The Ugly Christmas Sweater - An LJ Exclusive
Title: The Ugly Christmas Sweater
Prompt: “That is, quite possibly, the ugliest Christmas sweater I have ever seen.”
Rating: T
Genre: Humor/General/Romance
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Demyx and Zexion
Note: Merry Christmas everyone!
Christmas Eve found one Demyx O’Donohue staring down at his address book with certain dread. Snow had begun to pile up outside, but there wasn’t enough for him to call his parents and inform them that he could not, in fact, make it to their Christmas party this year. Of course, for that to happen the world would have to freeze over- twice- as they lived rather close. Very close, in fact. So close he could walk down the street and wave hello.
Literally.
Thus, for it to be an inconvenience to get there walking would have to be deemed impossible. (And even then, his mother most likely had an entire cabinet-full of salt for such an occasion. He really wouldn’t put it passed her. The woman bought everything in bulk.)
To digress, we had left Demyx staring (rather pathetically) at his address book, which was really made up of two smaller books taped clumsily together. One might note that the two books were labeled the following, Men and Fag Hags. (One might also note that the latter was much thicker than the former.) Inhaling sharply, he flipped open the front book, a small three-ring clamp-in, and leveled the first page with a blank stare.
“Ansem,” he read slowly, testing the name on his tongue. “Tall, refined, Mom would like him…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “Too old,” the young man remarked, flipping to the next page, followed by the next in short succession. It was painfully thin, the first half of the address book, and full of the type of people who would really have nothing better to do on Christmas day than save him from his family. Frankly, it was so short he’d even memorized each person to go with their name. Before long he was in the ‘X’s. “Xaldin.” He paused long enough to grimace before moving on. “No way in hell.”
There were more names beginning with ‘X’ in the book than with any other letter, really, but before Demyx knew it he was on the last page with not a single phone call to show for his efforts. Slamming his head sharply into the nearest wall, the man groaned; a truly miserable sound. He stayed there for a bit and the coffee maker in the kitchen gave a great exclamation of its completion before the little red light from the other room he’d trained himself to ignore blinked out and he was left to stare at the archway in misery. Dragging himself from the desk, the blond made his way to the pot. Without bothering with the ceremony of sugar and creme he poured the brew straight into a Christmas mug with a frown and slunk back to his seat, steaming pick-me-up in hand.
The last name stared up at him, almost accusingly, and he choked out around a sip of coffee that he should have waited to take as he stared down at the book. The number sat delicately on the page, printed from the ‘flower script’ phase that was so popular among the girls he currently taught in High School, which he’d had the sudden urge to go through along with them. It was bubbly, stylish, and very easy to read. (It was one of the few benefits of being a gay Geometry teacher.)
He had no right to call the number listed under the name. None at all. He could still remember how he’d gotten it, literally stealing the boy’s backpack on their way to band practice so many years ago and ‘borrowing’ his math homework. Somehow, his wallet got caught up in the mix and Demyx wound up putting the chubby boy’s phone number in the book after stumbling upon it a few years before in his old diary. (Don’t judge.)
But anyone’s better than Xaldin.
Before he could convince himself not to, he’d taken hold of his cell and dialed the man’s number.
As it rang, he hoped many things. One hope was that the guy hadn’t keeled over at one point due to some complication related to his obesity. (He wasn’t that fat, a part of his mind argued. Just… really wide, which looked bad ‘cause he was short, too. Really short. Like, short like a midget short, even though he wasn’t. He totally wasn’t a midget.) Two; that the number still worked.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end was board; almost monotone. And dark. Very, very dark. Like ‘I’m going to kill you’ dark.
“Hi, uh…” Demyx trailed off, nervous. “I’m looking for Zexion…?”
“Speaking.” Same voice. Demyx prayed. He honest to goodness prayed for his well-being in this venture. Almost as an afterthought, the man added, “Who’s this?”
“This is Demyx O’Donohue. You might remember me from High School- Band class,” the blond replied awkwardly. “Remember me?”
Silence, then, “How did you get my number?”
“Umm…” Demyx winced. “Phone book. Anyway, what are you doing for Christmas?” This was said much faster than he’d intended it to be.
Once again, a short period of quiet passed before something shuffled and Zexion spoke. “Nothing; did you have something in mind?”
The man could have leapt for joy. “Well, my parents are hosting a Christmas party, and Mom will be pulling the old ‘this is Christie and she-’”
“So you need a male date.”
