A/Note: This chapter, as long as it is, focuses entirely on Mirajane and Freed and the complications that can arise when two powerful people try to forge an intimate relationship. The chapter is rated M as a precaution, as there is at least implied sexual content. The next chapter will also be rated M and will have sexual content.

I have decided to increase the rating for the whole story rather than have the M-rated chapters in a different place as I've done before. If you have any concerns over content, please feel free to send me a PM.

I hope that you enjoy the story!

~ImpracticalOni

First Steps: Beyond Kisses

(Prompts: Day 5—Lipstick; Day 6—Children)

[I]—Tea and Kisses

As expected, the gossip mill churned with great fervour when it became known that Mirajane and Freed were actively looking for an apartment together. Eventually, there was even a small article about it in the Sorcerer's Weekly, featuring pictures of Mirajane dressed in everything from a skimpy bikini to a floor-length ball gown. The only picture of Freed was from the fashion show in which he'd involuntarily participated, and while he looked elegant enough, the editor seemed to have deliberately chosen the one shot where the angle made his slight smile look more like a leer.

"Well, maybe that was the only photo that the show organizers would allow them to publish," said Mirajane, as they read the article together at their regular date for morning tea. Her voice was light, and she even sounded amused, but Freed knew his lady too well. The over-tight grip on her mug and the angry gleam in her blue eyes was more indicative of her mood.

"Perhaps," Freed agreed. "But we both doubt it, so why pretend? The door is closed and I promise not to repeat anything you have to say about the magazine's editors beyond these four walls."

Mirajane gave him a fond smile, the dangerous spark fading from her eyes.

"I've learned to keep my temper… and sometimes it's easier to keep it if I don't let go of it even in private. For one thing, getting angry around Elfman always sets him off, which seldom works out well. He's very protective, as you may have noticed. But somehow when you tell me to get angry and say exactly what I'm thinking, I no longer feel especially angry."

"That's too bad," Freed commented. "You are not only lovely when you're angry, but also very witty—in a scathing, flay-your-opponent-alive kind of way. By the way, I see that you've finally found a lipstick that is dark enough to match those roses Droy created for you. The colour suits you very well."

He picked up the small cake that she had set down in her annoyance at seeing the photos, broke off a piece, and fed it to her. It was a deliberately sensual—rather than romantic—gesture, and he was pleased to see that Mira's eyes focussed on the way that he licked the crumbs from his fingertips afterward, instead of returning to the magazine.

"You're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" she said softly, the moment she had swallowed the bit of cake.

Freed picked up her hand and traced the line of the vein on her wrist with his thumb.

"Yes, I told you that I would—try, that is."

"You also said you'd be patient." She met his eyes as though to challenge his lack of patience, but her slight shiver when his fingers continued to stroke the soft skin just below her palm detracted somewhat from her protest.

Her green-haired lover—in the more old-fashioned sense of the word, at least for now—smiled in a way that made her bite her lower lip. Somehow, they had gone from discussing an annoying piece of unwanted publicity to… this.

"I said that I can be patient," Freed told her, his thumb still tracing those oddly electric patterns on her inner wrist. "And if I thought that I was bothering you now—in a negative way—then I would be patient. Moreover, I have been patient."

Mirajane was always both irritated and captivated by the way that Freed could make her feel young and rather inexperienced at times like these. In fact, she was young—barely into her early twenties, although she managed to maintain an appearance of wisdom and maturity that fooled even those who knew better—and she was inexperienced in terms of serious relationships. As a teenager she'd been wild and decidedly dangerous to those around her; after her sister had died, she'd reformed into a sexy but untouchable sister-mother figure to the majority of the guild and perhaps Magnolia as a whole.

"I did agree to look for a place together," she ventured, trying vainly to ignore her flushed cheeks and the warmth she could feel spreading outward from where Freed was touching her. "And we'd only been seeing each other for three months at the time!"

"Yes, and I am very happy about that. However, I have come to the conclusion that we are both too domestic—and likely too particular—to find what we want in the apartments and smaller places that we've been looking at."

"What do you mean?"

