Title: American Boy [2/3]
Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Warnings: language, nostalgia, fluff, sex of the boy/boy variety
Rating: PG-13
Beta: the BetaMistress alovelysilence
A/N: Moped Romance was originally inspired by experiences had by a good friend of mine while we were studying abroad in Rome, Italy, in the spring of 2009; this developed out of the desire to see what happens to our boys after the final chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom. This epilogue's theme song is "American Boy" by Estelle. Give it a listen; it's perfect.

Summary: In which there is such a thing as a happy ending.

In this chapter: Roxas' side of the reunion, and some of what comes after.

There was a certain amount of ridiculous about the whole situation that literally threw Roxas for a loop; less than a week beforehand Roxas had been startled by the sudden, spectral appearance of the American, and now his flesh-and-blood counterpart stood in front of him wearing a similarly dumbstruck expression. Roxas hadn't been expecting this – Sinclaire, he figured, was probably a common enough name in North America that there was simply no way in all of Dante's layers of hell that it would be his Sinclaire. It was impossible.

And yet there he was, definitely real and staring at him with this nervous and startled expression that made his vibrant green eyes pop like emeralds behind dark-rimmed glasses. He was beautiful and vibrant like Roxas remembered so vividly, tall and lanky and maybe a bit more muscular than before; his jeans fit nicely on his wide, bony hips (it was good to know some things never changed about some people) and the V in his shirt collar was low enough to display his defined collar bone that Roxas had spent long nights biting hickeys into. The long red mane was cut a little shorter, but still hung in layered spikes that fell to his neck, framing his long neck and strong, sharp jaw. His emerald eyes were wide and still staring intently, and though it seemed like several long minutes had passed while Roxas assessed every inch of his former lover's body it had really only been a few seconds. He's back, was all he could think. Axel's back.

Roxas' brain went into rewind, flashing back to the February night he'd first met Axel – drunk, lost, desperate, and almost too gorgeous to be real, climbing on the back of his moped and clinging to Roxas' waist tightly as he wove through the streets to take Axel safely back to his apartment. He remembered the look in Axel's eyes when the redhead clambered off, remembered wanting Axel to invite him in so he could push the redhead up against a wall and kiss him senseless – Roxas also remembered punching Axel out when he unceremoniously pitched over and vomited all over Roxas' boots, but that wasn't the most attractive part of their relationship anyway.

He remembered meeting Axel again and again, remembered thinking that the universe – or God, or something – was putting this idiot American in his path deliberately to annoy him or, as he thought later, for much better reasons, no matter how cruel it was. Every moment came rushing back to him, along with every heart-stabbing emotion that his wayward American had brought – affection, disdain, embarrassment, hurt, hope, and love; it washed over Roxas like a tsunami wave, surrounded and overwhelmed him, leaving Roxas feeling like he'd been struck dumb simply by his presence. He thought he'd seen the last of Axel on the plane, that tiny, brief glimpse of red from his spot beside the gate; Roxas figured he'd held and kissed his American for the last time all those years ago, and honestly he'd made peace with that prospect.

But this, this was just fine with him.

The only coherent thought that went through Roxas' head was Does he remember me? Then corner of Axel's mouth turned up in a flickering smile, revealing just the slightest glimpse of his white teeth, and Roxas swallowed hard. Yes, yes he does.

The helmet he'd been clutching in his hands fell to the ground, bouncing away against the ceramic tile floor, and Roxas' face split into a wide grin as he leapt forward, barreling into Axel's long arms and his comfortable, familiar embrace. He couldn't help but grin when he felt the charms from Axel's necklace, once Roxas', dig into his cheek as he hugged him. The fact that there were about twenty university students staring at them didn't faze Roxas in the slightest; for all he knew he was seventeen again, and Axel had abandoned his plane back to the United States to meet him in the terminal.

He didn't know where that fantasy came from, really.

That was just the easy part.

The hard part starts when they begin hanging out together again, and they have to come to terms with how different they both are.

Roxas isn't the seventeen-year-old break-dancer with an attitude he left behind – he's twenty-four, and looking to get a degree so he can go into journalism. He doesn't dance anymore, not after injuring his ankle, but he still likes to go out to the clubs and have a good time. Roxas' English is much better, and from their conversations Axel can tell he's patched things up with his family for the most part, though his father is no longer part of the picture.

Axel isn't the twenty-one-year-old student with too much on his plate anymore, either; he'll be twenty-eight by the end of the year, with Bachelors and Masters degrees under his belt. He's grown up a lot, and worked hard to get there. Axel's more confident now, quick with a smirk and a retort – even in Italian, which seemed to both throw Roxas off and spur him on even more when they got into spats.

All in all, Axel really liked being back in Rome. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the cities he'd been living in for the last few years, and it brought back all of the nostalgia in full force – even though Axel knew he would make the most of it this time around. He willingly went out and played the part of the tourist, taking pictures and going to different sites but most importantly, taking his time to see the things he'd tried to cram in last-minute all those years ago.

