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Catch the Thunder	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Fairy Tail Views: 17785 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is the property of Hiro Mashima. I make no money, I just do this for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
- 47
- 48
- 49
A/N: Audio drama recording: http://chirb.it/JNaAqd
Chapter 48
Dirty Money
Laxus woke up to something gently stroking his forehead. He smiled to himself as he felt the slender fingers soothing his brow and petting up into his hair. Slowly, blinking with early morning light, he opened his eyes to the glorious view of Freed gazing down on him.
Laxus reached up and cupped Freed's cheek still creased from the pillows. This was heaven. Waking up like this every morning … he really could not think of anything more perfect.
They did not even need to say anything. They smiled at one another, both happy at being together to start the day, getting to spend the Saturday and the whole weekend together, just them, wrapped up in their own special world of love. Freed leaned over, Laxus threaded his fingers through his long hair to pulled him in, and their lips blessed the new day.
They took their time getting up, took turns using the bathroom to wash, chatted about the weather as they dressed, and finally left the condo holding hands. As they walked to Freed's Corvette, Laxus had a moment where he realized how utterly simple and domestic this was. They were lovers going out for breakfast on a Saturday morning.
How did I get so damn lucky?
Laxus had already picked where he wanted to eat and even set up reservations the day before to make sure they could get in without hassle. Freed was astonished at first. He knew the place from dinners with his parents, a truly top rated restaurant normally reserved for birthdays or other special occasions, not merely Saturday breakfast.
They entered and were showed to a booth set aside to give a bit of privacy. Laxus picked up his menu and studied it seriously. Freed glanced at the choices, knew what he wanted, and gazed across the table at Laxus. His brow was pinched. Why was he so quiet? That whole morning, they barely spoke at all. Freed was waiting, Laxus was uptight. What happened to him? What did he inherit? Why did he seem so changed if, according to him, nothing happened at the meeting of beneficiaries?
"The hell's quince jelly?"
Freed stifled a laugh at how serious he sounded. "Jelly made from quinces."
Laxus glared over the top of his menu, and Freed sputtered out a discrete laugh.
"It's a fruit. Like a tart pear."
"Eh, doesn't sound like enough. What's … duck … confit … benedict? Am I saying that right?"
"It's French. Silent T. Cone-fey, not con-fit."
"Whatever. It's like duck and eggs, right?"
"Have you ever had duck confit?"
"Hell, I've never had eggs benedict, but I see it on menus a lot."
"I think you'll like that one."
"Yeah? And what are you gonna have?"
"Florentine crêpes."
"Those any good?"
"I haven't had them here, but Nana's were good."
"Nana?"
"Our chef at home."
"If you grew up with a chef, how come you're so good at cooking?"
"Nana was like a grandmother. I hung around her in the kitchens whenever my parents weren't home, and she showed me how to make good meals."
"I'm guessing your parents weren't around a lot."
Freed merely shrugged.
"Maybe in the long run, that's a good thing. You make amazing dinners now."
Freed blushed and tucked his chin down. "Y-you cook well, too."
"I worked in the bar with my grandfather for a time. I learned basic pub grub: sandwiches, burgers, bratwurst. I was pretty damn proud of my green chili cheeseburgers."
"You'll have to make that some day." Freed took a sip of water. "Would you ever want to do that again?"
"Sure, I love a good barbecue."
"I mean, working in the Fairy Tail Pub."
Laxus looked confused by the question. "I've got a good job now."
Freed's brow tensed, and he looked aside.
"Is … is it not good anymore?" Laxus reached across the table and put a hand on Freed's arm in concern. "Hey, tell me if it's no good. Our agreement was that I'd work there only as long as you were okay with it."
"I'm okay," he muttered. "My father … he wants you to quit the club. He ordered…" Freed glanced around in paranoia, but they were alone in this part of the restaurant. "He said, no more kinks people might see, no public sex, never set foot in a club again—"
"He's right," Laxus cut in.
