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There's nothing Xigbar wouldn't do for his cousin, Saïx, and his punk ass, pretty boy boyfriend, but sometimes they test his limits.
Thursday, and Axel texts him at five o'fuck in the morning with a 'pick me up and take me to work.' No explanation. No please. No heart emojis. Not shit.
And it's Thursday, so there're no appointments booked, so it's not even like it's work that'll help Xigbar keep the lights on. It's Axel's stupid side gig at the mall that he got so Xigbar's cousin and Axel could keep tabs on each other. Which come to think had probably set Saïx's therapy sessions back several years. Yeah, better not to think about that at all.
Pulling up to their place, Xigbar dials—speed dial, and Axel must just be loafing in the AC waiting for him, because he picks up damn near instantly.
"Get your ass out here," Xigbar barks, heat prickling under his collar, and he must sound as grumpy and half asleep as he feels because laughter answers him. Maybe this is why Axel and Saïx call him "Gramps" when Xigbar's only got a few years on them. Xigbar clicks off the phone before the snarky retorts come in and rolls down his window.
After a few flicks of the butt of Xigbar's cigarette against the ashtray, Saïx and Axel step onto the porch of their modest condo and into the warm morning air and aren't they a pretty picture? Towers of muscle, crowned with take no shit attitudes, the light settling in their hair to highlight sky blue and sunset red, clutching at each other's arms in damning insecurity.
With a final salute of his water bottle to Saïx, Axel sets off down the stone path of their condo, past a pair of paopu trees, out to the curb.
Axel's metallic gold jeans catch the light and damn near blind half the cul-de-sac.
Jesus. As if the guy doesn't stand out enough already. Saïx must have done something to really piss him off this morning, for him to put on something so attention grabbing.
But hey, Xigbar can help with that. Leaning an arm out the window, he smirks, wolf whistles, growls out, "There's my sexy-ass future brother-in-law."
Axel beams back, smug, and tries hard not to look over his shoulder. Is not successful.
Xigbar doesn't bother. He knows his cousin, practically his brother, and of course Saïx is glaring daggers, fists clenched, jaw stiff. Nobody particularly wants to see a brawny, badass biker/tattoo artist hitting on their boyfriend. That's pretty much the point.
Xigbar curls a finger toward Axel before he can climb in the passenger seat. "Travel tax."
Axel rolls his eyes as saunters up, but he leans in, letting Xigbar kiss his cheek, his fingertips brushing lightly against the redhead's sharp jaw.
"Missed you too, boss," Axel teases, meeting his eye, and then straightening up.
It's been less than twenty-four hours since they've last seen each other.
"Don't gimme that 'boss' shit," Xigbar counters, knuckles colliding with Axel's bony shoulder, "it's supposed to be my day off, and here I am carting your ass around like we're friends or something."
Boy's damn lucky I've got a soft spot for him.
Axel grins. He knows he's Xigbar's closest friend by a mile. Even if Demyx insists otherwise. There are more fun words for what he's got going on with Demyx.
"Yeah, well, car's in the shop again, and his highness over there has a meeting with the sexiest man alive." Axel waves off over his shoulder.
"I heard that," Saïx teases, probably from the porch swing, probably pausing to appease his phone.
Xigbar freezes, processing this, rubbing at his forehead with a palm. "Axel, for God's sake buy a new fucking…"
Xigbar cuts himself off, wonders if Axel can even afford it. Definitely could if he worked at Never, their boardwalk tattoo and piercing parlor, full time. But, of course, he isn't allowed. Saïx doesn't want him to spend all his time with Xigbar, and Axel doesn't want Saïx to have to go all week without him.
Totally fucking normal shit. Obviously.
Saïx has probably spontaneously combusted by this point. Xigbar likes to remind him what he's got to lose. If he doesn't start treating Axel right, somebody else is gonna do it. Hell, if Saïx weren't his cousin, maybe Xigbar would do it.
See, Saïx's discomfort is not altogether unprecedented.
Once upon a time, Xigbar didn't think anyone could look at a man who'd had his face carved up like a Friday the Thirteenth movie and see anything but the scar—the threat.
