Before I joined the Corps, I didn't have many nightmares.

Before my last deployment as an infantryman, my nightmares went like this:

I'm in a room, and it's hot. Sunlight streaming through a hole in the roof, and to my left, a set of double doors. Through the windows, I can see the desert stretching on for mile after parched mile. The sky is scorched blue.

I'm in all of my war gear- flak jacket with bulletproof plates in, Kevlar helmet, digital desert cammies, clear ballistic glasses- but I don't have my weapon.

And I hear them coming.

I never could get a grasp on their language, beyond "Stop", "Get out of the car", "Hands up", and "May God be with you"- it all sounded the same to me; usually harsh, sometimes vaguely musical. But I could always tell when they were mad.

There's a crowd of them, and it turns out the room I'm in isn't really a room, but a U-shaped hallway. And their shadows dance on the wall.

I fall backwards, scrambling to get away, only to find another set of double doors behind me, and as I land, they close in front of me. The noise lowers by half.

But the relief I feel is momentary. I look to my right, and see my entire world, my family, standing calmly as the enemy is getting closer. My sister holds her baby, my brother has his hands in his pockets, and my parents gaze at me with more adoration than I'll ever deserve.

I know then, that there's nothing I can do to save them.

The sounds are louder now, shouting and the scraping of sandled feet against sand strewn concrete.

My head turns as though the air has solidified around me, my perception the consistency of honey. From my family, to the doors in front of me, and then to my left, where a long, sunbaked hallway stretches out before me. Broken windows filter sunlight through the dusty air, and I can only think that there's no use in telling my family to run, because they'll only die tired-

When Zexion shook my shoulder, I was pretty sure my heart was gonna jump out my mouth and make a run for it.

He- that is, Zexion, not my heart- was gazing at me with narrowed eyes and a quirked eyebrow. I'd come to know this look, the look in between Flavored Windows and Please, Go Die In A Fire, as What New And Exciting Drug Are You On? But that didn't last long once he'd gotten my attention, and his features relaxed to their usual state. I liked to think that was his, I'm Crazy About Demyx face.

"Did you hear the classwork he just assigned us?"

Uh, no?

"Yup." Even if I hadn't, I bet I'd learn about it soon enough.

With a roll of his eyes, Zexion leaned back in his chair, huffed a sigh. "So even in your catatonic state, you were paying attention to the class?" I smirked, leaning back and kicking my feet up.

"Maybe you didn't notice, but I'm a superhero. I was just in my Fortress of Solitude."

And there was that look again, the slightest quirk at the corner of his mouth- but I was so all about that expression that it probably wasn't healthy. There was literally no end to the lengths I would go to tease that smile from him.

"So you say, Superman," his laugh was a quick exhale, quiet and reserved and just for me. "I'll fill you in."

-.-.

At the end of the hour, after all the students and the professor had filed out for their next class, Zexion and I sat discussing the finishing touches for our project. The semester was, thankfully, coming to a close, and with only a few weeks left, it occurred to me that I still needed to convince my sometimes grumpy, alarmingly gorgeous project partner to fall in love with me. Unfortunately, I was still stuck on how.

Fortunately, he wasn't. I was never one for the bigger picture stuff, anyway.

As he was packing up his stuff, and I was watching him pack up stuff (because at this point in the game, I knew better than to bring note taking gear to a class I took no notes in), his ears began to glow. Now, I found this peculiar only because I hadn't gone out of my way to fluster him in a while- and even then, I generally had to open my mouth to do so. Guess I was just getting that good.

"I have a proposition for you, Demyx."

Or not. "Yeah? Wuzzat?"

"Oh, you don't know what a proposition is? It is a suggested course of action-"

"Oh, shuddup. What's your proposition, Mister Thesaurus?"

I could tell he was grinning from his sidelong glance, the way his eye crinkled in the corner with amusement, but his inflection was the same as ever. He turned back to his bag on the side of his chair opposite me before speaking again.

"Perhaps we should…" he hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should, you know. Go steady. If you like."

My eyebrows did this magic trick where they disappear into my hairline and I'm pretty sure they took my voicebox with them. Had I heard that right? I mean, yeah, going steady was probably something they did back in the 80's, but if we took that phrase, adjusted for inflation, and applied it to real life, I could swear he just asked me to start dating. Like, together. And not just in my imagination.