"No! He can't tell you what to do. He … he doesn't have that control over you. Over me, yes, but not you."
Laxus hushed him just as a waiter approached. Freed was in a fluster, but he ordered his Florentine crêpes with Earl Grey tea, Laxus ordered the duck confit benedict with a latte, and the waiter left them in an awkward silence.
"You're right," Laxus said quietly. "That bastard has no authority to demand anything of me. He has no control over my life. But he's got a point."
Freed looked up in protest, but before he could say anything, Laxus cut in.
"The eyes of the world will be on you, Freed. Your company looks up to you with pride. I'm damn proud of you, too." He had a tender smiled; seriously, he was so proud of Freed for accomplishing so much so young. "You shine naturally, and people are gonna see you. Eventually, someone's going to notice that shadow standing behind you."
"You're not a shadow! You're … you're my boyfriend."
He reached across the table and stroked Freed's silver promise ring. "Lightning prefers the dark. I prefer being in the shadows. Still, someone's going to get a picture of us together, maybe eating out like this. Someone's going to recognize me, and hell's gonna break loose one day. If I know the sort of man your dad is, he's got contingency plans set up all over the place, maybe a few strings he can pull in the media. That only works if I'm living a good life, and as much as I can claim I'm just an electrician in a club, the fact is I run demonstrations on the side. Flare has no records of me doing that, she'd never admit to it if asked, and I trust the community that's there. We all know, you don't talk about who you see in the sex dungeons and fetish clubs. Ya just don't! That leaves the South Pole Club and my old clients. Jellal is easy to shut up, there's plenty of shit on him, and I'd bet your father knows precisely which blackmail works best to keep him silent, with a little money in his palm to make sure nothing leaks out. My clients … well…"
"Father wants the names of all of them."
Laxus shook his head. "That ain't happening."
"It's … it's for parties, to not invite them and—"
"I can look over the guest lists and just not show up if I see anything suspicious, but I don't give out names. That's a shit move, and your father should know better."
Freed closed his mouth and looked aside. He had a feeling Llewellyn may have wanted a list of Laxus' clients for more than parties. Blackmail worked well in business.
"I'll discuss that personally with your dad. Fact is, I doubt they will snitch. I can make sure they don't. Or, if my past is ever brought up, I can be honest. I worked in those sorts of clubs, I don't do it anymore, you were my angel who rescued a man drowning in sin."
Freed blushed at being called an angel in public. "That's not how it went."
"Fuck yeah, it was!" shouted Laxus.
Freed quickly hushed him and looked around nervously. One patron a ways down glanced over with a scowl, but otherwise it seemed no one was really listening in.
"Sorry," Laxus muttered, making sure his voice remained low. "Still, that is how it went down, to me at least. I was living with roaches and eating instant ramen. Now I'm in a high class condo and eating frigging duck for breakfast. I was giving lap dances to old bastards. Now I'm in a serious, committed relationship. I had no thoughts of the future. Now … now I…"
He blushed and looked aside in frustration.
Now, he wanted a future with Freed.
Now, he could imagine getting married and growing old.
He never thought about that before.
"I at least have a chance at a good future," he mumbled. "Hell knows what sort of life I might have been living if I had never met you."
He thought about that awful dream about torturing his father. Those sorts of dreams used to be his favorite, savoring the agony in that face he hated so much. Now, even a day later, it made him sick, as well as worried. That had been the only goal for his future less than a year ago. Nothing existed after that revenge. Now, as he looked across the table at Freed, he could imagine themselves old, the green hair turned white, that gentle face lined with noble wrinkles, those eyes still shining at him with even deeper love, decades of a life together.
He kept his voice low. "Last night, you said you need me."
Freed blushed, but he whispered back, "I do."
"And I need you. Desperately! I need you to save me from what I was, what I could end up becoming." He squeezed Freed's hand and stroked his thumb over the promise ring. In a barely audible whisper, he breathed, "I need you more than I could ever say, but I completely understand why your father is worried. If I was in his shoes … hell, I don't know if I'd chance it. If I was him, I wouldn't trust some strip dancer."
