The next morning Vexen looked terrible and refused to even get out of bed, so Naminé kissed him a little better, tucked him up with Snjór in his arms and made her way downstairs to think.
So Larxene was in a horrible mood, Vexen was miserable and Marluxia just didn't make any sense whatsoever. And Naminé, although not feeling responsible, was determined to sort things out. The common room was empty, the television screaming nonsense at nobody. Naminé switched it off and threw an empty crisp packet into the bin. Larxene was moping in the kitchen. And she'd got a plaster over her nose.
"Oh, not you too! Are you okay?"
Half expecting Larxene to brush her away, Naminé busied over her a little more tentatively than she might otherwise have done, but the other girl didn't seem to displeased by this display of worry.
"Marluxia," She said as Naminé checked the damage and deemed it Not Too Bad. "He punched me in the face. Out of the blue. It hurts like a bitch."
"Marluxia punched you?"
Naminé couldn't believe it. Marluxia was too nice to go around punching people! That didn't seem like the amiable pink-haired man at all.
"He's a bloody psychopath, that's what."
"Somebody beat up Vexen, too," Naminé said solemnly as she sat down next to Larxene. "It... it couldn't be Marluxia, could it?"
Larxene shrugged.
"I wouldn't put it past him."
Naminé considered this with a horrified thought. What if Marluxia really had beaten up Vexen? But why would he come rushing to Naminé afterwards? Why would he offer to pay Vexen's rent?
"No, I don't think it was him."
"Why not? He punched me in the face, why wouldn't he beat the crap out of Vexen, too?"
"Well, he came to get me so I could look after Vexen-"
"- To make himself look like he didn't do it, no doubt," Larxene interrupted. "Vexen didn't go out. I'd have noticed if he did. So it must have been Marluxia."
"But why would he-?"
"Who knows what's going on in that insane mind of his?"
Naminé honestly didn't, so she made herself a quick jam sandwich for breakfast and then headed back upstairs. She was determined to find the truth out somehow, but obviously not now because Marluxia wasn't in his room. So what else was there to do but tiptoe back into her own room, still darkened by heavy curtains across the window?
"Vexen?"
There was a messy bundle of duvet and blankets at one end of the bed, which wiggled vaguely and humphed as Naminé laid her sandwich down on the desk and climbed onto the mattress.
"Vexen, are you okay?"
She tentatively reached out to pat the pile. It squeaked.
"That's my bottom."
Naminé quickly drew her hand away.
"Oh. Sorry."
Moments later, a head popped out of one end of the bundle, not where Naminé would have expected it to be. Vexen looked somewhat harassed, which was quite an achievement considering he'd been alone for the past hour.
"How are you feeling?"
Legs extended from the duvet as Vexen rearranged himself into a more elegant position, simultaneously digging himself deeper in amongst the bedding.
"Same as always."
Naminé sighed a little. Everything was desolate, nothing made sense, somebody had to be lying and she hated being confused. So she steeled herself, gently manoeuvred Vexen into a position that at least made her feel marginally more comfortable. She cleared her throat.
"Vexen. We need to ta-"
The phone rang.
"- One moment, I'll go get that."
She hurried out of her room and onto the landing where Larxene had already beat her to the phone. The older woman glanced at her, mid sentence, and suddenly rolled her eyes, slouching and pointing with disgust to the phone.
"Yeah, no, don't call again."
There was a murmur at the other end of the line and Naminé could have sworn she'd heard Vexen's name distinctly mentioned. But Larxene interrupted the stream of barely-words with a hiss.
"I don't want you calling this number. Yeah, look, if you call again I'll have to take legal action."
She slammed the phone down.
"Just some prank caller."
Naminé looked pensively at the phone, hanging again on its hook.
"Oh. Okay."
"You're spacy today."
"I'm confused," Naminé admitted. "I mean, everybody's acting so weird, and I don't really know what's going on and I don't even know what to think any more. Everybody in this house seems to hate everybody else, and I wish that we could all just get along."
Larxene laughed and leaned down to ruffle Naminé's hair, her old personality returning in a flash.
"I don't hate you."
Naminé giggled nervously.
"But you hate Vexen. And Marluxia punched you in the face."
Larxene just shrugged at that, turning to go back to the kitchen and presumably wait until it was time for her to leave for her shift at work.
"Well, they're both dicks, aren't they."
Naminé opened her mouth to defend Vexen's honour, if not Marluxia's because he was potentially committing random acts of violence about the place and even Naminé wasn't gullible enough to think that nice people would do things like that, but she was stopped by the soft click of her door behind her.
"Vexen? I thought you were staying in bed?"
