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mllelaurelFandom: Kingdom Hearts
Title: Man Has No Choice When He Wants Everything
Author: Lily
Characters/Pairings: Axel, others. Multiple pairings, both slash and het.
Rating: Hard R, I'd say.
Spoilers: Chain of Memories and 358/2.
Warnings: Sex, some violence.
Summary: Occasionally, he remembers that he doesn’t have a heart anymore and waits for his chest to start hurting. It doesn’t.
Word Count: 4,827
I.
Axel’s first few days with the Organization are underwhelming. Xemnas’s grand plans wash right over him. It’s only when he turns and sees Saix listening raptly that his stomach flips the way it used to when his Other was scared. He attributes it to the fact that the only one of them who can cook worth a damn is currently buried in some obscure project and can’t be bothered.
Occasionally, he remembers that he doesn’t have a heart anymore and waits for his chest to start hurting. It doesn’t.
He and Saix don’t talk about their plans much. Neither of them has a good idea, yet, of who might be listening in and where. Apparently, the penalties for traitorous intent are pretty damn harsh.
In lieu of talking, he finds himself wanting to touch. It’s something their Others used to do. But when he kisses Saix, it just feels kind of empty and weird. Wet, and clumsier than it’s been since the two of them were barely more than kids.
Makes sense, he supposes. Kissing is more of an emotional thing than a physical one, and neither of them has that option anymore.
Despite this, he kind of thinks he might want to try again, when they pull apart. The look on Saix’s face won’t tell him whether he’s thinking the same thing. It bothers him. He’d known Isa well enough to practically read his mind, once, but he’s completely impassive now.
Well, whatever.
II.
Kissing may be a bust, but there are other options out there. He’s pretty sure fucking would be enough sensation to jolt him awake. Can’t fall asleep on the job, and some part of him believes that’s just what he’s going to do if he’s not careful. Like he’s going to fade back into the darkness, if he doesn’t concentrate on living hard enough.
He finds Xigbar in a deserted wing of the castle and thinks, why not? Xigbar is entertaining and less likely to read political connotations into the move than some of the others.
He’s the one who pulls Xigbar forward, so that the older Nobody is pressing him into the nearest wall. It’s a move that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’ The Organization is full of power plays, and it’s best to clear up the difference between wanting it up the ass and being someone else’s bitch.
Xigbar laughs himself sick when he gets it, which is damn near immediately. The feel of it vibrates through Axel’s body, making him want to purr. “You play an interesting game, kid,” Xigbar says, and proceeds to fuck the hell out of him, right against that wall.
Anyone could walk in on them, just like that, but the possibility is neither thrilling nor scary. There are no rules against it, and what are they going to do, stand there and offer suggestions?
III.
He’s talking out of his ass, trying to prove a point – to Xaldin, of all people – about squadron solidarity, and somewhere in there, he winds up throwing his arms around the nearest Assassin, for emphasis.
The Assassin’s spikes poke through his coat, piercing skin. It’s a shame, Axel thinks, that he can’t strip right here, to see if the stuff leaking out of him is blood or darkness.
It doesn’t hurt that much, for all that the Assassin is radiating concern and question marks through his mind. Xaldin still looks at him like he’s an idiot.
Later, when he checks, the cuts have already closed. He wipes off the light crusting of blood, already turned brown on him, and grins.
IV.
The thing about Demyx is that he puts way too much stock in kissing. Axel gets that habits die hard, but this is ridiculous. He imagines what Demyx must have been like when he was alive. A good boy, probably, or one of those bad boys who’s secretly soft, under a pathetically thin veneer of toughness. He claims to have been a rock star, but with the way he can barely even keep his sitar tuned, Axel’s not sure he believes him.
It’s still fun, singing off key to watch him cringe. He’s gotten Demyx to promise, once, that he’d do anything so long as Axel stopped killing his ears. Axel’s going to take him up on that, one of these days.
In the meantime, Axel knows how to be distracting when Demyx’s overtures get too sweet for his blood sugar. There’s a particular tendon on Demyx’s throat that makes him bliss out if Axel bites down on it, hard. Gotta give the guy credit: he knows how to feel good. The way he looks, when Axel’s fucking him, eyes hazed over, muscles bunching and releasing, sweaty clumps of hair falling into his eyes. It’s like his mind’s been blown out, and every cell in his body is thrumming with energy.
Axel kind of envies him that.
They lie around talking, afterward. Axel keeps his coat on, even if his pants have wound up somewhere under the bed. Mostly, they talk about the lack of girls in the Org and how much that sucks (and seriously, dude, Demyx says, what’s up with that? He knows women can be fuck-stubborn, so where are all the ladies at?)
Sometimes, they talk about the shitty missions they get assigned, because where’s the fun in those if you can’t bitch about them later. Like the one Axel got in The Land of Dragons, his first month with the Org. Axel likes the Land of Dragons just fine – its snowy mountains, on the other hand, can suck him. There were parts of that mission where he thought he was going to die, where he couldn’t take a breath because the air felt like ice in his lungs. Even covered with gloves, his hands hurt like a bitch. At least before they stopped hurting and numbed the fuck out.
He’d stuck them in hot water when he got back, cause he was a retard who came from a temperate world. That got feeling back into them, all right, and if he thought it’d hurt before…
Demyx generally manages to wiggle out of missions like that. Axel doesn’t want to know how, though the way he hits Axel’s personal liquor stash afterward is answer enough, in its own way.
And sometimes, very rarely, the conversation turns philosophical. “I know we don’t have physical hearts,” Demyx says, his hand resting on Axel’s chest. “But we can feel. I know it. I live with it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Axel says. “If you prick us, do we not bleed.” He remembers what feeling felt like, and it’s never happened to him once, in this half-life he’s woken to.
But Demyx insists, and what the hell, maybe he really does feel something. Maybe he’s just special; the fucking Messiah walking among unbelievers.
If that’s the case, Axel will take the unbeliever card and keep it.
V.
Sometimes, Saix still calls him ‘Lea.’ It feels weird, like a coat you outgrew years ago. He refuses to answer, until Saix’s voice tightens and he says ‘Axel’ with barely-concealed disdain.