There was an awkward pause before Demyx sighed. “Pretty much… But,” he continued, speaking his next words with important certainty, “it’s not really a date so you don’t have to worry about it!” This was shortly followed by a series of mumbled words. These reached the other end in a jumble.
On the other side of the line, brushing aside a line of blue fringe, Zexion yawned and glanced back at the clock. It read ten at night.
“What was that?” he inquired, pushing his sheets back to slip naked feet to the cold hardwood floors beneath with a shiver. Ignoring it, he stood and traversed the room to look out the sliding door. Petite fingers slipped between thick curtains to pull them aside. Light flooded the room, reflecting off the piled snow outside to blind him, and overhead the balcony lights glared at the pile. Squinting, the bluenette reached over to flip the lights off, heaving a sigh of relief as the room went dark. “That last part- what did you say?” Sliding cold feet into dark blue slippers, the young blue-haired man shrugged a robe over nude shoulders and slipped outside. His thin boxers did nothing to shield his legs from the bite of the cold winter air, but he stayed outside anyway, sending nervous glances in the direction of his roommates bedroom.
“Umm…” He sounded nervous. Not nervous as in ‘I’m blushing’ nervous- more like ‘I said it quietly for a reason’ nervous. “I said, ‘Only if you want it to be.” And it was, in fact, an ‘I said it quietly because it was a joke’ nervous.
“Ah,” the bluenette confirmed, his tone neither positive nor negative as the sentiment of the ‘Umm…’ didn’t surpass him. He shrugged it off. “So when does the party start, end, how are we getting there, and what’s your address?” Chuckling was heard on the other end, and the questions were all answered in chronological order, much to Zexion’s chagrin.
“So I’ll see you then?” Demyx inquired joyfully.
“Yes; it’s a date.”
“Wait- serious!?” This exclamation was met by nothing more than a dial-tone, leaving Demyx to stare at the phone in shock, face aflame.
…
Sharp, violent knocking literally startled Demyx out of bed the next morning. Groaning, the blond reached up to grasp the side of the bed he’d fallen from, eyes spotting in pain. The knocking came again, drawing a groan form the man. “Coming!” he shouted miserably, and the knocking miraculously ceased. Nursing his back with a weary hand, the blond made his way to the front door. Glancing at the clock on the way, which brought to his attention the fact that it was barely nine, he shivered in the brink morning air. Rubbing the sleep from one eye, he wrenched open the door.
There he was met with a face-full of confetti.
“Please tell me you have coffee,” Zexion miserably requested from the iced porch.
“Says the man with the party popper.” Ushering the man inside, Demyx quickly shut the door behind his guest. “Can I take your coat?” he asked, motioning to the fluffy monstrosity that engulfed the shorter man’s figure- or, rather, what could be seen of it. A thick hand-knitted scarf of an unusually dull green covered his neck along with a majority of his face, and the ‘fluffy monstrosity’ was long enough to cover the man clear to his knees, where big, black rubber boots touched the hem oh-so-violently. Even his gloves were big, and there would have been no way to tell if the man even existed beyond the many layers of cloth if not for the dull blue eyes staring out behind the scarf, coat collar, and a good layer of blue fringe. And snow. Somehow snow had managed to make its way into every cranny of his guest’s outfit.
Once the majority of Zexion’s layers were removed, Demyx allowed his mouth to hand open.
“You’re skinny.”
“Close your mouth, Demyx.”
“But-” Demyx cut himself off, looking over the familiar man’s lithe form. The heavy winter coat and rubber boots had been stripped away to reveal slender thighs and shapely calves hugged flatteringly by skinny-jeans, and lean arms were cuddled in a soft-looking gray sweater. “It’s just- you used to be-”
“Fat?” A short silence followed the comment.
“Well, yes. Very.”
“And you expected me to be fat?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Well…” Demyx winced, shrugging a bit.
Scoffing, the bluenette gathered his boots from the floor. “Considering you went out of your way to invite the fat kid I guess that’s a credit to your personality.” He grabbed hold of his coat, then, and tried to juggle them, the boots, and the rest of the articles of clothing in his arms. “Now- where should I put these?”
Almost as if breaking out of a trance, Demyx started. “Oh! I’ll take those,” he offered, reaching to take the articles from his guest’s arms. Balancing them, rather precariously, he set about organizing the man’s things in the hallway closet, where they sat in rather close proximity with a series of suit jackets and raincoats. “I didn’t expect you so early,” the blond commented as he stepped into the kitchen, Zexion right behind him as he prepped the coffee maker.
