Sky

Summary: "Because they've never had someone like you before." OrganizationXIIISora

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. I do own a copy of CoM and a GameBoy SP, as well as a KHII disc, but not Kingdom Hearts. Either the disc or the franchise.

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Zexion can't stand Marluxia.

It's not the man's sometimes overly-girly mannerisms or looks. He exhibits those himself sometimes, and is moderately aware of it.

It's not the overbearing manner unbecoming to one so low on the ranks. Zexion doesn't much care about rank and 'actions becoming one's rank-' he's had experience with the annoyance involved with being lower on the scale, having always been the youngest, the lowest of the original six.

It's not even the proven disloyalty of the Graceful Assassin. He couldn't care less that the pink-haired man attempted to take over the Organization. He doesn't understand why everyone else makes such a big deal out of it. It's not like the attempt worked, or anything.

It's not any of these reasons, which anyone else in the Organization would consider perfectly valid.

Zexion can't stand the Assassin because of the overwhelming scent of thousands of a hundred kinds of flowers. If everyone else can smell him 10 feet away, Zexion can smell it from 100.

It's not necessarily that the smell is bad or even unpleasant. It's simply that it is so intense and so strong that it seems to take over his mental processes, instructing him to stop breathing, now, and making him dizzy from lack of air.

Besides the scent, there is also the annoying, tiny, spiky particles usually known as pollen, that insist on tickling the inside of his nose, making him sneeze repeatedly; small, delicate noises that have been mistaken for coughs before.

To add to this annoyance, number II and number VIII insist on keeping count of the uncontrollably linked series, obviously finding amusement in his discomfort. The most they have counted is 10; the least is 3.

Vexen had been working on it after Marluxia was first adopted into the Organization, attempting to find a 'cure' of some sort. However, he had arrived at the conclusion that it was mere hypersensitivity, not an allergy of any sort, due to the lack of histamine production, and there was nothing much that could be done about it. Then he had promptly become distracted by some other problem and never paid much attention to it again.

Axel is the next worst in the Organization, smelling quite obviously of wood smoke, warm and strong to the point that others can smell it, but just a whiff. It changes according to his mood, becoming sharper, more acrid when he becomes stressed or angry, sometimes even approaching the dry smell of ash more than smoke.

But there is a large gap between the unbearable aura of Marluxia and the swirling rush of Axel. At least where Axel is concerned there is no actual smoke unless he's been fighting.

Each of the Organization bears their own scent.

Xemnas is like the scent of the very air being cut. It's something that's hard to describe- a bitter, almost metallic scent, very obscure and elusive. It's overlaid with the scent of darkness- a scent that is very recognizably metallic; one that seems to press upon you; steel mixed with cotton.

Xigbar is similar to the Superior, but with the more obvious scents of gunpowder and leather. Zexion doesn't understand where the gunpowder scent comes from– all of the Freeshooter's weapons are laser-based. It's one of the things he's just decided not to bother with.

Vexen is actually the third worst in the Organization, simply because of the proliferation of scents associated with him that change on a daily basis. Sour, sweet, bitter, acid, basic- those last two being the worst of the worst, both unpleasant and strong enough to almost burn the sensitive skin inside his nose. Luckily, those don't show up often and are usually quickly washed off.

Zexion makes it a point to avoid Vexen's lab almost as obsessively as Marluxia's room. Or, for that matter, the general area around Marluxia's room.

Larxene smells of the metallic flash of electricity; almost more of a taste in the back of the mouth than a smell, and a much stronger undertone of copper- bright, superconducting metal smell.

That leads to Saཿx, whose main scent is unmistakably bloody, though there are underlying hints of the honeysuckle smell of the night, and a cold, dusty sheen that Zexion assumes is what the moon would smell like.

Luxord smells simply of paper, like a new book, or possibly money, although sometimes it's mixed with the scent of alcohol and sometimes the faint scent of cologne. He had used to wear enough of the stuff to send Zexion into a coma, but the Superior took it up with him almost immediately and pretty much confiscated the stuff.

