Seven Daisies

by Zxel

It's been a long time since Zexion saw such hopefulness in the slums. He can't decide whether to be impressed or annoyed. He settles on annoyed, since he has allergies, and even this one measly daisy is making him want to sneeze. Lexaeus/Zexion, AU.

Notes: This is an alternate universe piece, in which the Organization characters are living in the Final Fantasy VII universe. Zack and Demyx are cousins, and, for the sake of the story, I've made Lexaeus and Cissnei siblings. Yes, I know she was found in a foster home. Apparently, so was he.

Seven Daisies

"Are you planning on working all evening?" Demyx asks, pausing with his fingers still touching the book shelf.

Zexion hesitates where he stands, a book in each hand. He had actually been planning to work for as long as possible, but the way Demyx says it makes it seem a lot more pathetic than it did in his head. There's no point in pretending that he wasn't going to spend another night re-shelving, when he has nothing else to do. "Actually..."

"Oh, come on," Demyx sighs, falling into the usual routine of trying to pester Zexion into being "one of the guys". Zexion knows that his co-worker's main goal has been to drag him to a bar for at least two months now. To Demyx, who spends all his free time in the Dragoon, belting out songs and partying with Xigbar and his boys, it must seem unfathomable that Zexion has no interest in clubbing.

"The books will still be here in the morning," the boy - Zexion is unable to think of him as a man, though he's possibly older than Zexion himself - persists. "It's not like anyone's going to steal them."

"Of course they'll be here in the morning," Zexion agrees. "Properly shelved all."

Despite the fact that Zexion has just refused him for what must be the thousandth time, Demyx's face lights up in a smile. "It's so hard to take you seriously when you talk like you belong in one of these."

He taps the books. They are in the historical section, and Demyx's point is not lost on Zexion.

"Don't be anti-intellectual," he chides, but Demyx knows him better than to take him seriously. It took months to get to that point, but they've managed to learn a bit about each other somehow.

"Whatever, dude," Demyx laughs, saluting him for his persistence. Or possibly his pitiful-ness. "You are going to meet Zack someday, though, if I have to drag him in here."

Zexion's lips twitch but he doesn't react. Demyx slaps him rather hard on the back and his shoes click on the floor when he leaves. Returning to work, Zexion can't help but think that there's little chance of running into Demyx's cousin in a library, of all places. He's only known SOLDIER to be crude, in his experience, though he's sure that Demyx is too naive to realize that most of Shinra's security division are nothing but brutes with fat paychecks. Plainly speaking, if he ever ends up in a bar with Demyx, his motivation certainly won't be to meet this Zack guy.

Although it's early yet, Xaldin doesn't stop Demyx from leaving. They all know that the chances of having a customer are slim. They are, after all, working in a library in the slums of Midgar. Under the plate, reading is hardly a priority. The only thing they've got lent out right now is a copy of LOVELESS.

Zexion sighs and finishes up the alphabetization of the non-fiction section. It isn't long before the lights dim outside and Xaldin leaves. Though he's in charge of the library, he also knows that Zexion basically runs it. That, and the chances of anything bad happening, such as a robbery, are very slim. No one wants literature in under-plate Midgar. You couldn't sell a stolen novel for five gil here.

It's a few more hours before Zexion finishes cleaning up and another one before he decides that the silence in the large building is too deafening to read through. He's packing a few books into his bag when the customer enters; it takes him a few seconds to recognize the foreign sound of the bell.

"Can I help...?" his voice falters as he turns toward the hulking man. Surely, he thinks, he is now going to be mugged. But the man doesn't make a move to hurt him, just nods gruffly. Zexion glances toward the bag he left on the front counter anyway, and hopes that he still has some spare potions in there just in case.

"Which is the non-fiction section?" the man asks, towering over Zexion, who has to consciously squash down the panic rising within him.

"On the left," he manages, not quite succeeding in peeling his eyes off of the man as he strides away. He's large. Larger than Xaldin, who is the biggest person Zexion has ever encountered. As judgemental as it may be, Zexion is surprised to see this giant of a person in a library.

The hulking man returns to the counter with a few books in his arms. Zexion is further surprised to see the selection. They are all good reads, intellectual reads, and Zexion feels a pang of guilt for, and forgive the pun, judging a book by its cover. He doesn't say anything about it for fear of insulting the man. The last thing he needs is to offend someone thrice his size.

"Do you have a card?" Zexion asks, though he knows the answer. He remembers everyone who enters the library, not that it is a large group, and he would certainly have remembered this person.

"I do not," the man replies gruffly. Despite his rumbling voice, he doesn't seem to be losing patience. It's odd. Most everyone in lower Midgar is in a hurry.

"The first is free," Zexion explains, feeling extremely short when he tries to meet the man's eyes. He slides a card and a pen across the table. The man signs quickly and neatly, and Zexion ignores how their fingers brush when he takes the card back. He feels inferior because of the slightest gesture, as the man's hands are much larger than his own.

He writes down the man's name - Lexaeus - and then the titles of the books, then slides the card over again. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Lexaeus says politely, gathering his books up and exiting. Zexion cannot help but watch him go, thinking that he will probably never see such a sight again.

He shakes his head, paws his slate-gray hair back into order, and closes up shop.

The slums are cluttered and dark, but he's used to them. He's only been above the plate once, and the sense of agoraphobia had been dizzingly overbearing. He prefers sector 5, his small apartment, his piles of discarded junk. Though he's aware of the dangers offered by the streets, he feels comfortable walking home. After all, he has nothing of value on his person, and the only other being he can see on this whole street is a young girl with her hair done up in a large, pink bow. Zexion figures he can handle her, should she attack.

She approaches him, but not with an intention to maul him. "Wait, sir! Would you like a flower?"

Holding the flower in question up in her hands, she gives him a winning smile. It is a pitiful thing, probably because it hasn't seen proper sunlight in its life. It flops in her hands uselessly, any perkiness it might have had while in the ground long lost.

Despite her despondent flower, the girl's smile is bright amid the junk and rust. "Only five gil."

"Sorry," Zexion says dismissively.

"Okay. Three gil, then," the girl replies, as though price is the issue. "It's not important how much you pay, but I'm trying to fill the slums with flowers."

It's been a long time since Zexion saw such hopefulness in the slums, and never in someone who wasn't a child. He can't decide whether to be impressed or annoyed. He settles on annoyed, since he has allergies, and even this one measly daisy is making him want to sneeze.

"That's nice," he says, trying to leave.

The girl forces the flower into his hands, continuing to smile at him. He stares at it blankly, as if it is a particularly intrusive child covered in germs. The girl puts her hands on her hips like a mother amused with a petulant child. Zexion doesn't know whether he is offended or not.

"You can have this one for free, I guess," she says, "but only because I know you have someone special to share it with."

He doesn't. "Thank you."

He just wants to get home to his apartment. His apartment which is, as he has just been painfully reminded, pitifully empty.

"Have a nice evening," the girl tells him, running back to her flower cart.

Zexion has never seen the likes of it before. Where on earth did this girl get all these flowers in sector 5? How on earth is she so perky? He watches, bemused, as her braid bounces behind her. He still isn't sure how to feel.

