[fic] Simple Things 5
May. 25th, 2009 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Simple Things 5
Rating: 16
Pairings: 39, 58
Genre: horror
Warnings: cannibalism is discussed, vampirism is in effect
Summary: People want simple things. Sanzo wants his efforts recognised. Goku wants a home. Hakkai wants his friends to clean up after themselves. Gojyo wants beer.
Author notes: This fic is sponsored by Twilight, enabled by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moshesque and eyesofshinigami, and also sister (gee_nekoi), for keeping Twilight and sparkly vampires in my head by talking about them. XD For the record, this fic is a sparkle-free zone.
If this chapter seems a little quiet to you, you are right.
XVII.
Sanzo had almost forgotten what it was like to chat with a human being. He had never been social, and becoming a vampire added another antisocial facet to his solitary habits. He was justified in his preference: conversation was hard when one had to mind his tongue about knowing what the world looked like before the internal combustion engine. That, and what was the point of chitchat, when the person he talked with, or about, would die in a few decades? Much had been written on the subject of gossip and Sanzo found that, given his perspective, everything was gossip. Ministers, elections, wars and even Queens. With that philosophy, years went by without him exchanging more than a few words with someone who wasn’t Hakkai or Gojyo.
Now, sitting in the coffee shop with Goku, Sanzo discovered that not only was the chattering not annoying, as he’d surmised, but that he was eager to listen. He sat there and let Goku continue talking, about his studies, about the movies he liked, about bad coffee and cheap food. All the little things Sanzo had no care for. There was an urgency to his words that Sanzo had stopped feeling when it had become apparent growing old was not an issue for him any more. This was one of the big surprises of immortality, or something much like it – the notion of time being limited was hardwired into every cell of the body, and that notion influenced everything, from hormonal response to intellectual pursuits. For the vampires the world was naught but a momentary distraction; there was enough of world and time to do anything they pleased, whenever they pleased. Sanzo spoke Spanish, for instance, because 1928 got a bit dull, so he visited Colombia. Goku chattered a mile a minute, like every second mattered, and sipped the chocolate like he would never taste anything ever again. It was fascinating to watch.
There had been problems with being this close, of course. The moment when Goku’d taken off his winter clothes, Sanzo had panicked. “I can’t do it,” he’d thought, slamming his back against the wall, aware that there was nothing between him and the fragrant blood, because a dozen people and flesh was not an obstacle. He sat there as Goku’s thick jacket had opened, releasing a cloud of warm, golden mist of his scent into Sanzo’s face and Sanzo felt his fangs slide out of his jaw to press against his tongue, sharp, insistent, hungry. He’d resisted. He wasn’t sure how he managed without breaking a bone or two, but three minutes later he was still sitting in his seat, breathing in Goku’s scent and listening to him talk.
“So whatcha been studying?”
“You mean, what’s my degree?”
“Yeah.”
“Do learn to speak correctly.”
“Oh, shut up,” Goku said, and grinned.
“Computer science,” Sanzo said. This was his most recent Master’s, though considering the progress of the digital world it was woefully inadequate by now. He’d been awarded the diploma in 1995, and though he employed the skills from time to time (the occasional identity theft these days required some computer whizzery), by 2005 he’d found himself so confused he considered going back to school to get another diploma in the field. He hadn’t got around to it as of yet.
“Really? That is so cool. I suck at the computer things. I mean, I get the idea, it’s not like half of it ain’t obvious, but it’s still feelin’ off, ya know? I prefer to work on stuff that I can chuck outta the window if it ain’t coming out right.”
“So you’re saying I better avoid walking underneath your windows?”
“Well, no, I don’t do that no more.” Goku’s cheeks flushed and Sanzo had to bite on his tongue to keep himself from licking his lips. “I learned.”
“Gojyo said you built a computer.”
“He said that?” Goku asked his already large eyes going even wider.
The fact was, Gojyo had raved about it. Sanzo wondered how much they’d have to pay for the phone call to Colombia just because Gojyo felt the need to share that detail and a dozen others. “He was impressed.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t take all the credit. I have a friend, she’s a computer science major, she helped me to plan it out, and with the programming too.”
