Author's Note

I regret the delay in posting this chapter; there was a RL matter that seriously occupied my time over the past several days. I hope you enjoy today's offering, though! :)

This story takes place between the Battle of Fairy Tail and the Oracion Seis arcs, if the timeline permits. Otherwise it could be after team Natsu returns immediately after the Oracion Seis arc.

This chapter takes place about three months after the last chapter.

It is intended to cover the prompts for both Day 3 and Day 4 of MiraFreed Week 2017: (3) Modelling; and (4) Flowers.

Chapter 2—First Steps: In the Limelight

[I] - Morning Tea

Freed walked unhurriedly to the Fairy Tail guildhall, impeccably dressed as usual in his trademark knee-length coat and white cravat. The coat was dark blue today, because he knew that Mirajane liked the colour on him. It was still an odd feeling—to know that somebody cared enough to have an opinion on what he wore, and to care enough for them in return to want to accommodate their preference.

He nodded to Gray and Natsu, who were having an animated discussion over a job poster they'd brought to their table to look over. When he realized that against all odds it actually was just a discussion and not a fight, he stopped to wish them a good morning. Gray returned the greeting with his usual "hey, Freed"; Natsu waved, but kept talking about the job. It was interesting to see those two in moments when they were behaving like adults instead of kids. Freed had known them both for several years, and was impressed with how quickly they were developing their powers.

On a more personal note, he appreciated the fact that they were both civil to him—willing to be friendly, even. There were still quite a few ostensibly more mature guild members who resented what he had done during the battle of Fairy Tail. Natsu was quick to anger and quick to move on, just as he had been in the past. Gray was just as reserved as he'd always been with people he didn't know well; he wasn't one to wear his feelings on his sleeve around strangers. That was fine with Freed, who could relate; it hadn't taken long for Freed to understand that a basic "hey, Freed" was Gray's way of being polite. At this point, it didn't reflect any true coldness.

Both of the somewhat younger men had taken his developing relationship with Mirajane in stride. It wasn't their business and they didn't want it to be. If anything, they were happy to see the Fairy Tail/Raijinshūu rifts closing. Freed appreciated both aspects to their attitude. It made the animosity—the occasional glare, or deliberate slight—easier to shrug off.

"Are you going to the fashion show to see Mirajane this afternoon?" asked Gray, ignoring Natsu's continued attempts to get him interested in the mission on the poster.

"There's a fashion show?" asked Natsu, interrupting himself to swivel around. "What kind of fashion show?"

Gray rolled his eyes at him. "What do you mean, what kind of fashion show, flame-brain? It's a fashion show—models like Mirajane will walk down some kind of raised walkway showing off fancy clothes. What did you have in mind?"

"Oi! Enough with the sarcasm, ice princess! I was just curious, that's all." Natsu hunched his shoulders irritably. "Erza and Lucy mentioned it and you never know with them—could've been armour or costumes or something. Why do you care anyway? You can barely keep your clothes on—can't imagine what use you'd have for anything fancy..."

"I care," replied Gray with exaggerated patience, "because the florist asked for my help keeping the flowers for the show fresh and I was hoping to find somebody who would could take the most delicate case—with a few special pieces—over to the location for me. Saves me an extra trip."

"I can do that," Freed put in. "I wonder if I can ask a favour in return—nothing that you aren't already doing."

"What do you need?"

"I'd like to bring flowers. If I could keep them cool with your magic instead of mine, it would be less… conspicuous."

Gray nodded, mostly to himself. Although people were starting to accept Freed and his team again, the dark aura—or at least appearance—of his runes could cause consternation. Or at least a negative reaction. Gray had noticed that Freed wasn't too concerned when people weren't always the nicest to him, but that he tended to look a little scary if it affected Mirajane.

They spent a few more minutes chatting and sorted out some details. It meant that Freed was a bit late for his mid-morning tea with Mirajane, but it was worth it. Every relationship that he built or rebuilt within Fairy Tail made Mirajane happier. It had occurred to Freed recently that Mirajane still wasn't completely sure that he was going to stick around instead of running off to track down Laxus. Every time he created ties to Fairy Tail, she felt more secure. She wasn't wrong that Laxus was very important to him. What she couldn't seem to accept was how much of his heart was hers. He hoped to take a step forward today.

Mirajane was in the square room behind the bar that she used as an office whenever she was acting as Fairy Tail's hostess for the day. Today, she looked preoccupied, although she had his tea and her coffee waiting on the round table she kept in one corner of the room. She was fiddling absently with a napkin, which wasn't like her.

"Good morning, Freed... I saw you talking to Gray and Natsu—is everything okay?"

