Chapter Text
Freed Justine is largely ambivalent on babies.
Children, he likes well enough. He converses with them as if they’re small adults, engages with them in their interests, does his best to keep them safe and protected and ensure all their needs are met— but beyond the children of the guild, he has very little experience with them.
He has siblings, sure, but there’s only six years between him and his youngest sibling. It’s not exactly like Freed was helping to raise any of them, they had governesses and nannies (and nursemaids, when they were infants) for that. Their parents largely had little hand in raising them in the way Freed learned parents were supposed to when he left home, and the kind of communal raising that came with the existence of children of the members of Fairy Tail was entirely uncharted territory for him. There was so much… love, involved in it. Freed hadn’t known parents, much less entirely unrelated adults, were capable of that kind of love towards their children.
(Makarov, who had seen a foolhardy, lonely, lost little boy who had just gone through the greatest tragedy of his life thus far and was aching for it, and had decided that boy would ache no longer. A new family, full of love despite the mistakes he made, acceptance despite how he had hurt them, assurance that he did not need to continue to crawl through the desert on his knees, repenting.
Support, unending, even when they knew nothing. Even when what they didn’t know could have hurt them, even when the trials of Freed’s past could have dissolved Fairy Tail for good this time. A lost little boy, hungry for more than food, starving for more than knowledge, taken into the fold like one of their own, who would go on to become one of their own. Who would go on to protect them till his dying breath, expend every last ounce of magic in his body for them and do so smiling.)
All to say Freed had no fucking clue what to do with the infant he’d just been handed.
“…Um.” he said after a long pause, wetting his lips. His voice came out higher pitched than usual as he spoke again, questioning lilt more in the tone of panic. “Wendy?”
“Yes?” she looked up at him expectantly, hands clasped in front of her chest. She had never quite grown out of that big, baby-bird-eyed countenance, despite filling out into a more muscled and formidable shape at the (still fairly tender) age of nineteen.
“Why did you give me this baby?” Freed asked. The baby blinked up at him innocently, bundled into what was undoubtedly a blanket from someone’s cast-off pile. Freed wasn’t even sure if the infant was wearing clothes, much less a diaper, underneath the frayed and faded fabric.
The infant’s lips and fingertips were also a concerning shade of hypothermic purplish-blue tinted, even with the warm summer evening outside that Wendy had apparently found the baby in. Freed was not an accomplished healer by any means but Wendy surely had to know that was something worth a hospital trip, or at the very least a pulse of her healing magic. Surprisingly, she hadn’t seemed concerned when she dumped the bundle into Freed’s arms, merely a little apologetic (but not apologetic enough to keep from leveling her puppy-dog stare at him, damn his bleeding heart.)
“Well, you’re the de-facto guild master when Laxus isn’t here, and you’re also the best at, uh, regulatory magics? And….” she fiddled with her hands. Freed prompted her on with a nod of his head.
“‘And’?”
“And,” she cringed, “he’s had a lacrima implanted.”
Freed’s whole body went up in a shower of pins and needles. The notion of an implanted lacrima immediately made him think of Laxus, which immediately made him think of the man who had implanted the lightning Dragon Slayer lacrima in Laxus as a child, which immediately made him think of….
“Someone put a lacrima in this child, and you’re concerned it’s not something anyone else would be able to handle, yes?” Freed asked. Wendy nodded, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. Freed shifted the bundle of (eerily quiet) child into the crook of one elbow, feeling at the back of the baby’s neck for the tell-tale scar he knew from tracing the back of Laxus’ neck (and shoulders and back and—) with his fingertips.
Ah, there it was. Smaller and undoubtedly fresh to the touch, but there was no mistaking it. His fingertips came away cold, with the barest dusting of frost at the edges of the nail. The baby cringed at the prodding, lower lip wobbling. Freed hurried to bounce the baby (he would need a name eventually, he couldn’t just call him “the baby” forever— and there he went, already thinking of a future where this baby was in his life long enough to be named) dandling him in a way he had picked up from helping Levy and Gajeel with their triplets, and later Bisca and Alzack with their second child.
Fairy Tail would rather parent not at all if they couldn’t parent together, he had learned.
“Say, Wendy,” Freed said. “Do we know any ice Dragon Slayers?”
