Wow. Thanks to those of you who added this to your faves and alerts, and special thanks to agent-to-the-rescue for being my first reviewer! A slightly early Christmas present for everyone- unsuprisingly, this is what I produced when I decided to tackle to "Christmas" prompt. Feedback is always welcome, so I'd love to know what you think.

I'm not sure how well the second person present works with this, but it seemed to fit at the time. Hopefully it reads OK. ^-^ Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: After liking Demyx for so long, it all amounts to this one moment at a Christmas party. Zexion isn't all that pleased.


Prompt 92- Christmas.

Cliché.

It's strange. You spend days watching him. You spend weeks learning all you can about him in that secretive way of yours, asking subtle questions and lurking in the background, memorising every fact to slot into place with the others later. You spend months realising that you love him more deeply and desperately than anyone else in existence. You spend years agonising over what to do, coming to terms with the fact he's barely aware you exist, let alone that you feel so much for him.

And then all of a sudden here you are, eyes wide as you try to shrug the heavy hand off of your shoulder and above all remember to breathe as you stand face to face with him-

- and all you can think is how cliché.

You know that maybe you should be reassured by the fact that he easily looks as stunned as you do, reflected as you are in those blue-green eyes that you've spent so long wishing would take you in. He stands before you as awkward as ever, all hunched shoulders and too long arms, as though he'd grown taller than expected and never quite learnt what to do with the excess. A small smile tugs at his lips as he reaches one hand up to scrub at the back of his neck.

He's nervous.

You can feel the heat spreading over the bridge of your nose but force yourself to keep the same calm expression of disinterest that you've perfected over the years.

You're nervous.

"Uhh...Zexion, right?" he asks, laughing a little because this whole thing is so obviously more than awkward. You nod, amazed he remembers from your few brief introductions but you keep it from your voice.

"Yes. Demyx." You mean for it to sound like a question but it comes out more like a statement, so used as you are to his being the centre of your universe. Luckily he doesn't seem to notice and just nods too- perhaps he's too distracted by the catcalls and laughter of the watching crowd circling you.

"Man...this is awkward, huh?" he says, trying to break the ice maybe, sensing that you're not amused by all this but without seeming to grasp why. He gestures up- you glance up above you and narrow your eyes at the mistletoe hanging there, wishing it would spontaneously combust or something. "Guess I'd better get Axel back for this later, right?"

"Yes...I suppose I also have someone to...thank." you reply, shooting a poisonous look sideways at Lexaeus- the traitor- who now stands back, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. You'll get your revenge on him. His days are numbered and he knows it.

"Well...guess we'd better...y'know..." Demyx is continuing as you look back at him, "I mean...there's no getting out of it really..."

"It's no big deal." you cut him off, unable to listen to him wrap himself up in tangents that amount to you both having not intended to end up here together now.

He looks up suddenly from where he's been tracing patterns in the carpet with his gaze, surprise evident on his face. "It's not?"

"No." you answer with a shrug, forcing your heart into a corner so you won't get caught on the shards as it fractures and falls apart. "It's not."

And it's really not. What are small kisses under the mistletoe at a Christmas party except tradition? What will this be to Demyx in years to come except something to laugh about with his friends when they go for a drink? And what does it matter that this might be all you ever have?

"O-OK." He shifts from foot to foot, not quite meeting your eye, then adds in a mumbled "sorry" before darting forward. You go numb as you see him loom closer, arms hanging heavy and loose at your sides as a hand closes over your shoulder and you barely have time to shut your eyes before his lips meet yours.

It barely lasts three seconds. One moment his lips are light and dry against yours; one moment his nose is bumping yours; one moment you feel as though he's leaning almost too much on you, almost enough to overbalance you both-

- and then the next, it's gone.

It's gone. He's drawing back; he's letting go. There's a sharp wolf whistle from behind Demyx- you guess it must have come from Axel- and he's turning towards it, back into the real world, away from the kiss, away from you-

You have a split second to decide. And in that split second you realise that you aren't happy. You haven't been happy in so long, living in a permanent state of limbo, and you can't stand it any longer. You can't bear the idea that the one time you might be close to Demyx has just been and gone with barely any chance to register it before it was over. It doesn't seem fair that he can just turn back to real life and no doubt carry on just as before, whereas you'll spend sleepless nights replaying the event over and over in your mind, scrutinising each and every last detail.

So in that split second, you decide that you aren't happy to leave things as they are: hurried, half-hearted, barely there at all.

You decide to act.

As he turns, your hand shoots out and closes tightly around his wrist. The effect is immediate- his head jerks around and he stares at you over his shoulder with wide, confused eyes, looking for all the world like a deer in the headlights. You don't give him a chance to think though, knowing that if you do you might fail before you even get to try, and instead you tug on his wrist hard to pull him closer. It's surprisingly easy. He stumbles towards you, body turning to face you and ending up mere inches from your own. From there, it's as simple as winding one arm around his waist to close the gap, reaching the other hand up to the back of his head to pull him down, swallowing the last of your nerves and kissing him.

He's warm- so warm. That's the first thing you notice, vague in some distant corner of your mind. His lips are soft and hesitant against yours, so you press closer, coaxing his mouth open with your own.

