Sunday evening still counts as weekend update :D Tryin' to keep it regular though; can't tell you guys enough how much I appreciate your reviews!

Hope you'll enjoy!

Jellal sighed from behind his scarf—it started to feel more common not to cover his face by now. No clouds formed despite the chill of the morning air. He puffed out another breath, satisfied with the result. Spring had come.

His steps were the sole ones to be heard once he turned a corner to head down their street. The paper bag in his arm rustled, leeks standing out, bouncing along. Apart from groceries, he had also stocked up on cleaning supplies, seeing as Meredy had used nearly all of them during their absence.

The girls had stayed all weekend. After evaluating the list of baby names, they had started heated discussions about child education, Lucy delivering most debating material with her father's neglecting ways of upbringing. Everyone else was an orphan after all.

Jellal had mostly listened, cooked in the background, or been included by Erza's constant 'Jellal and I will' when it came to the liberties and opportunities of growing up. He had not come very far with work, seeing as Erza would call for his approval, only to keep ranting right away. Eventually, he had resigned himself to sleep, going to bed.

He had awoken a proper sandwich. Erza had snuggled into his chest, soundly asleep for hours to come. Wendy had been hugging her mother figure from behind, Meredy in a similar position in Jellal's back. They had enjoyed themselves quite a lot when Erza's subconscious had registered the 'invader', sleeping on while battling the strange arms that would creep around her husband solely to tease her.

While the distraction had been nice, Jellal had felt Erza's level of stress rising during the week. It was not merely his transformation that still lingered, but a combination of those tribulations she had belittled the other day and the hormones he was guessing were confusing her. Erza had always been in control – if not of her environment, then of herself. This battle simmering inside her was taking its toll on her.

And on him, in turn.

Jellal still felt the tiredness of the past days in his bones. He was starting to suspect it being a permanent thing; his level of stress rising and falling with hers.

"Oh, young man," he was pulled out of his thoughts by an unfamiliar voice. Just about to pull out the key to the house, he turned instead. Up the few steps to the neighbouring house stood an old woman. Grey-haired, short but with a wrinkly, friendly smile, she beckoned him over. "If you could spare just a moment," she asked.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Jellal asked, following the gesture. It hit him like a punch in the face – or perhaps like a body against bricks, much like the one he had slammed into the wall back then. Her wall. He had never met the people living next door, but the guilt from having damaged their house had never left.

"Indeed," the old woman shuffled backwards to invite him in, "you see—"

"I'll pay for the repairs," Jellal heard himself blurt out, "of the wall," he added, commanding the hectic to subside from his voice. She blinked at him, then at the wall. The front one, which was spotless. Something then clicked, and her benevolent smile set back into place.

"Think nothing of it," she waved off. "However," she turned to head down the hall, so he followed after a moment of hesitation. The house was warm and cosy the moment he stepped in. There was carpet everywhere – rolled out on the floor, lining the stairs to the side, even adorning the side tables beneath vases and busts.

Jellal set down his groceries next to his shoes in the entrance, then tracked down his hostess by the continuous voice. It led him into a dining room. Snug and kept in hues of brown and green, the wooden wainscot partially disappeared behind cabinets of fine porcelain, a snug armchair and ancient, lacy curtains. Sure enough, there was a tapestry pinned to the wall, and even the back rests of the chairs each had their own crochet, miniature rugs.

"… dead for weeks now," the old lady was saying when Jellal reached her, "and we're both not very tall, you see," she pointed up at the dangling ceiling lamp. The bulb was unlit, but the shade caught his attention. It was made out of fine nacre. "He doesn't want to admit it – he was a roofer once after all – but he's not as stable on ladders as he used to be, and I'm afraid he might fall," she explained.

"Of course," Jellal nodded. He could see himself in her husband, as well as Erza – never admitting defeat, especially not of something they used to be capable of. If anyone forbid Erza to use a knife one day despite her sword expertise, she would go nuts.

