A/N: I think this is the quickest update I've ever pushed out, holy shit. It's been less than a week, I'm proud of myself.
We're in the homestretch, y'all. One more day of Christmas left, and then the epilogue and I can kiss this fic goodbye! Holy shit, my first complete multi-chapter...unrealistic, lmao.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail, Hiro Mashima does. I do not own any products mentioned in this fanfiction.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
Eleven pipers piping.
"How much do you know about music?"
Lucy tapped her teeth with her fork rhythmically before answering. "If the little hat is right-side up then it's a whole rest, and if it's upside down then it's a half rest. Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge. Forks And Chopsticks Everywhere. When you play the flute you have to tongue it. The bass clef looks like a drunk mathematician tried to draw the Fibonacci sequence."
"Good enough for me," Erik said. He speared another chunk of brownie off her plate and stuck it in his mouth. "Macbeth's being roped into doing something for the Christmas concert at the U. You're my plus one. Did you put nuts in this thing?"
"Excuse me?" Lucy yelped. "Your plus one? Says who?"
"Says me ten seconds ago. Go do a dichotic hearing test or something. You didn't answer my question, though, are there nuts in this? 'Cause that's kinda ingenious," Erik said. He leaned forward to steal more off her plate, but she deftly intercepted his fork with the prongs of hers. Stealing her fucking brownies was a sin enough as is, but to drag her to some stupid music show against her will? Double the sacrilege.
"I'm not going," she said slowly, punctuating each word with a little jerk of her fork. "I hate concerts. Do you know how many I skipped growing up? I don't even have enough fingers to count them all. And - oh for fucks sake, yes they've got peanuts in them, happy?" Erik sat back, smooshed brownie in hand, and dropped his fork with an air of satisfaction.
Lucy stared at his plate, piled high with eclair's and gummy worms, and raised an eyebrow judgmentally. She'd told him to take one of each just to see if he liked it, but no, nobody ever listened to her in this godforsaken building. Not Jackal down the hall when she told him that he needed to change his fire alarm batteries every six months and not every five years (one kitchen fire later and he got a whole new system), not Kyouka two floors down who thought that ammonia and bleach would make for a good cleaning solution despite Lucy's (parroted from Erik) warnings that it was dangerous (the HAZMAT team had a field day dealing with the chlorine gas while Kyouka had been carted off to intensive care), and not Erik who, as of late, seemed to live on her sofa.
The result? One spat out bite of an eclair, and barely touched gummy worms.
"You dragged me to your dad's Christmas ball-"
"You fucking voluntold yourself!"
"Because we're kind of not really dating and I'm ethically obligated to. If we weren't kind of not really dating, then I wouldn't have had to go and eat the fucking caviar that gave me indigestion, so-"
"I told you that caviar is disgusting, but no, you just had to steal a whole tray of that shit-"
"I'm therefore cashing in on the 'were it not for' legal thing and dragging you with me to even the ledger," Erik declared, flicking a gummy worm at her. Reflexes honed by popcorn tossing competitions with Natsu, Gray, and Erza had her angling her head back to catch the gummy worm in her mouth. She hated these stupid things almost as much as concerts, but she would not let him see her bow down, no sir.
"Sorano's a horrible influence on you," Lucy grumbled, poking the remains of her brownie moodily. If she dragged her fork over the corner, it kinda looked like Erik's bedhead...shrugging, she continued to hack away at that. Illegal to stab him, but not illegal to stab something that sort of looked like him. She did her psychological training proud.
"I'll pick you up at ten."
"I'll be dressed for a funeral."
True to her word, Lucy was decked out in all black. She'd gone so far as to take a black Sharpie to the white soles of her boots. Black lipstick would have been overkill, but she owned (and by owned she meant 'Juvia had forgotten it in her makeup drawer after a party') a shade of red that was so dark it could have passed for black, so that would have to do.
Erik, on the other hand, appeared to have been dressed by Santa's closest elves.
"Holy shit," was all she could manage to say upon opening the door, equal parts due to his sweater and the fact that he actually used her door. She peeked over her shoulder quickly - The Rope was still hanging firm.