I realized too late that I was probably gaping like a turkey on a rainy day, because after the silence stretched out for a few awkward moments, Zexion hurriedly got up without looking back at me. It slowly occurred to me that he was babbling over his shoulder- another sign of his discomfort, babbling, because this boy was more frugal with words than Honey Boo Boo is with diet and exercise- and he had almost made it to the door before I heard my voice say, "Wait."

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me while his hands played with the straps of his man-purse.

I was clumsy, swinging my feet over the desk and barely catching myself as I hopped forward, but I made it to Zexion without faceplanting on the stained rug floor. "Do you really mean that? You wanna be with me?"

He frowned at me, single visible eyebrow drawing down as his nose scrunched up and his glance blanched away from me. "Nevermind I said anything, it was only a suggestion. To better facilitate work studies. In case you needed help from time to time, or someth-"

He didn't stop talking when I tilted his chin towards me, only decreased in speed and volume, until he was mumbling jibberish. Speakin' my language, and whatnot.

I couldn't hide my grin any longer, and with a chaste kiss and a wink, the latter of which I'm pretty sure was lost on my poor, dazed, (Brand New!) boyfriend, I murmured, "Ya know what? You're crazy."

I know, I know. I'm a sucker for romance.

-.-.

Axel and I were sitting inside that rainy Saturday morning. He was playing Assassin's Creed; I was trying to drown my sleepiness in a bowl of Cocoa Puffs so big it could probably have fed a family for days.

The light from outside was weak; it filtered in through the blinds, pooling on the floor in dim outlines. This helped me, I think; there's nothing so unholy as being awake at seven on a Saturday, but Axel promised me Waffle House once he beat the level he was playing. The Cocoa Puffs were there to tide me over.

We weren't talking much, just the occasional grunt from him in response to dying or whatever. I was content to keep it that way, with as little communication as possible. I hadn't slept well the night before.

"Hey."

I glanced up at him wordlessly. The game was on a loading screen, and he was peeking at me from over the shoulder of his gaming chair. When I didn't say anything, he returned his gaze to his game, and I shoved another spoonful of delicious chocolate omnom. I considered next time just using Nutella instead of milk.

"So…" he started again, trailing off. The rain outside picked up in the silence, and Axel died again. He growled as he restarted the mission. "Question."

I sighed through my nose, swallowing the mouthful of corn starch. "Shoot."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

It was almost like he held his breath, waiting for my response. I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head, but he didn't turn around. A few moments passed this way, before I turned my glare down to the cereal in my lap. "Yeah, I will. I just…" I cleared my throat. The roof of my mouth was sore- from the cereal, I think. "It's kind of early in the relationship. For all that."

He shrugged, humming as he finally beat the mission. I heard birdsong through the patter of rain outside. "Just makin' sure, man. Don't want him, yanno-"

"Yeah, dude. I know."

He turned around at my tone, but I was already up and walking away.

-.-.

I spent every day with Zexion, studying, hanging out with Axel and Roxas, or just watching TV together ("You watch The Office? And understand the jokes? Zexion, why didn't you tell me you have a sense of humor?"). Everything was good; better than good, actually. It was fucking wonderful.

It became easier for me to tease that shy smile from him.

I firmly believe that was my crowning achievement; he still didn't do it when other people were around, but when it was just me, I'd catch him more often than not with that familiar quirk to his lips.

I wondered if he felt as giddy as I did all the time.

It certainly seemed that way.

-.-.

I was leaving the chow hall a few weeks after Zexion and I started dating on an unseasonably warm evening in December, over the break. Having eaten dinner with some friends who lived on campus, I felt it was high time to be getting back to my apartment, and my bike was on the other side of the school.

But as I was walking towards the glass doors, hoisting my longboard over my shoulder, I saw that it was raining.

Or, more accurately, pouring.

I slowed to a stop, gazing outside. I had no worries about my books, 'cause my bag was waterproof. I could always fix my board later.

And longboarding in the rain is just fucking awesome.

I glanced around real quick, and pulled off my shirt. After stuffing it in my bag, I rolled up the pant legs on my jeans, 'cause fuck wet pants, and slung my bag over my shoulder. Grabbed my longboard.

Stepped outside.

Glorious.

I don't even remember riding to the top of the hill; one second I was in front of the doors, soaking in the charged atmosphere, face tilted back and eyes closed- the next, I was at the top, clothes soaked through, rain tracing icy trails down my back.

I couldn't stop grinning. There was nobody out. I was alone in the dark, pouring rain; the world was mine.