Sanzo wondered if the death of a potential love interest qualified as causing less trouble than leaving her alive. “Fantastic,” he muttered, hiding the growl in his double espresso.
“So what is it that you do?” Goku asked, leaning forward. Sanzo gave his parted mouth a look and then, like the square peg finding the square hole at last, it clicked. Goku liked him. Goku found him sexually attractive, Sanzo knew, but there had been wizened old men, attached at the hip to their armchairs and cats, who’d found Sanzo sexually attractive. It happened when one had the face of a Greek god and a body honed by a century of running instead of driving. Goku liked him, though. Goku watched and asked questions, smiled and just liked, like he would like the girl who majored in computer studies and helped him build a computer.
Sanzo felt the little moron deserved a Darwin award.
XVIII.
“I dunno about you,” Gojyo said, “But I’m kinda worried.” Hakkai, though he said nothing at the time, conceded.
Sanzo had been back for several weeks, making it just over a month since Goku arrived in the city, and every single day Sanzo walked Goku home from work, or university, or the swimming pool, to which Goku had taken a fancy, whether Goku knew it or not. Every time, on the days Sanzo would stop by, Hakkai could smell the boy on Sanzo’s clothes and, though the concentration was minute, indicating only that they were in close proximity, without direct contact, Hakkai worried. Every night he waited for Goku to return home and breathed easier when he did, unharmed.
Goku’s infatuation with the nearby swimming pool helped matters. The development was met with wholehearted support of the supernatural lobby, as Hakkai commented in good humour, because it meant Goku returned home with chlorine in his hair, on his clothes and his skin, which did wonders for dampening the mouth-watering scent of his flesh. It was that much easier to be around the irresistible smell with something as pungent as chlorine guising it. As far as being around Goku was concerned, this was no longer a matter of choice – even Hakkai, he of the supreme aloofness and distance, had declared a fondness. Far as Gojyo was concerned, Goku was the best thing that’d happened around him for a while.
But that wasn’t the problem. Hakkai was not the prime authority on dating, but he knew intimacy when he saw it. Goku was happy to have Sanzo close enough to touch, which Sanzo didn’t, on account of being, in Gojyo’s terms, a frigid bitch, but the intent was there. Even Sanzo was displaying signs of arousal, beyond the hunger. The two of them haven’t gotten too far – obviously, Hakkai’s analytical side interjected, as evidenced by the fact Goku’s throat remained whole – but human physiology was taking its course. Goku was excited to see Sanzo, every single time, and Sanzo, well, he was hanging by a thin enough thread.
Personal matters and the impending doom aside, Hakkai found the interactions of their little group a fascinating subject of study. So few books were written regarding vampires’ relationships with humans, even less where the relationship had olfactory foundations. Never one to miss an opportunity to do research, Hakkai extended a permanent invitation for dinner on pool nights, allowing for observation with the temptation levels at a minimum. He claimed Goku had only just stopped being a growing boy, and he needed his meals calorie-dense. Goku scratched his head at that and protested that he was fine on his own, really, but Hakkai would have none of it.
“It’s no hardship,” he said. “Ramen noodles are nowhere near nutritious enough.”
“I don’t just eat ramen,” Goku said. “I cook sometimes.”
“And yet the most space in your fridge is taken up by Gojyo’s beer.”
“That’s cuz he comes up all the time and leaves it to cool.”
“Is this why you have no vegetables? Because Gojyo hijacks your vegetable space for his beverages? I might have to have words with him,” Hakkai said, watching with some amusement as Gojyo cringed and Goku panicked on his behalf.
“No, really! I just don’t leave them in the fridge, cause then I forget and they grow feet and you know.”
“Your vegetables grow feet.”
“This one time, I put them in the drawer, and I forgot, and like a month later there was a jungle. It was carrots, I think. And mushrooms. Mushrooms are the first to run away.”
“Indeed.”
“So, you won’t hurt Gojyo or nuthin’?”
“I shall reconsider,” Hakkai promised. “I will be expecting you for dinner tonight, after pool.”
“I’m fine,” Goku tried to say, but Gojyo interrupted. “For fuck’s sake, what kind of a student are you? Turning down free food? Are you mad?”
“Oh screw you, arsehole! Not everyone is a mooch!”