Once upon a time, a motorcycle accident left Xigbar with three casts, seven stitches across his cheek, and an eyepatch to boot, and he'd said the fuck good bye to the idea of a relationship.
His cousin had flown in to help get him back on his feet. The pair of them had always been close, grew up on the same street, dealing with bastard fathers and empty fridges. When shit had gone south with Saïx's father, he moved in to Xigbar's house. The young men bonded over a mutual love of kickboxing in high school and, after graduation, when the secrets started spilling, a mutual love of men.
They began to go their separate ways when Xigbar dropped out of his art program and Saïx started getting serious about his classes and counseling. Then Saïx had stayed in Hollow Bastion for work and Xigbar had moved to get away from "work."
Ridiculous that it was a motorcycle accident that got him and not his previous occupation—security at a bar where shit got shadier with every passing day. Xigbar's boyfriend hadn't even believed him when he messaged him what happened. That had been it for them, really.
The accident brought Saïx and Xigbar back together. Somehow, between helping Xigbar deal with torn muscles in his legs that left him with a permanent swagger, and stitches in his face that made it hard to chew, Saïx found time to let the island sun soak into his skin and mellow his thoughts and moods. He called his boyfriend often and, hearing the smile in his voice, the guy agreed that a move to the islands might be exactly the fresh start they needed.
Then Saïx had brought home Axel. Axel, their childhood friend, who not only accepted Saïx's scars (and the hefty stick up his ass), but saw the beauty and good humor beyond them. And at a time when everyone else backed up two steps at the sight of Xigbar, Ax'd run at him with open arms, a cocky smile, and a Chicks dig scars, y'know.
So, shitty human being that he was, after Saïx had gone to all the trouble of nursing him back to health, Xigbar had fallen for his cousin's boyfriend hard.
Cheesy as fuck, hell yeah, but Axel had given Xigbar hope. He hadn't thought it was possible for either of 'em to find somebody, scarred as they were, inside, outside. Let alone someone stunning, strong, intelligent…
'Course, it had also made him fucking jealous. Because he and Axel got on like fire and paper, and if Xigbar had met him first…
Well, Xigbar had his vices, but he wouldn't flip a shit every time Axel smiled at a waiter the wrong way. Hell, if Demyx hadn't stumbled his way into the picture, Xigbar's not sure what he'd've done.
Presently, Xigbar unlocks the passenger side of his ancient convertible, and as Axel makes his way over, Xigbar salutes his cousin, who, miraculously, remains in one piece.
"Mornin', Sai."
But Saïx is blood, his cousin and his friend, and losing Axel would wreck him, pure and simple. And after the hell that was their childhood, Saïx deserves to be happy now. Just, not at Axel's expense, right.
So Xigbar flirts relentlessly. Treats Axel like a fucking princess. And Saïx is perfectly aware of his crush, less convinced than Axel is that it ended when Demyx came into the picture. (Though it more or less had, except in off moments like these when Axel shines like a fucking sun.)
But thanks to Demyx, Saïx has no grounds to bitch at him for it. And thanks to the tattoo parlor, Saïx can't fire him for it. So Xigbar takes a certain pride in getting away with everything, shitty human being that he is.
"Morning." Saïx's response is cold, brief, detached. Narrowed blue eyes command him to keep his hands to himself. Not ideal, but better than explosive, Xigbar supposes.
Realizing this is all the conversation he'll get from the man at this point, Xigbar rolls up his window and pulls lazily away from the curb.
"He let you leave the house in that, huh?" Xigbar's eye skims the golden denim hugging at Axel's muscles a final time as they roll out and a knowing smirk lights his lips. "That's progress."
"Oh?" Axel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is it?"
Xigbar cringes at the unexpected dose of bitterness. He glances over, seeing the man has strapped himself in, crossed his arms, and dedicated himself to staring out the opposite side window, probably watching Saïx climbing into his sensible, sleek black sedan, off to metaphorically whore himself out to corporate executives.
"No," Xigbar sobers, reaching across the narrow space to squeeze Axel's shoulder. "Sorry, snookums. Guess not."
"One of these days, though," fingers comb through burnt red hair, jade eyes painfully hopeful, "right?"
Xigbar can't meet Axel's gaze for longer than a second. "He loves you, kid."