Disclaimer: I don't own kingdom hearts. There, I said it. Now let me go cry myself to sleep.
A/N: Guess who's back? Back again! Yeah, that's me, the crazy hyper slash-addict Cyanide. Hope you likey, coz I had a great time writing this one. Dedicated to my friend Mark, just because it's slightly confusing, a little bittie wierd and kinda scary. Constructive cristicism feeds the hungry, muntinous Plotbunny, who is currently unnamed. If you can think of a name for it it'll love you forever. Yeah, the Plotbunny's an 'it'.
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I leaned my back on the door, listening to the conversation from inside.
"Yuffie, are you sure about this?"
"Of course. Not scared, are you?"
"No!"
"It won't hurt a bit, I promise."
"You're lying."
"Yeah, but just try to ignore the pain. You get used to it after a little while."
"But... this is my first time!"
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you."
That was a rather... strange conversation, to say the least.
"Aw, you have Moogles on your boxers!"
What the hell were they doing in my kitchen?
"Shut up and just get this over with."
"Touch-y."
"Hey, not there!"
Not where?
"I have to! Hey- you're not ticklish, are you?"
"So what if I am?"
"Then maybe I'll just take some of this and put it here!"
"No! Ow, that's hot!"
"Well, what did you expect?"
"I didn't expect it to burn my skin! It's pretty sensitive there, you know."
"I know, I know. But you lost the bet."
What kind of a wager was this? There was a short gasp, and my head was filled with a muddle of disturbing thoughts. I heard a muffled thud, then another gasp.
"Sora! Look at the floor, it's a mess!"
"Well, it hurt, OK?"
"Ugh. Go outside and wait till I heat up a new batch."
The door opened and Sora came out, still in his boxers - which did, in fact, have Moogles on them. He looked up at me, and I gave him the most confused look in the world. He pointed at his leg, where a portion was stripped of hair and bright red, and I nodded sympathetically before leaning my head past the kitchen door and looking at the girl with a bowl of wax in her hands.
"Yuffie, wax his legs in your own kitchen."
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A/N: I'll leave who's kitchen it is to your imagination. Remember, name the Plotbunny!