"Laxus!"
"Quit the club? Stop doing illegal shit? Be a little more aware of your public status? That's what I should have been doing all along. So long as we can be together, I don't care where I work."
A coy smile struggled up. "Maybe I can see about an opening in the company, like in security or a window washer."
Laxus raised an eyebrow. "Window washer?"
Freed gasped and instantly went pink. "I … I mean … g-groundskeeper? Maintenance? You know, something where they don't care that you never went to college. It's … it's not so bad … working there."
Laxus barked out a laugh. "No. No, it wouldn't be bad. Not at all. I wasn't kidding last night when I said I wouldn't mind being your bodyguard. I guess I could get training as a regular security guard first before taking on a job that important. Not so sure about window washer, though."
"R-right," Freed stuttered, still flustered by that erotic dream.
Just then, their food arrived. Laxus looked down at the plate set in front of him and barely held back exclaiming in a crude way. He looked across the table, hoping Freed would guide him in how to react to food that looked too good to eat.
"The presentation is wonderful. Smells divine," Freed said in praise.
"Agreed. Can't wait to try it," Laxus said, hoping that was enough.
"More tea, please," Freed added.
The server left to get the tea, and Freed daintily unfolded his napkin. Laxus glared down at the plate.
"Is something wrong?" asked Freed.
"I have no clue how the hell you eat this," he admitted in a surly grumble. "Do I use a fork? A spoon?"
Freed stifled a laugh. "You really have never eaten eggs benedict?"
"I was lucky if I could afford an Egg McMuffin, let alone this shit."
"Watch your language," Freed schooled primly. "Cut into the yolk, let it mix with the Hollandaise sauce, then cut a bite-size of the egg, duck, and bread. Just one bite size piece at a time. Don't go slicing it all into pieces like a child. And not huge chunks. Take time to enjoy each bite."
"Which fork?"
"Dear, it's breakfast."
"Oh. Only one here. What are the two spoons for?"
"The one on the outside is a teaspoon."
"Gotcha! All right, let's see what I've been missin' all my life."
Freed watched, not realizing he was holding his breath as Laxus cut open the egg, let the yolk drain into the yellow Hollandaise sauce, cut some of the duck confit, and ate a bite. These were the sorts of meals Freed had grown up with, never thinking twice about it. It was not until he was a teen that he realized normal people did not eat such things every day. Laxus was taking a taste of his world, and Freed really hoped he liked it.
Laxus chewed, swallowed, and stared down at his plate in silence.
"Well?" Freed whispered in anticipation.
Laxus pouted as he glared at the meal. "Food should not be allowed to taste this damn good."
Freed burst into a smile.
"What're you so happy about? Ya look like you cooked it yourself."
"I'm just glad that you like food like this."
"This shouldn't even be classified as food. It's something beyond that. What is this called again? Confit? Do they make this stuff in other meals?"
"It's just a way to fix duck. It's often used in lunch and dinner as well."
"I wanna try it again."
"We can go out to eat another time," Freed said with eagerness.
"Not too often. I'll seriously get spoiled."
The waiter came up with Freed's tea. "Another latte, sir?"
"Yeah, thanks." Laxus cringed, realizing that was hardly a formal way to speak, but the waiter hardly seemed to notice. Maybe a little casualness was actually okay. "I need about five cups of this tiny coffee. I'm guessing they don't use mugs."
Freed smiled at him. "Doubt it. You can keep asking for more, but you'll probably be charged for each cup."
"That's fine, it's not really even my money. How's the crap?"
"Crêpe."
"Whatever."
"It's wonderful."
They fell silent as they ate. Freed glanced across the way at Laxus and smiled bashfully. He remembered the first time they went to an up-scale restaurant. Laxus was utterly helpless. Now, although he was unfamiliar with the food, he had improved on his manners. Besides a few outbursts, his profanity was curbed. He sat up straight, no elbows on the table, placed his utensils properly when not in use, and ate with small bites. There was no way he could have learned this much so quickly without looking up etiquette.
