[fanfiction] - Addicted
Yay! More old fiction, and a sort-of continuation of the untitled fic I put up earlier. This is again gen, but with more obvious 58 hintings!
Title: Addicted
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairings: hakkaixgojyo / 85
Warnings: mild yaoi hintage, worksafe
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Disclaimer: saiyuki belongs not to purpleicicles, because if it did, she would be rich. Teh story be mine, however, and death shall pursue those who steal!
ADDICTED
Cigarettes. He knew Hakkai hated them. The smoke they made, the tar they left in your lungs, the nicotine dependence, the smell that hung around in fabric and skin for ages afterwards. Trouble was, Gojyo couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t any fun to get old, he’d remind Hakkai, who always reminded him that getting old means you get away with a lot of excesses. Especially if people think you’re senile.
That always made them laugh. Especially when they tried to bet on who’d go bald first. Hakkai was convinced it would be him, but to Gojyo a bald Hakkai was too funny, and often resulted in a spilt beer or a coughing fit. It was surprising how Hakkai could be so innocently witty, appealing but shocking in a weird way - but mostly just plain funny.
Somehow, though, he was more appealing when he wasn’t trying to be funny, when the mask slipped for a split second and he became the tragic beauty instead. Gojyo always insisted to himself that men shouldn’t be thought of in the way he thought of Hakkai, but something about Hakkai made him contrary to his own thoughts, sometimes. Like how at first, cleaning was something a bachelor like him categorically did not do, but became almost a delight when Hakkai announced a ‘spring clean’ or a ‘quick whip round the house’, with Hakkai wearing Gojyo’s older shirts which were too big and his trousers with the bottoms rolled up, and Gojyo wearing a vest top and a pirate-style bandanna to stop his hair from getting it dusty, because it was a pain to wash and comb afterwards.
He and Hakkai kind of became ‘bandanna brothers’ in the summer, when it was hot and sweaty. Bandannas always reminded Gojyo of when he got sick, feeling way too hot and bedridden for a fortnight, unable to sleep and tossing and turning in feverish half-dreams. He woke up to find Hakkai combing his hair once. Calmly lacing his fingers in to get rid of knots and brushing stray wisps smooth under his long, slender fingers. His look of quiet absorption was enrapturing in the dim light filtering through the thin curtains, and framed his face in a suffuse glow. Gojyo remembered thinking stupidly that he was an angel, and Hakkai needed his hair to weave new wings for himself. Later, Hakkai told him with that rueful half-smile that he had said to him to “use it all - it’ll grow back anyway.” Before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
Hakkai was one way or the other when he was asleep - painfully immersed in memories or in blissful ignorance of even who he really was. Sometimes, especially at the beginning, he would wake up with a half-sob half-choke that he would immediately stifle so as not to disturb Gojyo. Once, he woke up so frightened he stayed bolt upright, tears streaming down his face, totally unaware of anything. It frightened Gojyo too, who wiped the tears from the face of the beautiful man shaking and sobbing from half-remembered fears, and told him that it was okay, you’re awake. He leaned Hakkai into his shoulder, putting his arms around the smaller man, stroking his hair gently and whispering stupid half-promises about how he would protect him until the hiccups trailed off and the tear stains on his pyjama top had dried.
He had ended up sharing the bed with Hakkai that night. Mostly to keep Hakkai feeling safe. Partly because he wanted to, and because he enjoyed the comfortable feel of something warm next to him under the covers. Come morning, Hakkai was fully in his arms, cradled by his shoulders and framed by a delicate tangle of black and red hair. Half-embarrassed smiles and gentle manoeuvring when Hakkai woke up. A gentle stroke on the cheek, hands placed comfortably where they wouldn’t offend. Especially by Gojyo. They stared at each other for ages before Gojyo offered Hakkai some tea. A sheepish nod. He returned with breakfast; some cereal, toast and a crumpled pack of leftover digestives. Coffee for himself. Hakkai’s predilection for tea didn’t suit Gojyo’s taste - it was one of a few of Hakkai’s wonderful habits Gojyo preferred remained just Hakkai’s, so it didn’t extend to him like most of his other habits.
They propped the tray across their legs in the end, nestled under the covers together, enjoying breakfast in a comfortable silence. And then, without warning, gentle laughter. A chuckle that grew in Hakkai, infecting Gojyo until they were both laughing at themselves in such hysterics, Gojyo couldn’t find the breath to demand an explanation from Hakkai for it. Hakkai was leaning on him again; head on his shoulder, the natural cologne of his smell shaken from his tousled hair and rising up to Gojyo. He looked up with his one good eye, tears streaking his cheeks again, pink-faced and smiling as pleasantly as a child. Gojyo gently wiped the tears off, leaving behind crumbs and butter-grease that glistened strangely. He wiped his thumb across Hakkai’s lips, across the smile that became sticky and displaced with the movement but still caught in the last fits of laughter.