Before answering the question, Freed leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mira's. It began as a simple kiss, but her lips had already been slightly parted and he took ruthless advantage of that to explore her mouth with his tongue, so that the kiss quickly became deeper and oddly more intense than in the past. Freed's hand slid further up Mira's arm and she felt the strange electric feeling travel with it, as if there were more than mere finger-tips and nerve-endings involved. A few minutes passed, and then Freed felt Mira start to tense. Without being in any way abrupt, he gently ended the kiss and slowly leaned back, folding his hands together so as to resist any further temptation. For now.

"Thank you," Freed said quietly.

Mirajane didn't respond at first. She was staring down at the table as though fascinated by the well-polished wood. Then she shook her head and looked up. Her whole face felt warm and was probably red.

"That was… different. Why?"

"Power—I think. You don't entirely believe me, but I have done my best to… mute things a little. While we got used to each other. I suppose that magic calls to magic—we can both sense spell energy after all—and ours is somewhat aligned. The effect is becoming more pronounced as we become more comfortable together; I don't know why. I noticed it a couple of months ago."

"I didn't."

"I can't fully explain it. I suggest that I am more open to you than you are to me—which is only reasonable in the circumstances. I have hurt you and your family."

"Then I still need to move past the past—so to speak." Mira did not look wholly convinced. After all, she was the one who had originally convinced Freed that his actions on Laxus' behalf had not destroyed their relationship as friends and guild mates.

"Mira…" Freed hesitated. He didn't want to lose her. Reluctantly, he tried to put into words the idea that had come to him over the past few weeks. "You've let me become close to you. Now you've agreed to live with me—if we can find the right place. But I feel as though I'm fighting a constant, silent battle. You really don't like to acknowledge your demon powers, and I won't let you forget them."

"I thought we already talked about that." Mirajane shifted uncomfortably.

"We did. But you are going out with me despite how you feel, not because you are comfortable with your powers. I believe you'll get there—you are already less anxious—but until you can tell yourself that's it's alright and you won't hurt anyone by mistake, you're going to… hold back with me."

Once again, Mira fidgeted. She was intelligent and capable of honest self-analysis; Freed's argument had some merit.

"What does this have to do with getting an apartment?"

Freed had to resist the urge to pace.

"As I said before, oddly enough, demon powers or not, we're both rather domestic creatures." He smiled wryly. "Evergreen and Bickslow are both far more exotic beings than I am, when it comes to creating a space that is a home—not to mention knowing how to cook or tidy. And if you tell me that Elfman has a desire to create gourmet meals then I'll believe you, but I'd be surprised. Or does he have a flair for interior design of which I was unaware?"

That drew a reluctant smile from Mirajane. She nodded in agreement with Freed's assessment.

"In comparison to our families," Freed continued, "you and I secretly want a rather traditional place, with an excellent kitchen, room to entertain, enough space for both guests and our own interests…"

Mirajane laughed out loud. "And a garden and a koi pond?"

"And a fenced yard for the children."

Mira turned noticeably pink again. "It's a little too soon to talk about that," she said in a low voice.

"I agree. That or even the rest of it, maybe, but I think the image is there in our heads already and that's why the apartments and so on aren't satisfying to look at." Freed tilted his head at her. "Since I seem to be pressing my luck anyway, I will complete my analysis. I think you are conflicted: the idea of throwing yourself whole-heartedly into creating your own home and family makes you want more than a utilitarian place to live; however, the idea of being closely involved with me on a day-to-day basis still scares you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Freed!"

"I know." Freed sighed. "I don't think that fear of me—in the obvious sense—is the problem. Either way, I apologize for upsetting you. Besides, I may be completely wrong, and we just haven't found the right place yet."

He rose, took one of Mirajane's hands back, and bowed.

"Freed…" For some reason, Mirajane felt her irritation with the man dissolve again. The strength in his hands and the way that he somehow conveyed both restrained power and the desire for intimacy almost made her shiver again.

"I have reason to believe that Elfman will be out this evening," said Freed in a light tone. "Although it is incredibly presumptuous to invite myself over, may I join you for dinner this evening? If you think that the guild can do without you for an hour or two?"

