A/N: Short update, but I was drawing a blank on what to do for 'five golden rings'. Thanks to rhosinthorn for helping a girl out here!

Disclaimer: I do not down Fairy Tail.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Five golden rings...

Lucy wasn't sure what to be more offended by: the fact that Erik had, once again, found his way onto her sofa, or the fact that he was wearing a jersey in support of Desierto's ice hockey team.

Being a Fiore-or-bust kinda girl herself, she was inclined to think the latter.

"Is that a Desierto jersey?" Lucy demanded, setting her groceries down in the kitchen and moving to plant herself in front of the TV. "Erik Adria Vivas, I know you are not leveling me with this kind of disrespect under my own damn roof."

"Did you just middle-name-drop me?" Erik asked in abject disbelief.

"Yes. Now explain the jersey before I permanently blacklist you from my apartment."

"Winter Olympics?" He raised a brow. "The ice hockey matches are today. Fiore versus Desierto. Match of the century."

"Why are you watching it in my apartment? You have your own TV." A very fancy TV at that. Half the reason Lucy enjoyed her infrequent trips upstairs was his massive TV. Not only was it wider than her arm span (granted, that wasn't much), but the thing had just about every channel known to man programmed onto it, so she could indulge in her guilty pleasure soaps without having to deal with the billion trojan viruses that came from torrenting them on her crappy laptop. Soaps, Lucy mused, that she hadn't caught up on in about a week.

"Er, about that." He looked down at his fuzzy socks as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. "So, I got kinda hammered last night and thought it would be fun to make elephant toothpaste, except I misjudged the amounts and shit so my TV is kinda under a mountain of foam right now."

"You work for the CDC."

"When I'm sober."

"You," Lucy announced. "Are fucking hopeless."

"Eh, I manage," he said offhandedly. "Besides, I got you to balance out the idiocy."

Lucy ducked back into the kitchen before the heat in her cheeks caused a distinct rise in the living room's temperature. There he was doing it again. That thing where he said shit straight out of a cheesy romance flick and had her piece-of-shit brain going a million miles an hour picking apart each word as if it were a poem to be analyzed for one of Mard Geer's legendary English courses.

"Wanna get me a drink?" Erik called from the other room. "Game's in T-minus...twenty."

"Fiore's gonna win," Lucy said as she pulled out two clunky plastic tumblers and set them on the counter. She then went for her meager liquor shelf and went through the motions of preparing a Long Island Iced Tea - a drink she had made so many times she didn't need to pay attention to the portion sizes any more: a half ounce of triple sec, rum, gin, vodka, and tequila, an ounce of sour mix, and seven ounces of coke to top it off. She substituted the lemon slices for lemon juice and tossed in a few ice cubes before carrying the cirrhosis-in-a-cup, as she had fondly dubbed it, back to her sofa. She made sure to keep a solid foot between herself and Erik, because there was no doubt in her mind if he touched her that her drink would find itself a new home in the fabric of her ratty sweater.

"Nope. I did a statistical analysis on the last Olympics and found that Desierto has been kicking your ass when it comes to gold medal wins," Erik said proudly.

"Get the fuck out."

"What, don't believe me?" At her raised eyebrow, he shoved his drink in her spare hand and headed for her balcony. Alarmed, Lucy set the drinks down and followed him out, only to wish both those drinks were currently in her bloodstream because she was way too sober for the events to follow.

"Erik!" She screeched. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Climbing up?" He waved the string of lights that he had yet to hoist up from where it dangled off his balcony. Lucy was still debating whether or not she needed to call a physicist to come in and check on the structural integrity of that thing because no matter how hard she tugged on it, come hell or high water, it would not budge. Nevertheless, her heart was giving Usain Bolt's a run for his money, what with how rapidly it was beating. She didn't care if that string could withstand being torched by the sun - if he fell down and cracked his stupid, thick skull open on the ground, she would bring him back to life to kill him all over again

"Can you not take the stairs?"

