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She’s laid out across you on the couch again. Kicking her feet, reading a book. It’d be annoying to you if it didn’t annoy Saix even more.
“Larxene— Larx—!”
She bats you with the heel of her boot again to shut you up.
“Come on—!”
Again, she nails you in the jaw with her heel. Ouch.
“I’m reading.” Larxene rolls over to smirk up at you, she waves around the open book as though it means anything. “Pipe down, Axel.”
“Stop kicking me in the face.” You answer back on a huff.
A hum. “Maybe.” She rolls back onto her stomach again.
You tap out a monotonous rhythm on the small of her back, waiting patiently for her to react. She hates it when you do stuff like this. Repetition gets on her nerves.
-/-/-/-
“Oi, Larxene.”
“Hm?”
“Think fast!”
And she does.
Fuck.
You were kind of hoping she wouldn’t catch your shoe. Now you’re awkwardly standing there balancing on one foot because the ground is cold and she’s holding your boot. She didn’t even need to look up to catch it.
Larxene leans over the armrest of the couch. “Axel, you look stupid.”
“Yeah well, screw off.”
She laughs, such a beautiful sound. She tosses you back your boot.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
There’s a faint rush of heat to your face at that. Really faint. So faint you doubt it’s even visible, but it’s still there.
“Get a room you two.”
You pivot to face Demyx.
“It’s gross.” He exaggerates the words and his expression. “Like, c’mon. Right in front of my sitar?”
“Grow up, Demyx,” Larxene answers from the couch.
“I bet I can get you two fired.” It’s a clear bid for an argument. Bait in its truest form. There’s no way he means it genuinely. He just wants to fight.
And Larxene bites.
You awkwardly slide your boot back on as they bite at each other and try to sneak out.
You told Roxas you’d have ice cream with him.
-/-/-/-
Roxas asks if you and Larxene are dating.
You refrain from going on a spiel about how the thought alone of dating her makes you want to vomit.
You just shrug and say, “Don’t get it twisted, kid.”
Confusion is on Roxas’ face.
“Right, you’re only a few weeks old.” You laugh awkwardly at his confusion. You keep forgetting how young he is, how new he is to existing, how little he knows. Makes sense he wouldn’t know the differences, or where there aren’t any differences, of friendship and romance.
He’ll figure ‘em out eventually living with the rest of Organization XIII.
That you’re certain of.
-/-/-/-
Larxene brushes your hair sometimes. Only when it starts to get on her nerves how unkempt you keep it on purpose.
Gel it up and forget about it, you told her once.
She simply sighed.
And now you’re laid out on her lap like a cat, comfortable. She runs gloved fingers through your hair with one hand. The other holds a comb that catches on horrible knots.
“Ow.”
“Brush it more and it won’t hurt.”
You whimper. “Mean to me.” You narrowly refrain from angling to boot Larxene in the face with your heel like she does to you on many occasions.
“You deserve it.”
“Larx, you’re a dick.”
“And you aren’t?”
You hum. “Yeah. You love it.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Oh, Larx, you love me,” You singsong, dry humour laid on thick. She hates you. She loves you, the way your back arches at least. It’s all in good fun, really.
She tugs your hair, gripping tight. You simply follow the motion, smirking.
“Save it for later, baby.” You offer up a wink as you speak. It’s fun to watch her face contort in humoured disgust.
She releases your hair and brushes it down with the comb again. Working out knots, slow and steady. If you could you imagine you’d purr. She’d probably chitter or something weird like that.
Roxas is crouched by the couch in front of your face when you open your eyes next.
“Hey, Roxas.”
“You sure you’re not—”
“I’m sure.” You cut him off before he can say ‘dating,’ he does not need to know how pissed Larxene gets about dating accusations. Unless they’re from Demyx. It’s fair game if they’re from Demyx, he’s fun to play with.
She doesn’t shoe him away because you’re making small talk with him.
It’s nice to have two people that you “love” near you.
“You should brush your hair sometime too, blondie,” Larxene snaps from above you, a strain to her tone. “It’s a mess.”
“Aw, someone cares,” You sing up to her from where you lay.
“Shut up.”
“Yes ma’am.”
-/-/-/-
There’s something about the way you curl up in bed next to Larxene and Demyx that makes you think that maybe it’s fair for Roxas and Xion to assume you’re dating them.
Really, all you’re trying to do is get some body heat. All of you are coldblooded, but Demyx stole a heat lamp from a pet shop. He oozes the warmth he soaks up so of course you cling to him for it. Even your own fire doesn’t get the job done very well when it comes to heating you up, it’s only surface level.
It’s more in your bones when you’re laying over Demyx and Larxene in the warm light.
Larxene cards her fingers through your hair again. It’s the light, you decide. She’s way too cold to do this normally. Her fingertips are still icy against your scalp though.
You simply hum up against her touch.
“Weirdos.”
“You can leave.”
“It’s my room.”
You can feel Demyx huddle up closer to Larxene in spite of it.
You don’t say anything. You simply stretch all your limbs before settling back against them. Demyx calls you a cat. Larxene tells you to stay still.
You hum out a pleased sound in reply as heat starts to soak into you again. Thank you all black casual clothing.
-/-/-/-
“Are Larxene and Axel...”
Roxas shook his head. “No, they’re friends.”
Xion gave him a perplexed look.
“Same,” Roxas simply answered on an awkward laugh, “Wanna get some ice cream with me and Axel today?”
“Sure.”
And the topic is dropped.