"I wish Elf wasn't so fascinated by Evergreen," Mirajane replied rather petulantly. When Freed remained silent, she added: "Yes, I'd be happy make dinner for you this evening, even though it is a strange request from a person as consistently polite as you are. I'll find somebody to look after things here."

"Thank you, Mira. I'll see you later, then."

[II]—Intimate Discussions

Freed surveyed the Strauss family home with a slightly sardonic expression. Mirajane and her siblings had been in Magnolia since she was thirteen, during which time they had lived for the most part at the guildhall. The house was fairly new; or more precisely, they hadn't had it for long. Mirajane had bought it about a year ago, when earnings from her modelling jobs had begun to add up. It wasn't especially large, but it was located in what realtors referred to as a "desirable location": an older neighbourhood close to the center of town with full-grown trees and more space between houses than could be found anywhere else. There was a small but pretty garden, and the yard was fenced, although there was no koi pond.

Smiling at the pond idea, Freed walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door, which opened at his approach. Mirajane was wearing a short summer dress in some kind of soft material, and her feet were bare. Freed was pleased that he'd judged correctly: he'd left his usual coat and boots at home in favour of black trousers and a wine-coloured vest over a white dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned and the cuffs loosely folded up. He was gratified to see Mira's eyes widen with surprised approval.

"Come in, Freed… And you needn't look so smug; I freely admit that I like your outfit."

"That isn't going to stop me from looking smug, Mira," her guest replied, kissing her cheek and taking his shoes off inside the door. "After all, I get to have dinner—alone—with you, and you like the clothes I chose for the evening. What man wouldn't feel smug?"

"A more polite man might conceal his smugness," Mirajane suggested, her blue eyes twinkling a little.

"Alas, it isn't exactly politeness I have in mind this evening." Freed pulled his hostess against him in a tight embrace and kissed her firmly on the lips.

"Or food?" Mirajane said with a slight gasp a minute or two later.

"Food would be very welcome," Freed demurred. "I merely wanted to advise you of my intentions ahead of time, so that there was no misunderstanding."

"You didn't even bring flowers or, or anything!"

"True. I invited myself to dinner and brought no gifts. That way, you can't accuse me of trying to bribe you or make you feel guilty or indebted."

Mirajane smacked him lightly on the upper arm and tried to look affronted. "I assure you that I don't feel either guilty or indebted when a dinner guest brings me a small gift or a bottle of wine or something of that kind."

"Ah, but you still have my flowers," Freed pointed out.

"Yes, and although they continue to look lovely—I assume you put some kind of arcane runes on them—I think it's time for new ones! Or are you short of money?"

Mirajane immediately reddened and looked flustered, since she knew that Freed had been working hard to repay the guild and the town of Magnolia for the repairs necessary to both after the battle for Fairy Tail. Freed ignored her consternation, however.

"I am not short of money. Since I denied myself the pleasure of your company for over three months, and have remained busy in the—almost—four months that we've been seeing each other, I am entirely free of debt and then some. However,"—he spoke over Mirajane's attempt to apologize for her question—"I do intend to buy you new flowers, just as soon as we decide on a home together. In the meantime, the original roses serve to remind you of our discussion on the matter."

Mirajane stopped trying to cut in. Instead, she frowned slightly, and tried to shift away so that she could look up at him. When his arms didn't move, and proved as yielding as steel bars, the best she could do was resist the desire to snuggle in closer. It was annoyingly difficult not to.

"I don't need the reminder," she told him at last.

"Excellent. Then let's talk about it over dinner, shall we?"

"You're still trying to get me into bed, aren't you?"

"Yes. I believe that came up during the same discussion. But in perfect seriousness, if you want me to desist, you just need to ask."

Mirajane huffed, but didn't say anything more, so Freed let go of her and followed her into the kitchen. The food smelled wonderful, and it was clear that dessert was baking in the oven.

"I was going to suggest that we eat in here," Mirajane said, "but it's a little warm, I'm afraid. Not that either of us seems to mind the heat much. At least, I don't, and I assume you don't since you normally wear a coat on all occasions."

Freed regarded the good-sized kitchen with its comfortable eating area. It was appropriate to the suggestion he wanted to make over dinner.

