WOO. Update in less than a week, to make up for the fact that I didn't update for two months. And it's an extra long chapter, too! See? I do love you guys. :D

One day later, Zexion Drew was pacing his library, waiting for Demyx Dolor to come pick him up. He'd considered wearing his nicest bowtie, but decided that was just too flashy, so he tried to dress casual in his usual sweater vest and khakis. Unfortunately, just as he was about to let anxiety get the better of him and set off for the school himself, the little bell over the door rang, and a customer came in. Normally that would've thrilled him, but not this particular customer, oh no.

Riku Spears.

He was clutching a stack of fliers, just like before. He walked straight up to the counter like he owned the place. Damn city kids.

"Hi. Sora still can't find his dog, so we're putting up more fliers. Is there anywhere in here I could put one? You know, for foot traffic…" He paused, blinked, and looked around. The slightest of frowns passed his lips. It was quite obvious that no one ever came into the library- the place was pristine. But even so, Zexion had to stick to his anti-soliciting guns.

"I can't put fliers up in a library," he sniffed haughtily, as if Riku should have known better, which he absolutely should have. "You can use the telephone pole outside. But you'll have to get your own stapler." He picked up the library's stapler off the desk and stuffed it into a drawer. Riku stared at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" Zexion said nothing, and simply stared him down- or rather, up- he wasn't very tall. After a long moment, Riku rolled his eyes and turned to leave, narrowly missing Demyx Dolor as he came bounding through the entrance.

"Hi, Riku," said Demyx cheerfully.

"Hi. You seen Sora's dog?"

"Nope!" Demyx chirped. Riku muttered something most definitely vulgar under his breath, but left before Zexion could rake him over the no-profanity policy. Damn.

Demyx bounced right up to the front desk, where he stopped abruptly, and a long and awkward silence commenced. This was it, after all. The two of them were going into the field together. Once they walked out that door, there was no turning back.

"Hello, Demyx. How was your day?" Zexion asked stiffly.

"Good," answered Demyx, with equal formality. "How was yours?"

"Good," said Zexion. He shuffled his feet. Luckily for both of them, Demyx was rather impatient, and also particularly immune to awkward moments.

"Shall we, then?" he grinned. "My show's on at eight, so we have to be back by then."

"Your show?" Maybe he should have asked 'what is your show?' or 'you have a show?' or something else full-sentencey like that, but like usual, Demyx understood the abridged version, and happily took to the job of hauling the conversation along.

"The Golden Girls," Demyx gushed. "You ever seen it? I mean, it was on in the 80s, but it's still so good now, I watch it every day even though I've seen every episode a hundred times." And so, he regaled Zexion with tales of his favorite T.V. show, and the conversation flowed along easily. Marluxia McCoy lived and operated out of an old house on the outskirts of town, and Demyx hadn't brought his car, so they had a nice long walk to get to their destination. You know, like boyfriend and boyfriend. Zexion's heart was all a-flutter.

"-and then Dorothy says, 'You know why that is, Blanche? Because you're over fifty'-"

He hadn't really talked to Demyx Dolor that much. Listened to him talk to other people, yes, admired him from afar, yes- but he'd never much had the courage to actually talk to him himself about anything other than library business. He was amazed at how easy it was to talk to him. He didn't feel uncomfortable at all. And he was fascinated by all of Demyx's little speech quirks, the way he giggled at his own jokes, his intense and passionate love for a show that frankly sounded terrible. He just had so much life in him.

"-and Rose says, 'I mean, he sounds very nice, for a drifting ex-con,'" Demyx finished. "Oh, look! We're here!" And they were, indeed.

Marluxia McCoy's shop, if you could call it a shop, was also his house, and also Larxene Carlyle's house- it was a building of many purposes. Besides his vibrant and almost certainly not-natural pink hair, the man gave off no indicators of being a lover of plants- he had to have some sort of green thumb, though, since the flowers he grew to sell were everywhere. Outside, inside, in-between, on tables and in windows, all different colors and quite a few varieties Zexion suspected he'd created himself.

