[fic] Balloons 16
Oct. 28th, 2010 10:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Balloons
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
Sigh. Internet trouble continue. :(
Betaed bykispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!
St Pancras was busy as usual. Goku clung to Gojyo’s elbow as they made their way past the door, listening intently to Dug’s breathing as they walked.
“Hey, don’t you have a white stick?” Gojyo asked, a question that, when voiced, turned all of their heads. “I thought you’re required to carry one.”
Goku blinked. “No, I don’t think so. I broke mine, in any case.”
“You broke it?”
“Before I got Dug. I went out, some kid tried to rob me. I think I broke it on his head.” Goku shrugged. “I prefer walking with Dug, anyway.”
“Good call, I’m sure.”
Sanzo barely listened. Being back home, on familiar territory, nothing seemed as important as getting back to his place and sorting out this mess to his satisfaction, that was until all responsible were dead. He all but ran through the station, dragging the blind guy behind him and dived into the first black cab incautious enough to stop.
“Get the fuck in and stop wasting my time,” he said in response to Gojyo and Hakkai’s milling about at the kerb. “I have to make some phone calls.”
“What kind of phone calls?” Hakkai asked, when they joined the traffic.
“My lawyers. Then the police.”
“I hate lawyers,” Gojyo groused.
“They have their uses.”
“I don’t have a lawyer,” Goku said. He’d been a little down ever since they got out of the Eurostar. “I don’t think I even know one.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sanzo reached out to pet Dug.
The ride was swift. Sanzo dropped a tenner into the driver’s outstretched hand and hustled his party out of the cab. The keys to his apartment were still in the zipped pocket of the leather jacket he stole from the vampire shindig, and the locks hadn’t been changed.
As it turned out, they were the only things that hadn’t.
Sanzo’s mouth opened when he beheld his apartment. There was a carpet on the corridor floor, starting three feet from the door. The windows in the room to the right were decorated with a sensible curtain, and there was a rug on the wooden floor to match. The kitchen hadn’t changed much, though a small table and a couple of chairs had mysteriously sprung up. The wall over them bore suspicious traces of fresh paint.
“What the fuck?” Sanzo managed, before his legs took over and hurried him to his living room. His desk was gone, along with the cheap, plastic chair. The rolled-up futon was gone, too. A glance to the left revealed, through the half-open door, that the bedroom was in favour again, boasting a low, giant bed, fluffy pillows and two downy comforters.
In the middle of the living room there were a couple of armchairs, one of which was occupied.
“Well, it looks better,” Gojyo said, as he pulled aside the curtain. “By which I mean, wow, dude. This appartment finally looks liveable!”
“Thank you,” said a voice. “May I interest you in some coffee?”
“Ukoku, what the fuck?” Sanzo asked, coming round the new furniture.
“I would love a coffee,” Gojyo said raising his hand. Hakkai nodded. Ukoku got up and made his way to the kitchen.
“Would you like anything?” he asked Goku as he passed.
“Hm? Oh, tea would be great. With milk and sugar, please.”
“Ukoku!” But there was no use in yelling. Ukoku returned minutes later with a wide tray Sanzo could swear he’d never owned, on which he’d arranged five cups and a bowl.
“Water, for your dog,” he said handing Goku the bowl. “Now, let’s to business.” How Sanzo hated the smug motherfucker. How he longed to punch the grin off his face.
“Hey, you are a little familiar.” Gojyo plopped down on the couch. “You mind? Or is this private?”
“Clearly, you have your part in these events. Be my guests. Or rather Sanzo’s.” Ukoku smiled in a chilly, menacing way, one common to truly magnificent lawyers. “And yes, we have met.”
“Koumyou’s funeral,” Hakkai said unexpectedly.
“Indeed.”
“He was Koumyou’s lawyer,” Sanzo explained to Goku. “What do you want?”
“I’m here for the reading of an addendum to the will,” Ukoku said opening his laptop. “I shall let Koumyou do the honours.”
