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The first snow of the season never fell in Magnolia the way people expected it to.
It didn’t drift down politely like a storybook scene, all soft flakes and quiet wonder. It came in bursts, blown sideways by sharp wind off the river, collecting in stubborn corners and turning the streets into a slushy obstacle course before anyone had time to romanticise it. The guild’s front steps were already wet with muddy footprints and half-melted snow where members had tracked it in without thinking.
Inside, Fairy Tail looked like Fairy Tail always looked in winter: loud, crowded, warm enough to fog the windows, and chaotic in the specific way only a building full of people who considered “normal” a suggestion could manage.
Erza had declared, without debate, that the guild would be “properly decorated” this year.
That meant garlands over beams, paper stars hanging at different heights, ribbons tied around chair legs, and an entire corner of the hall reorganised into what Erza called a “winter display” and what everyone else quietly thought of as “Erza’s seasonal shrine.” There were candles. There were ornaments. There was, somehow, a small tree that had arrived without anyone remembering carrying it in.
Happy didn’t mind. He liked winter.
Winter meant hot food, warm fires, and Natsu complaining that it was cold enough to be “illegal,” which Happy found hilarious every single time. Winter also meant everyone was busier than usual and, for Happy personally, that was good, because busy people didn’t pay attention when an Exceed hovered near someone for longer than necessary.
Happy floated near the ceiling beam above the main bar, pretending to examine the ribbon tied there. He wasn’t. He’d already counted the loops in it. Twice.
He was watching Carla.
Carla sat with Wendy near the windows, ears flicking every time a gust of wind rattled the glass. She was facing Wendy, listening, nodding with her usual poised patience, but her gaze kept drifting, not to the snow outside, not to the guild bustle, toward the centre of the hall where Happy hovered.
Every time their eyes met, Carla looked away first.
Happy’s chest did something annoying when she did that.
He shifted his weight in the air, wings fluttering quietly. “She’s acting weird,” he muttered to himself.
Natsu, sprawled in a chair beneath him with a plate of food balanced on his knees, didn’t look up. “Who?”
Happy blinked, too late realising he’d spoken aloud. “No one.”
“Happy,” Lucy called from across the hall, “if you’re hovering over my head so you can drop something on me again, I swear-”
“I’m not!” Happy said quickly, then paused, then lowered his voice. “I’m… just… checking the decorations.”
Lucy’s stare was long and suspicious.
“You’ve never checked decorations in your life.”
Happy forced a laugh that sounded like someone pretending they weren’t hiding a secret. “New year, new Happy!”
Natsu snorted. “Yeah right.”
Happy drifted away before anyone could ask more questions, wings beating with slightly more force than necessary. He aimed for the safest place in the guild: the edge of the ceiling near the door, where people didn’t look unless they were leaving.
That was where the new decoration hung.
A sprig of mistletoe. Happy stared at it.
He’d seen mistletoe before. He wasn’t ignorant, Lucy had explained it last year when she’d dragged Natsu under it for a joke and Natsu had reacted like the plant was a hostile species. Happy had laughed. Carla had rolled her eyes.
Now, with the mistletoe hanging there like a quiet threat to his composure,
Happy didn’t laugh at all. He swallowed.
Because he’d kissed Carla yesterday.
Not on the lips. Not dramatically. Not the sort of kiss that made the guild scream and Erza demand a formal explanation. Just… Just a cheek kiss.
Carla’s cheek kiss..And it had been… everything.
Happy couldn’t stop replaying it, the quick touch, the warmth of it, the way Carla’s expression had been flustered for half a second before she locked it back down into poise. He hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t asked. She’d done it because she wanted to, because in that quiet moment she’d chosen him.
It made him feel… chosen. It made him feel like he’d swallowed a small sun.
It also made him terrified that if he said the wrong thing, it would vanish.
So he said nothing. And he hovered.
And he watched Carla try to pretend nothing had happened. Carla was good at pretending. She was less good at hiding the fact that she didn’t want to pretend.
Happy lowered himself and drifted closer to the windows, careful to keep his distance. Wendy was talking, cheerful and bright, describing the way the snow smelled in Magnolia compared to the snow in the mountains. Carla nodded politely.
