Entrapment, Gojyo/Hakkai, PG
Title: Entrapment
Author: cicer
Warnings: A vaguely suggestive sentence or two? Nothing dirty here, more's the pity.
Pairing(s): Implied Gojyo/Hakkai
Notes: Prompt #5: Addiction. 778 words. Took me 31 minutes, oops. This came out a bit sillier and more obscure than I'd intended.
The apartment was quiet. Gojyo sat on the dilapidated couch, fiddled with a magazine, and pretended to himself that he wasn’t waiting for anything. He brushed at a bit of fuzz clinging to a small rip in the couch’s upholstery and started out the window.
The moon had risen an hour ago; he guessed it was a little after nine. Hakkai had said he’d be home at nine-thirty, but he nearly always returned home early from his tutoring sessions with Goku. Gojyo drummed his fingers on the magazine. Any minute now...
He heard steps on the front porch. Gojyo flung himself back on the couch, hastily adopting a position of casual indifference. He opened the magazine, stared at it lazily, and did not look up when the door opened.
“Gojyo?” Hakkai’s voice called out. Gojyo heard the thump of a bag being set down and the rustle of Hakkai taking off his coat and boots. Gojyo stared fixedly at the magazine and forced himself not to answer.
“Gojyo?” Hakkai stepped into the room. Gojyo looked up from the magazine and attempted to pretend he hadn’t heard Hakkai come in.
“Oh, hey,” he said, smiling briefly before turning back to his magazine. He couldn’t help but notice that Hakkai didn’t look pleased, but didn’t let himself look Hakkai in the eye.
“Gojyo, you’ve left your boots right in the middle of the hall. They’re getting mud everywhere.” Hakkai sounded mildly irritated and Gojyo fought down a thrill of excitement. He struggled to keep his expression neutral.
“Oh, sorry,” he murmured, still studying the magazine intently. There was a brief silence.
Gojyo found himself counting his heartbeats, which suddenly seemed a little too loud to his own ears. Hakkai took hold of the magazine, closed it carefully, and put it on the table. Gojyo finally allowed himself to look up.
Hakkai looked as close to pissed-off as he ever did, and Gojyo had to bite his lip to remind himself to look disinterested.
“Gojyo. Please pick them up.” Hakkai smiled rather fixedly, and Gojyo found himself standing up without even thinking about it.
He had planned to draw it out a little more, to argue that there was nothing wrong with leaving his boots in the hall, but when faced with Hakkai standing in front of him, looking at him like that he couldn’t bring himself to prolong the charade.
He went to the hall, gathered up the dirty boots, and pushed them under the bench by the door. There was a dark streak of mud where the boots had been sitting; Gojyo sidestepped it and walked back to the couch. He sat down and busied himself with his magazine again.
Hakkai said nothing. Gojyo counted in his mind, one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, and turned the page so it would look like he was actually reading.
“Gojyo.” Hakkai’s voice made his stomach jump. “The mud.” Gojyo counted to three again before responding.
“Yeah?” He could almost hear Hakkai’s patience fraying. He rubbed his damp palms against his jeans and shifted into a more casual position on the couch.
“Clean it. Please.” Hakkai’s voice was clipped, the please snapped out so sharply it seemed he had almost considered not saying it. Forcing Hakkai to drop the pleasantries was quite an achievement; Gojyo had only managed it twice and it had involved making a considerably larger mess than a little mud on the floor.
Dropping the magazine, Gojyo got up, fetched a rag from the kitchen, and wiped up the mud in the hall. After a moment’s thought, he cleaned the bottoms of his boots, too. He didn’t speak, and neither did Hakkai. Gojyo forced himself not to think about Hakkai standing there, watching him scrub the floor on his hands and knees. He finished scrubbing and pushed the hair back from his face. He stood up.
Hakkai studied him with an inscrutable expression, and Gojyo couldn’t keep himself from smiling any longer. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, and hoped that Hakkai would misunderstand and think he was apologizing for leaving his boots on the floor. Hakkai continued to stare at him.
After a moment, Hakkai’s face relaxed, and he smiled back, briefly but sincerely. “Honestly, Gojyo. You’d think a grown man like yourself wouldn’t have so much trouble remembering to put his things away.” He picked up his bag, and turned into the kitchen. “What would you do if you didn’t have me here to remind you?”
Gojyo watched him go, and then dropped the rag and nudged it under the bench. “Who knows?” he murmured.
Hakkai didn’t seem to hear him, and Gojyo shuffled to the kitchen after him.
