So I'm trying for a more innocent... and maybe childish Demyx. He's totally a saint here. A little scatterbrained, but aren't we all. Here he learns not to take pills that random people give him.

Thank you, all my beloved reviewers... and the people who watch this... you all make my world go 'round. Greater mention will be made in the next chapter update. Tonight I have to pick up an award for a gallery sale and get my cut. Woohoo!

EDIT!

Yep! Beta'd and done a damn good job! It'd be worth your time to go thank my wonderful beta, Mousewolf. Yep. I'm not going to stop saying this. XD

::: Watercolored Roses :::

So winter came in her full white gown, and for once in many, many years Atlanta saw snow.

Their days were full of the scent of acrylics and sound of guitars being tweaked and tuned and re-varnished - just about anything except actually being played. Axel didn't mind at all. He took pictures and he painted them, and now after another two weeks of living with the blond, he had twelve paintings finished and two in various stages of progression.

Now, he worked on his favourite, a candid shot he'd taken of the blond pulling off his socks after a long day. He looked tired, covered in tiny snow flakes, the harsh fluorescent light from the hall bathed him in a white halo. He painted it with his own flair. He wanted a more heavy tone and he painted it light on a dark ground, but it still made him laugh at the ease of which the pieces came now.

Demyx materialized behind him.

"It's so beautiful… who else d'you want to paint, though? You can't just keep playing with me, you know. One subject gets boring, it has to."

You're my default setting, he thought but didn't say. I just hadn't found the right template yet.

"Ever listen to Jewel?" he said but didn't think.

"Huh?"

"Just asking," Axel muttered, adding the finishing touches to the highlights of hair with a small, delicate brush. Gold with a touch of the silver, expensive but worth it. Yellow ochre with white for the base…will the background need more blue to it, or can I just leave it in his eyes?

"Yeah, why?"

"Go listen to the song 'Painters', and you'll know why." He'd been giving up subtle hints for a few weeks now and this was as blatant as it got, but it seemed Demyx could be thicker than an adobe brick sometimes.

"…alright," he mumbled, slinking off. To mess with his little pink ipod, no doubt.

His surprised squawk startled Axel, and the redhead tossed his paintbrush into the cup of water on the drawing table, clattering his palette down next.

"Aaaaaxelllll!" Demyx cried, "The dogs are humping again!"

Axel broke into loud laughter and ran to break it up.

--- ---

Demyx strummed his beloved instrument softly, humming a little tune to himself. Axel listened. He'd painted a few of this face. When he was concentrating, his lip pouted out like an angry child's would, and his brow furrowed into a pinch, his nose wrinkled comically. He looked either really sulky or really angry. Axel still couldn't decide.

"Don't turn away now, pretty girl," the blond whispered. He was talking to the guitar, which was the best part of all this.

"Dem…"

"Hmm?" he was still preoccupied.

"Would you mind… if…"

He paused painfully.

"I'm listening."

"Would you mind if… ah, it's nothing. Nevermind."

"Got a request, love?"

Gods, he just hated how his heart fluttered and his mind jolted every time the blond called him that. It was nothing but a simple term of endearment… but it was nothing but a bad habit in this case. He could deal with it. He could, dammit.

"'Land-locked Blues'," Axel replied quietly.

Demyx pulled the capo off of the headstock of his guitar, affixed it carefully to the fourth fret, strummed the strings a few times to see if the strings were true, adjusted, and strummed again. He smiled and played a barely audible C switched to G, then back to C.

And he sang.

--- ---

The door clicked quietly shut, and Axel could hear the familiar sound of Demyx kicking off his big, clumpy Docs. Something was a little odd though. He was giggling like a yaoi fangirl and couldn't quite get the boots off.

"Dem?"

"Aaaa-xelllll!"

Well, that always meant he was in need of help. He had a particularly annoying tone of voice whenever he called like that. Axel put his palette aside, dropped the big chisel brush he'd been using into the cup of water on the drawing table.

Leto trotted back into the studio and curled up next to Zipporah on their cushion. That was odd enough: the big dobe seemed to be tied to Demyx sometimes.

"Welcome home, kid," Axel called, rounding the corner. He didn't expect at all what he saw waiting for him. Demyx had shed his scarf, coat, sweater, shirt and belt. All were lying in a pile next to him and he was yanking at his boots, laughing his ass off.

"I can't do it!" he giggled, tossing his head back and slamming it into the wall with a meek "Ouuch…."

"Demyx? What the fuck?" Axel dropped to his haunches beside the younger man.

"Huh? Ohhhh… hey, baby!" he yipped, struggling into a similar position, shoulder thudding against the wall. "I'm sooo fucking horny…"

"Uh…" -Oh crap please let me be strong- "Yeah, right, so what happened?"