When Wendy paused, Carla murmured something, Happy couldn’t hear it over the guild noise, but Wendy’s face lit up with a smile so sweet it made Happy’s stomach twist.
Not because Wendy was doing anything wrong. Wendy was Wendy.
Because Happy suddenly realised what it felt like, in his chest, when Carla looked at someone else the way she sometimes looked at him.
It wasn’t anger. It was something small and sharp and embarrassing. Jealousy.
Happy blinked rapidly, mortified by his own brain. “No,” he told himself. “That’s stupid. Carla loves Wendy. Like family.”
But his feelings didn’t care about logic.
Carla didn’t look at Wendy the same way she looked at Happy.
Happy knew that.
He also knew he’d spent years wanting Carla’s attention. Now he had it. And he didn’t know what to do with it without crushing it. He hovered lower, closer, close enough that Carla’s ears flicked in his direction. She didn’t turn.
Happy’s mouth went dry.
“Carla,” he said quietly.
Wendy looked up. “Oh! Happy, hi!”
Happy smiled at Wendy automatically.
“Hi, Wendy.”
Carla finally turned her head. Her eyes met his for a heartbeat, then shifted away again. Her expression was composed, but her tail had gone slightly rigid behind her.
“Happy,” she acknowledged.
That single word, his name, in her voice, still did something unfair to him.
He forced himself not to grin like an idiot. “Um… you’re… you’re sitting in the cold draft.”
Wendy blinked. “It’s warm in here.”
Happy nodded too quickly. “Yeah. But… the window… draft… you know.”
Carla’s gaze sharpened. “Are you attempting to tell me where to sit?”
Happy panicked. “No! I mean- no. I just-”
He stopped. He didn’t want to do this here, in front of Wendy. He didn’t want Carla to feel watched. He didn’t want… He hovered back an inch. “Never mind. Forget it.”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “Happy.”
He flinched at the edge in her voice.
“What?”
“You have been… odd.”
Happy laughed, too bright. “Me? Odd?
Never.”
Carla didn’t smile.
Wendy’s eyes flicked between them, uncertain. “Did I… interrupt something?”
“No,” Happy said immediately.
“Yes,” Carla said at the same time. They both froze. Carla’s ears went pink.
Happy felt his face heat up and wanted to fling himself into the snow outside.
Wendy, bless her, immediately pretended not to notice. “Oh! Um, Carla, I need to go help Erza with the, um- candles. Happy, don’t steal food.” She stood and hurried away.
The moment she was gone, Carla’s composure tightened like a wire.
Happy swallowed. “I didn’t mean-”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “Then what did you mean?”
Happy didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t know how to act around her now. That he wanted to hover close and also wanted to run away. That he was terrified of ruining something he didn’t fully understand but desperately wanted to keep.
He tried honesty, because honesty was the only thing that ever worked with Carla.
“I keep thinking about it.”
Carla’s breath caught.
Happy rushed on, voice soft. “Not… not in a weird way. Just, your kiss. Yesterday. And now everything feels… different.”
Carla looked away, jaw tight.
Happy’s chest sank. There it was. He’d said too much.
He forced himself to back off, to give her space. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just… I don’t want to mess it up.”
Carla’s ears flicked in his direction.
“Mess what up?”
Happy hesitated. He didn’t have the courage to say us out loud. Before he could answer, a loud crash came from the centre of the hall where Gray had knocked into Erza’s “winter display.”
Erza’s voice rose like an approaching storm.
The moment broke. Carla seized it.
“I need to go,” she said, too quickly.
“Wendy will require my assistance.”
Happy’s heart sank. “Carla-”
She paused, looked back, and for one brief second her eyes softened. Then she folded it away again and walked off.
Happy hovered in place, feeling like someone had scooped the warmth out of his chest and replaced it with cold air.
Panther Lily noticed the problem before it became a disaster.
He had been observing from his usual spot near the back, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, pretending he wasn’t paying attention to the guild’s seasonal insanity. He’d seen happy couples form and fracture in Fairy Tail with the same predictability as Natsu starting fights.
