#lyoza

Truly, the only one who remained unscathed was Wendy, his teenage student he'd been training to take over his job.

With her, Lyon was all proud smiles and shoulder pats. Erza felt like she was looking at what kind of father he'd be, and she often had to look away, lest she be betrayed by parts that weren’t her brain.

Jellal was gone but she still hadn't sorted out her feelings for Lyon since their talk. And there were feelings, lots of feelings. But the main one was the panicked feeling, like she was running out of time. And now… time was up.

"Have you..." she swallowed, losing her courage by the minute. Facing down a bear raiding a dumpster? No problem, she was fearless. But anything with feelings? She felt lost. Fumbling. Anxious and confused. "Seen the video?"

Lyon shut the trunk, bending down to ruffle the young dog's ears without answering for a long moment. Toby leaned his whole body into the caress, tongue lulling and massive paw dangling in the air. He was going to be a monster of a dog.

"I forgot to."

Forgot? How… that was not something you’d forget.

"But you knew about it. Them. The Youtube channel."

Lyon's gaze was guilty as he looked up to meet her eyes, "I was too distracted to watch, but I spoke with a fan about it at the bakery. Gray puts the tutorial videos up but he never had permission to put up our lessons. I apologize."

This suddenly got a lot harder. She'd been expecting he'd seen and knew what was on the videos. It wasn't exactly something she could put in front of him and surprise him with, the way Jellal had her.

"I will remind him to take those down."

So he hadn’t forgot; not really. He already knew and had no plans to watch them. Well, of course, he was there. He probably wasn’t as oblivious to his feelings as she was.

"Actually," she cut in, holding up the mail she'd been sitting on. After seeing the video, the bakery's success started making more sense. And so did the letters. "I think the reason Fairy Tail is doing so well is because of Youtube. These are fan letters. They are addressed to the bakery..."

"Let me guess, they are addressed to the very cute couple at the bakery?" he added wryly, little humor behind his smile. "People do love that sort of thing."

Did he have to make this so difficult? She was trying to have a serious conversation here, and already he was deflecting with snide words.

"Strange accusations from a romantic," she said firmly, daring him to contradict her. He didn't. Gray had a loose tongue when drunk, and Erza didn't remember much from that night, but she did distinctly remember those words. It seemed funny, since Gray wouldn't know romance if it bit him on the butt.

"There is a lot of hate and distrust and greed in this world. Trust me, I know; I am an attorney. Appreciating love and beauty is a natural response, I believe."

She hadn't expected that. While she appreciated nature and liked other people, she rarely took the time to think about it, let alone appreciate it. She expected him to follow it up with a flirt, but he was watching her quietly.

"True."

"Erza, I..." he stumbled a bit over his words then and she held her breath, "Appreciate your kindness and generosity. And Magnolia for being my second home. Thank you. And... good-bye."

He leaned forward, placing a very chaste but very emotional kiss on her forehead.

Oh no. No. No. No. It was a slow moving horror movie without the monster or music watching him stride to the car, get in and roll down the road.

While she was frozen, the car pulled away down the driveway. She felt like she was losing him forever, and she was not going to do another Jellal because she was afraid of rejection. But she couldn't seem to call out or move.

Toby, on the other hand, sprung into action.

"Toby, no!”

The puppy tore down the road, loping along side the car, sorely put out he was on the outside instead of the inside. As Lyon slowed down, he launched himself through the open window, pulling his body in and landed in the man's lap.

By the time she'd caught up, the two spilled out the door in a tangle of limbs and yelps.

"Someone does not want you to go," she commented, hiding a laugh at his predicament. He grunted as the dog paw hit his gut, and Erza reached down to help him up. He hesitated, their fingers brushing, before committing. She heaved him up with ease, pushing off Toby and pulling him in.

Face to face, he looked hopeful but his tone held flirty bravado, "Is that someone you?"

"It might be."

"It would be awfully rude of me to disappoint a lady."

She moved to shove him but instead her fingers curled into his collar, tugging him close so their noses brushed and pants mingled. Just like when they first met, he met her gaze too long, too openly, but this time she met it back.

"Stay.” It came out a whisper, “Please?"

He gravitated forward so their lips touched softly, smirking, "Well, if you say it so nicely, I have no choice. May I?”

