And yup. Another one. But this one actually stands a chance of being updated weekly, as it's based on my real-life volleyball misadventures. Since it is based on my team (which is named "We Try Hard" for a reason), and I have weekly games... I will have new material for this every week. You'll probably be getting two chapters this week, though. Gotta include what happened during my last match, after all!

Volleyball is a lot of fun, and I've been playing it forever. Since elementary school, which makes it... about fourteen years now. And despite the fact that I only play it recreational, the league and players are all very serious about having fun. It can get surprisingly dangerous, too. Especially for the sideliners. Like Rogue will be. Plus the comedic potential is HIGH.

Thanks go to Eien ni Touko, for insisting I write this odd little comedy, and to everyone else who has listened to me rant about what happened this week at volleyball.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.

"No, Sting."

A whine escaped the blond man's throat as he pleaded with his best friend of over a decade. "Please, Rogue? Do it for me? For our friendship? We're bros, aren't we?"

Glaring, the red-eyed brunet hissed, "We are in no way related and I am not playing on your team, Sting. I am just not interested in volleyball. How many times do I have to say it for it to percolate into your brain?!"

"But that's not what I'm asking this time!" With an enthusiastic wave of his arms, Sting continued, "We're cool on the team members. Only three guys are allowed max on the court anyway, to make it fair. I have all the guys I need, with me, Orga, Rufus, and Dobengal playing pickup. Natsu said one of his female players might be willing to play with us for our main games, and Millianna said she could sub for when we have to play against Natsu's team, or if they're playing on the other court."

"So then what are you asking of me?"

"We just need someone to be the referee and scorekeeper!" Sting explained.

This only seemed to annoy the other man. "Why would I ag- when I don't even like volleyball - agree to come to all the games, only to not play?"

Sting groaned in frustration. "Because you'd be doing me a huge favor and I'd owe you? We've been having a lot of trouble because the teams can't agree on carries and stuff. And for some reason, none of us can count to save our lives."

Rogue's eyes softened slightly, though wariness still clouded them. "You're twenty-two, Sting. What do you mean you can't count?"

He gave his longtime friend a helpless gesture. "I dunno man. Between my team and the other teams, there's over fifty or sixty years of higher education on those courts but none of us can count accurately. Seriously, I don't get it. We even have accounting majors - you'd think at least they'd be able to but nooooo... Anyway, we really need the help."

Crossing his arms, Rogue, inquired, "Exactly why do you play this - and I use the term lightly - sport, again? Honestly, I would have had you pegged for basketball or something similar. Something with a higher difficulty rating."

With a raised eyebrow, Sting replied frankly, "Beach volleyball. Obviously."

He really should have seen that one coming. Sighing, Rogue shook his head at his roommate.

"Hey!" Sting protested. "It's not what you think!" After a moment's pause, while he ran through what he'd just stated, Sting then amended, "Okay, so maybe partially for the reason you're thinking of. But have you ever tried to play volleyball on freaking sand before? It's hard. Really, really hard. You get no purchase when you move, and no lift when you jump and half the time your feet get scalded. Also, sand in uncomfortable places. I believe that says it all."

"Sting, I don't even know the rules of volleyball."

"I'll give you a crash course. C'mon! Help me out, here!" Sting's mouth twisted into a smirk, his eyes glinting knowingly. "There's a lot more girls than guys playing." Seeing that he hadn't yet convinced Rogue, he added, "Cute ones. In shorts. Tight shorts. Yoga pants. And close fitting tank tops and sports bras."

With a roll of his eyes, Rogue dropped his arms and turned to walk away. "I'm not a pervert like you, Sting. Find someone else."

"Don't do this to me, man! Minerva is going to kill me if I don't get a scorekeeper today! The game starts in like, twenty minutes and there's no time to find anyone else!"

Rogue paused, and glanced at Sting over his shoulder. "Minerva is on your team? As in Minerva Orlando? What were you thinking, recruiting that psycho?"

Sting shrugged. "She's athletic, likes volleyball, and we needed more girls. Plus, she's got a wicked serve, to boot."

Running a hand through his hair, Rogue let out another long suffering sigh. "Fine. Just for tonight. And you'll owe me. Big time, Sting. I mean it." He pivoted, and began to walk in the direction of the campus gym. "You had better give me that crash course quick."

Swift steps sounded behind the brunet as the blond caught up. "Awesome! Thanks! Okay, you don't need to know the rules too much for tonight - we can police ourselves for the most part this time. Mostly just keep score; that's what we always argue on. Now, we're up against Cobra's team and they have a tendency to add on points... it's rally scoring by the way."

What was rally scoring?

"Also, there's three matches to a game. Or was it three games to a match?" Sting looked up at the sky as if it would provide answers.

It didn't.

With a shake of his head, Sting switched topics. "So... ceiling balls. This is the only league I've ever encountered where it's a dead ball if it hits the ceiling, or one of the pipes that hang down. Probably because whenever the ball does touch the ceiling, the insulation stuff floats down and you don't want that shit in your lungs..."

Rogue was already regretting this.

Let me know what you guys think! By the way - there will be very few, if any, embellishments. This is pretty much all shit that has happened in real life. Also, the gym details are all completely accurate and true to the gym I play volleyball in. Really.