People were loud about their feelings here. They didn’t hide them. They didn’t apologise for them. Carla and Happy were doing the opposite. They were stepping around each other like a battlefield. Lily watched Carla move with too much rigidity, watched Happy hover in a restless pattern that was not normal even by his standards.
He exhaled slowly. This was what happened when two people who cared deeply were also terrified.
It was familiar. And it was fixable, if someone forced them to stop circling.
The jealousy escalation came, unfortunately, from the one person Happy couldn’t bring himself to resent.
Lisanna.
It happened later that evening, when the guild’s mood had lifted again, Erza’s wrath soothed by the fact that Gray had apologised and offered to rebuild the entire display personally.
Happy had been hovering near the bar, trying not to look like he was watching the door for Carla. He told himself he wasn’t. His eyes didn’t listen.
Lisanna approached with her easy smile. “Happy!”
Happy startled. “Ah! Lisanna!”
She laughed softly. “You’re jumpy today.”
Happy rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”
Lisanna’s gaze flicked over him with a knowing gentleness that made Happy feel like a child caught trying to hide a broken vase. “You don’t look fine. Want to talk?”
Happy hesitated. Lisanna was kind. Lisanna was safe. Lisanna knew what it was like to love people fiercely. She might… Before he could decide, Lisanna reached up and brushed a piece of ribbon out of his fur. “You’ve got decoration fluff on you.”
Happy froze.
It was innocent. Casual. Nothing.
But across the hall, Carla saw it.
Happy didn’t notice Carla at first. He noticed the way the air changed, Carla’s presence had a way of making the room feel sharper. He turned..Carla stood near the window again, posture straight, face neutral, eyes fixed on Happy and Lisanna.
Her gaze was too still.
Happy’s chest tightened. “Carla-”
Carla looked away and walked out. Happy’s stomach dropped like a stone.
He didn’t wait. He didn’t think. He darted after her, wings beating hard enough to stir the air. Outside, the snow had thickened. The streetlamps turned it into swirling gold. Carla stood under the guild’s overhang by the steps, facing away, arms folded tightly.
Happy landed lightly beside her. “Carla.”
She didn’t respond.
Happy swallowed. “That was nothing. Lisanna was just, she just-”
Carla’s voice was calm, but the calm was dangerous. “You do not need to explain yourself.”
Happy flinched. “Yes, I do.
Because- because I don’t want you thinking I’m-”
Carla finally turned. Her eyes were bright with emotion she was trying to crush down.
“I do not think you are anything,” she said, voice clipped. “I am not entitled to your attention, Happy.”
Happy’s heart hurt. “That’s not- Carla, come on, you know-”
She shook her head sharply, like she was shaking off weakness. “Yesterday was… a moment. It does not require interpretation.”
Happy stared at her.
Was that what she thought? That it was just a moment? Or was that what she was telling herself because it was safer? Happy’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to push her. He didn’t want to trap her. But he also couldn’t pretend anymore.
“I liked it,” he said quietly.
Carla’s expression flickered.
Happy stepped closer, careful, slow. “I liked your kiss. A lot. And I keep thinking about it, and I keep wondering if you regret it, and then I see you look away and I-”
His voice cracked slightly, and he hated himself for it.
Carla’s ears went pink again, but her eyes were hard. “You are overthinking.”
Happy let out a small, broken laugh.
“Yeah. I am. That’s what I do when I care.”
Carla froze. Happy hadn’t meant to say it like that. Not as a confession. Not as a weapon. It was just the truth.
Carla’s breath hitched.
Happy panicked, rushing to soften it.
“Not- look, not like- I mean, I do care, but you know what I mean. You’re my friend. And you’re- Carla, you’re important.”
Carla’s composure wavered. She
looked down at the snow, jaw clenched.
Happy could see it, the battle in her, the instinct to retreat, the fear of being seen, judged, misunderstood.
He didn’t know what to do except be honest.
“I don’t expect anything from you,” he said. “I just… I want you to know I’m not playing. I’m not doing this for a joke. I don’t even know how to be sneaky, Carla. I’m terrible at it.” His mouth twitched. “But I’m trying. For you.”
Carla’s eyes lifted, suddenly softer. “For me?”
Happy nodded. “Because you look like you’re scared.”