Rolling his eyes and swiping a hand through his hair unconsciously, he went to work on the muffins. After he got off work the day before, he’d spent a rather leisurely time on Gray’s deck researching recipes and watching the local squirrel mafia have a turf war. He’d discovered a multitude of tweaks to try on the muffins, and he’d found out what local, seasonal fruits were around to experiment with. He sent off several queries to the locals asking about duck eggs, berries and honey, falling into old networking habits without even thinking.

“Wow, could you possibly be more boring?” Gray complained, circling around annoyingly. He zoomed a close up of the batter bowl and Lyon resisted the temptation of dunking the camera. “Do something more… exciting? No wonder Makarov retired for Florida if this is what the old man did every morning.”

Lyon liked the repetitive motions and the quiet of the kitchen in the pre-dawn morning. It was soothing compared to the rat race of his previous job, and Erza had given him a key, so he could start as early as he liked. He wasn’t expected to run the front or interact with customers, so the earlier he started, the earlier he could leave, theoretically. He suspected it was more because she didn’t trust him with customers and less because she was being generous with his schedule. 

For some reason she thought he was an ass. Well, she wouldn’t be the first person to come to that conclusion. 

Drolly, he started narrating everything he did, mockumentary-style. Eventually he started dropping in bits of helpful information, and soon, it was a full-blown tutorial on blueberry muffins with Gray interjecting funny comments and sound effects. 

By the time Erza showed up, most of the work was done for the morning, lined up to cool on the racks Lyon. Meanwhile, Lyon had set up a table of ingredients and equipment for Gray’s filming pleasure so he wouldn’t accidentally trip while bumbling about.

“What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Gray replied over Lyon saying, “Baking."

Neither of them were willing to admit to the buffoonery two grown men had gotten into unsupervised to the scary woman who stood there with her arms crossed, scowling. Gray quickly hid the camera behind his back while Lyon tipped in the next ingredient innocently, like he hadn't been lobbing berries at his brother.

"Is the bread in the works?"

"It is. Thank you for putting things out last night."

"Good." She turned to leave the kitchen.

Lyon threw another blueberry behind her back at Gray, making the other man yelp and nurse the spot on his forehead. Lyon straightened up when she turned back towards him, face serious and hands mixing steadily.

She turned back with a suspicious look.

"Do you boys need supervision."

"Yes."

"No."

Gray laughed boyishly, still hiding the camera, "Hey, Erza, maybe you should take some lessons. This idiot here is not a half-bad teacher."

"I... I am not sure..." she dithered and Lyon smirked, "Nervous?"

"I am not nervous," she protested staunchly, ignoring Gray's leer and Lyon's widening smirk. Frowning, she added, "I have to get the front end ready. Are you sure you have time to play around?"

"Miss Scarlett..."

"Erza. I told you that yesterday."

"Erza then. Come here." He held out his palm, steady and open, smirk dropping to a sincere expression. Reluctantly, she took a few steps his way, gaze seeking his for a trick or tease. He beckoned again, with a soft crook of his fingertips, "Come here. Put on this apron, and I will teach you some basics. We have time, I promise. Trust me."

She reached for his hand, snatching the apron strings, and snorted, "Maybe if you put on a shirt, I would think you were more trustworthy."

"Oh, burn," Gray hooted, ignoring the pot and kettle look Lyon shot his way. Besides, he had an apron on. It wasn't like the skin was uncovered. It just got much too hot back with the ovens on to wear so many layers.

Lyon mockingly pretended to be wounded before starting the lesson, enjoying the way her brow crinkled up with concentration and the tip of her tongue peeking out as she measured the flour so carefully. He tried not to think about when their fingers brushed, how warm her hands were, but not soft. It was a fascinating texture, and one he wanted to explore in detail. Even in a bakery full of smells, he could tell she wore strawberry and vanilla because every time her hair brushed against him, it teased him.

Much the way Gray was going to later, he was sure of it.

"Uggh," she growled, smashing what had to be the fourth egg in as many seconds. Shells littered the area like fallen soldiers and the bowl Lyon had directed her to crack them in was overflowing with eviscerated yolks. "Why is this so difficult?"

"Here, here," Lyon stepped in without thinking. Deftly, he reached around and steadied her hands, chin not quite on her shoulder. Uncurling her death grip on the poor egg, he guided the motion, creating a strong and sharp crack. The yolk plopped perfectly into the new bowl he'd set in front of her. "See? Firm but gentle."

