"Demyx?"

"Mmmmph."

"Demyx, I'm hungry."

"Hmmm? No, Zexion, why are you stopping? This cloak is so hot and bulky…"

"Demyx! Get off me and wake up!"

"Aaigh!"

Such was the early morning of February 14th, which found Organization XIII's Numbers VI and IX hopelessly entangled in the former's bedsheets again. As usual, Zexion rose with the tolling of the Great White Bell, before his subordinate did. Perhaps "rose" wasn't the right word, actually, because Demyx's virtually comatose position atop the Cloaked Schemer prevented it. "Awoke" fit the situation better, and Zexion was well aware of his current limitation upon doing so.

"Not that I didn't appreciate the process which led to it, but I've got things to do today," thought Zexion. This consideration immediately preceded the above exchange, in which Zexion attempted words, force, and finally teleportation to escape his sleepily amorous companion. So it was that Demyx suddenly screamed and fell through the empty air where Zexion had been, which served as a rude awakening for the former and a catalyst for the amusement of the latter.

Demyx moved with uncharacteristic agility for 7:30 in the morning. When he failed to find Zexion by digging through the sheets, he scrambled left and right, searching frantically under the bed. "Zexion? Where are you? You were just here! Zexion!"

Demyx's mounting panic elicited a smile from the normally stoic Zexion, who by the time the Melodious Nocturne saw him had retrieved his boxers and was slipping into his jeans. "Don't get your sitar in a twist, Demyx. I'm right here." Demyx, hearing Zexion's voice, turned around and grinned, relieved. "Zexy! I knew you weren't the type to love and leave!"

Zexion picked his cloak up off the ground, rolling his eyes and sliding into the sleeves. "We're Nobodies, Demyx. We're not the type to love at all. And don't call me Zexy."

"Hmph." Demyx pouted, tossing the sheets aside and standing to dress. "What do you call last night, then?"

Zexion raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in a condescending facsimile of a smile. "Fun. A diversion. A temporary relief from the ennui of nonexistence." He zipped up his cloak for emphasis. "But I wouldn't, by any stretch of the imagination, call it love."

During Zexion's response, Demyx engaged in dressing for the coming day, albeit far more slowly than his fellow Nobody. "Well, that's kind of mercenary of you, isn't it?" he asked with feigned hurt, hopping to avoid falling as he pulled his pants on one leg at a time. "Organization XIII: the club for heartless scientists and sex toys?"

Zexion shrugged, stepping carefully through his room (which, due to last night's activities, was far less orderly) and picking up Demyx's cloak off the floor. "What can I say? It's the truth. We can't feel any emotion at all, remember?" He handed Demyx the cloak, and met his inquisitive eyes. "Though I will say that you have a special place in the pitiful emptiness where my heart once was. What would I do with my evenings otherwise?"

Demyx held Zexion's gaze, and finally closed his eyes, shaking his head, chuckling ruefully and starting to put on his cloak. "You'd stay up reading your boring old textbooks, wishing you were exercising your body instead of your mind. We haven't lost That with our hearts, you realize."

"Physically, we haven't." Zexion cast a glance at the ceiling, smiled mischievously, and tackled an unsuspecting Demyx to the bed. He held the surprised Nobody's wrists over his head, straddling him and eyeing him hungrily. "Perhaps that's what keeps us all going, hmm?"

Demyx was too shocked to form a coherent response, open-mouthed and trying to keep his gaze from wandering across his superior's now-clothed body. After what seemed an eternity waiting for Zexion to close the distance between them, the moment ended. Zexion rolled off of the bed, opening a portal of darkness and turning to Demyx with his usual dispassionate expression. "Try not to look too flushed. We're late for breakfast already."

So they were, but not by much. Vexen was absent from the long table in the Hollow Cafeteria, doubtless attempting to sleep off a long night of experiments. Larxene was missing as well, for reasons Zexion didn't care to think about. He emerged from the portal of darkness, throwing out an indifferent "Good morning" and taking his seat. A Dusk slithered up to him at once, presenting him with a plate of waffles. "Thank you. No syrup, please, and fetch me some ice water as long as you're here," Zexion ordered, and sent the Dusk back to the kitchens.

Demyx, at least, had the wherewithal to arrive through his own portal this time; more than once in the past, they had shared their method of transportation, feeding the risqué speculation of those members of the Organization who partook in such a thing. Today's greater caution made no difference, unfortunately, as Demyx had put his cloak on inside out. Zexion shot him a glare, Axel and Xigbar shot both of them evil grins, and Demyx, turning redder than Axel's hair, disappeared, returning in five seconds – flustered indeed, but dressed properly.

Axel, of course, pounced on this opportunity like a tiger on a helpless victim. "You two enjoyed your evening, I take it?" he asked with mock innocence. "Did you help Demyx tune his sitar, Zexion?" Roxas, three seats down, nearly spit out a mouthful of his breakfast.

Demyx, embarrassed, dove into his waffles to hide his still-burning cheeks. He was handling the situation with far less aplomb than Zexion, who simply responded, "I'm sure you can relate. You've spent many a night polishing Number XIII's Keyblade, haven't you?" Now it was Roxas's turn to blush, while Axel simply grinned dangerously. "Where fire goes, light follows. But you knew that already." Axel kept his composure, even while dodging a thrown knife from Roxas's side of the table.