“You woke me- it’s only natural that I return the favor.” This earned him a startled look.
“You were sleeping?”
“Rather comfortably, I may add.”
There was another short, slightly awkward pause. “Sorry.”
Shrugging it off, the smaller man turned his eyes to the coffee maker.
…
Snow crunched beneath their heavy boots, and ice gave way in sections at a time, which cause quite a few stumbles. It was no wonder Zexion's coat had been packed with snow; the streets were downright treacherous. Demyx blinked, watched Zexion almost suspiciously as the man maneuvered his way through the icy man-trap that was the piled snow.
“How'd you get here, anyway?” the taller man requested, tracing the bluenette's footprints with his own shoes almost tentatively. “I didn't see a car.”
“I take the bus,” was the response as the man idly glanced behind him. “If they stop running because of weather, though, I'll have to stay the night.”
“There's a guest room you can use back at the house,” the blond offered, taking a few more steps into the smaller man's direction. Sliding out beneath him, his foot shot off to the side, landing him shoulder-first in the seven-inch hell-pit they'd been carefully picking through. “Cold!” he yelped, attempting to free himself from the frozen pit he'd made. Much to his distress, Zexion chuckled. “It's not funny!” His arm had been lodged between two sheets, and his legs kicked uselessly in a decidedly horizontal position.
The only good side of the moment was the fact that he was not at just the right angle to glance through the gap between the other man's coat and boots, gracing him with a very nice view of the bluenette's behind as he walked on, still chuckling over Demyx's plight. Frankly, the blond was enjoying it a bit too much. Shuffling, he attempted to free himself from his mother-nature-induced cage, if only to keep his vantage from becoming a problem. That would have been embarrassing, to say the least.
After a good crick from his captor for his struggles, he sunk an extra inch.
“Help?” he begged, taking note that Zexion was a good seven feet away.
Blinking, the shorter man turned to take in the situation. Finally, giving a shrug, he hopped back over. “You owe me.”
“I already do,” the blond laughed. Before long he was free of the drift and they had trekked the rest of the block to arrive in front of the only house on the entire block with a clear driveway. A heavy layer of salt clung to the sidewalk, there, and the gutters were lined with lights and ice-proof ornaments. In a word, it was corny, and the inflated Santa waving to them that was knee-deep in the ice piled on the lawn didn't help matters. “This is it,” Demyx mused, giving the decorative caribou a glance as he neared the front door. Upon passing the deer a cheerful arrangement of bells greeted their ears- the only sound on the entire block.
Zexion gaped. “You've got to be kidding.”
The door blew open, then, and a plump woman leaped only the front steps with enough enthusiasm to rival the worst fangirl. Eyes alight, she immediately took hold of the blond man and very nearly forced him into a deathly tight hug. “Demyx!” she squealed, her voice to eager and sugary sweet the shorter man almost gagged. “You came,” she went on, still in the sickeningly sweet tone. Zexion could almost feel a cavity forming.
“Hi, Mom,” the blond managed around the woman's death grip. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!” the woman exclaimed happily before ushering the boy towards the house. “Now in- in! We don't want you catching a cold!”
They were half-way through the door when the blond finally pointed Zexion out to the (insane) woman. “Don't forget Zexion!”
His mother blinked once, twice, three times before turning to face the bluenette. “And you're a friend of Demyx's, I take it?” Her tone was hospitable, in a way, but her eyes seemed to crack a bit with the effort it took to speak.
Demyx winced. “He's my-”
“Boyfriend,” Zexion interrupted.
Her eyes were scared, but she persevered. “Like old friends? Well, that's nice. Now, Demyx, it's time to go inside.”
“Mom- we're going out.” Silence met this comment, and Zexion took this chance to walk up, pry the woman's arms from the taller man, and link fingers with his 'boyfriend.'
The woman grimaced. “But what about Belle?”
Demyx laughed, but Zexion had no idea why, at the time.
…
The first thing to greet the lazy hour of nine O'clock was a lonely grandmother clock sitting at the end of the hall. It's little tune was sweet; an intricate nine measures of Silent Night chimed by a series of music-box chords, and the sound hung in the air for mere moments before half a dozen conversations overwhelmed its song. The party was in full swing by then, and Demyx was mixing amiably with the other guests as Zexion stood in the corner with a few others, conversing about the latest books.
