Disclaimer: I own as much as any yaoi-fanfiction-writer does.

AN: I just realized how much I am terrified of making Kimbley OOC. Which is happening, slowly yet surely. Still, I'm doing it correctly, right...? I mean, it's not just completely random, right...? --bites nails--

...I've been reading "Those Lacking Spines" by Organization VI on here (GREAT story! It points out all of the Kingdom Hearts fanfic trash that somehow or another ends up on the net), and now I'm friggin' paranoid. o.o

But I must press forward! On to chapter seven, my pretties! --witch cackle--

VII: Dare Ni Mo Kimi No Kawari Nante Nareru Hazu Wa Nai Kara

Somehow, Greed had managed to have dinner with them.

Kimbley's mother (it was strange to think of her in that way, but he would have to accept it as a fact now) sat near the stove in one of the chairs, making sure the oven didn't overheat. She stared attentively at Greed, wary of his presence. However, Kimbley didn't fail to notice how she kept massaging her temple, as if in some kind of pain. He didn't make anything of it, though. People do that all the time, right?

"So… you say you're a-- a friend of Zach's from school…?" she questioned haltingly, making sure she chose her words carefully. Honestly, Gregory must have been an axe murderer with a masochistic-streak, what with his looks, before Greed possessed him. Now, he looked like a greedy axe murderer with a masochistic-streak.

"Yup. We're best buds," Greed answered, taking a bite from an apple he had pilfered from the fruit-bowl on the table.

Janie had left the dog outside and she was curiously looking at Greed, her wide blue eyes shining in fascination.

"…Zach's never mentioned you," his mother said flatly.

"Really, now? We hang out all the time, I'm surprised he never told you about me," Greed said, acting overly-surprised. He was such a bad actor.

"…Hmph, well, Zach seldom talks about school. He used to, until a few weeks ago."

It seemed like no one cared that Kimbley (still technically Zach, but whatever) was standing there, listening to a conversation that was technically about him.

"Do those hurt?" Janie asked Greed, her eyes scanning over all the piercing in Greed's face.

Kimbley had to admit, she was damn adorable. At least she wasn't like most kids-- overly annoying and not cute. At all.

Greed grinned, and hoisted Janie up into his arms and onto his lap (carefully, of course).

"'Course not! They're actually pretty nice to have," he answered sweetly, causing Janie to giggle.

Kimbley would have never guessed Greed was so good with kids. He struck him as the kind of guy to axe a child in the face before lifting them up onto his lap.

Kimbley's mother smiled, looking quite relieved, just as the timer on the oven dinged.

"Oh, that should be the lasagna," she murmured, reaching into a drawer and fitting oven mitts on her hands, which Kimbley realized were shaking slightly.

"Mom, actually, I'm not all that hungry. I think I'd like to go to my room and rest a little while," Kimbley told her, getting up from his seat and pushing it under the table.

"Zach, don't be rude. We have a guest, for once," she whispered to him as she hoisted the lasagna onto the table.

Greed was listening in, of course, and replied sweetly with little Janie on his lap, "Oh, it's fine, Ms. Kenderson. If Zach's tired, he should get his rest."

After a moment, he added, "You know, I just might join him. Some rest sounds pretty good right now."

Kimbley's mother eyed him strangely again, but then decided it best to smile.

"Fine. But, please, no loud music. I feel a headache coming on."

"No problem, Mom," Kimbley called back, trying to add an essence of child-like innocence to his voice, but it coming out rather... not. In all honesty, he wasn't the least bit child-like.

Kimbley led Greed back to his room at the end of the narrow hallway and shut the door behind them. He thought maybe it was best that their discussions be kept between just the two of them.

Greed milled around the room, smugly looking over the hardly-varnished dresser, the clothes-scattered green carpeting, and the tarnished drugged-up and spit-out rockers' posters before sitting himself onto the bed with gratuitous grandeur.

"Geez, Crimson, is this what you've actually been reduced to...? I mean, Nirvana...? Please, my dear Kimbley, tell me you're reconsidering re-furnishing the place, and soon," he said, all the while placing a cigarette from his messenger bag between his fangs and taking a hasty puff after its lighting. (Chain-smoker...? Kimbley had become frighteningly aware of this realization after this particular cigarette's lighting.)

Kimbley sighed, not really understanding the whole point of this little digression from what he was trying to obtain. Honestly, he most certainly was not the one to decorate his room in "Nirvanas"... whatever those were.

And judging by the blank look Kimbley must have been giving, Greed took one last puff before saying in an exasperated tone, "Of course, I'm getting too far ahead of myself, aren't I?"

