Not Another Teen Cosplay

This was originally written on my old account, Rated N For Noodles… thank you to everyone who read and reviewed on it! I've decided to revise it and put it onto this account instead.

History A crackish idea I thought up of walking home from a friend's house. I think we may have been talking about our cosplay costumes for the convention in November, which is what spurred this on.

Warnings Yaoi, crack, AU, OOC and if there's anything else the warning will be in the chapter intro.

Pairings Not definite on these but: onesided AkuRoku, definite Zemyx, definite VikuMaru (if it doesn't have a mention of 411 in it, I didn't write it) and anything else I decide to put in will be announced in the chapter intro.

Enjoy!

Chapter One - Chemistry in Chemistry

"Sweetheart, don't wear your Zexion costume in school; not on the first day at least… Try and make a good impression on the mainstream, try and make some friends…"

That was what his mom had told him as she dropped him outside the gates of his new boarding school. And Ian had decided that maybe she was right. At his old school he'd been shunned by practically everyone for being Organization XIII obsessed. Every day, he'd turn up for class dressed in the infamous black trenchcoat, with his silvery-blue (dyed) hair brushed over one side of his face in Zexion's signature style. Maybe if there had been a single Kingdom Hearts fan in the school, he would have fit in better. But although several of his classmates had played the games, no one was as dedicated to the series as he was.

It wasn't going to be like that at this school, Ian decided. He was going to be a normal, mainstream kid. Sure, he could still like Kingdom Hearts, still play it, still own his cosplay costume, but he wasn't going to let it rule and potentially ruin his life.

His first class ever was Chemistry on a Friday morning, and he turned up for it dressed in a plain blue shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and faded jeans with a pair of black Converse. His hair was all brushed back out of his eyes, save for a few short bits that fell over his face. If his hair wasn't that odd silvery-blue color, he would've looked like any ordinary high school student: exactly the look he was aiming for. His trenchcoat, skinny black jeans and heavy boots that made up the Zexion costume were stowed safely at the back of his wardrobe, but the lexicon was in his backpack. He felt better carrying it around with him at all times.

Ian was a few minutes early for class, but the teacher was already seated at his desk, absorbed in what looked like the morning paper. He stole a glance at the man: pale, lanky, possibly in his early twenties, with long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail and tossed forward over his left shoulder. His piercing green eyes were darting from left to right across the paper from behind slim, stylish glasses, and he was wearing a white lab coat over a black shirt and light jeans.

Vexen, Ian immediately thought, but mentally shook the name from his head and dropped his bag on a desk in the center of the room. He wasn't supposed to be doing that anymore, comparing ordinary people to the members of Organization XIII, but it was a hard habit to quit.

And immediately he was faced with it again: the desk behind the one he had chosen was already occupied. Another student was lounging back in his – or her, Ian couldn't quite tell – chair, twirling a strand of wavy pink hair around a long, slender finger, gazing mischievously at the teacher with midnight blue eyes and smirking ever so slightly.

Marluxia?

Was it just coincidence? Ian forced himself to believe it was. He sat down and turned to face this student, who, to his surprise, was now gazing mischievously at him.

"New classmate?" It was more of a statement than a query, in a voice that was distinctly masculine with a hint of what Ian could only describe as 'cheerleader'. Exactly how he had imagined a Marluxia cosplayer to sound. It was how all of the online ones sounded anyway…

"Yeah… I'm Ian." He stuck out a hand for the boy to shake, but instead the boy took a pen up, snatched Ian's hand and drew an intricate rose on its back in a matter of seconds, the name 'Kris' written neatly within its petals.

"You've officially been tagged," the boy giggled girlishly. Ian smiled, a little nervous of Kris already, and was glad that the teacher had stood up and was ushering the stragglers inside. Class was starting.

Ian had never liked Chemistry, but he was adamant to make an effort in this new school. Unfortunately, this particular Chemistry class wasn't structured at all, mainly because Kris and another few students were so intent on distracting Mr. Fox from his teaching. He was obviously either a student teacher, or an inexperienced one, because he often got flustered with these students, especially and oddly when Kris was involved. Ian found himself thinking of the awkward relationship between Vexen and Marluxia; it did seem like Kris was more in control than Mr. Fox, and Mr. Fox wasn't happy about it. But nothing Kris ever said or did in that class was snide, or nasty, quite unlike the other students. Ian was surprised to find Kris sticking up for the poor professor on more than one occasion.