And then suddenly he's holding you as well, fingers of one hand digging into your spine whilst the rest brush your hair back from your face and cradle your head. It's him who brushes your tongue with his, tasting faintly of the beer you saw him drinking earlier before you were both forced here by respective so-called friends. You've heard of people trying to pour all of their being into a kiss but you'd always dismissed it as yet another cliché, something pretty for romantic stories but ultimately useless or impossible in real life. Still, after the mistletoe, what's one more cliché? You push your doubt and your cynicism to one side and just give in, kissing him with all the pent-up emotions built up through years of hopeless longing, determined to enjoy it as much as possible if this is all you've got to last you a lifetime.

Of course, clichés like this don't take simple things like a need for oxygen into account, and so eventually you have to part. You're both flushed and breathless as you untangle yourselves from each other and the noise from those watching seems strangely distant. All you can see, smell, sense is him. He's not moving away again and you can't understand why. In fact, you're downright stunned when he jerks his head towards the door, a questioning expression on his face, and maybe even more so when you find yourself nodding in response. His fingers seem to be laced through yours because now he's leading you by the hand through the dispersing, chattering crowds towards the back door. You focus on the back of his blonde head, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. You're still so surprised by the whole thing that you barely even register Lexaeus talking with a lanky red head, let alone think to throw them a sarcastic line as they smirk at you.

A wave of cold air hits you as you step out after him into the garden. It's so dark out here that it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom and notice his oddly serious expression. He takes a deep breath; you raise an eyebrow.

"Zexion," he says, rushing his words, "When you said it was nothing-"

"And it's not, really." you interrupt, knowing he must be suspicious and wondering whether you can pass the whole thing off as taking up the silent dare the situation had posed. "We never have to-"

"What if I said I don't want it to be nothing?"

And somehow, despite years of practiced and perfected stoicism, that one sentences catches you out so much that not only does your jaw drop open but that you also stutter your ever so eloquent reply.

"I-I...you...w-what?"

"Look, I know you must be thinking 'what the hell? I barely know the guy!' right now, but Zexion..." He shakes his head, hands spread helplessly. "Oh man, Zexion, I really like you!"

You're not dreaming- you feel far too cold for that, which can only mean that this is really happening. This, the unexpected declaration of love from the other party, just like in the stories. So you respond in the only logical way there is.

"They put you up to this, didn't they?"

"I- what?" He seems genuinely confused, maybe because you've figured it out so quickly. You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose and explain.

"Lexaeus. Maybe your friend Axel, maybe others, I don't know. Lexaeus probably organised this though- after all, he's the one who knows how I feel. He probably thought it'd make my Christmas, getting to kiss you and hearing you like me too." You laugh a little hollowly. "He'd be right too, except for it being false."

"False? But I'm not-" Demyx protests, then pauses. "Wait...you like me?"

"Of course." you say, eyes narrowing a little in suspicion. "That's why we're here, ri-"

You're cut off by his mouth on yours. If possible, this kiss is twice as passionate as the last, and when you break apart to gasp for air, Demyx is already talking hurriedly.

"Axel pushed me forward under the mistletoe. Is Lexaeus the really tall guy, built like a bear?" You nod, unable to speak. He's holding you too tightly against him for you to be able to wriggle free with ease. "I thought so. I saw him talking to Axel earlier on and they kept looking at me, it was kinda creepy." He laughs somewhat nervously. "Anyway, Axel knows I like you, he always tells me I never shut up about you and sometimes he even threatens to set my hair on fire if I don't stop talking about you." Another laugh. He seems to realise he's rambling, shakes himself and continues, "Well anyway...I think he set me up. And I think Lexaeus set you up too. If you really do like me, that is."

And in the end, all the days, weeks, months and years of agony amount to this: three sentences uttered quickly in a garden in the freezing cold night as he holds you close. All the doubt, all the grief and all the desperation ended with a few simple words. He's shaking, but you're not sure whether it's from cold or nerves. Your heart is pounding so hard that you're wonder if it might burst out of your chest. You look up at him and find his face again wearing that grave expression that doesn't suit him at all.

"And you...really mean all this?" you ask, voice low. He nods eagerly.

"Of course! Look, let me take you out sometime, maybe before New Year's Eve if you're free. I'll do anything to prove it to you."

"You...you don't have to prove it." Despite the cold, you can feel the heat spreading across your nose again and wish you weren't so pale and prone to blushing. "I believe you. I just...it's a shock, that's all. I never thought..."

He laughs, mouth widening into the grin you've seen so many times before. "Me either! I never thought...well, if you believe me, then that's great, but...I'd still like to take you out sometime."

You smile back at him, finding his smile too contagious to resist. "I'd like that too."

This time, neither you nor he initiates the kiss- instead you both lean in and meet in the middle. It's sweet and brief, and when you pull away you realise he's shivering still.

"Let's head in, yeah? It's freezing out here." You nod in agreement, letting him take your hand and guide you back towards the door. "So...do we thank Axel and Lexaeus, or do we get revenge?"

You laugh at that as you step into the kitchen again, head still reeling from all that has happened. Mistletoe and confessions in the garden have somehow led to you holding hands with the very person you'd thought of as unattainable for so long and smiling as he turns to kiss you again. It's like something out of a storybook, but as he wraps his arms around you, you give in and suppose in the back of your mind that some things are cliché for a reason.