“Well, I thought Nobodies was well written,” a young brunette argued.
“It was,” Zexion replied, secretly suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “It is simply the main character that I have scruples with. Think about it for a second; they never actually said that the Nobodies were bad.”
“But number three-”
“Number three was an ass,” the man snipped. “What he was doing wasn't even following the ideals of the Organization!” There were a few murmurs of agreement from the rest of their circle.
Backing away from the subjects, his opponent nodded. “I give,” she supplied, one hand moving up to swipe a lock away from her exceptionally beautiful features. Extending the other appendage, she fixed Zexion with an even gaze. “Welcome, by the way. I'm Belle.”
Taking the offered hand, the man- shorter by at least three inches- nodded. “Zexion.”
“So who are you here with, Zexion?” she politely inquired. “I've never seen you here before.”
As their hands dropped the blue-haired man motioned to the blond across the room. “My boyfriend, Demyx.” There was a small row of laughter at his. “Is something amusing?”
“Nothing, really,” Belle replied. “Although have you brought this up with his mother, yet?”
“Yes, and she was very unpleasant about the whole idea.”
“Well, she was rather set that he and I would marry,” the woman retorted joyfully. “It was the first suggestion made by her that wasn't immediately taken to heart, so it might have left her a bit skewed.
…
“A white elephant?” Looking to the gifts piled beneath the tree, Zexion's fave screwed into a mix of confusion and slight unrest.
“Yeah,” Demyx confirmed, pushing a slip of paper at his 'boyfriend.' You get a present worth, at most, 100 munny and donate it to the pile; one for every person. Then you draw numbers as to who gets to randomly select first. Since I brought two presents in advance you get a turn, too.”
By the end of the evening Zexion had been stuck with a small, pitch0black stuffed animal with antennae and little yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow. Really, it looked as if it would steal the man's soul the moment he turned away- so he didn't. Keeping a close eye on the think, he made sure it didn't move. He wouldn't have to watch it for very long, anyways; people were already starting to leave. Eventually he and Demyx joined the line.
On their way out, however, they ran into a rather cliché trouble.
“Mistletoe!” one of the younger girls sang. She probably felt very proud of herself for that.
Threading their arms around each others' they ignored the plant and left. Behind them stood a small, slightly confused, group of people, but it didn't really matter. One could only handle so much 'family' time. The ground was icy, and a few extra layers of snow had fallen. Walking was difficult, but neither of them had any inclination to untangle their arms. Instead, they walked in comfortable silence, presents tucked under their free arms. Sneaking a glance at the shorter man, Demyx watched as the fog leaving his lips fell to trace the line of a slip jaw and a patterned scarf. The man was all bundled up, again, but certain parts were undone.
Before long they stood in front of Demyx's door, and the blond had unlocked it. Turning back to his guest, their gazes caught.
“I owe you one, Zexion,” he managed after a bit. “And it was good seeing you.”
“You as well,” the bluenette replied, watching carefully as the taller man slowly began to fidget. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it's just...” The taller man trailed off. It was not yet too late to catch the bus, so there was no reason for his guest to stay. Never-the-less, the blond stood to the right of the door, almost as if in invitation. “Mistletoe.”
“What-” Zexion's question was cut short as a chapped, cold pair of lips clumsily covered his own.
There had been no flirting, no invitations, and no mutual sign of interest. However, the moment just deserved a kiss, and before long it was over.
“Call me sometime,” the blond breathlessly suggested.
“You know,” Zexion began, giving the blond a once-over, if only just for show. “I forgot to tell you...” He trailed off.
“Yeah?” Demyx eagerly requested, his entire being at attention.
Placing a hand on the blond's chest, the bluenette pushed the man inside, followed him in, and closed the door with his foot. “That is the ugliest Christmas sweater I have ever seen.”
“H- how,” Demyx stuttered. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “How many have you seen?”
Grinning, Zexion moved to trace his lips along the taller man's collar bone, drawing a gasp from the blond. “This is the first one worthy of note.”
One might mention that the rest of the night went rather... well.
…
Just a quickie I wrote you guys for Christmas. It was originally on my notebook, so I decided to wait until Christmas so I could type it up on my new laptop. ^-^ Love you all!! Also- all the italics, bolds, and underlines were lost in translation and I don't feel like adding them in, so... yeah. I hope you liked it, and Merry Christmas!! <3
Love,
Besieged Infection
Prompt: “That is, quite possibly, the ugliest Christmas sweater I have ever seen.”
