Scent of a Storm

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Disclaimer: Had to do it. Had to make my own Zexion/Demyx fic. It was starting to bother me that I hadn't written one yet, you know? It was all 'Vampyyy, write meeee!!' and stuff. Very sad.

Author's Note: Totally… don't own my babes Zexy or Demy-kins. That really makes me want to cry... :' (

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That scent.

It was back again.

The smell of the air just before a heavy, yet delightfully relaxing storm let itself loose on the land below.

Warm, breezy and dangerously arousing to the senses.

He had been catching the scent more and more often now, though he made no attempt to let the owner know he had acknowledged his supposedly hidden presence. At first, it had brought a small frown to his thin lips, his cobalt blue eyes keeping themselves firmly planted on the words printed on the page before him. As the days progressed into weeks and the same smell continued to mysteriously appear where ever the Cloaked Schemer seemed to be, his frown quickly turned itself into an annoyed scowl.

The feeling of being watched intently was becoming more frequent and was beginning to disrupt his concentration. One moment he would be sitting in the Castle's library, engrossed within his current book and surrounded by the silence the large room provided and then, seemingly out of no where, the scent would whisper its way across the library, assaulting his acute senses and making his left eye twitch softly in agitation. No longer able to focus on his book (try as he might), the small male would keep still for another few minutes, until he was positive all of the others attention was focused solely on him. As soon as he felt the heavy feeling settle on his mind, he would swiftly stand from the plush chair he had chosen to sit in and take a few steps forward. Silently opening a portal without any motion from his hands, Zexion would keep his nose buried within the still-open pages of his book, walking into the swirling mass of Darkness, before it closed behind him and the scent was temporarily overrun.

By now, this was nearly routine for both parties.

Read down in the library.

Smell the scent of a storm.

Sit… wait… feel for the height of his focus…

Get up and leave through a portal.

How many days – weeks? – had they spent doing the same thing --- Zexion had lost track.

And now, his closest assumption being three weeks (though it felt more like three years) later, the Schemer found himself back in his seemingly 'claimed' blue microfiber chair, his body twisted sideways in the squishy material. Both of his legs were drawn up towards his body, his right leg extending forward over the opposite arm of the chair as his left arm leaned against his raised knee. Placing his hand against his temple, he tilted his head to the right until it rested against the back cushion of his seat; his eyes drifting down to the open book nestled snugly in his lap.

The silence was a welcomed friend from the normal bustle and arguments he was always bound to find on the upper levels of the Castle. Of course, listening to the second-in-command and Axel fight over the last bagel for breakfast was always an amusing sight to witness; knowing that multiple streams of fire and a gravity-defying Sharpshooter was soon to follow. And then there was the occasional bickering between Xaldin and Marluxia, which was usually about nothing in particular, yet always seemed to get the Assassin ruffled more than it should have.

Luxord never failed to feed his gambling fire on those banters either, betting a good sum of munny that one day, one day, 'Marly's just going to snap! – And Xally there's going to be mighty sorry! You just watch, I bet you! Anyone want to have a go against me? Anyone?'

Shaking his head slightly to rid the memories of that morning from his head, Zexion shifted slightly, his outstretched leg curling into himself a bit, causing his knee to press into the dark fibers of the chair. Lowering his left hand from where it had moved across his forehead, the pale man turned the page and inhaled deeply, partially from his slowly growing boredom.

He could nearly taste the storm approaching on his tongue and his subconscious rolled its eyes, his hand replacing itself back into his silver-grey locks. His eyes refused to leave the page he was currently staring at, his mind screaming at him to either look up and demand that his subordinate leave him be or ignore his presence completely in hopes that he would take the hint.

Unfortunately, he knew how thick-headed his silent pursuer could be.

The sixth member of the Organization contemplated his next move, debating whether or not he should continue to at least try and read or just go somewhere else. Though, the fact that he really had nothing else to do at the moment did sway his decision, as well as cause that usual scowl to turn upright into a faint, and slightly disturbing, grin.

Closing his book with a loud snap, Zexion swung his legs around in the chair and swiftly stood up. Taking a slow, casual glance around the seemingly empty library, he kept the small grin on his lips, before lazily raising a hand to form a dark portal a few feet in front of him. Stepping towards it, he suddenly stopped, as if contemplating one last thought. Again, he turned to look over his shoulder, brushing his fingers through his overly-long bangs to allow himself another glimpse of the "empty" library. Inhaling deeply, Zexion turned away from the now-closing portal and started for one of the exits.

Panic never smelled so exciting.

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Gloved hands clasped tightly over his mouth, muffling his sudden sound of surprise. Demyx watched as Zexion pushed past a set of door with round, blue eyes.

Had he just been caught?

His mind reeled with possible reasons for the change of transportation his superior had taken.

He had stayed silent and out of sight a good deal away, only peering through multiple bookcases to avoid being spotted.

But… he had just walked out… everything was routine was Zexion… why did he walk out?

Suddenly, Demyx clutched his head, letting a groan of frustration fill the empty air around him.

How could he have been so stupid!

Zexion had turned to look towards him – twice even, so that should have been clue enough – and then had taken a deep breath.