He does wear his coat too tight, as a matter of fact, something Saix has called him suicidal for, at least once. Why would someone who depends on speed and arm movement want them hampered?
Truth is, Axel likes a challenge. The added difficulty keeps him on his toes, keeps him too smart to blow any fight off as ‘too easy.’ Those are always the ones that get you, in the end.
And if the tightness of the sleeves reminds him where his body is and what it’s doing, so much the better.
VI.
He remembers something Xigbar once told him:
“Your body isn’t human anymore. It can break, sure. But so long as it ain’t fatal, you can heal from it no matter what. A cut? Will be gone within an hour. Losing a finger? That could take longer to re-grow. A day, maybe two.
“No one I know’s ever been stupid enough to lose a whole limb, so I don’t know how long that’d take. …Say, you wanna volunteer? Give our scientists some awesome data.”
Axel flips him the bird, grinning. “How about if it’s my head?”
Xigbar ‘tsks’ at him. “Don’t ever lose your head,” he says. “You lose that, and you’re dead no matter what.” He seems almost serious when he says that.
“So, how about you?” Axel asks, pointing at the eyepatch.
“Oh, I got that badge of honor back in the bad old days.” He puts on a mysterious face, like he wants Axel to ask how, but Axel knows there won’t be a word of truth in whatever story he gets, except maybe ‘the.’
The bit about their bodies is true, though. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stranger. Nothing changes. Axel’s shaved his head, once, just to see if he could. The hair had grown back by next morning, looking just like it used to and begging for hairgel. It’s creepy, but a guy could start thinking he’s invincible, this way.
VII.
To say that Axel’s not thrilled about being forced to play nanny goat to the Superior’s precious Key of Destiny is putting it mildly. He’s got better things to do, and the blank look on XIII’s face tells him the kid’s wit and charm ain’t gonna get him through a conversation.
But a job’s a job, so Axel makes nice. An arm around the shoulders nearly earns him a Keyblade to the gut. It’s a close call: if he had a heart, it would be hammering now, glad to be alive. Instead, he laughs till he can’t breathe and offers the kid ice-cream.
“What’s ice-cream?” Roxas asks, totally serious.
It only hits Axel then what lacking memories does to one of them. It’s not like Roxas can’t talk. He knows what a chair is. He can get dressed or undressed on his own (and won’t appreciate offers to help with the latter.) But all non-essential concepts, those strongly related to emotions? Those are gone, along with his life history.
The thought makes Axel feel like he’d been Blizzagaed in the face. Not exactly something ice-cream’s going to help with, but he’s already put it on the menu, so.
He portals the two of them to Twilight Town, cause it’s close and he knows the route. It’s a pretty place, if a bit too rich and suburban for his blood.
“It’s where I’m from,” Roxas says.
“Where Xemnas found you?”
Roxas nods.
The local ice-cream’s funny-tasting. Salty, and not really Axel’s thing, but Roxas seems to like it fine.
Heh. Figures he’d take his charge off to lick a salty, phallic object on their first day out. If he told the others he hadn’t planned it, they’d never believe him. Hell, he probably would have planned it, if he’d had the info down.
Roxas’s eyes are closed, like he’s putting everything he has into memorizing the taste. He eats like a cat does, tongue occasionally darting out to lick, then darting back in. It’s a damn cute tongue.
The warmth of the ever-setting sun feels good on Axel’s face, makes him want to close his own eyes and bask. But then, he catches a glimpse of Roxas squinting up into the beams and he can’t look away.
The first time he sees an expression on Roxas’s face, he takes it as a personal accomplishment. That the expression is one of annoyance just makes it better.
VIII.
He’s neutral on the subject of fucking Larxene. Sure, he misses pussy, but he doesn’t miss it that much, and it’s not like she lets anyone other than Marluxia touch her, anyway. It’s other things about her that make her entertaining, like her nasty sense of humor, or the way she goes through the library almost as fast as he does.
And then, there’s her other hobby.
She doesn’t bother tying him down. Lightning’s good enough, coursing through his nerves and paralyzing him. The way he is, she could do anything to him right now, and that would worry him, if he hadn’t already given her the go-ahead to do just that.
She materializes her knives in her hands, like a wild cat stretching out its claws. That’s something Larxene’s got on the rest of them. The weapons she can manifest are infinite in number, or if they’re not she has yet to find their limit.
“You’re thinking,” she scolds, and slashes below his neck, less than an inch away from his artery. “I wonder,” she muses, “if I could carve my name into your chest. You’d have to wear it for the rest of the day, like a lover’s token.”
He thinks about names carved into trees, with hearts and arrows between them. Stupid, childish acts of affection.
“Too bad you don’t have any ‘I’s in your name,” he says. “Then you could dot ‘em with a heart.”
Larxene giggles, light and girlish. “Blame my mother. She’s the one who named me.” She goes to work, the knives sharp enough that he only feels pain moments after they’ve parted skin.
Axel reminds himself to keep his breaths even, keep a smirk on his lips and in his eyes.
He still can’t hold back a scream when she plunges a knife into his chest, right where his heart used to be.
She pouts, like he’d ruined her fun, like she doesn’t get off on the sound of screams. “What? It’s not like there’s anything vital in there.”
IX.
Marluxia’s different. He’s slow and deliberate, his eyes fixed on Axel’s every move and expression. The air’s scented with wisteria and sweat. Marluxia’s hands are almost gentle, belying the fact that it would probably take some effort for Axel to break free from his grip, if he wanted to.
He’s not about to try. It’s not what he’s here for. He wants evidence. Oh, Axel knows he won’t find it in Marluxia’s bed. He doubts Xemnas would buy ‘he kisses like a traitor.’ Hell, Xemnas won’t even pull the stick out of his ass long enough to get the joke. But this goes a way toward, if not getting Marluxia to trust him than at least getting him to accept Axel as a positive and amusing fixture at Castle Oblivion.
