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Laxus huffed a sigh of relief as he closed the door on the din rising from the guildhall below, reasonably sure that at least two more brawls had broken out, in the wake of the one that he had just put an end to. I am getting far too old for this, he thought, feeling closer and closer to Makarov by the day. That he could still take on most of them, was about the only reason he hadn’t retired just yet, despite Wendy’s more frequent insistence that he start to think about doing so. Apparently, deciding that her role as guild healer meant that she had to emulate Porlyusica in more way than one. And he knew that part of his refusal was because he didn’t appreciate the insulation – or outright claims that he was too old to be riding herd on the rest of the guild anymore. Choosing to ignore the fact that he had just called himself old, or that his hair was completely silver now, aches and pains that hadn’t existed just a year or two before now a constant companion.
“Maybe, I am getting too old for this,” he muttered. “But retirement?” He rolled the word around in his mouth, trying to imagine it in conjecture with himself and struggling. “Was this how the old man felt? Or maybe I’m just too stubborn…”
“Both.” He didn’t jolt at the sleepy voice, having known that his mate was in the office waiting for him. A slow smile appearing as he turned to look across at Freed, who was struggling to push himself upright on the couch in front of the fireplace, feeling the amusement and weariness in the bond.
“Did you have to wake up just to tease me?” He asked, moving across to Freed. Smile fading a little as he saw the pain in his mate’s face as he made it upright, feeling the echo of it through the bond. Not the sharpness of a wound, but the dull, constant ache brought on by age and wear and tear. He pushed warmth through the bond, sliding into place as best as he could to shield Freed from the discomfort, ignoring the quiet protest with the ease of long years spent doing the same.
“Yes…” Freed breathed, and it took Laxus a moment to remember the question that he asked, and despite Freed’s pain and his worry, he snorted.
“Of course,” he murmured. Pausing to lean over the back of the sofa to press a kiss to the top of Freed’s head. Finding the stubborn streak of green that refused to fade and kissing that too before circling around to the front of the sofa. “Bad day?” He asked, making sure to meet Freed’s gaze and hold it. He would sense the lie anyway, could feel the pain, and yet his mate could rival him for stubbornness even now and would try and play it off as nothing just to spare Laxus some of the worry. Turquoise eyes met his, and he could see the lie building, practically hear the ‘I’m fine’ through the humming bond, and then Freed’s shoulders slumped, and he nodded, reluctance in every movement. “Shift over,” Laxus ordered, waiting patiently for Freed to shuffle aside to make room for him, taking the time to delve into the bond, searching for the worst of the pain.
Shoulder. Wrists… everywhere.
Part of him wanted to fetch Wendy, but he knew that Freed wouldn’t want the fuss, and besides the younger Dragon-slayer had already admitted that there was little she could do but ease the pain, and Laxus had his own methods for that. Unfortunately, neither of them had the power to turn back the tide of old age, no way to banish the effects of time and a life lived to its fullest.
Fingers curled loosely around his, stiff and awkward in places, but there was still an understated strength in that grasp, and he looked up again to find Freed looking at him, smiling despite his discomfort. One of those rare ones that stole away the years, and lit up his eyes, and still threatened to take Laxus’ breath away. Seeing that he was looking, Freed reached out with his other hand, briefly tracing the lines and wrinkles that had carved their home in Laxus’ face through laughter and life, heartache and wonder, before cupping his cheek.
There was a pause, a breath taken in unison, and then the bond came to life.
Not bright and brilliant and overwhelming as it had been in the beginning. This was softer, gentler and more intimate. Laxus gave way to the gentle pressure, reluctantly allowing Freed to push him back. To slip out from under the shielding influence and for a moment there was just pain, the kind that runs bone-deep and slowly eats away at your strength and the fingers against his face twitched and then relaxed as Freed pushed that away too. Locking away behind stubbornness, and Laxus ached to help, to take it from him, but instead he reached up to rest his free hand over Freed’s, squeezing in gentle encouragement and reassurance that he was there with him.
Laxus…
His name was a whisper in the bond, and Laxus closed his eyes. There were days like today when Freed preferred to communicate through the bond, days when it was easier on him to sink into the connection that they had built over so many years than try to find the words. A lifetime spent bound together in a way that few others could understand, meaning that in this space between them, they didn’t need words. Even his name was more here, a storm on the horizon, fleeting images of lightning and dark skies, and blue eyes, and such a strong feeling of safety, of home, that it took the Dragon-slayer’s breath away because this was how his mate saw him.
Freed, he replied in kind, leaning into the touch on his face. How could he sum up his mate? The feeling that rose whenever he was near this man. That feeling of falling in love all over again when he was rewarded with a proper smile? The memories, a lifetime of knowing that Freed was at his side, that he had his back, a shield and a sword. Amusement coloured the bond again, and he opened his eyes, to see that Freed was smiling at him again, eyes a little too bright, and he coloured – blushing as only this man could make him, as he realised that he had. But it wasn’t enough, not for the feeling flooding his chest as he held Freed’s gaze, as he felt the waning strength in the fingers holding him.
I love you.
He honestly wasn’t sure which of them had thought it first, knowing that it hadn’t been a singular thought, that there had been no words. But there was no mistaking the feeling in the bond, the warmth that blazed hotter than Natsu’s flames, brighter than the sun and moon together. It was the brilliance of lightning against a dark sky, of runes standing bright and strong against danger. It was the quiet moments and gentle touches. It was Laxus. It was Freed. It was the Dragon in his chest rumbling with age-old contentment, and the slow acknowledgement that time was slipping away, sands running against the glass. It was the Rune Mage, leaning into him, pain darkening the edge of the bond, but as stubborn and strong in his own way as he had always been.