"Nah, this is faster. Be right back." And with that, her resident idiot was scaling the rope like a pre-teen boy during the gymnastics session of P.E. Lucy threw her hands up in the air and ventured back inside, sliding her balcony door shut. Let him have fun breaking in now, she thought sourly as she sat down and picked up her drink. It was only after about five sips that she realized she had no idea which cup was hers and she had selected at random, at which point her drug-dealing neighbour a floor down probably heard her spontaneously combust.

Holy shit, had she just indirectly kissed him?

"Those don't mean anything, right, Plue?" Lucy turned to her dog nervously. Plue, ever the traitor, merely went back to shredding Erik's scarf.

It wasn't like they were in the fifth grade, she scolded herself. Indirect kisses weren't a thing at her age.

…could they be?

Okay, Lucy, stay calm. There's a fifty percent chance that you just...totally drank your own drink and not his. Even if you did drink his, there's not remotely enough saliva present to constitute a proper kiss. But there was indirect lip contact. A smooch? No. A peck.

"I indirectly pecked him." She covered her face with her hands and groaned. Crushes needed to be illegal. Emotions in general, really, but she'd settle for a small victory.

"Seriously?" Erik grumbled as he slammed the balcony door shut behind him. "Locking me out? Where is your Christmas spirit?"

"In the same place as Desierto's chances of winning," Lucy shot back.

"ANOVA would like to have several words with you." He threw a folded sheet of paper on her lap before plopping down next to her, closer than before, and snagging his (or her) drink. Lucy opened the sheets and winced. She had never liked stats. There were too many tests for what she felt could be deduced just by looking at the overall number and going 'this is bigger'.

"Levene's test is insignificant," Lucy pointed out. "Doesn't that mean this whole test was moot?"

"Levene's is supposed to be insignificant, it means equal variances are assumed," Erik corrected, leaning closer. Lucy stiffened as his breath gently ruffled the hair that had fallen over her cheek. Holy mother of God, he was close. Way, way too close.

"So, um." Lucy shuffled to the next page, focusing on the post-hoc tests. She was pleased to see that, at the very least, she recognized this. "These are to tell me where the differences exist, yeah?"

Erik tapped the paper lightly. "Check the significance column. Under point-zero-five and we're good. Then look at the mean and standard deviation. As you can see, Desierto has been kicking Fiore's ass."

"This is bullshit," Lucy declared, folding the paper and tucking it under a pillow. "We have Lyon Vastia, all else is irrelevant."

"What should I have expected out of a soft science?" He sighed dramatically, falling back and snatching her back pillow. Lucy's eye twitched. There he was doing it again. That thing where his STEM elitism came out full force and Lucy felt the need to beat him with a copy of her neuropsych textbook in the hopes of transferring the words in the text to his head via forced osmosis.

"It's not like quantitative data means anything to you lot."

She was going to strangle him with the lights hanging off his balcony. After she beat him with her textbook, of course.

"That's it!" She leapt to her feet and jabbed two fingers into his sternum, taking great pleasure when he jerked back. Sternal rubs - great for everything from assessing consciousness to waking up drunk people.

"If Fiore wins, you get a psych tattoo done on you! On your chest! It's gonna be a huge brain and it's gonna have 'I love psychology' written around it in big, swirly script," Lucy said. Erik's functioning brow raised at that. He stood up, causing Lucy to inch back a little. He was tall. A little too tall to be intimidated by her tiny frame, but dammit she would try. She squared her shoulders and stared up at him stubbornly.

Bastard looked amused. Amused!

"When Desierto wins, you're gonna get the entire periodic table tattooed on your back," he countered. "Colour coded, too."

"Deal!" She stuck her hand out. Erik returned the gesture, and Lucy was struck by how surprisingly soft his hands were. She would have thought with all the time spent wearing latex gloves that they would have been more clammy.

"I use a lot of lotion."

Shit, had she said that out-loud?

...wait.

"Oh, ew."

She was choking.

