Title: There Is No Spoon – Part 1 of 2
Author: Lost Experiment
Rating: PG-13/T
Warnings/Spoilers/Pairings: Yaoi. AU. Demyx/Zexion. Some passing references to various people/places/events that actually happen in-game, but if you're not aware of them you're not going to be able to pick them out.
Author's Notes and Dedication: Now, there are going to be a group of people who know me well, taking a look at that Zexion/Demyx bit and probably assuming that Yours Truly has been killed and there is someone, likely an alien, walking around in suit made from my flesh. Either that or they now know why it was that I made such a big fuss about giving information about this story away. A long story short: I hate this pairing and probably always will. Not to say I haven't seen well-written stories involving it, but mostly, I'm enjoying the writing, not the pairing. Recently, KHFFR (because where ELSE would I get ideas from?) has been discussing shipping and the wank that comes from shipping. So, I thought to myself, gee, wouldn't it be nice if just once, someone were to acknowledge that a pairing 'exists' and that other people like it. So. I'm going to be the person who does that. Ergo, this story is dedicated to those crazy people who like that pairing I hate s and now we can't be friends anymore /s …and anyone who ever wanted a little bit of sanity in their fandom.
In the bustling metropolis of Neverwas, the tall skyscraper near the center of the city was the source of much conversation. It was the proverbial mothership for the producers and developers of the Tron 3000 software, which monopolized the sales of home and office electronic products from Atlantica to Twilight Town. Their latest product, the 'keyBlade', a file-sharing personal music player had even managed to break through the anti-technology opinions of Destiny Islands shareholders.
With the success of the keyBlade sweeping the Worlds and Spokes-executive Lexaeus Waters just having announced the release of Tron 300X, it was little wonder that XIII Corp. was on everyone's minds. In particular it was eating the brain of the VP of Design, Marluxia Denton. Seated in the chain-coffee shop that had opened just in the base of the tower, Mr. Denton bemoaned his fate to the top-salesman in the division, Axel Collins.
Axel wasn't a particularly likable man as it was. He was loud and boisterous and rarely shut up. He told lewd jokes. He was the kind of guy who got roaring pissed at office parties, but somehow managed to be the individual in possession of all the blackmail photos in the end. On the plus side, Marluxia knew that any customer unlucky enough to reach Axel would probably end up spending a hefty sum over what they originally intended and he'd made more sales on his own than the rest of his department combined. While the two didn't always see eye-to-eye personality wise, Marluxia had a hunch that Axel's ability to schmooze in a similar fashion with his coworkers might offer some insight to the problem.
Lexaeus was of course, the perfect spokesman. He'd been well trained, and when he'd stood up at the stockholders meeting and introduced the Universe to the keyBlade, nobody, not even the local muckrakers at channel 13 News had gotten any sort of inkling that production hadn't been all roses. While Tron300X had been in production, Marluxia's superior, Xigbar had hired Demyx Lacoste with the intent of bringing in a younger designer. He had chosen well, as the item in question had been the brainchild of Lacoste. The problem had begun when the enthusiastic executives with the very excited young designer in tow had taken the new product to the senior programmer, Zexion.
"So Zexion's pulling rank, is he?" Axel asked as he poured cream into his coffee. "Listen Marly, I'm telling you, tell him he had his chance. I thought that when Xemnas and Xigbar decided to go public he explicitly stated that he wanted to stay in programming oh…and the Ice Queen wanted to stay in R-and-D. If he doesn't want to play nice with Lacoste, why don't you just tell him that's his beeswax, but keep it out of the office."
Marluxia, marveling at the seeming endless stores of company intelligence a mere salesman should have no access to, stared into the black depths of the cup as if hoping it would perform the suggestion for him. "That's not all. The incident with the wireless information transfer-storage feature?"
"You mean the long, froofy sales pitch I got all memorized only to learn we weren't releasing the damn feature with this model?"
"The same." Marluxia pursed his lips, remembering his own office altercation. "Well, Xemnas wants that released on the 2.0, you know, with some Tron300X compatible software. Well…"
Zexion Middleton slammed the door to the office open then just as violently slammed it back closed. As expected, a blonde puff of hair scurried out of sight and Zexion made his way to his desk.
"Violence doesn't solve problems." Luxord, a fellow developer called mildly from his own cubicle.
"No, but it does intimidate them into going away for awhile." Zexion snarled, sitting down at his own desk and absentmindedly flicking his mouse to bring his computer out of sleep mode. He could hear Luxord clicking his tongue, but he didn't care.
He finally glanced down when he realized the mouse was nowhere to be found, then did a double take. "Oh, for the love of…" he muttered. "Fucking mature, Lacoste." His whole computer was missing, a deck of playing cards set up for a game of solitaire in its place.
