Title- Sticks and Stones
Rating- T
Pairing: mentioned Roxas/Axel or Axel/Roxas if you'd like to call it that. Not anything big.
Warnings: Cursing.
Summary: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
AN: I kind of hate myself for writing this. Ahaha. Not my normal style and it goes to show that writing at three in the morning not good
Edit: Thanks go to archy the cockroach and CaideSin, the first who read it and told me she liked it, and the second for pointing out something that didn't quite flow right. :) Hopefully this makes a little more sense and if anything else seems awkward, don't hesitate to yell at me, guys.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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They were sitting on separate swings in a near empty park, the last children coupled with their parents moving away to their minivans where they might either go pick up little Bobby from soccer or go home an have a nice dinner with the rest of the family- maybe they would go out for ice-cream later. Hell if Roxas knew.
"They should… I don't know, have a rating system or something…" Axel complained, his words not even garbled in the slightest from the cigarette in his mouth. "Christ, does it look like I watch wrestling?"
Roxas rolled his eyes, swinging back and forth with weak little pushes of his legs, like he probably had done when he was in preschool. "No, I didn't say you did."
Axel sent him a look through slanted eyes but didn't elaborate any more than taking a drag, wiggling his jaw in an attempt to get the ashes off the end with the least amount of work possible. "Like, a kick to the knee would be three points- four or five if it took the other guy down with one shot," he shook his head slightly, scowled and settled for doing it the normal way- two flicks of his wrist and the cigarette was back in his mouth, tip glowing freely. "Can you punch in wrestling? If you punch the other guy and it takes him down, I bet it'd be maybe a six or an e-"
"Axel," Roxas said clearly, one toe digging into the stones as he kicked back and forth, "I don't k-"
"I figured I'd find you two fags here," a voice called, interrupting them.
"-now, because I don't watch wrestling," Roxas finished, glancing at the newcomer dismissively. "Go away."
Already squinted eyes became squinter with anger at the blatant dismissal. "I don't let anyone tell me what to do. The two of you fuckers-"
Axel sighed heavily, taking one last drag, flicking the butt of the cigarette into the stones and reaching for another one. "Sticks and stones," he called, cursing under his breath a moment later when the cigarette wouldn't come out of the box and he was forced to dig for it.
"You and your little blond girlfriend-"
With a final smack to the box, one slid into his hand. "Finally," the redhead muttered to himself, the cylinder perched between his lips as he set his sights on his lighter which didn't seem to want to cooperate either. "I was under the impression you were after us because he wasn't my girlfriend."
The newcomer made a noise of anger but paused when he saw Roxas get off his swing and move forward. "What, is your boyfriend too much of a pussy-"
He was cut off again by the definitely amused voice of Axel who was tapping his fingers absently and watching everything unfold, "Again, contradicting why you're here. And, sticks and stones, again," he flicked his thumb against the lighter switch once more, the flame erupting from the top in a neat little orange and yellow streak.
In the time it took for Axle to get a decent drag in and push his lighter back into his back pocket, he only caught the sight of the idiot being taken down by Roxas. There was a moment of silence that lingered through the nearly empty park before the knocked-down teen attempted to swipe at Roxas, intending on bringing him down as well. One swift move was all it took before blood speckled the stones and the front of The Idiot's (as Axel decided he would be called) shirt. "Fuckin' a, Roxas."
Roxas sent Axel a dirty look, glancing back to where the other boy was sitting, trying to stop the blood from where it was running down his chin in a sluggish little trail. Incoherent little curses were flowing from the boy's mouth as he scooped up a handful of stones with his free hand and began pelting Roxas with them, not stopping even though most were falling to the ground, hopelessly short of their intended target.
"Let's go to my house," Roxas suggested, jamming his hands into his pockets after wiping them off. "I'm hungry and I think my mom bought ice cream the other day."
"That," Axel declared with wicked humor, taking two strides so he was caught up with the shorter teen, "Christ. That was a fuckin' eight or nine at least. I don't think you can punch or kick in wrestling but it's allowed in kickboxing and boxing, right?"
He was still going on about that, Roxas noted, the whole event with the boy behind them forgotten. "I think so."
"Take up kickboxing. Your mom would stop complaining about you not doing sports and you could kick people and shit," Axel suggested, hands spread widely as if to indicate just how good of an idea this was. He didn't have to look over to know his companion was rolling his eyes. "He was throwing rocks at you, by the way."
"Stones," Roxas corrected absently, turning the corner sharply, knowing that Axel would follow since they walked to his house more than a few times every week.
"Fine, stones. Even better," Axel grinned. "Do they do points in kickboxing?"
The dirty look was turned full force on Axel who only seemed all the more amused by everything that had happened- being friends with Roxas always proved to be a bucketful of odd moments.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
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I'm…going to go and write some angst now. C&C loved, tell me if you hated it or if you liked it. Normally I like stuff that's more gritty and descriptive, but this was kind of a fun turn.