"I can create a slightly cooler area that won't be affected by the heat from the cooking, if you don't mind setting the table."

"Showing off?" Mirajane teased.

"No, just being practical."

A short time later, they were eating Mira's wonderful dinner in perfect comfort, only the tiniest distortion indicating the location of Freed's magic. Soft music accompanied dinner, issuing from a shimmering lacrima crystal that was itself a piece of art.

"Alright Freed, you've managed to get things more or less the way you want them, I suspect, so what is it that you want to discuss?" Mirajane fixed her guest with a wary gaze.

Freed finished his mouthful of food without haste.

"I think that we should live here," he said simply. "You have already chosen this place, and I like it very much, so why not?"

Mirajane looked startled and then upset.

"But… Elf lives here and I'm not going to tell him to leave! You can't expect me to!"

Freed nodded his understanding.

"Of course I don't expect you to tell him to leave, but have you considered how he feels? I know you are very close, but he may appreciate his own freedom, you know. Especially if he has his own, ah, interests to pursue. It should have occurred to me sooner, but he's the one who should have an apartment, not us. I can assure you that Evergreen is not in a hurry to settle down."

"Thank goodness," muttered Mirajane.

Freed ignored the interpolation.

"More wine?"

"No thank you!" Then Mirajane discovered that her glass was empty, and with a sense of capitulation, she handed it to Freed. "Alright… That is, yes please."

He filled the glass in silence, along with his own.

"If Elfman dislikes the idea—if he would rather stay here—then I'll come up with something else," he promised, once Mirajane had sipped at her wine.

"I… suspect that won't be necessary," she admitted. "He was as resistant as he could be when I bought the place—which isn't saying much, but I know I overrode his preference to stay at the guildhall. And if I present it to him as something that I want, so that any money I give him up front is just a small thing compared to the rent I'd otherwise have to pay…"

"I'm still surprised you went looking at apartments with me, given that you had this lovely house," Freed told her.

She grinned at him. "You caught me at a weak emotional moment—it had been a trying day."

"Of course."

"And I liked your idea of living together."

"In concept or in reality?"

"Both. I promise."

"Then you will consider my idea?"

"I'll speak to Elfman about it tomorrow. He said he'd likely be home late tonight."

"He will be." Freed spoke with some certainty. Evergreen might not be wholly reconciled to the idea of her team leader being involved with "Little Miss Perfect" (her words, of course), but she was fond enough of Freed—and loyal enough—not to stand in his way. Besides, she liked to torment Elfman without having to admit to herself that she wanted to spend time with him.

"I see." Mirajane frowned, but forbore to cast further aspersions on the Raijinshū's capricious female team member.

She cleared the dinner dishes and took dessert out of the oven to cool. Freed watched her patiently as she made coffee for herself and tea for him, understanding her need for space and occupation while she mulled things over. She liked his idea, he thought. And if they wanted a bigger place someday—since the house only had three bedrooms—they could worry about it then. He knew Mirajane very well, and she would want children sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile, he had more immediate hopes and dreams, but he had already pushed the limits of acceptable behaviour. He allowed himself to be guided into the cosy living room, and sipped his tea while Mirajane described her most recent modelling assignment, and the sleazy photographer who had needed reminding that she was a Fairy Tail mage. Freed smiled appreciatively at the end result, but added the photographer's name to a short mental list of people with whom to have pointed discussions.

"I only have half your attention!" Mirajane protested at that point.

"You have my full attention," replied Freed with perfect truth.

He rose from the armchair to which he'd been directed and set down his plate and cup. His long green hair had been tied back into a low ponytail but his bangs still fell around his face—and over his right eye—as usual. Mirajane caught her breath and then hurried to stand up. Every now and then, she found herself partially mesmerized by how he looked and it was annoying that it seemed to be happening more often lately. She had expected the effect to lessen as she got to know him better. It gave her insight into the effect that she had on others, since his style of beauty was not unlike her own, but that didn't help her to feel less shallow—or less vulnerable.

"You're leaving already?" she asked, puzzled and relieved and disappointed.

"You are holding me at a distance. I am trying my utmost to become closer to you. It isn't an ideal situation. As you reminded me, I promised to be patient."