Sanzo started at the words and stared at the screen in disbelief. It was, without doubt, Koumyou -- impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, even if his face was wan, belying the rich aura he exuded. “My dear Sanzo,” he said. “I think you are being overdramatic.”
In the stunned silence that followed only Gojyo dared to open his mouth. “Well, duh,” he said, then fell silent again as Hakkai gripped his arm.
“There is such a thing as reasonable grief and by no means would I take that away from you. However you need to set yourself a limit. A month may not be enough, half a year is plenty to venture outside for reasons other than fresh beer, a year of rememberance, should I be so lucky... But two years is beyond even the most reasonable limits.
“I feel it is my duty to ensure you don’t wallow in your very flattering despair for too long, hence this arrangement.” Koumyou leaned forward in his chair. “I shan’t bother you with the details of my will here, as I’m sure you remember that there was a trust fund, in my name, that I left for my good friend Ukoku to manage. I know you well enough that burdening you with even more money than you already have wouldn’t produce any beneficial results whatsoever. I have therefore requested that the funds be used for…” Koumyou raised a brow at something behind the camera, bit his lip as though to hold in a laugh, and continued, “shock therapy, of sorts.
“There are details to be sorted out, making allowances for future hindrances and, god forbid, wars or other minor inconveniences, details that I’m certain Ukoku will manage on my behalf.” Koumyou paused again and closed his eyes. Sanzo didn’t dare to breathe. The light coming in from the window suggested the video had been shot in November, which meant that the cancer had been spreading like wildfire, sprouting a new branch with every spoken word. This couldn’t have been longer than a month before Koumyou’s death.
“Again, I shan’t bore you with things that you already know, Sanzo. You know it best yourself: you are young and an isolated living room is not the place to spend your youth in. Let me say this instead: do not bore me.” The video ended on a smile Koumyou had perfected in their years together -- a slow, pleased smile that hid his tremendous intellect and sharp wit.
“Wait a goddamned minute,” Gojyo said sitting up straight. “Are you telling me this whole thing, Venezueala, the jungles, balloons, vampires and everything, all that was just to get Sanzo out of his funk?”
“Indeed, you may say that.” Ukoku stretched in the chair. His grin gained a feral quality.
At Sanzo’s side Goku blinked. “So you pulled all of this just to play a prank on Sanzo? That’s…”
Sanzo finally found his voice. “Despicable!”
“I was gonna say awesome, but if that works better,” Goku said.
“What?”
“What what?”
“Despicable is the opposite of awesome.”
“Oh.”
“You- You think it was awesome?”
Goku’s bright eyes turned to him and his hand reached out to find Sanzo’s. “I think it’s great. It helped you, didn’t it?”
“Helped me what, lose my nonexistent trust in lawyers? How long did it take to plan this out, huh?”
“Surprisingly enough,” Ukoku said, “The most difficult part was finding a decent veterinarian who would be willing to drop everything he was doing and come, should his services prove necessary, at a moment’s notice. Once we secured such services, the rest was a breeze.”
Goku perked up. “For Dug?”
“Naturally. It wouldn’t do to cause any harm.”
“Tell that to my shoulder.”
“Ah, that was unfortunate, I admit. It would have been much better if you had let go.”
“And splatter myself evenly on the floor of that cliff?”
Ukoku smiled, again. Sanzo trusted the smile no more than he would trust his wellbeing to a flock of piranhas. “Please. There would be no point in arranging a drop-off at the side of a cliff had there been no team to provide safe landing at the bottom.”
“I am most impressed,” Hakkai said. He was sitting on the couch, prim and proper, with hands folded in his lap, but his eyes never left Ukoku.
Gojyo raised a brow. “Gotta say, I see the resemblance. Are you two in any way related? Made your vows to honour Satan together, or something?”
“What about their jobs?” Sanzo said folding his hands. Inside he tried to seethe, but the inner furnace was doused with warm and mushy substances whenever Goku’s fingers brushed his hand. “We’ve been gone for weeks.”