Freed had a moment envisioning Laxus sitting at home while he was working at the office, secretly reading through etiquette blogs. He almost wanted to laugh. Still, Laxus was putting in effort to learn Freed's world. That … was really sweet!
"Isn't this place too much? You usually hate restaurants like this."
"I wanted to treat you. I'm paying this time. Gotta put that money to use."
"The inheritance?"
Laxus rolled his eyes and drank some coffee. "Hush money, plain and simple. The old man left a letter with his lawyer, something the rest of the family didn't know about. Basically, I get the money, funds delivered straight into my bank account, but only if I sign a waiver that if I snitch about what I did, the estate will sue me for the same amount. I'm not gonna snitch, so I signed the agreement."
"How much did you get?"
"Too much," he muttered. "The old man really wanted to keep his untarnished reputation after death."
"Laxus, you should set that money aside, put it into savings, be more economical—"
"Freed," he said, sharply interrupting. "This money … it's client money. Dirty money. I swore I'd never do shit for money again."
Freed saw the anguish in his face and felt sorry for him. "You didn't do anything," he whispered. "I mean, the guy is dead."
"He used to do this. Most of them did. After a night, I'd get hush money, a few hundred in cash usually. They'd say stuff like it's thanks for my hard work or in appreciation for my loyalty, but it was a bribe to shut my mouth. Still, it's like he's thanking me from beyond the grave, and that's scary as hell." Laxus glared down at the plate. "I don't want this money. At all! I thought maybe it'd be cool to get a little extra funds, maybe buy … something…"
He honestly had thought that, if it was enough, he could buy Freed an engagement ring. Then he realized why he was getting that money, and it sickened him. He would buy Freed a ring from money he made honestly, not some inheritance from an old bastard he used to flog.
"I don't want it," he whispered. "I almost didn't sign, but then they'd think I was planning to rat them out, and that wasn't the reason at all. I didn't want to cause a scene with the lawyer by turning down the deal. Besides, I went all that way, left you alone for a night … I wanted compensation, at the very least. I'll spend it on food and booze, stuff I can shit out, because that's what this is. Shit money!"
"Laxus!" Freed scolded, mostly because language like that was inappropriate for a high class restaurant. "I have a better idea. You don't want that money, right?"
"It sickens me," he sneered.
"Then put it to something positive, something that makes you feel good."
"Blue Label," he stated.
Freed rolled his eyes. "I don't mean whiskey. I mean charity. Isn't there a cause you want to support? Cancer research, wildlife conservation, Habitat for Humanity, the Trevor Project, ALS, battered women and children…"
Laxus' eyes shot up to him at that.
"I know of a shelter for abused children and battered spouses. We'll pay for the meal, you can buy a bottle of whiskey if you want, but put the rest to charity. It's a tax write-off as well, so you get the money back but more honestly."
"Money back from the government is always good," Laxus muttered. "All right! But no booze. This money goes to kids. That fucker treated his family like shit in life, so his dirty money can go to help abused families now."
Freed grinned. "That's the spirit! But seriously, stop cursing."
"Sorry," he muttered, taking a drink of coffee to cover over his mistake. "Thanks, Freed. That's a brilliant idea. I expect that much from you."
Freed blushed at the praised and hid his face by sipping some more tea.
Next Chapter: "Shelter From the Storm"
A/N: I made a spoof on Tumblr a while back. You can take it however you like.
http://wildrhov.tumblr.com/post/100112423354
Oh my gawd, I did too much research into gourmet dining for this, and then I went a little crazy cooking meals for a few days. I rarely, VERY rarely, eat at fancy restaurants, and I don't think I've ever been to a French restaurant. I have never had duck, and I'm allergic to eggs, so I've never eaten these meals. It was still fun to look up fine dining dishes.
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Catch the Thunder