Turned out, ice Dragon Slayers were in short supply: as in, there were absolutely none of them that Wendy or Freed could locate much less think of off the top of their head. Of course, any Dragon Slayer would be able to assist with the raising of an orphaned one of their own to a certain degree, but each variety of Slayer was unique in their own regard. Laxus couldn’t teach Natsu how to use fire, nor could Natsu teach Gajeel to use iron or Gajeel teach Wendy to use air. There were other Dragon Slayers in the world of course, even some that Freed himself knew, but he wasn’t exactly looking to bring this issue to anyone outside the guild, much less anyone who was not a Dragon Slayer of Fairy Tail.
Gray, of course, was an obvious option, but his Ice Make was much different. Gray had learned his magic voluntarily. This infant didn’t have the option— there was no choice to be had when someone much more powerful than you decided to forcibly implant a lacrima in your body. There was no choice when the magic was outside of your control.
(Four teenagers, all of whom who had magic forcibly implanted in them against their will, against their choice, by the hand they were dealt by fate or by powers outside their control once they had entered the world.
Three with magic like a curse. One with magic like a parasite.
Strength came in numbers. Anything was better than being alone.)
So, really, Freed had no one to turn to aside from himself, another member of the Raijinshuu, another Dragon Slayer within the guild, or more specifically, Laxus. However….
Freed looked down at the infant slumbering in his arms. He hadn’t put him down (and Wendy had confirmed the baby was a boy, thankfully wearing a cloth diaper and a threadbare onesie underneath the blanket) since Wendy had put the baby into his arms. Frankly, he thought he might’ve been a little too shell-shocked to do so just yet.
He didn’t want to bring this to Laxus. He didn’t want to dredge up trauma Laxus still dealt with to this day, something that lurked constantly at the edges of his subconscious. Freed had met Ivan, as much as he would like to forget the experience. There was no forgetting a man like that, not when he had exerted his power to abuse a vulnerable child the way he had. Freed didn’t want to present Laxus with a child that was a mirror form of Laxus himself, abandoned on the stoop of their guild and unceremoniously dumped into Freed’s arms by another child that belonged to the guild.
But Laxus was Fairy Tail’s master. He had been for the past four years now. He was Freed’s master, Freed’s partner. His other half. The person with which Freed trusted the most fragile, fractured parts of his soul, the one whom Freed had looked in the eyes and placed the parts of himself he had dug out by hand, digging up the corrupted mandrake root of his family tree with his own bare hands even as his fingernails turned to bloody splinters.
And Laxus had accepted him, against all odds. Kept him, sheltered him, protected him. Would live and die by him. Loved him.
Bickslow and Evergreen were his oldest and dearest friends. Laxus was something more, always had been, even when Freed had challenged him to a fight in his own territory and solidly got his ass handed to him.
(To his credit, Laxus had also kicked the asses of Bickslow and Evergreen at the time. It was a group effort.)
Freed sighed. Laxus picked up his cellular lacrima on the second ring.
“Laxus.” Freed sighed out. There was an instant inhale and a shuffling of fabric on the other end, like Laxus had put his cellular lacrima between cheek and shoulder to hurry off somewhere more private. He was out of Magnolia on guild business, after all, another reason Freed hadn’t wanted to bother him with this.
“What’s wrong?”
(Something in Freed’s heart fluttered at the fact his husband had been able to tell something was wrong with just the way he’d said his name.)
Freed shuffled the baby around in his arms again. He’d sent Wendy out for provisions, as this was his fucking life now apparently, and she should have been returning soon. He desperately hoped the commotion of her return wouldn’t startle the baby into wakefulness. When Gajeel and Levy’s triplets were infants, Freed had the least amount of baby-handling skills he’d ever had. One of them crying was liable to set the other two off into a chain reaction of wailing infants that was sometimes almost enough to make Freed want to cry alongside them.
Children were overwhelming sometimes. Freed felt for all of the parents he knew, and not just because he was now responsible for a baby.
Or, more responsible than any given adult in Fairy Tail was when it came to the communal raising of children.
“I… there is a situation, at home.”
A grunt. “A ‘this requires the guild master’ situation or ‘Freed can handle this on his own’ situation?”
“I’m not sure yet, frankly.” Freed admitted. The sound of rapid footsteps on stairs heralded Wendy’s arrival, along with the rustle of paper bags and the general commotion that came whenever she hurried anywhere. The Raijinshuu lived in a three-floor building just a few minutes away on foot from the guild building, with each of the members taking up a different floor of their home. Freed and Laxus at the top, Evergreen and her partner Elfman in the middle, and Bickslow (and whoever had struck his fancy most recently) on the ground floor. It had only made the most sense, given the original four of them had lived in the same overcrowded cottage till Makarov retired. Makarov now lived in the cottage that had previously been theirs, just a few blocks down from the building the Raijinshuu had renovated for themselves.