"Laugh it up," he snarled, tugging at the candy-cane patterned sleeves. "You'll be the one digging Sorano's grave once this is all over."
"She picked that out for you?" Lucy asked as she stepped out into the hall and locked the door.
"Richard did," he replied grimly. "And he's got that whole…" He waved his hand over his face, wrinkling his nose as if he'd just had smelling salts jammed into them.
"Puppy eyes, innocent face thing?" Lucy finished, pressing the down button. She took a second look at his sweater. It was hard to pick out a favourite aspect of it because there was just so much going on. How could she decide between the line of gingerbread men kicking their legs in the air, adorned with gummy hats and canes that made up the center of the sweater, or the gigantic, sparkly tree-topping stars that formed the shoulder pads? The sparkly tinsel that wound around his arms, or the little glittery orbs that hung off the collar? Santa's reindeer dancing around the bottom of the sweater, or the smattering of snowflakes running up the sides? It had to be homemade. There was no way something this deliciously ugly could be bought in stores. Especially not when the tinsel was real and practically demanding that she run her fingers through it.
"Yeah, that," he grumbled. "And she modified it, so it's her funeral."
Lucy bit her bottom lip. The sweater was doing absolute wonders for making him look like a pouty puppy. He was as angry as he was when talking about his co-workers, but right now he was about as intimidating as Natsu when drunk and in his cat onesie. She stuffed her hands in her pockets as they stepped into the elevator. She couldn't pinch his cheeks and coo at him; for one, he would never let her live it down, and for two, she would be joining Sorano in the pit he'd be digging later that night.
They were sort of dating, though, so there was probably an exception-clause-thing for her. Besides, if he was going to drag her to this stupid concert, she had some liberties to exercise.
Later, though. When she was able to put about three blocks worth of distance between them after the fact.
Lucy's only warning that danger was impending was the brief moment when the hair on the back of her neck prickled and her ears started feeling fuzzy. She shoved her complimentary drink (a step down from the stuff served at the Konzern, much to both her and Erik's dismay) in the toxicologist's general direction a split second before Natsu barreled into her and sent the both of them toppling to the floor.
"Natsu!" Lucy snarled, catching herself in a push-up position just as her chin was about to do a very uncanny impersonation of a gymnast doing the splits. Her best friend rolled off her and grinned goofily as Gray strolled over with Laxus at his heels.
"If you injured yourself on University property, you could've come up with some plausible lawsuit to get them to cover your tuition," Laxus said in lieu of a proper greeting. Lucy eyed the ground thoughtfully. If she just 'happened' to turn a wet corner, in perfect view of a security camera…
"They'd throw that out in a heartbeat," Sorano drawled, sidling up beside Erik. "I should know, I interned with the University's lawyers back during law school."
Gray twitched. "Lawyer."
"What's he have against lawyers?" Erik muttered, offering her a hand up. Lucy rose and brushed herself off, all the while threading their fingers together. "His dad's a lawyer," she mumbled back. "And his dad sued the shit out of his foster mom a while back. She went super broke before she passed."
"How astute," Sorano said sweetly. "Lucy, you didn't tell me your friends had brain cells! And the ability to coordinate outfits. How very...2005." Razor sharp blue eyes fell on Gray, drinking him in. Gray didn't bristle like Laxus; no, he seemed quite content to tug at the top her wore and eye her up and down in a way that sent a shiver down her back. Lucy had a horrible feeling, then, one that she definitely did not want to pursue because the implication was too much for her to be dealing with while stone cold sober.
Natsu crossed his arms over his chest, which was covered in a red leather tube top, and nodded so vigorously his Santa hat almost fell off. "2004, actually, 'cause we're doin' the Mean Girls dance routine, so…"
Gray smacked the back of his head, and this time the hat did fall off. "She's insulting us, doofus."
"Gray," Laxus said. "Shirt. For fucks sake, it's leather, how did you manage to rip this one off?"
"Oh no," Sorano purred, running a perfectly manicured finger over her glossy lips. "Public indecency is something you can be fined and jailed for. Gray, was it? Come with me, I'll fix that outfit right up. I'm very good with my hands."