With a kick I skated over the water and down the hill, gaining speed- and then I was kneeling, one knee on the board, one foot, leaning to and fro to steer, and my arms were out, and suddenly I was-

The F18, screaming off the deck of the Nimitz class carrier I was stationed on before my first tour to the 'Stan, fully loaded and ready to deliver bad guys straight to their seventy-two virgins. I was fast, tearing off the rolling deck of the ship, and then I was gone, out of sight, beyond sound-

I opened my eyes only because I had to stand, kick, and steer around a corner. I was still going fast, but you can't be a fighter jet and go anything less than Mach Jesus . Just doesn't work that way.

As I leaned down and grabbed my board for a hard left, I saw movement- light, shining in the dark, a form in a window, and then I was gone, the rain stinging my eyes and my bare neck when I ducked my head.

With another kick, I propelled myself into a kneel, and spread my arms again, making sure I was on the straightaway before I closed my eyes, this time becoming-

The AV-8B that overflew me on my third combat tour, while we were pinned under heavy small arms fire. I saw myself, little blonde human, all of us the size of so many ants, on my first flyover. I was too far away to see the terrified expression on my face as I ran out of ammo, but I didn't need to. With my powerful engines, I screamed a 180, dove, and dropped five hundred pounds of hellfire on the building that contained so many hajjis ready to meet their God. Success met with satisfaction. Mors ab alto.

I opened my eyes again when I slowed enough to not feel the stinging rain, and found myself near the library, and the coffee shop. It was at that moment I finally felt the cold. And I mean really felt it; it'd been a pretty warm day for December, but the rain was making it feel spot on, temperature wise.

I was close enough to the coffee shop that it was a viable option to get out of the weather, if only momentarily, but I figured I had time for just one more fantasy. I slowed down a bit, made another hard left, steered myself towards the brightly lit shop, and swept out my wings-

I was the C-130, the lumbering transport plane that brought me back home from the desert, to the arms of my crying mother, family, girlfriend- ten thousand feet, high enough to be far outside of any SAM's range, low enough to keep the exhausted infantrymen in my cargo hold from suffocating for lack of oxygen. My wings weren't swept back, but perpendicular to my body, holding thirty thousand pounds of fuel alone, and inside my steel belly, the grunts slept fitfully, completely safe for the first time in months.

But there was no "safe", not for me, not anymore. Once you've seen war, up close, in front of you- you know there's no such thing as safe.

I was shivering by the time I got into the comparatively well-lit shop, and the air conditioning certainly didn't help. I was covered in goose bumps, which I'm sure the cashier who stood behind the counter saw as he eyed me up and down.

Of course, I had just walked in there dripping and shirtless… Maybe he was looking at me so critically 'cause of the puddle I was quickly forming. Oh, well.

With an apologetic grin, I dropped my bag, pulled out my shirt and started toweling off- and I did all that while ordering a nice, hot latte. Who says grunts are dumb?

While I waited for my drink, I tried to dry my pants- lost cause- but I didn't bother to put the shirt on. Considering how wet it was, and how there really wasn't anyone in the shop at this hour anyway, I went ahead and said fuck it. If the kid behind the counter didn't like it, he'd say so.

… Yeah. You know he liked it.

Anyway, I took my drink when he handed it over, going over to the counter to fill it with sugar and vanilla and whatever the hell else they had for free out there, when the little bell over the door rang.

I glanced up, poised to pour sugar into my coffee, but found myself motionless when I met Zexion's gaze.

He was still, looking dazedly around the shop. The kid behind the counter looked ready to speak, but glancing between the two of us, decided it was better to do no such thing.

"Zexion?"

He looked at me then, eyes darting down my body before sweeping back up to meet my eyes. I was suddenly very aware of my state of undress, as if his gaze had been a feather light touch- and it made me suddenly reluctant to move. Zexion, rainwater running off the hooded jacket he wore, took a step towards me, and another, and another- and then he was next to me, close, and I couldn't help thinking that maybe I'd passed out back in the rain, and this was some kind of dream.

But, blinking slowly, then a little faster, the slate haired kid seemed to snap out of it, quirking an eyebrow at me. The familiar expression allowed my heart to finally cease its sprinting.

"Demyx, why are you almost naked?"

I grinned, released from the spell that was this kid's eyes, and returned to pouring my sugar.

"'Cause that's the best way to be in the rain. Why're you out in this shitty weather?"

He rolled his eyes at my language, but crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm no longer allowed to venture out of my dorm for coffee?"

