same old
That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball. No, really.
I'm alarmed by the fact that when a stray leaf is blown towards me, my first thought is "Dear God, the invasion has begun!" followed by "Crap, we're already surrounded."
I'm bemused by the fact that I spent a good ten minutes of my Victorian Lit. class defending a murderer. This is what happens when you play with fictional assassins, kids. Or not. I had a very reasonable arguement. It wasn't a violent strangling; it was gentle. Loving, even. Ah, I love Browning, the crazy bastard.
Busy weeks usually equal fics of some variety. Erego, this. Lovingly written while bored in classes. Because what else is one supposed to do in class, I ask you!
Title: The Importance of Sharing Sake
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: mild 3/5/8
Disclaimer: Ain’t mine.
Rating: PG-13
AN: Ficlet. Possibly the first in a series?
Summary: The whole event required an obscene amount of alcohol.
The whole event had required an obscene amount of alcohol. Of course it did. Most things-fundamental break-through type of things-required the consumption of that most toxic brew known to man, concocted from the grainy fields of hell.
Not that the origins really mattered. Hakkai might have once shown an interest in the process of making sake or beer or any number of drinks. But Gojyo and Sanzo were only concerned with the number of servings to be found in a bottle. Of which Gojyo usually counted one and horded the alcohol all to himself.
No one had ever taught the half-breed how to share, after all.
“No one taught me anything,” Gojyo declared with a strangely somber type of glee. “Taught muh-myshelf. Had to. School of hard…hard…eh…”
“Fucks?” Sanzo bluntly suggested, droopy-eyed but still sneering. Hakkai politely moved the priest’s elbow from a thankfully empty sake cup. Sanzo sneered his thanks.
“Maa maa, that’s not nice, Sanzo,” the healer admonished. He never supported the idea that drinking was an excuse for rudeness. Not that Sanzo wasn’t rude every other minute of the day, but the principle remained the same despite the blonde’s shortcomings.
“Truth never is,” Sanzo muttered with an icy tone.
Hakkai frowned. “That isn’t-”
“Gotta point,” Gojyo interrupted, pointing at the monk and totally ruining Hakkai’s chivalrous verbal battle to defend his honor. “Yer still a dick though.”
Another cup was downed by the whole table, cups hitting the cheap wooden surface in rapid succession.
“You’re a liar too,” Sanzo continued on, slightly pink in the face. “Someone taught you how to dress. Bad. Dress that bad.”
Gojyo attempted a two finger salute. Unfortunately he used two fingers on the same hand and the effect was slightly ruined. “Least I learned how to live, dumb girly monk.”
“Die,” came the growling reply.
“Was that a correction or a threat?” Hakkai wondered with a pointed look in Sanzo’s direction. Neither option was preferable and could easily ruin the mostly companionable night they were having. “If we’ve all had enough…”
Sanzo wisely chose to bite his tongue, mulishly holding out his cup in a silent demand. Gojyo obliged, albeit shakily, earlier bickering easily tossed aside for the time being. Hakkai watched and was once again grateful for his perpetual state of soberness, especially considering the amount of spilled sake that resulted from unsteady hands.
Sighing, the brunette was about to take the bottle away from the redhead when Sanzo beat him to the punch. Hakkai figured that phrase would involve a literal punch considering who the parties involved were.
But no. Pale fingers wrapped around tanned wrist and tugged, bringing mouth to flesh as the monk wasted not, catching every stray drop. Red eyes narrowed slightly, but aside from that Gojyo barely reacted. Just sat with a broad grin and lazy airs about him, interested but not engaging. Sanzo glanced up, a violet look that was a bit too bright, teeth a white crescent as some semblance of a smile passed over the blonde’s mouth. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was something, and it made Gojyo lean forward, a lazy sway of shoulders and hair.
