It was a cold night that fell over the castle in the World that Never Was. But this was no surprise, as this world was draped in eternal night, and all of these intertwined and lasting nights were quite chilly indeed.
But as standard and repetitive as the night was, tonight was brewing trouble. And its name was Vexen.
A few circumstances had let up to this point in the night... This winter holiday season was fast approaching, and Lexaeus had been cooking up a storm for a few days now. The season may not have shown in weather, but it did in the habits of the castles inhabitants. They may not have been whole with all of the bells and whistles that came with having a heart, but their memories certainly demanded some compensation. Also, the normally well-minded Demyx had forgotten something of his in the kitchen; a music player, complete with earbuds. As well, after a long day with nose to the grindstone, Vexen had been drug aside by Lexaeus and Zexion--both of which were keen to loosen the man up, as a stressed and cranky Vexen was an especially deadly one.
So as it stood, somewhere are two am, with more than his fair share of spiked and spiced eggnog in his system, Vexen jacked the player and wandered out into the halls, drunk as Xigbar on New Years.
And that was quite drunk.
It was also under these circumstances that Vexen decided that it was quite alright to dance. He knew how, he just rarely did--as it wasn't a hobby he liked to upkeep in the presence of the others. And if one were close enough, you could hear him stumbling over lyrics, humming whatever he didn't know. The most of it--from his lips at least, sounds like a whole lot of "hey hey you you I don't like your girlfriend" over and over again.
Things had been going wonderfully for Number 11 as he relaxed after a long day. He had spent the evening leaned back in his favorite chair with a snifter of brandy and a book titled "Plants Are Still Like People" by one Jerry Baker as he hummed along with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Afterwards, he had settled in for the night and was resting, snug in his bed.
That was, until Vexen went staggering down HIS hallway, drunk and singing Avril Lavigne, jarring the pink haired Organization member out of his sleep.
"Zzrk?!" Marly glared into the darkness, his hair sticking up awkwardly as he tried to locate the source of his annoyance. After realizing groggily that the perpetrator was in the hallway, he tossed the covers off and stormed to his door. Yanking the door open with a bang, he stormed after Vexen and clutched his hand in a fist in an attempt to keep from jerking the headsets from his superiors ears as he regained his composure.
Which was pretty difficult to do in pink, sakura petal footie pajamas, "Could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to get some sleep."
The music wasn't up very loud at all, so Vexen heard the grumpy Eleven quite easily. "Sleep is for the weak, Marluxia--" he slurred rather quickly, pointing an accusing finger at the other. "You wouldn't believe how little I get working my ass of to please you and the goddamn Superior and--" His rant cut off immediately and jarringly, like a kid flying over the handle bars of his bicycle. Vexen thereabout gave the save face as the aforementioned (and nonexistent) doomed child.
For a moment, he was silent--just staring the other down, wearing a mortified look of Ohjesuswhatthehellisthat. --and then he burst out laughing, loud enough he'd wake the whole castle if he wasn't careful.
"Homo!" he laughed, holding his stomach. "Those pajamas! Oh god--you're a--" he stopped again, wearing an expression of shock and revelation...then promptly burst into laughter again. "--but you're NOT! Don't you get it? It's a paradox! Homo--! You know! --like homo habilis! --or homo sapien! But we're NOBODIES, don't you get it?! You are, but you're not and--" The man was going to give himself a cramp from laughing so hard.
Marluxia took a step back, his face screwed up in a confused and disgusted expression at Vexen's outburst, "What are you babbling on abou-"
His face dropped into a blank mask as he slowly looked down at the aforementioned pajamas, and silently swore to himself, grabbing at it as he glanced away from Vexen, embarrassed by being seen in his unusual choice in sleep wear. He lowered his voice into a hiss, hunching over slightly as he looked around to make sure no one else was in the hallway, his face now tinted with panic, "For crying out loud, lower your voice! Do you want to wake the whole castle as well? Yes, I get it, we're Nothings, and you think my winter pajamas are funny. Woo, big laugh, hahahaha."
He turns to look down the hallway once again, paranoia creeping into his mind, "Now that you've had your laugh, could you go now?
"I'll lower my voice when you pull your head out of you--" he hiccuped, going cross-eyed for a moment. Oh--Vexen was going to regret all of this in the morning... He was a pompous ass, but he wasn't stupid. He'd blame all this on Five and Six tomorrow--possibly give them more chores or something else menial like that. At the very least, it would give him time to sulk and hide in the lab, far far away from Marluxia and whatever wrath me might wish to bestow upon him.
"--you--you and your pink hair and flower petals--" Vexen ranted, an earbud fallen from his ear with the other balanced precariously with the other, certain to fall soon. "--and your flower petals and underlings and--and--EGO!" Vexen threw his hands in the air, ending on a shout. "--I don't understand you at all! --always smirking and plotting!"