Demyx and Zexion meekly approached the gaudy and flowerful nightmare, passing a dilapidated garage on the way. Some weird creaky noises were coming out of it, and since the door was swaying on its hinges, it was obvious that it hadn't housed a vehicle in quite some time.

"D'you think that's where Saïx stays when he's here?" Demyx whispered. Zexion internally kicked himself for not making the observation first. His new partner was a natural talent.

"What kind of arrangement do you want?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, I don't know. Classy but funky. Something that says 'Hey parents, I'm cool!' without making it look like I have bad taste, you know?" Demyx paused to smile sheepishly. "I don't really know anything about flowers."

"Yeah, me neither," Zexion sighed. "I guess that means we'll have lots to talk about with them."

"We?" Demyx asked, confused. Then he understood. "Wait, no! You can't come in with me! It'll be too suspicious." He pulled Zexion down into sort of a football huddle, as if a football huddle in the yard wasn't suspicious, either. "You need to stay outside and observe! Find a place where you can see inside and take notes."

"Are you joking!? You can't go in there by yourself!"

"There's no other way, Zexy," Demyx said solemnly, and Zexion had to begrudgingly accept that he was right. No matter how hard he wished otherwise, at this point in time, he and Demyx Dolor shopping together was certain to turn heads. Safer for one to stay outside. And since Demyx was the one making the order, he was the one who had to go in.

"Ok. I'll be watching. Just be sure to signal if it gets rough in there and you need help."

"Gotcha," Demyx nodded. He flashed one of his beautiful pearly-white smiles. "Wish me luck!" Before Zexion could even answer, he turned and made a beeline for the entrance. He was going in.

"Good luck," Zexion whispered, and he immediately started looking for a hiding place near a window. Giant pots of flowers were strewn around everywhere, and for once, he was in a situation where his purple hair wouldn't stick out like a holiday nightmare. He chose an assortment of some flower he couldn't identify and crouched down behind it, journal in hand, with a perfect view into one of the house's smaller windows. Demyx was already inside.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" he asked, and Zexion was surprised that he could hear him speaking quite clearly. All of the windows were propped open, probably so the insects could get inside to pollinate the flowers. He made a quick note.

"Coming, dearie," a low voice warbled, a voice Zexion instantly recognized, the only voice he knew of that could make a warble sound manly. Marluxia McCoy. The entire old house seemed to creak with dismay as he went leaping down the stairs to where Demyx was waiting. All Zexion caught was a wild flash of pink before Marluxia left his line of vision. He risked a scoot to one side to get a better view.

"Hi Marluxia," Demyx said. Zexion saw him stiffen. As friendly and personable as Demyx Dolor was, he was an absolutely terrible liar. Zexion watched him glance around the windows, as if trying to find his hiding spot.

C'mon, Demyx, he thought forcefully. He'd already been approached by the police for 'stalking'- he wasn't sure what would happen if Marluxia McCoy found him hiding among his flower beds. And this time, there would be no gay porn collection as a consolation prize. Oh God, what if Demyx found out about his stolen gay porn collection!?

"-wanted to get some flowers for Parent Teacher Night," Demyx was finishing, at an unnatural pace and with a distinct waver in his voice. He looked around at all the windows again, like a trapped mouse.

"Ok, what kind?" Marluxia drawled, completely uninterested.

"Uh… the flowery kind," Demyx said lamely. "Just some flowers." Marluxia raised an eyebrow, and Demyx quailed. Zexion quailed a little bit, too, by association. Who knew that someone with pink hair could be so intimidating?

"Just pick some out," he said. "Yell when you're done." He turned to leave. Well, that had all gone reasonably well, but they didn't have any information. They needed to investigate- that was why they were here. And Demyx wouldn't have the guts to sneak into the rest of the house like Zexion had. No, this was all backwards- they should have sent in the professional- he would have to sweep in and rescue Demyx, just like in his fantasy-dreams. But just as he was preparing to mobilize himself, he came to a rather startling revelation.

Demyx was gone.