“No, some of us are just morons. Do everyone a favour and accept the goddamned invitation.”
“I don’t see how me eating all of your food is a favour to anyone.”
“Dunno, food turnover?”
“Gojyo is correct,” Hakkai said. “It’s no trouble to cook for three when I’m already cooking for two.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts. You are young – I do believe your spine has yet to finish developing. You need proper nutrients and an apple a week doesn’t count.”
“My spine? Whazzat has to do with anything?”
“Hakkai is saying you are too young to be neglectful,” Gojyo jumped in, lighting a cigarette. “There’d be plenty of time to let yourself go when you’re old. Then you can get as bloated and sick as you want, because no one will want you anyway.”
“Gee, thanks. Very inspiring,” Goku said, rolling his eyes. Gojyo grinned, and Goku threw a cushion at his head.
“I shall be expecting you at six sharp,” Hakkai said meanwhile, knowing from experience that if anything constructive was to be established, Gojyo must not be allowed to continue the line of thought. He’d come to like Goku, but the boy inspired the most vindictive witty repartee contests Hakkai had had the misfortune to moderate.
“Okay,” Goku said, defeated. Hakkai had to smile. It’d been a while since anything was adorable, puppies and kittens aside, though he never understood their appeal. They tasted good, for animals, but that was about all he could say.
“So, fattening him up, are we?” Gojyo whispered into Hakkai’s ear when Goku moved to leave.
“Gojyo.”
“What, you’ve got a better word for what we’re doing?” Hakkai had to admit he didn’t. “He could use some more meat on his bones, though let me tell you, the hoodies and the cargo pants? Camouflage.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“So I am an uncivilised boor, and I barge into people’s flats without waiting for a ‘come in.’ It comes from being raised by wolves. Goku is a moron for leaving his door unlocked, anyway.”
“Yes, your lack of manners is well-established by now. Please get to the point.”
“The point? Ah, right. So anyway, I barged in and he’s coming outta the shower, naked, all wet and smelling of that peach shower gel he likes.”
“This is one of those stories that will in time culminate with Sanzo ripping out a rib, isn’t it?”
“Not if you don’t tell him,” Gojyo said, grinning. “I’m just saying, kid is not as scrawny as he looks. Quite the opposite in fact.”
“Can’t say I’m too surprised.”
“Still he could do with some fattening.”
“Gojyo? If I start laying down gingerbread foundations, shoot me.”
“With what?”
“Your sparkling wit, if you must.”
“Count on it.”
XIX.
“Sanzo, for the umpteenth time, we have a door. Use it.”
“I’d have to walk around the block,” Sanzo said, stepping down from the windowsill and shaking out of his jacket in the same move.
“This way you have to climb to the second floor, do enlighten me of the difference in effort,” Hakkai said, sounding peeved to Gojyo’s ears and Gojyo’s ears were correct more often than not.
“Seriously? You want me to explain how walking around a building is less trouble than leaping two pitiful storeys?”
“Do not tell me you jump,” Hakkai said dropping the spatula. “Please don’t.”
“It’s a back alley. No one in their right mind wanders here. It’s empty, all the fucking time.”
“I wonder, how is it that we are still a secret, when you find leaping two storeys saves you three minutes?”
Sanzo made a noise and Gojyo grinned. Poor Hakkai. “Hey Sanzo,” the werewolf said, raising a hand in greeting. “Lose the shirt.”
“What?”
“It’s fucking ugly. Get rid of it.”
“What the hell does it matter?”
“It’s orange, for one. Orange is not your colour. Lose it.”
“Go to hell.”
“Do as he says,” Hakkai called from the kitchen. “We have company tonight.”
“What company?”
“Goku. We’re fattening him up.”
“He doesn’t need fattening.”
“So true,” Gojyo said, remembering all the muscle. Not bulky, not even close, but there, shifting under the skin. All the better to sink his teeth into, Gojyo thought, swallowing excess saliva.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sanzo growled, halfway out of his ugly orange shirt.
