(A/N): My little contribution for Zemyx day. Pretty much PWP, but we don't mind those, right? Right.

Disclaimer: Now, if I owned these characters, there would've been scenes like this in the game. Honestly.

Dedicated to the One I Love

Zexion stared down at the frozen treat in his hand, trying to keep his puzzlement from manifesting on his brow. Demyx was staring at him expectantly, a small, hopeful smile on his face. Avoiding the sitarist's eyes, Zexion wracked his brain for any reason Demyx might have felt the need to press a bar of sea salt ice cream into his hands.


Demyx was rocking back on his heels, his head cocked to the side as he regarded Zexion with bright eyes. Still feeling lost, Zexion brought the blue ice cream to his lips and bit off a small piece. "It's…salty," he offered, trying to keep from frowning at the taste. Demyx smiled, but his shoulders drooped as he scratched sheepishly at the back of his head.

"Yeah," he muttered, eyes sweeping to the side. "Guess you're not much for sweets. Sorry." He laughed a little, and Zexion frowned at the shadow in the blond's eyes.

"What's wrong, Demyx?" he asked cautiously, setting the ice cream aside as he stepped forward and tried to get the Melodious Nocturne to look at him. Demyx glanced at him, a soft smile sweeping across his face before he shrugged, taking a small step back.

"Nothing. Forget about it, Zexion. Really." With one last smile, he turned and swept away from the Schemer, leaving Zexion with the suspicion that he had missed something very important.

Zexion felt an echo of what might be irritation as Axel passed through his peripheral vision for the fourth time; raising his eyes from the book he was reading, he pinned the Flurry of Dancing Flames with a scowl. "Number VIII – stop that this instant or I'll have Xemnas turn you into a Dusk." Axel stopped and stared in at him from the hall, expression blank. Zexion frowned at him before he turned his attention back to his book.

"What's wrong with you?"

Zexion glanced up to find the Flurry of Dancing Flames in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Zexion's frown deepened. "If you're looking for Number XIII, he's out on a mission with Demyx," Zexion said, words clipped. Axel's eyes narrowed.

"You didn't answer me, Zexion," he pointed out blandly, and if Zexion had a heart it might've sunk at the crooked smile that spread across the redhead's lips.

"Because it's not your concern." Axel cocked his head to the side as he took a step into the room.

"And you're downright snappish," he muttered, almost to himself. "You're always a cold son of a bitch, Zexion, but you don't usually lash out for no reason." Zexion's fingers tightened around the book clutched in his hands.

"You are dangerously close to insubordination, Number VIII," he said quietly. "If you don't want to spend the rest of your unlife convinced you're an eight-year-old girl, I suggest you leave now." Instead of complying, Axel took another step into the room, gesturing at the couch adjacent to the Schemer's chair.

"Can I sit without incurring your wrath?" he drawled, lips curling up in a smirk. Zexion glared at him, feeling the darkness swirl up around him – Axel faltered a little before he strode forward and threw himself down on the couch with an arrogant sneer. Zexion stood deliberately, face carefully blank.

Before either of them could react, Demyx and Roxas stepped out of the darkness, the younger Nobody rolling his eyes at whatever Demyx had just finished saying. Laughing, Demyx flicked his hair out of his eyes, his laughter faltering and fading away when his eyes fell on Axel and Zexion. "What are you doing?" he asked softly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Zexion's expression. Zexion quickly schooled his features into a neutral expression, but Demyx continued to stare at him.

Roxas glanced piercingly at each of them before he moved forward, dragging Axel off of the couch. "You," he growled, tangling a fist in the redhead's collar, "what did you do?" Ignoring Axel's indignant yelp, he dragged the Flurry of Dancing Flames from the room, and Zexion could heard the hapless redhead protesting his innocence as their footsteps faded down the hall.

"What were you doing?"

Zexion dragged his attention back to Demyx – the sitarist was regarding him with a frown, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Zexion's eyes narrowed before he flicked his gaze away and bent to retrieve his book, which had fallen to the floor. "Axel was being difficult," he murmured. He glanced up when he heard Demyx striding forward – the Melodious Nocturne came to stand right in front of him, expression twisted in what might have been anger.

"You were going to fight him." It was a statement, not a question, but Zexion only scowled and tried to step around Demyx.

"It doesn't concern you, Number IX."

He didn't expect the hand that grabbed him and spun him back around to face the younger Nobody, or the glitter of what should have been emotion in Demyx's eyes. "What's wrong with you?" Demyx demanded, voice tight. Zexion didn't answer, and Demyx ducked his head as his fingers tightened around the Schemer's upper arms. "You've been strange lately, Zexion," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"

Zexion blinked. He hadn't thought his behavior had been erratic of late, but Axel's words echoed in his mind as he stared at the top of Demyx's head. "Let go, Demyx." Demyx released him without a word, taking a small step away from him. Zexion reached out and caught the sitarist's chin in one hand, waiting until Demyx met his gaze.

