Yay... this chapter is a ton longer than I originally intended... but hopefully it'll be good. I kind of brought it back around. Larxene really does care for him, but she's... err... you know. They're dysfunctional. As all living hell.
It'll get even more messed up later.
Trust me.
EDIT!
Freshly beta'd! Yes. Go thank Mousewolf... bow down and worship!
::: Déjà vu :::
There's always a lack of stuff to do this early in the morning, and as creative as he could be, Axel was less than thrilled to have to come up with something to occupy his time. Larxene was snoring… but it was kind of sexy, distinctly feminine.
If he were truly cruel, he could have kicked her off the bed and made her talk to him. Naturally, those kinds of conversations didn't really go so well, so he rethought the situation. He surveyed the room. Just books he'd already read through a couple of times, a guitar he didn't really know how to play, and old porno magazines he hadn't needed since lord knew how long ago. The dog was sleeping at the foot of his bed, silent as ever. That last, in and of itself, was pleasing.
Axel's dog was like a shark.
About two months back, a man had broken into their house and tried to make off with a couple handles of their good liquor and a pair of finished paintings that he was probably going to sell somewhere… What exactly does a man do with stolen paintings, and how the hell does he sell them? It seemed a rather foolish decision to the redhead.
Well, anyway, the dog was trained to be completely silent and wait at the door when someone unfamiliar came in. As soon as the dog knew what was going on, all eighty pounds of a growling, seriously angry Doberman Pinscher came crashing down on said burglar.
The guy's hands had been mangled. Mangled. And the best part? The guy claimed he had never even known there was a dog there until it was on top of him.
The redhead rudely pushed his supposed lover off of him and stepped over the animal. It sat up and gazed at him lovingly.
"Good morning Leto," Axel said softly.
Leto was up to his feet instantly and followed his master into the bathroom. Axel opened up the glass door to the shower, stripped what little clothing he had left off of him and jumped in, closely followed by Leto. The dobe sat down obediently as Axel turned on the water, thoroughly wetting his hair and letting that feeling of sweat-stickiness dissolve away. He finished with his initial round, then pulled the shower-head down and got Leto wet too.
"Alright… hair, hair, lovely hair," he mumbled.
He had one soap that took care of everything: it was this hippie soap you get at head shops when you're buying some clove cigarettes and incense. It was peppermint scented like no one's business, and the smell alone was strong enough to wake Larxene in the morning. He poured it into his hand, and then ground the palms of his hands into his scalp, working the stuff in and pulling some of the lather down across his chest. He worked it downward over his skin. It's just his routine.
Leto watched silently. He would get the hippie soap too.
Multi-purpose made Axel's world go 'round.
He rinsed out his hair, running a hand through it just to untangle some of the kinks. It was hard and coarse from years without conditioner, tough and wiry from abuses without number. It didn't really ever change; it just kind of stuck up everywhere in a porcupine's back of anarchy, much to the amusement of many a small child. Axel loved that. Little kids in that stage where they just had to touch everything were drawn to his fiery-red hair like a magnet, the upside-down teardrops, dark and bruise-colored beneath his striking jade eyes also providing a distraction. It was always the next thing to be explored, maybe punctuated by a closer inspection of the half-inch gauged holes in his earlobes. They seemed especially fond of the captive-ball rings that he used to keep the larger jewelry in with.
He quite liked kids, even if they were a bit annoying sometimes. Larxene just plain hated them.
He popped the rim easily out of his stretched piercing, ran a finger along the track and gave it a perfunctory sniff. Nothing important. It smelled sort of like stainless steel and salt, which was good. Ear stink was nothing pleasant, nor was it anything that a little daily cleaning couldn't prevent. He ran water through them, used some of the soap to lightly scrub the soft flesh of the inner track of the hole. He popped the rim back in and completed the same routine with the other ear.
"Leto, come."
The dobe stood up and padded over to his master, standing silently at Axel's side. The redhead turned the water off and picked up the bottle of soap, squeezed out a generous line along the dog's spine. Setting the bottle aside, he knelt and started massaging the soap into the dog's short, stiff coat.
He worked fast. It was pretty much time to take care of other things now. He didn't have time to waste. The paintings beckoned, as ever - but today… today was the day of the Opening.
"Dammit."
Leto gazed up with infallible dark eyes.
"I know, boy. I'm sorry," Axel mumbled, drawing the showerhead down and turning on the water. He rinsed the dog off and opened the door of the shower. Water turned off, both occupants shook off and stepped out one after the other, Leto following master.
He dried off with a towel that had probably been used three or four times before and then tossed it on the floor. Larxene would take care of it later.
"Loo?" he called out the open door, "Loo, you up?"
"Axel, shut the fuck up. You I hate that nickname."
"Whatever. Did you make coffee?"
"Yeah."
"Alright. Thanks babe."