When he gets home, he takes one of his few clean glasses, fills it with slum water, and puts the daisy in it. It sits mildly on his kitchen counter, just being a flower. Zexion has no idea whether it's a good thing or not.

------

He goes to church the next day. It's not on purpose; he just sort of wanders there because the library is closed on Sundays. It's not as if anyone goes to church anymore, so the building is deserted and broken, but it's still the prettiest thing in the slums. Zexion sits on a pile of rubbish and watches it. Perhaps, he thinks, a miracle will happen and he'll get to witness it.

It's a cold day. He hugs his coat tighter around him, but it does little good. He's had the same coat for six years, and it's starting to show.

There's a kid outside the doors of the church, playing with a discarded infantryman's helmet. Zexion watches him toss it into the air over and over until the boy finally notices him. He catches the helmet and gives Zexion a scrutinizing look.

"Are you here for Aerith?"

"No," Zexion replies. He's never heard of any 'Aerith'. For all he knows, it's the boy's imaginary friend.

"Oh," the boy says, losing interest. "I thought you might be her boyfriend."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Despite himself, Zexion smiles. He nudges some trash aside and leans back, pulling his copy of LOVELESS from his jacket pocket and flipping it open. It belonged to someone else before him, and their theories are scribbled across it, along with his own.

There isn't much light under the plate, but it's enough to read by for anyone who's used to it. For a while, Zexion sits and immerses himself in the script, with the clang of the helmet hitting the ground filling the silence.

"There you are."

The voice is familiar, soft, and pulls him from his reading stupor in a surprisingly gentle way. Not that Zexion isn't annoyed regardless. The flower girl is back, cart in tow.

"Hello," Zexion says, trying to sound polite as he pockets his book.

"Did you come to see me?" the girl asks, tilting her head.

"No," Zexion replies honestly. "I didn't know you were here."

She doesn't seem put off. "I see. Well, it's nice to meet you again. I'm Aerith."

"Zexion," he offers. There's one mystery solved. He looks across Aerith's shoulder, but the boy is gone. The helmet is discarded in the dirt.

"Here's a flower, then, for your name," she says, pulling a flower from her cart and handing it to him. He takes it, too distracted to fuss over it.

"Did you plant the other one?" she pries.

Zexion blinks. He can't think of anywhere he might successfully plant anything. "It's in my kitchen."

Aerith pouts at him, and Zexion feels immensely guilty for some reason. He glances away again, wondering where the boy got off to, and what greets him makes him jump in surprise. Lexaeus is leaning against the far wall of the church. Today he is dressed in an immaculate suit and tie, with his curly hair back in a ponytail, but there can be no mistaking that distinctive profile. He sees Zexion staring and salutes him, a small smile on his lips. Zexion blushes for reasons he can't fathom and turns his attention back to Aerith. Though, of course, his thoughts stray to Lexaeus. What is he doing in the slums, dressed like that?

"You see something?" Aerith asks curiously.

Zexion instinctively glances up, but Lexaeus is gone. "Uh... no. I guess not."

He forces himself to focus on Aerith after that, though he can't help but wonder why this mysterious guy keeps following him around.

------

Monday begins strangely, with an odd man dressed in a lab coat and sporting a gleaming Shinra badge arguing with him over the author of a book. Apparently this man, who Zexion swears he's never heard of before, is the true author of over half the books on mako in the library. However, since his blond, stringy hair is mussed beyond reason, and one green eye is twitching in agitation, Zexion is inclined to question his sanity. Scientist types...

"Sir, it says Hojo on the cover," Zexion explains. "I'm sure this person would credit you if any of the research was yours."

"This is an outrage is what it is." The man's badge reads, 'Vexen'. Zexion can read it when he slams his hands onto the counter. "I'm starting to think that Hollander was in his right mind! I will be speaking to people about this. People more important than you!"

With that, Vexen storms out, leaving Zexion highly confused. The library is not connected to any other companies. They barely have books. He doubts that anyone Vexen might complain to will actually care.

"What was that?" Demyx pipes up, watching the old man leave.

"I haven't a clue," Zexion answers with a shrug.

Demyx waltzes over to the counter, like a puppy vying for attention. Zexion sighs, preparing himself for what is sure to be a grueling conversation.

"Guess what happened to me last night?" The bait is laid out. Zexion has no inclination to take it, but he does anyway.

"You went partying with your cousin until dawn?" he guesses. "You laid waste to the upper plate with your Rock and Roll?"

"Well, yes to the last part. But Zack's off in Nibelheim, and even if he were here, he's always busy with his new girlfriend," Demyx mock-laments, though his smile is wider than ever. "Something better."

Zexion is fully unprepared for what follows.

"Last night... I got... " Demyx grins, drawing out the suspense. To his shame, Zexion finds himself leaning forward in interest. "A boyfriend."

Zexion hesitates, blinking rapidly. He can't think of anything to say. What creature on the planet could put up with Demyx long enough to be boyfriends with him?

"Oh," he mutters, because he really can't come up with anything else.

"I know you're jealous, babe," Demyx intones sympathetically. "But Xigbar's much more my type."

Zexion inexplicably thinks of his mysterious, red-headed stalker, leaning against the wall of Aerith's church. He is not jealous. If he had to pick a "type", it would be less like Demyx and much more like...

"Will you two get back to work?" Xaldin snaps, sending Demyx scurrying away with a yelp and a gleeful expression on his face. Zexion loses his train of thought.

Demyx circles around the bookshelves and re-emerges to pester him some more. Zexion is rather depressed that someone like Demyx, who is the least intelligent person he knows, has no trouble finding a date when he is pathetically shelving books all day. It's so unfair.

"Sooo... " Demyx says in his wheedling voice. "What are you doing after work today?"

Zexion thinks of going home, putting his daisies in a pot, and watering them. For some reason, this makes him feel more depressed. "Nothing, I suppose."

"Well, Xigbar and I are going out with some friends," Demyx says slyly. "I'd really like it if you came."

"I'm..." he was going to say 'busy', but he realizes that he just established his lack of a social life. "I don't know."

"Come on, Zexion," Demyx pleads. "You need to get out. Meet people. I think you'd like Axel and Marluxia."

He has no desire to meet either Axel or Marluxia, both of whom he's heard horrific stories about already. But even less does he want to go home to his pitiful apartment and despondent little daisies. "Okay. Okay, fine."

Demyx face lights up like the Shinra building and Zexion realizes that he's just awarded the annoying bastard some sort of petty victory. "Fantastic! We'll leave right after work."

------

It's no secret that Zexion is not big on parties. He doesn't like loud music or bright lights or large groups of people. Unfortunately, this is Demyx's idea of a wonderful night out.

Zexion's head is pounding only half an hour in. He was right about not liking Marluxia or Axel. He just isn't comfortable with the way Marluxia keeps looking at him and, frankly, the redhead gives him headaches, even if he is tolerable. Eventually, Xigbar and Demyx ditch Zexion at the bar, and go to dance together. Marluxia recognizes a blonde club-goer and leaves to chat her up, which leaves Axel and Zexion sitting together. Axel is drinking whiskey like it is water.

