A/N: Hurray for Author-Alert spam? Ok-ee, doke-ee. Alright. HI EVERYONE. Am taking a leaf out of kurosora1984's book and posting up my song-meme drabbles from dA. This is partially my, 'Hey, look, I'm still alive!' contribution, and also the old 'lookee-me-do' distraction, since the oneshot I promised isn't ready yet. Once my brain gets back from the cleaners, I'm sure it'll be ready in no time :D If you're not aware of it yet, I burned out, put stuff of hiatus, etc, et al, ad nauseum, and details can be found on my profile. I also have just realised that I'm going to have to go through the forty-one pages already done of Tchoi and double fucking space between all paragraphs, since SOMEONE had a makeover since the last time I posted anything, and that SOMEONE desires double spacing ON TOP of double spacing, otherwise it's all crammed TOGETHER. Wow. I love improvements. FUCKING ACE, FFNET! /crazed thumbs-up, of the middle-eastern variety/

Disclaimer: Not I, Mister Wolf. There'd be far more people getting shot if I owned Kingdom Hearts :D And key-blade'd. With lasting consequences, none of this 'PG' bullshit.

Warnings: Sap, crap, sappy crap, and some months-old drabbles. Doesn't it sound enjoyable when I put it like that?

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Raining Again - Moby

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Demyx was angry, and Zexion didn't know what to do with himself. It had – just been an argument, for God's sake, just some session of yelling to let the slate-haired man expel everything he'd gathered, all the black energy caused by being around all those fucking people at the lab all day – he fucking hated Xemnas – but… at the end of it – no, before the end, before he could properly wind down, Demyx had grabbed his coat and was gone. The sound of the front door slamming had been like a bullet, the handle crunching the wall.

But, he supposed in hindsight, Dem hadn't known that the frustration wasn't directed his way… the blond couldn't help being clumsy sometimes, couldn't help having burnt himself on the casserole dish and dropped it, there'd been – no reason for Zexion to just start bellowing like he had. It's always the quiet ones, he told himself, wishing suddenly to have the luxury of time to grab the nearest frypan and beat himself until he was less fucking smart, until his brain-capacity matched his mouth-capacity, so he wouldn't have to go back to work and wouldn't have to come home and yell at the one person that made it all okay.

So, maybe Zexy had fucked up.

He was running within minutes, the dazed quality falling away to leave behind a raw spike of panic. He followed his beloved's steps, flying from the house and into the whipping sheets of rain. The sky was so dark, branches of lightening sparking in the distance, illuminating the world like an armada of paparazzi had come to take note of the man's hideous mistake. Dem had never left before. Demyx had never run away like that.

So, maybe Zexy had fucked up bad.

He leapt into the car, already drenched, water slamming and smashing against the windscreen like artillery. Shivering sharply after only that short amount of time, feeling a deeper stab as he realised that Demyx was out in this, he got the motor going, got the heater blasting, pulled out quickly from the driveway. So many instincts warred, telling him to slow down, speed up, be careful, throw caution to the wind, and all were overridden by the fact that he could barely even see out of the windows. His breaths steamed the interior, mingling with the blinding quality of the rain, forcing him to crack open a window, let the stinging bullets in. The noise was deafening – the world was drowning. Zexion couldn't hear the engine, couldn't hear his teeth chatter or the blasting rush of the heater – it was all just the rain, the rain, the rain.

And then, he saw him. Trust Demyx, in the middle of the largest storm of the season, to be walking calmly down the pavement with his hands in his pockets, drenched to the bone and completely unbothered by the fact. The car cut across two lanes of nonexistent traffic, anyone with an ounce of sense already long-banished indoors. Two wheels mounted the curb, and in his sudden move, Zexion nearly knocked the blond down. Gasping, stopping sharply, he lunged across the gearstick, a knee pressing into the passenger's seat as he released the latch, shoved it open, the startled Demyx gaping in. "Zexion?!"

A hand thrust from the car, snatched a handful of his shirt and wrenched him in. Demyx vanished inside with a yelp, too stunned to fight, Zexion reaching past him, just about straddling him, as he grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut again. The roar on the roof increasing, the panting breaths of the two men lost within. Demeanour impassioned for once in his goddamn life, Zexion slammed the headrest with a fist, bellowing, "Don't ever leave me again!"

Anger flamed in the blond's expression, cheeks flushing, mouth opening to retort, hands already moving to shove the man off again, when Zexion suddenly collapsed against him. His hands, jumping from their fists just as swiftly as they'd formed them, wound around the other man with desperation, and a very surprised Demyx found himself being hugged within an inch of his life. He couldn't hear the words that Zexy said, but saw his lips move, saw him whisper, "I'm so sorry."

And with that, the rage within the blond was gone. He'd never been good at holding a grudge anyway, and it was doubly hard when it came to Zexion. He returned the embrace, sinking low in the passenger's seat, and the two of them stayed like that until it was safe to drive back home, back to clean up the splatter of casserole stretching from one end of the kitchen to the other.