Here there be tears

"I'm not in the tournament, dumbass, I'm going to go watch and record it for my mom's cousin in Tokyo. Her son is participating in it but she got roped into one of my mom's weekend trips to Kyoto so she'll be gone for the majority of it, save maybe for the end if she's lucky," Iwaizumi explains slapping Oikawa's hand away from his plate.

"That doesn't really tell me why you're going," Oikawa pouts.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. "Because my mom got her to agree on the trip, so she told her I'd record her son's matches for her as compensation."

"And you agreed?"

"As if I could say no," he says, glaring at Oikawa when he tries yet again to steal one of his fries. "Besides it's been a while since I've seen Ryou, and I don't actually have to do anything important those days."

"And here I thought we were gonna hang out!" Oikawa protests loudly.

"My point exactly."

"You're so mean, Iwa-chan!"

Tachikawa smiles still in his trion body, kogetsus at his sides. "But then it wouldn't be a surprise visit."

"It wouldn't be all that surprising, no, but at least I wouldn't have to commit murder because I pushed you off the window," Kazama says evenly, throwing his jacket into his bed.

Tachikawa stills, one leg already in the room. "So, should I- you know?"

Kazama stares at him.

"Right then," Tachikawa starts, pulling his leg out. "I'll be right back, please leave the front door open," he says before jumping off.

"Telekinesis."

"What?" Hinata says laying his head down on the kotatsu.

"The thing you're talking about, it's called telekinesis," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Hinata stares at him, face blank. "Right. You still don't have that."

"We don't know that for sure," Kageyama says never taking the orange peel out of his sight.

Hinata rolls his eyes, reaches to peel another orange while Kageyama tries to find his inner telekinesis, and shoves it inside the latter's mouth once he finishes, throwing the peels into the garbage.

"See, I do have it." Kageyama mumbles, his mouth full of orange.

She giggles and reaches for it with small and chubby hands. At her sides are Natsu's and Gajeel's sons looking in awe as they lean towards it, careful not to put too much of their weight on top of her, as they'd been warned before. "I think," he starts, twirling the eternal ice in his hands, motioning to Natsu's son. "You probably know this story very well."

Natsu's son grins. "Yup! But it never hurts to hear it again, uncle Gray."

this one is called sometimes Berta's family say the darnest things and she cant laugh; a visual of the drabbles i've written and havent posted

Sting is the reader while Rogue is the writer.

Strange, some might say when you look at their mothers and their consequential roles. After all, it was Lucy who wrote, from letters to novels, and Levy who read, anything from what Lucy gave her or whatever she could get her hands on.

It's not, however, when one sits down with the boys and learns that Sting loved having his mother write stories for him so she and Natsu could read them to him (with special effects sounds included courtesy of dad) as he fell asleep. Rogue who loved seeing the gleam on his mother's eyes whenever she was reading something, usually something written by Lucy, and decided that he too wanted to be the reason his mother looked like that (going as far as asking his father to build him a large enough desk for him to keep multiple journals).

Sting who is very picky about lending books and the state he receives them in. At the same giving out the most recommendations on what needs to be read in one's lifetime and what needs to be locked away forever. Rogue who writes and writes and sometimes cannot finish a thing, his journals filled with incomplete stories. Until Frosch comes in with an idea or a request (their very presence easing his mind) and he finds himself finishing Frosch's request with ease.

Sting will find Rogue's journals on his room, usually at least once a month or two, with a simple note on top of them signed Raios M. in messy cursive. By the time the next batch goes to Sting, Rogue will have his notebooks back, each one marked and edited for either simple mistakes or specific critics about the writing or plot. Sting does not leave a signed note, hasn't for a long time, but Rogue remembers the bold and large way Sting used to sign Jude D.

Neither one openly speaks about this, save for the rare occasions when Frosch has a request or Lector asks Sting to read to him.

They don't talk about it to each other because it brings back memories, blurry ones, of a time when they had their mothers with them.

When the four would sit together in the guild, Levy or Sting reading even after they noticed the crowd had gotten much much larger. When Rogue asked Lucy for tips, ideas, and advice, or when Levy and Sting would exchange books.

Rogue doesn't look up from the chess board in front of him, brow tight in concentration. "Pointless," he murmurs, his hands twitching above the board, not sure of what to do.

"Yeah," Sting replies easily, watching Rogue with a teasing smile. "It's obvious anyway."

"Ooooh, how so?" Cana asks, laying across the sofa, Chesire cat grin in place.

Rogue groans, after Sting takes his bishop, before turning to Cana, "I'm better at controlling my magic."

"But I'm the one who packs the bigger punch!" Sting says enthusiastically, as he waits for Rogue's next move.

"Which most of the time is useless because it becomes a wasted punch since he usually has no plan. Which I come up with by the dozen," Rogue explains.

"Then I pick the best one out of the dozen!"

Cana nods, surprised at their answers. "But who's stronger? Rogue? Sting?" she tries asking again.

"Neither," Sting replies.

"Both," Rogue says, finally looking up from the chess board.

"It depends," they say simultaneously.

Cana laughs, hard and long until her ribs hurt and she's curling in on herself, tears on her eyes. "Oh, you are definitely their sons," she says, wiping the tears sitting on the corner of her eyes. The boys stare at her, confused with their head's slightly turned to the side. "Your mom's, you dorks, I meant you're definitely your mom's sons," Cana explains easily, giving them a proud smile and receiving two even prouder and brighter ones in return.