Title: Leftover Tea Leaves

- Why you shouldn't own a Meth Lab, kill your dog, or other Sunday activities.

Author: Birddi

Disclaimer: … This should be obvious.

Summary: Sometimes it just didn't pay to wake up in the morning.

Dedication: To Beutelmaus, a wonderful friend.

Pairings to be explored:

AxelRoxas

RikuSora

SeiferHayner

ZexionDemyx

XigbarTidus

SephirothCloud

MarluxiaLeon

Yeah, you read right. Marluxia semeing Leon. That's right.

It sucked not having the powers of God. It would make mass murder so much easier.

Roxas frowned, but did as instructed without complaint. It would be useless, and impractical to tell off the instructor. He liked to think himself out of the stage of teenage rebellion fits. Instead he slipped the ear buds, which had previously been hanging from the collar of his navy hoodie, into his ears and started towards the track. It helped block out the insulting calls from his so-called peers.

He stopped short of the track, jumping up and down a few times before, bending down in a few stretches. Just because he had no interest in the school, in the stupid track try outs, or in the older males who still taunted his back, didn't mean that he wanted to hurt himself. He wasn't a masochist.

Sadist, yes. That he admitted to. But a masochist, no.

"Oh look, newbie's tryin' to act like he's good."

Roxas didn't even dignify that, or the chuckles that followed, with a look. He didn't want to do this. He flicked his player on and a constant bass met him, and the low crooning of the female singer washed over him, and he started off on his run.

He felt a particularly kinship with the song's lines, "I'm leaving for a destination, I still don't know."

It was ironic considering his current punishment. His current life really.

If he didn't have an audience, he might have chuckled.

Setting himself at a medium pace, he found the songs rhythm to work well for him, the steady techno beat became his run. He hit the repeat button on his small music player, and set off. It wasn't that Roxas didn't enjoy running, far from it, after breaking his wrist it had been the only way to get exercise in his hometown. He had been running in the morning hours around his old neighborhood for years, and while this new town had provided him with better sidewalks, Roxas hadn't seen any reason to leave the comfort of his bed. It was warm.

The brisk pace he was working himself into, helped him breathe, helped him from the sinking feeling that had been dragging at him for the past few weeks. People sucked. He was nineteen and stuck back in high-school, it was from a Twilight Zone rerun.

Roxas found he was running faster, and snorted bitterly.

It messed up his breathing, and likewise his timing. He stumbled. Hearing that crowd's ensuing catcalls of delight over the pounding anthem in his ears, he turned up the volume and started again.

He focused on his breathing, in and out. He listened to the sax, and it made the run easier. The track's red pavement quickly came and disappeared beneath his feet, and Roxas continued his run around the oblong track.

He took a quick glance to the side, the other's were starting apparently.

He turned his eyes back to the track ahead of him, content to leave the other boys alone. Roxas ran past them on the inside track, making sure to keep a good distance away from the rowdy ones. It was too easy to turn and fight. Roxas never had an issue fighting, far from what the stupid idiots might think. It was reigning in the inferno that was his temper that was his problem. If he started fighting, he honestly wasn't sure if he'd stop.

And it wouldn't due anything but aggravate his older brother if he got into a fight in his first few days of school. Cloud was his only home right now, and he needed Cloud's pity right now, as much as he might loathe that knowledge.

He focused on his breathing.

He didn't anticipate anything as he sensed the track to team come up on his right, so the foot that came out to trip him caught him off guard. It was a low trick. Some blonde ran by laughing with his friends. Roxas hit the pavement, smashingly.

He landed on his side, his left wrist tucked instinctively to his chest. A bad habit, that Roxas couldn't seem to shake since he had broken it. The fall had jostled his ear buds, and the steady rhythm beat out next to him, a few inches away from his nose. His shoulder and hip hurt.

Roxas rolled onto his knees, jaw clenched.

Some short brunet, stopped at his side. "Oh man! Are you okay? I don't know what's up with Tidus today but he isn't usually like that. I'm real sorry."

Roxas scoffed, scooped up his player, and stood. He eyed the brunet, panting a bit from his run, though Roxas eyed the quarter of the track that the other must have only just begun to run with a raised eyebrow. Surely the run wasn't that tiring. Loser.

The other didn't seem to catch on, and only ringed his hands and looked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Roxas nodded, trying not to think how much his side hurt, or how embarrassed he was. He new his self-esteem wasn't rising because of it. He didn't want to think which stung worse - his pride or his knee. So he didn't.

He checked over his player, and headphones. He put them back on, and turned for a new song. He hated this. He hated everything, right now, and he wanted to fall into the role of an angst-ridden teenager, but he didn't. As bad as his life seemed right now, and looking for the next few years, he could deal with it.

He'd fucking jack off to deal with frustrations, until he'd worn his dick off, if he had to. But he'd deal with it.

"Yeah," he replied, not caring if his northern accent, slicked with upper echelon roots went unchecked or not. He wasn't even going to pretend to slum it. He slid his gaze to the boy, who looked a bit like him, "Thanks."

A happy giggle met him, "I'm Sora!"

They both turned to face the instructor who had called out to them in warning. Sora blushed, and Roxas resisted the urge to flip the instructor off. The boy was cute, not Roxas's type but cute.

Settling to ignore the man, he turned and nodded to the boy. "Roxas."

Roxas turned back to the track, finding a new song, and started on his run again. Sora was left watching as the blonde took off at a brisk pace, as Roxas still didn't want company.

This song was good, but the beat felt different. He hadn't realized how quick he was running, until he passed the blonde, who had tripped him, and his friends. He didn't stop. Didn't even look at them, they weren't worth it.