Marluxia wants to see him come apart, wants to crack him open, until he finds seeds of dissatisfaction with the way things currently are. He wants an ally and he wants someone he can possess, someone to lay claim to, in a way he can’t ever do with Larxene.
Axel can give him that. For a time.
He stretches out and closes his eyes, a picture of aroused contentment, and feels Marluxia smile against his neck. Vines replace Marluxia’s grip on his wrists, dragging his arms out and to the bedposts. His legs remain free, the better for Marluxia to maneuver.
Axel has never met anyone who took as much time and care with touch as Marluxia. Every point of contact is fraught with meaning, calculated to the last iota. He wants Axel gasping for release before he even fully joins the action, and he pretty much gets what he wants.
He’s not nearly so gentle when he finally presses inside, thrusting in hard and rough, and fuck, Axel likes that, he likes it almost too much. He gasps, hands scrambling at the vines, and for once, he’s no longer sure what expression his face is wearing. Whatever it is, Marluxia seems happy enough with it, though. When Axel slits his eyes open just enough to check, the look he sees on Marluxia’s own face is triumphant.
It takes Axel a moment to recover, after the vines have let go of him, and in that moment, he finds Marluxia sprawled over him, almost casual. An arm draped over his chest, hand on his far shoulder. Axel’s never taken the guy for a cuddler – still doesn’t. No, this is yet another gambit on XI’s part. He’s seeing how far he can push Axel. And it’s not that Axel hasn’t faked a good number of things in his unlife, but something about this enforced imitation of intimacy bothers him more than the rest of it, even the vulnerability of being pinned down.
He could portal now. ‘Go ahead,’ Marluxia’s actions seem to be daring him. But to do that would be to lose all the advantage he has. Instead, he has a little talk with his muscles, forces them to relax with an act of will. Closes his eyes and adds faking sleep to the grand old list of his acting accomplishments.
X.
He’s never so much as laid a hand on Naminé, not once. Big blue eyes may be his thing, but not if they’re on a scared little girl. He wonders why the hell she doesn’t just portal outta that stupid room of hers. She can do that, right?
Either she can’t, or Marluxia’s got her so brainwashed she doesn’t consider escape. Little bird’s got her wings clipped, even with the cage door open. Creeps the fuck out of Axel. How does someone that weak-willed get to call herself a Nobody?
He’s pretty flattered, though, to see himself appearing in her drawings.
XI.
Axel finds the Replica again, after Naminé’s done with it. Larxene’s toy. Vexen’s failed science fair project. Axel didn’t think the little witch had it in her, to stop its heart as cold-blooded as that. He’d applaud her, if she were still there.
And then stay as far away from her as possible. Good thing she can’t actually kill someone without a heart.
He hoists the Replica and makes to drag it back to Vexen’s lab, when he feels its body move again. It’s been too long for death spasms, at this point, so what the hell?
That’s when he finds himself staring into aquamarine eyes, open, alive and pissed the fuck off.
In a flash, the Replica’s got its sword materialized in its hand. It only takes another half-second for Axel’s chakrams to join the party.
“Man,” he drawls. “Is that any way to treat your rescuer?”
“Who says I needed rescuing?” the Replica spits out.
“Oh? You mean you didn’t just clutch your chest and fall over dead? Sorry, my bad. Guess I’ll be on my way then.”
He can see the Replica begin to shake as it remembers. It gropes at its chest and all the color drains from its face.
“So you’re like us, now.” Axel can’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice, but there’s some vague sympathy in there, too. “Your own kind of Nobody.”
The Replica’s face is stone. “I’m nothing like you, you idiot.”
“Really? You can still feel?”
“Yes!” said with what the Replica must think is unshakeable conviction. Axel’s pretty sure he could shake it if he wanted to.
“What are you feeling right now?”
The Replica lunges at him. Axel parries the first blow and dodges the second. That barely leaves him the time to call his flames, boxing the two of them against a wall and tightening in. He doesn’t expect the Replica to grab his coat and drag him around, as a kind of makeshift shield. Of course, that means now Axel has it backed into a corner, quite literally.
He smirks. “Still think you’re Riku?”
The Replica’s got flames reflected in its eyes. “I’m nothing like that thing.”
It keeps saying that. Those exact words, like it hopes to paint a line between itself and the rest of the world, making it into something special in the process. Or at least something better.
“Could have fooled me.” He looks the Replica over, savoring its discomfort at their bodies’ close proximity. The Replica’s hand is still fisted in his collar, like it’s trying to prove it’s still in control.
Fire at his back; darkness in front. Axel can’t say he’s unhappy with the situation. “I can help you,” he says.
The Replica snorts. “Shut up,” it makes as though to push him away, but follows at the last second. Their mouths collide, teeth clicking. The Replica bites at him, trying to hurt. Trying to prove a point. Axel wants to slide his tongue in its mouth, but he’s pretty sure that’s one way to get it bitten off.
It’s glaring when they pull apart, but the glare’s slightly different from before. “I don’t need your help.”
“No strings, I swear,” Axel says. And hey, he’s not even lying, mostly. What he wants the Replica to do won’t hurt it any. Might even help, just like he said. “All you need are powers that he doesn’t have. Something all your own, which was never his.”
What he’s saying seems to resonate with the Replica. He can see it considering, every thought plain on its face. If it still had a heart, it could have huang it on its sleeve, like yet another lucky charm.
“Tell me,” it says, and Axel thinks, ‘yeah, you’re going to be useful.’
XII.
Roxas seems to have acquired a girlfriend while he was away. Axel wonders if his Other would have been jealous, in the same situation. As things are, he pokes the younger Nobody about it, until Roxas hits him over the head. He sits back, rubbing his bruises and grinning. “Roxas, you hound!”
Getting whacked hurts more the second time.
Xion herself is easy enough to like, though there are times when his eyes unfocus and he sees Roxas in her place. They’re certainly similar enough, but Axel can’t help thinking there’s more to it than that. What are the chances of two amnesiac Keyblade Masters meeting up here like this? It sounds like the beginning of a ‘walk into a bar’ joke.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Roxas snaps, after the fourth or fifth round of teasing.
“Oh? So does that mean I’m still in the running then?”