It is drunkenness that probably leads him to amble off after what is clearly a minor, but Zexion is relieved to be left alone. He doesn't think he can tolerate Demyx's friends in large doses. Perhaps if he had been introduced to them in a quiet setting, one at a time, he might have felt differently, but as it is...

"Hey, don't you wanna dance with us?" says a voice in his ear. It is the blonde that Marluxia is friends with. She gives him a predatory stare, mirroring the look that Marluxia is sending his way.

"Uh... I actually," he swallows with difficulty. He's never met such an intimidating pair of people. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

"Suit yourself," she says with a vindictive little giggle, wriggling her way into Marluxia's arms.

Zexion stumbles out of the club, letting the relief that comes with the quiet outdoors wash over him. The night is cool and clear, unlike the smoky, epilepsy-inducing club. He regrets that he can't hang out with Demyx in his natural environment, but he can't bring himself to go back in there.

"There you are." He's heard it before, and this time he recognizes the voice.

"Hello, Aerith," he greets, and she emerges from an alley, pushing her cart in front of her.

"Hello to you, too, Zexion," she replies. "Are you following me?"

"No," he sighs. "I'm really not. I came here with a friend, but..."

She nods in understanding. "Yes, you don't seem like the partying type. You wouldn't happen to have any gil on you? I haven't sold any flowers today."

Surprisingly, Zexion actually feels sympathy for her. He guesses that Aerith has grown on him without his noticing. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring any. I didn't want to drink."

"That's okay." A small frown forms on Aerith's face, though she tries to mask her disappointment. Zexion is about to try and console her, when a large figure looms out of the shadows of the street. Zexion goes into automatic panic mode, but it's just Lexaeus, who obviously doesn't realize how threatening someone of his size looks in the dark.

"How much?" he asks, fishing a wallet out of the pocket of his suit.

"Five gil," Aerith says, the smile returning to her face. Zexion is still too unnerved to say anything.

Lexaeus pushes ten gil into Aerith's hands and takes one of her daisies. It's vaguely comical to see a man of his stature cradling a single daisy in his thick fingers. He presses the flower into Zexion's hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, folding Zexion's fingers around it. It's an odd gesture, one that makes the color rush to Zexion's face. Aerith watches the exchange with mounting interest.

"Th-thank you," Zexion mumbles. Lexaeus nods and disappears down one of the alleys, leaving Zexion cupping his flower with an increasing sense of bewilderment.

"Oh, that must be him," Aerith says wistfully.

"What?" Zexion asks, brow furrowing.

Aerith smiles; once again Zexion feels like a child. "It's nothing. See you tomorrow, Zexion."

"See you," he says, opening his fist to look at the flower nestled against his palm. What was all that about?

------

"What happened to you last night?" is how Demyx greets him on Tuesday. The boy is pouting to the best of his ability and, from the sullen look that Xaldin gives him over Demyx's shoulder, Zexion can guess that he has been complaining for several minutes now.

"I went out to get some air and I got... distracted." Even he realizes how lame that sounds.

"That's a terrible excuse," Demyx says, scowling. He's not very good at scowling. Every expression looks puppy-dog-ish on his young face.

"Sorry, Demyx," Zexion apologizes. "You know it's not really my thing."

That seems to placate the young man. He unpuffs his cheeks, at least. "Yeah. At least you tried."

Relieved to be off the hook, Zexion disappears into the fiction section, making sure that everything is still alphabetized. Of course it is. No one has checked out a book since he organized it on Saturday. Except, of course, for Lexaeus. Zexion thinks of his three flowers, happily soaking up slum water on his kitchen table. He is still confused about last night.

Demyx pursues him, zooming around the bookshelves as though he is a ninja. Zexion can hear his stylish boots clomping from miles away, and ducks easily when Demyx runs up to tackle him. The blond goes tumbling into a shelf, upsetting the books. At least now, Zexion has something to do.

"You're no fun at all," Demyx tells him, helping him gather the books.

"So you keep telling me," Zexion replies, though he can't help but smile. If only everyone was so determined to be his friend as Demyx was. It made it a lot easier to keep people around.

"So? Are you going to tell me what distracted you so bad?" Demyx prompts, giving him a curious puppy-dog look.

Zexion feels himself blushing and chastises himself for it. "It's nothing important. A few people I recently met were outside."

Suddenly, he realizes how unlikely it was for Lexaeus to be there. He might seriously be being followed. For some reason, this is more exciting than terrifying. He must be reading too many mystery novels.

"Well, listen to that," Demyx says. "This whole time, I'm trying to get you to meet people, and you go out and do it alone."

"I'm not entirely inept," Zexion retorts, annoyed.

"Come on, aren't you going to tell me about them?" Demyx whines, and Zexion sighs, resolving himself.

"There's Aerith. She sells flowers out by the church," he says shortly. "And Lexaeus. He checked out a few books on Saturday."

He doesn't add that Lexaeus is a potential stalker. He has a feeling that Demyx will blow it out of proportion, like with most things.

"And you're already friends?" Demyx sounds petulant. "It took me forever just to get you to talk to me."

"I had to talk to Lexaeus, he was a customer. And he bought me a flower."

Demyx claps his hands to his mouth and giggles. Zexion vows to never speak to the obnoxious miscreant again. He can feel his face coloring all over again, and that in itself is embarrassing. Demyx only laughs harder at his plight.

"Sounds like you got a boyfriend, too," Demyx announces.

"I didn't," Zexion stammers. Of all the absurd nonsense. "He isn't."

"Zexion!" Xaldin calls, saving him from further humiliating himself. "Customer! Where's the list?"

"I'm coming!" Zexion yells back, trying not to look too relieved as he disengages himself from Demyx's stare and hurries toward the front. When he sees who the customer is, his heart does a strange, happy flip, followed by a disheartened dip at the realization the Demyx is going to tease him mercilessly.

On cue, Demyx emerges from behind the shelves. He doesn't manage to hide how impressed he is with Lexaeus's size. Lexaeus isn't paying attention to him though, and looks happy to see Zexion. Zexion hopes his face isn't still red.

"Zexion," Lexaeus greets, looking pleased at using his name. Zexion notes that he probably only just learned it.

"Hello, Lexaeus," he replies, ignoring Demyx's delighted squeal. Thankfully, Lexaeus does the same. "Let me... find the list."

It is buried beneath a stack of books on the counter. Lexaeus places his books on the table. Zexion cannot hide his surprise. "You finished all of them already?"

"Fast reader." Lexaeus looks almost sheepish.

Zexion smiles, thinking to reassure him, and marks the books off the list. "Impressive."

Demyx is having conniptions behind Lexaeus's back, but Zexion is well-practiced in ignoring him when he needs to. Lexaeus doesn't notice, luckily. He seems preoccupied, and slightly embarrassed himself.

"Thank you," he rumbles, looking like he wants to say something more. But he apparently thinks better off it, turning quickly on his heel.

"Thank you," Zexion calls, gathering the books under his arms. "Demyx, will you quit it?"

"Sorry," Demyx laughs. "He's so perfect for you."