“Twenty-two days, to be exact. There are arrangements for all financial repercussions, naturally. All appropriate accounts had been credited with reimbursement for time and money spent. In addition, Mr Sha’s employer graciously allowed him the leave, and Mr Cho disappeared mere days before the school year ended. Arranging a substitute was child’s play. As for Mr Son, Mr Homura was gracious enough to speak with the volunteer centre on his behalf.
“Now, I would be most grateful if you chose to sign these forms,” he added, opening his briefcase, putting away the laptop and setting four stacks of documents on the coffee table, along with four mobile phones, three of which Sanzo recognised as belonging to himself, Hakkai and Gojyo.
“What are they?”
“Mere formalities. A consent form for all necessary activities you have participated in.”
“If we don’t sign?” Sanzo challenged without even thinking about it. Challenging had been his modus operandi for far too long.
“I have no intention of forcing you and as your lawyer I would advise you to go to trial and demand compensation. Of course,” Ukoku grinned, “you would have to file the suit against me, as the true perpetrator is dead, and that could lead to a conflict of interest.”
Goku was the first to ask for a pen. “I had a lot of fun,” he said to Sanzo. “I’m happy you included me.”
“Whoah, kid! Don’t sign anything you can’t read.” Gojyo pulled the paper out of Goku’s hands and skimmed it. “Looks okay.”
“Of course. Koumyou’s will made a requisite of your legal and factual security.”
When the pen circulated his way, Sanzo signed the forms without so much as a glance. He almost smiled at the lopsided “Goku Son” along the dotted line. It curved into half a smiley face, whose eyes were made up of the words “sign here”.
“What’s Homura got to do with all this?” Sanzo asked when Ukoku collected the papers.
“We knew you are acquainted and since he is a very influential man, we asked whether he’d be interested in helping us out. Of course, when he heard Mr Son was involved, his interest grew… exponentially.” Ukoku took a sip of his coffee. Sanzo hid a growl in his own cup. The coffee smelled like ground dollar signs. He had to wonder if a new coffee machine had made its way into his kitchen. “Mr Son’s condition presented something of a problem, as well as minute rearrangements, but I rather think this worked out for the best, don’t you?”
Sanzo turned away. “You were in on it?” he asked, because what else could he ask? There was not enough fear or worry to indicate otherwise, even if his own mind rebelled at the thought, both on Goku’s and his own behalf.
“No! Why would I be in on this, I barely knew you!” Dug howled and Sanzo felt a tiny, little sliver of hope that hatched into his insides and bloomed.
“Well, that would be all, then,” Ukoku said.
“What about the flat?” Sanzo asked, already detached from the proceedings.
“Complimentary refurbishment, courtesy of the dearly departed Koumyou. He had the arrangements made shortly before he died.” Ukoku got up. “Such a pleasure working with you. Please relay my regards to you aunt. You know where to find me, should that prove necessary.” He was out the door before Sanzo had the chance to utter a syllable.
“Wow,” Gojyo said. “I mean, wow.”
“Koumyou had, shall we say, vision.” Hakkai twirled his cup absent-mindedly. “I admire him for it. In any case, I think we should leave,” he said standing up.
“What, now?”
“Yes, now. We will see you tomorrow, Goku, Sanzo.”
Sanzo barely registered them leaving. There were the tell-tale sounds of numbers being punched into phones and then the door shut. It was only when Goku collected Dug’s bowl, washed it and started muttering his goodbyes that he awoke from his daze. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “There ought to be food in the fridge, for you and the mutt: the fucker likes to plan.”
Goku didn’t say anything, but Sanzo felt the couch dip beside him, so close that he felt the weight against his side. “I haven’t had a couch in over two years,” he said for want of something to say and then Goku kissed him.
“I’m gonna go home now,” Goku said when they broke apart. “But I’ll be in the park tomorrow morning, okay?” Dug bounced onto the couch to lick Sanzo’s cheek and then they were gone.
Sanzo didn’t sleep well that night. He lay awake on the couch for most of the night, staring at the ceiling, the last empty space in his flat. The city lights cast shadows on the furniture, strange, fleeting shadows danced across the ceiling. He dozed off now and then, waking finally when dawn coloured the room. He stayed where he was until his mobile phone chimed.