“Dude, chill. I ain’t been touching,” Gojyo said, surprising even himself with the defensive posture he’d adopted. He couldn’t help it – there was something terrible and dark in Sanzo’s growl, dark enough to reach a werewolf’s core. “You sure you’re okay?” Judging by the look of pure venom Sanzo threw his way, Gojyo assumed this was a stupid question. He turned instead to Hakkai’s closet, for something less gaudy for Sanzo to wear.
Sanzo went without question, taking the offered shirt and slipping it over his head, but Gojyo couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be watching his back and sleeping with one eye open. “Fucking drama queen,” he said out loud, and checked the label of the orange shirt. It ought to fit Hakkai and Hakkai could handle the orange. Into the closet it went.
By the time Sanzo stopped bitching (out loud, because for Sanzo to stop bitching would take a miracle not unlike the parting of the Red Sea) it was 5:58 pm and Goku was knocking on the door. As expected, he was out of breath, flush with exercise, and smelling of chlorine. He was hungry, too, as evidenced by the amount of soup he inhaled before Hakkai had the chance to take his plate away. Gojyo sniggered into his spoon, because the look on Goku’s face was a priceless mixture of a deer staring down a lorry and a puppy caught in a puddle on a coffee table.
“I’m so sorry,” Goku said, flushing from head to toe. “I told you I’m a horrible guest, especially when I’m hungry. I’m just really hungry.”
“I said don’t worry about it,” Hakkai countered with gentle amusement. He had been feeding a werewolf and another vampire for years; one human boy with an appetite for broccoli soup was neither a challenge nor a hardship. If anything, if Goku was to judge by, it gave Hakkai something to be proud of, that he could still prepare a meal a human would enjoy.
Gojyo, for his part, matched the rate of Goku’s inhalation of food, though to him it was a little bland. He didn’t dare to spice it up to his liking; Goku would notice something was off if he fetched the jalapenos and cayenne pepper and dumped three ounces of each into his food.
Then again, letting Goku know something was off about his new circle of friends by watching them chew on jalapenos would be tons better than the alternative.
XX.
Goku couldn’t get over the amount of food Hakkai sent his way via Gojyo, or Sanzo, or just by knocking on his door himself. It was a touch embarrassing, the way he was being babied, but Hakkai waved his protests aside. “I enjoy cooking,” he would say, “and Sanzo and myself are such poor eaters.”
“You have Gojyo.”
“Yes, but his tastes are unorthodox, shall we say. Trust me when I say I don’t mind.”
Goku shuffled his feet and stared at his toes. “I hate ta be moochin’,” he said.
“I can’t consider it mooching if I offer, now do I?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you do. Do you have any objections to my cooking?”
“No, not really.”
“Splendid,” Hakkai concluded, handing him three Tupperwares filled with egg-fried rice, crispy prawns and Sichuan pork. “I don’t want to hear anything,” Hakkai added. “I know I didn’t have to. It’s leftovers.”
Goku sighed and took the food. Despite what he sometimes said, he was not above mooching and certainly not too proud to use the starving student card to get fed. His income was limited and the bills, despite Hakkai’s generosity, were steep. Best he could do was make ends meet. Still, being a charity case sucked, he thought, watching Hakkai go.
“You’re going to stand here for long?” Sanzo asked, appearing by way of magic in the empty corridor.
“Don’t do that again!” Goku said, jumping. “Jesus, why dontcha just pounce!”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Ain’t like the heart attack would be any less.”
Sanzo smirked. “You have no idea.”
“Jerk. What are ya doing here, anyway?”
“There’s the movie you wanted to see.”
“You said it was a waste of time,” Goku said, stepping back into his apartment. “And I’m beat anyway, I’ve got a project due right after Christmas.”
“It’s going to be three hours, at most,” Sanzo said, following.
“Can’t ya let go for ten friggin’ minutes?” Goku opened the fridge and squatted in front of it. Stupid Gojyo, overfilled it with beer, again. Several minutes of creative shifting yielded enough space to fit the containers inside, even if the door would only close if Goku held the one with prawns and snatched his fingers out at the last second. “Stupid jerks,” Goku said, meaning every overconfident male dumbass on the planet. If he didn’t like them both, he’d so be kicking their arses by now.
“Who are you calling a jerk?” Sanzo asked.