Axel and Roxas officially began dating in early February, when Roxas was no longer needed to substitute teach for Axel's class – they both thought it was a good idea to try and maintain some semblance of professionalism, even if they were secretly sneaking off to make out in a closet or going on midnight adventures on Roxas' moped here and there. They were officially dating by early March, but within a few weeks of that announcement Axel's apartment was littered with things belonging to the blond. In fact Roxas' laptop, two thirds of his extensive shoe collection, about half of his clothes, a pile or two of his textbooks, and his helmet had all migrated to Axel's place within that short period of time, mostly because of how often Roxas came over. The blond didn't often stay the night, but when he did it was usually to use Axel as a human pillow and more or less take over the bed.

Axel had asked him about sex one night, and whether it was something he was interested in; it wasn't that Axel was trying to rush, but for him it seemed almost too much sometimes to have the warmth of Roxas' body flush against him, but to be denied anything more than touching. Roxas, in response, had raised an eyebrow at him. Roxas really did want to have sex again; it was something that he missed whole-heartedly, and the thought of being with Axel again after so long set a fire in his stomach. But he didn't want to rush into a relationship with the redhead like he had years ago; Roxas wanted to take this a little slower, to take the time to relearn how Axel thought and acted and what made him moan and hiss under his fingers.

That didn't mean nothing physical had happened between them, though; there had been a lot of kissing since they started meeting for dates, and a few memorable occasions had ended with slow, hot hand jobs that left them both red-faced and panting. After that, Roxas left. He didn't often sleep over, but when he did he usually took Axel's couch.

All of this was perfectly fine with Axel – he was just ecstatic to be with his long-lost blond again, and was willing to take things slow if he wanted to – until Roxas snapped one night.

Axel had made dinner – successfully – and after sharing a couple beers together he got up to do the dishes. He'd put their plates in the sink, and was about to start washing them when he felt the warmth of Roxas' body press up against the length of his back, felt Roxas wrap his arms around him, felt the hardness of his erection pressed against his ass. After that it was a blur of rushed hands and quick sound of zippers sliding, of denim being slid down to reveal sensitive skin and their shared gasp as they found each other again. Roxas pressed Axel against the counter, bending and sliding oil-slick fingers into him gently, stretching him a little more hastily than Axel might've needed. With Roxas' hot breath between his shoulder blades the blond pushed inside, and Axel moaned deep and low as he slid home. His legs were shaking, trembling as they struggled to support him; Roxas' fingers tightened around his hips, his voice small as he whispered something unintelligible, buried deep inside Axel. When he started to move, Axel couldn't help the sounds filtering from his mouth as he tried to push back against Roxas. The blond was bare, that much he could tell, but he really didn't give much of a fuck when Roxas was moving so exquisitely in him after believing for so long that he'd never feel him again.

It was over too fast, as Roxas gave in to every desire he'd felt since seeing Axel for the first time again, thrusting into him wildly and bringing Axel off with his hand before pulling out and spilling himself over Axel's ass. A whispered apology followed between gasps for breath as Roxas melded himself to Axel's sweat-tacky skin, his face between Axel's shoulder blades while they shuddered together in the aftermath of their orgasms.

Officially, Roxas didn't move into Axel's apartment until May; unofficially, a decent portion of his clothes and personal belongings had already migrated to Axel's place by early April.

One thing that surprised Axel was how silent Roxas was about the job Axel was in talks for; he knew Roxas was aware of it and that he was going through a series of interviews before they offered it to him officially, but the blond never once spoke of it after their first cup of espresso together. At first it worried Axel, but as the weeks passed he realized that Roxas was trying to protect himself in the event of the offer falling through – which would inevitably mean that Axel would leave once again. Finally understanding what was probably going on in that little blond head, Axel kept quiet about the very promising goings-on at the university.

When the time finally came, Axel walked back to his apartment with a spring in his step and a mad grin on his face. He didn't see Roxas at first when he walked in the door, but found him sprawled out on a couch with earbuds in blasting something with a ton of percussion while reading an English textbook. Grin widening to the point of possible creepiness, Axel bounced over to the couch and picked up Roxas' feet, moving them off the end of the couch so he could sit cross-legged and face Roxas.

Looking at him suspiciously, Roxas turned off his iPod and tugged one of the earbuds out. "What's up?" he asked in Italian.

"Remember the job I told you about at the American University?" Axel asked, waiting for the slow nod that eventually came. "Well, they offered me the job officially, and I wanted to say yes, but-"

"You bastard," Roxas muttered darkly, his expression morphing from one of hope to developing rage in two seconds flat.

"But I wanted to talk to you first," Axel said loudly, talking over Roxas and ignoring his little outburst.

"Oh," Roxas blanched, his anger dulling completely as he stared at Axel with wide eyes and a slightly slack jaw.

"Yeah," Axel chuckled. "I really want to take this job, not just because it's pretty amazing but because I want to stay here in Rome. Preferably with you. And I just want to know if that is something you're interested in – being with me, you know?"

Roxas didn't answer at first; he simply stared at Axel like he was seeing him for the first time. When it seemed like ten minutes had passed without Roxas saying anything, Axel prepared himself for the final blow. Then, Roxas finally spoke.

"Is this a trick question?"

Axel started. "Uh. No, it isn't."

"Then you're even more of an idiot than I remember," Roxas retorted huffily. When Axel continued to stare at him expectantly, Roxas blurted out a resounding "YES" and tackled him to the couch.

Roxas moved in with Axel officially a few days after that, though by that point there wasn't much left to bring over – all that was really left was to end the lease and proceed in his takeover of Axel's apartment.