Carla’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I am.”
Happy’s heart squeezed. “Of what?”
Carla hesitated, then forced the words out. “Of everyone.”
Happy stared. “Everyone?”
Carla’s gaze flicked back toward the guild doors, as if the building itself could hear. “They are loud. They notice everything. They assume. They tease. They pry. And… I do not wish to be a spectacle.”
Happy nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Carla blinked, caught off guard. “That is all you have to say?”
Happy shrugged. “Yeah. If you don’t want people in it, then it’s not for them.”
Carla’s eyes tightened with emotion.
“Some people… will not understand.”
Happy thought of the way some guild members joked too hard, pushed too far. He thought of the way a few still carried old ideas about what was “normal.” He thought of how Carla carried herself like she had to be perfect to be taken seriously.
He also thought of her cheek against his lips yesterday.
“I understand,” he said, voice gentle.
“That’s enough.”
Carla stared at him like she didn’t trust the simplicity of it.
Then her expression broke, just a little, and the softness underneath showed.
Happy’s chest warmed again. Before the moment could deepen, the guild door creaked open. Panther Lily stepped out. He looked at them both, unimpressed.
“You are both foolish.”
Happy blinked. “Huh?”
Carla stiffened. “Lily-”
Lily ignored Carla’s warning tone. He looked directly at Happy. “You hover around her like a ghost.”
Happy bristled. “I’m trying not to be obvious!”
Lily shifted his gaze to Carla. “And you pretend you feel nothing while your entire body says otherwise.”
Carla’s ears went red. “That is-”
Lily raised a paw, cutting her off. “You fear the guild’s reaction. Reasonable. The guild is loud.”
Happy nodded vigorously. “See? He gets it.”
Lily continued, voice dry. “But you are allowing fear to make decisions for you. That is less reasonable.”
Carla’s mouth tightened. “I am not-”
“Yes, you are.” Lily’s eyes narrowed slightly, not cruel, just firm. “If you wish to keep this quiet, then keep it quiet. But do not punish each other in the process.”
Happy’s chest tightened. “I’m not punishing her.”
Lily gave him a look. “You are punishing yourself. This affects her.”
Happy opened his mouth, then closed it. Carla looked away. Lily’s tone softened, just enough to be human.
“You are not asking the guild for permission. You are asking each other for courage.”
He turned back toward the door.
“Return inside. The cold will make you both more dramatic.”
Happy sputtered. “I’m not-”
Lily went inside. Happy and Carla stood in the snow in sudden silence. Carla’s shoulders eased, just slightly, as if Lily’s bluntness had cut through the fog.
Happy swallowed. “He’s… kind of right.”
Carla huffed, but there was no bite in it. “Unfortunately.”
Happy smiled, small and genuine. “Can we… try again? Like- like a do-over? Not the kiss. The… everything after.”
Carla stared at him for a long beat.
Then she nodded once. “Yes.”
Happy felt something in his chest unclench.
They walked back inside together, side
by side, close, but not touching. Not yet.
The next day, the guild’s Christmas market trip became a minefield.
It wasn’t official. It was just what happened every year: groups formed, people drifted through stalls, food was eaten, Natsu tried to fight an ice sculpture, Erza threatened him, Lucy complained, Gray got distracted, and the entire guild somehow ended up in a cluster again.
Happy stayed close to Natsu at first out of habit, but his eyes kept tracking Carla. Carla stayed near Wendy out of habit, but her gaze kept finding Happy.
They were careful. They were not as careful as they thought. At one stall, Mirajane offered Carla a small, pretty ribbon charm shaped like a snowflake.
“For your tail,” Mira said brightly. “It would look adorable.”
Carla accepted it with a polite nod, and Happy, hovering nearby, couldn’t stop the soft smile that tugged at his mouth.
Mirajane noticed. Her eyes gleamed with the same delighted menace she used when she’d just figured out someone’s secret. Happy’s wings stiffened. Mira leaned toward Lucy and whispered something. Lucy’s eyes widened, then her gaze snapped toward Happy and Carla with a slow, knowing look.