"Okay. Firm but gentle,” she echoed with concentration, holding another egg. He let go of her hands reluctantly, pulling back to give her space. If she noticed, she didn't say anything, too focused on her hands and the bowl. "Ah! Did you see that? I did it!"

"Perfect," he praised as any good teacher should when their student did well, ignoring the other feelings that bubbled up. Taking a good step back, he brushed off his hands and making a show of checking the clock, "Time to end our lesson for the day."

"Tomorrow?" Her eyes were sparkling with triumph and her smile was genuine.

With a silly, sweeping bow, he answered, "Certainly. Anything you wish, I will gladly teach you."

Flushing, she swatted away his gesture, hurrying to go open the front, and he watched her go a little too long and a little too intensely.

Not that there were many other people he knew in the area - despite what he told Erza at the beginning of the summer, he hadn’t gone out of his way to get to know people outside of the bakery. What was the point? He was planning to leave in a little over a month anyway.

Summer was almost over, and plans hadn’t changed.

“It is quiet if I go in early.”

“And Erza isn’t there,” Gray observed, his eyes on the curve of wood he was sanding. “There’s early, and there’s keeping the owls company, Lyon.”

He could stutter out some excuses and deny everything. Gray would pretend to believe him and the subject would be dropped. But he was too weary to fight it.

“You said she was not my type,” Lyon accused quietly, without venom.

Gray reached for a can of lacquer and admitted bluntly, “I lied. She’s totally your type. Stubborn, socially awkward, proud, hardworking and genuine. But that’s not why I hooked you up with the job. Bro, I wish I had a picture of you at the beginning of the summer. You looked like crap before, all stressed and high-strung and pale as a snowman. You didn’t need a girlfriend; you needed some time to work on you and rest. Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

Before Lyon could answer, his phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, since it was mostly robocallers and scammers that had his number. But his previous job had conditioned him too well.

‘can u cum? emergen-c!!! :( :( :(’

Lyon’s lips pinched at the Freudian slip on Erza’s text but didn’t comment. He sincerely hoped auto-correct had struck again.

“You,” he pointed at Gray seriously, “Are not off the hook about tricking me. But we will speak later.”

Gray looked duly unimpressed. “Are you threatening me?”

“Promising. Be ready.”

Rushing over to the bakery, he wasn’t sure if he should brace himself for the entire place burned down to the ground or being out of whipped cream. Erza had a skewed sense of priorities sometimes.

So far, so good. No police. No fire trucks. No ambulance. Nothing amiss in the parking lot, which housed a number of customer cars. Heaving a sigh of relief, he pushed his way through the front doors and let out a slightly strangled scream of surprise. 

And tried to jump into Erza’s arms.

Lyon had never told anyone this, but he was terrified of dogs.

“Lyon?”

Fortunately for him, Erza’s reflexes were good, and she didn’t have those muscles for nothing. It wasn’t the most graceful of catches, but he didn’t splat on the floor into the clutches of the monster either.

He clung there for a good, long moment before Erza came to her senses and dropped him. If he hadn’t been focused on the beast, he might have heard some clicks of photographic evidence. Instead, he scrambled out of the animal’s reach as it clumsily lunged at him, tongue out and drool dribbling down it’s maw. Once safely behind the swing door of the counter, he subtly grabbed his chest and silently swore a string of words that would make any sailor proud.

“Wh-what is the emergency?” He tried for calm and collected. Several customers tittered at the effort but Erza was oblivious. She scooped up the dirty mutt, waving the monster around while it tried to slurp at her face.

“I found a puppy!”

“Hardly an emergency.”

She ignored his sarcasm, playing with the beast’s paws, “I need to take him to the vet. I bet his owner is so sad and missing him! Can you watch the front?”

If it would make the creature go away faster, he’d do the Hula. Of course, what came out of his mouth was an affirmative. The problem was, he’d never run the front. He didn’t know how to run cards or make the change drawer open on the register. And the espresso machine was a mystery. He might be the genius in the back, but Erza was the one that kept the front running smoothly.

It took some fumbling and a lot of trial and error but eventually he got the basics.

“Oh, you’re up front today. Where’s your girlfriend?”

