Current mood:	accomplished
Current music:	Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day
Entry tags:	fanfiction, kingdom hearts

(KH Drabble) Tag
X-posted to khyaoi

Tag 1/1
By tsukinofaerii
Rating: SNUG
Generic/Romance
Warnings: Language, Male/Male
Spoilers: No spoilers
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: Roxas/Axel

Summary: Laser tag. What kind of first date is that? Complete ficlet.

This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Kingdom Hearts was created and is owned by Tetsuya Nomura and Disney. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.

A/N: Written for hrada, who provided me with priceless information which will help in coming ficcage. Remember when I said 100-500 words? 684 is close, right?

***

Laser tag. Why laser tag?

I admit, it's my fault. Axel won the coin toss to decide where our first date would be, and I told him to be creative. I just didn't want some sort of girly romance flick or overpriced dinner. No one can blame me. Whatever he does, I have to come up with something better next time. What student has a budget with room for a limousine or a six course meal?

Not Roxas Sheut, that's damn sure. I'm lucky to get through tuition most semesters.

Of all the places most likely for a first date, laser tag was at bottom of my list. Not that it's boring, but you split up at the start and only meet again when it's over. What kind of first date is that? Aren't we supposed to be learning more about each other, instead of dodging around blind corners taking pot-shots at people who may or may not be our date? Okay, so I've known him since high school. That's not that point. Maybe there was some sort of mystical force hotwiring his brain or something when he thought of this. Maybe he thinks shit like this is romantic.

Damn, I knew I liked the guy for a reason.

Axel is my goal as I crawl through dim tunnels, hidden from the strobe lights or more traveled areas. He'll be easy to spot, between his hair and height, even in the smoke and mirrors world of the Battle Complex. I've already hit at least ten other people, and we've barely been in here a few minutes. Some of them were stupid enough to just walk around looking for targets, but a few were trickier. I've got to let Axel know what an awesome idea this was.

After I kick his ass, of course.

There's a set of platforms in a corner, like a jungle gym for Rambo. It's the only way up to the second and third levels where the really flashy work happens, and there's no way to use it without leaving yourself exposed to sniper shots. Perfect. Axel's the type to want the high ground, especially when it's got trapdoors and rotating walls. I settle under the bars in a deep shadow, where there's a clear shot all the way up. If he even thinks about climbing those things, I can ping him fifty times before he hits the top.

Genius that I am, I don't look up.

Axel has me pinned face-down before I even notice that he's up there. Thin linoleum presses against my cheek as he presses against me, cloth t-shirt rubbing against the plastic receptor on my back. The bastard took off his gear and climbed under the levels! What kind of psycho does shit like that?

Axel's kind of psycho, I guess. Somehow, it's hard to complain. He's grinning, breath hot against my neck. "I win."

"Yeah, yeah." It's breaking my spine, but I manage to glare up at him. He looks like he won a basket of lighter fluid and can't wait to make it explode. "What are you gonna do now? Torture me?"

His weight shifts on my back. "Heh. Maybe."

He kisses me. Axel, the guy with facial tattoos and a nearly paraphiliac liking for fire, kisses me. He's so careful, so gentle, like I'll shatter into mirrored shards of myself if he's too rough. It's all softness and warmth, and unbearably arousing for a simple press of lips to lips.

Our lips part, just enough that they're not actually still touching. His eyes are acid where the strobes catch them, green and sharp. My neck aches like a son-of-a-bitch and my rifle is digging into my chest, but every nerve I own is sending contradictory messages of pain/pleasure and I just don't give a damn. Anyway, his super-heated frame against my back is working to relax the same muscles it's causing to cramp, making it pretty much bearable.

Licking my lips, I manage a smile that hopefully doesn't show how damned hard I am. "Is that all you've got?"

Hmmmm. I guess not.

Owaru.