Author's note: So this is actually for Zemyx day, I'm just going to be out of town (hehe, that sounds so official) on Thursday, so this is a couple days early.
This is fluff, and short, and very action-description heavy (it might help to try to act out what's being described if you can't get it from just reading). I wrote this a while ago. Quality not guaranteed. This is also very sappy, and possibly adorable. This is not within game canon - some sort of normal life AU? I guess.
Anyway, read on.
Demyx was lying on the couch, laptop on his lap, wrists bent oddly with elbows touching the seat and bare feet shoved into the blankets at one end. His eyes were half closed, and he looked warm and sleepy, muscles languid and loose. His fingers were moving with an odd stumbling quickness, too many ideas in his head but not enough energy to type them, to pin them to the computer screen like butterflies to a corkboard.
Zexion smiled, a faint curl upwards in the edges of his mouth, and leaned over him, careful not to look at the screen - Demyx had never liked people seeing his songs before he was finished - and kissed his nose. His loosened tie hung down and brushed cold against the bare skin of Demyx's stomach where his shirt had ridden up.
Demyx grinned tiredly and looked up at him, almost instinctively half-closing the computer. Zexion sighed and closed it all the way, the faint metallic click of the latch engaging echoing in the space between their bodies. Demyx rolled his eyes and shoulders, scrunching and expanding like a worm to a sitting position. The computer slipped, balanced on the side of one leg, and overbalanced just as Demyx caught it with a snatch of fingers. He grinned sheepishly, maneuvering it onto the table with bent wrists and elbows, joints flexing with the weight. Zexion pushed the corners of the laptop further away from the edge of the table, rolled his eyes fondly, and sat on Demyx's knees.
Demyx squawked and jerked upwards, knees bending and pushed down again by Zexion's weight. Zexion smirked, then lost the smirk to a silent startled gasp as Demyx grabbed his elbow and pulled him down to rest his head on Demyx's chest, neck at an odd angle and trapped by warm arms. When Demyx noticed the awkward position of his head that would result in cramps, he laughed, a pale rumble in his lungs, and slid down to a more horizontal position. His head was knocked forward at an angle, chin resting on his collarbone. Zexion gave up on his futile token resistance and curled his legs up so his shoes were cold on Demyx's shins.
Demyx laughed again, head pushing against the cushion of the armrest. Zexion snorted back, fingers curling into the tie-dye of Demyx's shirt, and attempted to shuck the shoes off his feet with his toes. The first shoe wriggled off his feet with only a catch at toe and heel, leather sliding off the couch to land with a quiet thump on the carpet. The second shoe, however, wouldn't cooperate with his one-socked-foot, and a soft growl rippled across his vocal chords until he gave up and sat up. When the shoe was successfully removed from his foot, it was swiftly introduced to the wall across the room with another soft thump.
Flopping back onto Demyx's chest, strings cut, Zexion sighed and curled his toes around the torn hems of Demyx's baggy jeans. Demyx grinned softly and wove his fingers into Zexion's hair, flexing his feet at the same time, ankles tensing, toes spreading, cold feet brushing against soft socks. When he spoke, Demyx's voice was soft, calming, trying to soothe bristles before they appeared.
"How was your day?" he asked quietly, rubbing his fingertips along Zexion's scalp, gentle and smooth.
Zexion sighed again, and leaned unconsciously into cool fingers. His answer was too-quiet and muffled, mouth pressed into multi-colored cotton and lips barely moving. "Not the absolute mire and slog I thought it might be." What he didn't say was it was better and worse than he thought it was, amounts of paperwork that should be measured in tonnes and Saïx finding fault with anything. He'd been more vindictive than usual, sick sadistic glee twisting his lips and too-sharp teeth into leers that promised retribution in paperwork on whomever cringed at his presence.
Demyx hummed and kept rubbing his scalp, oddly warm and comforting after the stiffness of his desk chair. Zexion relaxed by increments, letting the fingers in his hair tangle and massage until his toes curled and uncurled, the bone-deep weariness settling into his jaw and hips, pulling at him with lapping waves of exhaustion. The warmth beneath him breathed, and seeped upwards in soft cotton and fingers calloused from sitar strings and computer keys.
Zexion asked, lips catching on worn threads, sound whispering against fabric, "How's the song?"
Demyx sighed, a rush of air breathing past Zexion's forehead and caressing the dip in his nose. He shifted, hips tilting, knees clanking, and his toes stretched upward again like they could bend to touch his shins. "It's not bad."
Zexion waited in silence, ear over the thud of Demyx's heart. Steady beats, slow and present, parallel to the rise and fall and even breaths under his ribcage. When Demyx took a breath to speak again, mouth opening and air sighing out in the shapes of words, Zexion smiled, and tightened his fingers on the ridges of cloth. Drips of melody, hummed in quiet vibration, fingers tapping out rhythms on lilac hair, words mouthed without air.
Zexion let it drop him into sleep, ripples spreading into waves into stillness.