Then he got up and went jogging.
******
Goku’s toothpaste was precariously balanced, hanging from the rim of the glass. Sanzo watched it out of the corner of his eye. It hadn’t been here long, or Goku would have learned to put it in properly -- Sanzo’d seen Goku master the use of the dishwasher and the utensil cabinet in the past few weeks. All he needed was a certain amount of time, repetition and the compulsive need to have everything in its proper place.
Sanzo looked towards the ceiling.
He had always thought he was gifted with words. He had a witty riposte for every occasion, many that didn’t warrant one and then some, but a true gift would have to be broader, wouldn’t it? A true gift for words would mean he could voice all his emotions and doubts and feelings, name and present them so that anyone could understand. How was it then that the mess in his head was a heap of maroon and purple, with occasional flashes of gold, and ringing of bells?
“Sanzo? Are you okay?” Goku asked from the other side of the bathroom door.
“I’m fine. Go to bed.” Sanzo straightened his legs, and banged his head against the bathtub. This was idiotic. What was he doing, to begin with? Hiding in the bathroom. Why? Fuck him if he knew.
Well, that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Sex with Koumyou had been slow like molasses and about as passionate as the mating of elephants. It had been satisfying in its way, though less as an answer to hormonal storms and more a pleasurable pastime. Having sex with Goku was probbly going to be more like trying to put out a man on fire. There would be no clear picture of what was going on, but there would be heat and a lot more limbs than he would expect to find and a whole lot of the fire refusing to be controlled, refusing to die, instead burning all the hotter with every touch.
Sanzo had felt the flames spreading as soon as he kissed Goku, every single time, but it wasn’t until they got into a state of partial undress that his inner control freak had panicked, hence his current position on the bathroom floor.
“What?” he asked Dug, who made it inside before he slammed the door.
Dug whined.
“Shut up.” His heartbeat was slowly returning to normal. Soon he’d be able to walk out of the bathroom and maybe not panic at the mere thought of taking off his clothes. Maybe. Perhaps. Hopefully.
Dug gave him a soul-searching look.
“I can,” Sanzo growled at him. “Shut up.” It was never a question of getting it up, that he could manage without resorting to outside help. He was barely thirty, for fuck’s sake, and Goku was so hot even the memory of him was enough. No, the trouble here was far more delicate and depressing. If he had been a little more prone to introspection and poetics, Sanzo thought ironically, or little more inclined to analyse his motives, he would have thought he was the very picture of a Victorian blushing bride on her wedding night. It was a good thing he wasn’t.
It took another couple of minutes, but eventually he got up and opened the door. Goku wasn’t there. This was good, and meant that he had an additional moment to compose himself. Dutch courage crossed his mind, but he disregarded it. He’d rather remember sex, things usually worked out better that way. Very slowly, step-by-step, he made his way into the bedroom.
Goku was on the bed, wearing pyjamas with a very juvenile print. His fingers were tracing the cover of a novel Sanzo must have bought at one point, but never got round to reading.
“Read to me?” Goku asked, holding out the book.
Sanzo didn’t say anything. He got onto the bed, piling the fluffy pillows high against the wall. Goku snuggled close to him, resting his head on Sanzo’s shoulder. His hair smelled of shampoo and freshly washed clothes. Sanzo wasn’t certain this was better than sex, but tonight -- just tonight -- it was enough.
“Murders tended to happen in pairs,” he started. “Even when serial killers were scarce on the ground, whenever someone in the city decided that there was this one person they couldn’t bear to see on God’s green Earth again, someone else would inevitably come to the same conclusion, about someone else…”
THE END
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
Sigh. Internet trouble continue. :(
Betaed by
kispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!St Pancras was busy as usual. Goku clung to Gojyo’s elbow as they made their way past the door, listening intently to Dug’s breathing as they walked.
“Hey, don’t you have a white stick?” Gojyo asked, a question that, when voiced, turned all of their heads. “I thought you’re required to carry one.”