Vexen pointed awkwardly at the phone.
"Who called?"
"It wasn't anybody. Just someone trying to waste our time."
Vexen visibly deflated, shoulders sagging.
"Oh."
"Why? Did you want somebody to call you?" Naminé asked in a spate of forgetting the blindingly obvious. Suddenly realising, she was quick to rush over to Vexen, apologising. "Oh, sorry, that wasn't what I meant! I'm sure you'll get a call, don't worry."
Vexen just shook his head, brushing her away.
"They would have called by now. Trust me, I've been through enough jobs to know. I'll just have to send off more applications now."
And he disappeared into his own room, leaving dressed a few minutes later and silently collecting a few things into his ageing leather bag. Naminé followed him rather hopelessly.
"I thought you were staying at home? You're limping, you should stay in bed."
"I'm fine."
It was the same saturnine tone as ever, and it made Naminé want to squeak indignantly and hold Vexen close until he gave in and told her the truth, and didn't just switch himself to autopilot every time she wanted to know how he felt. But she couldn't do that, for whatever reason, so she just sighed.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to go and see what else is available, since nobody called me back. I can't afford to waste any more time. I'm two months behind rent as it is, and..."
Even though Vexen didn't complete his sentence, Naminé knew what he was going to say. He didn't want to be homeless any more.
"Don't worry about rent," She promised, smiling up at him until he awkwardly - and a little bemusedly - reciprocated. "I'll talk to Larxene, don't worry about the rent. We can wriggle a bit more money off Marluxia instead."
It was almost the truth, she realised with a little inwards giggle. Marluxia would be quite proud of how sneaky she'd managed to be then, almost totally honest to Vexen without revealing Marluxia's secret.
"O-okay. But I still want to go to the job centre today."
Naminé decided that she couldn't really argue with Vexen even if she thought he'd be better off in bed, so she nodded and slipped out. On the way to her room, she noticed the phone. She wasn't quite sure why, but with a surreptitious glance around picked it up and pressed redial.

Vexen had just pulled on his shoes when he opened his door to leave the house and walked right into Naminé. She was holding the phone at arm's length because the cord wouldn't allow it any further, and grinning.
"Phone for you," She said.
"I didn't hear it ring," Vexen replied as he took the old handset from her and pressed it to his ear. Naminé just smiled a little and skipped out of the way for him to approach the phone's dock. "Hello?"
"Is this Vexen Carlisle?" Came the muffled voice from the other end of the line.
"Yes, it is. Can I ask who's calling?"
"We received a job application from you and wanted to arrange an interview."
For once, when Vexen's shoulders slumped it wasn't from shame or self-loathing but sheer, thankful relief and when he smiled it wasn't laced with cynicism but hope.

A week and a half of more monetary issues, bad moods and general confusion later, Vexen flopped home at eight o'clock with an odd mixture of exhaustion, furtive disturbance and downright satisfaction on his face. Naminé had been waiting in the front room for him to return, and scooted over to give him a hug as soon as he collapsed on the sofa.
"How was it?"
Vexen's first day of his new job. His new employer had told him at the interview that the dress code was casual, but Vexen hardly had any casual clothes so it had taken quite some time that morning for him to pull on some kind of combination of smart clothes that didn't look too uptight, but now even that had fallen into disrepair, his shirt hanging out of his waistline and his collar skewed. He looked thoroughly harassed... and curiously not too upset about that fact.
Vexen considered Naminé's question at great length and then finally let out a loud sigh and gave her one single, thoughtful word.
"Strange."
"Strange?"
Vexen nodded as he plucked one hand from Naminé's back and tangled it instead in her hair, softly kneading at her scalp.
"It was a completely different work environment to what I'm used to. I mean, nobody knew me and all I was doing was admin work anyway until they start the next commission and I can actually get involved, but everybody was..." Again, he had to search for a word of fitting description. "Friendly."
"And that's strange?" Naminé asked with a helpless little giggle. Vexen reached over to swap the TV channel to something that wasn't screeching in his ear, and settled on a radio station playing calming classical music. Naminé hadn't even known it had existed.
"I'm more used to people shouting at me all the time. And... well, shouting back."
"No wonder you looked so miserable all the time."
"I think that's just my natural expression."
Naminé chuckled again, curling tighter against Vexen's cooler body.
"But you've changed a lot since then."
Vexen hummed a little in agreement.
"Thank God."
Naminé would have argued, but she couldn't deny that Vexen had been admittedly callous and bad-tempered before everything had happened. It was curious, the closest event she could pinpoint Vexen's abrupt change in personality to was Marluxia's arrival in the household - but that had to be a coincidence. Right?
