Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.

It almost scares him that as he slowly filters into Fairy Tail's scene and loses the war before he even began the battle in keeping them at a distance, he realizes how oddly fearful he is of touch.

When Natsu was doing his damn best to melt and corrode the iron scales over his jaw just so he could unhinge the skin and bone underneath, it was simple.

Now it's all camaraderie as Dragneel's lanky arm tries to throw itself over his shoulders that are too broad. He's a lot shorter than Gajeel, and maybe one day he'll have a hope of being just a few inches shorter, but at that moment it looks a lot more like a half hug from an errant child hanging from his neck.

It's almost jarring when Juvia brushes her hand over his shoulder as she monotones a warning for him to behave as she leaves on another mission with Natsu's team - instead of glaring at him through the icy cut of her eyes and practically hissing her distaste in the noise of the storm she had brewed up the day she joined Phantom Lord. The only thing that came close to the now of Fairy Tail during the shared then of Phantom Lord, it was him being on the short list of Jose's puppets that she didn't try to wash down the gutter for questioning her rank.

Those assholes chose to be stupid enough to incur her wrath and that was on them.

Nothing short of white, hot fear courses through his system when he goes from cackling at the sound of empty rounds and depleted magic helplessly clicking in the air from the sharp shooters' guns to listening to Alzack talk about the places he's lived and how the dragon slayer ought to take his own tour of the winding deserts in Earthland - when, suddenly, there's a very tiny fist tugging at the frayed end of his glove. Asuka Connell stretches from her mother's lap over to Gajeel, determined and demanding to get his attention with the tugging and a furrow on her brow as she calls him 'hombre' over and over again. He gulps at the sight of the smooth, pale skin of her fingers stuttering over his darker, rougher ones.

She hasn't known the clouds that plagued his horizon - won't ever know the hate and terror that twisted her parents' faces as they stood back to back with their hands clasped tightly together when their ammo was out and Phantom Lord reigned over them.

In that same vein, Wendy will only see him as someone to look up to and it's not so bad. The list of things he'd pull in a fight to get the upper hand was long, but so was the list of unspeakable acts even he couldn't - refused - to act out and it wasn't in any way a consolation or a way to avoid total crushing guilt for his depraved soul. There's just something in the way she timidly looked to him in her first days of knowing him, sort of hollow from having two families just disappear before her eyes, but still a light that's strong and fierce and even a little bit challenging flashes there as she learns that he's the oldest first generation dragon slayer.

The sheer force of her embraces she's still naive to, but sooner or later he and Natsu are going to have to inform her that she's the damn embodiment of wind and air and they only have so much in 'em for her to knock out.

God, is he glad those two will not ever have to learn pain and fear from him at their ages.

Part of him thinks that's the hardest part, easing hurt in younger ones. Romeo kept close to his father and Natsu, when the younger dragon slayer wasn't out on missions, any time Gajeel occupied a booth in the guild like a plague. It was something he would have to bear and, for once, he's appreciative that Natsu was hellbent on not only living, but keeping Black Steel Gajeel evenly matched in that final fight.

He finds his own way of trying to settle things with a kid who saw him almost take out his idol.

He's just quietly minding his business - except absently keeping his ears perked for any turns in conversation that may be inappropriate for Wendy - picking his way through a meal he ordered from Mira at the bar, when the shock of dark hair appears at his elbow. There Romeo Conbolt is, jutting his chin up and offering his fist to the older man. Gajeel carefully knocks his knuckles against the kid's, mindful of the force and the studs on his gloves. He nods his head for him to move along, smirking in return to the grin he's being offered.

This one, he's a little more prepared for as Romeo had started eavesdropping on his conversations with Natsu about using flame magic and Gajeel, knowing he was lurking around, hadn't told him to scat.

It was easier to take the weighted punches from Jet and Droy than their halfhearted shoving as a punch to him from Elfman in the middle of a friendly guild brawl careens him too close to their table. The fire of anger alighting their eyes as his shoulder was dislocated hurt a lot less than Jet clutching his hand and hauling him out of some form of destruction or another by his arm.

Their grins are nothing short of conspiratory when Shadow Gear and Gajeel and Lily meld to one team and he's absolutely bewildered by the taste of acceptance.

Earthland itself lodges in his throat with enough force to rock his head when Levy takes up shifting closer to him and squeezes his shoulder or elbow. He knew how to play the silent treatment game from before and was fairly adept at making himself invisible, nothing but a passing shadow to and from the mission board so she could return to talking, laughing, breathing.

But this is different.

He can't imagine what he does to be on the receiving end of her beaming everything when it does change from cowering behind corners and trying to shrink the size of his existence for her sake. Something in her touch short circuits and freezes and breaks him when her thin fingers brush over his hand. Something in her touch brings him back to life in the deep waters - figuratively and literally.

Now, she makes maps of him. In the dead of night and when she's supposed to be asleep, using what she thinks are subtle and unknown attentions as he slumbers on.

He nearly gasps at the small warmth of her palm on his cheek and he finds himself reaching out to reciprocate instead of letting that job be solely her initiative. The cool metal of the ring on his hand raises goosebumps on her skin as he holds the arm she has stretched across his t-shirt. He's terrified, but he welcomes the bashful fidgeting that ensues when she realizes she's been caught. He touches back, methodically because she's so damn ticklish in too many places he's liable to get kicked or hit from her knee-jerk reactions. His hand moves up her arm to ghost his fingers in circles over her shoulder.

It takes a longer time for his reciprocation to become any semblance of smooth in the loosest of definitions and tonight is only by years and years of practice. His wide learning curve and hours of hesitant exploration are patiently, graciously endured by her when his only experience of welcomed touch in unconditional love or freeing happiness was with a dragon covered in iron scales that held up against denting or shattering.

In the dim light of dawn peeking through the window shades, he can see the megawatt smile she seems to keep at the ready at all hours of the day. While her smile is nothing short of mesmerizing and what really makes him feel that he is a better man worthy of her, he wants to close the distance between them so it's possible for him to cradle the back of her head and trace her nose with his before pressing his mouth to the spot under her eye, above her cheekbone.

A/N: Usually a piece this short would be lopped in with the oneshot collection, Roots That Will Bind, but I wanted it to be a stand alone piece like my early nalu works. This is an extremely heavy-handed oneshot, I've been in the mood for dramatic poetics lately.