"They're not…" Lucy began.
"Gonna fuck in a closet? Most likely." Erik nodded. "Cover your stump before you hump!" he shouted after them, "And Sorano! It's been a while since you got any action, but remember that Plan B's best within 12 hours after the fucking!"
"Screw you!" she yelled back. "Or better yet, get your girlfriend to do it!"
"There will be no screwing here," Natsu said, positively scandalized. Lucy snorted. Rich coming from him. The amount of times she'd caught him and Yukino Aguira going at it in high school-
Aguira.
Oh.
"Say, Sorano's not got a sister, has she?" Lucy turned to Erik. She lifted her hand just short of her eyes. "About ye tall, bob-cut, name's Yukino and she's as cute as a button?"
"Yeah, why?"
Lucy stared at her best friend somberly. "You're fucked."
"Wh-oh." Erik's eye widened as understanding dawned on him. He stared at Natsu, mildly repulsed, eyeing him with a new kind of understanding. "You're Yukino's little...boytoy?"
"Wait!" Natsu screeched, pointing in the direction that his best friend had left. "That's Sorano?! And Gray's gonna fuck Sorano?! Oh, God, are we gonna be brother-in-laws? Laxus! Laxus, how does this work, you've got a super fucked family tree-!"
"I think the real question is, is Natsu going to be my brother-in-law?"
Though only a split second passed, Lucy's heart went still for a full ten minutes before her systems kicked into gear and it was racing. She knew that voice as well as her own. Hell, a full three hours last night had been devoted to watching all his post-Olympic interviews and some of his latest practice videos. Holy shit, holy shit, this was not happening right now. She'd been dreaming about this moment since his rookie days playing for the minor leagues, and this was not how it was supposed to go down. She was supposed to be in his jersey (bought from the official site, thankyouverymuch), paired with the tightest leggings she owned, donning her 'fuck me' pumps, makeup done to match his team colours perfectly, and with her hair pinned up in one of those super elaborate twists with the curls falling just right.
She was dressed for a fucking funeral and Lyon fucking Vastia was out here looking like a Greek God, not two feet away from her.
"Holy shit," she squeaked. "Lyon. Vastia. Lyon Vastia. Holy shit."
The family resemblance was far too obvious when he smiled at her. Both his and Gray's eyes crinkled in the exact same manner, right down to the number of lines in the corners, and his mouth pulled up mostly lopsided, a dead-ringer for Gray. She could've smacked herself for not realizing it sooner. She knew Lyon Vastia's blood type (thank you Wikipedia gods) but she couldn't pick this out sooner?
"You must be Lucy," Lyon said. "Gray's mentioned you a few times before. It's nice to finally meet you."
"I need a minute," she said faintly. Was it her or did the room get really fucking hot? Where was a seat when she needed one? Growing up, she swore up down and sideways that she would never swoon like some of the protagonists did in the classical romances she found in the library, but now? Now, an exception had to be made.
"While my girlfriend finishes fangirling-"
"They're not officially dating," Natsu offered (bless the boy), just as Lucy hissed, "I'm not fangirling."
"...right. I'm Dr Erik Vivas." He extended a hand and smiled in a way that both screamed 'I'm better than you' and 'I'm about to rob you blind in grant money, thanks for attending the gala'. Lyon took a step forward and took his hand, shaking it briefly.
Lucy wasn't totally blind now that the world had stopped spinning. She was no physiology expert but even she could see the tendons popping in both their hands as they held on tighter and tighter in some stupid 'game of wills' to see who would get go first.
Knowing them as well as she did, somebody would have to break at least three bones in their hand before they even started to loosen up, so she stomped on Erik's foot and wrangled Lyon's hand out of his, instead holding it between both of hers and pumping it up and down earnestly. "It is such an honour to meet you!" Lucy gushed. "I've been a huge fan all my life. Fiore should've totally won in the Olympics, by the way. My power went out so I couldn't watch the tying goal live, but I did review the footage after and Conbolt's goal did not get into the net. I played it frame-by-frame, like, come on, right? The tie was messy but you did totally crush it later on!"