Jellal felt the lightest of twists in his stomach when thinking this far ahead – he had never imagined himself old and frail; never wanted to think he would live that long anyways. That had changed since fully allowing Erza into his life, of course, but still… He shoved the notion aside, grabbing what he assumed to be the spare lightbulb from the table.

Not needing a ladder, he climbed a chair.

"It's a beautiful lamp," he complimented while unscrewing the old bulb. The old woman chuckled.

"It's been there for sixty years already," she said. Holding out her hands, she waited for him to drop the bulb. He did, then offered to give the top of the shade a wipe since he was already up there.

With another chuckle, bony feet shuffled away into the kitchen, retuning with a wet cloth.

"What a charming young man you are," she said once he was done cleaning the thick layer of dust. No more reasons for the old husband to climb and hurt himself, Jellal noted with content.

"Thank you, though I must remind you that I'm married," he said while screwing in the new light bulb. "This is actually the second time I've said that to an elderly person," he frowned to himself, earning himself an amused smile. She opened her mouth to reply as she flicked on the light, when nothing happened. His hands off the lamp as not to get zapped, Jellal frowned.

She turned the light back off, and he tried anew, then with a different, equally new bulb.

"Perhaps," Jellal absently said as he hopped off the chair, his finger drawing an imaginary line along the ceiling. It trailed down the wall until reaching the light switch. Pursing his lips in thought, he flicked it on and off again. Nothing. "Do you have another one for this room?" He asked.

The old woman went over to the arch that was the kitchen's entry, activating the switch there. The lamp turned on, the nacre shimmering in rainbow colours. She glanced at him, relieved just as much as puzzled.

"I presume this wasn't always here?" Jellal indicated a picture next to the door. A circular embroidery of a goose and flowers.

"I finished it only a fortnight ago," the old woman confirmed.

"Then you're lucky you didn't get shocked – the cable is severed," he carefully took the embroidery off its nail.

"Oh, I never touch the nail as soon as the tip is secure, because I know I will hammer myself – a silly habit, really,"

"That silly habit might have just saved your life," Jellal explained. He was glad to see that she had used a rubber mallet, too, advising her to stick to it. Thanks to Erza's mishap of shooting a hole through their bathroom wall, Jellal was able to show the path of the cable through the wall and ceiling, finally offering his leftover lustre terminal for repairs.

In return, he received an old professional's secret cleaning technique.

Slipping into his shoes, he picked up his enriched shopping bag in the entrance.

"Before I forget," he turned while she scuffled over to open the door for him, "for the future, it might be safer not to let just anyone into the house," he mildly advised. "They could misuse your trust."

"Why, you are no stranger to me," the old woman surprised him. "Ever since you moved in last year, you seemed like such a righteous young man," she smiled her cute old lady smile. Stunned for a second, Jellal was at a loss of words. "Is something wrong?" She asked, hand hovering over the handle.

He caught himself, not least due to realising how baffled he must have looked.

"I was just wondering if we were still taking about me," he sheepishly said. He honestly said. Damnit, Erza, Jellal thought to himself. She was really rubbing off on him – he had always tried to be honest with her; sort of a pact of respect towards his beloved, but he had never anticipated it to make him say the truth to other people. Unasked.

The old woman laughed, prompting him to scratch his nape awkwardly.

"Well, if ever you are in need of a helping hand, you're welcome to knock at our door," he offered when she opened the front door for him. The air felt a lot cooler than before, now that he had spent a while inside the cosily heated home of his neighbours. "Erza and I will be happy to help," he smiled.

"Erza Scarlet?" The elderly lady curiously asked. He confirmed with a nod. "Pardon my asking, but weren't you the number one bachelor of the Sorcerer Weekly's edition from 2 July X784?" She asked out of the blue. The number one…?

