Disclaimer: I don't own KH2 – more's the pity – and I'm not making any money off this fanfiction. I also don't own the lyrics to Nickelback's Next Contestant I just borrowed them because in my mind they suit this pairing perfectly. Muahaha.


Warnings: Language, male/male relations... adult situations?


Author's Notes: This was a fanfic I wrote for one of my very best friends and RP buddies, Lexis. We used to RP this pairing, but don't seem to so much anymore. Nevertheless, the song Next Contestant always made me think of her Saix and his mindset and thoughts about Xemnas. So one night, very late at night, I wrote the fic. So here it is.


Next Contestant. - KittyMeowMaxwell.


I judge by what he's wearing
Just how many heads I'm tearing
Off of assholes coming on to him.
Each night seems like it's getting worse.


He passed Saix every night, dressed, each time, in something extravagant and suggestive. His silver hair was always left free around his shoulders, slithering against the caramel of his neck, and dipping into the collar of whatever shirt – or suggestion of a shirt – he had picked for that particular evening. Tonight he had chosen to dress conservatively – by his standards – in a long black leather jacket, and pants and boots to match. The jacket zipped from throat to knees and had silver toggles and a hood and Saix wondered at it.


Of course, it wasn't like Xemnas to pass unnoticed and, though he always offered his most faithful bouncer a nod and a polite smile, tonight he gave more. He paused just inside the doorway, and unzipped the strange coat, showing that a scant vest lay beneath. His skin shifted over muscle as he shrugged out of the jacket and passed it to Saix.

“Hang that, won't you?” he said carelessly, and walked on.


Saix watched with thinly-veiled displeasure as a gaggle of men and women pursued Xemnas across the dancefloor to the bar where he sat to order a drink, drawn like bees to honey by the cling of the vest about his body. Of course, his Master couldn't know it, but the bouncer had, since he was first employed, taken it upon himself to tail Xemnas and be sure that no idiots bothered the man. Of course, he couldn't go against a direct order like that, and so he was forced to give up his near-obsessive attention in order to whisk the long coat away to the cloak room.


And I wish he'd take the night off
So I don't have to fight off
Every asshole coming on to him.
It happens every night he works.


Xemnas could not be said to work, in the purest sense of the word. He didn't tend the bar, he didn't wait on the patrons, he didn't even stand at the door and greet (or refuse) people. Yet, he did the greatest good for the club that could possibly be done, and he knew it. He was rich largely because he did bring himself here, to his club, almost every night, and people flocked here in hopes that they would see or even be able to dance with him.


So he did work, in some ways.


Saix returned, hovering on the periphery and glaring away all those he could manage to scare off. He would be more overt, if he could, but he knew Xemnas would not like it. He knew he overstepped his bounds with every patron he fought off, but he couldn't bare to see them touch his Master.


Xemnas was perfect, and he should not be sullied by the touch of the strangers...


They'll go and ask the DJ
Find out just what would he say
If they all tried coming on to him.
Don't they know it's never going to work?


He remained aloof, untouchable – to a degree. Though they might touch his arm, or his leg, his fingers or his hip, never did Xemnas allow them to grow more intimate. He was always that which they sought but could not have. It did amuse Saix to some degree. They were like lemmings, each following the last off the cliff in the vain hope that, this time, he might fly.


They asked those who worked at the club – the barman, the Djs, the bouncers, the waiters and waitresses – but all would just smile and shrug their shoulders. We don't know. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. If he wants you, you'll know. But he never did. Patron after patron approched him, with any number of tactics, but none succeeded.


That was how Saix knew. Knew he was perfect.


They think they'll get inside him
With every drink they buy him
As they all try coming on to him.
This time somebody's getting hurt.

Here comes the next contestant.


But there was something different this time. Saix felt it in his bones. Something in the fact that he had been given the jacket, given the task of taking it somewhere safe. Xemnas had trusted him with something important, and he had walked across the club enveloped in the silver-haired man's scent, the warmth of his skin still latent in the leather.


Each drink passed to his Master, each brush of tainted fingertips across caramel skin had him more and more irritated. He had never felt quite like this before – so possessive and longing that it seemed almost painful to let those other people touch Xemnas. Didn't they understand how superior he was to them? How they had no right?


Couldn't they see?


Saix's intense concentration on his Master was momentarily broken when a man shouldered past him, his intent clear. The bouncer made a grab for the back of the man's silk shirt, but he missed by a hairsbreadth and so the raven-haired stranger continued on, his stride purposeful.


Saix fisted his hands, almost snarling. This one displeased him even more than usual. His confidance, his sleek self-love, his... his... sheer arrogance sickened the blue-haired man. And when a hand encased in a fingerless glove curved over Xemnas' bare shoulder, Saix thought he might rip that smirk right off the man's face.

Is that your hand on my Master?
Is that your hand?


Xemnas laughed a little, winking up at the man, and a casual shrug saw the hand slipping free, then he stood, and walked with the man to the dancefloor.


I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.
I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.


They danced and Saix watched avidly, barely containing his righteous fury – how dare the smarmy bastard lay even a finger on Xemnas? He did it again and again, at his Master's waist, his wrist, his neck, his cheek.