Happy felt his whole body go hot. Carla, noticing the attention, straightened instantly, expression smoothing into neutrality. Happy hated that he’d caused that. Hated that the world could intrude so easily. He forced himself to look away, to pretend he was fascinated by a stall selling tiny wooden fish ornaments. He felt Carla’s gaze on him. He didn’t look back.
Not until later, when he found her momentarily alone near a quiet corner of the market, away from the loudest crowd.
He floated up cautiously. “Hey.”
Carla’s ears flicked. “Hello.”
Happy hovered close, careful with his distance. “I’m sorry about earlier. Mira looked at us and I-”
Carla’s expression softened faintly. “You did not do anything wrong.”
Happy frowned. “It feels like I did.”
Carla studied him, then said quietly,
“When you… looked away, it felt like you were ashamed.”
Happy’s chest tightened. “What? No!”
Carla’s eyes were steady. “Then do not look away from me.”
Happy’s throat went dry.
He nodded, small and serious. “Okay.”
Carla’s tail loosened slightly, the tension easing.
Happy smiled, relieved. “Okay.”
He glanced up, then froze.
Above them, tied to the market awning, was mistletoe, another sprig, another quiet trap for the season. Happy’s heart thudded. Carla followed his gaze.
Her cheeks went faintly pink.
They stood under it together, not by accident, not forced, just… there. The plant didn’t dictate anything. It only made the moment visible.
Happy swallowed. “So… this thing keeps following us.”
Carla huffed softly. “Humans are persistent.”
Happy’s smile grew, warm and a little shy. “You were brave yesterday.”
Carla’s ears twitched. “Do not exaggerate.”
Happy shook his head. “You were. You did something you didn’t have to do.”
Carla’s gaze softened. “You did too.”
Happy blinked. “Me?”
“You did not demand. You did not tease. You did not use it against me.” Carla’s voice lowered. “You simply… accepted.”
Happy’s chest felt too full. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Carla stepped closer. She lifted one paw carefully and pressed it lightly against his shoulder, steadying him the way she sometimes did when he was about to tip too far into excitement. Happy’s wings stilled. Carla leaned in, slow enough that he could have moved away if he wanted.
He didn’t.
She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek again, longer this time, more certain.
Happy closed his eyes. When she pulled back, he was still smiling like he’d forgotten how not to.
Carla’s cheeks were pink, but her gaze held his. “That is… still all.”
Happy swallowed. “Can I… can I do something too?”
Carla blinked.
Happy lifted himself slightly, careful with his paws, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, between her ears.
Carla froze. Then her eyes softened, and her shoulders eased..Happy whispered, barely audible,
“Merry Christmas.”
Carla’s voice was quiet. “Merry Christmas, Happy.”
Behind them, the market noise continued, oblivious. No one screamed. No one teased. No one noticed. For a moment, it was just theirs. Panther Lily saw them from a distance.
He did not smile openly. He was not that kind of cat. But his posture eased, and something like approval settled in his eyes. Quiet worked for them.
As long as they didn’t let quiet turn into hiding from each other. Back at the guild that evening, the tension changed.
It wasn’t gone. It was simply… redirected. Happy didn’t hover like a restless ghost anymore. He hovered close when he could, stepped back when he needed to, always watching Carla’s cues.
Carla didn’t run from the warmth now. She allowed it in small ways, standing nearer, speaking softer, letting Happy’s presence become normal.
It was, in its own way, intimate. Still, the guild noticed shifts the way it noticed weather. Lucy watched them with a thoughtful expression, as if storing the observation for later. Mirajane’s smile became dangerously knowing. Erza, perhaps the most terrifying judge of all, said nothing, which somehow felt like a deliberate mercy.
Happy was relieved and also still nervous..He was cleaning fish scales off a plate in the kitchen area when Natsu leaned over him with a grin. “You’re acting weird.”
Happy stiffened. “I’m not.”
“You’re totally weird.” Natsu squinted.
“Did you eat something bad?”
Happy deadpanned. “I always eat bad things. It never stops me.”
Natsu laughed, then frowned. “Then what is it?”
Happy hesitated, then shrugged.
“Nothing.”
Natsu stared a moment longer,
then, surprisingly, didn’t push. He just grinned. “Okay. But if you’re hiding fish, I’ll find it.”