He pulled Leto's towel off the rack over the toilet and ruffled the dog's coat until it was mostly dry. He didn't feel like using the blow-dryer today. Larxene, since she had gone back to bed, would probably shit herself.
He tossed the towel into a corner and playfully slapped the dog's butt. Leto barked loudly and tore out the door, sliding on the hardwood floor, skidding to a stop and turning to jump into that position that says, 'Play with me!' Axel laughed.
"Axel! Stop messing with the dog! It's too early."
"I'm going to go take him for a walk if you don't mind," the redhead replied.
"Not like that, I hope," she grumbled, following him across the room with her vivid electric eyes.
"Well, I don't think I could stand around naked in front of anyone but you."
"You're skinny again," she sighed. She sounded worried.
"Is it bad?"
"Yeah."
"Like how bad?"
"You can't tell? I mean, I'd think you'd be the first one to notice…"
He stopped digging through the wardrobe and ran his hands down his sides, inspected his hips with a pensive look on his face. His ribs were a little more prominent, he had to admit, and his hips seemed a little more gaunt… he knew one major factor though. He looked down to his chest, running his fingers along the raised arches of his collar bones…
"Shit."
"Yeah…"
"So you still think I'm over it?"
"Not any more. But maybe you're just forgetting things again," she said softly, materializing behind him, twining her arms around his hips. "You're always drunk and painting when I come home from work. You must be just forgetting."
"You're such a saint," he says simply.
"Why?"
"You don't have to put up with my shit, but you do."
She had a sudden twinge of guilt, and he could feel it.
"Yeah… um, let's get you dressed. It's getting cold out, so make sure you wear your thermals."
"Love ya, babe. Thanks for the coffee."
"Mhmm."
She vanished and the creak of the bedsprings told him she had probably gone back to sleep. She had the day off from her shitty job as a welder at some dry dock in the middle of nowhere which really made no sense. It was the middle of fall, and the weather was brutally beautiful, but the job was miserable as always because of all the equipment and the tedious nature of welding important pieces into place. They had to double check everything twice, three times even, just to make sure there are no weak points in the weld. If there are, they have to go back and do everything all over again. Larxene was, understandably, a perfectionist.
Axel pulled on his thermal underwear and over that, tight fitting black jeans. He had ripped the seams and custom tailored them to fit him perfect. An old band t-shirt and a battered zip up front sweater were next. He rolled up the sleeves of the sweater but left the black sleeves of the thermals pulled down, thumbs pulled through holes in the sleeves specifically for that. He slipped on his old checkered Vans easily, left his hair down. There was no point in messing with it while it was still mostly wet. To keep his head from getting cold, he pulled on an old beanie.
"Leto!"
The dog rounded the corner, leash in his mouth.
"Good dog. Good boy," Axel affirmed, taking the leash and collar and buckling it around the dog's neck. There was the hint of excitement in his big dark eyes, but there was nothing else that would suggest it.
He opened the door and the big dog followed him silently out into the hall. He took the elevator down, said good morning to the landlord who was out in the courtyard getting her little garden ready for winter's cold. She smiled and waved. She thinks that Axel is out of his fucking mind, but he doesn't really care unless she actually tells him that to his face.
The walk to the dog park isn't that far at all. Their routine is mostly ordinary, primarily uninterrupted. Leto strode beautifully at Axel's side; it was that long-legged, proud gait you only see in a pedigree animal. He had gotten lucky, knowing a breeder who didn't mind gifting him with a show-quality pup. In fact, Axel had let them show the dog a few times, and he'd done rather well.
He had watched with a little smile.
As soon as they're in the park, Axel turns the big dog loose, and he trots through the grass happily, interacting with the other dogs without any problem. Some of the other owners look a little nervous, but they calm after a while. Axel takes a seat on a bench next to another young man whose face was obscured by a knit cap with earflaps and a thick scarf, doubled up around his face even, burying him up to his eyes almost. He was scrawling something or other in a notebook.
"Morning," he said distractedly.
"Yeah… good morning."
That voice was so familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He found his eyes running up and down the page, devouring line after line of something that was probably a private musing, but he couldn't really help himself. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Axel was a firm believer that satisfaction brought it back.
"You're reading over my shoulder? That's rude," the other laughed, lifting his eyes from the page. They were bright blue like an ocean tide, unmercifully sane and sharp.
"I, uh…"
"Don't worry. It isn't like it's personal or anything."
He placed the notebook between them and yanks the scarf down off of his face and gave a little shudder.
"Not from here, huh?"
"I've been here a few months, but it's still taking time to get used to the cold up here," the other replied, "My dog's freaking out too. She almost wouldn't come out the door this morning."
Axel laughed. "Well, you guys'll get used to it pretty quick. It's nice during the winter sometimes. Doesn't quite get as cold in the city, so I think."
This guy is so familiar. Axel still can't pin it down, but he can't put down the feeling either.