Larxene appeared at this point, just in time to see the fallout from the verbal and sexual sparring – Zexion and Axel shooting laser-intensity looks at each other from their adjacent positions, while Demyx and Roxas attacked their waffles with focus and drive normally reserved for escaping an ambush. Number XII smiled as she draped her arms around a self-satisfied-looking Marluxia, already enjoying this. "Oh, have I missed something PG-13? Amateurs. Let me tell you all about-"

Vexen portaled into the room, cutting her off. "Don't even start, young lady. I've gotten far too little sleep to listen and I have far too much work to care. Do you even have any idea how hard it is to get anything done with people like you making so much-"

"Enough."

All members of the Organization turned to hear the speaker: Xemnas, who had put down his silverware and had fixed seemingly everyone at once with a no-nonsense glare. "It was not my intent to have breakfast with your private escapades competing for attention in the background. Any further conversation regarding what you all do behind closed doors in the spare time I have so generously granted to you shall incur a penalty of three days polishing every reflective surface in the Immaculate Washroom – which, may I remind you, is by its very nature reflective in its entirety." Xemnas stood, his waffles forgotten and his gaze sweeping the table. "Which reminds me of the customary announcement for this date." This last proclamation garnered varied reactions: exasperated rolls of the eyes from those who knew the forthcoming speech by heart, impassivity from those who couldn't care less about it, and snickers and grins from those who fully intended to disregard it. Zexion, oddly, fell into none of these groups, but Xemnas took no notice.

"As must always occur, due to the incessant passage of time, February 14th has once again presented itself as an uninvited guest." Xemnas paused, letting his words sink in as he did every year. "Most of you, of course, will remember this date from your past lives as Valentine's Day. As our current nonexistence should help make abundantly clear, this is a holiday entirely manufactured to celebrate the artificial and pointless emotion known as love. This love is nothing more than a concept invented by those enslaved by their hearts, in order to add imaginary meaning to their soulless physical pursuits." At these last two words, Axel elbowed Zexion, who very pointedly ignored him. "It is my most fervent wish that none of you are affected by this useless occasion. Today shall be business as usual. If I discover that this is not the case, those involved shall find themselves fighting Heartless nonstop from dawn to dusk on the fifteenth – without weapons.

"That will be all. You may return to your breakfast. Your missions are on the bulletin board in the hall. I expect your full reports at the usual time." With this pronouncement, Xemnas sat and set about finishing his waffles. Either he didn't notice or didn't care about everyone else's reactions, because there was nothing at the table to indicate that his speech had fallen on anything but deaf ears. Axel alternated between savoring every bite of his waffles to kill time and shooting hungry glances at Roxas, slowly licking his lips and smiling contentedly in both cases (much to the conflicting assent and restraint of Number XIII). Larxene pinched Marluxia's cheek playfully (though hard enough to leave a bruise, which quickly healed anyway) and slinked over to her seat to enjoy the day's first meal.

It was Demyx who was most confused by the morning's proceedings – not because he hadn't understood the speech (it had, after all, applied to him), but because of Zexion's reaction. Throughout Xemnas's traditional lecture, Zexion had been oddly distant – not distressed or worried, but simply looking like he had been caught totally off guard. Demyx wondered why, and with a few gestures endeavored to find out.

Zexion, meanwhile, was staring at his waffles, consumed with surprise and wondering how in the worlds he had forgotten the date. "I was going to do something special…what was it?" His confused thoughts were interrupted by motion in front of him and to his right. To his initial shock and immediate realization that nothing was wrong, the water slithered out of his glass and onto the table, forming words on the surface:

What's wrong? You look almost beside yourself.

Zexion stared for a moment, flicking his eyes to Demyx, seated across from him with a curious and concerned expression. "Oh, nothing," he mouthed, shaking his head and motioning toward his glass. Demyx got the message, returning Zexion's water while continuing to watch him questioningly. Zexion picked up his fork, cutting another piece of waffle and eating it, but decided he was no longer hungry. He set his fork down, standing and snapping his fingers. A Dusk immediately materialized to clear his place. "Superior, with your permission, I wish to begin my mission right away," Zexion requested. Xemnas nodded, obviously uninterested in hearing an explanation, and Zexion turned on his heel and started for the large double doors.

"Beside myself…there's an idea…"

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: my first attempt at a romance fic. It should be pretty obvious from the beginning who the pairings are, so everyone except the militant XII/XI and XII/VIII shippers should be satisfied. Little bit of suspense there at the end, but nothing an imaginative Kingdom Hearts fan can't figure out after some consideration. I'll see if I can actually finish this week (I'm planning on only one more chapter) and make up for my lateness in uploading "Time."

Merry Christmas, by the way, Axel-Fangirl - this is your present! Thank you and everyone else for reading and reviewing, and might I simply suggest continuing to do so as we celebrate the holiday season? Christmas is about giving, after all, and reviews are worth as much to me as anything I might find under the tree on Friday.

Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, happy Kwanzaa (assuming you're one of the six people who celebrate Kwanzaa), and what have you. You're beautiful people, every one of you.

Love and thanks to all the readers,

Zellarius Burvenia