And then came the unexpected.
"Why can't I be as popular as you?!"
It probably wasn't the correct word for it, but it came close. He'd always worked so hard to gain the admiration and respect of others...it never really worked, but he tried. And it always confounded him why so many other thought Marluxia was the greatest thing since sliced bread... It was just so infuriating!
Marluxia sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache built in his skull – He truly did not want to suffer a drunk, "Maybe it's because you try too hard. Ever thought of that?" He straightened up, his expression cold, "You spend so much of your time in that hole and being… You… When you aren't in hiding, that it's a surprise anyone even knows you exist.
"I on the other hand.." Number Eleven smirked, chuckling, "I spend much of my time out where they can readily get a hold of me without getting threatened by a sleep deprived troll. Now, speaking of sleep, I'm going back to bed."
He waves his hand flippantly, shooing his superior away like he was fanning a flame, "Go back to your cave and ask that again when you're sober. And bathe first, you smell like a brewery.
Now sadly, a sober Vexen would have as much of a comeback to that one as a drunken one. The man was not witty. He was snappy and easily angered, though luckily, liquor seemed to dull that down a bit.
Narrowing his eyes at the other, Vexen straightened up a bit--as if to try and seem more sober (which he was not), and only succeeded in gaining his height back against the other. He was taller, wasn't he? "You...your father was the Cheshire Cat, wasn't he?" Vexen said, scowling. "Smirking...dirty son of a--" he sneezed and left it at that, turning swifting on the heel of his boot (and nearly tripping and tumbling headlong into a wall) and left.
Vexen indeed got his shower that late night, and passed out somewhere later, deep within the library, sprawled out on a couch, wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe...
"Early" the next morning, a certain pink haired member of the organization stepped lightly into the library, setting a dark object onto a table near the sleeping Vexen with a click. Putting on a set of earmuffs, Marluxia aimed the boom box towards Vexen, attaching two extra speakers to it and setting them up on either side of his head, careful not to wake the scientist. He then left the room and returned with a floor lamp with a swivel neck, plugging it in.
Turning the light on, he smiled softly as he stood beside it, looking like the cat that ate the canary, and used a remote control to click the boombox on.
-BADADA BADA DA DA DAAAAA!-
Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, starting two thirds of the way through, played at full blast over all speakers with a mighty flare of horns and cannon fire, and Number Eleven turned the light to glare into Vexen's face, a broad grin plastered on his face, "HAPPY HANGOVER, VEXY! TIME TO WAKE UP, SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK, ISN'T IT!?!"
Marluxia, bitter? Neeever.
Sleep was a happy place--a calm and serene place...only disrupted by a slowing mounting pain right behind the eyes. And that would be the hangover slipping in. Vexen groaned and shifted a bit where he lay on the couch. What started as a light sting was slowly turning into a dull throb.
Ow.
--it also didn't help that he could hear something shuffling about in the room. He gave a grunt and curled up. He honestly didn't want to wake up. He had already begun to ache, and now-- -BADADA BADA DA DA DAAAAA!-
--the fanfare. For the first time in his life, Vexen found himself damning the Anvil Chorus of the 1812 Overture. Yes. Damn it to hell.
But on cue of the lights and music and screaming, Vexen screamed right back, hands flying up, trying to block out that horrible light and oh god his headache was threatening to split him in two and--
THUMP.
In his flailing, Vexen tumbled off the couch. "MARLUXIA!" he howled. "I will KILL you!"
Marluxia clicked the speakers off with the remote, sending a sudden hush through the library, the only sound that of Vexen's pained shouts. Waiting for the threat to fade into the muffled silence of the library, Marluxia tossed the remote control to Vexen, it thumping softly against the scientists chest, "Well, that was entertaining. Next time you're drunk, avoid my hallway and I won't have the need to do something like this again. Enjoy your new boombox, I have no more use for it now... Maybe you can now sing along with your music in your own damn room rather then outside my door in the middle of the night."
He lifted the lamp from the floor and rested it over one shoulder, his eyes hard, and then he shrugged, turning away with a flutter of sakura blossoms.
Vexen seethed and glared so strongly, you'd think his demeanor enough could cause the next ice age. But he held his tongue and let the other leave in his flurry of flowers and...ick...Marluxia-ness. And while he stood there in a growling, unhappy mess, Vexen realized something; Marluxia really had left the boombox behind.
--so he hoarded it back to his lab, stuck a classical CD in, and went to find one of his higher-sentient experiments for a game of chess to calm his nerves. He'd find some subtle way to get back at Marluxia later.