It was a good set up for them. They were in easy reach should Makarov ever need them, considering he refused assistance even into his older and older age, and the Raijinshuu (and honorary member Elfman) had their own spaces while still being connected to each other, just a flight of stairs away. The short distance to the guild building itself and the attached Fairy Hills dorms meant their home was always open to anyone who needed a place to stay but didn’t feel safe enough in the guild building or dorms proper. There had been many nights where new members running from dangerous pasts had taken up residence in Freed and Laxus’ guest room, or teenage members who refused to take handouts but still needed a safety net slept on Bickslow’s couch.
“Freed!” Wendy chirped, shedding her sandals and unceremoniously dumping her shopping bags in the kitchen. “I got everything you asked for!”
Freed motioned for her to be quiet. Wendy slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes even wider than usual, nodding.
Laxus’ inquisitive noise crackled through the cell’s speakers. “Is that Wendy?”
“Yes, she’s helping me with the, uh, situation.”
“Are you gonna actually tell me what’s happening or am I gonna have to guess? You know ‘Cryptic Freed’ is my favorite game.”
“I am not cryptic—“
“Then tell me what’s goin’ on, babe!”
“I—“ Freed nudged his cell between cheek and shoulder for the sole purpose of rubbing irately at his temples. “We are now responsible for a child.”
“Like, a new guild member child? What about that is a situation worth callin’ for? Not that I don’t love to hear your voice. These old coots are really gratin’ on my last nerve.”
“Don’t try to flirt your way out of this. I’m cross with you.”
“Sure you are.”
“Laxus.” Freed paused, sighing. “Listen. It’s very complicated, and I’m truthfully very stressed, and I miss you very much and I don’t know what to do—“
“I’ll be back home in a few hours.”
“Laxus-!”
“There’s nothin’ gonna happen here that I don’t already know about. Sting can keep ‘em under control for me.” Wind whistled past the speakers from Laxus’ end, with the rustle of fabric and the telltale click of his thick-soled boots that meant he was rushing somewhere. (He would say he was simply walking with intent, but there was a distinct difference between his worried rush and him moving with slightly more purpose than his usual prideful amble.)
Freed laughed under his breath. “I’m surprised you trust him with that.”
“It’s funniest when I do, frankly.”
Freed took a beat. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, when you do get home.”
“Hey,” Laxus offered, “whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. Me and you and the family, okay?”
A small smile managed to worm its way across Freed’s face, despite the circumstances. “Okay.”
“Love you.”
“I love you. Be safe.”
The call ended with a click. Freed lowered his cellular lacrima, only to see Wendy peering over the kitchen island with that funny little bird-like grin on her face. He squinted.
“What do you think you’re looking at?”
“Nothing, nothing!” Wendy chirped. “Nothing at all.”
_____
When Laxus came home that evening, it was to Gajeel putting together a crib.
More specifically, it was to Gajeel putting together a crib, Levy and Wendy sorting through the triplets’ old baby clothes on the living room floor, and Freed wearing a baby on his chest.
“Well.” Laxus dropped his bag inside the door, hands still shaking ever so slightly with the disorienting fatigue of motion sickness that came whenever he traveled. Traveling without Freed was always rough, not having the runic mage around to magic him into unconsciousness or at the very least write a spell that would reduce his motion sickness. If all else failed, resting his head in his husband’s lap and getting his scalp scratched by Freed’s deft fingertips was always a balm to the wound that was vehicular transport. “Seems like we’re havin’ a party.”
“Laxus!” Freed and Wendy immediately exclaimed in unison. Wendy popped up from where she sat splay-legged on the living room rug and Freed’s dark eyes brightened, visible eye widening in delight and that familiar content, cat-like curl curving into the corner of his pretty mouth. Levy smiled and waved. Gajeel just grunted, screws sticking out of his mouth. Laxus wondered how much of his impulse control it was taking to not eat them like he usually would.
“Hey, babe.” Laxus said, pressing a kiss to the top of Freed’s head over the back of the couch. Freed caught him by the lapel for a real kiss, chaste as it was. “You weren’t kiddin’ about the kid, huh?”
