A/N: This story is purely experimental, with this being more of a prologue of sorts. Normally, I cringe in horror if my chapters are less than eight pages long, so if this continues, it most likely won't be in short increments. I had my wonderful beta look over it, so there should be few typos. It will have more... questionable things in the later chapters if it's continued, so be forewarned. Either way, don't expect much of it, and enjoy.
Some mornings, it was a wonder why he ever bothered getting out of bed.
Axel considered his coffee carefully as he leaned against his counter, swirling the sludge lightly in the cup. The normally black liquid looked like it had a bad case of pox, darker specks mottling the lighter creamy brown top. In most cases he just drank it without anything in it, if only because of the off-chance that this would happen. Today he had been distracted, figuring that he should try something new- which, of course, was utter bullshit. Normally he wasn't that picky with his food or drinks- if he was sure that it wasn't going to kill him or something of the sort, then he'd take it.
The edibility of this, however, was debatable.
As he stared down into the milky depths of hell that was his possibly poisoned coffee, he vaguely registered the sounds of muffled curses and thumps coming from what may or may not have been the direction of his bedroom, and when he heard a door open, he drawled softly, "Hope you weren't looking forward to a nice hot breakfast with anything more impressive than battery acid to drink," though his eyes never left his mug. In the back of his mind, he was contemplating the idea of dumping his drink into the sink and hoping that it didn't become a sentient being and decide to destroy him for disgracing it like that, almost completely ignoring the other person in the room.
Another muttered curse, and this time Axel could identify the sounds of at least two cups falling off his table, luckily not breaking in the other's clumsy rampage. He ignored it still. Raising the cup to his nose, he sniffed it, as if that would tell him how rancid it was. It smelt just like normal coffee, maybe a bit diluted- considering he put milk in it, it might have been worse if it didn't smell diluted. Could coffee even smell diluted?
"You know," he said absently, swirling the coffee again, "If you're looking for your clothes, they were thrown in the corner of the room." Not that they were there any more. Another sniff of the drink. "You're not very good with one-night stand etiquette, are you? In most cases, you are supposed to leave the night of the deed, not fall asleep and be dead to the world until the next morning. It's impolite."
Really, the kid should have known that he was teasing him. Axel looked up just in time to see an icy blue glare directed at him, followed by a scowl that would make even the most rebellious of teenagers jealous. "Oh fuck you. Didn't like it, you should have kicked me out when you have the chance." After a pause, he frowned. "I already looked in all the corners- the only thing I found was my shirt."
Of course he didn't anything else- after all, Axel had made sure to hide the rest of the outfit the second that he got up. He would have taken the shirt too, except for the fact that it would be suspicious. A pity; the shirt was big on him, covering up quite a bit more than Axel had remembered it covering the night before. The rest of him was, naturally, unclothed and shown off without an ounce of shame. At least he knew that when he had it, he should flaunt it. When he had brought the kid back to his apartment, he hadn't been expecting him to be even remotely muscular- the short blond seemed scrawny as hell when he saw him around the college they both went to, and he had thought that he would be a bit more effeminate in his appearance, frailer, and more fragile. He was dead wrong.
"Roxas, I doubt that your clothes would be under the cushions, but if raiding through everything is what rocks your boat," here, he punctuated his words with a shrug and a slightly condescending smirk, "then by all means, feel free."
Ooh, and didn't he love the feeling of that name on his tongue. Roxas. If he were a lesser man, he'd find some way to work that into a pick-up line. "Roxas, you rock ass. Feel free to rock my ass."?
No, Axel decided with an internal wince, that would not go over well. There was a reason he never wrote poetry.
Roxas, thankfully, was blissfully unaware of the other's horrible butchering of his name, and Axel was certain that if he could see his face, he'd see Roxas rolling his eyes. "Well, I wouldn't have to rifle through everything if someone would put down their cup and help me." A pause. "God damn it, Axel, that was a hint. Quit musing over your drink or whatever and help me find them!"
If Roxas had actually been looking at him when he said that, he'd know that Axel was staring at his ass, and not the drink. Either way, how could he ignore such a polite, delicate cry for help? With a shrug, he tossed the coffee into the sink- possible repercussions be damned- before setting down the mug and moving to assist him. And by assist him he meant being a general creeper and staring at his ass more, because really, what was the point of attempting to find the things that he had hid in the first place?