Rating: T
Genre: Humor/General/Romance
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Characters: Demyx and Zexion
Note: Merry Christmas everyone!
Christmas Eve found one Demyx O’Donohue staring down at his address book with certain dread. Snow had begun to pile up outside, but there wasn’t enough for him to call his parents and inform them that he could not, in fact, make it to their Christmas party this year. Of course, for that to happen the world would have to freeze over- twice- as they lived rather close. Very close, in fact. So close he could walk down the street and wave hello.
Literally.
Thus, for it to be an inconvenience to get there walking would have to be deemed impossible. (And even then, his mother most likely had an entire cabinet-full of salt for such an occasion. He really wouldn’t put it passed her. The woman bought everything in bulk.)
To digress, we had left Demyx staring (rather pathetically) at his address book, which was really made up of two smaller books taped clumsily together. One might note that the two books were labeled the following, Men and Fag Hags. (One might also note that the latter was much thicker than the former.) Inhaling sharply, he flipped open the front book, a small three-ring clamp-in, and leveled the first page with a blank stare.
“Ansem,” he read slowly, testing the name on his tongue. “Tall, refined, Mom would like him…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “Too old,” the young man remarked, flipping to the next page, followed by the next in short succession. It was painfully thin, the first half of the address book, and full of the type of people who would really have nothing better to do on Christmas day than save him from his family. Frankly, it was so short he’d even memorized each person to go with their name. Before long he was in the ‘X’s. “Xaldin.” He paused long enough to grimace before moving on. “No way in hell.”
There were more names beginning with ‘X’ in the book than with any other letter, really, but before Demyx knew it he was on the last page with not a single phone call to show for his efforts. Slamming his head sharply into the nearest wall, the man groaned; a truly miserable sound. He stayed there for a bit and the coffee maker in the kitchen gave a great exclamation of its completion before the little red light from the other room he’d trained himself to ignore blinked out and he was left to stare at the archway in misery. Dragging himself from the desk, the blond made his way to the pot. Without bothering with the ceremony of sugar and creme he poured the brew straight into a Christmas mug with a frown and slunk back to his seat, steaming pick-me-up in hand.
The last name stared up at him, almost accusingly, and he choked out around a sip of coffee that he should have waited to take as he stared down at the book. The number sat delicately on the page, printed from the ‘flower script’ phase that was so popular among the girls he currently taught in High School, which he’d had the sudden urge to go through along with them. It was bubbly, stylish, and very easy to read. (It was one of the few benefits of being a gay Geometry teacher.)
He had no right to call the number listed under the name. None at all. He could still remember how he’d gotten it, literally stealing the boy’s backpack on their way to band practice so many years ago and ‘borrowing’ his math homework. Somehow, his wallet got caught up in the mix and Demyx wound up putting the chubby boy’s phone number in the book after stumbling upon it a few years before in his old diary. (Don’t judge.)
But anyone’s better than Xaldin.
Before he could convince himself not to, he’d taken hold of his cell and dialed the man’s number.
As it rang, he hoped many things. One hope was that the guy hadn’t keeled over at one point due to some complication related to his obesity. (He wasn’t that fat, a part of his mind argued. Just… really wide, which looked bad ‘cause he was short, too. Really short. Like, short like a midget short, even though he wasn’t. He totally wasn’t a midget.) Two; that the number still worked.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end was board; almost monotone. And dark. Very, very dark. Like ‘I’m going to kill you’ dark.
“Hi, uh…” Demyx trailed off, nervous. “I’m looking for Zexion…?”
“Speaking.” Same voice. Demyx prayed. He honest to goodness prayed for his well-being in this venture. Almost as an afterthought, the man added, “Who’s this?”
“This is Demyx O’Donohue. You might remember me from High School- Band class,” the blond replied awkwardly. “Remember me?”
Silence, then, “How did you get my number?”
“Umm…” Demyx winced. “Phone book. Anyway, what are you doing for Christmas?” This was said much faster than he’d intended it to be.
Once again, a short period of quiet passed before something shuffled and Zexion spoke. “Nothing; did you have something in mind?”
The man could have leapt for joy. “Well, my parents are hosting a Christmas party, and Mom will be pulling the old ‘this is Christie and she-’”
“So you need a male date.”