Goku blinked. “No, I don’t think so. I broke mine, in any case.”
“You broke it?”
“Before I got Dug. I went out, some kid tried to rob me. I think I broke it on his head.” Goku shrugged. “I prefer walking with Dug, anyway.”
“Good call, I’m sure.”
Sanzo barely listened. Being back home, on familiar territory, nothing seemed as important as getting back to his place and sorting out this mess to his satisfaction, that was until all responsible were dead. He all but ran through the station, dragging the blind guy behind him and dived into the first black cab incautious enough to stop.
“Get the fuck in and stop wasting my time,” he said in response to Gojyo and Hakkai’s milling about at the kerb. “I have to make some phone calls.”
“What kind of phone calls?” Hakkai asked, when they joined the traffic.
“My lawyers. Then the police.”
“I hate lawyers,” Gojyo groused.
“They have their uses.”
“I don’t have a lawyer,” Goku said. He’d been a little down ever since they got out of the Eurostar. “I don’t think I even know one.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sanzo reached out to pet Dug.
The ride was swift. Sanzo dropped a tenner into the driver’s outstretched hand and hustled his party out of the cab. The keys to his apartment were still in the zipped pocket of the leather jacket he stole from the vampire shindig, and the locks hadn’t been changed.
As it turned out, they were the only things that hadn’t.
Sanzo’s mouth opened when he beheld his apartment. There was a carpet on the corridor floor, starting three feet from the door. The windows in the room to the right were decorated with a sensible curtain, and there was a rug on the wooden floor to match. The kitchen hadn’t changed much, though a small table and a couple of chairs had mysteriously sprung up. The wall over them bore suspicious traces of fresh paint.
“What the fuck?” Sanzo managed, before his legs took over and hurried him to his living room. His desk was gone, along with the cheap, plastic chair. The rolled-up futon was gone, too. A glance to the left revealed, through the half-open door, that the bedroom was in favour again, boasting a low, giant bed, fluffy pillows and two downy comforters.
In the middle of the living room there were a couple of armchairs, one of which was occupied.
“Well, it looks better,” Gojyo said, as he pulled aside the curtain. “By which I mean, wow, dude. This appartment finally looks liveable!”
“Thank you,” said a voice. “May I interest you in some coffee?”
“Ukoku, what the fuck?” Sanzo asked, coming round the new furniture.
“I would love a coffee,” Gojyo said raising his hand. Hakkai nodded. Ukoku got up and made his way to the kitchen.
“Would you like anything?” he asked Goku as he passed.
“Hm? Oh, tea would be great. With milk and sugar, please.”
“Ukoku!” But there was no use in yelling. Ukoku returned minutes later with a wide tray Sanzo could swear he’d never owned, on which he’d arranged five cups and a bowl.
“Water, for your dog,” he said handing Goku the bowl. “Now, let’s to business.” How Sanzo hated the smug motherfucker. How he longed to punch the grin off his face.
“Hey, you are a little familiar.” Gojyo plopped down on the couch. “You mind? Or is this private?”
“Clearly, you have your part in these events. Be my guests. Or rather Sanzo’s.” Ukoku smiled in a chilly, menacing way, one common to truly magnificent lawyers. “And yes, we have met.”
“Koumyou’s funeral,” Hakkai said unexpectedly.
“Indeed.”
“He was Koumyou’s lawyer,” Sanzo explained to Goku. “What do you want?”
“I’m here for the reading of an addendum to the will,” Ukoku said opening his laptop. “I shall let Koumyou do the honours.”
Sanzo started at the words and stared at the screen in disbelief. It was, without doubt, Koumyou -- impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, even if his face was wan, belying the rich aura he exuded. “My dear Sanzo,” he said. “I think you are being overdramatic.”
In the stunned silence that followed only Gojyo dared to open his mouth. “Well, duh,” he said, then fell silent again as Hakkai gripped his arm.
“There is such a thing as reasonable grief and by no means would I take that away from you. However you need to set yourself a limit. A month may not be enough, half a year is plenty to venture outside for reasons other than fresh beer, a year of rememberance, should I be so lucky... But two years is beyond even the most reasonable limits.