Happy sighed. “You always do.”
Natsu wandered off.
Happy exhaled slowly, then looked up, and found Carla watching him from the doorway.
Her expression was calm, but there was softness in her eyes.
Happy’s chest warmed.
He floated over. “You okay?”
Carla’s ears flicked. “I am fine.”
Happy smiled. “You said it at the normal
speed this time.”
Carla huffed, but it was fond. “Do not become insufferable.”
Happy grinned. “Too late.”
Carla’s gaze drifted past him to where Wendy laughed with the others, then back to Happy.
“I…” Carla began, then paused, searching for words like she disliked needing them. Happy waited.
Carla’s voice lowered. “You were correct yesterday.”
Happy blinked. “About what?”
Carla looked away briefly, then met his eyes again. “It feels different.”
Happy’s heart thudded. “Good different?”
Carla’s ears went pink. “Yes.”
Happy’s grin softened into something quieter. “Me too.”
Carla hesitated, then said, “I am still… wary of the guild.”
Happy nodded immediately. “Okay. We can keep it quiet. We can do it your way.”
Carla’s gaze held his. “And what is your way?”
Happy thought about it, about how he wanted to shout his happiness, how he also wanted to keep Carla safe, how he didn’t want her to feel trapped or watched.
“My way,” he said slowly, “is… I want to be near you. A lot. But I can be patient. And I can be careful. If it means you don’t feel like you have to run.”
Carla’s expression softened in a way Happy rarely got to see.
“…Thank you,” she said quietly.
Happy smiled. “Anytime.”
Carla stepped closer. Close enough that Happy could feel the warmth of her presence. Then she leaned in and pressed her forehead gently to his.
Happy froze. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loudly, didn’t ruin it. Carla whispered, so softly it was almost lost in the guild’s distant noise, “This is acceptable.”
Happy’s eyes stung with sudden, ridiculous emotion.
He whispered back, “Yeah. Yeah it is.”
The ending came late, when the guild finally quieted. Not empty, Fairy Tail never truly emptied, but softened. The fire cracked gently. Snow tapped at the windows. A few members dozed in chairs, exhausted from holiday food and loud celebration.
Carla stood by the door, looking up at the mistletoe again.
Happy drifted beside her. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Happy, voice small, admitted,
“I thought you were gonna tell me it didn’t mean anything.”
Carla’s ears flicked. “Why?”
Happy shrugged, embarrassed.
“Because you’re… you. You don’t like messy things.”
Carla stared at him, then said quietly, “I do not like messy things.”
Happy nodded, resigned. “Yeah.”
Carla’s gaze softened. “But you are worth… some mess.”
Happy’s breath caught.
He smiled, warm and stunned. “Wow.”
Carla rolled her eyes, cheeks pink. “Do not make it worse.”
Happy hovered closer, careful. “Can I ask you something?”
Carla nodded once.
Happy swallowed. “Do you want this? Like… not just the kisses. Not just the mistletoe. Do you want… me? In a real way?”
Carla’s heart beat too fast, annoyingly loud in her own ears. She could have dodged. She could have deflected. She could have hidden behind poise.
But she was tired of fear making choices.
Carla met his eyes. “Yes.”
Happy’s whole face lit up, but he kept his voice gentle, like he’d finally learned what mattered. “Okay.”
Carla added, because she needed him to understand the shape of it, “Quietly.”
Happy nodded immediately. “Quietly.”
Carla’s shoulders loosened. “Without… spectacle.”
Happy smiled. “Without spectacle.”
Carla’s eyes softened further. “With honesty.”
Happy’s smile became almost tender. “Always.”
Carla stepped forward. Under the mistletoe, not because it forced anything, but because it had become their small, ridiculous marker of courage.
She kissed his cheek again. Happy returned it, top of her head, between her ears, soft and careful. Carla closed her eyes. For a moment, the world was quiet in a way it rarely was.
Panther Lily watched from across the hall.
He saw Happy’s posture, the settled happiness in his wings. He saw Carla’s shoulders lowered, her expression less guarded than usual.
He saw the way they stayed close without needing to announce it.
Lily allowed himself one small internal concession: They were doing it correctly.