I can’t lose him, not yet…
That thought was his own, and it cut through everything else with the speed and power of the sword that now spent most of its time stored carefully in a drawer in the bedroom. The bond sang with it, a desperate keening plea that Laxus couldn’t take back, couldn’t hide. Freed didn’t flinch away from it, he never had, and there was only the slightest tremor in the fingers against his cheek that betrayed that he felt the same, that he sensed the same press of inevitably.
“I’m sorry,” Laxus whispered, capturing that hand, tilting his head so that he could kiss it. They’d had an unspoken agreement not to give voice to the truth of it, even though it was there in the quiet moments now, in the ways that Laxus would wake in a panic in the middle of the night to check on Freed. On the way that Freed watched him, solemn and quiet in a way that he hadn’t been since his doubts about the Battle of Fairy Tail. It was written in the way they stole every moment together they could these days, trying to fit in as much as they could. Freed shook his head, denying the apology, leaning forward and resting his head against Laxus, just breathing.
In and out, still alive, still here…
Fleeting, flickering images in the bond once more. Their hands tangled together, Freed’s head resting on Laxus’ chest as they spent longer and longer in bed each morning, lingering kisses that held all the sweetness of their first kiss from long ago. Tender moments. Quiet moments. A promise written into the images. Not yet. His mate’s quiet, understated way of telling him that they still had time, that he wasn’t going anywhere just yet, and Laxus loved him even more at that moment.
They rested like that for a few minutes, just existing. Breathing together, the bond brightening again because despite everything Laxus couldn’t help but be buoyed by Freed’s reassurances, the promise in those images.
Not yet…
It was enough for now, it had to be…
Eventually, though he couldn’t ignore the pain in the bond, and he sat back, smiling as he felt more than heard the protest. Kissing Freed’s hand again before releasing it and pushing himself upright – which took more effort than he cared to admit as he was getting a little too old for crouching like that – and moving to settle on the couch beside his mate.
Humming in unison with his draconic side, when Freed immediately shifted towards him like a moth drawn to a light, choosing to ignore the knowing look his partner gave him and instead reaching for his right hand and drawing it into his lap. Feeling the flare of agony at the moment and soothing it as best as he could through the bond, even as his fingers fell into familiar motions as he set to work massaging Freed’s wrist. He had long since memorised the most painful spots, and how to ease what he could, and he let his thoughts drift a little, losing himself in the warmth of Freed leaning into his side, his mate’s scent, and the peaceful feeling bleeding back into the bond from both of them, and it was almost a shock when Freed spoke.
“So…retirement?” Freed was still resting against him, head on his shoulder as Laxus worked and it was only his sharp hearing, undimmed by age that let him catch the softly spoken words.
“I think about it sometimes,” Laxus admitted after a moment. More and more often, in fact, he thought, glancing at Freed, whose gaze was fixed on the fire. Sometimes, he wondered how many precious moments he was losing because of paperwork and dealing with the chaos of the guild, and yet at the same time, it was Fairy Tail that had brought them together. And it had been Freed, quiet and firm at his side who had allowed him to step into Makarov’s shoes when the time came, refusing to let him doubt or hesitate, but listening and supporting. “And Wendy has been nagging me again…” Now that he thought about it, maybe she had the right of it, after all, she was a Dragon-slayer too and had a mate of her own, maybe she had seen the strain and worry he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit to and had been trying to help in her own way. “It’s not as though we have any shortage of people who could step into my shoes.”
Freed hummed, sounding unconvinced as he looked away from the fire and caught Laxus’ gaze, tired but focused. “But what do you want?” Laxus blinked, not quite sure why he was surprised, as Freed had always been the one to ask what he wanted. It had started long before they’d become mates, but had only grown more pronounced as his wonderful, stubborn mate pushed back against the expectations on Dragons and Dragon-slayers with mates. “You love this guild.”
“I do.” Laxus looked down, focusing on the massage for a moment, running his finger over a thin scar. A permanent reminder of the day he had been forced to realise that as angry as he was - as much as pretended to hate it – that he loved Fairy Tail. That it was part of him. It still was. The guild was his family, his friends… and Freed. Freed were his life, his heart and his soul. “And I always will.” He couldn’t imagine life without the guild, knowing that he would be part of it until long after he’d taken his last breath. But he could imagine life without Freed, was confronted with it more and more often in his nightmares, and he took a deep breath, pausing the massage and taking Freed’s hand gently between both of his. “But, I think maybe it is time for me to step aside.” To seize hold of those precious moments, that promise of not yet…
“Laxus…”
“I want this,” Laxus cut across the soft protest, knowing that Freed would never allow him to give it up just for him, even though the Dragon-slayer would have done it in a heartbeat. He let Freed feel the truth in his words, let it fill the bond. “You asked me what I want,” he pointed out, feeling the lingering doubt, the worry that this was because of Freed and his weakness – his draconic side growling as it picked up on Freed’s thoughts, but Laxus let it go, for now, focusing on convincing him. “And what I want is those moments that you showed me,” he squeezed Freed’s hand. “As many as them as we can have.” Even if I have to steal them from time herself…