He could smell him.

So… he did know he was there?

…This entire time?

Demyx let his head fall forward onto the shelf in front of him with a dull 'thunk'.

Well… may as well continue his… he didn't even know what to call it… his observing.

The situation couldn't get anymore embarrassing… right?

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Turning the last corner, Zexion began a slow pace down the blinding white hallway to his personal quarters. His lips were still quirked upward at the thought of a new game in the midst, one finger tapping idly against the spine of his book.

So the fool had finally caught on.

The question now was: How long until he showed himself?

There was always dinner; the one time all thirteen Organization members see each other at once, but it would seem he wouldn't have to wait that long.

A new presence had just entered the hallway, the faint hum of a portal closing the only sound being heard.

Zexion paused in his steps, the dull clicking of his boots coming to a halt. Standing his ground, the Cloaked Schemer tilted his head to the side slightly, waiting for the other to make a move.

'How typical,' He mused to himself, 'He had actually found the nerve to come after me and yet, manages to lose the gall now that he's here…'

A mental groan floated through his mind as he briefly wondered why he even bothered to try and humor the musician. Tightening his grip on the book still in his possession, Zexion moved to continue his path down the hallway, only to come to an immediate halt as a hand placed itself on his shoulder.

His instinctive reaction was to tense his entire being (for rarely anyone made any sort of physical contact with him), his second reaction being to lock his mind up tight. Though, this did seem rather ridiculous to the small part of the Schemer that was still focused on the action, considering no one else could read his thoughts.

The rest of Number Six was currently being occupied by the pair of brilliant blue eyes staring down at him. The two held their small contest for a moment longer, before Zexion slowly blinked, his expression of slight curiosity disappearing.

"Number Nine."

Demyx brought himself out of his stupor with a few rapid blinks of his own, realizing that he still had his hand on his superior's shoulder. He quickly removed it.

"S-sorry…"

Zexion started up at the dirty blonde, his original curiosity beginning to surface once again.

"Why are you here, Demyx?"

The question seemed to take the Melodious Nocturne by surprise. His posture straightened and his gaze flew up towards the white ceiling as his arms quickly crossed with a rustling noise. The nervous expression he feigned almost convinced Zexion that the other was truly feeling the emotion, but he knew they could not.

They could feel nothing, truly.

Emotions were for Somebodies.

The sudden motion of Demyx's hand caused cobalt blue orbs to snap to attention, watching as the outstretched fingers curled into a loose, gloved fist, before pulling back to scratch at the back of his neck. A too-wide grin was shot down at the Schemer at last, followed by: "Just sayin' hey! So, uhm… what's up?"

Zexion narrowed his eyes at the other's sudden suspicious change of attitude, before his expression shifted, both of his eyebrows rising as he closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, the slightly younger male's eyes suddenly snapped opened as he turned around completely, gaze meeting the others black – clothed chest.

What was that smell?

Something familiar, yet distinctively different from the smell lingering on the other members…

Clearing his throat softly as he quickly regained his composure, Zexion looked his subordinate in the eye as he spoke.

"Why have you been stalking me, Number Nine?"

Those bright blue eyes widened at his words, gloved hands fumbling with each other.

"St-stalking! I never even… I didn't mean --- I just --- but stalking?" Demyx bit his lip to keep himself from rambling on further. The annoyed look Zexion was giving him at the moment was bad enough, "…You knew?"

The Cloaked Schemer gave an annoyed sigh, his small frown beginning to deepen, "Perhaps you have forgotten that I have the ability to smell you, making you even more obvious than you already are."

Demyx crossed his arms with a pouty huff, "Hey! You don't have to rub it in, I know my sneaky-ness could use some work!"

Zexion brushed his bangs from his eyes with a swift flick of his wrist, only successfully keeping a few strands back in place. Raising his visible eyebrow to the musician, he spoke slowly, as if dealing with a small child, "So, then tell me, Demyx… if you were not 'stalking' me, why did you have a need to attempt your…" Zexion wrinkled his nose slightly, "'Sneaky-ness', for the lack of a much better word."

Demyx gave a little shrug as he attempted an innocent smile, only to have it fade off a moment later. Keeping his gaze averted, the blonde loosened his crossed arms enough to rub his slim biceps.

Quickly seeing that he wasn't about to get an answer, Zexion decided that he had had just about enough of this little encounter.

"Number Nine," His voice was stern enough to bring the musicians eyes towards him again, as well as show that he was a few inches past the term 'annoyed'. "I have humored you with this meaningless 'conversation' for the past ten minutes and, still, you have not told me why you have been following me. Apparently, you want something from me. What do you want that I could possibly give to you?"

"It's not meaningless." Dark blue eyes widened slightly at the others sudden change in demeanor, taking in the hardness in the others face that even Zexion knew should not be there. Demyx's arms unfolded themselves into tight fists at his sides, his back straightening again as he stared down at his superior.

Zexion held their narrowed stare unafraid, though, a small part of him knew that he had never felt so short.

Cursed other half.