Zexion scooted back and forth, peering into the different corners of the room. There was no Demyx to be found. He looked behind himself, too- had Demyx run away? Was he fleeing back to town now? The poor guy couldn't take the pressure. He'd spent one hour as a detective and he'd cracked. Zexion shook his head. He shouldn't have pulled Demyx into this, not this soon-

"HEY. What the hell are you doing!?" A door to the back of the house slammed open, and Demyx came tumbling back into the house, chased by a rather irked Larxene Carlyle brandishing a shotgun.

"I'm so sorry. I thought there was more store," he said, frightened yet mechanical, as if it were a prepared excuse. Which it was. Zexion was a little impressed, in spite of himself. His heart went all a-flutter all over again. Demyx was just so dreamy.

"Of course there's no more store, dumbass!" Larxene snarled. "Honestly, kids these days-"

"Larxene, dear. What have I said about threatening the customers?" Marluxia was back, apparently having heard the commotion. He swept into the store- a sweep was the only way to describe the way he walked.

"Please. I was arranging flowers while you were still in diapers," Larxene huffed, but she lowered the gun. Zexion frowned. Was Larxene being sarcastic? She didn't look a day over thirty, and Marluxia had to be at least that age himself- if she was old enough to have changed his diapers, she was unbelievably well-preserved. He made a note.

"Have the pets been fed yet?" Marluxia asked. Pets!? Zexion frantically looked around for dogs. He hated dogs. But none had attacked him with their slobber and untoward friendliness yet, so he figured he was reasonably safe.

"I ain't done it," said Larxene.

"Well, could you? I'd ask Saïx, but you know how he is with blood. The food's in the meat freezer-" meat freezer!?- "downstairs by the, you know."

"I know where you keep your pet food, Marly," Larxene sniffed.

"I'll take these," Demyx said quickly, pointing to a bouquet apparently at random. It was a little early to pull out, but if Demyx couldn't take the heat, well, it was his first day. He'd get better.

"Ok," said Marluxia, and he swept over to the cash register. "That's twenty dollars." Demyx hurriedly pulled a bill out of his wallet and put in on the counter. "Thank you for your business," he said formally, with a little bow.

"Yeah, you know," Demyx said nervously. "Gotta keep the parents happy." Larxene scoffed.

"Please. You want some real hardship? Try giving birth." And with that, she disappeared into a door that must have led to the basement. Marluxia disappeared back into the back of the house. Demyx turned and rushed out the door, and Zexion stood to meet him.

"So!?" Demyx asked excitedly. "How did I do!?" Absolutely wonderfully and I love you, thought Zexion. But he couldn't give too much positive reinforcement too soon. This wasn't a game, after all.

"We'll talk once we're off the property," Zexion said lowly. Demyx's eyes widened, and he nodded, clutching his huge potted plant a bit closer. The two of them shuffled along down the dirt driveway, back past the shady garage, and were almost to the main road when they ran into the very last person Zexion wanted to see.

Saïx. The local murderer himself. They said he'd only gotten out of a life sentence by pleading guilty and allowing the family to have the pieces of the victim's body back. And then he'd escaped anyway by digging out of the complex with only his teeth and fingernails. It was rumored that under the light of the full moon, you could see the blood on his hands.

"Uh," said Demyx. Zexion stayed silent.

Saïx stared at both of them, one at a time, his sleek yellow eyes lingering only momentarily on each face. Then he appeared to lose interest, took one step to the side, and walked around them, continuing on to the house. Both men swallowed hard and looked at each other.

"He had yellow eyes," Demyx whispered. "So help me God, yellow eyes."

"It's not safe," Zexion said out loud. His thoughts were racing. What if they'd been found out? "Split up, we're harder to follow that way. We'll reconvene at the library in half an hour." Demyx nodded firmly.

"Got it." Demyx and Zexion set out in completely opposite directions. Zexion went in the direction of town, going past Strife Delivery Services and getting nasty glares from both Cloud and Leon, before crashing into Axel del Fuego and earning himself an angry si queso nos spaca, whatever that meant. But he sounded angry.

Demyx beat him back to the library by a few minutes, and was loitering outside the locked door. Normally Zexion hated loitering, but since he'd asked Demyx to meet him here, he supposed he'd have to make an exception. He unlocked the door and the two tumbled inside.