Lyon glanced up at the next customer and was about to inform her that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Instead, his jaw clicked shut, and his brain reminded him to shut up. The woman was giving a wide smile, her manicured nails clicking lightly against the glass display, and there was a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. He studiously kept his gaze on her face because one glance told him her body was as gorgeous as her face, and while she might want the looks, he was a professional and a gentleman. Also, if she wasn’t a model, she should be.

She leaned forward to peer past him then looked a little disappointed as she straightened up.

“Darn, I was hoping to catch you two together! I love watching your baking lessons on Youtube! They’re so helpful and fun, and you two are a darling couple. Can I get two cranberry-orange muffins and a coffee?”

Gray.was.DEAD.

At no point did Erza ever give her permission to go up on the Youtube channel. Lyon forgot about Gray’s little project. Once a week the two would screw around, throw out a tutorial and then Lyon forgot about it. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would watch it, let alone be fans. Now he was thinking he should’ve been keeping a better eye on things.

Plastering on his best smile, he leaned forward a bit and turned up the charisma, “Not as darling as you. We are happy to have such a lovely fan patronizing our bakery.”

“Such a flirt,” she laughed playfully, giving his cheek a friendly, chiding pat. “Don’t let your girlfriend catch you!”

“Oh, I do not have to worry about that,” he smiled back wondering how he could get her number without being cliche. It might be just what he needed to get his mind off Erza and get back in the dating ring. He almost put his number on the cup but at the last minute handed it over blank.

She took her bag and coffee, “You’re cute but the good ones are always taken. Thanks for humoring me though. My name is Jenny, and next time I expect to see the two of you together!”

“Do you know her?”

He jumped, whirling to face Erza. She was still holding the beast, but at the moment, he would take the dog. Her expression wasn’t as innocent as her question. 

“A Youtube fan.” 

He didn’t know why he was so guilty. Nothing had happened, and Jenny was a sweet fan.

“Oh, next time you should offer your autograph,” Erza remarked, brushing past him towards the back. He almost set the record straight, but something about the way she was holding herself convinced him to hold his piece.

Stalking back into the dark kitchen, she tried not to notice how clean and organized it was. After their little conversation, he’d not-so-gently deposited her outside of the kitchen to make the coffee and ready the front end for open. And she’d been so pissed at him, she’d let him do whatever, venting her seething on the espresso machine and helpless cash register.

‘Whatever’ turned out to be a modest assortment of muffins and some scones. Followed by some cookies and eventually several loaves of heavenly smelling bread. It wasn’t exactly a bustling morning, given the bakery’s limp reputation, but Gray dropped in as did Lucy and Levy. Levy may or may not have squirrelled away several of the cookies with a guilty smile and nibble and defensive ‘what, they’re good!’ when Lucy chided her. A few other citizens drifted in - Lisanna, Gray’s girlfriend, and her burly brother Elfman, along with Jet and Droy, Levy’s bookstore employees. It was the most action the bakery had seen in several weeks.

The modest assortment slowly dwindled but there was still a modest pile at the end of the day she had no idea what to do with. When she questioned her sarcastic employee, he quipped the raccoons might like a treat. This was much too good to waste on raccoons. Besides, she was fairly certain all the local wildlife had been poisoned by her dumpster and her bakery was now on the no-raid list. Even the rats turned out their crooked little noses at her leftovers. 

Tucking the leftover loaves and cookies into her bag to take back to Lucy’s, she went to lock the doors and do her nightly check-list. There seemed to be a never-ending list of chores when running a small business, and even though she’d started early in the morning and put in a twelve hour day, she wasn’t done yet. 

“This seems like it has potential…” she muttered to herself, bookmarking the recipe for later. Compulsively, she checked her email, just in case. Several pleas had been sent out to Mister Makarov but apparently there was no wi-fi in Florida or something because he’d yet to answer her. Old man was probably off at the beach being a massive pervert and avoiding contact with the world.

The shrill ringtone going off in the middle of her surfing nearly stuck her to the ceiling.

“Bad time?” 

She beamed at the man on the other end of the video chat, thoughts about Fairy Tail flying out of her head. Her hands were busy flattening her hair and dusting any stray flour from her shoulders. It was a rare occasion that Jellal Fernades called her instead of the other way around. He looked serious - but he always looked serious - and tired.

“Jellal! Where are you?”