Roxas rolls his eyes. “Ask her, if you want.”
Wasn’t what Axel meant, but he can go with that, too.
Right on cue, it’s like Roxas has sensed the change in his expression. “Don’t you dare hurt her,” he says.
Axel flops back into his lap. “We’re Nobodies, silly. We can’t get hurt.”
“Yeah. Right.” Roxas lets out a slight huff, but doesn’t dislodge him.
The next time they go to Twilight Town, Xion is with them. Turns out Roxas’s been bringing her here while Axel was away on business. She still looks about her like it’s all new and magical.
“It’s because I don’t have memories,” she tells him later, when it’s just the two of them. “My life before this is gone. No getting it back. So I get a lot of living to make up for, and there is so much out there. Worlds, and people, and things to do.”
He ruffles her hair. “What say I take you to one of those?” Better to go together, before wanderlust gets the better of her and drags her into disaster.
She thinks for a moment, then nods.
He portals her to Destiny Islands. It’s a perverse, risky sort of move. No way he could bring Roxas here, and even without him, there’re probably still people they don’t want to run into.
She wades into the water, coat still on, though she’s taken off her shoes. The two of them must stand out like beacons, among the tropical population.
“If you drown, I’ll just point and laugh,” he warns her.
“No, you won’t,” she says. She’s probably right.
They find a little island all to themselves, with a sprawling fruit tree, large enough to climb and sit on. Axel picks a fruit and munches on it. It tastes mellow and sweet, not particularly memorable. When he offers one to Xion, he notices she’s staring off into space.
“Sorry,” she says, when he shakes her alert. “It’s just… I almost feel like I remember this place. Like if I close my eyes, I can see the three of us sitting here, laughing. You and Roxas and me. Do you think, maybe…”
Axel shakes his head. “Nah. I have my memories. Never met you till you were Org. You think I’d forget a face like yours, huh?”
And suddenly, he realizes just who she reminds him of. Roxas aside, though if he’s right, that makes much more sense, too. Sora’s a lot sweeter and dumber than her, but once he has the resemblance in his head, he can’t make himself let go of it.
This excursion has officially crossed the line from bad idea into ‘hope you enjoy being a Dusk.’
“We should get back,” he says.
Later, when he finds out she’s a replica, he cares a lot less than he thought he would.
XIII.
Roxas learns things so fast, sometimes Axel’s afraid he’s going to leave him behind. He’s a natural in the field, but that’s no surprise. More startling is the way his head gathers up the world around him, swirls it around and spits out something new. “Do you think we’ll still be us,” he asks, “once we get hearts?”
Axel stretches an arm behind his head. “How do you mean?”
“You’re different from your Other, right? He had a heart; you don’t. If you get your heart back, will you be different again? Like your Other, or like someone else altogether, but you won’t be yourself anymore, will you?”
Axel shrugs, an exaggerated, sweeping motion. “Everyone changes, whether we like it or not. You think it’s just hearts that do that?”
Roxas looks away. “You keep telling me it’s ok if I never remember who I used to be. That the person I am now, and the memories I make are what matters. But if I’m not going to be this person much longer, why should I bother making memories at all?
“And what if I don’t want to change? This me is the only one I’ve got.”
Axel sits down next to him, puts an arm around his shoulders. Gestures like that are instinctually comforting, even if you’re a Nobody. He didn’t think it would work with Roxas, since he has no past life to tell him it felt good, but maybe it goes deeper than that, ingrained into the very bones of the soul.
“I don’t want you to change, either,” Roxas says, barely audible.
Axel gives him a lopsided grin. “I thought you said I was annoying.”
“If I was really annoyed, I’d leave.” There are traces of sarcasm in Roxas’s voice, so subtle only someone who’d known him as long as Axel has would notice them.
“You would?”
“I can portal, can’t I?”
Axel isn’t sure why his arm tightens around Roxas when he says that. Roxas squirms loose in an instant. He’s never been big on being touched, though he’ll tolerate it from Axel. If he was any more comfortable with it, hell, Axel would have taken the kid to bed a long time ago.
Roxas looks up at his face, trying to find something there. A trace of reality, maybe.
“What do you want?” he asks.
Axel toys with several answers. “Oh, the usual. Money, power. You.”
Roxas’s expression doesn’t change. “And you couldn’t just say that, straight out?”
“Aww, but then it would be the only straight thing here. It might get lonely.”
“You’re an idiot,” Roxas says. His body is tense, like he’s on the verge of an attack or a decision.
Before Axel can respond with something suitably witty, Roxas is kissing him and the ground beneath his feet falls away. Roxas’s mouth is soft, but his approach isn’t. He bites down on Axel’s lower lip, tugs on it until Axel lets him in. One of his teeth is chipped – a remnant of Sora, probably. Axel runs his tongue over it, and Roxas makes a half-annoyed sound.
There are two coats between them, and that’s two coats too many. Axel reaches for Roxas’s zipper, only to have his wrists pinned down against the pillows. He nuzzles his way under the collar, instead, kissing the arch of Roxas’s throat. Roxas’s eyelids flutter shut in pleasure. He’s straddling Axel now, knees sinking a bit into the mattress while still keeping balance.
“What do you want?” Axel echoes the earlier question back at him.
“I want to know.” And that’s not vague or anything, but Axel can’t bring himself to mind. Right now, he thinks there’s nothing he won’t do for him.
Author's Notes/Ramblings
...And now you see why I went with 'multiple pairings' rather than listing everything.
The title comes from “The Scarlet Tide,” sung by Alison Krauss. The song in general has fuck-all to do with the fic, but that particular line fit. It’s also worth noting that my work-in-progress file for this fic was (and is) titled “Axel You Whore.”
I swear, the fact that this fic contains thirteen sections is just a coincidence, though what a happy coincidence it is.
As a random note, the section with the Replica was one of the hardest for me to write. Not because I found the Replica difficult to write, but because let's just say Axel and I had a pronoun disagreement. I feel empathy overload toward the Replica. At the point in time when they meet, Axel, uh, doesn't. It made a contrast to the following section, with Xion.