Unsurprisingly, Roxas caught onto Axel's general lack of helpfulness, throwing a cushion off the couch instead of turning to face him. "I wasn't meaning for you to stand there stupidly. Grab your cell phone and call mine or something."
"You mean the cell phone that died last night?"
See, he could be helpful, so long as it was only in the least helpful way possible.
Roxas froze. Obviously, Axel surmised, he didn't remember that part.
"I didn't remember that part."
Aha. Axel knew that he should have been a psychic.
In seconds, Roxas shook it off, standing up and turning to face Axel. Both hands placed on his hips, one said hip cocked to the side, he almost looked like the typical pissed off housewife, in a terrifying way. Not that your typical pissed off housewife wasn't terrifying in the first place. "Quit staring at my butt and go get me some of your pants."
Axel gave him an innocent grin. "And here I thought I wasn't being obvious. You know none of my clothes will fit you."
Once again, Roxas rolled his eyes. "Axel, you were about as obvious as a brick to the face. And I don't care. Just get me some damn pants so that I can rip this place apart and find my clothes. Weren't you the one that wanted me out of here anyways? I'm not about to parade out of here naked."
"Technically, you aren't naked," Axel pointed out. He had figured that it was a valid point to make- after all, it was the truth, with him being kind enough to leave his shirt out. However, when Roxas directed a particularly vicious glare at him, Axel stopped that line of thought, instead giving a deep, rolling laugh, shaking his head in amusement. Might as well let him have my clothes if I'm not willing to give his back. "Fine, short stuff, have it your way. I'll be right back."
He didn't give Roxas a chance to respond as he sauntered into the bedroom, stepping over various thrown items and the sort. While he wasn't about to claim that his place was the cleanest apartment in the world, it wasn't a disastrous mess. Not normally at least- after one night of Roxas in there, it was like a land mine went off. He certainly is messy when there's something in the way of what he wants, Axel noted, picking up a pair of green pajama pants. After a close inspection, he deemed them clean enough and went back out, cursing as he stepped on something decidedly solid.
Roxas glanced up nonchalantly from his place by the counter at the sound, seeming very much at ease despite his lack of clothes. "You know, you were right. This does kind of smell like battery acid," he commented, putting the cup down on the counter. Gesturing towards the pants, his lip curled slightly. "Those for me?"
Nodding, Axel tossed them, watching as Roxas fumbled lightly before catching the green fabric. "You didn't actually try drinking it, did you?" He asked, going to the fridge to rustle through it. From the corner of his eyes, he watched the blond pull the pants on smoothly, wrinkling his nose in disgust at something. Were the pants dirtier than he thought?
"Drink that crap? You kidding? It'd probably kill me or something. Tell me, how did you get it to that delightful sludgy consistency?" Leaning over Axel's shoulder to peer into the fridge, Axel noticed something that looked like a twist between amusement and disbelief. "Jeez, is that a science experiment in there? And I thought the coffee looked deadly."
"Clever. Care to comment on the horribleness that is my sad, chipped mugs? Or perhaps you'd like to pick on the pants next?" Axel quipped, pulling the questionable content out of the fridge and chucking it into the trash. He got a chuckle in response.
"Actually, I didn't notice the chips in the mug, and the pants are comfy. You're off the hook." He paused, moving past Axel to grab the milk. "This is a one time thing, right? And how come I feel like I've seen you around before?"
Axel blinked, then laughed raucously, grabbing pizza left over from the day before to set it on the counter next to the milk Roxas took. "You really don't remember?" At Roxas's blank look, he laughed again. "We go to the same college- you're in my math class." Grabbing a piece of pizza, he offered it to Roxas, adding with a grin, "And how often this happens is all up to you."
Roxas opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a heavy thud from the apartment above them, followed by shrieks and another loud thud. He looked up. "Why are my clothes on the ceiling?"
The things you can do with a staple gun.
Review? Let me know if I should continue it! (Or, conversely, why not to continue it. All up to you.)