“Tokyo,” he answered with a slight smile and she noticed his dark bangs were getting shaggy and long again. “My flight was delayed, so I thought I would give you a call. It’s been…?”

“Three weeks.”

A slight embarrassed look crossed his face and he cleared his throat before changing the subject, “How is the bakery? You were optimistic last time we spoke that it was a good change of pace.”

“A nightmare.” Erza groaned and put her face in her hands. She’d never show such weakness in front of anyone else but she trusted Jellal not to make fun of her. “I do not know why I thought I could do this.”

“Because you are Erza,” Jellal replied with the same quiet humor he always had when he said such a thing. It wasn’t the same as when Natsu or Gray said it, a bit too rough and loud and mocking. Coming from him, the joke was soft, tender, and it curled her toes. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Hastily, she added to shoo the butterflies forming in her stomach away, “Anyway, I have a new employee who can bake, so there are items for sale now…”

“Oh? And how is she?”

Erza almost responded with the word ‘nightmare’ to sum up her experiences with the snobby and pushy employee she’d acquired. But what she said instead was a surprise.

“He is… fair.”

Fair? What in the world did she mean by that? He was fair looking? He was fair at baking? He was fair in his treatment despite her moody and stressed treatment of him?

Jellal’s brows went up, either at the pronoun or the tone or the word choice, Erza couldn’t tell. Resting his chin on his curled palm, he gave her one of his looks. One of the sharp, politician looks she hated because they seemed to sear into her soul and judge her down to the atom.

“I see.”

“It is… it is not like that! He is a fair baker, I mean.”

“I will take your word for it.” 

She winced a bit at the implied ‘I trust your judgement lacing his meaning. Jellal wasn’t big on sweets or baked goods, so he probably meant he trusted her taste buds and nothing more. Probably.

“He is Gray’s brother,” she added for good measure. “Here for the summer, visiting.”

Those seemed to be the keywords. Jellal’s expression lightened swiftly, his ease returning. Erza forgot how intense he could be at times. 

“How are things with you, Jellal?” she tried to keep her voice light and interest polite. She had no idea why he was in Japan, and if she asked, he’d probably just tell her it was a secret or better she didn’t know.

He turned his head, distracted, and she swallowed the ache in her throat at what she knew was coming next, “Oh, apologies, Erza, but that is my flight call. We will talk later and you can tell me all about it.”

“Of course. Good-bye, Jellal.”

“Good-bye Erza. Get some rest; you look exhausted.”

Quite hard, it turned out.

There were so many things she needed to learn that had nothing to do with baking, and the baking part itself was something she struggled with. Eating her way through every treat she could get her hands on did not prepare her for how much work went into making those delicious morsels.

But quitting wasn’t in Erza’s nature, and she was certain with some hard work she could turn things around.

“Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow?” she said, still skeptical of the man who spoke charmingly enough. Turning, she saw he’d acquired a cloth from somewhere, stripped off his jacket (and shirt!) and was making short work of all the splatter within arm’s reach. Surprised, she covered her awkward giggle with a cough and asked conversationally, “Do you have a place to stay?”

“The Heartfilia residence,” he answered, moving on to the nearest table, barely sparing her a glance. “Another of Gray’s friends. My brother seems to be quite the popular man.”

“It is a small town. Everyone knows everyone,” Erza bristled, sure he was making fun of her home.

He straightened up seriously, rag in hand absently, “I am sure I will too by the end of the summer. Miss Scarlett, you seem to have an impression of me I am not sure I deserve.”

Curse her wretched fair skin and freckles. Instead of answering in words, she spun to hide her burning face and to stop oogling his muscular chest. Of all the horrible habits to share with his brother, going topless did not have to be one of them! 

“Anyway,” she heard the rag flop down on the table, “I will come back tomorrow morning early. Be sure to either leave the door unlocked or be here to meet me.”

Well, dang it. She’d made him mad. How early was early to him anyway? 8 or 9? Would he even bother to show up tomorrow? It wasn’t any real loss if he didn’t. He probably was a fair baker but poor, struggling Fairy Tail Bakery needed more than mediocre tarts and muffins to survive. It had been flagging under Makarov’s expert hand, and under Erza’s inexperienced one it was drowning.

Without Fairy Heart she wasn’t sure it could go on that much longer.

Maybe that was for the better. 