He was glad for the end of class, and probably wasn't the only one, judging from the defeated, miserable voice Mr. Fox used to announce their homework, or the mad rush to the classroom door. Zexion's meticulous nature had long since rubbed off on him; everything in his bag had to be perfectly organized before he could move on to his next class, and by the time he had finished this, the classroom was almost empty. Mr. Fox was slumped at his desk, and – he groaned inwardly – vivacious Kris was babbling away to a blonde-haired boy still packing his stuff away in the front row. His midnight blue eyes immediately locked with Ian's, and the smirk crossed his face again as he made his way through the rows.

"May I?" he asked upon reaching Ian's side, and before Ian could even open his mouth to respond, he found Kris's hands curled in his hair.

"Ah…! Hey! What the hell?!"

Kris was pulling his hair forward, twisting it, styling it, splaying it across one half of his face, scarily like the way he had been wearing it before… "It looks better this way," he said, his smirk widening.

"But - !" Ian protested in vain.

"I'm sure you're having fun, but could you hurry up and get to your next classes?" Mr. Fox was standing over them, voice soft but icy. Kris grabbed Ian roughly by the arms and turned him to face the professor, smirk widening further.

"Doesn't he look like –" he began, but was cut off by Mr. Fox's stern glare and sharp voice.

"Just go before you get him into trouble!"

Kris let go of Ian's arms to fold his own, pouting. He looked as though he was about to protest, but instead reached for his bag, slung it over one shoulder and slid calmly past Mr. Fox. Ian stood paralyzed for a few moments, until Kris reached the door and turned to face them both once more.

"You owe me later for saving you in class, Vexen," he said silkily, winking before running out. "Wait up, blondie!"

Ian's jaw dropped, not because of Kris's blatant arrogance towards a teacher, not because of the blush creeping up from under Mr. Fox's collar, but because of the last two syllables of the pink-haired student's sentence.

Vexen…?

He left the classroom without a word, unconsciously sparing the teacher his dignity by keeping silent. Under different circumstances he would have questioned, but from that moment on, all through the rest of his classes, his mind was too preoccupied to pay attention to much else. The person he had marked as a Vexen look-alike had actually been called Vexen.

Did that mean Kris was deliberately making himself out to be Marluxia? There was too much evidence to support it: the dyed pink hair, the bubbly, effeminate way he did everything, the flower tag he had drawn on Ian's hand…

And of course, he had called Mr. Fox Vexen, unless Ian had heard wrong, and he sincerely doubted he had.

The former Zexion cosplayer felt a sudden surge of excitement; maybe he wouldn't have to be a former cosplayer for much longer.

It was evening. Dinner had just ended, and Ian had spent it watching Kris and the other sophomores he had been sitting with: the blonde boy he had been talking to after Chemistry class, and two other boys Ian didn't recognize; one long black-haired with silver streaks, the other with short spiked platinum blonde hair.

Xigbar and Luxord…? Ian found himself thinking, almost automatically, just because of their hairstyles. Probably not. It was the noughties; extreme hairstyles were commonplace and often were an expression of individuality, rather than part of a cosplay costume like his was.

He was walking back to his dorm, more specifically trying to remember his way back. All of the corridors looked the same to him at this stage, and the school was so big… He rounded a corner, expecting to find a sign pointing him in the direction of the residential section, but instead came face to face with the classroom he had been in that morning: Mr. Fox's Chemistry room. Usually, this late in the evening, the classrooms were empty, but a light was shining from underneath the door. Ian would have figured that Mr. Fox was sitting in there alone, correcting papers or something… if it wasn't for the volume of noise coming from the classroom. More than one voice was shrieking from behind that door, albeit incoherently. Ian's curiosity got the better of him; he crept up to the door, planning to press an ear to it and listening in. His plans backfired instantly; he expected the door to be firmly closed, but instead it was open just a fraction, enough to swing inwards when he leaned his weight on it. And, naturally, he crashed to the floor as it did so, having foolishly attempted to put all his weight on it. What he crashed in on was the last thing he expected to find, despite the events of the day.

The desks had all been pushed to the back of the classroom, along with most of the chairs, save for… about thirteen of them. And save for one, all of these chairs, arranged in a rough circle, were occupied. Ian recognized every person in the room, not as the people they actually were, but rather as the characters they were dressed as.

He had, quite literally, crashed an Organization XIII meeting. And Kris – Marluxia – was standing over him, that infuriating smirk fixed firmly in place.

Reviews and concrit are welcome; please let me know if you want more or if I'm just wasting my time… Flames are welcome; will be used to roast chestnuts and toast marshmallows

If I'm not wasting my time, please note I won't be able to update that often (I don't get much Internet time…)

Thanks for reading! x