of her mother, she saw her mother as so much more than she ever could be.

Natsu nodded, thoughtful as he gazed into the dying fire. "Then I think I would have loved her too."

It was only later, when he was snoring loudly on her lap, that Lucy realized there were two very different ways of interpreting his words.

AN: Phew, sorry for the long wait folks! This whole pregnancy thing is harder than it looks – especially when your mother jynxes you by saying "Oh, you'll probably be like me and have an easy pregnancy". Writing has been a lot harder recently, but I think I'm starting to get back into the groove (fingers crossed). You'll be seeing 3-4 one shots next week in celebration of Angst Week on Tumblr (I'm just going to say I'm sorry ahead of time … like, really, really sorry). Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a kind word, and to the lovely madartiste for catching all my silly mistakes (I assure you there were plenty)!

Till next time!