“I feel it is my duty to ensure you don’t wallow in your very flattering despair for too long, hence this arrangement.” Koumyou leaned forward in his chair. “I shan’t bother you with the details of my will here, as I’m sure you remember that there was a trust fund, in my name, that I left for my good friend Ukoku to manage. I know you well enough that burdening you with even more money than you already have wouldn’t produce any beneficial results whatsoever. I have therefore requested that the funds be used for…” Koumyou raised a brow at something behind the camera, bit his lip as though to hold in a laugh, and continued, “shock therapy, of sorts.
“There are details to be sorted out, making allowances for future hindrances and, god forbid, wars or other minor inconveniences, details that I’m certain Ukoku will manage on my behalf.” Koumyou paused again and closed his eyes. Sanzo didn’t dare to breathe. The light coming in from the window suggested the video had been shot in November, which meant that the cancer had been spreading like wildfire, sprouting a new branch with every spoken word. This couldn’t have been longer than a month before Koumyou’s death.
“Again, I shan’t bore you with things that you already know, Sanzo. You know it best yourself: you are young and an isolated living room is not the place to spend your youth in. Let me say this instead: do not bore me.” The video ended on a smile Koumyou had perfected in their years together -- a slow, pleased smile that hid his tremendous intellect and sharp wit.
“Wait a goddamned minute,” Gojyo said sitting up straight. “Are you telling me this whole thing, Venezueala, the jungles, balloons, vampires and everything, all that was just to get Sanzo out of his funk?”
“Indeed, you may say that.” Ukoku stretched in the chair. His grin gained a feral quality.
At Sanzo’s side Goku blinked. “So you pulled all of this just to play a prank on Sanzo? That’s…”
Sanzo finally found his voice. “Despicable!”
“I was gonna say awesome, but if that works better,” Goku said.
“What?”
“What what?”
“Despicable is the opposite of awesome.”
“Oh.”
“You- You think it was awesome?”
Goku’s bright eyes turned to him and his hand reached out to find Sanzo’s. “I think it’s great. It helped you, didn’t it?”
“Helped me what, lose my nonexistent trust in lawyers? How long did it take to plan this out, huh?”
“Surprisingly enough,” Ukoku said, “The most difficult part was finding a decent veterinarian who would be willing to drop everything he was doing and come, should his services prove necessary, at a moment’s notice. Once we secured such services, the rest was a breeze.”
Goku perked up. “For Dug?”
“Naturally. It wouldn’t do to cause any harm.”
“Tell that to my shoulder.”
“Ah, that was unfortunate, I admit. It would have been much better if you had let go.”
“And splatter myself evenly on the floor of that cliff?”
Ukoku smiled, again. Sanzo trusted the smile no more than he would trust his wellbeing to a flock of piranhas. “Please. There would be no point in arranging a drop-off at the side of a cliff had there been no team to provide safe landing at the bottom.”
“I am most impressed,” Hakkai said. He was sitting on the couch, prim and proper, with hands folded in his lap, but his eyes never left Ukoku.
Gojyo raised a brow. “Gotta say, I see the resemblance. Are you two in any way related? Made your vows to honour Satan together, or something?”
“What about their jobs?” Sanzo said folding his hands. Inside he tried to seethe, but the inner furnace was doused with warm and mushy substances whenever Goku’s fingers brushed his hand. “We’ve been gone for weeks.”
“Twenty-two days, to be exact. There are arrangements for all financial repercussions, naturally. All appropriate accounts had been credited with reimbursement for time and money spent. In addition, Mr Sha’s employer graciously allowed him the leave, and Mr Cho disappeared mere days before the school year ended. Arranging a substitute was child’s play. As for Mr Son, Mr Homura was gracious enough to speak with the volunteer centre on his behalf.
“Now, I would be most grateful if you chose to sign these forms,” he added, opening his briefcase, putting away the laptop and setting four stacks of documents on the coffee table, along with four mobile phones, three of which Sanzo recognised as belonging to himself, Hakkai and Gojyo.