Zexion refuses to go to the all-inclusive meetings simply because Marluxia will be there and he feels it's not worth the distraction merely to hear the Superior firsthand.

Lexaeus, his usual companion, fills him in on whatever goes on in these meetings, so there truly is no point in going. The Superior usually waits to finalize things until Zexion has sought him out for input.

As far as Marluxia really knows, Zexion might have actually died back in Castle Oblivion. He's probably confused when the others refer to Zexion as though he's still 'alive.'

Zexion likes having Lexaeus around because he reminds him of what it's like to smell like a person– sweat and soap and shampoo and skin.

His favorite two would have to be the Whirlwind Lancer and the Melodious Nocturne. Both of them have the softest, faintest, most natural scents in the Organization, making them tolerable if not pleasant to be with.

Demyx bears a childlike, almost milky scent that even Zexion has to bury his face in the crook of the other's neck and inhale to identify. His more detectable scent is the clear, fresh tone of pure water, with perhaps hints of rock and moss.

Xaldin's, of course, is that of the wind- purely, truly nothing. It carries other scents around them, depending on where it came from, some more pleasant than others. Xaldin finds it both frustrating and amusing when Zexion accepts him readily one night and refuses him the next- but Zexion can't help but find fresh linen on the wind much nicer than a fish market.

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Zexion has found, he's sure, the most perfect scent in all the worlds, both existent and not. Faint, subtle, but strong, not too intense, and nothing attached to bring in unpleasant smells.

The smell is that of the sky. It bears the traces of water and a hint of the lemon scent of the sun, and woven between is hints of the orange-blossom signature of the day.

It's something that Zexion must have, even if only once. Wants to find out what portion of it will intensify in pleasure, what the breath smells like panting in ecstasy, what it tastes like.

The only problem- the scent belongs to the Keyblade bearer, who after certain Organization endeavors, now seems to have a mistrust of anything in a black coat.

Xemnas wonders why the youngest of Ansem's former apprentices is gone from the World that Never Was, wonders where he goes, what he does. But he doesn't ask.

His usual partners Demyx and Xaldin wonder why he turns them away night after night. But they fail to worry about it- they merely turn to others to find release.

Zexion spends his time now virtually stalking the young Keyblade master, taking in the sights and sounds and smells in a world that exists. Hollow Bastion- now renamed 'Radiant Garden,' Disney Castle, Olympus Coliseum, Destiny Islands, all the places that the strange boy bearing the Key seems to visit.

Often it becomes overwhelming and the tousled-haired Nobody returns to his room, sometimes coughing, sometimes sneezing, always gasping through his mouth and looking just for a place to smell and hear and see nothing.

He can find it in the World Between, the strange little pocket of empty space between the simulated Twilight Town and the World that Never Was. Zexion sends the few Dusks and Assassins that may be about running and lies back, closing his eyes and floating, seemingly, in nothing.

In fact, there's so much nothing that sometimes he has to watch himself to make sure he doesn't start fading away.

He almost runs into the Keyblade bearer's friends one day- the once-child he had almost confused with the Superior so long ago. Meeting him again, he wonders how he had ever managed to confuse the two- Riku smells of the ocean, the scent dimmed and sweetened like seaspray on the rocks.

It must have been the taint of the dark smell that had still been upon the pale boy at that point in time, because now that it's gone, allowing the natural scent through, the two are impossible to mix up.

Riku is much more sensitive and observant than the brunet he follows about. Riku is the one that actually noticed that Zexion was someone out of place in the sunny, salty-scented milling-beach environment of the Destiny Islands. Riku is the one who actually noticed that Zexion is following the two- or rather, the one, since Zexion really couldn't care less about the silver-haired one and his sea-spray scent. If he want that, daresay Demyx would adopt that into his scent easily enough if exposed to salt water.

Zexion is more careful next time he approaches them, braving once again the clashes of sand and sea and sunscreen and food and sweat and nylon and innumerable unnameable things. This time he takes care to somewhat cloak his presence, causing people on the street to swerve around him blindly, at once a blessing and a curse.

