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Kingdom Hearts, "An Honest Heart" (Axel/Roxas)
Notes: Now featuring slashy! Timeline may or may not be ALL WRONG: it's been long enough for Roxas and Axel to be accustomed to one another, but still questioning, and Riku has appeared, I think. I took some liberties with unknown facts, but, uh, Roxas takes some liberties here too. Totally prompted by discussion in the wacky AU I was roleplaying last night with Li, but it's not meant to be AU.
.an honest heart.
Axel probably thinks it's funny to try to sneak up on people by melting out of the darkness and stepping suddenly into their personal space, but no one has ever accused Number Thirteen of having an overactive sense of humor. Failing to find it funny, his first instinct is to grab hold, flip, and toss.
Then they are on the floor, Axel on his back and Roxas straddling his hips. The blond's fingers are wrapped tightly around Axel's free hand, holding it closed to keep him from summoning flame the way his instincts bid him, and a second ticks by wherein nothing happens before Axel chuckles breathlessly and relaxes.
"Can't get the drop on Roxas," he says.
Roxas glares down at him, annoyed by the taller man's light-hearted dismissal of what he perceived as an attack. Many of the others have learned to be wary of him but Axel will not be intimidated. He's too clever by half -- he knows when Roxas is brushing him away or seeking to frighten him, and if anything it pleases him instead, the cool detachment with which he is manipulated, and then he comes back to enjoy it again.
"Perhaps you should stop trying then," Roxas suggests, releasing the captive hand without relenting his irritation.
"And miss the chance to get into positions like this?"
Axel says it airily, as if it's one of those things that he says to unsettle people, but he is an indiscriminate liar and Roxas never trusts his "casual" comments. The blond shifts his weight and takes in the flash of awareness that touches Axel's face: this time the truth is disguised as a lie.
Someone more merciful might have left then, but Roxas brings one hand up to trace gloved fingers over the line of jaw bared to him, brushes a thumb over thin lips. Axel's eyes widen in surprise and, yes, there is the lurking hunger that Roxas knows the redhead harbors for him. Emboldened and clearly not at all hesitant, Axel rests one of his own hands on the heavy fabric over Roxas's thigh, something slow and heady unfurling in the unspoken intimacy of that touch.
Maybe if Roxas played Axel's games, he would say here, Tell me what you know, and let himself be the bribe. But he only thinks it, and he leans forward and tips Axel's face up so that he can see it better and the redhead lets him, staring raptly and to all appearances fascinated by this odd mood. The blond doesn't say, only thinks, I know that you know about him, about my Other. You've always feigned ignorance but you've met him and you won't tell me.
Axel is a bastard and Roxas doesn't know if he will ever really forgive him for speaking pretty words of friendship that he cannot possibly feel, and in the same breath disavowing any knowledge of the one thing that has been haunting Roxas for weeks now. Liar. Everything you say is fake.
"What makes you think that you're my friend?" Roxas asks him, his voice a low purr in his own ears. It's the tone and not the words that make the green flame leap in Axel's eyes.
They are just close enough that Roxas can taste his breath, cinammon and the faint pleasant scent of darkness: like moss, evoking images of deep forests and decomposing nature. Axel murmurs, "Because you wouldn't be here like this with anyone else, now would you?"
Roxas frowns at him, because that much is true, but it doesn't answer any of the questions he really wants answered. The redhead tries to tangle fingers into the front of his cloak and drag him lower but Roxas releases him and bats the hand away. He has no intention of giving anything to Axel if not on his own terms. In a single smooth gesture he gets to his feet and spins, stalking off.
He doesn't look back, but his mind can imagine what he would see if he does: Axel sitting upright, leaning against one knee and watching him with narrowed eyes and utterly unfazed by the whole scene, to all outward appearances. But on the inside the organ called a heart will be thudding fast and hard in his chest.
Roxas knows because he can still feel it beneath his taunting fingers, the fluttering pulse that called out to him even through his thick gloves. That, at least, is no lie.
.an honest heart.
Axel probably thinks it's funny to try to sneak up on people by melting out of the darkness and stepping suddenly into their personal space, but no one has ever accused Number Thirteen of having an overactive sense of humor. Failing to find it funny, his first instinct is to grab hold, flip, and toss.
Then they are on the floor, Axel on his back and Roxas straddling his hips. The blond's fingers are wrapped tightly around Axel's free hand, holding it closed to keep him from summoning flame the way his instincts bid him, and a second ticks by wherein nothing happens before Axel chuckles breathlessly and relaxes.
"Can't get the drop on Roxas," he says.
Roxas glares down at him, annoyed by the taller man's light-hearted dismissal of what he perceived as an attack. Many of the others have learned to be wary of him but Axel will not be intimidated. He's too clever by half -- he knows when Roxas is brushing him away or seeking to frighten him, and if anything it pleases him instead, the cool detachment with which he is manipulated, and then he comes back to enjoy it again.
"Perhaps you should stop trying then," Roxas suggests, releasing the captive hand without relenting his irritation.
"And miss the chance to get into positions like this?"
Axel says it airily, as if it's one of those things that he says to unsettle people, but he is an indiscriminate liar and Roxas never trusts his "casual" comments. The blond shifts his weight and takes in the flash of awareness that touches Axel's face: this time the truth is disguised as a lie.
Someone more merciful might have left then, but Roxas brings one hand up to trace gloved fingers over the line of jaw bared to him, brushes a thumb over thin lips. Axel's eyes widen in surprise and, yes, there is the lurking hunger that Roxas knows the redhead harbors for him. Emboldened and clearly not at all hesitant, Axel rests one of his own hands on the heavy fabric over Roxas's thigh, something slow and heady unfurling in the unspoken intimacy of that touch.
Maybe if Roxas played Axel's games, he would say here, Tell me what you know, and let himself be the bribe. But he only thinks it, and he leans forward and tips Axel's face up so that he can see it better and the redhead lets him, staring raptly and to all appearances fascinated by this odd mood. The blond doesn't say, only thinks, I know that you know about him, about my Other. You've always feigned ignorance but you've met him and you won't tell me.
Axel is a bastard and Roxas doesn't know if he will ever really forgive him for speaking pretty words of friendship that he cannot possibly feel, and in the same breath disavowing any knowledge of the one thing that has been haunting Roxas for weeks now. Liar. Everything you say is fake.
"What makes you think that you're my friend?" Roxas asks him, his voice a low purr in his own ears. It's the tone and not the words that make the green flame leap in Axel's eyes.
They are just close enough that Roxas can taste his breath, cinammon and the faint pleasant scent of darkness: like moss, evoking images of deep forests and decomposing nature. Axel murmurs, "Because you wouldn't be here like this with anyone else, now would you?"
Roxas frowns at him, because that much is true, but it doesn't answer any of the questions he really wants answered. The redhead tries to tangle fingers into the front of his cloak and drag him lower but Roxas releases him and bats the hand away. He has no intention of giving anything to Axel if not on his own terms. In a single smooth gesture he gets to his feet and spins, stalking off.
He doesn't look back, but his mind can imagine what he would see if he does: Axel sitting upright, leaning against one knee and watching him with narrowed eyes and utterly unfazed by the whole scene, to all outward appearances. But on the inside the organ called a heart will be thudding fast and hard in his chest.
Roxas knows because he can still feel it beneath his taunting fingers, the fluttering pulse that called out to him even through his thick gloves. That, at least, is no lie.
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Ouch. Feeling the burn on that one.
Great fic :)
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