There was an awkward pause before Demyx sighed. “Pretty much… But,” he continued, speaking his next words with important certainty, “it’s not really a date so you don’t have to worry about it!” This was shortly followed by a series of mumbled words. These reached the other end in a jumble.
On the other side of the line, brushing aside a line of blue fringe, Zexion yawned and glanced back at the clock. It read ten at night.
“What was that?” he inquired, pushing his sheets back to slip naked feet to the cold hardwood floors beneath with a shiver. Ignoring it, he stood and traversed the room to look out the sliding door. Petite fingers slipped between thick curtains to pull them aside. Light flooded the room, reflecting off the piled snow outside to blind him, and overhead the balcony lights glared at the pile. Squinting, the bluenette reached over to flip the lights off, heaving a sigh of relief as the room went dark. “That last part- what did you say?” Sliding cold feet into dark blue slippers, the young blue-haired man shrugged a robe over nude shoulders and slipped outside. His thin boxers did nothing to shield his legs from the bite of the cold winter air, but he stayed outside anyway, sending nervous glances in the direction of his roommates bedroom.
“Umm…” He sounded nervous. Not nervous as in ‘I’m blushing’ nervous- more like ‘I said it quietly for a reason’ nervous. “I said, ‘Only if you want it to be.” And it was, in fact, an ‘I said it quietly because it was a joke’ nervous.
“Ah,” the bluenette confirmed, his tone neither positive nor negative as the sentiment of the ‘Umm…’ didn’t surpass him. He shrugged it off. “So when does the party start, end, how are we getting there, and what’s your address?” Chuckling was heard on the other end, and the questions were all answered in chronological order, much to Zexion’s chagrin.
“So I’ll see you then?” Demyx inquired joyfully.
“Yes; it’s a date.”
“Wait- serious!?” This exclamation was met by nothing more than a dial-tone, leaving Demyx to stare at the phone in shock, face aflame.
…
Sharp, violent knocking literally startled Demyx out of bed the next morning. Groaning, the blond reached up to grasp the side of the bed he’d fallen from, eyes spotting in pain. The knocking came again, drawing a groan form the man. “Coming!” he shouted miserably, and the knocking miraculously ceased. Nursing his back with a weary hand, the blond made his way to the front door. Glancing at the clock on the way, which brought to his attention the fact that it was barely nine, he shivered in the brink morning air. Rubbing the sleep from one eye, he wrenched open the door.
There he was met with a face-full of confetti.
“Please tell me you have coffee,” Zexion miserably requested from the iced porch.
“Says the man with the party popper.” Ushering the man inside, Demyx quickly shut the door behind his guest. “Can I take your coat?” he asked, motioning to the fluffy monstrosity that engulfed the shorter man’s figure- or, rather, what could be seen of it. A thick hand-knitted scarf of an unusually dull green covered his neck along with a majority of his face, and the ‘fluffy monstrosity’ was long enough to cover the man clear to his knees, where big, black rubber boots touched the hem oh-so-violently. Even his gloves were big, and there would have been no way to tell if the man even existed beyond the many layers of cloth if not for the dull blue eyes staring out behind the scarf, coat collar, and a good layer of blue fringe. And snow. Somehow snow had managed to make its way into every cranny of his guest’s outfit.
Once the majority of Zexion’s layers were removed, Demyx allowed his mouth to hand open.
“You’re skinny.”
“Close your mouth, Demyx.”
“But-” Demyx cut himself off, looking over the familiar man’s lithe form. The heavy winter coat and rubber boots had been stripped away to reveal slender thighs and shapely calves hugged flatteringly by skinny-jeans, and lean arms were cuddled in a soft-looking gray sweater. “It’s just- you used to be-”
“Fat?” A short silence followed the comment.
“Well, yes. Very.”
“And you expected me to be fat?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Well…” Demyx winced, shrugging a bit.
Scoffing, the bluenette gathered his boots from the floor. “Considering you went out of your way to invite the fat kid I guess that’s a credit to your personality.” He grabbed hold of his coat, then, and tried to juggle them, the boots, and the rest of the articles of clothing in his arms. “Now- where should I put these?”
Almost as if breaking out of a trance, Demyx started. “Oh! I’ll take those,” he offered, reaching to take the articles from his guest’s arms. Balancing them, rather precariously, he set about organizing the man’s things in the hallway closet, where they sat in rather close proximity with a series of suit jackets and raincoats. “I didn’t expect you so early,” the blond commented as he stepped into the kitchen, Zexion right behind him as he prepped the coffee maker.