"Why did you bring me ice cream?" he asked quietly. Demyx's eyes widened before he shrugged, letting his gaze drift from Zexion's face.

"It was stupid," he muttered. "Don't worry about it." Zexion's fingers tightened marginally, and Demyx's eyes snapped back to his face. Frowning, the sitarist brought a hand up and tried to peel Zexion's fingers from his skin. "Really, Zexion, just forget it."


Demyx huffed and crossed his arms, jerking his chin out of Zexion's grasp. "It's something Somebodies do," he muttered, refusing to meet the Schemer's eyes. "They give a gift to a loved one."

"We can't love," Zexion corrected automatically; internally, his mind was in turmoil, and the space his heart should've taken twisted a little at the way Demyx flinched at his words.

"I know that," Demyx snapped irritably. "I told you to forget it." He began to turn away, stiffening at the hand Zexion laid against his shoulder, but he didn't resist when Zexion pulled him back around to face him.

"You got me a present," Zexion murmured, tilting his head to the side as he studied the way Demyx was gnawing on his lower lip. Demyx flushed and glanced away, heel tapping against the floor in a nervous rhythm.

"It's not that big a deal," Demyx muttered, glancing back at Zexion's face when the Schemer's hand tightened around his shoulder. His eyes widened at the small smile that flickered across Zexion's lips.

"Yes," Zexion said softly, "it is." Wrapping his hand around Demyx's neck, he pulled the blond forward for a gentle kiss, grunting in surprise when the sitarist wrapped his arms around Zexion's neck and reciprocated aggressively, darting his tongue out to trace the lines of Zexion's lips until the Schemer opened his mouth to him.

Pulling Demyx closer to him, Zexion wrapped one arm around the blond's waist, resting his hand against the small of Demyx's back and pressing their hips together. Demyx moaned appreciatively and pushed him against the wall, his fingers fumbling with the zipper to Zexion's coat.

They broke apart for air, gasping for breath, and Zexion couldn't help the grin that worked its way across his face. "I didn't get you anything," he murmured, nudging his nose against Demyx's neck. He felt Demyx laugh before the blond's mouth descended on his again.

"I think," he murmured between kisses, wrestling the Schemer out of his jacket, "that I can make do with what I have." Zexion couldn't answer, as Demyx had wrapped his tongue around Zexion's own, but he peeled his gloves off before working his hands under the sitarist's shirt, gliding them over the smooth expanse of Demyx's stomach before they dropped to tug insistently at the blond's pants.

Demyx broke away with a groan, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it blindly to the side, littering Zexion's mouth and jaw with hungry kisses as his fingers worked at the suddenly stubborn button to Zexion's pants. Biting back his impatience, Zexion let his hands fall to cover Demyx's own, helping the blond undo his pants, hissing when Demyx's hand immediately moved down to stroke him. The sitarist smiled against Zexion's lips as he wrapped his fingers around him, pressing Zexion into the wall as he began to pump his hand.

Letting his head fall back, Zexion stared at the ceiling as Demyx latched onto his throat, sucking fiercely. Zexion couldn't help the way his hips jerked forward, and he almost didn't recognize the broken cry that filled the room as his own. "Demyx…"

Demyx pulled back, pulling Zexion toward the couch – the Schemer allowed himself to be led blindly, head striking the armrest he stumbled backward. "Sorry," Demyx murmured, dragging Zexion's pants off. "Are you okay?" Zexion nodded dazedly.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, managing to lift an eyebrow as Demyx kicked his own pants away and moved to straddle the slate-haired man. Demyx paused, grinning down at him before he bent and landed an almost chaste kiss against Zexion's lips.

"You don't like ice cream, do you?" he asked softly, but before Zexion could answer, Demyx was settling down over him, gasping as he took Zexion into himself. He paused when he was fully seated, his entire body taut, but he blew out a breath of air and smiled at Zexion's expression before he nodded. "Okay."

Biting his lip, Zexion took hold of the blond's hips and lifted him gently, holding him there until Demyx smiled before he brought him back down. Demyx gasped softly before he planted his hands on Zexion's chest and began to move, letting his head fall back and his eyes close as they fell into rhythm. His quiet gasps and groans filled Zexion's ears like music, rising in pitch and frequency until he was screaming Zexion's name, and all Zexion could do was hoarsely groan Demyx's in reply.

Demyx rose to his knees, allowing Zexion to slip out of him before he collapsed on top of the Schemer, nuzzling his nose against Zexion's neck as he wrapped his arms around his chest. "Would you love me?" he asked quietly, and Zexion could hear the smile in his voice. "Would you love me if you could?" Zexion considered the question, running his hand over Demyx's damp hair.

"Yes," he responded at last, hugging the sitarist closer to him. "Yes, I think I would."