A snort of laughter echoed from Luxord's cubicle instead. "Hey, why've you got it in for Demyx anyway? Guess you're still sore about the idea-stealing thing." He clicked his tongue again. "Anyway, the cards were my joke mate. I thought it was pretty good, since I caught you playing solitaire no less than three times the other day. Plus of course, a little payback for deleting all my music and replacing it with that bloody Twilight Town band I hate last week."
"It's still immature." Zexion grumbled, but more because he felt like an idiot for accusing Demyx aloud. A smirk spread across his face though as he unlocked his bottom drawer to find his tower resting safely inside, and the monitor tucked under his desk. Being privy to all the source code for the software it was tradition for the producers and designers to pull pranks on each other. In particular, Demyx and Zexion's had gotten rather out of hand as of late.
As he refastened the cables and turned his computer on, Zexion replied to Luxord's other question. "Of course I'm still pissed off at that bastard. How would you like to go into Xaldin's office, after making a big to-do about a revolutionary new idea, only to find it's already been mentioned and approved for production. It was embarrassing Luxord. Damn embarrassing."
The blonde designer winced, in spite of having heard the story a half-dozen times each and every day. "Ouch. You never mentioned it was Xaldin before. That is rather freaky. But like they say, sticks and stones love. You can't prove it was Demyx, and you probably never will." As far as Luxord was concerned, Demyx was an okay guy. True, he didn't know him as well as Zexion, but he wasn't planning on partaking in a vendetta that was based on hearsay. "Just be happy it's going to be produced at all, and enjoy the company camping trip next week."
Zexion stared at him a moment, then smacked his head on his keyboard and the device beeped its anger in reply. "I forgot about that…I hate camping. The outdoors smells funny."
"That would be why you're a pasty rich boy working in a poshy computer company. Suck it up."
Zexion glared daggers at him through layers of cubicle wall padding, even though he knew Luxord was being ironic. "Tell me something."
"What?"
"Is Lacoste at his desk?"
"Nope, I think he went to "get coffee" when you arrived."
"Awesome. Watch the door."
"Why?" Luxord was wary.
"I found midget porn last night when I was downloading movies. I thought Demyx might need a new screensaver."
Luxord laughed in spite of himself.
Zexion hated the company camping trip. In his opinion, camping began and ended in a hotel where there was no room service. He seemed to be in the serious minority however. The rest of the employees bustled happily around him, taking little notice of his allergies or disinterest in the festivities. Larxene Jones was making the most of her new bikini as she and her coworker Roxas Weldon regaled a small crowd with their infamous tales from the Tech Support division (Smack it. Smack it harder.). Axel Collins from marketing stood nearby, laughing loudly along with them and occasionally interjecting with some of his own narcissistic stories about how he'd made some of his more spectacular sales.
A short distance away, Xigbar, Xaldin and Lexaeus were discussing the games with Xemnas. This was Zexion's least favorite part, considering that the unwanted physical activity was always mandatory. They promoted 'teamwork' or some equally ridiculous sentiment. Xigbar was enthusiastically going over the rules for Woodsball, the outdoor paintball tournament Zexion had desperately been praying the VP would lose enthusiasm for after last year when his winning streak had nearly been broken by an accident involving Larxene nearly taking out his eye. Xigbar always won anyway, so Zexion didn't feel the burning need to participate.
The only friendly face who felt the same way he did was Vexen, another of the six original partners back when the company was 'Xemnas and Associates'. Vexen worked in Research and Development, and was as most claimed, literally married to his job. He was something of a role model for Zexion, who also realized his talents were better suited to maintaining a level of quality in the production of their products as opposed to public affairs.
"I don't know why they must do this year after year." Vexen groused, with Zexion nodding enthusiastically in reply. The small amount of his skin that was exposed was glistening with oil, and the other man suspected he must have slathered on a few hundred bottles of sunscreen to protect against the bare sliver of sun that was peeking through on the warm but overcast day.
"I suppose it is four-to-two…" Zexion sighed reasonably. If Vexen had a shortcoming, it might have been that he'd expected Xemnas, Xigbar and Xaldin to protest his decision to remain head of research and development instead of cutting himself a slice of the corporation pie. "They are our superiors." He added. If this had been the office, he would have been quite content to admit this. Out here, the mention of it made him all but shudder.
Vexen blinked at that, then his thin lips twisted into what he must have thought was a smug smirk. "I see that your friend Mr. Lacoste will be participating."
"Everyone will be participating."
"Yes, I know. I didn't think you'd want to miss the chance to get a shot in."
Frowning at the tone of voice, Zexion shook his head. "It's not that big a deal." He said at last.
"Isn't that a tad hypocritical of you? Perhaps you're just jealous."
Zexion's tone turned mild, and he fought not to laugh. No more jealous creature than his friend existed. "As satisfying as it would be, I don't think hitting Demyx with a paintball is going to prove he plagiarized my work."
