AN: This fanfiction is entirely a cure for boredom. I cannot guarantee any sort of skill whatsoever. I can't even guarantee any in character-ness. This fanfiction has one purpose and that is for me to blow off steam when I'm writing all these srsface Epics. –SERIOUS FACE- It is a ridiculous romance, humor with a good dose of cannon irony and gratuitous fluff.
Oh, and sex. Probably lots and lots of sex.
It also has no plot.
None.
Outside said sex.
Which isn't actually a plot at all.
Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Square Enix already owns. Or any of the other obscure references I put in for my own amusement.

10 Inches

Chapter 1

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"You're not the only one who brings tea to lunch, you know. So don't go thinking you're special."
Luxord paused in his teacup sipping and looked up at Zexion with innocence. After a moment he set down his cup with an indignant 'chnk' and responded,
"But how many of them are from Britain?"
"Please, Luxord. You were born on a plane flying over London. You've only been there for about an hour your entire life."
"Nevertheless, born in Britain. None of these people are British, thus none of them have quite the hilarity value as I do, whilst drinking tea."
To which Zexion finally looked up from his book and said aggressively, "So you admit you're doing it for the amusement value, and not any sort of tradition or heritage at all?"
"Precisely," said Luxord, scooting closer. "Zexion, who shoved a stick up your ass? You're usually not half this argumentative."
Zexion shook off Luxord's arm from his shoulder and slouched lower behind his book.
"….. Yazoo."
"Well. Hmm…. That's kinky-"
Luxord was saved from receiving Zexion's resulting death-glare by an interruption in the form of one blonde-haired tray-wielding deaf-by-headphones senior, who had proceeded to plow into him after tripping over his own shoelaces. The tray flew up into the air, disgorging its contents of jell-o and lasagna overhead.
Time seemed frozen for a moment, the kid's face horrified and Zexion's lips curving upward in a smile of anticipation. And then Luxord's hand shot out and caught the tray, balancing it precariously on the tips of his fingers as the jell-o and lasagna splattered together in a gooey landing on the puke-shaded plastic tray.
A pause.
The senior looked up from his position of sprawled-on-Luxord's-lap, confused about his lack of lunchtime filth.
"You lucky bastard." Commented Zexion mildly.
"No, love, skill. Not luck."
"Uh-um…. I- I'm s-sorry-"
Handing the thoroughly worse-for wear tray back to its owner, Luxord winked.
"No harm done, my dear…. What was your name?"
However, the boy only sputtered apologies for another moment and fled, blushing, without another coherent word.
Watching his back as he left, Luxord pouted in disappointment.
"Just can't stop, can you? Not even for people who're trying to kill you."
Zexion was referring to the fact that Luxord was well known around Radiant Gardens as the most 'experienced' player in the entire city. People just fell overfor Luxord's British charm, good looks, and crystalline blue eyes. He'd had boys and girls, vanilla and chocolate, in more situations than unwitting Zexion could count.
He might be able to count more than most, however, with a satirical boyfriend such as his Yazoo.
"Why yes, Zexion. The offer still does stand."
To which Zexion predictably sputtered in indigence, full of denial.
"Now, now, one of these days Yazoo is going to agree to share you and we'll make a party of it."
"He'd do no such thing! Yazoo has more sense and taste than that- who knows where you've been, after all… And besides, when have I ever tried to kill you?"
To which Luxord toasted him with his teacup as the bell rang, saying, "That's the brilliance of Zexion, my dear. I won't have any proof until I'm dead."