Thankfully she didn't need to ponder that conundrum for long as Vexen dislodged her with the great care he always showed her as though he was afraid he'd hurt her and headed for the door.
"I'm going to go and get a drink. Do you want one?"
Naminé stood up to follow him.
"Did you eat dinner?"
"I did have a sandwich from the canteen at lunch."
Shaking her head, Naminé sighed and took Vexen's hand as she led him into the kitchen. There were still a few things that needed fixing: the fact that Vexen didn't eat nearly enough to sustain his six-foot-four bulk, for a start - but that was nothing Naminé couldn't handle. Because as tactless as he was wont to be, Vexen was an intrinsically good person and that meant he was never beyond redemption.
Or... something.
"You can't go to bed without eating."
"Buddhists do."
Naminé glanced up at this sudden snippet of useless information. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered a school trip to a Buddhist temple and something about only eating the first two meals of the day.
"And did you eat breakfast?"
"Admittedly, no."
She sighed again as she pulled a cardboard box from the cupboard and tipped some of its contents into the bowl on the scales.
"I'm cooking you some pasta."
Vexen tried to protest on the grounds of Naminé being nineteen and him being twenty-nine and male and perfectly able to look after himself and feeling guilty for forcing Naminé to do things for him, but she'd heard it all before so she simply busied Vexen down into one of the chairs and set to work. She liked cooking, always had; so even if Vexen didn't want her to cook meals for him, he didn't get a chance.
She was just setting the water to boil when Marluxia appeared in the doorway, glancing around before his gaze settled on Vexen.
"So I heard you found employment."
"Twelve more hours a day away from your theatrics," Vexen sardonically clipped. "And I'm enjoying every minute of it."
Expecting Marluxia to laugh off the insult, Naminé was amazed and a little worried when his expression remained blank and his eyes cold. He opened his mouth to say something, but fearing the worst Naminé was quick to speak up in his place.
"I'm making pasta. Want some?"
"Thank you."
Taking that to be a yes, Naminé nodded and tipped an extra serving of the miniature pasta bows into the bowl before setting about collecting strips of lunch meat, suitable vegetables and a veritable mountain of cheese to pour into her impromptu meal. Marluxia sat opposite Vexen and the two men appeared to be sizing each other up in terse silence. Naminé, panicking, grabbed a few glasses from the tall cabinet in the corner.
"Drinks?"
Vexen seemed glad of the distraction as he stood and quickly took the glasses from Naminé.
"I'll deal with that. What would you like?"
"Lemonade, please. Marluxia?"
"There's a bottle of red wine in the cupboard."
Vexen dutifully pulled out a wine glass and stiffly popped the cork before pouring Marluxia a glass. The pink haired man smiled a little and simply pushed it towards the taller blonde.
"I don't want to drink alone."
"Fine."
As Vexen swept past for another wine glass, Naminé carefully reached out and brushed her fingers across his shoulder.
"You should be nice to him. He's paying your rent, whether he knows it or not."
Vexen froze momentarily then sighed, shoulders slagging, and poured another glass of wine, all but slamming the bottle down on the counter.
"I know. He just puts me on edge."
Naminé offered him a sympathetic kiss to the cheek where the last of the mysterious bruises had almost faded.
"I'd noticed."
Thankfully the alcohol seemed to take the edge off Vexen's tense worry, and soon he was slouched in silence against the wall, nursing his glass with a fuzzy half-smile on his lips. Naminé sighed gratefully as it was Marluxia who leaned over and poured him another glass, as she popped two bowls of pasta into the oven to bake until the cheese crisped to golden brown.
"So how are you?" She asked, wondering if she should have some wine herself - but she'd never liked the fruity beverage much, so she stuck to lemonade. She bobbed her head towards Marluxia a little. "I haven't seen you much recently."
"I've been keeping myself amused," Marluxia said dismissively. This elicited a grunt from Vexen - and another refill of his glass. "And you?"
Naminé smiled.
"I'm doing okay. Thinking about getting a job to help pay for those reinforcement bars we need for the west wall of the house. And it's only a matter of time before the rest of the roof collapses, too, so we'll need to pay for that. And the window in Larxene's room cracked the other day."
Her smile faded as she sighed, letting her head sink down to her shoulders as she stared into her mug.
"There's so much to do and none of us have got the money."
"Don't worry about it," Marluxia said kindly, and there were his gorgeous bottomless eyes again, drawing her in until she drowned. "Money isn't an issue."
"It is," She protested weakly, but her heart wasn't in it. Marluxia had stolen it clean from her chest, she suddenly realised. The half that was left, anyway, because glancing over at Vexen - quietly taking to doodling patterns on the table with one slender finger - she knew that she'd already given that part to him.