Title: Man Has No Choice When He Wants Everything
Author: Lily
Characters/Pairings: Axel, others. Multiple pairings, both slash and het.
Rating: Hard R, I'd say.
Spoilers: Chain of Memories and 358/2.
Warnings: Sex, some violence.
Summary: Occasionally, he remembers that he doesn’t have a heart anymore and waits for his chest to start hurting. It doesn’t.
Word Count: 4,827
I.
Axel’s first few days with the Organization are underwhelming. Xemnas’s grand plans wash right over him. It’s only when he turns and sees Saix listening raptly that his stomach flips the way it used to when his Other was scared. He attributes it to the fact that the only one of them who can cook worth a damn is currently buried in some obscure project and can’t be bothered.
Occasionally, he remembers that he doesn’t have a heart anymore and waits for his chest to start hurting. It doesn’t.
He and Saix don’t talk about their plans much. Neither of them has a good idea, yet, of who might be listening in and where. Apparently, the penalties for traitorous intent are pretty damn harsh.
In lieu of talking, he finds himself wanting to touch. It’s something their Others used to do. But when he kisses Saix, it just feels kind of empty and weird. Wet, and clumsier than it’s been since the two of them were barely more than kids.
Makes sense, he supposes. Kissing is more of an emotional thing than a physical one, and neither of them has that option anymore.
Despite this, he kind of thinks he might want to try again, when they pull apart. The look on Saix’s face won’t tell him whether he’s thinking the same thing. It bothers him. He’d known Isa well enough to practically read his mind, once, but he’s completely impassive now.
Well, whatever.
II.
Kissing may be a bust, but there are other options out there. He’s pretty sure fucking would be enough sensation to jolt him awake. Can’t fall asleep on the job, and some part of him believes that’s just what he’s going to do if he’s not careful. Like he’s going to fade back into the darkness, if he doesn’t concentrate on living hard enough.
He finds Xigbar in a deserted wing of the castle and thinks, why not? Xigbar is entertaining and less likely to read political connotations into the move than some of the others.
He’s the one who pulls Xigbar forward, so that the older Nobody is pressing him into the nearest wall. It’s a move that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’ The Organization is full of power plays, and it’s best to clear up the difference between wanting it up the ass and being someone else’s bitch.
Xigbar laughs himself sick when he gets it, which is damn near immediately. The feel of it vibrates through Axel’s body, making him want to purr. “You play an interesting game, kid,” Xigbar says, and proceeds to fuck the hell out of him, right against that wall.
Anyone could walk in on them, just like that, but the possibility is neither thrilling nor scary. There are no rules against it, and what are they going to do, stand there and offer suggestions?
III.
He’s talking out of his ass, trying to prove a point – to Xaldin, of all people – about squadron solidarity, and somewhere in there, he winds up throwing his arms around the nearest Assassin, for emphasis.
The Assassin’s spikes poke through his coat, piercing skin. It’s a shame, Axel thinks, that he can’t strip right here, to see if the stuff leaking out of him is blood or darkness.
It doesn’t hurt that much, for all that the Assassin is radiating concern and question marks through his mind. Xaldin still looks at him like he’s an idiot.
Later, when he checks, the cuts have already closed. He wipes off the light crusting of blood, already turned brown on him, and grins.
IV.
The thing about Demyx is that he puts way too much stock in kissing. Axel gets that habits die hard, but this is ridiculous. He imagines what Demyx must have been like when he was alive. A good boy, probably, or one of those bad boys who’s secretly soft, under a pathetically thin veneer of toughness. He claims to have been a rock star, but with the way he can barely even keep his sitar tuned, Axel’s not sure he believes him.
It’s still fun, singing off key to watch him cringe. He’s gotten Demyx to promise, once, that he’d do anything so long as Axel stopped killing his ears. Axel’s going to take him up on that, one of these days.
In the meantime, Axel knows how to be distracting when Demyx’s overtures get too sweet for his blood sugar. There’s a particular tendon on Demyx’s throat that makes him bliss out if Axel bites down on it, hard. Gotta give the guy credit: he knows how to feel good. The way he looks, when Axel’s fucking him, eyes hazed over, muscles bunching and releasing, sweaty clumps of hair falling into his eyes. It’s like his mind’s been blown out, and every cell in his body is thrumming with energy.
Axel kind of envies him that.
They lie around talking, afterward. Axel keeps his coat on, even if his pants have wound up somewhere under the bed. Mostly, they talk about the lack of girls in the Org and how much that sucks (and seriously, dude, Demyx says, what’s up with that? He knows women can be fuck-stubborn, so where are all the ladies at?)
Sometimes, they talk about the shitty missions they get assigned, because where’s the fun in those if you can’t bitch about them later. Like the one Axel got in The Land of Dragons, his first month with the Org. Axel likes the Land of Dragons just fine – its snowy mountains, on the other hand, can suck him. There were parts of that mission where he thought he was going to die, where he couldn’t take a breath because the air felt like ice in his lungs. Even covered with gloves, his hands hurt like a bitch. At least before they stopped hurting and numbed the fuck out.
He’d stuck them in hot water when he got back, cause he was a retard who came from a temperate world. That got feeling back into them, all right, and if he thought it’d hurt before…
Demyx generally manages to wiggle out of missions like that. Axel doesn’t want to know how, though the way he hits Axel’s personal liquor stash afterward is answer enough, in its own way.
And sometimes, very rarely, the conversation turns philosophical. “I know we don’t have physical hearts,” Demyx says, his hand resting on Axel’s chest. “But we can feel. I know it. I live with it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Axel says. “If you prick us, do we not bleed.” He remembers what feeling felt like, and it’s never happened to him once, in this half-life he’s woken to.
But Demyx insists, and what the hell, maybe he really does feel something. Maybe he’s just special; the fucking Messiah walking among unbelievers.
If that’s the case, Axel will take the unbeliever card and keep it.
V.
Sometimes, Saix still calls him ‘Lea.’ It feels weird, like a coat you outgrew years ago. He refuses to answer, until Saix’s voice tightens and he says ‘Axel’ with barely-concealed disdain.