“You, jerk.” Goku stood up, covering a yawn with his palm. “Look, I’m tired already, and I hafta get going with the school work.” Plus, he was low on funds again, Christmas being just around the corner, and while that’d never stopped Sanzo before, Goku preferred being able to pay his way through a date.
But Sanzo wasn’t listening. It happened a lot, that he’d stop listening and start watching Goku talk instead. The first time it’d happened Goku balked. He’d lost his place, shut up, and sat there, until Sanzo’d came out of his stupor. “Look, if ya ain’t interested, I don’t have ta talk,” Goku’d said, a little hurt.
“I was listening,” Sanzo’d said.
“Yeah, try and tell me you were too busy staring into my pretty, pretty eyes. I ain’t gonna believe you.”
“Fine. Look, I am listening,” he had said and proved it by repeating most of what Goku’d been saying, with commentary. “It’s not boring.”
“You suck at complimenting.”
“I wasn’t,” Sanzo had said, and reached out to touch Goku’s wrist. “It’s true.”
Goku had believed him then, which made giving in now much easier. “Fine, whatever,” he said. “Movie it is. But I swear, if you bother me during Christmas break, I will hurt you.”
Master Post :: Next Part
Rating: 16
Pairings: 39, 58
Genre: horror
Warnings: cannibalism is discussed, vampirism is in effect
Summary: People want simple things. Sanzo wants his efforts recognised. Goku wants a home. Hakkai wants his friends to clean up after themselves. Gojyo wants beer.
Author notes: This fic is sponsored by Twilight, enabled by
moshesque and eyesofshinigami, and also sister (gee_nekoi), for keeping Twilight and sparkly vampires in my head by talking about them. XD For the record, this fic is a sparkle-free zone.If this chapter seems a little quiet to you, you are right.
XVII.
Sanzo had almost forgotten what it was like to chat with a human being. He had never been social, and becoming a vampire added another antisocial facet to his solitary habits. He was justified in his preference: conversation was hard when one had to mind his tongue about knowing what the world looked like before the internal combustion engine. That, and what was the point of chitchat, when the person he talked with, or about, would die in a few decades? Much had been written on the subject of gossip and Sanzo found that, given his perspective, everything was gossip. Ministers, elections, wars and even Queens. With that philosophy, years went by without him exchanging more than a few words with someone who wasn’t Hakkai or Gojyo.
Now, sitting in the coffee shop with Goku, Sanzo discovered that not only was the chattering not annoying, as he’d surmised, but that he was eager to listen. He sat there and let Goku continue talking, about his studies, about the movies he liked, about bad coffee and cheap food. All the little things Sanzo had no care for. There was an urgency to his words that Sanzo had stopped feeling when it had become apparent growing old was not an issue for him any more. This was one of the big surprises of immortality, or something much like it – the notion of time being limited was hardwired into every cell of the body, and that notion influenced everything, from hormonal response to intellectual pursuits. For the vampires the world was naught but a momentary distraction; there was enough of world and time to do anything they pleased, whenever they pleased. Sanzo spoke Spanish, for instance, because 1928 got a bit dull, so he visited Colombia. Goku chattered a mile a minute, like every second mattered, and sipped the chocolate like he would never taste anything ever again. It was fascinating to watch.
There had been problems with being this close, of course. The moment when Goku’d taken off his winter clothes, Sanzo had panicked. “I can’t do it,” he’d thought, slamming his back against the wall, aware that there was nothing between him and the fragrant blood, because a dozen people and flesh was not an obstacle. He sat there as Goku’s thick jacket had opened, releasing a cloud of warm, golden mist of his scent into Sanzo’s face and Sanzo felt his fangs slide out of his jaw to press against his tongue, sharp, insistent, hungry. He’d resisted. He wasn’t sure how he managed without breaking a bone or two, but three minutes later he was still sitting in his seat, breathing in Goku’s scent and listening to him talk.
“So whatcha been studying?”
“You mean, what’s my degree?”
“Yeah.”
“Do learn to speak correctly.”
“Oh, shut up,” Goku said, and grinned.
“Computer science,” Sanzo said. This was his most recent Master’s, though considering the progress of the digital world it was woefully inadequate by now. He’d been awarded the diploma in 1995, and though he employed the skills from time to time (the occasional identity theft these days required some computer whizzery), by 2005 he’d found himself so confused he considered going back to school to get another diploma in the field. He hadn’t got around to it as of yet.