“You woke me- it’s only natural that I return the favor.” This earned him a startled look.
“You were sleeping?”
“Rather comfortably, I may add.”
There was another short, slightly awkward pause. “Sorry.”
Shrugging it off, the smaller man turned his eyes to the coffee maker.
…
Snow crunched beneath their heavy boots, and ice gave way in sections at a time, which cause quite a few stumbles. It was no wonder Zexion's coat had been packed with snow; the streets were downright treacherous. Demyx blinked, watched Zexion almost suspiciously as the man maneuvered his way through the icy man-trap that was the piled snow.
“How'd you get here, anyway?” the taller man requested, tracing the bluenette's footprints with his own shoes almost tentatively. “I didn't see a car.”
“I take the bus,” was the response as the man idly glanced behind him. “If they stop running because of weather, though, I'll have to stay the night.”
“There's a guest room you can use back at the house,” the blond offered, taking a few more steps into the smaller man's direction. Sliding out beneath him, his foot shot off to the side, landing him shoulder-first in the seven-inch hell-pit they'd been carefully picking through. “Cold!” he yelped, attempting to free himself from the frozen pit he'd made. Much to his distress, Zexion chuckled. “It's not funny!” His arm had been lodged between two sheets, and his legs kicked uselessly in a decidedly horizontal position.
The only good side of the moment was the fact that he was not at just the right angle to glance through the gap between the other man's coat and boots, gracing him with a very nice view of the bluenette's behind as he walked on, still chuckling over Demyx's plight. Frankly, the blond was enjoying it a bit too much. Shuffling, he attempted to free himself from his mother-nature-induced cage, if only to keep his vantage from becoming a problem. That would have been embarrassing, to say the least.
After a good crick from his captor for his struggles, he sunk an extra inch.
“Help?” he begged, taking note that Zexion was a good seven feet away.
Blinking, the shorter man turned to take in the situation. Finally, giving a shrug, he hopped back over. “You owe me.”
“I already do,” the blond laughed. Before long he was free of the drift and they had trekked the rest of the block to arrive in front of the only house on the entire block with a clear driveway. A heavy layer of salt clung to the sidewalk, there, and the gutters were lined with lights and ice-proof ornaments. In a word, it was corny, and the inflated Santa waving to them that was knee-deep in the ice piled on the lawn didn't help matters. “This is it,” Demyx mused, giving the decorative caribou a glance as he neared the front door. Upon passing the deer a cheerful arrangement of bells greeted their ears- the only sound on the entire block.
Zexion gaped. “You've got to be kidding.”
The door blew open, then, and a plump woman leaped only the front steps with enough enthusiasm to rival the worst fangirl. Eyes alight, she immediately took hold of the blond man and very nearly forced him into a deathly tight hug. “Demyx!” she squealed, her voice to eager and sugary sweet the shorter man almost gagged. “You came,” she went on, still in the sickeningly sweet tone. Zexion could almost feel a cavity forming.
“Hi, Mom,” the blond managed around the woman's death grip. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!” the woman exclaimed happily before ushering the boy towards the house. “Now in- in! We don't want you catching a cold!”
They were half-way through the door when the blond finally pointed Zexion out to the (insane) woman. “Don't forget Zexion!”
His mother blinked once, twice, three times before turning to face the bluenette. “And you're a friend of Demyx's, I take it?” Her tone was hospitable, in a way, but her eyes seemed to crack a bit with the effort it took to speak.
Demyx winced. “He's my-”
“Boyfriend,” Zexion interrupted.
Her eyes were scared, but she persevered. “Like old friends? Well, that's nice. Now, Demyx, it's time to go inside.”
“Mom- we're going out.” Silence met this comment, and Zexion took this chance to walk up, pry the woman's arms from the taller man, and link fingers with his 'boyfriend.'
The woman grimaced. “But what about Belle?”
Demyx laughed, but Zexion had no idea why, at the time.
…
The first thing to greet the lazy hour of nine O'clock was a lonely grandmother clock sitting at the end of the hall. It's little tune was sweet; an intricate nine measures of Silent Night chimed by a series of music-box chords, and the sound hung in the air for mere moments before half a dozen conversations overwhelmed its song. The party was in full swing by then, and Demyx was mixing amiably with the other guests as Zexion stood in the corner with a few others, conversing about the latest books.