"That's what I kept trying to tell the judges after, but…" Lyon shrugged. "What can you do. We'll kill Desierto next time."
"You so will!" Lucy exclaimed. Her free hand pressed against her cheek, absently checking her temperature. She was burning so she could only imagine how red her face was. She would never wash the hand Lyon was holding. Ever.
Erik slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "Hey, look, it's Macbeth. See you later, Vastia. Lucy-"
"You'll be attending the New Year's party Gray is hosting, right?" Lyon asked.
"Yup!"
"I'll see you both then," he said.
"I take it back," Lucy said dreamily, allowing Erik to steer her through the crowd. "Coming to this was the best idea ever."
"Oh, please," Erik grumbled.
"Are you jealous?"
"Of who? Vastia? Hell no."
"Uh-huh."
Macbeth peered around the side of the giant support beam he was hiding behind like a cornered cat, all wide eyed and tensed up.
"I'm gonna die," he hissed, looking more awake than Lucy had ever seen him. His hair was tame for once, no doubt Sorano's fine work, and held in a thick braid that ended exactly where the lapels of his sleek suit did. The only 'Midnight' touch to him was the lipstick, and even then it was a shade lighter than he normally wore. He looked so young without the rest of his regular getup that she had to double-take to make sure it was actually him.
"How many times have I told you to never say 'yes' around Sorano without somebody awake enough to filter her for you?" Erik lectured. Macbeth pinched his nose and nodded. Lucy had an inkling that he'd been on the receiving end of this more than once.
"Do you have any booze?" Macbeth turned to Lucy and stared at her chest pointedly. "They never pat them down for flasks. You must be packing."
The blonde crossed her arms and huffed in indignation. So maybe that was true, and maybe she knew it was true because she'd slipped in a mini bottle of Bacardi in her cleavage a couple times before and gotten away with it, but that so didn't give his emo ass the right to demand her alcohol. Her alcohol. She was broke! Booze was expensive! Mini Bacardi's were very expensive!
"For your information, not that you need to know, I'm not," she sniffed. "Erik might be, though."
"The professors probably have some shit they distilled in one of the labs," the toxicologist said. "Dunno which one, but we'll find it eventually."
"You have one hour."
"...right, we're gonna hafta go a step up, then."
"When you said 'step up', I thought you meant running to the nearest LCBO," Lucy said, borderline hysteric. "Not breaking into professor's offices! This is illegal!"
Erik dropped the broken pieces of her bobby-pin into his pocket and held his hand out for another. Lucy pulled out the one holding her bangs back and chucked it at his face. She ran her hands through the now loose hair and tugged anxiously. There were no functional security cameras in this particular hallway, mostly because the professors who holed up there found it annoying when the security guards made shitty memes out of their 3 AM zombie walks, so the chances of getting caught and tried in a court of law later on were slim to none. Unless, of course, somebody happened upon them and ratted them out; between her Scary Lucy routine and Erik's general existence, they had that issue covered, but the point remained that this was very illegal and Lucy had never broken a law in her life.
Except for that time when the lights had gone out and they broke into various rooms in the university looking for cooking supplies.
That explained the deja vu, then.
"Why is it that, whenever I'm with you-"
"Your heart skips a beat and you fall more madly in love with me?"
"No, that I wind up committing a crime. My heart mostly skips a beat because we're always ten seconds away from getting thrown in jail and that would look terrible on a transcript."
Erik let out a rather victorious 'hah!' when the lock clicked and the door to one Dr Porlyusica Dreyar's (holy shit, Laxus's...something taught here?) office swung open. It was messy, but neat messy. There were piles of paper everywhere, but they seemed to be organized in some weird colour code if the mugs stacked on top of them were any indication. One wall was chock full of framed certifications - she caught at least two doctorates hammered in there. Erik maneuvered the room like a champ, dodging mini-stacks on the ground without even looking where he was stepping. He stopped next to the gigantic bookshelf behind her desk and tilted his head, eyeing the third row critically.
"She taught you, didn't she?"