Freed smiled, taking a moment to appreciate how lovely she was this morning in her soft white sundress with its print of bright flowers. He bent over to kiss her lips, brushed her cheek with his fingers, and seated himself. He always made a point of touching her whenever they meant. Because of her past, when people had been very afraid of her magic—as had she—she had become used to keeping a slight physical distance from people unless she was very certain they were comfortable with her and vice versa.

"Everything is fine. Better than usual, really, since they weren't fighting." Freed sipped at his tea, a simple green with lemon and nothing added. "Gray assumed that I'd be going over to the show later and asked me take some of the flowers for him. He's helping out with his ice magic, I take it. Seems strange to me, but he didn't look put out over it."

Mirajane took a delicate bite of the lemon cookies that she'd set out as a snack. She was an excellent cook. Freed recognized that the cookies had been chosen for him, since they went far better with his tea than with her coffee. It was part of how they were working out their relationship: small gifts of time; changes to long-established routines; a willingness to give priority to a person who wasn't Laxus (or Evergreen or Bixlow), in Freed's case, or Elfman (or any of a dozen members of Fairy Tail), in Mirajane's case. Every couple had to do such things, of course, but people as aware as Freed and Mirajane did it consciously—and carefully. Taking care was important when the partners each controlled so much power and potential for destruction.

"The guild has been trying to get to know the townsfolk of Magnolia a bit better since all the battle," Mirajane told him, once she'd finished swallowing. "A number of the members came up with the same idea, and I liked it, so I agreed to try to set up what you might call more everyday jobs—like Gray helping out the florist by providing specialized ice to keep flowers cool. He actually had to spend some time figuring out how to make it work."

"What do they get in return?" Freed asked, intrigued.

"Just goodwill, sometimes—and you can be sure that I don't let anyone get taken advantage of! But in many cases, small gifts, future concessions, and so on. If Gray were dating somebody, then he'd probably find it easier to get flowers at a busy time of year, or maybe he'd get a discount or something. Since he isn't"—

"Yet," murmured Freed, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"Since he isn't dating yet," said Mirajane, dimpling slightly, "even though you would think—but never mind that. The point is that I'm sure he'll work something out with the florist. We're only just starting out, so who knows how it will go overall?"

"Very well, I expect," Freed assured her.

"Because I'm running it?" asked Mirajane, a trace of laughter in her blue eyes.

"Because it's an excellent idea," Freed responded gravely, ignoring the bait. Mirajane pretended to pout. Freed's mock-serious expression quirked into a slight smile: "And because you're running it, of course."

When Freed stood up to go, about twenty minutes later, he leaned down as if to give Mirajane his customary kiss. He surprised her by speaking quietly into her ear instead.

"I know something's bothering you and I can tell it has to do with me."

Mirajane reddened. She wasn't quite sure what troubled her more: the way that he'd gotten to know her so well within the last three months, or the fact that his warm breath on her ear made her conscious that he was a very good looking man. Before she could respond, Freed bent his head lower, kissed her gently just below her ear, and then on the lips.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he told her, ignoring her blush. "And if you don't, that's alright too." He waited a moment, and then bowed slightly when she didn't speak. "I'll see you later this afternoon, Mira. I'm looking forward to the show."

[II] - A Path Among the Briars: Hidden Thorns

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon as the final ensembles—filmy summer gowns—were being shown off by the region's top three models, which naturally included Mirajane. Although there had been some men's clothing featured earlier on, there was no question that it had been rather limited in sophistication and style compared to what had been on display for women. Freed hadn't seen much of great interest overall, but he would have been the first to admit that he was far more interested in watching Mirajane than the clothes. She looked wonderful no matter what she wore, but to Freed's perception it was the elegance of mind, magic and body together that made her stand out. The other two models were much taller than the lovely mage, but her presence eclipsed their height.

As the local favourite, Mirajane was the last of the three models to swirl down the runway, looking very much like a fairy in gossamer-thin chiffon over sheer silk in deceptively simple white that somehow glowed and shimmered like opal as she moved. Somebody had either been very lucky or very skillful in arranging the time and place of the show: the gown looked almost magical against the deepening rosy-orange hues of the sky. There was a rustle of whispers and indrawn breaths across the crowd, and then Natsu—who had arrived toward the end of the show, the gods only knew why—started to cheer. A moment later he was being shown how to clap politely by his teammates, Erza and Lucy. They had apparently pulled his scarf tight over his mouth.

It might have been because he was watching her so closely that Freed saw sudden apprehension dawn on Mirajane's face just as she took a moment to glance down at him. Acting on long-honed instinct,[i] he twisted and vaulted lightly onto the edge of the catwalk. Even as he moved, the place where he had been standing was doused in sticky black oil by the man who had been on his right. It was absurd and yet somehow menacing; the expression on the man's face was venomous. Mirajane looked stricken and then masked her expression with a graceful half-curtsey to Freed as if asking him to join her.