Hakkai watched the scene play out, startled and most definitely intrigued. Waited for some climactic ending. A terrible, bruising one because his mind wouldn’t even suggest lighter, dream-like. Not with these men, not in this room. Priest and half-breed, mouths intolerably close with sharp grins and sharper eyes and any moment one or the other would make a move, surge into the other and…
Sanzo retreated with sake bottle in hand. Gojyo let him go without pause, propping his chin up on the same hand that had started this whole mess.
“Bastard.”
“Asshole.”
Hakkai had never paid much attention to the concept of foreplay and now it suddenly struck him with all the gentleness of a stampede.
“Oh,” he said, voice deeper, rougher, than usual. Hakkai released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and slumped a bit in his seat, eyes still locked on his companions.
Sanzo and Gojyo turned and met his gaze seemingly on cue.
“Alcohol doesn’t affect you, ne? Good to know something does.” Gojyo grinned. “Hakkai, you minx.”
The brunette froze. “You were drunk a moment ago,” he accused with exasperation.
A careless shrug. “Eh. It comes and goes.”
“Mostly goes,” Sanzo muttered, taking another sip.
“Be nice, Sanzo-sama, or Hakkai might decide not to stay.” Gojyo glared and the monk smirked around the rim of his cup.
They looked like they wanted to devour each other whole.
The hand on his thigh sent a jolt through Hakkai’s system, familiar fingers pressing into sensitive skin, foreign heat through thin fabric. Hakkai wanted to put the world on pause, talk everything out, but Gojyo looked at him in a purely Gojyo fashion, brash and hopeful and uncertain.
Gojyo wouldn’t ask because no one ever taught him to ask for the things he wants.
Somehow Sanzo had figured that out before Hakkai.
Sanzo waited, bored expression and annoyed patience, no doubt ready to just throw Gojyo onto any convenient surface if the brunette took too long. He wouldn’t ask simply because he didn’t think he had to.
Hakkai thought that he finally, somehow, understood.
Fingers clasping the wrist pressed against his leg, Hakkai held out his empty cup, watching Gojyo’s growing smile from the corner of his eye.
This time, Sanzo poured.
I'm alarmed by the fact that when a stray leaf is blown towards me, my first thought is "Dear God, the invasion has begun!" followed by "Crap, we're already surrounded."
I'm bemused by the fact that I spent a good ten minutes of my Victorian Lit. class defending a murderer. This is what happens when you play with fictional assassins, kids. Or not. I had a very reasonable arguement. It wasn't a violent strangling; it was gentle. Loving, even. Ah, I love Browning, the crazy bastard.
Busy weeks usually equal fics of some variety. Erego, this. Lovingly written while bored in classes. Because what else is one supposed to do in class, I ask you!
Title: The Importance of Sharing Sake
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: mild 3/5/8
Disclaimer: Ain’t mine.
Rating: PG-13
AN: Ficlet. Possibly the first in a series?
Summary: The whole event required an obscene amount of alcohol.
The whole event had required an obscene amount of alcohol. Of course it did. Most things-fundamental break-through type of things-required the consumption of that most toxic brew known to man, concocted from the grainy fields of hell.
Not that the origins really mattered. Hakkai might have once shown an interest in the process of making sake or beer or any number of drinks. But Gojyo and Sanzo were only concerned with the number of servings to be found in a bottle. Of which Gojyo usually counted one and horded the alcohol all to himself.
No one had ever taught the half-breed how to share, after all.
“No one taught me anything,” Gojyo declared with a strangely somber type of glee. “Taught muh-myshelf. Had to. School of hard…hard…eh…”
“Fucks?” Sanzo bluntly suggested, droopy-eyed but still sneering. Hakkai politely moved the priest’s elbow from a thankfully empty sake cup. Sanzo sneered his thanks.
“Maa maa, that’s not nice, Sanzo,” the healer admonished. He never supported the idea that drinking was an excuse for rudeness. Not that Sanzo wasn’t rude every other minute of the day, but the principle remained the same despite the blonde’s shortcomings.
“Truth never is,” Sanzo muttered with an icy tone.
