A very confused Marluxia sat on his bed, frowning at a small, brightly wrapped gift beside him. There was no card or sign of the intruder who had so kindly left it; the Graceful Assassin was flummoxed.

"Where's that stupid calendar?" he muttered to himself, standing and crossing to his dresser to rat through the drawers, assuming that there might be some sort of special occasion he was unaware of. Not knowing who might have left him something was going to drive him mad, and there was no way he would open an anonymous gift. Finally, with a triumphant "Ha!", he produced the pocket-sized calendar Xemnas had given him as a housewarming gift of sorts. Marluxia snorted at the memory--left in charge of all of Oblivion AND its residence, and all he had gotten for his help was a lousy calendar. One of the six month planners, from June to December. What the hell use is one of those?

Focusing on the task at hand, Marluxia scanned through the section of November, trying to figure out the date.

Ah, the forth.

Wait, what?

As far as the pink haired man knew, there was nothing special about today. Nobodies did not have birthdays; there was no "Hallmark holiday" for Zexion to get all sappy over. Sitting down again, the poor assassin gazed helplessly at the box, torn between insatiable curiosity and common sense. The gift did seem innocent and unobtrusive.

Finally caving in, Marluxia hesitantly lifted the box, giving it a gentle shake. There was a crinkling of tissue paper, a dull, thudding rattle and nothing. No ominous ticking or hissing; it behaved just like a gift should.

"Well, it doesn't sound dangerous," the man reasoned to himself aloud, absently plucking at one of the blue ribbons. It seemed to him that the only way to know if what awaited him was safe would be to take a quick peek. The ribbon fell open with a light tug, pooling prettily about the pink, glittery box. Someone knew his favourite color scheme.

Tense and apprehensive, Marluxia sat well back from the box, kicked one of his knee-high boots off. Slowly, carefully, and taking full advantage of his nimble toes, he peeled the lid from the box.

And he waited, his tongue between his teeth.

When the gift did not explode or catch fire, he slowly inched closer to it, peering in for a glimpse of this mystery present. To his mild annoyance, tissue covered whatever had given the thud when he had shaken it. Expecting the worst, Marluxia reached into the box--if he had a heart, it would have been pounding in his ears. His fingertips wrapped around a long, thick, rubbery object. Holding his breath, he slowly began to lift it into view.

Only to be interrupted by a knock at his chamber door. He swore, dropping the mystery object back into its package.

"I'm busy!" Marluxia snapped, irritated by the intrusion. Well, he would have been irritated, if he could. Nonetheless, he faked it well enough.

Unbothered by the man's snappiness, Vexen, an arctic blond with a temperament to match, glided through Marluxia's door, glaring from heavy-lidded eyes.

"That is no way to address your Superior," the blond retorted, cold as the element he was associated with. To his amazement, Marluxia did not rise to the bait, already focused on the box again. Vexen cleared his throat for attention. When he did not get it, unsurprisingly, he stomped to Marluxia's side. "What's in the box?" Vexen demanded with a frown.

The assassin shook his head. "I was just about to find out when you barged in. Now go away," he murmured, reaching in again. The academic ignored him, sitting down on the bed and leaning close to watch.

"Are you sure it's not dangerous?" he inquired, not really sounding bothered by the mystery package, or even very interested.

Marluxia waved a hand to silence Vexen. "Yes, now shut up."

Drawing his hand out through the tissue, his confusion only grew. What he held appeared to be…

"…Who on earth would get me a vibrator?"

As if to answer the Assassin, Vexen laughed while plucking the toy from the younger man's grasp with an amused look on his face. One arm snaked around Marluxia's waist.

"Don't you know what day it is?" he sighed, smiling in a way that made the assassin suddenly very, very tense. The fourth of the eleventh….

"Don't even think about it, Vexen--" Marluxia started, cut off by a rough squeeze on his rear and a purr from the academic.

"Happy 4-11 day, Marluxia. Tonight, it's my turn to be in charge."