"But…" Mirajane frowned. Every way she looked at it, he was correct. She was holding him at a distance even though she wanted to be with him. It did suggest that she was afraid. She didn't like—the realization finally crystallized—she truly didn't like not being in control of how she felt.

Despite his best intentions, Freed couldn't resist the somehow woebegone expression on Mirajane's lovely face. She looked bewildered and he had some idea why. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"You'll sort it out. The thing is… I don't really want to seduce you. I don't even want to find out if that's possible. I want to hold you, and touch your skin, and make love to you—because that's what we both want. Shared love, shared responsibility, shared vulnerability. For people with power I think it generally comes down to that."

He could tell that the words made sense to her. Her slim hands reached up to brush the hair out of his face and he reflexively closed his eyes. His right eye was… troubling… to look at. When she leaned into him, arms now around his neck to balance herself, he let go of her shoulders and allowed his hands to rest lightly on her hips. He was surprised when she kissed his neck rather his lips, but kept his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

"Stay for a bit longer, please. I'm sure that your patience hasn't entirely run out, has it?"

"No—ah, no, it hasn't run out. Yes, if you want me to stay I will."

They sat on the couch after that, or rather, Freed sat on the couch and pulled Mirajane onto his lap. He put his arms around her but otherwise left her to choose what to do next. She continued to kiss his neck, and then his ears and finally what she could she see of his shoulders. Somehow he managed to stay still throughout, although he could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He felt his whole body tense when her fingers unbuttoned his vest and most of his shirt, but other than shifting to accommodate reactions that he couldn't possibly help, he didn't move.

His eyes were closed, partly to give his lover a strange semblance of privacy, partly because he thought that if he could see then his control might slip beyond recall. Soft hands traced the muscles and bones of his chest and warm lips trailed along his left collarbone. Unlike Mirajane, he had no difficulty at all in feeling the quasi-electrical sensation of magical power rising along his skin. When surprisingly sharp teeth marked his shoulder he gasped out loud and then gently took Mira's face between his hands.

"That… Wait." He pressed his forehead against hers in an attempt to recover enough breath—and wits—to speak coherently. Her hands remained pressed against his ribs, but she didn't move. Finally, he opened his eyes and smiled ruefully at her. "Well."

"I know I didn't hurt you," Mirajane told him, expression torn between concern and amusement. Her cheeks were flushed, but mostly she appeared to be smug.

"No, not at all." The rapidly darkening bruise on his left shoulder might suggest otherwise, but Freed felt no pain. At least, not there; elsewhere, his clothing was very much too tight and he was distinctly uncomfortable.

"I never really realized that people could blush with their whole bodies," Mirajane mused thoughtfully.

"Mmm. More blood in the capillaries. Shows up more if you have fair skin, too."

"You have nice skin."

"Thank you. So do you."

"You should know, since you've seen most of it; I've modelled all sorts of swimsuits. You, on the other hand, are almost always overdressed." Mirajane's tone was teasing, but Freed could also hear the warring emotions underneath: desire and fear, although the fear was much less pronounced than it had been.

"I find myself overdressed right now, but I suppose that's not the same."

The flush on her cheeks darkened and she looked away. "… No, not quite the same."

"Have you concluded that you can wrap me around your little finger with a few well-placed kisses?" Freed asked, turning her face back toward his.

"Not exactly," Mirajane responded slowly, meeting his eyes—which was saying something, since he could tell that both were visible. "But I'll admit that you've somehow managed to convince me that we should have our own home."

"I thought I'd already convinced you of that?"

"Yes… in a general way. But now I realize that we need our own place because we really need more privacy."

"Ah."

"Not that I didn't already understand that we need more privacy but—look, can you just drop this?"

"Sure."

"And stop looking so smug!"

Freed raised an eyebrow.

"The woman I'm in love with is sitting in my lap and just half undressed me. It's difficult not to feel a least a little smug. Besides, that is very much the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn't you say?"

"My pots are all steel-coloured."

"So's my kettle." Suddenly Freed blinked and looked alarmed. "… Mira…!"