Freed flicked his eyes over his would-be assailant, even as he closed the short distance to Mirajane's side. It took an immense effort of will not to make the man suffer immediately for ruining Mira's pleasure in her success. Freed tended strongly toward the concept of law and order, not to mention crime and punishment; in this case what held his hand was the realization that almost any retaliation would reflect worse on him and those associated with him than on the perpetrators. The fact that Erza had appeared at the man's side helped considerably. Whatever he'd tried to shout was muffled by a strong (albeit white-gloved) hand over his mouth.

"You look incredible in that gown, Mira," he told her sincerely. "If you will do me the honour of letting me accompany you for a few moments, I would appreciate it. I can't do you justice, of course." He gave her wry look and extended his hand with a bow.

Mirajane managed a dazzling professional smile, although it didn't reach her eyes. Fortunately, most people in the crowd simply treated Freed as additional entertainment—the incident itself hadn't been visible to very many. Freed's name had been coupled with Mirajane's in recent magazine articles, and Fairy Tail wizards were notoriously eccentric, although Mirajane was generally held to be an exception.

The good-looking pair strolled to the end of the catwalk, Freed holding Mirajane's fingertips in his own as if he were about to lead her into some old-fashioned dance. He was careful to ensure that she could still show off her gown—and figure—to advantage. On the whole, it went quite well, although they were both glad to leave the runway once they'd returned to the far end. Mirajane still had to go back to give a short speech about the beauties of Magnolia, and to receive a small tribute and gift from the show organizer, but other than that she was done for the day.

While Mirajane was in the dressing room changing, Gray came over to Freed with the boxed flowers that the ice mage had agreed to bring.

"Didn't realize you were taking up modelling," Gray commented, with slightly raised brows.

"The timing was right," replied Freed, straight-faced.

"Ah. Well, apparently the guy who tried to give you a makeover right before your big debut wasn't looking for autographs. Seems that he's the head of one of Mirajane's nuttier fan clubs, and pretty disturbed that his fair-haired goddess has taken up with, um, somebody like you."

"Like me?"

"Maybe he doesn't like cravats? His goal was to paint you as black as your evil heart—or something like that. So that Mirajane would see you for what you really are. Anyway, that's all I heard from Erza, who said that you could break the bad news to Mirajane."

Freed had been about to turn away, but he paused.

"Bad news?" he asked, cautiously. With Erza, you never quite knew.

Gray smirked. "Yeah… Erza introduced the guy to Elfman—so to speak. Said that such a loyal supporter deserved to meet the family."

Freed thanked Gray for the news and the flowers and was waiting outside the dressing room when Mira emerged. He was a little surprised—and disappointed—when he saw that Lucy and Cana were with her.

"Don't worry, lover-boy," said Cana, poking him on the shoulder and eyeing the flower box with interest. "We were just touching base and bringing Mira up to speed. That guy was awfully sweet on her, but he wasn't playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean." Cana flipped her own deck of cards up into the air in some kind of complicated shuffle, and turned over the top card one-handed. "Aw, look at that, Luce, the Joker looks just like Freed!"

Freed had managed to end up at Mirajane's side with his arm around her waist, but he leaned in to look good-naturedly.

"You drew little green lightning bolts onto his hair?" asked Lucy, peering at the card.

"Ha! No, sometimes my cards just kinda pick things up. You look good in the harlequin outfit, lover-boy. But seriously, Freed, next time you model, get some tips from Gray—that woulda been way more exciting if you'd stripped."

"Cana!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your lacy pink bikinis in a twist, Mira. Oops! Look at the time—gotta go!"

Cana dragged Lucy off with her (possibly as a shield in case of retaliation from the fuming model), sending a parting shot over her shoulder: "You know what they say Mira—if you've got it, flaunt it! Better yet—share it!"

There was a short silence, and then Freed offered his arm. Although the episode with the crazy fan still disturbed him, certain of Cana's comments to Mirajane had taken a certain hold of his imagination. They started walking through the lovely public garden that had been the site of the show. Mirajane usually had boundless energy, but she seemed tired.

"I thought I was overreacting," she admitted.

"Ah… to what?" Freed blushed very slightly, trying rein in his imagination.

Mirajane gave him a critical look, and her somber expression lifting a little.

"Well, not to Cana, if that's what got your, er, knickers in a twist!" She peeped sideways at Freed and thought she saw the flush deepen across his cheekbones.

"Um… I'm not sure—"

"And they're not pink. But they are cute and lacy."

This time the blush wasn't her imagination, but Freed said nothing, just kept his eyes focussed ahead.