“What are they?”
“Mere formalities. A consent form for all necessary activities you have participated in.”
“If we don’t sign?” Sanzo challenged without even thinking about it. Challenging had been his modus operandi for far too long.
“I have no intention of forcing you and as your lawyer I would advise you to go to trial and demand compensation. Of course,” Ukoku grinned, “you would have to file the suit against me, as the true perpetrator is dead, and that could lead to a conflict of interest.”
Goku was the first to ask for a pen. “I had a lot of fun,” he said to Sanzo. “I’m happy you included me.”
“Whoah, kid! Don’t sign anything you can’t read.” Gojyo pulled the paper out of Goku’s hands and skimmed it. “Looks okay.”
“Of course. Koumyou’s will made a requisite of your legal and factual security.”
When the pen circulated his way, Sanzo signed the forms without so much as a glance. He almost smiled at the lopsided “Goku Son” along the dotted line. It curved into half a smiley face, whose eyes were made up of the words “sign here”.
“What’s Homura got to do with all this?” Sanzo asked when Ukoku collected the papers.
“We knew you are acquainted and since he is a very influential man, we asked whether he’d be interested in helping us out. Of course, when he heard Mr Son was involved, his interest grew… exponentially.” Ukoku took a sip of his coffee. Sanzo hid a growl in his own cup. The coffee smelled like ground dollar signs. He had to wonder if a new coffee machine had made its way into his kitchen. “Mr Son’s condition presented something of a problem, as well as minute rearrangements, but I rather think this worked out for the best, don’t you?”
Sanzo turned away. “You were in on it?” he asked, because what else could he ask? There was not enough fear or worry to indicate otherwise, even if his own mind rebelled at the thought, both on Goku’s and his own behalf.
“No! Why would I be in on this, I barely knew you!” Dug howled and Sanzo felt a tiny, little sliver of hope that hatched into his insides and bloomed.
“Well, that would be all, then,” Ukoku said.
“What about the flat?” Sanzo asked, already detached from the proceedings.
“Complimentary refurbishment, courtesy of the dearly departed Koumyou. He had the arrangements made shortly before he died.” Ukoku got up. “Such a pleasure working with you. Please relay my regards to you aunt. You know where to find me, should that prove necessary.” He was out the door before Sanzo had the chance to utter a syllable.
“Wow,” Gojyo said. “I mean, wow.”
“Koumyou had, shall we say, vision.” Hakkai twirled his cup absent-mindedly. “I admire him for it. In any case, I think we should leave,” he said standing up.
“What, now?”
“Yes, now. We will see you tomorrow, Goku, Sanzo.”
Sanzo barely registered them leaving. There were the tell-tale sounds of numbers being punched into phones and then the door shut. It was only when Goku collected Dug’s bowl, washed it and started muttering his goodbyes that he awoke from his daze. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “There ought to be food in the fridge, for you and the mutt: the fucker likes to plan.”
Goku didn’t say anything, but Sanzo felt the couch dip beside him, so close that he felt the weight against his side. “I haven’t had a couch in over two years,” he said for want of something to say and then Goku kissed him.
“I’m gonna go home now,” Goku said when they broke apart. “But I’ll be in the park tomorrow morning, okay?” Dug bounced onto the couch to lick Sanzo’s cheek and then they were gone.
Sanzo didn’t sleep well that night. He lay awake on the couch for most of the night, staring at the ceiling, the last empty space in his flat. The city lights cast shadows on the furniture, strange, fleeting shadows danced across the ceiling. He dozed off now and then, waking finally when dawn coloured the room. He stayed where he was until his mobile phone chimed.
Then he got up and went jogging.
******
Goku’s toothpaste was precariously balanced, hanging from the rim of the glass. Sanzo watched it out of the corner of his eye. It hadn’t been here long, or Goku would have learned to put it in properly -- Sanzo’d seen Goku master the use of the dishwasher and the utensil cabinet in the past few weeks. All he needed was a certain amount of time, repetition and the compulsive need to have everything in its proper place.