Jellal cringed when the memory kicked in. What an unhealthily arrogant ego he had had, his Thought Projection Siegrain complacently having agreed to the photo. Somehow though, despite the embarrassment he felt now, pride overweighed – the pride of looking back at such terrible flaws, and finding them to be no more. Not looking back to an immature childhood or past life of mistakes, but his own life. While still alive. Outliving his own horrible legacy by replacing it with a new one – being there and aware of how far he had come. Getting to enjoy the benefits.

"Yes," he finally, carefully said.

"I knew she married a celebrity," the old woman astonished him once again, then even more when starting to celebrate the bet she had apparently won against her husband. "You must know, there isn't a soul in Magnolia who doesn't know our Erza," she said. And she said it so affectionately, his shoulders eased.

"Don't hesitate to ask – she'll like being out of the house," he allayed knowingly. They were only in month six; he could imagine perfectly well how she was going to go insane with staying cooped up and out of danger towards the last weeks.

"I wouldn't dare interrupt her precious time with something insignificant such as my household, but I must say that I feel protected, knowing she lives here," the old woman smiled, having it returned. "And that she is kept safe and sound," her smile broadened. Jellal returned it, then frowned as he turned to leave.

What was it that made people have this much trust in him?

Erza roused from her dozing when the front door fell shut. Jellal, her mind started to comprehend. Jellal returning from shopping groceries. There was rustling of clothes, then of a bags, his steps fading down the hall. More quietly now, the susurration continued in the kitchen.

Get up, the inner voice ordered. Get up and help him unpack, she told herself. Her body did not respond, too sleepy and entirely too comfortable to follow the command. He had already gotten up and gone outside and bought them groceries – the least she could do was help sort them into their respective cupboards.

Before being able to kick herself again, Erza heard him return on silent feet. The bathroom door creaked, then not a moment later the hinges of the bedroom door as he pushed it further open. Peering in, he must have assessed her not to be asleep, because before she had opened her eyes, the mattress gave way in front of her. She bounced up and down with his weight having plunged down.

Opening her eyes, she was met with a broad grin.

"Good morning, my love," Jellal shuffled towards her. Erza found not only her lips but her heart smiling. Comfortable was no match for the warmth she felt when he was there, wrapped his arm around her and wiggled closer to rub his nose to hers. It was like adrenaline, yet softer, endorphins surging so much, she thought to feel them heat up her body from the inside.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to help you unpack," she apologised, voice small from the lack of use. Shaking his head, he only nudged her nose more. Retreating enough to gaze into her eyes, he gave a reassuring smile.

"I only put into the fridge what needed cooling," he admitted. Her smile regrew. She was glad that he gave himself a break when he needed one. At least listened to his own inner voice that was for once not reason, but preferred his wants over responsibility.

It was strange, Erza thought, the way she had preached duties and their immaculate, immediate execution for all her life, now actively hoping he would not act like what she had seen as right and respectable. How she was wishing he was not just mature, but balanced. Of course, taking a break had always been in her schedule – it was healthy after all – but teaching someone else to let loose made her realise just how perfectly fine it was not to be conscientious all the time.

Jellal coming back to cuddle her in bed was by far the best teacher.

"Do you think we'll ever get used to this?" He asked. "I mean, there will never be a time where we won't treasure us being together, but do you think it will become…"

"Normal?" She supplied. He hummed in agreement. Frowning her lips, she pondered on his question. "I am used to it, that much is certain," she said, enjoying the way he caressed the small of her back, "I expect it would be a better term, but at the same time, I still celebrate each moment as if it were the first," she returned his widening smile.

"Me too," Jellal drew her closer again. His hand on her back snuck beneath her shirt, tracing random patterns on her with warmth radiating skin. Inhaling his scent, closing her eyes to perceive as much of his loving ministrations as possible, she felt the urge to kiss him. Realising that she very well could, his cold long gone, Erza put her plan into action.

Needless to say, he did not get to work too much until noon.

Jellal trudged down the ladder, his feet feeling as heavy as his eyelids. He found Erza right where he had left her hours ago – in bed, and with one of those fairy tale books in her lap. He had to start reading them sometime too, he decided for himself. Still, work had been overwhelming for the past two weeks, but he had felt obliged to catch up.