"Tell me what happened with your fan," he asked. "I assume that's what was bothering you this morning."

"I got an anonymous message—several actually—saying that you should leave me alone and things like that. And odd threats, very theatrical sounding."

"Maybe he was hoping for tar and feathers, but it was difficult to be inconspicuous with a large pillow—or chicken—at a fashion show. Still, it was unpleasant and I sorry it ruined things for you."

"Oh… in retrospect it's not so bad. But I was pretty sure it was him, you see. And then I realized he was right beside you."

"I should thank him for letting me spend more time with you."

"I suppose."

"Mira, here's a pretty place where we can sit, and I can give you your flowers."

She smiled up at him, noticing that he looked rather serious. The bench sat on a grassy sward and looked out over a wide lily pond. Brightly coloured fish swam like living gems in the depths, and the sunset was reflected in the gently rippling water.

Once they had sat down, she took the box, admiring the little snowflake design imprinted on the lid.

"One of Gray's boxes?"

"Mm-hmm. The florist did tremendous business today."

Mirajane lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper. She smiled as she uncovered two dozen glorious long-stem roses, intermixed white and red. She'd never seen roses quite this size or style before—and even the scent was wonderful. Much of the foliage had been left on around the stems.

"I know that roses are rather traditional, but then, so am I," said Freed. "However, these are unusual roses."

Mirajane picked up one velvety red rose, admiring the deep colour. Then she gave a soft, involuntary cry, and brought a finger to her mouth.

"Thorns? I thought the florist generally got the ones without thorns? And… these are fairly serious thorns."

"They are, and florists do—dispense with thorns, that is. Easier for them, and the customer. But I bought these ones from somebody who grows the most spectacular flowers. He tends to prefer his plants with all of their natural defenses."

"You convinced Droy to part with some of his plants? And since when does he experiment with roses?"

"It was a special commission. We also discussed possible applications, and he believes the thorns could be quite useful."

Mira sat turning the incredible—and dangerous—red rose in her hands. Freed picked out a white rose and handed that to her as well.

"You're being symbolic, aren't you?" Mirajane said quietly.

"I'm afraid so."

"Beautiful roses with deadly thorns."

"Yes, but still the very best roses there are—although perhaps the thorns can only be appreciated by a few."

"What… is this about, Freed?"

"We've been seeing each other for three months." Freed hesitated then continued, watching Mira holding her two roses, enjoying the scent and the soft petals, but careful to hold the stems by the foliage or between the thorns. "And I wondered if, sometime in the near future, we could pick out an apartment together, or maybe a small townhouse." He sensed Mirajane go very still, her eyes still fixed on the roses.

"You see," Freed explained, picking his words with care, "you live with your brother, and you're very close. And I live with my team, and that's fine too. But I want us to be something more to each other. Maybe not married, because that's an even bigger step, in my opinion. But to share a space that we choose together and make ours. Learning each other's' habits—even the bad ones. Hopefully choosing to share a bed, although I can patient—despite how it may seem."

The silence stretched for almost five minutes, and then Mirajane sighed and set the roses back into the box. Freed tried and failed not to tense, but she had only left her hands open to take his, and optimism returned. He searched her well-known face for a hint of her thoughts.

"That's… a pretty major proposal. Or proposition."

"I know."

"But I'm not against it."

"So?" Freed asked, trying to remain as calm and steady as usual.

"Let's go looking. We can get people used to it in the meantime."

"Is that a yes?"

Finally, Mirajane laughed. "Yes, it's a yes. You really caught me off-guard though. I should be demanding to get married first or something though…"

"We can talk about that."

She shook her head. "You're very certain—about us, I mean."

"I am."

They stared at each other for quite a while, and then Freed leaned forward as he had much earlier in the day, to whisper in her ear: "I love you. You're the right person for me. And I'm the right person for you. I really believe that. I will look after you, and protect you, and treasure you. And I will share my secrets with you, and trust you, and let you look after me. That's what I want." His hands reached cradled the back of her head. Before he kissed her, he added:

"And, of course, at some point, I absolutely, definitely want to make love to you."

Mirajane blushed and tried to say something, but it got lost in the kiss.

[END]

[i] I resisted adding references to mystic and valor here. As you can see. If you don't catch the reference, you truly, truly aren't missing anything.

A/Note: I've had a concept in mind for this story from the start; as you can tell, it's primarily a romance, but a romance that I felt could work. It's like trying to fill in the colours while keeping the shape of the art the same. As usual, I'm learning as much from writing the characters as I have from the anime, fanpages and fanworks. I hope this chapter was enjoyable for those who appreciate this couple. \(^u^)/ As always, reviews, notes and comments are greatly appreciated. Just a simple comment can really make a writer's day!