Sanzo looked towards the ceiling.
He had always thought he was gifted with words. He had a witty riposte for every occasion, many that didn’t warrant one and then some, but a true gift would have to be broader, wouldn’t it? A true gift for words would mean he could voice all his emotions and doubts and feelings, name and present them so that anyone could understand. How was it then that the mess in his head was a heap of maroon and purple, with occasional flashes of gold, and ringing of bells?
“Sanzo? Are you okay?” Goku asked from the other side of the bathroom door.
“I’m fine. Go to bed.” Sanzo straightened his legs, and banged his head against the bathtub. This was idiotic. What was he doing, to begin with? Hiding in the bathroom. Why? Fuck him if he knew.
Well, that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Sex with Koumyou had been slow like molasses and about as passionate as the mating of elephants. It had been satisfying in its way, though less as an answer to hormonal storms and more a pleasurable pastime. Having sex with Goku was probbly going to be more like trying to put out a man on fire. There would be no clear picture of what was going on, but there would be heat and a lot more limbs than he would expect to find and a whole lot of the fire refusing to be controlled, refusing to die, instead burning all the hotter with every touch.
Sanzo had felt the flames spreading as soon as he kissed Goku, every single time, but it wasn’t until they got into a state of partial undress that his inner control freak had panicked, hence his current position on the bathroom floor.
“What?” he asked Dug, who made it inside before he slammed the door.
Dug whined.
“Shut up.” His heartbeat was slowly returning to normal. Soon he’d be able to walk out of the bathroom and maybe not panic at the mere thought of taking off his clothes. Maybe. Perhaps. Hopefully.
Dug gave him a soul-searching look.
“I can,” Sanzo growled at him. “Shut up.” It was never a question of getting it up, that he could manage without resorting to outside help. He was barely thirty, for fuck’s sake, and Goku was so hot even the memory of him was enough. No, the trouble here was far more delicate and depressing. If he had been a little more prone to introspection and poetics, Sanzo thought ironically, or little more inclined to analyse his motives, he would have thought he was the very picture of a Victorian blushing bride on her wedding night. It was a good thing he wasn’t.
It took another couple of minutes, but eventually he got up and opened the door. Goku wasn’t there. This was good, and meant that he had an additional moment to compose himself. Dutch courage crossed his mind, but he disregarded it. He’d rather remember sex, things usually worked out better that way. Very slowly, step-by-step, he made his way into the bedroom.
Goku was on the bed, wearing pyjamas with a very juvenile print. His fingers were tracing the cover of a novel Sanzo must have bought at one point, but never got round to reading.
“Read to me?” Goku asked, holding out the book.
Sanzo didn’t say anything. He got onto the bed, piling the fluffy pillows high against the wall. Goku snuggled close to him, resting his head on Sanzo’s shoulder. His hair smelled of shampoo and freshly washed clothes. Sanzo wasn’t certain this was better than sex, but tonight -- just tonight -- it was enough.
“Murders tended to happen in pairs,” he started. “Even when serial killers were scarce on the ground, whenever someone in the city decided that there was this one person they couldn’t bear to see on God’s green Earth again, someone else would inevitably come to the same conclusion, about someone else…”
THE END
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Date: 2010-10-29 04:20 am (UTC)Wonderful story! I loveloveLOVE the ending! How sneaky of Koumyou to have planned the whole thing! And I love that he knew Sanzo that well, and wanted to help set him free.
I loved this to bits. Thanks so much for sharing it with us!
♥♥♥
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Date: 2010-10-30 12:21 pm (UTC)*huggles* Thank you for reading!
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Date: 2010-10-30 10:25 am (UTC)All this is Koumyou's ploy - cos he just knew Sanzo that well. And the executer of the plan - Ukoku. Totally unexpected but simply perfect!
Thank you for writing this lovable fic. *hugs*
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Date: 2010-10-30 12:23 pm (UTC)Thank you, for reading!
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Date: 2010-11-16 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-25 01:20 am (UTC)