He does wear his coat too tight, as a matter of fact, something Saix has called him suicidal for, at least once. Why would someone who depends on speed and arm movement want them hampered?
Truth is, Axel likes a challenge. The added difficulty keeps him on his toes, keeps him too smart to blow any fight off as ‘too easy.’ Those are always the ones that get you, in the end.
And if the tightness of the sleeves reminds him where his body is and what it’s doing, so much the better.
VI.
He remembers something Xigbar once told him:
“Your body isn’t human anymore. It can break, sure. But so long as it ain’t fatal, you can heal from it no matter what. A cut? Will be gone within an hour. Losing a finger? That could take longer to re-grow. A day, maybe two.
“No one I know’s ever been stupid enough to lose a whole limb, so I don’t know how long that’d take. …Say, you wanna volunteer? Give our scientists some awesome data.”
Axel flips him the bird, grinning. “How about if it’s my head?”
Xigbar ‘tsks’ at him. “Don’t ever lose your head,” he says. “You lose that, and you’re dead no matter what.” He seems almost serious when he says that.
“So, how about you?” Axel asks, pointing at the eyepatch.
“Oh, I got that badge of honor back in the bad old days.” He puts on a mysterious face, like he wants Axel to ask how, but Axel knows there won’t be a word of truth in whatever story he gets, except maybe ‘the.’
The bit about their bodies is true, though. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stranger. Nothing changes. Axel’s shaved his head, once, just to see if he could. The hair had grown back by next morning, looking just like it used to and begging for hairgel. It’s creepy, but a guy could start thinking he’s invincible, this way.
VII.
To say that Axel’s not thrilled about being forced to play nanny goat to the Superior’s precious Key of Destiny is putting it mildly. He’s got better things to do, and the blank look on XIII’s face tells him the kid’s wit and charm ain’t gonna get him through a conversation.
But a job’s a job, so Axel makes nice. An arm around the shoulders nearly earns him a Keyblade to the gut. It’s a close call: if he had a heart, it would be hammering now, glad to be alive. Instead, he laughs till he can’t breathe and offers the kid ice-cream.
“What’s ice-cream?” Roxas asks, totally serious.
It only hits Axel then what lacking memories does to one of them. It’s not like Roxas can’t talk. He knows what a chair is. He can get dressed or undressed on his own (and won’t appreciate offers to help with the latter.) But all non-essential concepts, those strongly related to emotions? Those are gone, along with his life history.
The thought makes Axel feel like he’d been Blizzagaed in the face. Not exactly something ice-cream’s going to help with, but he’s already put it on the menu, so.
He portals the two of them to Twilight Town, cause it’s close and he knows the route. It’s a pretty place, if a bit too rich and suburban for his blood.
“It’s where I’m from,” Roxas says.
“Where Xemnas found you?”
Roxas nods.
The local ice-cream’s funny-tasting. Salty, and not really Axel’s thing, but Roxas seems to like it fine.
Heh. Figures he’d take his charge off to lick a salty, phallic object on their first day out. If he told the others he hadn’t planned it, they’d never believe him. Hell, he probably would have planned it, if he’d had the info down.
Roxas’s eyes are closed, like he’s putting everything he has into memorizing the taste. He eats like a cat does, tongue occasionally darting out to lick, then darting back in. It’s a damn cute tongue.
The warmth of the ever-setting sun feels good on Axel’s face, makes him want to close his own eyes and bask. But then, he catches a glimpse of Roxas squinting up into the beams and he can’t look away.
The first time he sees an expression on Roxas’s face, he takes it as a personal accomplishment. That the expression is one of annoyance just makes it better.
VIII.
He’s neutral on the subject of fucking Larxene. Sure, he misses pussy, but he doesn’t miss it that much, and it’s not like she lets anyone other than Marluxia touch her, anyway. It’s other things about her that make her entertaining, like her nasty sense of humor, or the way she goes through the library almost as fast as he does.
And then, there’s her other hobby.
She doesn’t bother tying him down. Lightning’s good enough, coursing through his nerves and paralyzing him. The way he is, she could do anything to him right now, and that would worry him, if he hadn’t already given her the go-ahead to do just that.
She materializes her knives in her hands, like a wild cat stretching out its claws. That’s something Larxene’s got on the rest of them. The weapons she can manifest are infinite in number, or if they’re not she has yet to find their limit.
“You’re thinking,” she scolds, and slashes below his neck, less than an inch away from his artery. “I wonder,” she muses, “if I could carve my name into your chest. You’d have to wear it for the rest of the day, like a lover’s token.”
He thinks about names carved into trees, with hearts and arrows between them. Stupid, childish acts of affection.
“Too bad you don’t have any ‘I’s in your name,” he says. “Then you could dot ‘em with a heart.”
Larxene giggles, light and girlish. “Blame my mother. She’s the one who named me.” She goes to work, the knives sharp enough that he only feels pain moments after they’ve parted skin.
Axel reminds himself to keep his breaths even, keep a smirk on his lips and in his eyes.
He still can’t hold back a scream when she plunges a knife into his chest, right where his heart used to be.
She pouts, like he’d ruined her fun, like she doesn’t get off on the sound of screams. “What? It’s not like there’s anything vital in there.”
IX.
Marluxia’s different. He’s slow and deliberate, his eyes fixed on Axel’s every move and expression. The air’s scented with wisteria and sweat. Marluxia’s hands are almost gentle, belying the fact that it would probably take some effort for Axel to break free from his grip, if he wanted to.
He’s not about to try. It’s not what he’s here for. He wants evidence. Oh, Axel knows he won’t find it in Marluxia’s bed. He doubts Xemnas would buy ‘he kisses like a traitor.’ Hell, Xemnas won’t even pull the stick out of his ass long enough to get the joke. But this goes a way toward, if not getting Marluxia to trust him than at least getting him to accept Axel as a positive and amusing fixture at Castle Oblivion.
Marluxia wants to see him come apart, wants to crack him open, until he finds seeds of dissatisfaction with the way things currently are. He wants an ally and he wants someone he can possess, someone to lay claim to, in a way he can’t ever do with Larxene.