"Well, sure ya are! But I figured it'd be in your best interest if you didn't go out in the rain, since you might melt, and all." He grinned, and turned around, heading for my still-dripping longboard on the wall.

"That was a very poor and desperate attempt at an insult, Demyx. I do believe you're slipping."

I scoffed, shoving my shirt back down in my bag (fuck my books, man, being shirtless around Zexion was totally worth it), before hooking it onto my shoulder, and stepping close behind him. "I guess," I said lowly in his ear, "it's 'cause you caught me off guard. Give me a minute, I'll get ya."

It might have been my imagination, but it sure did look like he shivered when I breathed on his neck. But then he was pushing open the door, and holding it for me as I grabbed my longboard and stepped through.

We walked into the still pouring rain, and I was gripped by the need to fly again.

Seriously, try it; hell, it doesn't even have to be raining. Longboarding at night is the best.

But it was either walking with Zexion, or flying with my memories.

And I'd take the present over the past any day.

We walked a measured pace, not fast enough for me to longboard with, but not slow enough to feel like I was dragging my feet. My bag was warm against my back, the rain cool on my skin, and Zexion quiet beside me- for a time anyway. He looked at me from beneath his hood when we were about even with the auditorium building.

"So why are you out here shirtless, again?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't I answer this question already?"

"No, you didn't." He shook his head, "I mean, I need a real answer. I'm genuinely curious."

My walking slowed to a stop, and he continued on for a moment before he realized. I watched him turn, eyeing me with an inquisitive expression, and I furrowed my brow in thought.

I mean, how do you describe the rain to someone?

What it feels like? How do you tell someone who's never gone months without rain what it's like to feel the falling sky on your skin? That it's like embracing a long lost friend? I heaved a sigh, tilting my head back to kiss the cold air.

"Well…"

I racked my brain for an answer, still coming up blank. The rain splashed up puddles on the sidewalk. Cold fingers, trailing down my neck. Hands numb, clutching my board.

"Do you longboard?" I asked without moving, breathing out my mouth. I was getting colder by the second, and it was almost becoming uncomfortable.

I heard him shift before he answered, "No. But I skate boarded a little when I was in highschool."

Grinning, I brought my gaze back to him. Nerdy little Zexion, not someone I would have pegged as a skater, but hey. Who'm I to judge? He looked distinctly uncomfortable, studying the grass to the left of my feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

"Well, it's kind of like… How going fast on a skateboard is like flying, you know?" His questioning glance told me he didn't. "It's like, moving fast like that, the wind and all, like…" I was gesturing with my free hand now, "if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you're above it all. It's freedom, you know? And, well, if the wind and the speed are freedom, then the rain is like… Like, forgiveness, kinda- redemption. Everything, all the bad feelings, all the bad memories, all of that, you can just go out and play in the rain, and it all becomes so much water under the bridge."

He was staring at me again, that same dazed look he had when he walked in the coffee shop earlier, and it did something to me. I'll go ahead and blame it on the celibacy- but the way he looked at me made my whole body hot.

And while I was thinking on this, lamenting the loss of my sexual prowess to the realms of teenaged boy sensitivity, Zexion walked back to me. Stood right in front of me. Glanced at my board, glanced at me- started unzipping his jacket, and sweet baby Jesus in a tuxedo.

He wore no shirt beneath the black hoodie. I hadn't noticed up until that point, as he hadn't moved to take the hoodie off, and honestly, fuck. I also hadn't noticed he was wearing shorts- who the hell gave him shorts, anyways? He always wore dress clothes to class- but when he took the jacket off, my eyes were drawn to the last bit of clothing on his body- and Chesty tittifucking Puller, they were hanging low on his hips.

It rocked me, from my skull to the heels of my feet, and back up- pooling heat in my groin. I think I might have been drooling.

"Demyx?"

Yep.

"May I?"

"Huh?" As you can tell, I was doing really well for myself in the talking arena.

He gestured to my board, while holding out his jacket. My brain, working slower than usual due to the heavy traffic, took a second or two to process his request before I handed over my longboard, and took his jacket. But it was totally worth it once I did.

He took my board and, with what looked like practiced ease, threw it and hopped on, kicking off towards the little pavilion in front of some of the student dorms.

I can't even pretend like a "no homo" would save me, at that point. The way his muscles moved under his skin, lithe form dancing with shadows and glinting with rain and light, was captivating. I felt like maybe I ought to let him borrow my board far more often, but only on the condition that he ride it shirtless. Maybe then I'd be able to look at him half naked and not immediately get hard.