"Physical chem in my third year," he responded. "We hated each other, so obviously she took it on herself to become my master's and PhD supervisor. Stupid hag."
"Which would explain how you know where she hides her booze," Lucy said, nodding to herself. It made sense. While Mard wasn't one of her psych professors, she'd been to his office so often she knew where he hid his more exotic tea collection (in a hollowed out Greek copy of The Iliad).
"Who do you think spent most of his grad days restocking that shit?" Erik retorted, pulling out a textbook as thick as her head and flicking it open. He stuck his hand in the hole between 'Formation Constants' and something written in Greek script, patting around for a second. He replaced to book and moved on to his next target - 'Iron'. Lucy leaned her hip against Porlyusica's desk, careful to avoid disturbing anything.
"You must've spent a lot of time in here," she mused. "Any fun stories to share?"
"See the tick marks on the calendar there? That's how many times people have been caught necking it in here this month. When I was her minion, I kept track." Lucy snorted once she caught sight of his nauseated face. She didn't know who to feel more sorry for - Erik, who had to deal with that, or the poor fucks who got cockblocked by the most terrifying GA to walk the planet if Sorano was to be believed.
"You never had to give a tick for yourself?" Lucy asked. Erik craned his head back and grinned wickedly. "Why, Lucy, if you wanted to make out like a couple of horny teens in my ex-professor's office, all you had to do was ask."
"I absolutely do-" her sputters died out as he boxed her in against the desk. How in the hell had he moved so quickly? One of her hands drifted back a couple centimeters, pausing when they hit a stack. She couldn't move back; if she did, the pile of lab reports and the full mug of coffee would go careening off the desk.
She was effectively trapped, and she really didn't care.
"You absolutely do…?" he repeated, leaning in so close that she could taste the shitty energy drink he had bought at the gas station on his breath.
There were a million shades of purple that made up his eye, each one a wisp of nebula from a brilliant star. She wanted to badly to trace all the fine, sharp angles of his face - with her hands, her lips, her very being, so she could commit it to memory in the same way that breathing was. In and out. Expand and contract. Erik and Lucy. He bore in closer still, pinning her to the desk with his hips (oh, if that didn't send a thrill of something up her spine) and cupping the curve of her jaw delicately. "You absolutely do…"
"Want to," she whispered, settling her hands on his hips and sliding up, up, up until her elbows started digging into her own sides. "I really-" a brush of her lips against the corner of his "-really want to."
Everything was a blur of senses. The barest touches of the bows of their upper lips, his heart pounding so heavily that she could feel it down to his sixth ribs, stubble scoring her skin, surgeon steady hands tilting her head up, need running so deep that her skin prickled in desperation to get closer and closer. She was going to kill him if he didn't press in any further. Their lips were touching and she wanted (needed) him to do something before she burst right there and then.
"Not only do you have the audacity to break into my office, but you do it after you graduate to make out with some girl," Porlyusica groused. "Unbelievable."
Scratch that, Lucy was going to kill her, Laxus be damned. His family tree was so confusing that one missing member would be no skin off his back.
"I'll kill you," Erik declared rather blandly as he wrenched himself away from her.
What is it with you two and always getting interrupted like this? And they're always from his group of friends, too.
Oh, now you decide to speak up.
I was giving you two some privacy, sheesh!
"Why are you two here? There are empty labs to use for this." Lucy furrowed her brow as she took in Porlyusica's impressive six foot frame. The height, the sneer, the cold eyes...it all screamed Laxus, but the pink hair? That was way too Natsu.
"Are you related to Natsu Dragneel by any chance?" the psychology major blurted out before she could stop herself. Porlyusica, briefly taken aback, nodded. "He's a cousin's grandkid, why?"
"The pink hair had me thinking. That would make Laxus...Natsu's...third cousin?"
"Hell if I know. Or care. You, porcupine," Porlyusica barked, "You still haven't told me why you broke in."
"Where's the vodka? I checked all the regular books," Erik said, waving at the one he'd been eyeing before the not-kiss. The older doctor snorted, muttering about 'mini me's' as she pulled a copy of 'IUPAC' off the bottom shelf and held it out to him.