"Get off!" Lucy gasped, struggling to get her hands out from under her. The weight on her back pressed down harder, forcing her ribs down on her knuckles. She kept her legs locked out of fear of jostling them too hard and knocking a kneecap out of place.

Lucy craned her neck to the side and took in shallow breaths, just like she remembered doing during swim practice as a child. Small and steady, small and steady, small and-

"Desierto nation, baby!" Erik crowed from where he was pinning her down in his excitement. He tightened his grip around her shoulders and cheered. "Get ready for that table, Heartfilia!"

"Fuck you!" She snapped her head back, allowing a satisfied smirk to curl her lips up as he cursed and drew back. Lucy twisted over, planting her feet firmly in his lap and stomping down a little too close to his family jewels.

"Fiore will make a comeback in the last ten minutes," she said confidently. They had to make a comeback. There was no way she could ever wear her favourite tank tops out in public with a periodic table big enough to be seen from Mars stamped across her back.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Vastia score the tying goal.

"Yes!" She screeched, leaping up and tackling him. Erik let out an undignified squawk (had it been any other time and she would have teased him for hours about that) and clamped down on her hips, pushing her away. "Get off, you psycho bitch!"

"Eat ass!" Lucy chirped, relaxing her grip but staying attached to him. She would be lying to herself if she said she totally wasn't using the game as an excuse to sidle up to him and get physical. Inner Cana wanted her to lay one on him right there and then; Rational Lucy wanted her to run to the nearest highway and crawl into a ditch; Regular Lucy wanted Erik to stretch his arms around her back a little more so the pseudo-hug got more...pseudo hug-y.

"Vastia's gonna win, he's gonna win, there's no doubting this, Vastia's gonna win and then Dr Vivas is gonna have to explain to his colleagues why he's softening up to a soft science."

"My colleagues know when to keep their damn mouths shut," he muttered into her neck. "I get to play with the fun poisons that they like staying away from."

"You're an ass," she announced, unwinding herself from him and curling up to his side instead. "What did they ever do to you?"

"Breathe, generally." Erik rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Oh, and steal my lunch that one time, but after the laxatives in the next batch they stopped."

"So if I stole your lunch you'd give me laxatives?"

"Nah, I take pity on your poor, undergrad soul. My shitty food is probably a Michelin meal compared to your ramen."

"I hope you get hydrochloric acid spilled on your arm and you wind up with a horrible scar."

"You say that as if that hasn't already happened. Minus the scar."

"Of course it has," she mumbled, turning her full attention back to the screen. Vastia flew across the ice as if it were designed solely with his strengths in mind, weaving between other players and maneuvering the puck like it was an attachment of his hockey stick. Lucy's blood pumped faster with every near-miss he had, angling herself with his twists and turns - it was like magic, she thought, the way one man had such command over himself and an audience.

"Come on, Vastia," she breathed, bouncing her leg anxiously. Her nails would be sore the next day with how deeply she had bitten them.

"Conbolt has this in the bag," Erik snapped back, though he seemed somewhat nervous now that Vastia was getting close to the net.

"Conbolt's got shitty reaction time, he's never gonna be able to intercept."

Vastia narrowly missed a player from the right. Lucy's hands shot out and grabbed Erik's, gripping them tightly.

"Please, Vastia's only got his speed going for him. He can't see shit coming for him."

Conbolt swept in from the side, throwing his stick out to try and bring the puck towards himself. Erik didn't protest as she drew their joined hands towards her chest. If anything, he squeezed back harder.

"Considering Vastia's about to score the winning goal-"

"Considering Conbolt's about to ride Desierto to victory-"

The apartment went black.

"Did…"

"The lights just went out." Erik sounded dazed. Lucy herself felt as though the wind had just been knocked out of her chest.

"I'm going to murder our downstairs neighbour," she said calmly.

"Not if I get to him first."

"Turns out it was some electrical issue, so the junkies are safe for now," Lucy sighed as she concluded her tale. Across the table, Erza nodded sympathetically. Gray and Natsu were busy kicking each other under the table (half of the kicks having been delivered to her by accident) and sipping at their hot cocoa. Seated next to her, Erik looked half ready to take his fork and cleave off their legs - she imagined he had received the other half of the kicks.

