Author's Note: You know when you have like, two days with absolutely no inspiration and then at around 11 at night you are suddenly struck with the creative bug and you stay up until one in the morning writing, even though you know that you have to get up for work at 8 the next morning? Yeah. The first half of this was brought to you by one of those.

Disclaimer: -Add witty disclaimer here- I OWN NOTHING!!

Suggested Listening: Hairspray and The Producers soundtracks for the first part, anything from Groove Coverage, Cascada, or Ian Van Dahl, but especially Poison by Groove Coverage and Lonely from Cascada for the second part. Because I have been obsessing with those last two as of late. And they fit: lyrics, beat and all.

Other Junk: I'm upping the rating now so that people are forewarned. So, BE FOREWARNED! Now rated M for 'Mature' for future event(s). Okay, I'm done. Go on to read, my darlings.

Chapter 10

The pair tromped their way up the steel spiral staircase in the same apartment building that Roxas had walked Axel to the night before. They stopped before a door with curiously singed edges.

"Number 8A," Axel flicked the rusty half-painted '8' that was crudely screwed to the old door, and it flipped around lazily, swinging back and forth just so, "Commit it to memory."

Roxas snorted, "And why would I want to do that?" No, Roxas. Bad Roxas. No flirting with the guy you met just a few days ago.

"So when you see the billow of black smoke, you know where to send the fire trucks." A sly look and a mischievous grin was flashed in the blond's direction as a key rattled around in the doorknob.

The door was jarred open just as Roxas responded, "And you'll end up blaming it on Bloody Mary, right?"

Axel chuckled and yanked his key back out of the door, "Naw, she only cuts off the heads of innocent little blonds when they take a piss at midnight." Roxas choked and let out a wheezing cough, half from his recovering cold and the other from something that he did not want to admit to. He distracted himself by looking past the slim man and into his abode.

The first thing that hit him was the scent – identical to the one that had adorned the scarf that was placed around his neck on the day of their meeting. Axel reached over Roxas's head and flicked on the light, and the first thing that popped into the blond head was one feeling: warmth. The whole room seemed to have a red-orange glow to it, even though the light from above was just a white bulb with a foggy glass cover. The majority of the living room was taken up by a very comfortable looking couch with one of those Celtic bed cover/wall hangings draped over it – red and black, of course, with what looked like a flaming dragon in the center. Beside the obviously thrift store bought television, there was a lava lamp, which had turned on when the overhead light had. And, to little surprise from Roxas, there were a number of large and half-used blood-red candles sitting here and there.

For a pyromaniac psychopath, Axel certainly had style.

Roxas looked back towards the redhead - who was tossing his keys and book bag onto a small table beside the door - with an obvious look of awe and admiration for Axel's choice of decoration. The latter shrugged, "It's not as fancy or as huge as your place, but it gets the job done. It's my own little shack of paradise."

"It's pretty awesome," Roxas admitted, though he left out the part where he said he wished he lived there. Better not start the awkward silences too early. Axel disappeared around a corner to the right of the doorway.

"You want something to drink, Rox?" His voice carried around to Roxas from the kitchen.

Said blond crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe of the smallest kitchen known to mankind with a cocky grin on his face, "Got anything not-strong?"

Axel snorted and surfaced from his fridge-diving, gaze still intent upon the contents of the cold box, "Hardly. Still got a little more than half a year before I can buy it. Legally, that is." He twisted his hand around in the air at the last bit, "How about a Coke?"

Roxas shrugged, "Fine by me." He had a fraction of a second to uncross his arms as said soda was launched at him from behind the refrigerator door. Luckily, he caught it. Roxas definitely did not want to be responsible for the soda blowing up in his not-quite-friend's kitchen. Not unless he could blame the redhead for it. But he was feeling particularly generous that day.

Apparently watching a movie with Axel wasn't nearly as bad as walking next to him with his off-key loud and obnoxious singing. Even though he was mouthing out more than half of the words along with the actors and he insisted on singing – lightly, mind you – along with the songs, Roxas quite enjoyed it.

It was about halfway through movie when Roxas realized that the heater that he figured would kick on any moment didn't, in fact, exist. It was when a bone-deep chill ran through his spine that the blond actually spoke up.

"Hey Ax, got any blankets? I'm freezing over here." Luckily, he waited for a brief pause in the movie's dialogue, and the redhead's attention was turned away from it and to Roxas.

"Aw, little Roxie needs a blankie?" A condescending teasing tone was topped by a sly smirk from the other end of the couch, one unoccupied cushion between them.

Roxas growled in response, cupping hands over slim arms, "Little Roxie is going to die from hypothermia if he doesn't get one within the next minute."

Axel continued his smirk as he hoisted his lanky form out of his comfy spot, ruffling Roxas's hair as he passed by, "I'd rather you survive a bit longer." He made his way around the couch and returned moments later with a black and red – big surprise there – down comforter. Roxas was inflicted with the see-saw effect as Axel sat heavily on his side of the couch, though he was more sitting on the middle cushion than his own. He offered the blanket over, while keeping half of it on his own lap, "Here you go, Roxie."

Roxas was just slightly miffed, "Share with you?"

Axel smirked, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the blond, "Sharing, it's what friends do."

Roxas huffed, crossing his arms indignantly, "We're not friends and people who aren't friends only share blankets in dire circumstances."

"Roxas, your toes areblue," Axel stated pointedly, giving the blanket a shake.