Like I said, it felt like I was a fourteen year old boy again.

He got to the circle and hopped off- he could have made a 180 if he'd banked hard enough, maybe knelt down and put his body into it- but he instead turned the setup around, skating back to me and sending sprays of water in his wake.

Figuring it was about time for me to wipe the drool off my chin, I composed myself, standing up a little straighter, hoping it wasn't obvious that I was turned on. It was pretty dark; maybe he wouldn't notice?

When he got back to me, he hopped off the board again, catching it by the tail before it rolled away. He was breathing a little hard, but there was a little smile playing around his lips as he stood up that had me answering with a smile of my own.

"See what I mean?"

He laughed then, a genuine, if somewhat breathy sound. "Yes. I suppose I do, then."

I shivered. His voice was starting to get to me, too. "Want your jacket back?"

He shook his head. "I'll hold your longboard if you hold my jacket."

I shrugged, and he started walking, leaving me to look after him for a moment before breaking into a quick jog to catch up.

We didn't talk as we neared his dorm. He had this serene smile on his lips, just taking it all in, I guess, and I was preoccupied thinking about how different he was from what I had initially thought. Frosty? Cold? It was laughable.

It was almost as if he intentionally kept it hidden, that passionate, fiery side of him; he went through life, his day to day motions, quiet, observing, yet- when he was out here, with me and no one else, he smiled, laughed, saw as I saw- felt as I felt.

He stood in front of a door, which I assumed to be his since I'd never actually been in his room before, and leaned my board on the wall beside it before leaning against the same surface. I held out his jacket, which he eyed briefly before taking. He didn't put it on.

I'll admit it, I didn't want to leave.

The rain was still coming down, Zexion was still half naked- God, did the kid not have any skivvies on?- and I, despite the cold, was still horny. I had ascertained during the walk that it wasn't terribly noticeable, but it definitely remained at the forefront of my mind. Leaning opposite of the gray haired kid, I shoved my hands in my pockets, and stood in silence.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, just looked out through the rain and into the darkness.

After a time, I closed my eyes, and just listened. My heart beat, his breathing, the rain- it was like what I imagine heaven must be. And for a moment, and a moment more, everything was still.

Then I felt his hand on my cheek, soft, almost feather light, but it set my whole body ablaze. I had lost my goosebumps somewhere along the walk back, but they sprang to life beneath Zexion's fingers, and all down the right side of my body. I prayed he wouldn't notice the effect he had on me, but I didn't count on it.

A second later, I felt his hand on my hip- directly over one of my tattoos- and he spoke softly.

"What is this?"

I finally opened my eyes to find him gazing at my tattoo, a handprint, and covering it with his own. Two burning beacons on my flesh.

"It's my father's handprint." He glanced up at me and back down, before lightly tracing with all five of his fingers the mark. "I figured if I have a constant reminder of him, then maybe someday I'll be half the man he is." To that, he nodded, slowed his tracing. Moved to the tattoo above the handprint.

"And this?"

"It's a version of John 15:13," I murmured, capturing one of his fingers, and placing it at the beginning of the tattoo, just above my ribs, "A greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his brothers." He splayed his hand out above the tattoo, covering most of it.

I wondered, distantly, if he could feel my heart racing. Certainly, he could hear my uneven breathing, but then, he was entranced with all my tattoos. I couldn't tell if he noticed. Maybe it was better if he didn't; had he known the effect he was having on me, just these soft touches and innocent caresses, he might have… Well, shit, I dunno. Maybe he would have acted on it.

Instead, he continued tracing my tattoos, and I went from leaning on the wall opposite him to leaning on the wall behind him, propping myself up with one hand while I let him touch my naked flesh. He traced the swooping letters of my "Life" tattoo, and I could almost feel him count my ribs as he did. He paused then, and I noticed that at some point during his scrutiny, I had let my eyes slip closed.

"What does this mean?"

The smoldering trails his fingertips left on my skin led to his hand, resting on my left bicep tattoo. I answered without opening my eyes.

"It's Latin for 'That others may live'."

He hummed, tracing the lines, shading, the shapes and colors- his fingers danced over my skin, even dared to skim the top of my pants. At this point, I'd given up caring if he knew how turned on I was; I never wanted this sweet, sweet torture to end. He dragged his fingers up my other side, over "Liberty", coming to rest on my inner bicep tattoo, "Honor Over All".