Two hours after The Incident found the group at a sports bar near the university. Lucy had tried to run to the bartender to find out who won the match (though she had absolutely no doubt in her mind that it was Fiore), but then she had spotted her friends in a corner and made a mad dash towards them. Erik had slipped off to get the two of them drinks (of the non alcoholic variety, seeing as the Long Island had started taking effect) and returned with an annoyed expression and promises that no, I had not asked who won the match you brat, I said we'd figure out together, didn't I?

"Pity," Erik said. "Some of the newbies are getting tired of rat testing."

"You're kidding, right?" Gray paled. "Right?"

Erik flashed his teeth in a broad grin. "Am I?"

"Lucy, you're dating a creep," Natsu said sagely. Said blonde choked on her hot chocolate, gagging as a marshmallow went down the wrong pipe. Erik thumped her back until she threw a hand up and pinned her best friend with a glare so vicious he grabbed Gray's discarded jacket and used it as a shield.

"We're not dating," she snarled. Thankfully, her cheeks were still flushed from the cold outside so it wasn't like they could see the difference after his comment. It was bad enough that her traitor brain was making her have feelings - those she could keep to herself. Her friends making stupid remarks, however, she could not keep to herself.

Well, maybe if she whipped out some blackmail from high school…

"Lyon's gonna have a riot when he hears about this," Gray laughed. "Damn, I can't wait to tell him at Christmas."

Lucy had gone eerily still. "You know Lyon Vastia?"

Gray raised an eyebrow. "He's my half-brother, didn't you know?"

"What!" She screeched, launching herself across the table and grabbing his shirt. "I'm half a degree of separation from Lyon fucking Vastia?! All this time! Gray, why didn't you tell me before?"

"I thought you knew!" He yelled, tugging her wrists. His wide eyes darted frantically from Natsu (who was cackling) to Erza (who was busy texting someone - Jellal, probably) to Erik (who looked as pleased as a fat cat), silently begging one of them to take her off him.

"So who won the match?" The toxicologist eventually asked, pulling Lucy down by the back of her sweater.

"It was a tie," Gray said. "Fiore and Desierto split gold."

"Wait, so does this mean we both get tattoos?" Lucy turned to Erik.

"Tattoos?" Erza perked up at that. "Erik, I entrusted you with Lucy in the hopes that you wouldn't drag her down into these barbaric activities. I see that my trust was misplaced. Very well, then. I challenge you to a duel-"

"Doesn't Jellal have tats?" Natsu mused.

"Don't you have a tramp stamp, Erza?" Gray pointed out. "I saw it when-" Abruptly, he was silent.

"You saw it when what?"

"Never! Didn't see a thing!"

"Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil!" Natsu squeaked.

"Oh, so I am evil now?"

"No, wait, Erza-!"

"Your friends are certifiably batshit insane, I hope you know that," Erik said in an undertone. Lucy laughed and grabbed his peppermint latte, finishing it off with a flourish and looking up at him. "Yup!"

"You got a little…" He pointed at her upper lip.

"Huh?"

He wiped it with his thumb and drew back to show her the whipped cream. "A little that."

"You ruined my Santa moustache!"

"You know if you rearrange the words in Santa you get Satan?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Eh, nothing really, just thought it was fitting for you." He popped his thumb into his mouth and licked off the cream, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh, way too sweet."

"Erik indirectly kissed Lucy!" Natsu yelled.

"What?"

"Erza, put the tinsel down, dammit!"

A/N: If you guys think Erik was being too expressive here, you have not seen people get hyped around Olympics time. It's insane.

What I didn't put in in terms of lengths, I did in terms of fluff. I hope. Lots of touching going on here, honhon mignon, I wonder if it'll get even more intense in the next update...?

In the eternal words of all fanfiction authors present here during 2009: I'll give you a cookie if you review.

Excuse me, I need to go wash the cringe off me.

-Eien