Saiyuki fic: Caught
The sequel to Released! Now with a beta by 
emungere. This one has much more Gen and Professor Son.
Ed always worried more about the age thing than I did. Shit, Ed worried more than I did anyway. "You told him," he asked for the millionth time, "that I'm older? Significantly so?"
"He doesn't care," I said. "And yeah, I told him. And he doesn't care. Nobody cares about that but you." I leaned in and kissed his neck. "Besides, if he did care, he wouldn't the second he smelled that stew."
He brightened up a little at that. "You think?"
"It smells fantastic," I said, and slid my arms around his waist. He could say what he wanted; most guys my age would still have killed for a body like his.
I nuzzled at his hair and he said, "Jeff, you don't want to feed your professor a stew that's burnt on the bottom, do you?"
I didn't care much at that point, but I knew I wouldn't get anywhere, so I settled for kissing the back of his ear and letting go. "You want me to set the table?"
"Do you think you can place the silverware correctly?"
I stuck my tongue out at him.
Don't get me wrong; I wanted to make a good impression. Dr. Son had been the one to recommend a tutor to me in the first place. Without that, I probably wouldn't have made it to graduation, much less have Ed in bed with me every night. I'd wanted to thank him for years, but Ed insisted it was 'more appropriate' to wait until I was done with school. So here we were, all nice and appropriate, with Ed cooking enough for the goddamned city when we were only having one guest, and looking like a fucking Hong Kong movie star. I wanted to bend him over the counter, but Dr. Son was coming in ten minutes, so I was a good boy and set the table instead.
He actually came in five minutes, with a bottle of wine. I'd never really seen him out of the classroom, where he usually wore a jacket and a loosely tied tie. He'd ditched the tie and jacket but was still wearing a nice shirt, dark purple, and his hair -- which was usually a disaster -- had been carefully combed into place.
I saw Ed inspect the label as he took the bottle, and it must've been a good brand, 'cause he smiled a little more. "Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to bring anything--"
"Least I could do," Dr. Son said, with his easy, friendly smile. Most people at the college thought he'd been a stoner back in the day, and now had so much pot in his system he was always mellow. I kind of figured it was just the way he was. "Smells great in here."
"I do aim to please," Ed said, and we let him in.
Dr. Son -- Eran, he said I had to start calling him by his first name now he wasn't my teacher -- sat in the little living room we had, and I caught him up a little on how I was doing. "I'm gonna apply for the assistant manager job at the bar," I said, "since Angela's leaving. That way I can do classes during the day; I want to get up to fluency in Spanish and Mandarin, they say I'm more 'marketable' then."
"Nice," Eran said, shoveling in another ham roll; I couldn't blame him, they were amazing. "Jeff, you're a bookkeeper?"
"Among other things," he said smoothly. "I do keep track of things at one of the local Buddhist temples."
"They're lucky to have you," I said. "Gen said they lost a ton of money before you."
"Sloppiness can cost an organization dearly," Ed said primly, and somehow he was talking about how I don't pick up enough of the dirty laundry, too. Typical Ed.
"I bet they--"
And then someone knocked on the door. No one ever comes by except Gen and the delivery guys, and I'd warned Ed to tell Gen to fuck off that night. The last thing I needed was him glaring at everything in sight. I nodded at Ed, and he got the door.
"I know you've got a guest, I’m just--"
"It's okay," Eran said, craning his neck from where he'd been sitting to take a look at Gen.
It was rainy as hell; Gen's head was still wet. The damp weather brought out how smoky his eyes were. "You asked for this as soon as I had it," he said, shoving a plastic bag at Ed. "So here it is."
I knew this song and dance; Gen did the 'I was just stopping by anyway, and I'm gonna pretend I'm surprised when you offer me food' deal all the time. But not when I had someone else, and when I'd told Ed to have him keep his distance. "Thanks," I said, getting up. "I'm sure you--"
And then Eran was past me, shaking Gen's hand, talking faster than he even did in class when he got to the good parts of the books. "Eran Son, pleasure to meet you. Come on in, I don't mind, I'm sure there's plenty of food...."
Now don't get me wrong; the first time I saw Ed I knew he was special. But I never saw anything like the way Gen and Eran looked at each other before. Hair or no hair, everybody checked out Gen; he was gorgeous, long eyelashes, pretty eyes, soft mouth. And for once he wasn't scowling; just looking at Eran, studying him, those smoky eyes holding Eran's as they shook hands. "Gen," he said.
Eran's face looked like it did when he talked about Shakespeare or James Baldwin.
"Ed made enough for an army," I said. "Come on, what the hell."
Gen ate the rest of the ham things, and the bottle of wine was half gone by the time Ed decided the stew was ready. "Where'd you guys meet again?" Eran asked, sliding into his place (I'd set a new one for Gen, at his right. I figured they'd just moon into each other's eyes all night if I sat them across from each other).
"Gen was the prison chaplain," Ed said. Twenty-five years older? Bothered the hell out of him. Ex-con? Oh, no problem, he'd tell anybody. "His chess games helped sustain me for many years."
"Chess, huh? I'm more of a Scrabble guy myself."
