Sensory experience.
May. 17th, 2007 12:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
solanum_d:
1. “Sanzo!”
Sanzo needed to have a word with Hakkai. All those lessons and the brat’s vocabulary barely expanded beyond “Sanzo”, “hungry” and “food”. What was the moron teaching his monkey, feeding cycles of Buddhist clergy?
The lessons were supposed to keep Goku quiet for a couple of hours, so that Sanzo could finish the goddamned paperwork. He wasn’t supposed to be listening to the soft purring which indicated Goku did something correctly and Hakkai was scratching his ear. Or to the dreamy mhms, puzzled “oros”, indignant “ois” and a variety of other noises.
Sanzo looked at the clock when Goku appeared at his desk. Two hours of relative peace and he’d managed to read half a page. Fuck.
2. The monkey had to get dressed. Preferably in a parka. Or full body armour. Anything but these infernal shorts. Sanzo didn’t care if it was the height of summer and eggs could be fried on the stones in the garden. Goku was going to run around fully clothed from now on, or else.
Sanzo inched the chair a little to the left, when the monkey pranced into the distant corner of the yard, several blocks of wood on his naked shoulder. What a goddamned moron, Sanzo griped to himself, watching as Goku dropped the load and wiped sweat off his chest with his t-shirt. See if he cared whether the brat had nothing clean to wear.
3. Goku was solely responsible for Sanzo’s nicotine addition. He used to light up when an occasion called for it, but the addiction? Wouldn’t happen if he could get away with having a decent sense of smell. The monkey had to spoil it for him. Goku smelt of earth and rain and grass. Always. Shower after shower, seventeen different brands of soap and shampoo later, he still smelt like earth and rain and grass. It was driving Sanzo insane. To the point where he’d find himself sitting in the open window during a spring storm, just breathing in. So he started smoking, lest one evening he’d really lose it and do something incredibly moronic, like fall asleep with his face in the monkey’s nape.
Not that it ever happened, or anything.
*4. There was something indecently soothing about petting Goku’s hair for exactly forty-five seconds. It was warm and, despite its tendency to stick up, soft. Sanzo let his hand glide through the wild strands, skimming over the edge of the limiter, down onto Goku’s ear and neck.
… thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, --
Sanzo tore his hand away, turned around and walked away, leaving a bewildered monkey staring after him. Thirty-sodding-nine and his stupid hand was already searching for skin. See if the monkey got his meat buns the next morning, he thought viciously.
5. This, Sanzo decided glaring at the ceiling, was insane. Stupid. A new low. He snorted. Every time he thought he hit rock bottom, someone wandered over and handed him a shovel.
He turned his head. Goku was in the newborn kitten state, warm, content, on the verge of falling asleep. Sanzo growled. And snorted. And bristled. And then pressed his mouth to Goku’s. Stupid monkey should go and brush his teeth, he noted, letting his tongue slip past the wickedly sharp canines. He should go right now, Sanzo thought, rolling on top of his monkey.
Right –nip. This –lap. Minute –lick.
* Since it's all about numbers, this particular drabble word count = 93. ;P
solanum_d: 1. “Sanzo!”
Sanzo needed to have a word with Hakkai. All those lessons and the brat’s vocabulary barely expanded beyond “Sanzo”, “hungry” and “food”. What was the moron teaching his monkey, feeding cycles of Buddhist clergy?
The lessons were supposed to keep Goku quiet for a couple of hours, so that Sanzo could finish the goddamned paperwork. He wasn’t supposed to be listening to the soft purring which indicated Goku did something correctly and Hakkai was scratching his ear. Or to the dreamy mhms, puzzled “oros”, indignant “ois” and a variety of other noises.
Sanzo looked at the clock when Goku appeared at his desk. Two hours of relative peace and he’d managed to read half a page. Fuck.
2. The monkey had to get dressed. Preferably in a parka. Or full body armour. Anything but these infernal shorts. Sanzo didn’t care if it was the height of summer and eggs could be fried on the stones in the garden. Goku was going to run around fully clothed from now on, or else.
Sanzo inched the chair a little to the left, when the monkey pranced into the distant corner of the yard, several blocks of wood on his naked shoulder. What a goddamned moron, Sanzo griped to himself, watching as Goku dropped the load and wiped sweat off his chest with his t-shirt. See if he cared whether the brat had nothing clean to wear.
3. Goku was solely responsible for Sanzo’s nicotine addition. He used to light up when an occasion called for it, but the addiction? Wouldn’t happen if he could get away with having a decent sense of smell. The monkey had to spoil it for him. Goku smelt of earth and rain and grass. Always. Shower after shower, seventeen different brands of soap and shampoo later, he still smelt like earth and rain and grass. It was driving Sanzo insane. To the point where he’d find himself sitting in the open window during a spring storm, just breathing in. So he started smoking, lest one evening he’d really lose it and do something incredibly moronic, like fall asleep with his face in the monkey’s nape.
Not that it ever happened, or anything.
*4. There was something indecently soothing about petting Goku’s hair for exactly forty-five seconds. It was warm and, despite its tendency to stick up, soft. Sanzo let his hand glide through the wild strands, skimming over the edge of the limiter, down onto Goku’s ear and neck.
… thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, --
Sanzo tore his hand away, turned around and walked away, leaving a bewildered monkey staring after him. Thirty-sodding-nine and his stupid hand was already searching for skin. See if the monkey got his meat buns the next morning, he thought viciously.
5. This, Sanzo decided glaring at the ceiling, was insane. Stupid. A new low. He snorted. Every time he thought he hit rock bottom, someone wandered over and handed him a shovel.
He turned his head. Goku was in the newborn kitten state, warm, content, on the verge of falling asleep. Sanzo growled. And snorted. And bristled. And then pressed his mouth to Goku’s. Stupid monkey should go and brush his teeth, he noted, letting his tongue slip past the wickedly sharp canines. He should go right now, Sanzo thought, rolling on top of his monkey.
Right –nip. This –lap. Minute –lick.
* Since it's all about numbers, this particular drabble word count = 93. ;P
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-17 12:37 am (UTC)I love all of them, but number one had me laughing out loud.
I always did wonder why Hakkai would teach Goku *right in front of Sanzo* when the temple is oh so large.
Young Goku really is too cute for his own good.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-17 12:42 pm (UTC)SANZO: Get the brat away from me. Keep him quiet. Teach him to write, or whatever.
HAKKAI: Certainly. Come along Goku. *exit with Goku, stage left*
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER
SANZO: *did nothing* *taps fingers on desk* *a lot*
SANZO: Screw this. *storms out* *spends the next fifteen minutes stomping through the temple* *loudly*
HAKKAI: ... that's how you hold it.
GOKU: But it's haaaard.
HAKKAI: That is the point. Sort of.
SANZO: WTFOMGIKEELYOU!!!!eleventy!11!
DOOR: *slams*
HAKKAI&GOKU: *look up*
GOKU: Hi Sanzo! *waves a pen around* Lookit, I write!
SANZO: ... *grabs monkey by the ear* Like hell you're staying where I can't keep an eye on you. *drags poor monkey out.
HAKKAI: *polite cough*PUNK'D*polite cough* *follows, feeling rather smug*
He is. Not that the older Goku is any more resistable. :P