With characteristic stubbornness—at least, Erza would have called it that, if nobody else—Mirajane had twisted so that she was kneeling across Freed's legs, her white hair concealing her face as she used lips and teeth to put a second, matching bruise on Freed's right shoulder. The slight hoarseness in his voice didn't escape her sharp ears, and she was pleased with the effect. Suddenly strong hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her upright, so that they were facing each other again.

"This isn't a game," Freed told her flatly. "Or at least, not one that we can safely play right now. Do you understand? I want you to touch me because you want to: not to establish dominance, not because you're afraid, not because you have something to prove."

There was a long, long silence after that.

"I understand," Mirajane said eventually, very quietly.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Freed immediately apologized. He had already relaxed his grip on her arms.

"Why is this so complicated? Honestly, it's not like this in the books."

"Those would be the books with the half-naked men and women on the covers?"

Mirajane giggled, suddenly sounding a lot more like herself. Freed relaxed a little.

"Yes… Erza and Cana get them—okay, and I do too—and we trade them around. Cana always gets the more explicit ones, and well… there's not much of a plot…"

Fairy Tail's fair-haired girl (so to speak) smirked and reddened again, but without being especially embarrassed. Freed, on the other hand, clapped his hands over his ears.

"I don't want to know about it. Not if it involves Erza. Otherwise I'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time and who knows what will happen."

"Oh? More afraid of her than of me?"

"Yes: you actually care about me and I'd like to think that you would hesitate to damage me too severely if I accidentally embarrassed you."

Mirajane rolled her eyes, and then smiled.

"I care quite a lot, to be honest. So I guess you have a point." She hesitated, then added: "It may take a little while for me to sort things out with Elf and make sure it's okay. He'll grumble a lot about me living with you, even though he's kind of got his head around things more, now."

"I think you'll find him fairly tractable at the present time. He, ah, doesn't have much of a leg to stand on, you know, from a moralistic point of view."

"… I'd rather not think about that, but I suppose it's true. All I was going to say, though, is that if we wait to have this place entirely to ourselves then it could be a few days or a few weeks."

"True," Freed said neutrally.

"And the man I love is sitting here partly-undressed and rather dishevelled and it seems a shame to waste the opportunity."

"Really?" The man in question could feel his heart beat accelerate again, as Mirajane began to run a hand gently down his neck and along his collarbone. Her other hand was working on the last two buttons of his shirt, which she had liberated from his trousers.

"Yes. I don't get to see you dishevelled very often, Freed. It's rather disturbingly attractive."

"Probably because you know that it's only with you."

"That could be true." Mirajane finally managed to undo the last of the shirt buttons, and she paused to admire her handiwork before running both hands along Freed's flat stomach and up across his ribs. "Or maybe I'm just infatuated."

"I don't think it's infatuation. Lust maybe. Love and lust together aren't a bad thing, you know."

"I'm relieved to hear it. There are a lot of conflicting messages out there, though. So I might still get a little anxious from time to time…"

"I can live with that," Freed said. "I never expected things to be simple. I just wanted a chance to resolve the complications."

He shifted his legs onto the couch and settled himself more comfortably against the soft armrest. Then he pulled Mira down against his chest and ran his hands down her back and over her hips, brushing his fingertips across the tops of her bare legs. When that seemed to be acceptable, he brought his hands back to her face and smiled.

"So it's okay to tell me to stop, right?"

"I know. I'm not a child."

"I am in no way treating you like a child," Freed pointed out.

Mirajane kissed him, lightly at first and then more emphatically. "True," she said, once they were both rather out of breath.

"The only other thing I was going to add," murmured Freed, "is that unless you do tell me to stop sooner rather than later, I would prefer to go somewhere with a door."

"Just in case of jealous lovers, brothers, that kind of thing?"

"No. For that kind of thing, I recommend magic wards. For a basic sense of privacy, a door is sufficient."

Mirajane laughed and managed to snuggle closer. "Let's just stay here for a bit, okay? Then we'll see."

[To be continued…]

Note: Reviews and comments (even short ones) would be much appreciated. I enjoyed writing this chapter, which sets the stage for the next (and concluding) chapter. Unfortunately, I was unable to put everything together in as short a time as I'd hoped (i.e., during Mirafreed Week itself).