Author: cicer
Warnings: A vaguely suggestive sentence or two? Nothing dirty here, more's the pity.
Pairing(s): Implied Gojyo/Hakkai
Notes: Prompt #5: Addiction. 778 words. Took me 31 minutes, oops. This came out a bit sillier and more obscure than I'd intended.
The apartment was quiet. Gojyo sat on the dilapidated couch, fiddled with a magazine, and pretended to himself that he wasn’t waiting for anything. He brushed at a bit of fuzz clinging to a small rip in the couch’s upholstery and started out the window.
The moon had risen an hour ago; he guessed it was a little after nine. Hakkai had said he’d be home at nine-thirty, but he nearly always returned home early from his tutoring sessions with Goku. Gojyo drummed his fingers on the magazine. Any minute now...
He heard steps on the front porch. Gojyo flung himself back on the couch, hastily adopting a position of casual indifference. He opened the magazine, stared at it lazily, and did not look up when the door opened.
“Gojyo?” Hakkai’s voice called out. Gojyo heard the thump of a bag being set down and the rustle of Hakkai taking off his coat and boots. Gojyo stared fixedly at the magazine and forced himself not to answer.
“Gojyo?” Hakkai stepped into the room. Gojyo looked up from the magazine and attempted to pretend he hadn’t heard Hakkai come in.
“Oh, hey,” he said, smiling briefly before turning back to his magazine. He couldn’t help but notice that Hakkai didn’t look pleased, but didn’t let himself look Hakkai in the eye.
“Gojyo, you’ve left your boots right in the middle of the hall. They’re getting mud everywhere.” Hakkai sounded mildly irritated and Gojyo fought down a thrill of excitement. He struggled to keep his expression neutral.
“Oh, sorry,” he murmured, still studying the magazine intently. There was a brief silence.
Gojyo found himself counting his heartbeats, which suddenly seemed a little too loud to his own ears. Hakkai took hold of the magazine, closed it carefully, and put it on the table. Gojyo finally allowed himself to look up.
Hakkai looked as close to pissed-off as he ever did, and Gojyo had to bite his lip to remind himself to look disinterested.
“Gojyo. Please pick them up.” Hakkai smiled rather fixedly, and Gojyo found himself standing up without even thinking about it.
He had planned to draw it out a little more, to argue that there was nothing wrong with leaving his boots in the hall, but when faced with Hakkai standing in front of him, looking at him like that he couldn’t bring himself to prolong the charade.
He went to the hall, gathered up the dirty boots, and pushed them under the bench by the door. There was a dark streak of mud where the boots had been sitting; Gojyo sidestepped it and walked back to the couch. He sat down and busied himself with his magazine again.
Hakkai said nothing. Gojyo counted in his mind, one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, and turned the page so it would look like he was actually reading.
“Gojyo.” Hakkai’s voice made his stomach jump. “The mud.” Gojyo counted to three again before responding.
“Yeah?” He could almost hear Hakkai’s patience fraying. He rubbed his damp palms against his jeans and shifted into a more casual position on the couch.
“Clean it. Please.” Hakkai’s voice was clipped, the please snapped out so sharply it seemed he had almost considered not saying it. Forcing Hakkai to drop the pleasantries was quite an achievement; Gojyo had only managed it twice and it had involved making a considerably larger mess than a little mud on the floor.
Dropping the magazine, Gojyo got up, fetched a rag from the kitchen, and wiped up the mud in the hall. After a moment’s thought, he cleaned the bottoms of his boots, too. He didn’t speak, and neither did Hakkai. Gojyo forced himself not to think about Hakkai standing there, watching him scrub the floor on his hands and knees. He finished scrubbing and pushed the hair back from his face. He stood up.
Hakkai studied him with an inscrutable expression, and Gojyo couldn’t keep himself from smiling any longer. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, and hoped that Hakkai would misunderstand and think he was apologizing for leaving his boots on the floor. Hakkai continued to stare at him.
After a moment, Hakkai’s face relaxed, and he smiled back, briefly but sincerely. “Honestly, Gojyo. You’d think a grown man like yourself wouldn’t have so much trouble remembering to put his things away.” He picked up his bag, and turned into the kitchen. “What would you do if you didn’t have me here to remind you?”
Gojyo watched him go, and then dropped the rag and nudged it under the bench. “Who knows?” he murmured.
Hakkai didn’t seem to hear him, and Gojyo shuffled to the kitchen after him.