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High school libraries are remarkable. The school spends tens of thousands giving them computers and newspapers and books and biographies, and only about 13% of the student body actually uses it.
This 13% is usually comprised of people like Zexion (a nerd), and, on occasion, Luxord (when trying to look well-read).
"…not British, my ass… I'm full of Britain! Chocked bloody full."
He dragged his finger along the shelves in the international section, skimming the titles, looking for something thick without the promise of either not knowing what in the hell it was talking about, or being utterly, brain-rottingly boring.
"…trousers and tea and biscuits and all that…"
A title that looked promising emerged from all the drab books.
'The Norton Anthology of English Literature'.
"Lit-ra-ture... Lit...rit...ture."
Luxord smiled and put a hand out to tug it out to read it, but was- puzzlingly enough -met with resistance. He let go and eyed it suspiciously.
The book lay innocently on the shelf between two books on English tea ceremony and a book on Guy Fawkes, unmoving.
Then it began to slide back into the shelves.
Lunging forward, he grabbed onto the book and pulled it, trying to tug it out of the shelves. Someone on the other side gasped in surprise and suddenly the book was free, flying through the air toward him as if to say- 'What? Just a book I swear! See? Innocent!' –before he crashed into the shelf behind him.
All at once a blonde senior scrambled around the shelf and stared at him, buried in fallen books.
Luxord moved, and one of the books fell away from his face.
"….Still trying to kill me, I see."

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Fifteen minutes later the books were all back on the shelves in no particular order (Zexion would kill him if he ever found out) and Luxord had assessed that he wasn't critically injured.
He didn't tell the other boy this, however, taking the time to study his pretty features while feigning needing his help. The boy was skittish, but luckily couldn't bring himself to leave Luxord alone after avalanching a pile of books on him.
He ocean blue eyes, pale creamy skin (slightly freckled) and sandy-blonde hair, a mullet jelled into a mohawk. It was one of the strangest hairdos Luxord had ever seen, and he'd seen allot- Larxene's, for instance. Miraculously, the kid pulled it off and instead of looking like a dork, looked like a rockstar. Luxord found that he liked it.
In fact, he found that he liked just about everything about him.
The kid mostly looked worried, obviously afraid he'd hurt Luxord, but when he smiled at one of Luxord's jokes (which he pulled a lot, being Luxord) the expression lit up his eyes and melted Luxord's heart. Almost.
They put the last book on the shelf and the kid started edging away as if to flee, until Luxord put a polite hand out for him to shake.
"The name's Luxord Leblanc. Yours, lad?"
The kid hesitated, and he added with a pout, "Surely you at least owe me a name?"
"It's D-Demyx. Demyx Nocturne."
"Ah ha! So you share the curse!"
"The what?" The boy cocked his head quizzically.
"The 'x' curse. Haven't you wondered why so many others have such odd names?"
"Well... I kinda thought..."
"Thought what?"
"That there was a secret organization plotting to take over the school and steal all their hearts and they'd all changed their names to match."
"Steal their hearts?"
"Well.... You are the leader, right?"
Luxord laughed. It was true, he was friends with all the other kids in school with x's in their names. And he did do his share of heart-stealing.
"What about your name, then?"
Demyx muttered, "....Mine was just a coincidence."
"Nonsense," scoffed Luxord. "nothing is a coincidence. You'll have to join. And you'll have to be my friend now. No other way to have it." He shook his head sternly, as if to say Demyx should've gotten together with them sooner.
Demyx smiled tentatively, and then grinned widely as Luxord winked.
Things were, Luxord thought with satisfaction, going swimmingly.

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"…And so I told him he'd be with us from now on! Isn't it grand?"
He paused for an answer.
"Well?"
Vexen put his test tube down, looking over his lab goggles irritably.
"Luxord, when in this conversation did I ever indicate that I wished to talk about your personal life? When did I even indicate I wanted to talk to you? Why are we friends?!"
Luxord stared at his blonde lab partner for a moment over steaming chemicals, pondering the question.
"…. You and Zexion should get together sometime, you know."
Vexen threw his crucibles at his lab partner, and promptly earned himself an F in chemistry that day.

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End Notes:
Okay.
FOR THE LAST TIME.
I know nearly EVERY SINGLE LUXDEM FAN in the world is reading my stuff. There are few enough of us. Most of you are probably watching me.
So why.
don't
you all
FUCKING
REVIEW?!
I know lots of people read my fics- so why does my crapfic, my worst fic HAVE THE MOST REVIEWS? I don't care what's on them! Honestly, I don't! I just want to know you cared enough to read all the way down here. Send me a few dots and a space, I don't care! JUST LET ME KNOW YOU READ IT.
Gawd.