She could say she gave it an honest try and go back to drifting between jobs. Of course, it’d be a shame. Fairy Tail had been in this town for generations, and there weren’t any good bakeries in the surrounding cluster of small towns either. A chain would probably move in or perhaps someone with more luck than Erza would give it a try. Ignoring the sinking, heavy feeling in her chest, she wondered what Magnolia would be like without it’s bakery. Once this had been a bustling, social hub where people came to gather during the day, the sun to the moon that was Mira’s bar.

“Girl, who was that hot, shirtless guy that just stalked out of here? And what did you do to drive away such a stud?”

Lucy Heartfilia, a charming and plucky blonde, grinned as Erza jumped out of her skin and her sad thoughts. Letting herself behind the counter, she leaned back against the display, looking through the open door to the kitchen.

“That,” Erza remarked stiffly, ignoring the hot and shirtless comment, “Is your new tenant for the summer.”

“That’s Gray’s brother?” Lucy whistled, impressed. “And here I thought it was a fluke Gray was so ripped after all those donuts and Mountain Dews. Guess those boys got some good genes.”

Erza frowned, trying not to think about it. Sure, she saw Gray half-naked all the time, but she thought of him like a dumb little brother. This was definitely different, and it felt very inappropriate. Especially since she had… someone else.

Sorry, Jellal, she said in her head.

Would he even care? Would he be jealous or disappointed she was looking at another guy? Erza wasn’t sure. It hadn’t come up before, and of course, he trusted her, but did she trust herself?

“Why were you looking?” Erza clicked her tongue, really questioning herself and not Lucy. “What would your girlfriend say?”

“She’d say go for it, babe; we need some more eye-candy around here. Not that she’d pay attention herself. Not unless said eye-candy had a well-stitched binding and some sweet, fresh off the press paper smell to it.” Lucy shrugged a my-girlfriend-is-a-bibliophile shrug and waved a book at Erza. “I was just bring over the latest and greatest erotica from our favorite author.”

“You?”

Lucy choked for a moment then laughed, “Our other favorite author. What makes you think I write erotica? I’ll just set this… okay, definitely not anywhere in here. Did you put the mixer on high again?”

“No.” 

Yes. Again. Because she hadn’t learned her lesson the last half dozen times. Why did it even have that setting, if all it did was cause chaos?

Lucy rolled up her sleeves, eyes twinkling with good humor, and snatched up the rag left by Gray’s brother. 

“First things first. You’re done destroying the kitchen for the day. We’re going to clean this mess up then you’re going to take the afternoon off to read this amazing novel and relax. I know you’re worried, but it’ll work out. Levy had a horrible time when she first opened her bookstore because she didn’t know how to order or stock or balance a budget, but now it’s thriving and hiring some employees to help out made a huge difference. Can you imagine Magnolia without it? Little mom’n’pops are Magnolia’s life blood and charm. The tourists don’t come here for Starbucks or Barnes and Noble after all.”

“No. No they do not,” Erza murmured to herself, thinking it a bit eerie Lucy had the same thoughts she had. 

The author was a transplant to the town, visiting on vacation and never leaving. It wasn’t entirely an unheard of thing, but Erza sometimes wondered if it was Magnolia or Levy her friend was in love with more. If anyone in town could be the authority on the charm the town held to outsiders, Lucy would be it.

The puppy yipped as she squeezed him tightly, whirling around.

“Jellal, you always say that!”

He inclined his head, “Only when it appears to be true. You are having a stressful summer.”

“How did you even get in here?” she mock complained, setting the puppy down carefully.

Jellal pointed to the back door, which she swore she’d locked after taking the trash out the night before. Of course he wouldn’t come in the front like a normal person. Man of Mystery after all. He graciously accepted her hug, smelling of familiarity and feeling of comfort. Unfortunately, she was certain she smelled of dog.

“I had some time off, so I thought I would pay you a visit.”

Well, that was a blatant lie; Jellal never just had some time off.

“It has certainly been awhile,” she poked his chest playfully, thrilled he was visiting. She didn’t ask how long he planned to stay this time, only appreciated he came. His visits were sporadic at best, and Erza knew he only made them for her.

The door to the back swung open, Lyon coming through cautiously, eyes on the floor. He nearly missed Jellal entirely, skirting around Toby, who’d flopped down for a nap under the table. 