“Really? That is so cool. I suck at the computer things. I mean, I get the idea, it’s not like half of it ain’t obvious, but it’s still feelin’ off, ya know? I prefer to work on stuff that I can chuck outta the window if it ain’t coming out right.”
“So you’re saying I better avoid walking underneath your windows?”
“Well, no, I don’t do that no more.” Goku’s cheeks flushed and Sanzo had to bite on his tongue to keep himself from licking his lips. “I learned.”
“Gojyo said you built a computer.”
“He said that?” Goku asked his already large eyes going even wider.
The fact was, Gojyo had raved about it. Sanzo wondered how much they’d have to pay for the phone call to Colombia just because Gojyo felt the need to share that detail and a dozen others. “He was impressed.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t take all the credit. I have a friend, she’s a computer science major, she helped me to plan it out, and with the programming too.”
Sanzo wondered if the death of a potential love interest qualified as causing less trouble than leaving her alive. “Fantastic,” he muttered, hiding the growl in his double espresso.
“So what is it that you do?” Goku asked, leaning forward. Sanzo gave his parted mouth a look and then, like the square peg finding the square hole at last, it clicked. Goku liked him. Goku found him sexually attractive, Sanzo knew, but there had been wizened old men, attached at the hip to their armchairs and cats, who’d found Sanzo sexually attractive. It happened when one had the face of a Greek god and a body honed by a century of running instead of driving. Goku liked him, though. Goku watched and asked questions, smiled and just liked, like he would like the girl who majored in computer studies and helped him build a computer.
Sanzo felt the little moron deserved a Darwin award.
XVIII.
“I dunno about you,” Gojyo said, “But I’m kinda worried.” Hakkai, though he said nothing at the time, conceded.
Sanzo had been back for several weeks, making it just over a month since Goku arrived in the city, and every single day Sanzo walked Goku home from work, or university, or the swimming pool, to which Goku had taken a fancy, whether Goku knew it or not. Every time, on the days Sanzo would stop by, Hakkai could smell the boy on Sanzo’s clothes and, though the concentration was minute, indicating only that they were in close proximity, without direct contact, Hakkai worried. Every night he waited for Goku to return home and breathed easier when he did, unharmed.
Goku’s infatuation with the nearby swimming pool helped matters. The development was met with wholehearted support of the supernatural lobby, as Hakkai commented in good humour, because it meant Goku returned home with chlorine in his hair, on his clothes and his skin, which did wonders for dampening the mouth-watering scent of his flesh. It was that much easier to be around the irresistible smell with something as pungent as chlorine guising it. As far as being around Goku was concerned, this was no longer a matter of choice – even Hakkai, he of the supreme aloofness and distance, had declared a fondness. Far as Gojyo was concerned, Goku was the best thing that’d happened around him for a while.
But that wasn’t the problem. Hakkai was not the prime authority on dating, but he knew intimacy when he saw it. Goku was happy to have Sanzo close enough to touch, which Sanzo didn’t, on account of being, in Gojyo’s terms, a frigid bitch, but the intent was there. Even Sanzo was displaying signs of arousal, beyond the hunger. The two of them haven’t gotten too far – obviously, Hakkai’s analytical side interjected, as evidenced by the fact Goku’s throat remained whole – but human physiology was taking its course. Goku was excited to see Sanzo, every single time, and Sanzo, well, he was hanging by a thin enough thread.
Personal matters and the impending doom aside, Hakkai found the interactions of their little group a fascinating subject of study. So few books were written regarding vampires’ relationships with humans, even less where the relationship had olfactory foundations. Never one to miss an opportunity to do research, Hakkai extended a permanent invitation for dinner on pool nights, allowing for observation with the temptation levels at a minimum. He claimed Goku had only just stopped being a growing boy, and he needed his meals calorie-dense. Goku scratched his head at that and protested that he was fine on his own, really, but Hakkai would have none of it.
“It’s no hardship,” he said. “Ramen noodles are nowhere near nutritious enough.”