"Decided to change it since my GA is more interested in draining the supply than replenishing it," she sneered. "I expect you to pull your weight after. Now get out, you both stink. And porcupine! That sweater is ridiculous. Send me pictures later."
"Fuck you!" He hollered as he exited the office with a flask at his hip. "I'll fill this shit with water for interrupting, stupid old bat…"
The auditorium was jam packed and pitch black, for which Lucy was grateful. It meant that nobody could see her neon red face or Erik's fingers tracing some chemical sequence or another on the back of her neck.
Except, of course, Sorano.
"You two totally fucked," she giggled from beside Erik.
"The bat cockblocked me," he snapped. "And we weren't going to fuck. Not in that room, ugh. I think the sofa still has a pizza stain I left on it from my fourth year."
"Does she ever clean that place?"
"No. I saw a pile of midterms from my class. That was like, ten years ago." His fingers dragged down her spine just a little, and he started his ministrations all over again. The same loopy repetitive pattern. Idly, she followed the motions with her own hand against her thigh.
It took about fifteen cycles before she realized it was his name.
Trace yours on his? Inner Cana suggested.
Normally not a bad idea, but Macbeth's on now and I'm morally obligated to pay attention to that.
The curtains pulled back, drawing with them the chatter of the audience. Macbeth stood just behind the reach of the spotlight, illuminated enough that he could be seen, but not enough that she could make out any distinctive facial features. He placed a violin beneath his chin and held the bow aloft.
Then, he started to play.
Lucy had attended hundreds of concerts growing up. Sat in the Dress Circle and listened to the most elite musicians perform their craft; orchestras and soloists, young and old, prodigies and those who had bled for the opportunity to play. They were beautiful, there was no denying that, but she couldn't ever recall being so enraptured in a performance before.
Every chord Macbeth struck pulled on her from the inside, like his violin was the moon and her blood the churning tides. Her breath was controlled solely by the speed at which he played; it was as if every draw of the bow expanded and collapsed her lungs. He was the Pied Piper, and the only thing keeping her from walking to the stage was Erik's arm around her shoulders. Unable to break her trance, she could only observe him out of the corner of her eye.
He was proud. Smirking (because smiling would be so beyond him) like he usually did, but despite the dark, she could see the brief wobble to his lips. She wondered how many times he'd heard Macbeth play this song. How many hours they had spent as a group holed up in a room with Macbeth fumbling his way through a song on a violin as tall as he was. How long it had taken him to master his first tune and put on his first performance and buy an appropriately aged violin with his own money. From a private audience of four to a full concert hall, all in the blink of an eye.
"It's beautiful," Lucy whispered.
Erik tightened his grip in silent agreement.
"That was amazing!" Sorano wailed, smacking Macbeth with her damp handkerchief. "You morose bastard, you made me cry!"
Said morose bastard was eyeing the emergency exit longingly. If it weren't for the death clamp Sorano had on his person, Lucy had no doubt he would have booked it to weather the weather the second he spotted their rag-tag group coming to meet him backstage. They were the lesser of two evils, no doubt. It was either he deal with the emotional audience members who wanted his picture and autograph and future children, or one sobbing lawyer who would likely dye her hair black before ever thinking of having kids with him.
"She has emotions?" Macbeth said blankly. "Wow."
"It was a message of pure love!" Richard roared, scaring the shit out of a group of elves behind him.
"Dope as hell," Sawyer agreed. "I'm gonna need a full mixtape from you soon, dude."
"I'll buy a copy," Lucy said, "Hell, I'll even help you manage sales if you decide to go professional."
"Thanks, but this isn't something I'd ever turn into a career," Macbeth replied, "Way too many people to deal with. Not enough time to sleep."
"Because physics is a sleeper career," Erik scoffed. He extended his fist and bumped knuckles with him. "Lazy fucker. You just don't wanna deal with the spotlight."
Macbeth tapped his temple and shrugged. "I sleep and the math does itself."
"Which is probably why you failed half your math tests in middle school. 'Show your work' was a guideline for you," Sawyer laughed.