“We are out of --” his sentence cut off as he realized there was a third person in the room. Lyon stiffened but looked to Erza for an answer. After dealing with Gray and Natsu for so many years, she could appreciate he didn’t fly off the handle. Mostly because it probably wouldn’t end well for him if he decided to take a swing at Jellal. “Who is this?”

She almost said glibly that she had a fan of her own.. Almost.

“This is my friend, Jellal. He is visiting from out of town.”

Judging by Lyon’s lack of reaction, someone had already told him about Jellal. Erza knew… well, he wasn’t the most popular guy among her friends, especially Gray.

“I see. Lyon Vastia,” he offered his hand without a smile and Jellal hesitated for half a second before taking it. They shook for a moment and Jellal replied, “Jellal Fernandes. I hear you are Fairy Tail’s new baker.”

“For the summer.” 

Lyon gave Erza a meaningful look, and she didn’t have a clue what it was about. When she didn’t speak up, he stepped around them, snagging a tray of bread and walked back out without another world.

“Rather cold,” Jellal observed and Erza mustered a fake cheer, “He is slow to warm up to new people.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk. In private?”

That was never good to hear. Leaving Toby snoozing under the table, she held the back door as the two slipped out. There was a path that ran into the woods on the other side of the parking lot, and she felt like she could use some fresh air.

“Erza, I am concerned about your employee.”

“Why?” she bristled at the way he said it. Like Lyon was a criminal or something. 

“Is he really leaving at the end of the summer?”

She frowned, not liking the direction of this conversation. Jellal hadn’t shown much interest in her goals and aspirations before, let alone whom she chose to associate with. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. But that was absurd. They weren’t even dating; he’d turned her down more than once.

He definitely did not get a say now of all times.

Jellal must have caught her expression and he held up a hand for her patience. Worrying her lip, she stared as he brought out his phone and fiddled with it. 

“Here.”

She watched the video a few times, trying to process what she was seeing. And more importantly, how in the world Jellal found such a thing. He wasn’t one to watch online videos for hours at a time. Then she watched a few more, vividly remember each lesson.

The way Lyon thoughtless tied her apron strings or the careless way he tucked loose hair behind her ears. His hands gentle on hers, his presence solidly behind her. The way he looked at her with his full attention, body leaning and focus solely on her, nothing else. His expression gentle, patient, enthralled.

Oh.

Oh no.

“It is not what it looks like.” 

She handed the phone back gingerly, closing her eyes but still seeing the video playback. Oh yes, it was exactly what it looked like. But how could she admit that? And how did she feel?

“And what does it look like, Erza.”

“It looks like baking lessons,” she replied, swallowing hard against the feelings threatening to overwhelm her. Her hand itched to slap him, for the ambush and confrontation, for the hurt she felt, for the shattering of dreams of what could have been between them. “From my… employee.”

That hadn’t been very convincing, and the silence was brittle. Jellal pocketed the evidence, and Erza felt like she was being confronted about an affair. Jutting her jaw stubbornly, she glared at him, daring him to say more. He didn’t look away but he didn’t repeat his question either or seek a better answer.

Sighing, he leaned against a tree, a deep frown marring his handsome face, “Never can win against you. Erza, are you happy? Truly happy? With your bakery? With Magnolia? With… him? All I wish is for you to be happy.”

“I believe so.”

The younger man leaned back casually in his chair, not put off by the blunt expression or grumpy words. Running a hand through his wild, black hair, he reached down to touch the chain around his neck for luck and patience. He knew his brother was irritated about losing his job and all that, but personally, Gray thought it was for the best. His eyes lingered on the slight, gaunt under-shadows and dark circles on Lyon’s naturally pale skin. His brother had been killing himself working like a slave to impress the top, and that demon of a boss was never going to cut him any slack, no matter what he did.

“Look, you’re pissed, and I get that. Being fired sucks. But maybe it’s a sign from--”

“If you say that it is a sign from God, I will clock you. Even God isn’t this incompetent. Lay the blame on the follies of man like the rest of us,” Lyon snorted, nose practically inhaling his triple shot espresso instead of his lips. He sighed heavily, committing to taking a drink from the strong brew, then added moodily, “And, I am not just fired. I am blacklisted. May as well try finding a job at McDonald’s or UPS because I burned those bridges thoroughly.”