Now that he had, there was but one case left. The tricky one Ambrose had shied away from. Understandably so, Jellal now found, fruitlessly breaking his head over it for the second day in a row.

He all but flopped down into bed. Erza closed her book, scooting over until sitting right beside her husband's face where he smothered it into a pillow. Her eyes softened, one hand coming up to weave through his hair.

"Are you alright, love?" She gently asked. With a deep exhale, Jellal nodded.

"Just," his voice was muffled, hardly intelligible, "taking a break," he said. She gave a hum in response.

Soon, he felt his muscles relaxing, body sinking into the inviting downiness of the sheets. The caress to his scalp was certainly playing a big role, his lids – despite being closed – growing heavier with every twisting of hair around slender fingers.

"I can't believe how you're this relaxed after how much tea you had," Erza broke the silence, amusement lacing her tone. Jellal gave a grumble at the reminder, luring out a giggle.

"That's on purpose," he turned his head to the side to be understood. "Keeps me from stretching my break," he sighed.

"Mm, don't torture yourself so," she mellowly said. "I'll wake you if you like," her hand wandered down his back, knuckles expertly running down to soothe any tensions along his spine. He would have liked to stay like that forever, letting out another long breath. She smiled to herself, repeating the action.

He thought for a heartbeat. Then he made her giggle again as he scurried into the bathroom, returning quickly only to drop back into the mattress. Relieved, Jellal could now feel the entirety of his body yearn for rest. His eyes shut the second his head met the pillow.

Erza shuffled closer again. A fond smile stretched across his lips when her belly touched his side, and when she wound her arms around him, he gladly replaced the pillow with her chest, nose brushing the hollow of her neck. She was radiating with a comforting warmth, her heartbeat sounding dully, rhythmically in his ear.

"When would you like me to wake you?" Erza asked. She leaned over towards the nightstand, and he suspected she was checking the time on her lacrima. The instant she returned, he went back to holding her to him just as tightly as she held him.

"Ten minutes," Jellal mumbled.

"It's twelve to five," she informed.

"Then at five," he complied. She smiled at that, placing a kiss on his crown.

She had only just resumed her ministrations of his hair when sleep found him easily. He had always been a light sleeper and an over-thinker, but powernaps when exhaustion gnawed was something he had mastered over the years of being on the run. Something he had considered useful in more than one way only recently – for when the baby was there.

"…caring, handsome, kind, gentle," Erza was enumerating when he awoke a few minutes later. She was still stroking his hair, having called him back from slumber in a most delightful way.

"Breaking the alphabetical order there," Jellal remarked, muffled again though this time due to her shirt. Erza snorted.

"You're awfully awake to analyse my order of praises," she shook her head above his. Then she pressed another kiss to his hair, hands moving down to his shoulders. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was," Jellal squeezed her gratefully, "and a little too deeply," he added. Detaching one arm, he rubbed his eyes. Just as he had so often done with her, Erza seized her chance, taking his hand away and leaning down to kiss his lids. Already close enough, she stole another peck from his lips.

"Good," she said, before he promptly returned the favour.

"At least I think I did," Jellal said as he sat up. "I must have dreamed – I can't get the word salmon out of my head…" he frowned to himself, making her laugh.

"It's a sign," Erza giggled. "Let's have salmon tonight; I'll go out shopping," she proposed.

"You just want to get more dessert ingredients," he accused. Hitting bull's eye, judging by the pout of her lower lip. "Ten items," he raised his brows, earning himself a wide smile, "not more."

"Deal," Erza grinned.

She was out of bed more quickly than he had hoped. Still, Jellal had to smile at her enthusiasm, waving back as she did so before closing the front door behind her. Letting out another sigh, he got up to climb back to the attic. To his desk.

Home office really was a blessing – a pity he would have to return to the Council anyway. And sometime soon.