Vexen moved off after that, presumably to get away from Axel, who was still chatting to Roxas nearby. If you listened to Vexen tell it (and admittedly, most people didn't), Axel had apparently 'nailed him right in the spine' with a paint ball last year and he was still 'permanently bruised internally'. Zexion still sincerely doubted this was true, but his mind was more fixed on Demyx. Too many people knew about his altercation with the other man as well as the fact that he was very concerned with what most deemed a very small issue. The name 'Demyx Lacoste' was accredited to the creation of the product, and would remain so, whether or not Xemnas, Xigbar and Xaldin acknowledged where various features originated. Perhaps he was overreacting; had Demyx been a true plagiarist, someone with a team of lawyers would have long ago been banging on the doors of XIII Corp., demanding they accredit the keyBlade to them. That of course had never happened.
Maybe Luxord and Vexen were right and Demyx had come up with a similar idea on his own. He was still thinking this and forgot to protest as Xaldin handed him a paintball gun, face mask and compressed gas cartridge. Before he knew what was happening, the game had begun.
Swiftly, Zexion realized how deep he was in over his head. Guns were nowhere near his area of expertise. He panicked when a green paintball flew by his ear, cringing for what seemed like hours before he realized the supposed adversary had been aiming for someone else.
He struggled to his feet in the ditch, feeling foolish in the silence. Through a crack in the trees he watched Larxene, Axel and Xigbar engaged in some kind of dreadful sniper war. While he was contemplating shooting himself in one of his own pads to get out of the stupid game, his back seized up suddenly.
"Ow, fuck!" he groaned, one hand reaching to rub the injured area.
"Yes! Revenge!"
"For what?"
"I believe they call it 'defamation of character'" the other person said the last slowly, as though reading the pronunciation from a dictionary.
Zexion hurt terribly, and he was incensed. Everyone was wearing the same camouflage padding and masks but he definitely recognized that voice. "Demyx!" he tried to growl in an intimidating fashion.
"Me." The blonde came into his field of vision and leered down at him. His paintball gun was pointed directly at Zexion's heart. It didn't take a genius to realize that although the guns were obviously not loaded with real bullets, getting nailed with one anywhere really sensitive would still hurt pretty bad. Zexion did the sensible thing: he tried to convince Demyx not to maim him within an inch of his life.
"Look…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of plagiarizing my idea. Luxord was right. I doubt you could have…"
In response, Demyx blinked, his long lashes fluttering innocently against his cheeks. "I know what you think. Well…well guess what!"
"I'm wrong." Zexion filled in. "I realize that now. Maybe we can—"
"You are wrong…" Demyx was facing away from him, his shoulders shaking. Zexion's eyes widened. Surely he hadn't made a 20-something man cry. That would just be pathetic.
"… now. I did it." Demyx continued and wheeled around suddenly, pointing vehemently at Zexion who could do nothing but blink. "I stole your idea, of course. Who else. And it's paying off dearly."
Zexion could do nothing but stare after Demyx's retreating form. He didn't even bother to close his jaw.
In the end, Axel shot him in the back of the leg, which had brought him back to reality. He wasn't exactly sure how long he'd stood there after his conversation and he got hit again by Riku, one of their summer interns on his way back to camp. Normally something like that would have annoyed Zexion, but he barely noticed.
"Survived, did we?" Vexen asked, coming up behind him as he arrived. He was rubbing his shoulder, which probably now sported a rather large bruise. "I thought you'd be back sooner. Who was it?"
"Axel." Zexion said absentmindedly. "Who won?"
"Xigbar of course, though it was honestly a close thing for Xaldin this year. Larxene is shitting bricks. I advise not going near the cabin for awhile."
"Charming." Zexion had meant to go get a bottle of water, for the dual purpose of holding it against the bruise that was forming from Axel's shot. "Where the hell can I get some water?"
Vexen was surprised by his co-worker's temper. "Um, there's a cooler over by the tents. Are you going to tell me what your problem is, or are you just planning on sulking and snapping at everyone who comes by?"
Zexion thought about it. If he was going to talk about what had happened in the woods with Demyx, Vexen was probably the wisest choice. "I'll explain, but we need some time. It's a bit of a long story."
"We have time now. They got the boat into the water and most people are down waterskiing. Thankfully, we don't have to participate, as I personally wasn't planning on making a further arse of myself."
"Is Demyx there too?"
"Do I need to answer that? How many of these trips have you been on?"
"Good."
Zexion turned towards the rows of tents and campers, and located the cooler Vexen had mentioned at the far end. He wandered back through the rows slowly, stopping intermittently to hold his drink against the injury. When he looked down, he saw that he was standing by a familiar blue tent. A quick peek inside confirmed that it was indeed Demyx's.
What he was thinking of doing was ridiculous and petty. They were grown men, not college kids. But the more he stood there the more tempting it became. Vexen could wait a few moments – he would find out whether Demyx was a plagiarist or just an ass hole by the end of this weekend, by making his life a living hell.