Axel can give him that. For a time.
He stretches out and closes his eyes, a picture of aroused contentment, and feels Marluxia smile against his neck. Vines replace Marluxia’s grip on his wrists, dragging his arms out and to the bedposts. His legs remain free, the better for Marluxia to maneuver.
Axel has never met anyone who took as much time and care with touch as Marluxia. Every point of contact is fraught with meaning, calculated to the last iota. He wants Axel gasping for release before he even fully joins the action, and he pretty much gets what he wants.
He’s not nearly so gentle when he finally presses inside, thrusting in hard and rough, and fuck, Axel likes that, he likes it almost too much. He gasps, hands scrambling at the vines, and for once, he’s no longer sure what expression his face is wearing. Whatever it is, Marluxia seems happy enough with it, though. When Axel slits his eyes open just enough to check, the look he sees on Marluxia’s own face is triumphant.
It takes Axel a moment to recover, after the vines have let go of him, and in that moment, he finds Marluxia sprawled over him, almost casual. An arm draped over his chest, hand on his far shoulder. Axel’s never taken the guy for a cuddler – still doesn’t. No, this is yet another gambit on XI’s part. He’s seeing how far he can push Axel. And it’s not that Axel hasn’t faked a good number of things in his unlife, but something about this enforced imitation of intimacy bothers him more than the rest of it, even the vulnerability of being pinned down.
He could portal now. ‘Go ahead,’ Marluxia’s actions seem to be daring him. But to do that would be to lose all the advantage he has. Instead, he has a little talk with his muscles, forces them to relax with an act of will. Closes his eyes and adds faking sleep to the grand old list of his acting accomplishments.
X.
He’s never so much as laid a hand on Naminé, not once. Big blue eyes may be his thing, but not if they’re on a scared little girl. He wonders why the hell she doesn’t just portal outta that stupid room of hers. She can do that, right?
Either she can’t, or Marluxia’s got her so brainwashed she doesn’t consider escape. Little bird’s got her wings clipped, even with the cage door open. Creeps the fuck out of Axel. How does someone that weak-willed get to call herself a Nobody?
He’s pretty flattered, though, to see himself appearing in her drawings.
XI.
Axel finds the Replica again, after Naminé’s done with it. Larxene’s toy. Vexen’s failed science fair project. Axel didn’t think the little witch had it in her, to stop its heart as cold-blooded as that. He’d applaud her, if she were still there.
And then stay as far away from her as possible. Good thing she can’t actually kill someone without a heart.
He hoists the Replica and makes to drag it back to Vexen’s lab, when he feels its body move again. It’s been too long for death spasms, at this point, so what the hell?
That’s when he finds himself staring into aquamarine eyes, open, alive and pissed the fuck off.
In a flash, the Replica’s got its sword materialized in its hand. It only takes another half-second for Axel’s chakrams to join the party.
“Man,” he drawls. “Is that any way to treat your rescuer?”
“Who says I needed rescuing?” the Replica spits out.
“Oh? You mean you didn’t just clutch your chest and fall over dead? Sorry, my bad. Guess I’ll be on my way then.”
He can see the Replica begin to shake as it remembers. It gropes at its chest and all the color drains from its face.
“So you’re like us, now.” Axel can’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice, but there’s some vague sympathy in there, too. “Your own kind of Nobody.”
The Replica’s face is stone. “I’m nothing like you, you idiot.”
“Really? You can still feel?”
“Yes!” said with what the Replica must think is unshakeable conviction. Axel’s pretty sure he could shake it if he wanted to.
“What are you feeling right now?”
The Replica lunges at him. Axel parries the first blow and dodges the second. That barely leaves him the time to call his flames, boxing the two of them against a wall and tightening in. He doesn’t expect the Replica to grab his coat and drag him around, as a kind of makeshift shield. Of course, that means now Axel has it backed into a corner, quite literally.
He smirks. “Still think you’re Riku?”
The Replica’s got flames reflected in its eyes. “I’m nothing like that thing.”
It keeps saying that. Those exact words, like it hopes to paint a line between itself and the rest of the world, making it into something special in the process. Or at least something better.
“Could have fooled me.” He looks the Replica over, savoring its discomfort at their bodies’ close proximity. The Replica’s hand is still fisted in his collar, like it’s trying to prove it’s still in control.
Fire at his back; darkness in front. Axel can’t say he’s unhappy with the situation. “I can help you,” he says.
The Replica snorts. “Shut up,” it makes as though to push him away, but follows at the last second. Their mouths collide, teeth clicking. The Replica bites at him, trying to hurt. Trying to prove a point. Axel wants to slide his tongue in its mouth, but he’s pretty sure that’s one way to get it bitten off.
It’s glaring when they pull apart, but the glare’s slightly different from before. “I don’t need your help.”
“No strings, I swear,” Axel says. And hey, he’s not even lying, mostly. What he wants the Replica to do won’t hurt it any. Might even help, just like he said. “All you need are powers that he doesn’t have. Something all your own, which was never his.”
What he’s saying seems to resonate with the Replica. He can see it considering, every thought plain on its face. If it still had a heart, it could have huang it on its sleeve, like yet another lucky charm.
“Tell me,” it says, and Axel thinks, ‘yeah, you’re going to be useful.’
XII.
Roxas seems to have acquired a girlfriend while he was away. Axel wonders if his Other would have been jealous, in the same situation. As things are, he pokes the younger Nobody about it, until Roxas hits him over the head. He sits back, rubbing his bruises and grinning. “Roxas, you hound!”
Getting whacked hurts more the second time.
Xion herself is easy enough to like, though there are times when his eyes unfocus and he sees Roxas in her place. They’re certainly similar enough, but Axel can’t help thinking there’s more to it than that. What are the chances of two amnesiac Keyblade Masters meeting up here like this? It sounds like the beginning of a ‘walk into a bar’ joke.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Roxas snaps, after the fourth or fifth round of teasing.
“Oh? So does that mean I’m still in the running then?”