No one sees him when he is cloaked in nothingness, though he stands out, being clothed all in black and grey-blue hair tossed over one side of his face. They don't see him and therefore they do not toss him the variety of looks he usually receives- worried, disapproving, appreciative- and therefore he does not stand out.

However, they do not give him the relatively wide berth that they would normally give him, and each personal scent stacks atop the rest until his head hurts from all the information being loaded into it.

And then the Keyblade wielder walks past, drawing Zexion's attention away from the overload of smells, focusing on that one scent, the one that draws him here on this hellish fiasco again and again.

He is alone today, something which Zexion appreciates. However, on this occasion he seems more alert than usual, as though something's wrong. Almost as though he's sensed... something.

Zexion curses mentally. Most likely the boy has sensed his cloaking, the amount of nothingness that has gone into it. He's never been cloaked on one of these ventures before.

Indeed, the brilliant, shining blue eyes train themselves on his general area, brows furrowed in concern. Thin legs slow their motion, thinner arms reaching unconsciously to a position to summon the Keyblade.

The spiky-haired boy stops five feet from Zexion, staring right at him and yet through him uneasily. People edge around him, regarding him uneasily– the boy is, after all, staring intently at nothing.

The steady trickle of people who have been coming by lulls, and the brunet dares to move now, edging suspiciously closer. Zexion stays frozen, still cloaked, though he is certain the skinny youth knows exactly where he is.

A woman cuts between them, practically brushing against the hidden black-cloaked figure, perfume so strong that even the Keyblade bearer wrinkles his nose in distaste.

Zexion nearly loses his balance, body rebelling against the olfactory abuse. Silently he wills himself not to sneeze, stay quiet, pretend he's not there. It's a battle lost before it had even begun.

He sneezes, violently for him, yet still the odd little linked-together sneezes, losing control over the cloaking in the process. Nine. Almost hit his record there.

The Keyblade master stares, completely dumbfounded, as a Nobody he has never seen before recovers his composure. Zexion curses to himself. Losing control of a cloaking because of sneezing has to be one of the least dignified things to do.

"Who are you?" the younger asks simply, now gazing at the disgruntled man in fascination. Zexion and he are almost the same height; Zexion perhaps slightly taller, though it's hard to tell with the mop of russet brown spikes the boy calls hair.

Zexion raises one eyebrow at the boy, truthfully still reeling from the heavy musk smell in the air. Breathing through the mouth doesn't help any, as he can still taste the perfume hanging there. His head hurts, his nose hurts, and he's fairly sure it will only be a matter of time before the assault of the outside world overwhelms him.

Without quite thinking it through he reaches forward, grabbing the boy by one lean arm, feeling briefly the warm skin and the shift of wiry muscles, before shifting his attention to opening a portal to his usual refuge, the World Between.

"Wha- Wait! What are you doing?!" the Keyblade wielder protests in a rough, boyish tenor as he is pulled through the swirling darkness.

He is released, the portal closes, and Zexion flops down to the proverbial 'ground' in this place, still breathing heavily through the mouth. He is forcibly reminded of why the Superior does not send him on the missions the others are sent on regularly- because, frankly, venturing out of a controlled environment is not Zexion's strong point. He does much better on the planning and thinking behind the scenes.

The woman- she touched him. The coat still bears her scent, insufferably so. It still burns in his nose, tainting the otherwise nothing-smell of the place. He draws it over his head, pitching it as far away as he can. It skids off into the shifting shapes that obscure the vision of how far this place might stretch, leaving Zexion in merely the black jeans and boots he wore under the coat, having not bothered with a shirt under it today.

The Keyblade bearer watches him breathe raggedly now in concern, belying the tales of one who steadfastly believed in destroying Nobodies that had been told by Xemnas and Demyx most noticeably among the others.

"Are you okay?"

Zexion once again cannot answer, hating himself for this weakness but knowing better than to try something without giving himself a chance to recover.