Hakkai frowned. “That isn’t-”
“Gotta point,” Gojyo interrupted, pointing at the monk and totally ruining Hakkai’s chivalrous verbal battle to defend his honor. “Yer still a dick though.”
Another cup was downed by the whole table, cups hitting the cheap wooden surface in rapid succession.
“You’re a liar too,” Sanzo continued on, slightly pink in the face. “Someone taught you how to dress. Bad. Dress that bad.”
Gojyo attempted a two finger salute. Unfortunately he used two fingers on the same hand and the effect was slightly ruined. “Least I learned how to live, dumb girly monk.”
“Die,” came the growling reply.
“Was that a correction or a threat?” Hakkai wondered with a pointed look in Sanzo’s direction. Neither option was preferable and could easily ruin the mostly companionable night they were having. “If we’ve all had enough…”
Sanzo wisely chose to bite his tongue, mulishly holding out his cup in a silent demand. Gojyo obliged, albeit shakily, earlier bickering easily tossed aside for the time being. Hakkai watched and was once again grateful for his perpetual state of soberness, especially considering the amount of spilled sake that resulted from unsteady hands.
Sighing, the brunette was about to take the bottle away from the redhead when Sanzo beat him to the punch. Hakkai figured that phrase would involve a literal punch considering who the parties involved were.
But no. Pale fingers wrapped around tanned wrist and tugged, bringing mouth to flesh as the monk wasted not, catching every stray drop. Red eyes narrowed slightly, but aside from that Gojyo barely reacted. Just sat with a broad grin and lazy airs about him, interested but not engaging. Sanzo glanced up, a violet look that was a bit too bright, teeth a white crescent as some semblance of a smile passed over the blonde’s mouth. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was something, and it made Gojyo lean forward, a lazy sway of shoulders and hair.
Hakkai watched the scene play out, startled and most definitely intrigued. Waited for some climactic ending. A terrible, bruising one because his mind wouldn’t even suggest lighter, dream-like. Not with these men, not in this room. Priest and half-breed, mouths intolerably close with sharp grins and sharper eyes and any moment one or the other would make a move, surge into the other and…
Sanzo retreated with sake bottle in hand. Gojyo let him go without pause, propping his chin up on the same hand that had started this whole mess.
“Bastard.”
“Asshole.”
Hakkai had never paid much attention to the concept of foreplay and now it suddenly struck him with all the gentleness of a stampede.
“Oh,” he said, voice deeper, rougher, than usual. Hakkai released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and slumped a bit in his seat, eyes still locked on his companions.
Sanzo and Gojyo turned and met his gaze seemingly on cue.
“Alcohol doesn’t affect you, ne? Good to know something does.” Gojyo grinned. “Hakkai, you minx.”
The brunette froze. “You were drunk a moment ago,” he accused with exasperation.
A careless shrug. “Eh. It comes and goes.”
“Mostly goes,” Sanzo muttered, taking another sip.
“Be nice, Sanzo-sama, or Hakkai might decide not to stay.” Gojyo glared and the monk smirked around the rim of his cup.
They looked like they wanted to devour each other whole.
The hand on his thigh sent a jolt through Hakkai’s system, familiar fingers pressing into sensitive skin, foreign heat through thin fabric. Hakkai wanted to put the world on pause, talk everything out, but Gojyo looked at him in a purely Gojyo fashion, brash and hopeful and uncertain.
Gojyo wouldn’t ask because no one ever taught him to ask for the things he wants.
Somehow Sanzo had figured that out before Hakkai.
Sanzo waited, bored expression and annoyed patience, no doubt ready to just throw Gojyo onto any convenient surface if the brunette took too long. He wouldn’t ask simply because he didn’t think he had to.
Hakkai thought that he finally, somehow, understood.
Fingers clasping the wrist pressed against his leg, Hakkai held out his empty cup, watching Gojyo’s growing smile from the corner of his eye.
This time, Sanzo poured.