"Oh my God," Demyx whispered, even though they were alone. "That was close." He put his plant on the counter. The flowers brightened up the library quite a bit, and Zexion hated it. Libraries weren't meant to be bright.

"So, what did we find out today," Zexion said, his tone businesslike. He opened up his journal and began to read aloud. "Saïx might be living in ill-kept garage."

"That was my idea," Demyx grinned. Zexion gave him a don't-you-dare-try-to-write-in-my-journal-again glare and he went quiet. Zexion continued reading, to stop himself from feeling guilty.

"Lots of exotic plants. Is Marluxia breeding them himself?"

"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that."

"Larxene made joke about changing Marluxia's diapers. How old is she really? Will investigate."

"She also mentioned giving birth," Demyx said. "I mean, you don't think she has a kid somewhere, do you?" Zexion blinked. He thought giving birth was just one of those things women talked about. The idea that Larxene had had a baby hadn't even occurred to him. He made another quick note in the margin, that read simply:

LARXENE OFFSPRING Y/N?

"That was my idea, too," said Demyx.

"And, Marluxia has a meat freezer in his basement, where he keeps his pet food, which is bloody," Zexion finished, tapping his pen thoughtfully on his lip. "There are more questions than answers here. We may have to go back."

"Yeah. And there was nothing at all in their living room. Just guns and dead things. I was good though, wasn't I? Sneakin' in like that?"

"Of course you were."

Blink.

"Guns and dead things!?" Zexion gaped. Why had this not been mentioned sooner!?

"Oh, you know, bear rugs and mounted heads and stuff like that. That old Remington Larxene attacked me with, she pulled it off the wall." The word 'Remington' was entirely foreign to Zexion Drew, but context allowed him to apply it to the gun he'd seen.

"They have a room full of guns and dead animals," Zexion repeated more slowly, trying to take it in.

"They must just like hunting or something," Demyx shrugged. "The gun thing is normal. Everyone around here has at least one. Heck, Xigbar has at least twelve, and those are just his display collection." He glanced over at what Zexion was writing.

Marluxia and Larxene have a room full of guns and dead animals. According to partner's intel, this is unremarkable, and everyone in this town owns a gun.

"So? Aerith wasn't shot," Demyx said. The words didn't reassure him. Zexion Drew did not like guns. They were noisy and messy. Zach Tuesday never used a gun- he fought with his fists, like a man. Demyx cocked his head.

"You can't tell me you really didn't know that? You don't know the people in this town very well. Maybe you should get out more," he teased. Zexion huffed and put his journal away.

"Whatever," he said petulantly.

"I'm more freaked out about the pet thing. I mean, that must be one helluva dog, if they're feeding it actual meat. Or maybe they can't afford real dog food? The house and yard were kinda run down," Demyx mused. He yawned and glanced down at his watch, before yelping and jumping to his feet.

"Sorry! Gotta go! The girls are on!" he said hurriedly. "Call me for our next date, ok?" With that, he bolted out the door, leaving Zexion seated and confused, a warm glow bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

Their next date. Demyx Dolor said they'd been on a date.

Zexion Drew pranced out the door, locking it behind him. Call me for our next date, ok? Demyx sang in his mind, though as his imagination worked the memory over, Demyx's clothes mysteriously began to disappear. He hummed to himself rather atonally- Zexion Drew was no musician- as he walked next door to his house.

Only to have his joy come tumbling down with a sickening crash.

While he'd been out, Riku Spears had procured a stapler, and posted MISSING DOG fliers all over his normally pristine front door.

I was sitting there, trying to think of what Demyx's favorite show would be, and I could TOTALLY see him just loving the Golden Girls, which is also my favorite show. Well, that and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. xD Gold stars to anyone who can name the episode he's acting out for Zexion's benefit! Also, fun trivia: in my first draft of my Zemyx oneshot "Really Bad Clothes," their names were Zexion Zbornak and Demyx Devereaux. LOL.

Tune in for our next installment, where Zexion Drew heads to the police to report this most recent act of hooliganry. Hijinks ensue.

REVIEW PLZ :D If I can't reply, it's not that I love y'all any less- it's the two jobs thing.