Then Xemnas drew away, and chose a different partner, and the raven-haired stranger disappeared into the throng with a smile.


There goes the next contestant.


Saix found him, and saw to it that he left...

I even fear the ladies
They're cool but twice as crazy.
Just as bad for coming on to him.
Don't they know it's never going to work?


When he returned, he found his Master had chosen a – slightly – safer partner to dance with. She was willowy and slight and seemed to happy to let him guide her, so she wasn't likely to go about putting her hands where they didn't belong. It seemed Xemnas needed a break from that too. Certainly, Saix reflected, it couldn't always be enjoyable to be having to fend off overly-familiar strangers...


He chased off a couple more would-be 'dance partners' with the simplest of cold looks and low comments of “Xemnas is busy right now...”


He had previously disliked how afraid he seemed to make people, but recently he had come to be glad of it. The thought brought a dark smirk to his lips and he cast his eyes about, seeking his prize.


There he was, safe enough, the slightest of smiles curving his lips.


Oh, yes. He was so beautiful. So perfect. Even Saix didn't deserve to touch him.


Each time he bats an eyelash
Somebody's grabbing his ass.
Everyone keeps coming on to him.
This time somebody's getting hurt.


Here comes the next contestant.


Another woman drew in beside the first, dancing as much with her as she was with Xemnas, and his Master chuckled low and bent to murmur something in her ear which made her giggle. Saix was glad he wasn't holding anything, because he would broken whatever it was, be it glass, or broom... or neck.


Why did he bother with these bottom feeders? He was so much better than any of them and he didn't need their hollow worship to make him stronger. He could be no stronger and no weaker if he did go without praise. Saix offered it constantly, even if it was silent.


Then the woman slid an arm around Xemnas' waist, a hand downwards, to cup about the leather-clad behind.

Is that your hand on my Master?
Is that your hand?


Silver brows arched, and Xemnas asked something Saix couldn't quite make out, but she shifted her hand up again, laughing. He laughed, too, but his amber eyes glinted and they briefly lifted away from the woman, seeking through the crowd for a moment before they turned their attention to her again.


I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.
I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.


She wasn't deterred for long, and her hand dropped again. He tired of her bold company quickly and disengaged himself from her arm, ignoring her pouts and complaints.


There goes the next contestant.

Saix sought her out, as well, and saw her off.


I'm hating what he's wearing,
Everybody here keeps staring.
Can't wait 'til they get what they deserve.
This time somebody's getting hurt.


Here comes the next contestant.


He'd had enough. He wanted Xemnas to know, to understand that he didn't have to pander to their constant lust, their vacuous attentions. He pressed through the crowd, but Xemnas turned away and made for the bar once more, taking a seat, and the light there was better.


Saix's courage failed him.


The bartender said something to Xemnas and he rolled his eyes and nodded dryly, agreeing with whatever comment the man had made. Someone else was making their way along the bar and Saix heard himself growling softly. Did they never stop? He was angrier than he'd ever been before – Xemnas trusted him, had turned his attention to Saix first thing that night.


Why wouldn't they leave him alone?!


Another touch, a hand curling about the curve of Xemnas' neck and Saix temper snapped.

Is that your hand on my Master?
Is that your hand?


“Let go.”


I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.


The man's hand fell away and both he and Xemnas looked up in clear surprise.


“Saix...?” Xemnas wondered in confusion, and followed the bouncer's gaze to the man's other hand, which rested against his wrist.


“Let go,” Saix demanded again, and the man quailed, snatching his hand away.


I wish you'd do it again -
I'll watch you leave here limping.


“Do it again, I dare you...” he said with cold danger, but the man shook his head and thought it prudent to melt into the crowd.


“Saix, what do you think you're-”


Saix pressed a finger to Xemnas' lips, trembling at his own audacity and those amber eyes widened, all their attention on him and him only.


I wish you'd do it again.
Each night seems like it's getting worse.


“More and more,” Saix growled. “More and more they flock to you, watch you... touch you. I can stand it no longer. They have no right.”


Xemnas' eyes widened further, if that was possible, and those around them had grown still and silent, watching the exchange.


I wish you'd do it again.
This time somebody's getting hurt.


“What...?” he whispered against Saix's finger and the bouncer glanced around. What was he doing? He knew he didn't have the right either, and it stung to acknowledge that – he was everything he disliked so intently about all those fawning, flocking bastards.


“I... You... You are...”


He drew his hand away suddenly, aware that he was touching that which he shouldn't, sullying that which was perfect. He had broken his own rules, done what made him so angry. His hands fisted so hard he drew blood from his palms.


“I'm... I'm sorry... Master... I haven't the right,” he said haltingly, and turned abruptly on his heel, with every intention of leaving and never coming back.


Saix,” Xemnas said firmly and he was powerless to do anything but obey. Slowly, he turned back again, meeting that amber gaze. His Master smirked, sending his stomach dropping away from behind his navel.


The man stood, silver hair shifting about his shoulders, and Saix knew he'd won, he'd beaten them all, when Xemnas' mouth took his.


There goes the next contestant.




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