Zexion doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, but he doesn't want to encourage Demyx by asking. They are interrupted by the ringing of the bell. Aerith enters the library timidly, looking quite lonesome without her cart behind her.

"Hey, Aerith," Demyx says, happily. Zexion raises his eyebrows at him, to which Demyx shrugs. "She's Zack's girlfriend."

"Do wonders never cease?" Zexion says, still a little bitter over Demyx's behavior.

"Hey, Demyx. Zexion, I didn't know you worked here." Aerith gives Demyx a hug, indicating that Demyx does indeed know her, and more intimately than Zexion does. "I'm glad I found you."

She removes a single daisy from her breast pocket and hands it to Zexion. He gives her a querying look. "Yesterday, that man gave me ten gil instead of five. I figured I owed you another."

Zexion doesn't have the heart to say that he's amassed quite enough daisies at this point, so he tucks it into his pocket submissively. At this point, he doesn't even care about Demyx's giggling anymore.

------

Zexion runs late on Wednesday because he misses the train and has to walk through the entirety of sector 5. Twice, he is the victim of an attempted mugging, and each time, he ends up feeling sorrier for the luckless kids than himself. There is absolutely zilch in his wallet right now, but at least he will get paid by Xaldin on Friday. The slum kids frequently aren't so lucky. He knows from experience what it's like to go hungry.

He's nearly a half hour late by the time he reaches the library, but Xaldin isn't even manning the counter, so he will probably get away with it. He does notice a conspicuous lack of Demyx.

Figuring he should at least locate the only other employee, Zexion sets out into the fiction section. Often, he has found Demyx occupied with a fantasy book back here, slacking on the job. Today, he finds not only Demyx, but Aerith, and it only takes him a second to realize that Aerith is crying. She has her face buried in Demyx's shoulder, but Zexion can tell from the way she's shaking that she's sobbing hard.

He isn't good at stuff like this. He never could comfort someone who needed it, because it was so rare that he sought comfort himself. Still, it hurt to see Aerith, who was almost perpetually smiling, in this state.

"Are you okay?" he asks as gingerly as possible.

Demyx meets his gaze, and Zexion can see that he's upset, too. "Zack hasn't answered any of our messages in days."

"Well, he's a SOLDIER, right?" Zexion reminds him. "He's probably just... busy."

Demyx doesn't reply, just removes his phone from his pocket and hands it to Zexion. Zexion flips it open. The screen displays Demyx's inbox, in which he apparently receives frequent updates on Shinra activity. Probably because Zack is his cousin.

The reason for the upset is evident. The latest message from Shinra headquarters reads, 'SOLDIER 1st Class, Zack Fair. KIA.'

"Oh, Demyx, I'm..." Zexion falls silent and hands the phone back to his friend. Sorry seems inadequate, and he can think of nothing else to say. For once in his life, he wishes that he could be comforting. It's obvious that Demyx and Aerith both need it.

"It's okay," Demyx mutters, though it is obviously not okay at all. Aerith's fingers tighten on Demyx's blue sweater. "I'm going to walk Aerith home, okay? Can you tell Xaldin I'm not going to be at work for a while?"

"Of course," Zexion agrees, glad to finally feel helpful. He touches Aerith's shoulder as she and Demyx pass and she smiles at him. With everything that's happened to her, she smiles at him. Zexion feels ashamed.

Xaldin leaves early, claiming that the mood of the place is killing him and there's no harm in closing up early for one day. Zexion knows exactly what he means. Demyx usually has the place glowing with his excitement. Now it feels more like a graveyard. Zexion locks the doors of the library four hours early that day, for the first time since he's worked there.

It's odd to start the walk home when it's still bright out, but he doesn't really have the heart to sit alone in the silent library. As he exits the building, the wind kicks up, and he notices a struggling daisy trapped beneath his shoe. He looks around instinctively, but Demyx and Aerith and her flower cart are long gone. Zexion bends to pick the flower up and holds it tightly in his hand to prevent the wind from carrying it away.

There are a few children running and playing, but after Zexion passes them, the streets are empty. It's odd, but Zexion feels less secure in broad daylight than he does in the middle of the night. Like something is watching him. Paranoid, he looks around him as he walks, but there is nothing he can see.

He secures the daisy in the pocket of his slacks as he passes the church. Part of him wants to go in and see if Aerith is there and okay, but he knows better than to bother her. Demyx is probably with her, anyway. He steps over a rusty pipe and continues on his way. The pipe hisses at him.

Zexion freezes, staring at the rust-colored piece of junk, and the hissing continues. It isn't coming from the pipe, but from behind the pile of rubble from which the pipe must have fallen.

"Hello?" Zexion tries, which is possibly the stupidest thing he's ever done.

The source of the hissing noise barrels through the pile of junk, sending rusty parts tumbling across the streets. Zexion reels backward as the creature approaches. It is something out of myth, like a chimera, some human-faced, metal-plated, winged beast that he's never seen the likes of before. He must be hallucinating. Someone slipped bliss into his food.

The monster lifts its head and the human face stares out of its neck straight at Zexion. He fully expects to die. It's funny, he always thought that his ending would be bland, like a mugging in some dark part of the slums. And now, he gets killed by this fantastic monster out of some book. It's oddly appropriate.

The monster lunges at him.

Before he knows what's happening, Zexion's nose collides painfully with the dirt and he hears the monster squeal. There is a noise like metal grating across metal and Zexion feels the ground shake as the creature collapses. More junk goes rolling off its pile and skittering into the street. Zexion can't see, but he can feel the blood seeping from his nose. A rough hand grabs him by the arm and hauls him to his feet.

"Are you hurt?" The voice is low and rumbling. Zexion is too dazed to place it just yet. The man touches his nose and Zexion flinches with a pained noise.

"Drink this," the voice orders, and Zexion feels something cold being pressed to his lips. "Come on, it'll make you feel better."

It must be a potion. He can feel his nose mending at an accelerated rate once he swallows, and the dizziness is dismissed. He recognizes the hulking figure of Lexaeus, one hand holding a potion flask to his lips and the other steadying him by the shoulder.

"Lexaeus," he mumbles, wiping the blood from his nose. It would have hurt to touch before, but now it feels fine. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing I'm allowed to tell you about," Lexaeus replies. "You need to get off the streets. Where do you live?"

Zexion chances to look at the monster. It lies mangled on the street, looking like it was hit with a tank. Only then does Zexion notice the massive tomahawk Lexaeus has hefted onto his left shoulder.

"Did you do that?" It's a stupid question, one to which Lexaeus only nods solemnly.

"Do you live in this sector?" Lexaeus asks.

"Yes," Zexion responds, recognizing that Lexaeus isn't going to tell him anything. He can only hope that the man will be more open when they get to his apartment.

It becomes evident that Lexaeus fully intends to escort him, and Zexion can't deny that he is grateful. He's still shaken over his encounter with the monster and full of questions that, he hopes, Lexaeus will answer for him. They reach his apartment quickly, and Zexion has to fight the urge to be embarrassed by his slummy home. Lexaeus looks very out of place in his suit, with his giant hammer still hoisted over his shoulder. The weapon is bigger than Zexion is.