Freed scoffed, going to cross his arms and finding a baby in the way instead. He settled for patting the baby’s bottom comfortingly. “I would never joke about something like that.”
“I found a baby on the doorstep of the guild earlier today, and I didn’t know what to do with him— it’s a boy, by the way— and so I brought him to Freed because he’s pretty much guild master when you’re not here, Laxus, I hope that was okay, and—“ Wendy babbled, worrying the cloth diaper she had been holding between her hands in time with her anxious chatter. Laxus flicked her on the forehead, reclining back on the couch next to his husband.
“Relax, kid. You made the right decision.” he affirmed. Wendy brightened, and went back to happily sorting baby clothes with Levy, who grinned at him conspiratorially.
“Could stand to help me build this, yanno.” Gajeel grunted, screwing another crib leg into place. Laxus groaned, head falling to rest on the back of the couch. Freed patted his arm comfortingly.
“I just got back from guild business, Gajeel—“
A snort. “Bullshit, I know you let Sting handle that shit and only step in when it stops being funny an’ starts being dangerous.”
“—And I just got off a several hour train ride, alright? Can’t a guy catch a break? At least fill me in on the situation first.”
The other occupants of the room exchanged a look. Laxus felt a nervous chill start to run up his spine. “What?”
“Laxus….” Freed turned to face him, one hand on the baby’s back and the other on his husband’s chest. “There’s a very specific reason you and I are the only two that can adequately take care of this child.”
Laxus nodded. “Go on.”
Freed inhaled deeply, as if preparing himself for a blow. “He’s an Ice Dragon Slayer.”
“Okay…?” A quirk of a scarred brow. “Haven’t met one before, but it’s nothin’ we can’t figure out. Lose his dragon?”
Freed’s grip on his chest tightened, manicured nails pressing into the skin through the thin fabric of Laxus’s shirt. “He never had one. He’s an artificial Dragon Slayer, Laxus. He had a lacrima implanted, just like you.”
Laxus paled. He exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.
The room had fallen into silence, every eye poised on him, waiting for his reaction. Laxus inhaled again. Forced a smile.
He rested a hand over the one Freed still gripped his chest with, giving his husband’s smaller, finer hand a squeeze. Freed’s long, aristocratic fingers slotted easily into his, their pinkies twining together where Laxus’ was crooked from an old fistfight and Freed’s splayed outward with an oddly placed callus from years of expertly handling his rapier. Freed’s anxious exterior began to melt, and through it Laxus could see the very real exhaustion on his face, from the deep purple of his eye bags to the tired set of his pretty mouth, dark eye still bright and warm despite it.
Laxus pressed a kiss to his husband’s scarred knuckles. Freed leaned into him, fitting perfectly the way he always did. Even the littlest of romantic gestures had always made him melt. (The slumbering baby on his chest was doing some very real things to Laxus’ heart, he couldn’t lie.)
Laxus (gently, so gently, these rough sinner’s hands were still learning to be gentle) brushed a whisper-fine strand of hair off the baby’s forehead. His rosy cheek was squished against Freed’s chest, tiny pink mouth ever so slightly open for it. “Little guy got a name yet?”
“He didn’t come with one that we know of.” Freed admitted. Laxus hummed, the rumbling starting of a dragon’s purr deep in his chest.
The baby’s eyes slowly opened, long, pale lashes fluttering on rosy, plump little cheeks, revealing eyes as clear and bright as glacier ice, eyes such a pale blue they were almost white. Laxus’ fingertips came away from the baby’s hair dusted in a fine layer of frost, creeping up around the beds of his fingernails even as the baby seemed unbothered by the cold his skin emitted. His lips were less so pink than a hypothermic kind of purple tinted, tiny little fingers gone shades of cyan and lilac where he reached out to grab at one of Laxus’ much larger, rougher fingers. Frost continued to spread along Laxus’ hand, like dew freezing over in a particularly cold morning; noticeable, but only to a degree that was more annoying than anything. Laxus gently squeezed the baby’s fingers where they held him in the crook of his own.
“We can workshop it, but how about Cauylin?”
Freed leaned more solidly into his side, taking Laxus’ hand into his own again. He spun the silver wedding band on Laxus’ ring finger, the one that matched the gold band on his own left hand. “I like it.”
“Cauylin,” Levy hummed, folding a powder blue onesie in her lap. “Meaning ‘pure’.”