Roxas rolls his eyes. “Ask her, if you want.”
Wasn’t what Axel meant, but he can go with that, too.
Right on cue, it’s like Roxas has sensed the change in his expression. “Don’t you dare hurt her,” he says.
Axel flops back into his lap. “We’re Nobodies, silly. We can’t get hurt.”
“Yeah. Right.” Roxas lets out a slight huff, but doesn’t dislodge him.
The next time they go to Twilight Town, Xion is with them. Turns out Roxas’s been bringing her here while Axel was away on business. She still looks about her like it’s all new and magical.
“It’s because I don’t have memories,” she tells him later, when it’s just the two of them. “My life before this is gone. No getting it back. So I get a lot of living to make up for, and there is so much out there. Worlds, and people, and things to do.”
He ruffles her hair. “What say I take you to one of those?” Better to go together, before wanderlust gets the better of her and drags her into disaster.
She thinks for a moment, then nods.
He portals her to Destiny Islands. It’s a perverse, risky sort of move. No way he could bring Roxas here, and even without him, there’re probably still people they don’t want to run into.
She wades into the water, coat still on, though she’s taken off her shoes. The two of them must stand out like beacons, among the tropical population.
“If you drown, I’ll just point and laugh,” he warns her.
“No, you won’t,” she says. She’s probably right.
They find a little island all to themselves, with a sprawling fruit tree, large enough to climb and sit on. Axel picks a fruit and munches on it. It tastes mellow and sweet, not particularly memorable. When he offers one to Xion, he notices she’s staring off into space.
“Sorry,” she says, when he shakes her alert. “It’s just… I almost feel like I remember this place. Like if I close my eyes, I can see the three of us sitting here, laughing. You and Roxas and me. Do you think, maybe…”
Axel shakes his head. “Nah. I have my memories. Never met you till you were Org. You think I’d forget a face like yours, huh?”
And suddenly, he realizes just who she reminds him of. Roxas aside, though if he’s right, that makes much more sense, too. Sora’s a lot sweeter and dumber than her, but once he has the resemblance in his head, he can’t make himself let go of it.
This excursion has officially crossed the line from bad idea into ‘hope you enjoy being a Dusk.’
“We should get back,” he says.
Later, when he finds out she’s a replica, he cares a lot less than he thought he would.
XIII.
Roxas learns things so fast, sometimes Axel’s afraid he’s going to leave him behind. He’s a natural in the field, but that’s no surprise. More startling is the way his head gathers up the world around him, swirls it around and spits out something new. “Do you think we’ll still be us,” he asks, “once we get hearts?”
Axel stretches an arm behind his head. “How do you mean?”
“You’re different from your Other, right? He had a heart; you don’t. If you get your heart back, will you be different again? Like your Other, or like someone else altogether, but you won’t be yourself anymore, will you?”
Axel shrugs, an exaggerated, sweeping motion. “Everyone changes, whether we like it or not. You think it’s just hearts that do that?”
Roxas looks away. “You keep telling me it’s ok if I never remember who I used to be. That the person I am now, and the memories I make are what matters. But if I’m not going to be this person much longer, why should I bother making memories at all?
“And what if I don’t want to change? This me is the only one I’ve got.”
Axel sits down next to him, puts an arm around his shoulders. Gestures like that are instinctually comforting, even if you’re a Nobody. He didn’t think it would work with Roxas, since he has no past life to tell him it felt good, but maybe it goes deeper than that, ingrained into the very bones of the soul.
“I don’t want you to change, either,” Roxas says, barely audible.
Axel gives him a lopsided grin. “I thought you said I was annoying.”
“If I was really annoyed, I’d leave.” There are traces of sarcasm in Roxas’s voice, so subtle only someone who’d known him as long as Axel has would notice them.
“You would?”
“I can portal, can’t I?”
Axel isn’t sure why his arm tightens around Roxas when he says that. Roxas squirms loose in an instant. He’s never been big on being touched, though he’ll tolerate it from Axel. If he was any more comfortable with it, hell, Axel would have taken the kid to bed a long time ago.
Roxas looks up at his face, trying to find something there. A trace of reality, maybe.
“What do you want?” he asks.
Axel toys with several answers. “Oh, the usual. Money, power. You.”
Roxas’s expression doesn’t change. “And you couldn’t just say that, straight out?”
“Aww, but then it would be the only straight thing here. It might get lonely.”
“You’re an idiot,” Roxas says. His body is tense, like he’s on the verge of an attack or a decision.
Before Axel can respond with something suitably witty, Roxas is kissing him and the ground beneath his feet falls away. Roxas’s mouth is soft, but his approach isn’t. He bites down on Axel’s lower lip, tugs on it until Axel lets him in. One of his teeth is chipped – a remnant of Sora, probably. Axel runs his tongue over it, and Roxas makes a half-annoyed sound.
There are two coats between them, and that’s two coats too many. Axel reaches for Roxas’s zipper, only to have his wrists pinned down against the pillows. He nuzzles his way under the collar, instead, kissing the arch of Roxas’s throat. Roxas’s eyelids flutter shut in pleasure. He’s straddling Axel now, knees sinking a bit into the mattress while still keeping balance.
“What do you want?” Axel echoes the earlier question back at him.
“I want to know.” And that’s not vague or anything, but Axel can’t bring himself to mind. Right now, he thinks there’s nothing he won’t do for him.
Author's Notes/Ramblings
...And now you see why I went with 'multiple pairings' rather than listing everything.
The title comes from “The Scarlet Tide,” sung by Alison Krauss. The song in general has fuck-all to do with the fic, but that particular line fit. It’s also worth noting that my work-in-progress file for this fic was (and is) titled “Axel You Whore.”
I swear, the fact that this fic contains thirteen sections is just a coincidence, though what a happy coincidence it is.
As a random note, the section with the Replica was one of the hardest for me to write. Not because I found the Replica difficult to write, but because let's just say Axel and I had a pronoun disagreement. I feel empathy overload toward the Replica. At the point in time when they meet, Axel, uh, doesn't. It made a contrast to the following section, with Xion.
