(A/N): Wow, how to explain this one? Well, actually it's quite simple: Nijuuni over on deviantART drew this amazing picture that got stuck in my head and rattled around until it spawned this fic. So pretty much any and all credit for this fic goes to her. Hope it doesn't disappoint. (The picture in question is 'Just Isn't My Day' - go check it out.)
Disclaimer: I didn't even come up with the idea this time.
Above All Things
Roxas glared at his pen, which had just leaked ink all over the report it had taken him all day to complete. He'd only needed to sign it, for fuck's sake. Was that too much to ask? "Shit," he hissed again, slamming the pen back down onto the desk for good measure. The entire damn day had been like this – accident after catastrophe after mishap. His stapler had jammed. The coffee in the break room had tasted like shit, and the vending machine had eaten his last dollar bill. All he'd wanted to do was sign his report, file it, and go home and try to forget that Friday the thirteenth even existed.
"I hate you," he muttered vindictively at the traitorous pen, tearing his hands through his hair as he surveyed the mess it had created.
Roxas spun around to face the door, hating the way his pulse spiked. "Fine, thanks," he got out, gritting his teeth and hoping that the man didn't pick up on the slight waver in his voice. This was really the last thing he needed right now.
One thin eyebrow arched as Axel's eyes traveled from Roxas's face to the mess still spreading over his desk. "Yeah, it looks like you're fine," he scoffed, stepping into the room.
"No, really, you go ahead," Roxas said, desperate to get the man out of his office. "I was just gonna clean it up and go home." Axel ignored him, leaving the doorway and heading for the desk. Roxas circled around it as he approached, trying to keep the ink-stained length of teak wood between them. Clearing his throat, he straightened some envelopes that didn't need straightening to avoid looking at the redhead. "What are you doing here so late anyway?"
Axel shrugged, picking up the leaky pen and holding it away from his body with his thumb and forefinger. "Working late." Green eyes flashed briefly in the dying light streaming through the office window as he raised his head to meet Roxas's gaze. "What about you?"
Roxas dropped his eyes back to the envelopes he was shuffling through for the third time and muttered something unintelligible, fervently wishing he'd taken Olette's advice and started spending less time at the office. Olette. Oh God, she probably had dinner waiting for him and was beginning to wonder where he was right about now.
"You sure you're okay?"
Roxas jerked back at the voice, scattering the envelopes across the face of the desk. When he reached for them, he barked his thigh against the edge of the desk, upsetting the cup of shitty coffee that had been cooling on the corner for the last two hours. Shit. Shit.
"Fine," Roxas seethed, brushing the envelopes back into a messy pile. "I'm fine, thank you."
Axel was watching him across the desk, but Roxas pretended he was oblivious to the man's gaze. All he had to do was let the redhead help him clean up this mess and then he could escape to his safe, comfortable house and his safe, comfortable wife. With a grim sort of concentration, he picked up the stack of envelopes – now soggy and discolored – and tapped them smartly against the desk.
And suddenly Axel was no longer watching him from across the desk, he was right beside him, towering over him really, which only served to fluster and annoy Roxas more. He hated the fact that the redhead was so much taller than he was. Still, he put as much ice into his gaze as he could when he finally met the other man's eyes. "What?"
"Nothing," Roxas said dismissively, trying to turn away from the redhead.
"Bullshit," Axel growled, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, spinning the blond around back to face him. "What the fuck is your problem lately?!"
Roxas smacked the man's hand off his shoulder and glared up at him. "I don't know what you're talking about." Axel gaped at him for a moment before his brows began to draw together in a thunderous scowl.
"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, voice low and somehow ominous. Roxas stared back silently, crossing his arms over his chest. "No. Fucking no, Roxas. Don't you pull that shit on me now."
"I have to go," Roxas grumbled, trying to brush past the man. Axel's arm shot out and he caught Roxas's forearm in a tight grip. "Let go, Ax –" Before Roxas could finish his sentence, Axel had pushed him against the edge of the desk and pressed his lips insistently against Roxas's. Roxas's eyes widened. Oh. Shit.
Axel pulled back when Roxas didn't respond, his fingers digging further into the blond's arms as he glared down at him. "You fucking asshole." Roxas only stared back, head spinning, wondering when exactly things had gotten so out of hand.
