Untitled XigDem...Stuff...

It was always the same.  He would wake up to a soft tap on his arm, or a barely audible "Hey, Xiggy?" and his eye would adjust to the darkness to see Demyx sitting at the edge of his bed, clutching the sheets with his eyes fixed at the same spot on the floor.

Xigbar would hold out his hand to the younger nobody and pull him close, taking in the familiar warmth of his skin and the scent of his hair.  

He would be vaguely aware of the Nocturne squirming and wiggling around to get comfortable, occasionally being bumped in the gut by a stray elbow or knee, all the while waiting patiently for him to relax.  

And Demyx would eventually relax, his head falling to its usual spot on Xigbar's chest, his ear pressed against the scarred skin over where his heart should have been.

Xigbar knew what was coming.  It happened every night.  He knew Demyx was falling alseep; he could feel his bedmate's lips form a small smile as he mumbled, just like every other night,  "Hey Xiggy?"

"Yeah?"

"...I can hear your heartbeat..."