“Well, I thought Nobodies was well written,” a young brunette argued.
“It was,” Zexion replied, secretly suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “It is simply the main character that I have scruples with. Think about it for a second; they never actually said that the Nobodies were bad.”
“But number three-”
“Number three was an ass,” the man snipped. “What he was doing wasn't even following the ideals of the Organization!” There were a few murmurs of agreement from the rest of their circle.
Backing away from the subjects, his opponent nodded. “I give,” she supplied, one hand moving up to swipe a lock away from her exceptionally beautiful features. Extending the other appendage, she fixed Zexion with an even gaze. “Welcome, by the way. I'm Belle.”
Taking the offered hand, the man- shorter by at least three inches- nodded. “Zexion.”
“So who are you here with, Zexion?” she politely inquired. “I've never seen you here before.”
As their hands dropped the blue-haired man motioned to the blond across the room. “My boyfriend, Demyx.” There was a small row of laughter at his. “Is something amusing?”
“Nothing, really,” Belle replied. “Although have you brought this up with his mother, yet?”
“Yes, and she was very unpleasant about the whole idea.”
“Well, she was rather set that he and I would marry,” the woman retorted joyfully. “It was the first suggestion made by her that wasn't immediately taken to heart, so it might have left her a bit skewed.
…
“A white elephant?” Looking to the gifts piled beneath the tree, Zexion's fave screwed into a mix of confusion and slight unrest.
“Yeah,” Demyx confirmed, pushing a slip of paper at his 'boyfriend.' You get a present worth, at most, 100 munny and donate it to the pile; one for every person. Then you draw numbers as to who gets to randomly select first. Since I brought two presents in advance you get a turn, too.”
By the end of the evening Zexion had been stuck with a small, pitch0black stuffed animal with antennae and little yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow. Really, it looked as if it would steal the man's soul the moment he turned away- so he didn't. Keeping a close eye on the think, he made sure it didn't move. He wouldn't have to watch it for very long, anyways; people were already starting to leave. Eventually he and Demyx joined the line.
On their way out, however, they ran into a rather cliché trouble.
“Mistletoe!” one of the younger girls sang. She probably felt very proud of herself for that.
Threading their arms around each others' they ignored the plant and left. Behind them stood a small, slightly confused, group of people, but it didn't really matter. One could only handle so much 'family' time. The ground was icy, and a few extra layers of snow had fallen. Walking was difficult, but neither of them had any inclination to untangle their arms. Instead, they walked in comfortable silence, presents tucked under their free arms. Sneaking a glance at the shorter man, Demyx watched as the fog leaving his lips fell to trace the line of a slip jaw and a patterned scarf. The man was all bundled up, again, but certain parts were undone.
Before long they stood in front of Demyx's door, and the blond had unlocked it. Turning back to his guest, their gazes caught.
“I owe you one, Zexion,” he managed after a bit. “And it was good seeing you.”
“You as well,” the bluenette replied, watching carefully as the taller man slowly began to fidget. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it's just...” The taller man trailed off. It was not yet too late to catch the bus, so there was no reason for his guest to stay. Never-the-less, the blond stood to the right of the door, almost as if in invitation. “Mistletoe.”
“What-” Zexion's question was cut short as a chapped, cold pair of lips clumsily covered his own.
There had been no flirting, no invitations, and no mutual sign of interest. However, the moment just deserved a kiss, and before long it was over.
“Call me sometime,” the blond breathlessly suggested.
“You know,” Zexion began, giving the blond a once-over, if only just for show. “I forgot to tell you...” He trailed off.
“Yeah?” Demyx eagerly requested, his entire being at attention.
Placing a hand on the blond's chest, the bluenette pushed the man inside, followed him in, and closed the door with his foot. “That is the ugliest Christmas sweater I have ever seen.”
“H- how,” Demyx stuttered. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “How many have you seen?”
Grinning, Zexion moved to trace his lips along the taller man's collar bone, drawing a gasp from the blond. “This is the first one worthy of note.”
One might mention that the rest of the night went rather... well.
…
Just a quickie I wrote you guys for Christmas. It was originally on my notebook, so I decided to wait until Christmas so I could type it up on my new laptop. ^-^ Love you all!! Also- all the italics, bolds, and underlines were lost in translation and I don't feel like adding them in, so... yeah. I hope you liked it, and Merry Christmas!! <3
Love,
Besieged Infection