“Well, you are a perfectionist,” Gray shrugged, thinking it all sounded a bit overdramatic. A job was a job. And in any case, Lyon tended to make things grandiose, even his midlife crisis had to be some awful catastrophe. If he’d kiss some ass and grease some palms, Gray was certain he could easily get another job in the field. But since he didn’t want Lyon to do that, he took a long slurp of his soda and shrugged instead of arguing. “You spent fifteen years in the grind between college and work. Don’t you think you can take some time off to explore something else?”

“And, what, be a poor artist?” Lyon raised an eyebrow as Gray looked past him at the sleek, shiny cherry red Roadster parked out front. Parked solidly next to it was a more modest black Tacoma, dinged and mature and coated in gravel dust. Admittedly, Gray did fairly well for himself, as an independent sculpturist, but his truck looked pretty dumpy next to his brother’s sporty show-off.

Gray gave a lopsided grin at the jab. 

“It does run in the family. You’re the one that had to run off and be a lawyer. And poor is subjective; I do alright. Plus, why are you even worried about money anyway? I know you’re a hoarder and a penny pincher. Didn’t the firm give you a nice severance to the tune of my yearly salary times five?”

“Hush money.”

“Whatever. Money is money. Think of this like… a vacation,” Gray offered, remembering a moment too late how much his brother hated vacations and the beach and airports and anything remotely related to fun. He amended it quickly before Lyon could protested, “A working vacation. To get out there and try something new, that you actually enjoy.”

“I enjoy work,” the man protested, eyeing the bottom of his coffee cup and looking ready to bail on this bro-date. 

“You enjoy bitching about work,” Gray shot back. He leaned forward, catching his brother’s eye and refusing to break contact, “You’re just being a big old baby. Too scared to break out of your little safe swaddling to try something new. Wah-wah, I’m Lyon, and my life is soooooo hard. I’m special for losing my shittyass job, so I’m going to cry about it, while everyone heaps me with pity and sympathy, because I’m a drama queen and attention whore, wah-wah. Grow up.”

Lyon’s jaw twitched at his words but he didn’t get up or deck him. Gray was grateful over the years that their relationship got a lot less physical. It didn’t mean he didn’t razz his brother or drag him, but it did mean there were less bruised knuckles and split lips involved. Not that he didn’t give as good as he got or that they didn’t still playfully scuffle, but they’d outgrown the need to brawl when one of them, or both of them, lost their temper.

“What do you suggest.”

Gray carefully schooled his face as the crux of his plan came to fruition.

“You like baking, right? Do that.”

Puzzlement stole across Lyon’s face, brow furrowed and lips pursed, “Do… baking? Are you proposing I start a cupcake business that caters to children’s parties?”

“Uh, hell no. And kids are scared of you. Remember Meredy’s birthday party?”

Both grimaced at the memory of their niece’s third birthday with the fairy theme. The cupcakes Lyon brought were a smash hit, but not a single kid could approach him without getting nervous and bursting into tears. Except the one that ran up and kicked him.

“Look, I have this friend…”

“Uh-huh…”

Gray nearly flipped him off at his skeptical tone but folded his hands maturely on the table instead, “Not an ex, I swear. And it’s not my bar friends or art friends either. No one flaky or hippie or whatever weird thoughts are going through your snobby head. Stop being so paranoid.”

“You are trying to set me up on a date,” the older man accused, sounding amused rather than annoyed.

“No, I’m trying to get you a job, dumbass.” Gray rolled his eyes and added, “Erza isn’t even your type. She has a bakery, and she needs someone who can bake. You can bake and need a job. Not a trick.”

Lyon remained skeptical but he smiled anyway, “I suppose it is better than McDonald’s.”

The idea of being set up on a date still lingering, an air of good humor was restored. Gray hadn’t even thought about that - mostly because he stayed way, way out of his brother’s love life after the unfortunate triangle they’d landed in with a woman Lyon liked but Gray didn’t like that liked Gray but didn’t like Lyon. What an absolutely disaster that was! And from what Gray gathered, Lyon had broken up with his latest and greatest partner recently. He probably wasn’t on the look out for a new relationship so soon.

Well, and Erza was Erza.

His friend really, really wasn’t Lyon’s type at all. It was kind of funny to imagine because they were opposites in a lot of ways. But they’d work good together. Maybe. And Erza really did need a good baker. And Lyon really did need to pull the stick out of his mopey butt and have a change of pace.