Lucy shook her head and watched the group squabble with a smile. Macbeth was a master of the annoyed facade, scowling and slouching, sighing often and rolling his eyes when appropriate. But even she couldn't miss the way he averted his gaze to keep himself from laughing at their gentle ribbing, or the fond tilt to his lips that vanished whenever anyone paid a little too much attention. Her hand slipped into her pocket and retrieved her phone. She swiped on the camera option on the lockscreen and raised the phone as discreetly as possible to take a picture of the scene. For posterity, she told herself. So they would always have this moment at the click of a button.
Macbeth's such a tsundere, no? Inner Cana cooed. Oh, I could just eat him up!
...wait, if you're a manifestation of my mind and you're gushing over Macbeth, does that mean I'm subconsciously attracted to him?
No. We can just appreciate a cutie when we see it.
"What's with the dazed look on your face?" Erik called. "Your dad send you an email again?"
"Even worse," she deadpanned, "The pharmacy says the antacid pills they owe me are on a backlog, so now I can't eat Flamin' Hot Cheetos for dinner."
"Dinner's on me," Richard declared, drawing those within reach - Macbeth, Sorano, and Sawyer- into a hug that pulled them off the ground. Erik pushed Lucy in front of him, a makeshift shield.
"Pub at 9?" Erik asked. "'Cause I gotta get a headstart on making the bat's booze."
Ah. That.
Chips from the vending machine it was, then.
"So how many hours does it take to do this?" Lucy asked. She sat perched on a lab bench, swinging her legs back and forth into the open coat locker. Two empty bags of All Dressed chips were on her left, and a pile of assorted flavours sat on her right. She pulled out a ketchup chip from the mini-bag in her hand and popped in her mouth, sighing contentedly. All she needed now was a bottle of VitaminWater to wash it all down and it was like she was back in the eleventh grade and studying for biology.
"Days," Erik corrected. "Takes about a week. I'm just gonna get the basic shit done now and then come back to do the rest later."
For some reason she always imagined it to be a much shorter process, especially given how much vodka (judging by the bag of potatoes in the locker beneath her) was consumed on a daily basis. Then again, the industrial vodka-making process probably had more complex machinery to speed up the process. How It's Made likely had an episode on it somewhere online.
"Need any help?" Lucy offered. She didn't have to look up from her selection of chips to know Erik's eyebrow had joined his hairline. There was no way he was going to let her touch whatever he was measuring out, but it was the thought that counted and all that.
Dorito's.
Nah, I'm feeling Hickory Sticks…
"Yeah, actually, you can help measure out the enzymes."
Lucy licked her fingers clean of chip dust and swore vengeance. Porlyusica wanted pictures of him in that ugly sweater and by the gods, she would be getting it.
A/N: 'Why do you avoid making them kiss' you scream 'stop doing this you bitch' you shout. I throw my hands up in the air sometimes screaming 'AYOOO I'M TERRIBLE AT ROMANCE AND CAN'T WRITE KISSES FOR SHIT SORRY' (don't own the OG song but Taio Cruz made an ANTHEM back in the day).
Remember how I said I would be rewriting Chaos Theory? 'Only a few lines, change the tense, it's all good' ok that was a lie. It's getting rewritten and the tense was changed, but I rewrote the first chapter and it's...effectively brand new. Like, once I start uploading (I won't delete the fic and upload anew, but I'll replace the first chapter, delete the second and third and then publish their rewrites) you're gonna hafta read it from the start. I'm pretty proud of it, no lie. For one, writing in present tense is much easier for me (and much more natural. I'm starting to forget how to use past tense wofisdkl) and for two, I like the tone better now. Before I start uploading (after 41 Days is over) you all should give it one final look just so you can see how far I've come in, like, three years.
ANYWAYS, I've rambled enough.
Wait, no I haven't. Shameless plug! CoLu week is in June! Check out the official CoLu tumblr (colu-coalition) for the dates and prompts. I hope to see a lot of participation this year 'cause y'all truly bring your A-game for this ship!
Hit that mf review button!
-Eien