Demyx's fists were the first part of him to move a few moments later, both relaxing and uncurling against his sides. His back didn't seem as stiff anymore and he hung his head forward, a heavy sigh crossing the air.

Zexion couldn't help but notice that even the others' hair seemed to drop its guard in defeat, the dirty golden spikes drooping forward a bit. Mentally shaking himself, Zexion pulled his eyes away as they began to wander down, a scowl crossing his pale lips.

"It's not meaningless." He repeated more softly this time, "I do have a reason."

The Cloaked Schemer merely stared up at him, waiting for him to go on.

Demyx sighed again, running a hand back against his mohawk, "I just want a… a hug."

Zexion was a hair away from smacking his subordinate with his book.

Instead, he ground his teeth together and turned on his heel, intent on marching straight into his private quarters.

"Why must you waste my time with your nonsense?" He ground out, "You know we feel nothing because we are Nothing."

"STOP IT!" Zexion's entire being froze from the combination of Demyx's volume level and the tight grip on both of his shoulders. "Stop saying that! Everyone's been telling me the same thing! 'We're Nobodies and Nobodies don't feel.'" Zexion winced slightly in his shocked stupor, the fingers digging tighter into his shoulders, "Well if you don't feel then you don't care, and if you don't care then at least humor me some more and do it!"

Number Six suddenly found himself spinning rather harshly and landing against something solid, something warm, something… a lot like Demyx's chest. His torso was gathered tightly against the hunched form and his breath was nearly stolen away as his head tipped back, only to find a gloved hand cradling it. Another head was pressed against his and golden-brown hair tickled his cheek, the warm and thick smell of the storm consuming his senses.

"Demyx, stop!" Zexion tried to make his words into a hiss, but only heard them as a whisper. A strange humming began to fill his ears and his visible eye widened as he stared up past a black shoulder, the warmth and ferocity of the hug triggering something that had been locked deep inside him.

A woman, her hair a stunning shade of blue-grey, smiled sweetly down at him, his body gently rocking from side to side in her embrace. He was crying; he could hear her soothing voice hushing him to stop and he didn't know why… but everything would be all right now.

She was there.

The loud 'thunk' resounding through the hall caused Demyx to pull away ever-so-slightly before he realized that the book Zexion had been holding had dropped to the floor. Standing up fully, the musician furrowed his brows in confusion as he saw the expression on his superior's face.

The one steely blue eye that was visible was opened wide, desperately scanning the ceiling for something that wasn't there. His mouth was open as if he was trying to figure out what to say next, which, frankly, scared Demyx to pieces.

Zexion was never speechless.

"Zexy?" Demyx gave his shoulders a squeeze, followed by a small shake as he held his superior a few inches away from himself. "Zexion, what's wrong?"

Number Six jerked sharply in the others hold, his eyes still wide as they seemed to focus up on Demyx.

"Are you okay?" The blonde repeated, his fingers tightening when he felt the smaller body begin to tremble.

"Get off me!" Silver-grey hair shone blue for a few seconds as the strands whipped around his face, the words growled as his body twisted harshly until his subordinate's grip finally broke on him. Staring up at him, Zexion searched the others face, though he only saw the images from his mind. "You… you made me… why?!"

Becoming more confused with each passing moment, Demyx slowly shook his head, "What…? What're you talking about, Zexion?"

"Ie…Ienzo… you made me remember! Damn you, NO!" Zexion burst out, his hands rising to clutch his head, jaw clenching as he let out a sound close to a scream. Lowering his hands into tight fists, the Schemer roughly pushed past Demyx and took off down the hall.

Blinking dumbly at the air before him, Demyx finally turned to look back and found himself alone in the long, bleak hallway. Letting out a heavy breath as he faced forward again, the Nocturne closed his eyes and hung his head, lifting his arms to run his fingers back through his spikes.

'So now this is my fault… figures, it always seems to be one way or another…'

A sudden crash and rumble made the castle floor shiver beneath him, catching the musician off guard and sending him a step or two to the side with a yelp. Looking around with wide eyes, Demyx worked through all the possibilities as quickly as he could, coming up with too many reasons as to why that had just happened. Deciding that the cold heaviness that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach was worth listening to, the blonde caught muffled shouting from somewhere below him. Holding a hand out before him, Demyx quickly tapped into his own personal portion of Darkness, before walking briskly through the portal with closed eyes.

"Take me to the disturbance." He murmured to no one in particular. Xigbar said it helped him subconsciously focus and almost nearly guaranteed that he arrived where he wanted to go.

When he opened his eyes a moment later, he found himself in the last place he had expected to end up and, for a split second, wondered if Xigbar's little trick had actually failed.

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To Be Continued.

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CloakedVampire: So yeah. I actually looked up that blue microfiber chair. I want one now xD But anyways. I've been working on this for awhile now and it's gotten to the point where I thought I should cut it in half. Cuz… this, apparently, doesn't want to comply with me on wanting it to be a one-shot. So. Two chapters it is.

Not quite sure when the next half will be up… even though I already have ten pages typed out already… I need to get to the good stuff. So, patience to all of you lovelies who decide to follow this. I grant my love to all those who do : D