I guess that last one was self explanatory, 'cause he didn't ask about it.

Somewhere along his exploration of my body, he had taken his hand from my face, but now he returned it, even added the other hand as if to make up for it.

With my eyes closed, I couldn't see- but the touches felt magnified, hot against my skin, and I knew he was close to me; I felt the heat of his bare chest, tasted his breath as it mingled with mine, and I wanted nothing more than to touch him, taste his skin, be inside of him. He took a shaky breath, and I reveled in the fact that I wasn't alone in feeling like my fucking world was tilting on its' axis.

"Is… Is that it? All your tattoos?"

I opened my eyes to gaze at him, take in his features for future recall- half lidded eyes, pouty lips, button nose, smooth skin- and leaned in further, until our noses crossed, our lips just brushing. I drank in his gasp, and the uneven breaths that followed, with a grin, before I slowly pulled myself away and down, tracing my hands across his chest, kneeling as I reached the flat expanse of his stomach.

His hands, having nowhere else to go, rested on my shoulders, and as I brought my gaze up, he cupped the back of my head. His eyes were almost closed, lower lip caught between his teeth, blushing furiously- I took a mental picture, before resting my forehead against his stomach, intentionally blowing a stream of cool air below his belly button. I reveled in the shudder that flowed from his body to mine.

Eventually, I rested my face against his hip, hugging him around the waist.

"Can you see it?"

"Huh…?"

It appeared that I wasn't the only one with less blood in one head than the other.

"My last tattoo. Can you see it?"

He moved against me, and suddenly his finger was back, between my shoulderblades, featherlight, tracing the wings of the eagle on my back, following the outline of the body until it reached the globe, tracing around the edge of the world and breaking off at the anchor, back, out, and around until he reached the other side of the globe. He traced this a few times, saying nothing, raising goosebumps down my spine.

I enjoyed the touches, and the feeling of his body, for longer than I care to reflect on. It may have been five minutes, or fifty; but by the time I decided it was time to go, we had mostly dried off.

"Zex?"

"Yes?"

"I should probably get going, huh?"

He sighed.

"I suppose..."

Neither of us made a move. He continued tracing my tattoo, and I stayed kneeling on the ground, cuddled into his stomach. My arousal still throbbed painfully, but I managed, through great effort, to ignore it. I could feel something in Zexion's shorts, but I was reluctant to investigate; we had been dating a grand total of two weeks. I certainly didn't want to scare him off, yet it seemed to me that he wanted this as much as I did. In spite of this, I was nervous. All the false confidence and bravado I'd developed over the years, man, it just fell away in the face of this slate haired kid, with his blue, blue eyes and that irresistible bottom lip that he had caught between his teeth. Just being this close made it hard for me to think.

Somewhere, my twenty-one year old ideals were rolling in their graves.

I stood, leaving my hands on Zexion's hips. He had to tilt his head back to meet my eye, which suited me just fine, but meet my eye he did, and he did so with a little smile.

"You know… You are just, just odd."

I grinned.

"Don't you mean 'fucking infuriating'?"

This made him laugh- I felt it against me, felt his body move and the breath leave his lips, and he said, "Why, yes, Demyx. I do believe you are fucking infuriating, as well."

Both my eyebrows raised in surprise. "Thought you didn't curse," I murmured, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

He rolled his eyes, grabbed me behind the neck, muttered, "Goddamnit, Demyx," and kissed me senseless.

-.-.

His legs were wrapped around my waist, and despite my level of intoxication- 'cause that's exactly the effect he has on me- I managed to kick the door closed behind me. I didn't even get my half formed question of, "Which bed-?" out before he answered, "Right," and then I was on top of him and he was scratching my back, pulling me closer.

All I wanted was him.

Around me, on top of me, on my skin, my lips- all I could think was Zexion, and I only realized I was whispering his name when he smirked against my skin. I scowled, but it was kinda dark- he probably wouldn't be able to see, but that was okay; I figured he'd be saying my name, soon enough.

Turns out, I was right.

A/N: Well, hi again. Been a month or so, sorry for the wait; work, and all. I've spent a good portion of the last few months living in a bush, but it would appear that I'm done with that for now. Can't say I'll dramatically increase the speed at which I update this, but on the bright side, I think it's almost done. Thanks for hanging in there with me, guys. Review please, and I won't force you to live in a bush with me.

-ARA