"It's a good thing it's a little more dry climate-wise here though. My guitars are really sensitive to humidity. I used to spaz out every time I had to take my babies outside in 'Flahrida'." He laughed cutely.
"Florida, huh? I thought you had a funny accent," Axel observed, with a little snort of amusement.
"Closer you live to Miami, the more of a Cuban spice you get. It really doesn't matter who you happen to be, where you're from, or who you hang out with. It happens."
"Yeah… I don't know what we sound like up here…"
"Atlanta? Well… here in Atlanta you just all sound like country folk… not s'much as outside the city, but it's enough." He smiled slyly.
"Real smooth, buddy," Axel laughed, "You're not all that into tact are you?"
"We're not nice in Florida. Down there, I'd sooner punch a stranger than actually talk to them. People in northern states are so much friendlier. I like it."
"You think so?"
"Maybe not New York. I've been there… people are kind of…"
"Tough?"
"Yeah. Too cynical, maybe."
Axel nodded knowingly. "Aren't we all?"
"You're nice enough. I kind of like you already."
He was so open - a breath of fresh air in a stale room.
"Anyway, I think it's about time I got going… I know this café with really good coffee and cheesecake…" he said, packing his notebook away into the front pocket of a gig bag. It was the first time Axel had noticed the guy had an acoustic guitar with him. "I love the place. They don't mind dogs either."
"Neat," Axel replied. It was a knee jerk reaction, but when the guy looked him in the eye hopefully, he realized this wasn't just off-hand information. Was this an actual invite to lunch or something?
"Ah… you want to come? I'll pick up the tab…"
"Oh! God, I'm sorry. I'm so used to people just telling me things… um, sure. I'd love to come… and you don't have to pay for me."
"Nah, my treat. Honestly!" he laughed, "Zipporah! Come girl!"
Axel watched as a beautiful blue-gray borzoi trotted gracefully up to the man. He knelt and hooked on a leash, lavishing some love on the beautiful dog.
"Leto," Axel called nonchalantly.
Leto bolted forward, trotting to a stop at Axel's feet, looking up just as loyally as ever. Zipporah craned her neck to examine the other dog, and Leto did the same as Axel hitched the dobe's leash.
"Hmm… didn't have the heart to clip him, huh?" the young man asked.
"Oh, that… well, he's good breeding material. My friend who gave him to me still wanted to be capable so that they could breed him."
"That's pretty cool… Anyway, I totally forgot," he rose and extended a rough, callused hand. "My name's Demyx."
Axel, took the other's hand, winced. The guy had a damn strong grip.
"Axel."
"Oh, sorry… I can't really help it. Guitar hands," Demyx said sheepishly.
"Hey, don't sweat it," Axel replied. "I've gotten used to it."
He seemed to perk a little after that. A lie it was, but they tended to smooth some things over.
"So, shall we?"
"Sure."
--- ---
"Hey, we should keep in touch. Got a lot in common…" Demyx said softly. The smile on his face was unreadable.
"Uh, sure. I mean, we really get along great," Axel agreed, "Kind of weird."
"I know!" the blond laughed, scratching his head. Axel still couldn't decide if the kid had a mullet or a mohawk. "Here… let me… yeah."
He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, scrawled his number in big figures next to his name and ripped the piece off. He pressed it into Axel's hand.
"Give me a call sometime. I'm always bored, 'cause I really don't know all that many people. I'm going to this art show opening tonight with my cousin's band… Tradewind Gallery or something… I don't remember. They're going to be playing an acoustic set. And I guess there's going to be a visit from the hot-shot artist or whatever. He sounds like he's probably a pretty cool guy. Saw some of his work. I was practically drooling in like three seconds."
"Really?" Axel drawled, in an effort not to be overly obvious. The guy was completely oblivious.
"Yeah… I wish I had the cash. I would totally get one of those in a heart-beat," Demyx pressed his hand over his chest, "But alas! I am a starving artist!"
"Well, thanks for the compliment. Seriously, I'm flattered," Axel laughed, pulling a business card out of his wallet. "That's the number for my apartment, studio… whatever you want to call it. You're welcome to drop by any time you like."
Demyx stared at the printed card dumbly, eyes wide.
"You're kidding me…"
"I'll see you at the show tonight. Hopefully I'll make a couple hundred tonight… business has been pretty slow. Thanks for taking me. I'll have to come back here sometime."
He picked up the little box with a slice of chocolate cheesecake he'd purchased for Larxene. They'd spent a hell of a lot of time talking, and he figured it would be kind of an apology of sorts for staying out from about eight in the morning to one in the afternoon.
"Yeah… see you there," Demyx called with a little wave.
--- ---
Somewhere during the trip home, it struck him. Demyx was in his dreams. Was in his dreams. He couldn't wait for the show.
He could never have guessed that it would go as badly as it did.