Lexaeus holds the door open for him. Zexion is glad that he keeps his house clean, though he's not sure why it matters so much to him either way. Lexaeus doesn't seem to care that Zexion's living conditions are so poor.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking out another pair of potions.

"Yes, I feel fine," Zexion says. "But what was that thing? What was it doing there? And you, you killed it. How did you do that?"

Lexaeus ignores his multitudes of questions and places the potions on his table, next to the daisies. "I'm leaving these with you. Just in case you need them."

"I can afford a potion," Zexion says, feeling slightly defensive. He can't, anyway.

Lexaeus looks at the daisies, nearly smiling. Zexion suddenly feels embarrassed, remembering how Lexaeus placed one in his hand so reverently. The moment is broken by Lexaeus's phone ringing. He flips it open quickly.

"Cissnei, why are you...?" he falters, hand tightening on the phone. "Are you sure? What did Tseng say? No... no, it's all right. Let him..."

Zexion occupies himself with placing the fifth daisy in the glass, so that it doesn't seem like he is eavesdropping. The conversation seems urgent. It may even have to do with the monster that appeared outside the church. He doesn't want to act like an imbecile and expose his ignorance, or blatantly listen in.

"No, I won't tell him," Lexaeus says quietly. "Where are you? I can get to Gongaga in a few days, if you'll just stay there."

There is silence. Zexion can hear the person on the other line, but it is static and unintelligible murmuring. Lexaeus sighs heavily.

"You're right. I need to watch her or Tseng will know something is happening. Take care of yourself, Cissnei."

His daisies are so mismatched. The first one is still a limp little thing, while the second has lost a few petals. The third is the only one that seems normal. The fourth is rather crushed from being in Aerith's pocket and the newest edition has a bent stem where Zexion stepped on it. He tries to think about this rather than listening to Lexaeus's conversation.

Lexaeus hangs up the phone with a click. "I'm sorry. I have to get back to the church."

Zexion wants to ask why, but so far, his questioning has been extremely unsuccessful. "Be careful."

Lexaeus gives him one of those odd almost-smiles. He doesn't need the warning.

------

Thursday morning, Zexion wakes up to his alarm and makes himself a bowl of instant noodles. He pours some orange juice into his only clean glass and eats breakfast in a state of confusion that doesn't feel like it will ever go away. Then he showers and sits down to read before leaving. His phone, which he's only used once, to call Demyx when he was running late, clicks at him.

Xaldin's message tells him not to worry about coming in today. They're taking some time off for Demyx's sake. Besides, it's the slow season.

Zexion shakes his head and pockets his phone. Every season is the slow season, and they all know it. Still, he's sort of grateful for the time off, though he's not sure what to do with his day now. It's a good opportunity to go shopping, he guesses. The noodles he had for breakfast were his last pack.

He shrugs on his coat and goes out into the slums. There are twenty gil in his coat pocket, so he will have to pace himself. Yes, it's going to be more instant noodles for a while. Especially since Xaldin is closing for a few days. He has a reserve at home, of course, but he'd rather not spend it unless he has to.

He takes the train to sector 6 and bums around in Wall Market for a while. Since he feels bad for piling his cart full of noodles, he also buys some milk and orange juice that he will probably take months to finish off. He leaves the shop with five gil left over.

There are a lot of kids that hang around the shops in sector 6, hoping to get food off of passing suckers. Unfortunately, anyone who donates the food also expects the kid to pay them back somehow, usually in one of the dark alleys. Zexion can tell by the look on some of the children's faces that they are not naive enough to let this happen. Especially the little blond one that gives him a scathing look as he passes, as though Zexion is a pervert for even looking at him. He seems familiar. Zexion thinks he might be the minor that Axel was interested in when he was inebriated. Suddenly, he feels kind of bad for Axel.

Bags of groceries in hand, he heads back to sector 5. People on the train mostly ignore him, since they are a slew of upper and lower class, and no one wants to slip up and befriend someone below or above them. Somehow, when he steps off of the train and into the slums, he is not surprised to see Aerith and her flower cart. She is selling a few of them to a little girl, but Zexion approaches anyway.

Aerith's smile is noticeably sadder. "Hi, Zexion."

"Hello," he says, setting his groceries down and pulling out his wallet. "Can I buy one, please?"

"Of course," Aerith replies. "You're my best customer."

He hands her the gil and she hands him the flower. Then, unexpectedly, she throws her arms around him and kisses his cheek. Zexion tenses, afraid that she might cry and he won't know what to do, but she only hugs him. Awkwardly, he pats her back, not sure of what to think.

"Thank you," she whispers. "It's good to see you. It's good to know that I'm not alone down here, with you and Demyx."

"Aerith..." he mutters, unable to say anything else.

She sniffles and releases him, giving a frail little laugh. Wiping her eyes, she whispers, "Have you gotten him yet?"

"Who?" Zexion asks, surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"Your special someone. I've given you enough flowers by now. Doesn't he like them?"

Zexion squints at her. "There isn't anyone."

"I thought that, too," Aerith says. "But there's always someone. You just have to try harder."

He doesn't know how to tell her that there really is no one, so he doesn't. He just nods at her and hopes that it placates her. "I'll see you tomorrow, Aerith."

"I know," Aerith says, completely sure of it.

Zexion gathers his food and continues home. As usual, it's a relief to walk into his apartment and see how clean it is in comparison to the outside. He stows the milk and orange juice in his fridge and puts the packages of instant noodles on a shelf above the stove. The newest daisy joins its brothers in the glass. Then, disappointed that he didn't kill more time, Zexion plops down on his meager couch to continue reading.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

His door sounds like it's being assaulted by a tank, and he thinks he sees the wood splinter. Dropping his book, Zexion runs to open it, hoping that the noise was actually knocking, and not the tank assault it seemed to be.

"Lexaeus? What...?" he trails off, because, though he is slightly annoyed that the big man attacked his door, he's just noticed the blood staining the leg and shoulder of his pristine suit. "Get in."

Lexaeus stumbles inside, trailing blood along his carpet and smattering it across his couch. Thinking quickly, Zexion grabs the potions that Lexaeus gave him yesterday and hurriedly opens them. He holds them to Lexaeus's lips in turn, the same as had been done for him. The large man drinks gratefully, and Zexion can see the relief in his face. He waits until Lexaeus seems functional before barraging him with questions.

"What happened to you? What's going on?" he demands.

"Cissnei," Lexaeus mumbles. "Is she still in Gongaga?"

"I don't know," Zexion says, irritated that Lexaeus is still refusing to answer him. "Are you okay?"

"My leg," Lexaeus answers. "It's broken."

They both know a potion will take a while to heal something like that. Zexion doesn't know what to do. Like there are doctors in the slums. "Lay back."

Obediently, Lexaeus flattens himself onto Zexion's couch. It isn't big enough, but the fact that he has to keep his legs up against the arm rest is probably a good thing. They'll just have to hope that the potion will help Lexaeus heal quickly.

"Who is Cissnei?" Zexion asks, hoping that this, at least, is a question that Lexaeus can answer.