He hated where he was. He missed his life, he hated the fact that he couldn't go back. He deplored that he was leeching off his brother, even though Cloud didn't mind. He hated that the only way to relieve some of the financial burden of going to the academy was to get a scholarship in a sport. Good grades apparently were required regardless. He hated, absolutely hated, that he couldn't do gymnastics. He hated it. It tasted like acid.

The song wasn't good enough, and he hit the backwards button without having to look down to do it.

He went back to the first song. He turned it up, and continued to run.

He was starting to tire, but shrugged it off opting to dip back into his ever present ire for the energy to run. He needed to work out his aggression. That's what every counselor he had been dragged to as a child had told him. He wasn't likely to find a nice secluded shower anytime soon. So he put his feet to the pavement and ran, not carrying what lap he was on.

The rest of the world could sod off right now.

So what, if didn't know where he was going.

He doubted the rest of the people in the world did either.

Leon paused. It seemed that the new kid just wouldn't work out with the team willingly. Sure, he heard the taunts from the kids but he knew from experience that it was a hazing process that all runts received. It probably didn't help that the blonde boy was shorter than the rest, or had an air about him that made him seem like such an easy opponent.

Sure, Sora was physically similar, but no one had done anything to him. Hell, it was Sora. You just didn't mess with him, you couldn't. It was like some unwritten rule, and certainly Riku would persecute and crucify anyone who didn't follow that rule explicitly.

But the blonde, Roxas, was different. Leon personally thought it was the vicious glare the midget had. The self-righteous anger and obvious dissatisfaction with everything around him, had even set Leon's teeth on edge, and the group of boys had responded in kind.

The remarks weren't anything too rattling, Leon would have made sure to put a stop if they had gotten bad, but it struck him odd that the boy didn't seem to really respond to it at all. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the blonde seemed to be content to verbally spar with witty comments that had Leon's lip quirking. Who knew someone who looked like a blonde version of Sora could be so snarky. It hadn't been until Seifer, the instigator of this little verbal sparing, had spoken that seemed to set the blonde off.

"Aren't you a prissy lil' thing, sunshine?"

Leon rolled the sarcastic words over, and debated if it was the word sunshine or the reference to his height that had set the blonde boy off. It was always the shorter ones he had thought, wincing at the painful sounding thud of Roxas's fist whipping Seifer's head to the side. They caused the worst trouble.

The blonde hadn't said anything in his defense, nor at the threats Seifer screamed, or at the punishment Leon dole out. Leon ordered Roxas to give him forty laps, a seeming impossibility for newcomers and conditioned runners alike. He had figured the boy would quit actually, just give up and join the sidelines and wait for the practice to end or go home.

He had turned his back to the kid to watch as some of the younger members tried out for the position of high jumper.

When that was over, he had led the group to the track, and much to his amazement was the short blonde, running around the track. Leon unconsciously appraised the younger one's form and noted that it wasn't bad, pretty good if he was being charitable. It was a completely contradiction to the blonde's earlier answer if he had ever done track before. He stepped up to his silver haired captain. "How long has he been at it?"

Riku didn't turn to face him, and Leon wasn't surprised at the blunt disinterest, "I'd say he's on his thirteenth lap."

Leon raised an eyebrow.

So the kid had managed to run the entire time, hm? An extremely impressive feat for someone who claimed to not have any prior training, which made Leon doubt the truth in the kid's answer even more so. He didn't like liars on his team.

"He's good." Turning to his side, he watched as Sora bounded over. Slinging his thin arm's around Riku's waist. Leon watched, as if almost instantly, the previous statue-like Riku transformed into something more human. More warm. It was disconcerting, no many how many times he had watched the stupid miracle.

Leon turned away from them, but he wasn't quick enough to miss as Riku ran his hands though Sora's brown pointed locks and smile warmly at the other. "Aye, brownie."

Leon rolled his eyes at the love-birds, and blew his whistle to gather the group's attention.

Some days it didn't pay to get out of bed.

He needed to get laid.

Cloud sighed inwardly, before hopping up onto the bar. It was sticky with old beer and human sweat. He would have to scrub the bottom of his shoes off before he went home. It gulled him to think about tracking in germs to his cozy apartment. Bending his knees, he rocked his leather clad backside to the music. Placing his hands on his knees he leaned forward, and literally dropped it, as was instructed by the music. Grinding to the side, Cloud rolled his head back in a mock imitation of pleasure.

No one cared for authenticity in places like these.

Spin out, Cloud jumped in pace for dramatics, throwing his hands up while he did, carefully paying attention to the way his boots skidded across the surface of the bar. Tracing his hands around the body, Cloud did as he normally did to keep his mind off the way he made money, made rent.

He made the grocery list.

Pulling his shirt slowly off, peeling the tight cloth off Vaseline rubbed skin. Biting his lips and dropping his head back, he thought of oatmeal. Grinding his pelvis against an invisible partner, he humped the air and played with his nipples briefly before dropping down to bounce low to the floor. Grape jelly, and eggs.

Thank god he was away from the grabby people tonight, small favors and all that. He almost felt bad for Tifa.

They were out of detergent, and they had about two piece of bread left. He would also need to pick up milk, and Roxas would need soy milk.

He rolled his hips, much to his watchers delight, and thought about why someone related to him could ever drink the imitation milk. It wasn't even milk, it was bean juice. He was treated to a mental image of little elves grinding each bean, very much like one would to extract the juice from an orange, and mentally paled. Yuck.

Bean guts!

Talk about disgusting, he heard another wolf whistle as he leaned back and continued on with his part dance part strip tease.

They needed butter, too.

Maybe he would spoil himself and pick up some ice-cream.

Let me know what you think, and want to see in the future. Maybe I'll add it in as I don't have a really clear idea of what I want out of this yet.

Cheers!