Kimbley nodded, past jaded with everyone knowing all and telling him nothing-- nothing but these infinitely un-bemusing flashbacks fuel him with any kind of know-how in this dimension.

And so, with a few pats placed at Greed's side, he offered Kimbley a seat. And perhaps... an explanation as t how life worked in this confounded universe.

A question would suffice to get the ball rolling.

"So tell me, Greed. How long have you and… Frank... been here?" he questioned slowly as Greed breathed in more smoke which was immediately discarded through his nostrils.

"A year, maybe. There-abouts. For some weird reason, time here just seems to be moving faster-- at least, that's my opinion on the matter. Maybe... being human is all about keeping track with time, and such. I don't know, I've never been a genius on the matter of being human, if you catch my drift."

Actually, Kimbley did, which he kind of wished he didn't on the matter. Recalling that Greed had, at one time or another, been a soulless doll (well, not from what Greed had told him, but still... Old beliefs die hard...) did nothing to ease the tensions around them. Still... he liked Greed. It was strange, the sort of sensation when he was around him, a sort of... queasy ease. Like walking a tight-rope, knowing that any moment you could fall to your death, but knowing that a safety-net of some kind was right there to catch you. Dangerous-- yet still perfectly fun.

Oh, on go the contradictions.

"So, I'm guessing you've gotten used to this world and whatnot, am I right?" Kimbley asked, risking his hand in swiping one of Greed's cigarettes.

"Well, mostly-- I thought you didn't smoke?"

"Didn't is the phrase. I do now," Kimbley answered quickly, groping at Greed's lighter and finally succeeding in getting the flame to come to life.

Actually, he didn't. Honestly, he had never smoked in his life, as far as his memories served him.

He lit up as casually as he could, though not without some difficulty, and took a deep inhale.

It burned. There's really no way to describe it, actually. He coughed, once, twice, thinking, 'How could Greed enjoy this shit?' before his lungs adjusted to the terrible organ-killing draft of smoky-death.

This definitely was, in no way, to become a habit.

"Y'know, Crimson... you're kinda... sexy when you smoke," Greed hissed, one of his hands choosing to travel along one of Kimbley's thighs, though cautiously.

Kimbley took another (forced) drag.

"Really, now?"

Was there any way in Hell that he was about to succumb to this come-on?

...Maybe.

"Really, Greed, you didn't want to come here to discuss anything. Truth is, you want me. I remember it, now. I could just... feel your longing. It's... funny."

"Really, now? It's... funny?" Greed asked, on the verge of annoyance, on the verge of allowing his hand to leave the sanctity of Kimbley's warm thigh, on the verge of just leaving.

"Yeah, it's just... I--"

"What?"

Kimbley paused, his breath falling from his lips like the black smoke from a dragon's fiery teeth. Was it to be this way...? Was this destiny...?

Well, screw destiny. This was his choice.

"...I wanted you, too."

The air lingered, stagnant, a time after the words came. Honestly, Kimbley hadn't thought-- barely even conceived-- that that would actually dint Greed's usually oh-so confident self.

But it did.

And then came the, "You're serious? You're not just pulling my leg, here? You're not leading me on, are you?"

To which Kimbley answered, "Kiss me."

Their lips met, though hesitantly, and all the loves-at-first-sight, all the untold promises, all the much needed release... it all seemed worth it. It all seemed... right.

By now, Kimbley's heart was in the process of breaking from his ribcage. He pulled away, quickly, trying to get his eyes to snap back into focus on Greed's face.

"Well, you told me to kiss you," Greed mumbled, stealing away Kimbley's cigarette which dangled loosely between his index and middle fingers and swiftly taking a drag.

"I was sure you'd refuse, given the circumstances of my betrayal."

"That... That doesn't matter anymore. Sure, it hurt, but now... now there's nothing to take you away from me. Being the greedy bastard that I am, I'm gonna hold onto you, never let you go, and do whatever I want with you. Say... as punishment...?" Greed finished off his explanation with one of his patented jeering grins.

"Hnn... I like the way you think..." Kimbley sighed, taking yet another (by now, extremely pained) drag on the cigarette. It still tasted like Greed-- sweet, ashy, old, despite the foul smoke-flavour.

Greed leaned back in, his breath brushing up against Kimbley's exposed neck, causing the latter to shiver.

"So, will this wanting of yours get me any benefits...?" Greed asked, his hand exploring further into Kimbley's thigh.

"Well... may--"

"Zachey, Greggy!! There's something wrong with Mommy!!" came a little high-pitched voice which resonated inside the house's small interior.