Of Lightning and Long Locks

Morning Routine

He needed coffee before he could deal with this shit.

"You ... what?"

Nope, coffee first, then berating. Laxus groaned, feeling like such an idiot. What an embarrassment!

"You don't have a toothbrush, a comb, and now you don't have your razor. Laxus, did you pack any toiletries?"

"At least he brought deodorant," Evergreen quipped, amused by the standoff between groggy and confounded Laxus versus a morning-haired, irate, probably-didn't-sleep-a-wink-because-the-guy-he-has-a-crush-on-was-sleeping-right-beside-him Freed.

Bickslow called over from a pot of boiling water they would use for tea and coffee. "You need to go to his house before missions and pack his things."

Evergreen tittered slyly with a glance to Bickslow. "Isn't that a bit like ... a husband?"

Laxus collapsed his head fully down onto his knees. Shit! It was bad enough to realize he forgot practically half of his toiletries, which he had been positive he packed in his bathroom—and probably left them on the counter. It was worse to have Freed treat him like a child. Damn, he hated that. But the absolute worst was Bickslow and Evergreen suggesting he needed a husband to sort him out.

Did they really have to say it like that?

Freed saw how mortified Laxus was, and Evergreen's comment did not help him, either. He had often gone over to Laxus' house the night before missions precisely to make sure he packed everything properly. He often fixed Laxus meals since he knew he ate poorly. He was almost always the one to care for Laxus when he came down sick. He censored some of his more garish wardrobe choices—seriously, the man had an outrageous sense of fashion when left alone—and too often he volunteered to do the grocery shopping so Laxus did not have to bother with such a mundane task.

He really was like a spouse, but it felt comfortable to be like this. He did not want Evergreen and Bickslow making their domestic arrangement suddenly awkward.

"It's fine," he said with a sigh, letting his morning crankiness slip away. "Borrow mine. But it's a straight razor."

Laxus fisted up his hands in frustration. "I can't."

"I told you, it's fine—"

"I can't fuckin' shave with a straight razor, okay? I tried once with Gramps' razor and needed Porlyusica to stitch my face together."

"Fine. Bickslow?"

Bickslow pulled out his toiletry kit and showed he also used a straight razor.

"Fuckin' hell," Laxus grumbled. "Don't tell me you use one too, Evergreen."

"No, but mine is for ladies, and you are not dulling it with that rough stubble."

Laxus leaned up and rubbed his face. "It ain't that bad. I'll just let it go for a day."

"You most certainly will not!" Freed decreed. "We are representing Fairy Tail. We will not walk around scruffy and sloppy. That simply will not do."

Dammit, it was too early in the morning for Freed's theatrics. Where was the coffee?

"I will shave you," he insisted. "I've shaved men before, so I know how to do it."

Laxus glared over through pre-coffee haze. Freed had shaved men? When? Had he worked in a fucking barbershop as a kid?

"Whatever," he grumbled. Freed had that look again; it was no use arguing.