That was how it was for the longest time. Then, journey, west, madness. They left home on a mission, on a quest. Life changed forever. But every so often, there’s tidying or shopping or nightmares or breakfast, and it all falls back into place; and he’s still as addicted as ever.
crossposted to: 1000_miles_west and saiyukiyaoi
Title: Addicted
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairings: hakkaixgojyo / 85
Warnings: mild yaoi hintage, worksafe
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: saiyuki belongs not to purpleicicles, because if it did, she would be rich. Teh story be mine, however, and death shall pursue those who steal!
ADDICTED
Cigarettes. He knew Hakkai hated them. The smoke they made, the tar they left in your lungs, the nicotine dependence, the smell that hung around in fabric and skin for ages afterwards. Trouble was, Gojyo couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t any fun to get old, he’d remind Hakkai, who always reminded him that getting old means you get away with a lot of excesses. Especially if people think you’re senile.
That always made them laugh. Especially when they tried to bet on who’d go bald first. Hakkai was convinced it would be him, but to Gojyo a bald Hakkai was too funny, and often resulted in a spilt beer or a coughing fit. It was surprising how Hakkai could be so innocently witty, appealing but shocking in a weird way - but mostly just plain funny.
Somehow, though, he was more appealing when he wasn’t trying to be funny, when the mask slipped for a split second and he became the tragic beauty instead. Gojyo always insisted to himself that men shouldn’t be thought of in the way he thought of Hakkai, but something about Hakkai made him contrary to his own thoughts, sometimes. Like how at first, cleaning was something a bachelor like him categorically did not do, but became almost a delight when Hakkai announced a ‘spring clean’ or a ‘quick whip round the house’, with Hakkai wearing Gojyo’s older shirts which were too big and his trousers with the bottoms rolled up, and Gojyo wearing a vest top and a pirate-style bandanna to stop his hair from getting it dusty, because it was a pain to wash and comb afterwards.
He and Hakkai kind of became ‘bandanna brothers’ in the summer, when it was hot and sweaty. Bandannas always reminded Gojyo of when he got sick, feeling way too hot and bedridden for a fortnight, unable to sleep and tossing and turning in feverish half-dreams. He woke up to find Hakkai combing his hair once. Calmly lacing his fingers in to get rid of knots and brushing stray wisps smooth under his long, slender fingers. His look of quiet absorption was enrapturing in the dim light filtering through the thin curtains, and framed his face in a suffuse glow. Gojyo remembered thinking stupidly that he was an angel, and Hakkai needed his hair to weave new wings for himself. Later, Hakkai told him with that rueful half-smile that he had said to him to “use it all - it’ll grow back anyway.” Before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
Hakkai was one way or the other when he was asleep - painfully immersed in memories or in blissful ignorance of even who he really was. Sometimes, especially at the beginning, he would wake up with a half-sob half-choke that he would immediately stifle so as not to disturb Gojyo. Once, he woke up so frightened he stayed bolt upright, tears streaming down his face, totally unaware of anything. It frightened Gojyo too, who wiped the tears from the face of the beautiful man shaking and sobbing from half-remembered fears, and told him that it was okay, you’re awake. He leaned Hakkai into his shoulder, putting his arms around the smaller man, stroking his hair gently and whispering stupid half-promises about how he would protect him until the hiccups trailed off and the tear stains on his pyjama top had dried.
He had ended up sharing the bed with Hakkai that night. Mostly to keep Hakkai feeling safe. Partly because he wanted to, and because he enjoyed the comfortable feel of something warm next to him under the covers. Come morning, Hakkai was fully in his arms, cradled by his shoulders and framed by a delicate tangle of black and red hair. Half-embarrassed smiles and gentle manoeuvring when Hakkai woke up. A gentle stroke on the cheek, hands placed comfortably where they wouldn’t offend. Especially by Gojyo. They stared at each other for ages before Gojyo offered Hakkai some tea. A sheepish nod. He returned with breakfast; some cereal, toast and a crumpled pack of leftover digestives. Coffee for himself. Hakkai’s predilection for tea didn’t suit Gojyo’s taste - it was one of a few of Hakkai’s wonderful habits Gojyo preferred remained just Hakkai’s, so it didn’t extend to him like most of his other habits.
They propped the tray across their legs in the end, nestled under the covers together, enjoying breakfast in a comfortable silence. And then, without warning, gentle laughter. A chuckle that grew in Hakkai, infecting Gojyo until they were both laughing at themselves in such hysterics, Gojyo couldn’t find the breath to demand an explanation from Hakkai for it. Hakkai was leaning on him again; head on his shoulder, the natural cologne of his smell shaken from his tousled hair and rising up to Gojyo. He looked up with his one good eye, tears streaking his cheeks again, pink-faced and smiling as pleasantly as a child. Gojyo gently wiped the tears off, leaving behind crumbs and butter-grease that glistened strangely. He wiped his thumb across Hakkai’s lips, across the smile that became sticky and displaced with the movement but still caught in the last fits of laughter.
That was how it was for the longest time. Then, journey, west, madness. They left home on a mission, on a quest. Life changed forever. But every so often, there’s tidying or shopping or nightmares or breakfast, and it all falls back into place; and he’s still as addicted as ever.
crossposted to: 1000_miles_west and saiyukiyaoi