"My sister," Lexaeus says, wincing when Zexion moves toward him. But Zexion only takes his hand. Lexaeus manages to give him a confused look, but Zexion doesn't care. He's thinking about everything Aerith told him, in spite of how Zack was killed. He's thinking that it feels kind of nice, having the warmth from Lexaeus's hand under his. He hopes that maybe a genuinely affectionate gesture will help Lexaeus feel better.

With something that sounds like a noise a giant cat might make, Lexaeus squeezes his hand. Zexion dares to think that this might be an invitation to ask more questions. "How were you hurt?"

"Those creatures. They've invaded Midgar. They're some sort of mutation, a result of something called Project G," Lexaeus explains, though it makes little sense to Zexion. "I was... surrounded. Cissnei and the other Turks on assignment with me are out of Midgar, searching for a SOLDIER in the country."

"You're a Turk," Zexion repeats, eyes widening. "You aren't supposed to tell me that."

"No, I'm not," Lexaeus says, with a laugh that fades quickly into a wince of pain.

"And your assignment?" Zexion prompts. "What are Turks doing in the slums?"

"Watching Aerith Gainsborough. And I really can't tell you more about that. She's special though. Important."

Oh. So it wasn't Zexion Lexaeus had been following, but Aerith. For some reason, he's almost disappointed.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asks, and is surprised when Lexaeus squeezes his hand tighter, pulling him closer. He stumbles forward, nearly landing on the man, and has to catch his breath. He can't recall the last time he was this close to someone, except when Aerith hugged him earlier.

"Like you," Lexaeus mumbles, with a weak smile, and Zexion is surprised to find that he is smiling back. It took him months to even speak properly to Demyx, and yet, this man...

"It was a... benefit... to be able to... see you... often," Lexaeus continues, and Zexion can feel the blood rushing to his face. He wishes that people wouldn't say such embarrassing things to him, and yet, he's happy. Even if Lexaeus is likely only telling him these things because he is dazed from the pain of a broken leg, Zexion feels privileged and is glad. He is even glad for the chance to be this close, close enough that when Lexaeus exhales, it disturbs the hair just past Zexion's chin.

Lexaeus's eyes are unfocused. The potion is probably numbing him up something terrible in order to fix his leg. Zexion isn't sure Lexaeus knows what he's saying when he mumbles, "Can I...?"

Then Zexion realizes, with a sense of fear and excitement and giddiness, what Lexaeus means. He's not in the habit of being rash, especially when it comes to friendship and anything beyond, but the back of his mind is singing, in a suspiciously Aerith-y voice, there is always someone.

Zexion leans forward and brushes their lips together. Rationally, he should stop there, he knows Lexaeus would let him, but it isn't enough. He leans back in, this time parting his lips eagerly. And sure, Lexaeus is out of it and that's probably the only reason this is even happening, but he isn't a half-bad kisser. He runs his thick fingers through Zexion's unruly hair and then over his ears and Zexion shudders. He didn't even know he was sensitive there. No one's ever done that to him. He does the same to Lexaeus and the big man purrs into his mouth. Zexion squeaks in surprise when Lexaeus sits up, tugging at Zexion's hair to guide him closer.

"Nn... your leg," Zexion mutters, though it's difficult with Lexaeus slipping his tongue into his mouth. He's never kissed anyone like this before. He doesn't expect how it sends shivers of arousal down his spine, turning his legs to jelly.

It's evident that Lexaeus doesn't give a damn about his leg, because he practically drags Zexion into his lap. Not that Zexion is complaining. He long since lost the ability to think clearly, and it feels really nice to have all that solid muscle beneath him.

Lexaeus lays back down, this time taking Zexion with him, and for a split second, Zexion panics. Lexaeus is big enough to crush him if he wants to, large enough that Zexion could get lost in his jacket if he's not careful. But the glide of his tongue against Zexion's is gentle, careful, as if he knows how nervous Zexion feels and doesn't want to frighten him away. One of them moans into the kiss, and seeing as how it is a high, breathy noise, Zexion can only assume it's him.

Lexaeus is hard. Zexion notices it distantly, because the bigger man is doing nothing to draw attention to it, but of course Zexion can feel him through the thin layers of clothing between them. He expects the panic to set in again, but instead he feels only the same, almost unbearable need that started when they first touched lips. He writhes against Lexaeus, and this time it is the Turk who moans helplessly, bucking his hips. Zexion rides the jerk, pulling away from Lexaeus so that he can breathe.

They are both panting, exchanging air. Zexion feels dizzy, with all the blood draining from his face and rushing to his groin. But this, Lexaeus seems to decide, is as far as they need to take it. He touches Zexion's cheek fondly.

"Thank you," he whispers. His eyes close. Zexion huffs at the realization that Lexaeus has fallen asleep.

He carefully disentangles himself, feeling oddly disappointed. He doesn't like to admit it to himself, but if Lexaeus had pressed him to continue, he would have. In fact, if Lexaeus hadn't broken the spell, he doesn't know if he would have even thought about stopping.

------

He wakes to his alarm as always, and is halfway through his shower before he remembers that there is someone else in his house. It is unfortunate, since he has to emerge from the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. Luckily, Lexaeus turns politely away while Zexion puts his clothes on. He goes out of his way to chose a pair of jeans and a nice black shirt. He doesn't even bother to try and justify it to himself.

Half of Zexion had expected Lexaeus to be gone, but even though his leg appears to be better, he is still on the couch. Zexion is pleased and almost flattered. He knows that Lexaeus didn't have to stay.

"How are you feeling?" he asks the Turk, rubbing his hair with his towel in an effort to keep it from dripping.

"Better," Lexaeus responds. Zexion feels rather antsy, since neither of them have had an opportunity to talk about what happened and frankly, he'd like to continue. But he doesn't push it.

"I'm glad," he says. "I'll make you some breakfast."

Lexaeus looks pleased at the prospect, so Zexion rummages for something worthy in his kitchen. There is miraculously some pancake mix on the back of the shelf, and he manages to make a few decent ones. And some not-so-decent ones, which he hides in the garbage can. He doesn't have any syrup, but there's plenty of butter, and Lexaeus doesn't complain.

"I can't cook at all," the Turk admits. "I've been living off of takeout and noodles."

"Ha," says Zexion, hoping that the pancake mix is still good. It tastes fine, but there's no certainty in anything.

They haven't spoken about yesterday yet, but they are sitting closer than necessary and Zexion would like to think it's because Lexaeus likes being close to him. Lexaeus finishes his pancakes, and Zexion worries that he didn't make enough, but Lexaeus doesn't ask for more.

"Would it be all right if I used your shower?" he asks, distinctly uncomfortable.

"Feel free," Zexion says. Actually, it's kind of nice that Lexaeus was worrying about it. "There's a spare toothbrush. It's the green one."

Lexaeus doesn't say anything more. Zexion puts their dishes in the sink as Lexaeus disappears into the bathroom. It's really a wonder that the man fits, it's so small. Zexion makes himself comfortable on the couch, unable to decide whether he should start a book or not. His eyes come to rest on Lexaeus's phone, sitting on the edge of his table.