The boy slides into a cross-legged position next to him, leaning over the half-hidden face just slightly. The electric-blue eyes surreptitiously slide over the Nobody's well-defined if barely-feminine form, but Zexion catches it, one side of his mouth quirking up in a smile.

"You don't seem like an Organization member." the younger male comments.

Zexion's breath hitches for a moment in an attempt to fire off a comeback, but he suppresses the urge, instead focusing on getting his breathing under control.

Him not seem like an Organization member? Demyx, maybe even Axel, break the mold more so than he. He is one of the originals, damn it. He helps define the mold. Not that it is much of a mold to begin with. The entire Organization is made up of odd ducks, really, if you thought about it.

"So, anyhow... what's your name? I'm Sora." The spiky-haired boy flashes a brilliant smile at him.

Sora... it's odd to think of it that way. The boy has always been the Key, the Keyblade bearer, the denizen of light to Zexion. He's never really connected a name to the brunet now sitting next to him.

Without hesitation now he gives his name. "Zexion."

"Why are you running around in that coat? I thought the Organization was destroyed." Sora's brow is furrowed in innocent confusion, causing Zexion to go into breathless laughter.

"The Organization is perfectly well, if missing our thirteenth member." he manages, sitting up and poking the boy in the chest. The brunet blinks at him wide-eyed.

"But... they all faded away. I saw most of them."

"A Nobody of our caliber fades when he (or she) loses the will that kept their form in the first place. Once the will is gathered again, he (or she) will re-form, whether it takes a week or a decade." Zexion explains.

"Oh." Sora says, sounding slightly stunned.

The grey-blue haired Nobody smirks slightly. "Most of us were surprised Axel managed to get himself back together so soon."

Suddenly bright blue eyes light up. "Hey, can I listen to your heart? I mean, you haven't got one and all, but I've just always wanted to see if there's really nothing, y'know, beating."

Zexion blinks, finally daring to take a breath through his nose, and is instantly consumed by the sky-sun-day scent, the only thing here that emits any scent besides the rancid coat now being eaten by the nothingness.

He nods slowly, adding, "Only if I get a favor in return."

Sora squeaks happily, nuzzling his head up to the Nobody's chest to place one ear over where the heart should be, milk chocolate spikes tickling Zexion's chin. The older male gasps slightly at the initial contact of warm, tanned skin against his pale flesh, the prolonged movements sending undetectable shivers throughout his body.

The brunet stays half-cuddled against the tousled man's side, innocently unaware of Zexion's rising excitement, a cherubic smile splitting his face at the novelty of the silence. Zexion struggles to maintain self control in the face of the subtly shifting mass of scent in front of him. It is the hair that smells faintly of the sun, the skin with the light, cloudlike scent of water, and therefore–

Zexion leans forward and captures the rosy lips, pressing gently, shifting subtly, and pulling away. Sora stares up at him, slightly perplexed but mostly shamefully eager, a blush mantling his cheeks. Zexion repeats the exercise, harder and longer this time, delighted to find the boy moving against him in turn.

This time he pulls away to dip his mouth to the exposed neck, planting wet kisses down it and sucking slightly. The brunet gasps lightly, arching the neck as if to invite more. Instead Zexion returns to the open lips, gently venturing his tongue into the boy's hot, hot mouth. The other returns enthusiastically, every part of him that Zexion can feel heating up.

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The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, but it is lightened by the delightfully elevated citrus tang of Sora's scent, lemon and orange mixing and making the air pleasant to breathe for once.

"So..." Sora manages. "What was that favor?"

Zexion chuckles softly at the fact that the Keyblade master doesn't even think to consider what they just did .

"That was it." he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Sora yawns. "Well, you can ask for those again."

Fin

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A/N: Well... I had a little too much fun with that, to tell the truth. Particularly the assigning of smells to each person. I was lying half awake til nearly 3 a.m., planning this story. (twitches) So yeah... I'm insane. n.n

Hope you enjoyed it. (nods) I adore serious crack!pairings.

Next chapter: Saཿx!!