"I suck at Scrabble," Gen said with what almost looked like a chuckle.
I looked at Ed in panic. He'd chuckled. He said he sucked at something. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy, and what had he done with Gen? Ed looked as confused as I felt. I helped him get the stew dished in the kitchen. "What the hell--"
"I don't know," he hissed.
"He's never--"
"I'm not sure he's ever dated," he muttered back. "I'm not entirely sure he's allowed to."
"What the hell," I said. I'd known that having Dr. Son over for dinner would feel kind of weird, but I had no idea I'd end up in the damn Twilight Zone.
Ed shook his head.
They both liked the stew, anyway, and the bread Ed had made fresh that morning, and the green salad with the little mandarin oranges and toasted almond slices he insisted on toasting himself. (I'd never admit it, but they really did taste better when he did that.) Gen didn't chuckle again, but he still smiled more than I'd seen him smile in the almost three years I'd known him, and his usual stories of the stupidity of the monks were a little funnier and a little less vicious. Well, a little. "I said, you're twenty-six. You're from Manhattan. You're gay. I don't give a shit if you're renouncing the world, don't pretend you don't know who Lady Gaga is."
We opened a second bottle of wine over dessert (a souffle, of course, that Ed had fussed over like a little old lady), and Gen and Eran continued to flirt. I had a pretty nice buzz on by the time things wound down. "You have a car?" Gen asked. "I'll walk you out."
"I took the subway," Eran said. "We could--"
"Yeah," Gen said. "Sounds good."
Eran grinned at us like he'd just found the good prize in the bottom of the cereal box. "Thanks so much," he said. "Both of you. Such a great meal, and good company--" His eyes darted over to Gen. "I really appreciate it."
"We do hope you'll come back," Ed said. It was rare when he liked someone new so quickly. Eran loving his food probably helped. "Gen, are we still on for Tuesday?"
"Sure," Gen said, and I'd never seen him want to get out of a place so much before or since. "Thanks."
"You can both come," I said, sliding my arm back around Ed. "If you want."
They looked like they'd got their hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yeah," Eran said, as Gen said, "Sure," and then they finally got out of there, poor assholes. I half wanted to go out on the fire escape and see if I could tell if they were holding hands as they walked out.
"I hope we don't regret whatever it is we just did," Ed said.
"Yeah," I said, and gave his neck a kiss. "C'mon, let's go to bed."
"The dishes--"
I slid my hand down his back. "I'll get 'em in the morning, promise."
He sighed, but I knew I'd won then.
"Why should those two have all the fun, right?"
"I suppose you're right," he said, and off we went.
emungere. This one has much more Gen and Professor Son.
Ed always worried more about the age thing than I did. Shit, Ed worried more than I did anyway. "You told him," he asked for the millionth time, "that I'm older? Significantly so?"
"He doesn't care," I said. "And yeah, I told him. And he doesn't care. Nobody cares about that but you." I leaned in and kissed his neck. "Besides, if he did care, he wouldn't the second he smelled that stew."
He brightened up a little at that. "You think?"
"It smells fantastic," I said, and slid my arms around his waist. He could say what he wanted; most guys my age would still have killed for a body like his.
I nuzzled at his hair and he said, "Jeff, you don't want to feed your professor a stew that's burnt on the bottom, do you?"
I didn't care much at that point, but I knew I wouldn't get anywhere, so I settled for kissing the back of his ear and letting go. "You want me to set the table?"
"Do you think you can place the silverware correctly?"
I stuck my tongue out at him.
Don't get me wrong; I wanted to make a good impression. Dr. Son had been the one to recommend a tutor to me in the first place. Without that, I probably wouldn't have made it to graduation, much less have Ed in bed with me every night. I'd wanted to thank him for years, but Ed insisted it was 'more appropriate' to wait until I was done with school. So here we were, all nice and appropriate, with Ed cooking enough for the goddamned city when we were only having one guest, and looking like a fucking Hong Kong movie star. I wanted to bend him over the counter, but Dr. Son was coming in ten minutes, so I was a good boy and set the table instead.
He actually came in five minutes, with a bottle of wine. I'd never really seen him out of the classroom, where he usually wore a jacket and a loosely tied tie. He'd ditched the tie and jacket but was still wearing a nice shirt, dark purple, and his hair -- which was usually a disaster -- had been carefully combed into place.
I saw Ed inspect the label as he took the bottle, and it must've been a good brand, 'cause he smiled a little more. "Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to bring anything--"
"Least I could do," Dr. Son said, with his easy, friendly smile. Most people at the college thought he'd been a stoner back in the day, and now had so much pot in his system he was always mellow. I kind of figured it was just the way he was. "Smells great in here."
"I do aim to please," Ed said, and we let him in.
Dr. Son -- Eran, he said I had to start calling him by his first name now he wasn't my teacher -- sat in the little living room we had, and I caught him up a little on how I was doing. "I'm gonna apply for the assistant manager job at the bar," I said, "since Angela's leaving. That way I can do classes during the day; I want to get up to fluency in Spanish and Mandarin, they say I'm more 'marketable' then."