It had all started innocently enough. Six months ago, Axel had been transferred in from the company's Hollow Bastion branch; he'd been someone new and different, a rarity in Twilight Town. He and Roxas had hit it off almost right away, and the two were soon inseparable. And when Roxas had caught himself staring at the man, or sneaking glances at him out of the corner of his eye during meetings, or finding reasons to drop by his office during the workday, he'd passed those incidents off as stranger facets of their friendship – after all, Roxas wasn't gay. He was married, for fuck's sake. Besides, things like that didn't happen in Twilight Town. No, in Twilight Town you married your high-school sweetheart, you had your two and a half kids, and you brought them up to follow Yevon's teachings. You did not cheat on your wife with your best friend. Especially not with your male best friend.
And so he might have gone on thinking forever, but for one thing: Axel had begun to notice his attentions. And to reciprocate in kind. Which, needless to say, wasn't supposed to have happened. For the past few weeks, Roxas had been avoiding the redhead in an effort to figure out what he was supposed to do next.
Which apparently hadn't set well with Axel. Roxas was snapped back to the present when Axel's lips descended on his again and the redhead slipped a knee between Roxas's legs, pressing it up underneath his groin. Roxas opened his mouth to object – really, there couldn't be any other reason for opening his mouth in such a situation – but Axel pressed forward, slipping his tongue into Roxas's mouth and all that came out was a garbled moan.
Axel slid his arms down around Roxas's waist, tugging impatiently at Roxas's shirt and pressing their hips together. Roxas grunted and tore his mouth away from Axel's, putting his hands against the redhead's chest and trying to push him away. "Axel, stop!"
Axel only pushed him back up onto the desk, eyes narrowed. "Why?" he demanded, batting Roxas's hands away and climbing on top of him, tangling one hand painfully in Roxas's hair as he kissed him again. Roxas moaned and arched against him – only because the coffee was cold against his back, he'd never be able to explain those stains to Olette – and reached out in a desperate search for something to hold onto. His fingers grazed the silver-framed photo of himself and Olette he kept on his desk (his sister Namine had been her maid of honor at the wedding, he remembered with a touch of hysteria) and it fell to the floor, the glass shattering into a million glittering pieces.
Axel's hands were everywhere – unbuttoning Roxas's shirt and pushing it open, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and –
Roxas arched into Axel's hand, tangling one hand in the man's hair and clinging to the back of his shirt with his other. His wedding ring glinted at him over Axel's shoulder, but Roxas only closed his eyes and concentrated on the way Axel's tongue was sliding against his.
Axel reached down and flicked his own pants open, pushing his hips down against Roxas's. Roxas was barely aware of his pants and underwear being stripped away from him, was barely aware of anything until he felt Axel's probing fingers working their way back up his thighs. God, he needed to stop this, but when he opened his mouth all he could gasp out was "Axel." Then the redhead's spit-slicked fingers were inside him, scissoring him open, and Roxas forgot to say anything.
The next minutes jumped in and out of focus. Axel was suddenly back on top of him, was suddenly inside him and Roxas couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, and there was nothing else to hold on to so he clung to Axel, lifting his hips to meet the redhead's thrusts. Axel's breath was warm in his ear and the coffee cup was rattling violently against the desk, jittering closer and closer to the edge, and then it, too, fell to the floor and shattered into shards that Roxas would have to be careful not to let cut him when he cleaned them up. Axel was whispering something over and over again, voice hoarse, but Roxas didn't want to hear it because this couldn't be allowed to be real.
And as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Axel remained on top of him, cushioning his head on Roxas's shoulder. Roxas disentangled his fingers from his friend's hair and let his hand fall back to the desk. The only thing he seemed able to think about was how much he hurt, and how late he was for dinner – and how the hell he'd be able to explain his lateness to Olette.
Axel sighed and rolled off of him, keeping his back to Roxas as he zipped his pants up. Staring at Axel's back, a line from the priest at his and Olette's wedding ran through Roxas's mind. The priest had cautioned them to be vigilant in their vows to one another: "For the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"
A humorless smile split Roxas's face; Axel raised an eyebrow when he turned and saw the blond's expression, but Roxas only closed his eyes and laid his head back against the desk.