"Marko took me to the club and we played a set and then went in the techno room and this chick gave me a few pills and now I feel so good but I didn't want to fuck her 'cause she totally started giving me the eye, and I don't swing that way so I thought you wouldn't mind…" He took a deep breath, and started laughing again.

"Demyx," The other grabbed the boy's shoulder, hauling him into a mostly upright sitting position and effectively attracting the glassy blue-green gaze. "What did she give you? What did she call it? Do you remember?"

Demyx reached up and pulled Axel's hand away, seemed to think about it.

"E," he replied, after a minute or two.

"Jesus," Axel grunted, leaning down to pull off Demyx's boots. This was achieved rather quickly, but when he sat back up to look the blond in the face, he was suddenly being thrown roughly to the floor.

Demyx's back was arched lightly, his lips smooth and warm. The redhead melted, but the feeling quickly dissipated as the younger man started clawing at his belt. He gathered his knees – and his all his willpower - between them, pushed Demyx away. "No, I'm not letting you do anything you'll regret."

"But I want you so bad… I want you…" he whispered hoarsely, and Axel swallowed at the look in his eyes.

"Demyx, let me up." Christ, please…

"Axel…" There was an attempt made as nuzzling his neck, and he shuddered, reaching for the right emotion, the right one for the situation.

"Now, Demyx. I'm not fucking letting you do this while you're stoned out of your fucking head!" He snarled finally, finding it.

"Axellll!" The blond moaned pitifully, leaning back against the wall again, "You don't love me!"

"I do! For fuck's sake, don't you get it?" Axel cried, sitting up again, "I do! That's why I won't let you, got it?"

"No!" the blond wailed, turning away to curl up in the corner shivering softly.

"You're coming down now, Dem. You're gonna to want to do some crazy things, but I'm here now, okay?" Axel said softly, placing a hand back on the blond's shivering shoulder. A hand strayed upward and wrapped around Axel's bony fingers instantly.

"Y-yeah, you are…" The tone was grateful, almost awed, and it felt like a kick in the gut.

"Let's get you to the bed, kid. You need to sleep." There was no quaver to his voice.

"I don't want to…"

"I know, but I just want you to take it easy, alright? Did you take anything else?"

"I had some beer… and uh, a little rum."

"'Kay, but that's it, right?"

"They were snorting lines off of Paris Hilton, but I wasn't interested…"

"A magazine cover, right?"

"Yuh-huh…" he nodded, slinging his arm over Axel's shoulders.

Axel struggled up and gently guided the wayward blond to the bed, dumped him there effectively and made to go back to his painting. Honestly, he really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

"Axel!" Demyx cried, "Axel don't go!"

The redhead sighed. Crap. No doubt this would be a long night.

He wandered back over to the bed and shed his paint-stained shirt and shorts, stripped down to his boxers as per usual. Demyx had managed to remove the remainder of his own clothing, likewise in his boxers.

"You're skinny…" Demyx muttered.

"At least I'm not quite anorexic any more," Axel shot back, running his hands along the length of his torso, bringing them back up to check his collarbones again. He was almost normal now. He even had quite a good deal of muscle on his frame. He flopped down on the bed next to Demyx. This was the first time they'd ever done this. How much worse could it get?

"Axel…"

"What?" the redhead mumbled, turning to glance at the blond. His entire body was shaking from head to toe like a kitten in a storm, he was crying again, and sweating to top it off.

Axel had never met anything that released so much moisture other than the shower head or a leaky faucet, and he had to admit, it was sort of sexy.

"Why…why are you so broken, Axel?"

He talked like a little kid when he was fucked up, simple truths and questions normally taboo to adults. The redhead loved it.

"I'm broken?"

"Yeah… you're- like- it's like you're hurt or something. I want to fix you. I don't know how. Tell me?" the blond said quietly, not quite whole himself tonight. He rolled onto his stomach, scooted closer to the redhead until his body heat was unbearable against Axel's skin.

He almost flinched. "Dem…"

"Tell me how I can fix you." The boy propped his head up on the pillow, looked at him with infallible eyes.

"I… I don't know, Dem. I'm missing pieces."

"I'll make new ones!" He replied brightly, flopping back down.

"Dem, you're sweet, but you're also stoned. Go to bed."

"I can't." He pouted. It was getting very hard to resist it.

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't like to leave things… half- half-finished."

"What if I hold you like this?" Axel sighed, rolling onto his side and pulling the unresisting blond up against his chest. Demyx made a soft sound of contentment. "Will you go to bed now?"

"Yeah…" Demyx whispered.

He didn't lie.