"Nice," Eran said, shoveling in another ham roll; I couldn't blame him, they were amazing. "Jeff, you're a bookkeeper?"
"Among other things," he said smoothly. "I do keep track of things at one of the local Buddhist temples."
"They're lucky to have you," I said. "Gen said they lost a ton of money before you."
"Sloppiness can cost an organization dearly," Ed said primly, and somehow he was talking about how I don't pick up enough of the dirty laundry, too. Typical Ed.
"I bet they--"
And then someone knocked on the door. No one ever comes by except Gen and the delivery guys, and I'd warned Ed to tell Gen to fuck off that night. The last thing I needed was him glaring at everything in sight. I nodded at Ed, and he got the door.
"I know you've got a guest, I’m just--"
"It's okay," Eran said, craning his neck from where he'd been sitting to take a look at Gen.
It was rainy as hell; Gen's head was still wet. The damp weather brought out how smoky his eyes were. "You asked for this as soon as I had it," he said, shoving a plastic bag at Ed. "So here it is."
I knew this song and dance; Gen did the 'I was just stopping by anyway, and I'm gonna pretend I'm surprised when you offer me food' deal all the time. But not when I had someone else, and when I'd told Ed to have him keep his distance. "Thanks," I said, getting up. "I'm sure you--"
And then Eran was past me, shaking Gen's hand, talking faster than he even did in class when he got to the good parts of the books. "Eran Son, pleasure to meet you. Come on in, I don't mind, I'm sure there's plenty of food...."
Now don't get me wrong; the first time I saw Ed I knew he was special. But I never saw anything like the way Gen and Eran looked at each other before. Hair or no hair, everybody checked out Gen; he was gorgeous, long eyelashes, pretty eyes, soft mouth. And for once he wasn't scowling; just looking at Eran, studying him, those smoky eyes holding Eran's as they shook hands. "Gen," he said.
Eran's face looked like it did when he talked about Shakespeare or James Baldwin.
"Ed made enough for an army," I said. "Come on, what the hell."
Gen ate the rest of the ham things, and the bottle of wine was half gone by the time Ed decided the stew was ready. "Where'd you guys meet again?" Eran asked, sliding into his place (I'd set a new one for Gen, at his right. I figured they'd just moon into each other's eyes all night if I sat them across from each other).
"Gen was the prison chaplain," Ed said. Twenty-five years older? Bothered the hell out of him. Ex-con? Oh, no problem, he'd tell anybody. "His chess games helped sustain me for many years."
"Chess, huh? I'm more of a Scrabble guy myself."
"I suck at Scrabble," Gen said with what almost looked like a chuckle.
I looked at Ed in panic. He'd chuckled. He said he sucked at something. What the hell was going on? Who was this guy, and what had he done with Gen? Ed looked as confused as I felt. I helped him get the stew dished in the kitchen. "What the hell--"
"I don't know," he hissed.
"He's never--"
"I'm not sure he's ever dated," he muttered back. "I'm not entirely sure he's allowed to."
"What the hell," I said. I'd known that having Dr. Son over for dinner would feel kind of weird, but I had no idea I'd end up in the damn Twilight Zone.
Ed shook his head.
They both liked the stew, anyway, and the bread Ed had made fresh that morning, and the green salad with the little mandarin oranges and toasted almond slices he insisted on toasting himself. (I'd never admit it, but they really did taste better when he did that.) Gen didn't chuckle again, but he still smiled more than I'd seen him smile in the almost three years I'd known him, and his usual stories of the stupidity of the monks were a little funnier and a little less vicious. Well, a little. "I said, you're twenty-six. You're from Manhattan. You're gay. I don't give a shit if you're renouncing the world, don't pretend you don't know who Lady Gaga is."
We opened a second bottle of wine over dessert (a souffle, of course, that Ed had fussed over like a little old lady), and Gen and Eran continued to flirt. I had a pretty nice buzz on by the time things wound down. "You have a car?" Gen asked. "I'll walk you out."
"I took the subway," Eran said. "We could--"
"Yeah," Gen said. "Sounds good."
Eran grinned at us like he'd just found the good prize in the bottom of the cereal box. "Thanks so much," he said. "Both of you. Such a great meal, and good company--" His eyes darted over to Gen. "I really appreciate it."
"We do hope you'll come back," Ed said. It was rare when he liked someone new so quickly. Eran loving his food probably helped. "Gen, are we still on for Tuesday?"
"Sure," Gen said, and I'd never seen him want to get out of a place so much before or since. "Thanks."
"You can both come," I said, sliding my arm back around Ed. "If you want."
They looked like they'd got their hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yeah," Eran said, as Gen said, "Sure," and then they finally got out of there, poor assholes. I half wanted to go out on the fire escape and see if I could tell if they were holding hands as they walked out.
"I hope we don't regret whatever it is we just did," Ed said.
"Yeah," I said, and gave his neck a kiss. "C'mon, let's go to bed."
"The dishes--"
I slid my hand down his back. "I'll get 'em in the morning, promise."
He sighed, but I knew I'd won then.
"Why should those two have all the fun, right?"
"I suppose you're right," he said, and off we went.