In The Kitchen
by: Strike To Incinerate
Disclaimer: Still don't own. Do I have to say this in every fanfiction I write? Will people think that I suddenly gained the majority shares of Square Enix and Disney if I don't? NU. I. Dun. Own. Nuffin.
Warning: Um... not a lot of crack. Naughty innuendos using innocent candy. That's about it.
Pairings: MarZex. That's it. Maybe there's implied AkuRoku...? I dunno.
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How hard could it be to lay a piece of turkey on some rye bread?
Apparently, very hard. Zexion was concentrating on it like it was a bomb about to explode. It wasn't like Demyx was going to complain if the turkey wasn't in the sandwich properly; he'd just squeal in happiness knowing he was going to get his damn 'sammich'.
Finally, touch-down. The piece of turkey lay perfectly ruffled on top of the lettuce and mayo, like something out of an Oscar Meyer commercial. Now, for the cheese...
A pair of slender arms encircled him at the waist. He jumped, startled by the assassin, and dropped the square slice of yellow. Smooth hands that usually held a scythe or the stem of a flower brushed across Number VI's hips.
Zexion frowned, fighting a blush. "Go away..." he mumbled.
A soft breath fell on his ear, a light laugh. "You're not busy," the Graceful Assassin murmured.
"I am busy. The cookies..." He started to slink away from the brunette, "are going to burn."
Marluxia released him. "I'll get them." He picked up an oven mitt, and in a flash, he had whisked the cookies from the oven and set them on the counter.
"Thank you," the violet haired waif said grudgingly, "for saving my cookies." The cookies were actually for Axel. Zexion had only agreed to make them out of fear that Number VIII would burn the castle down.
"I didn't know you liked cookies," Marluxia said, advancing on him again. He leaned forward, his bangs falling delicately in front of his eyes. "I thought you preferred pickles." He finished, with a slight grin.
Marluxia was fruitier than a bag of skittles.
And Zexion was about to taste the rainbow.
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End.