This wasn't, she thought dimly, how people were supposed to fall in love. She wasn't supposed to fall for two men, polar opposites she loved for completely different reasons, simultaneously. But every time she was with Marluxia her heart thudded as though making a bid for escape, and when she was in Vexen's company it fluttered like a butterfly and looking at them both - Marluxia perfectly posed as always and Vexen with his head gently sliding towards the table - she knew she could never choose between them.
Sighing again as she pulled the finished meals from the oven and set them on the table, shaking Vexen awake - he'd actually fallen asleep; the poor thing must have had an exhausting day - with a gentle push of his shoulders and a smile.
"Come on, you're not to go to sleep until you've eaten."
Vexen looked down at the steaming pasta bake and didn't seem too displeased with this analysis. He yawned a little and dug in.
"I'm just tired."
"I can see that."
Marluxia, on the other side of the table, was prodding his meal with a curious interest. He was probably used to better, Naminé thought sullenly. Well, she could always stuff it with MSG if she needed to... unless he was deathly allergic to it, or something. But he didn't seem the type.
"Is it okay?"
Marluxia took a bite, chewed immaculately, and smiled at her. Her heart melted.
"Perfect."
Vexen glanced up and suddenly the tension was there, the suspense between the two men that Naminé couldn't understand. So she desperately stuttered a little over her gratitude, then changed the subject to the weather - not too bad - then the post - late again - and then her thoughts on taking a job at a local restaurant to help pay the bills until Marluxia gently raised his hand and she fell silent.
He took his time in speaking, refilling Vexen's glass again from the last drops of wine in the bottle. The man accepted it gratefully.
"Relax."
"Y-yes," She promised, glancing over at Vexen, eating silently. He seemed immersed in his own thoughts and ignoring Marluxia, so Naminé let him be. And he was still sitting there drinking wine when Naminé ran the dishwasher, and Marluxia swept her up into his arms and carried her off to cuddle all night in his bed.

Vexen was sullen, even behind a haze of more alcohol than he remembered drinking, when Marluxia returned. It had just been one bottle, hadn't it, or maybe two... Vexen struggled to pinpoint how much wine he'd digested even as his glass magically refilled with the red liquid and almost as quickly emptied again. He searched for something intelligent or cutting to say, now that Naminé was in bed, but there was nothing. Nothing but the faint warmth of Marluxia in the chair beside him, swirling wine in his own glass with elegant fingers. Vexen screwed his eyes tightly closed for a few seconds and suddenly Marluxia was pouring himself another glass of wine, and there was still alcohol in his own glass. Funny, he'd thought it was empty. Well. One more couldn't hurt.
"I-" He began carefully, lifting the glass up a little and wobbling, "I hate you."
He didn't even register his voice slurring until he attempted something more eloquent and found that he couldn't. Marluxia laughed at him in a way that made Vexen's insides curl in a way that was definitely not unpleasant enough.
"Thank you."
"... Huh."
He tried to straighten his brain into a coherent thought as Marluxia poured him another glass and - oh, just one more - he was too late to wave him away.
But then he looked up and Marluxia was studiously running his perfect tongue along the length of his perfect, rigid finger and gazing at him with his perfect blue, blue, blue eyes.
Vexen returned a little too quickly to his drink. The alcohol swam in his bloodstream, a physical force, that dulled any sense in his mind when soft fingertips, one slightly damp, caught his chin and tipped his face into a perfect perfect perfect giddy kiss.
Vexen's eyes slid closed.
His body leaped to respond.
His surroundings were both abstract and acutely sharp. Was that a tongue pressing past his teeth, were those hands lifting him into strong arms? Nothing made sense and Vexen's head had been incapacitated by wine and his every action was being governed by a force he could neither explain nor control.
Finally his back came into contact with something that felt familiar, a well loved cotton duvet cover of dusty pink, and somewhere in his dancing vision he picked out vague features of Naminé's room. Of course, as hands stripped him down and indulgent kisses so tender mapped his prickling skin. Of course, he could barely string two syllables into a word. Of course, this all made sense with the addition of mind altering substances, perfect ridiculous insane nonsensical gorgeous moaning gentle probing spinning drunken arousing sense.
"Naminé?" He croaked vaguely as the last of thoughts and questions drowned in vintage wine.
"Who else?" Came a husky purr by his ear. Of course.
Of course, as everything was a blur of pleasure and a buzz of wine, and Vexen didn't even know to care to know to care where his body was or how his head had died as physical sensuality shook him and a heady, delirious climax tore his consciousness in two.