He shouldn't, really, but curiosity overcomes him. He flips it open. Lexaeus's latest message fills the screen. "Are you in?" it asks. It's from someone named Xemnas, which piques Zexion's curiosity, but he doesn't dare to pry further. He places the phone back where he found it, closing it quietly. He isn't sure what the message means, but he trusts Lexaeus. He's with Shinra, right? He wouldn't be doing anything seedy.

Well, Zexion isn't a huge fan of Shinra, but the job does come with a bit of integrity, at least.

He opens up his copy of LOVELESS, which has been neglected on the table for quite some time, and begins to read. He's almost through the last scene, and at this point, the scribblings from the previous owner make the actual text almost impossible to read. Zexion hasn't waded through the annotations yet. He would like to formulate his own theories before reading someone else's.

He is finished by the time Lexaeus comes out, wearing the same blood-stained shirt and pants he had on yesterday. Zexion feels bad for not having anything for Lexaeus to wear, but nothing he owns would fit him. Lexaeus doesn't say anything about it, just sits next to him on the couch again, sighing as he flexes his leg.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?" Zexion asks, unconsciously reaching over to touch Lexaeus's knee. Lexaeus gives him an unreadable look, and Zexion flushes. Suddenly, they are back to yesterday, and it occurs to Zexion that Lexaeus might not want to go any further, or that it only happened because he wasn't thinking clearly. Zexion isn't sure he could handle that, not with how confused he is about this whole thing already.

"Just a little," Lexaeus says, relaxing into his touch. Zexion dares to slide his hand further up. Lexaeus exhales sharply, his eyelids lowering.

"You don't have to leave, do you?" Zexion hates the way he sounds like a desperate child.

"I'm not with the Turks anymore," Lexaeus tells him.

Zexion hesitates. "Why?"

"You don't understand Shinra," Lexaeus sighs, touching Zexion's cheek again. Zexion decides he kind of likes the gesture. "It's a den of monsters."

"You can ask anyone in the slums and they'll agree with you," Zexion says quietly. And it's true. His whole life, he has resented Shinra, and he knows those who have done worse than that.

"I'm leaving Midgar. This whole thing is on Shinra's shoulders, and it isn't going to end well," his eyes meet Zexion's. Zexion wonders if maybe Lexaeus wants them to leave together. The scary thing is that he knows, deep down, he would agree. He would love to leave the slums. He would love to leave this whole city. And he's not really so averse to leaving with Lexaeus, as long as they can be like this.

"There's an anti-Shinra organization, more tame than AVALANCHE," Lexaeus continues, though Zexion is sliding his hand up further and it's obviously distracting him. "They operate outside of Midgar. I was thinking of joining them."

Zexion tightens his grip and Lexaeus finally breaks, growling as he drags Zexion onto him once more. It's as much of an invitation as Zexion could hope for. He hungrily brings their lips together, weaving his fingers through the still-damp strands of Lexaeus's hair. He can feel the obvious strength in Lexaeus's body when he moves, wrapping his arms around Zexion's waist. Lexaeus could probably kill him if he felt so inclined.

But his intentions are obviously more along the lines of ravishing Zexion, which he is completely okay with.

Lexaeus reaches his hands into Zexion's shirt, rubbing his warm palms along Zexion's ribs and down his sides. Zexion trembles, fumbling with the buttons of Lexaeus's shirt. He's worried that Lexaeus will stop them again. And he really, really doesn't want to stop. He finishes the shirt, pushing it aside, exposing Lexaeus's broad chest. Every inch of his bulk, it appears, is pure muscle. He must have been in training with Shinra for a very long time.

Zexion runs his hands over every inch of skin he can reach. There are scars all over the expanse of Lexaeus's upper body, some so vicious that Zexion cannot imagine what sort of weapon spawned them. He caresses each lovingly, watching Lexaeus's face to make sure he's doing right. He doesn't have much experience in this particular activity, but damn, he really wants to learn. Lexaeus sighs each time he moves, and Zexion can feel that he's growing aroused again. Zexion shudders and prays that Lexaeus actually does something about it this time.

His own hardness is pressed against Lexaeus's stomach, and he seems ultimately pleased about it, especially when Zexion writhes in the interest of friction. Lexaeus lifts Zexion's shirt away, and Zexion is too far gone to even notice the self-conscious pang that comes with the exposure. Lexaeus swallows thickly and eyes the button of Zexion's jeans.

"Can I?" Lexaeus asks again, this time in frustratingly restrained tone, like he could totally stop if he wanted to.

"For the love of God," Zexion hisses. "If you don't, I'll fucking break your other leg."

Lexaeus rumbles - or maybe it is a laugh - and deftly unbuttons Zexion's pants. Zexion shifts off of Lexaeus's lap and lets them slide down along with his boxers, and he doesn't understand why Lexaeus is giving him that look, staring at him with that unreadable expression. But he really likes how Lexaeus kisses him once he's straddling him again, like he can't taste enough of him at once. And he really likes that there is so little between them. And then Lexaeus is reaching down and cupping his hand around Zexion's erection and-

"Oh," Zexion says, and that's the most articulate thing he can manage as he clutches at Lexaeus's shoulders. Lexaeus tightens his grip and Zexion makes this helpless little whimpering noise because nothing has ever felt this good.

Lexaeus's hand is engulfing him, it's so large, and when he strokes, Zexion cannot help but squirm restlessly and buck toward the loose circle of Lexaeus's fist because he's pretty sure he could find completion there. Damn it, Lexaeus is far too good at this, twisting at just the right spot so that Zexion has no choice but to bury his face in Lexaeus's shoulder and sob because it's almost too much to bear. Lexaeus smears his precum along his length, slicking him up so that the strokes are more fluid, and Zexion finds it far easier to just keep his face safely hidden, since he can't seem to control the desperate noises he's making.

Apparently, Lexaeus has other things in mind. Taking Zexion by the hips, he turns and forces him to lay back against the couch. It is only when he places a quick kiss to Zexion's thigh that Zexion realizes what his intentions are.

Luckily, Lexaeus had the foresight to hold his hips down before taking Zexion into his mouth, because Zexion bucks his hips like he's being electrocuted. And, hell, that's how it feels, from the base of his spine up to his skull he is tingling and Jesus, he'd thought that Lexaeus's hand had been a good idea. To top it all, Lexaeus is humming. It's some unnameable tune but every single vibration sends tremors through Zexion's body. Zexion doesn't want to think about why Lexaeus is so good.

The whole time, Lexaeus is watching his face intently, and Zexion desperately wishes he wouldn't because that sight is almost too much. He curls his fingers into Lexaeus's hair, holding tight. Honestly, he feels like he might get lost without Lexaeus to anchor him, everything is happening so quickly. Then Lexaeus draws him deeper into his mouth and sucks and Zexion knows he's going to go crazy.

"Lexaeus, I'm... " he arches his back. He's so close now that it hurts, and some primal part of him wants to come while he's still in Lexaeus's mouth. He's on a power trip already with the Turk between his legs. "Please."

Lexaeus pulls away and Zexion wants to scream. "No, nono, Lexaeus, please."