The blue eyes widened, "What? They are?" He dropped his arms to the couch and leaned to look at his toes, but that was before a blanket-covered Axel tackled him. He let out a most manly cry as he was crushed between a lanky man and the over-stuffed couch with arms wrapped around them both and the redhead's arm around the blond. "Axel!" Roxas whined, squirming and kicking his free legs half-heartedly. The older man definitely didn't have any sense of a personal bubble what so ever, and the sandwich-wrapped blond's was being popped. Repeatedly.

Axel mimicked his whining tone, "Roxas!"

Roxas gave a most adorable – not cute – pout and continued his exaggerated whining, "Get your own blanket!" He was having such a time of protesting being glomped that he didn't notice how close their bodies were at that very moment.

"But Roxie, I've only got one bed. Why would I have two of these?" He made no move to remove his grip around the blond.

Roxas continued as he was, "Axel, get off, we're missing the movie."

Axel was honestly trying not to laugh his head off, "But I've seen it a billion times already!"

Roxas was reduced to uncontrollable – still manly – giggles, "But I haven't!"

"But I could always just pause it," Axel was able to get out between his snickers.

"But that would give me an unfair chance at stealing the blanket for myself, and then where would you be?"

"But, but! I could steal it back just as easily. Besides, all they're doing is running around in the ghetto."

"But I want to see them running around in the ghetto!" Roxas quickly rebutted, and he half expected Axel to respond with something along the lines of, 'I could run around in your ghetto.' He promptly relapsed into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.

Axel, after not saying what Roxas had imagined, laugh along, "Now I'm kind of wondering if someone spiked your Coke."

Roxas shook his head and gasped for breath, "No, it's just the caffeine."

"God, you're almost as bad as Demyx," the redhead observed, before getting a prompt elbow in the gut.

"Axel, movie." Still with a wide smirk on his face, he shoved at the man's chest and was surprised when he was actually released from the death trap of blanket and arms. Roxas sat up and straightened out his rumpled shirt and mussed hair while clearing his throat, which sounded more like a snort of laughter. The pair soon found themselves sitting albeit closer to one another than before, Roxas with his back leaned against Axel's side as he sat properly on the couch, the blond's feet tucked under the blanket that was cocooned about them both.

Roxas's toes were much pinker and actually had blood circulating through them, which was more than enough cause to celebrate. That, and the fact that the blond couldn't get the feeling of being bodily squashed by the most handsome dude he had ever had the chance to meet out of his head. Again, not that he would ever admit to it.

Another movie and a cheap Chinese take-out dinner later, the pair found themselves rather satisfied with life as the credits to The Producers scrolled on the screen. Each was howling with laughter at some odd comment that Axel had made, and Roxas found it quite hard to breathe without creating very embarrassing snorts, which simply elevated the laughter of the redhead.

Eventually, they caught their breath, Axel's head hanging backwards over the back of the couch and Roxas's on his shoulder. They fell into relative silence then, and before Axel jostled the blond by shrugging his shoulder/temporary pillow, he posed an evening-altering question.

"Hey, Rox. Ever been to a rave?"

000

The walls pulsed with the heavy beat provided by the improvising DJs at the head of the room. Not that Roxas could actually see that far, seeing that the fog machines were on overdrive and the laser lights insisted on creating epileptic-like effects. It didn't help that the darkcreatures with arms raised and erotic dancing were covering the entire floor area and Roxas could spot ten couples off the bat simply sucking face.

He was ushered on by a rather energetic Axel, quite cutting in to his observations of the place where he was about to… dance, apparently. And to answer Axel's question, no, Roxas had never been to a rave before.

Roxas tried his best to slip between the dancers, and was ultimately successful. He was somewhere in the middle of it all – slick bodies dancing all around him as if the entire population were one moving, living body. Which was when he noticed that none of them were his particular slick, dancing body with wild red gravity-defying hair. And that was when Roxas began to panic. He simply stopped moving altogether, not noticing the odd glance from dancers beside him.

When long fingers wrapped around his waist, Roxas thought that he had definitely lost it up until the moment that he turned his head around as far as it would go and met a pair of laughing eyes just feeding off of the pure ecstasy of the driving music and the faceless dancing forms. But, then again, that action by that particular redhead may have heightened Roxas's awareness of his surroundings and just exactly who was in it. Or, more like, who exactly was popping a particularly personal bubble.

The fingers caressed slightly with the swaying, giving the blond a hitching breath. A grand smirk gave way to a soft message relayed right next to his ear, "Relax and just move, Rox." The hands were removed, but even as the fingers left, Roxas could feel their heat and he sucked in a breath, convinced that all the blood in his body was currently taking refuge in his face.

He turned to face the beaming redhead and returned the expression.

Never in his life had he felt so free as in that moment. Hell, he didn't care about anything except the sheer pulsating sound of music and sweating, moving bodies. He didn't even turn around when his ass was groped by some random raver. But there was one factor he was constantly aware of that was constantly by his side. That one single male with the slim waist, cocky and ridiculous attitude, irrational love for strange movies and musicals, crimson hair, black tattoos, and a personality to match.

If Roxas gave one coherent thought through the entire ordeal, it would be one simple phrase.

I think we could be friends.

End Notes: I SO want to go to a rave someday. Oh, and you people ROCK my rainbow toe socks. Seriously. You people are the reason why I write this thing and put it up here. Otherwise, I would only be writing it for myself, and that's not nearly as much fun. So thank you to all readers and especially to my reviewers! On a different note, I am SO looking forward to writing the next scene.