Warnings: Boylove and fluff

Disclaimer: Dammit, if I owned Kingdom Hearts do you think Demyx would have died!? NO!

Notes: GASP! Is this fluff you spy on my page? Is it, dare I say, not ANGST? Have I stopped torturing Demyx to give in to crack and humor? Hell no. I just had so much in the little bubble universe of Crawling Towards the Sun that I just had to visit it again. This will, hopefully, be the first in a series of drabbles with all characters and pairings.

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Love drives people to crazy things. Sometimes people in love shout from rooftops or elope in Las Vegas or succumb to other mad ideas. Love is the kind of thing that drives a man to extremes the likes of which he has never before known. It’s a terrifyingly uncontrollable force and there’s just no stopping a man in love.

And love, that crazy, terrible, uncontrollable thing, was why Zexion was standing in front of Demyx’s house at 9 PM with a thermos full of Sora’s Super Special Phoenix Down Noodle Soup and backpack full of books he had…borrowed from work. “Borrowed” in this context meaning too embarrassing to actually go to the librarian and check out and thus furtively stuffed into a backpack while everyone else on staff was on break. Sometimes, it was just better to keep one’s private life just that and remove unnecessary complications, such as the derisive laughter that Xemnas would have undoubtedly added at such an instance.

Armed with soup and backpack, Zexion knocked on the door and watched it swing open to reveal Demyx’s little sister, Yuna, wearing her favorite t-shirt (proudly claiming “I can kick your ass at Halo 2”) and a medical mask.

“Demyx is diseased,” she explained. “If you come in, you’ll get diseased too.”

“It’s a risk I’ll just have to take,” Zexion said gravely, wondering if the mask was really necessary or if Yuna was just being melodramatic and twelve years old. She shrugged and made a little noise as if to say ‘it’s your funeral’ and let him enter, not bothering to point out the direction of Demyx’s bedroom. She knew full well that Zexion could, at the very least, find that.

Intrepidly, Zexion opened the door to find his boyfriend sprawled across the bed that was doubling as a diorama of a Himalayan mountain range with wadded up tissues to act as snowy mountaintops. Demyx groaned piteously at the sudden light and then smiled when he realized the intruder was Zexion and not his little sister attempting to cure him with a good ass kicking on Gunner’s Gauntlet. “You’ve come to save me!” he cried, before sneezing messily into a tissue. “Ew,” he groaned.

“I think you need this,” Zexion decided, forcing the thermos into Demyx’s hand. “It’s Sora’s. He says it’ll cure anything except cancer. Just don’t ask what’s in it.”

“There aren’t any chocobos missing in his neighborhood are there?”

“I would certainly hope not.” Then Zexion swung his backpack off his shoulders and dumped out its contents over Demyx’s lap, revealing at least a dozen paperback romances.

“You know,” Demyx said, taking in the trashy novels that now littered his bed, “the soup I could understand. This…not so much.”

“I think they’ll make you feel better. Laughter is the best medicine, or so they say.” Zexion picked up a slim volume and read the title, “The Sicilian’s Bride. Summary: Wild woman Vittoria Precipini would be tamed by no man until the equally untamable Massimo blew into town on a rogue wind. Will she give up her wild ways for a love as unstable as the wind that guides him?” His reading was dry, barely containing his obvious amusement at the ludicrousness of the book. Demyx, however, started to chuckle before handing Zexion the next book from his pile.

“Nice choice,” Zexion agreed, turning the book over for the summary. “When Greek tycoon Dionysius Hatzilakos finds himself blinded, he has no choice but to surrender himself to Angelica, his sultry new nurse. Will he let himself give into her physical charms if going to her bed means giving her control?” Demyx leaned over across his tissue mountain range to grab Zexion for support as he giggled.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Demyx gasped through the increasingly uncontrollable laughter. “Where did you find this crap?”

Zexion kissed Demyx’s temple and mussed his hair before explaining, “We have quite a few of these at work. I suppose people must find it somewhat less embarrassing to check out romance novels from the library than to buy them at the drugstore. Drink your soup. Now,” he reached for the next novel, “The Viscount’s Redemption or The Scarlet Woman’s Encounter?”