He does that rumble again, the one that is definitely a laugh, pulling up to kiss Zexion. There is something sickly satisfying about tasting himself on Lexaeus's tongue, and he allows himself to be placated for now, because he thinks he knows what Lexaeus wants, and he wants it, too. Enough that he is trembling in anticipation of it. Lexaeus pulls away and their eyes meet, and Zexion knows exactly what Lexaeus is thinking about.

"If you ask me if you can again," Zexion threatens, though he can't think of anything horrible enough to do in retaliation.

"Have you done this before?" Lexaeus asks, regarding him seriously.

Moment of truth. Zexion swallows hard. "Once."

Lexaeus gives him that familiar look, the one that says he isn't progressing until he knows why Zexion said it with that tone. Zexion wants them to continue too much to refuse him that. "I was fifteen. In sector 6, when you're desperate for food, sometimes you have to..."

He doesn't need to say more than that. The point is, it wasn't like this. Never like this. He looks at Lexaeus, expecting that infuriating sympathy, but Lexaeus just kisses him possessively and Zexion knows that he wants more than just a 'once'. The thought both terrifies and thrills Zexion. His heart is hammering like it might break free. Lexaeus takes the cue to stroke his cock again, and Zexion can't remember his name for a second, much less anything else.

"Lexaeus," he pleads. "I want... mmh, in the top drawer of the nightstand, there's..."

He's really not good at this stuff. He's just glad that Lexaeus doesn't question him, merely gets up and retrieves the lotion with the initiative of a Shinra soldier. Zexion is rather impressed that he manages to squeeze some of the lotion out using only one hand, but it also confirms that he's done this enough to be proficient in the art. An irrational jealousy lunges around in Zexion's stomach, but the beast is quelled when Lexaeus presses a slick finger to his opening. Zexion has never experienced preparation before, and it's weird, and he has to wonder how it's not gross to Lexaeus, but Lexaeus has this blissful look on his face like he's imagining the same thing Zexion is - what it will be like when it's his cock and not his finger.

Lexaeus's hands are big, and one finger feels weird enough, but two is enough to stretch him painfully. Zexion hisses when Lexaeus adds the second finger, but wills himself to relax. Even now, the thought of Lexaeus inside him - fucking him - is mind-blowing. He wants it. And he knows this, at least: Lexaeus knows how to make it good. Lexaeus curves his fingers suddenly, hitting something inside Zexion that lights him on fire.

He arches his back, trying to further impale himself on Lexaeus's fingers. "A-ah, what, what is that?"

Lexaeus casts him an amused look and curls his fingers again, sending Zexion into a fit of breathless little moans. He writhes like a cat. "That, that's so... ahhn, good."

"Are you ready?" Lexaeus's voice sounds strained, despite his calm demeanor.

"Yes, yes," Zexion insists. "Do it, please, please, Lexaeus... "

Lexaeus withdraws his fingers, leaving Zexion feeling strangely empty. He reaches down to slick his cock, but Zexion stops him. "Let me."

His eyes going dark, Lexaeus hands him to bottle and Zexion empties a generous amount into his palm. Lexaeus groans when Zexion touches him, sliding his hands easily along his erection until Lexaeus moans and forces him to stop and lie back. They each shift and he can feel the crown of Lexaeus's erection against his opening. It's far bigger than his fingers, and for a second, Zexion panics, but he allows Lexaeus to progress because he pushes in gently, slipping past the ring of muscle with little resistance. Zexion focuses on the sweat beading at Lexaeus's hairline, glistening across his chest. He looks feral like this, and Zexion likes it. He likes that the suit and the collected attitude have been thoroughly fucked.

Lexaeus pauses. He's filling Zexion so completely, and yes, it hurts, but that's dulling quickly, replaced by the urge to move. He rocks his hips and Lexaeus growls at him, latching onto his neck with his mouth and moving his hips. Slowly at first, and then with a snap at the end that hits Zexion directly in that spot that his fingers only teased. He claws at Lexaeus's back and pants and urges him to move faster. Lexaeus grabs him by the hips and tilts him upward so that Zexion can take him deeper. Every stroke hits that wonderful trigger, and Zexion is completely mindless with it.

Then Lexaeus grabs his cock, strokes, and Zexion reaches his limit. He climaxes, splashing Lexaeus's hand and both their stomachs and Lexaeus is groaning lowly in his ear and Zexion can see what he must have looked like when he was twenty when he comes.

They pant together, and Lexaeus is careful to roll them over so that he doesn't crush Zexion. They both collapse, and Zexion feels even more like a child when he curls up against Lexaeus's massive chest. But it's good. It was all good and he has the feeling that it's all going to be good.

"I'm coming with you," he whispers, and Lexaeus doesn't protest.

------

"Sooo... you're leaving?" Aerith asks, tilting her head at him. Her bow sways, the most vibrant thing outside the little church. Zexion had insisted he say goodbye to Aerith and Demyx before leaving. He'd had to settle for messaging Demyx because he obviously wasn't at the library, but he always knew where to find Aerith.

"Afraid so," Zexion says.

"I'm scared of the sky," Aerith confides. "But I bet you feel pretty safe with Lexaeus around."

Zexion glances over at Lexaeus. He is out of the suits now, which he confessed he only wore in the first place because of his job as a Turk. "I do. Though I don't think Midgar is the safest for him right now. I don't think the Turks really appreciate you just... up and leaving."

"I suppose they wouldn't, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. Have you talked to Demyx?"

"I couldn't find him," Zexion says. They pause to watch Lexaeus toss the infantryman helmet to a young boy, who giggles and swings it around like a toy.

"It's okay," Aerith tells him. "I have a feeling you'll see him again someday."

Zexion shakes his head. Even now, Aerith is so optimistic it's enviable.

"I have a going away present for you!" Aerith announces, and she pulls one of the flowers from her cart. She must be doing a good job taking care of them, because this is the biggest daisy Zexion has ever seen.

He stares at it, unsure of how to thank her.

"I was going to sell this one for ten gil," she says, "But you can have it for free. Only because I know you have someone special to share it with."

Zexion looks over at Lexaeus, who smiles at him and salutes him. The child throws the infantryman's helmet and Lexaeus catches it expertly, as easily as if it were a frisbee. Zexion smiles in spite of himself.

"Thanks, Aerith," he says, and she grins at him.

"Goodbye, Zexion." She wraps her arms around him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

He hugs her tightly. "Goodbye, Aerith."

Lexaeus waits patiently for him, but Zexion knows they should leave as soon as possible, so he jogs to where the ex-Turk is standing. Without a word, he takes Lexaeus by the hand and presses the daisy into his palm, then curls his fingers around it. Lexaeus has to lean to kiss him, but Zexion helps by standing on his tip-toes.

"Are you ready?" Zexion asks, linking his arm around Lexaeus's.

"I just have to make a phone call," Lexaeus says. Whoever it is, they are on speed dial, and they answer quickly. Zexion can hear the static voice again, this time lowered a few octaves from Cissnei's.

"Xemnas? It's Lexaeus."

He glances at Zexion, who nods, slipping his fingers into his pocket to reassure himself that LOVELESS is still there.

"We're in."

End