“I don’t just eat ramen,” Goku said. “I cook sometimes.”
“And yet the most space in your fridge is taken up by Gojyo’s beer.”
“That’s cuz he comes up all the time and leaves it to cool.”
“Is this why you have no vegetables? Because Gojyo hijacks your vegetable space for his beverages? I might have to have words with him,” Hakkai said, watching with some amusement as Gojyo cringed and Goku panicked on his behalf.
“No, really! I just don’t leave them in the fridge, cause then I forget and they grow feet and you know.”
“Your vegetables grow feet.”
“This one time, I put them in the drawer, and I forgot, and like a month later there was a jungle. It was carrots, I think. And mushrooms. Mushrooms are the first to run away.”
“Indeed.”
“So, you won’t hurt Gojyo or nuthin’?”
“I shall reconsider,” Hakkai promised. “I will be expecting you for dinner tonight, after pool.”
“I’m fine,” Goku tried to say, but Gojyo interrupted. “For fuck’s sake, what kind of a student are you? Turning down free food? Are you mad?”
“Oh screw you, arsehole! Not everyone is a mooch!”
“No, some of us are just morons. Do everyone a favour and accept the goddamned invitation.”
“I don’t see how me eating all of your food is a favour to anyone.”
“Dunno, food turnover?”
“Gojyo is correct,” Hakkai said. “It’s no trouble to cook for three when I’m already cooking for two.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No buts. You are young – I do believe your spine has yet to finish developing. You need proper nutrients and an apple a week doesn’t count.”
“My spine? Whazzat has to do with anything?”
“Hakkai is saying you are too young to be neglectful,” Gojyo jumped in, lighting a cigarette. “There’d be plenty of time to let yourself go when you’re old. Then you can get as bloated and sick as you want, because no one will want you anyway.”
“Gee, thanks. Very inspiring,” Goku said, rolling his eyes. Gojyo grinned, and Goku threw a cushion at his head.
“I shall be expecting you at six sharp,” Hakkai said meanwhile, knowing from experience that if anything constructive was to be established, Gojyo must not be allowed to continue the line of thought. He’d come to like Goku, but the boy inspired the most vindictive witty repartee contests Hakkai had had the misfortune to moderate.
“Okay,” Goku said, defeated. Hakkai had to smile. It’d been a while since anything was adorable, puppies and kittens aside, though he never understood their appeal. They tasted good, for animals, but that was about all he could say.
“So, fattening him up, are we?” Gojyo whispered into Hakkai’s ear when Goku moved to leave.
“Gojyo.”
“What, you’ve got a better word for what we’re doing?” Hakkai had to admit he didn’t. “He could use some more meat on his bones, though let me tell you, the hoodies and the cargo pants? Camouflage.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“So I am an uncivilised boor, and I barge into people’s flats without waiting for a ‘come in.’ It comes from being raised by wolves. Goku is a moron for leaving his door unlocked, anyway.”
“Yes, your lack of manners is well-established by now. Please get to the point.”
“The point? Ah, right. So anyway, I barged in and he’s coming outta the shower, naked, all wet and smelling of that peach shower gel he likes.”
“This is one of those stories that will in time culminate with Sanzo ripping out a rib, isn’t it?”
“Not if you don’t tell him,” Gojyo said, grinning. “I’m just saying, kid is not as scrawny as he looks. Quite the opposite in fact.”
“Can’t say I’m too surprised.”
“Still he could do with some fattening.”
“Gojyo? If I start laying down gingerbread foundations, shoot me.”
“With what?”
“Your sparkling wit, if you must.”
“Count on it.”
XIX.
“Sanzo, for the umpteenth time, we have a door. Use it.”
“I’d have to walk around the block,” Sanzo said, stepping down from the windowsill and shaking out of his jacket in the same move.
“This way you have to climb to the second floor, do enlighten me of the difference in effort,” Hakkai said, sounding peeved to Gojyo’s ears and Gojyo’s ears were correct more often than not.
“Seriously? You want me to explain how walking around a building is less trouble than leaping two pitiful storeys?”
“Do not tell me you jump,” Hakkai said dropping the spatula. “Please don’t.”
“It’s a back alley. No one in their right mind wanders here. It’s empty, all the fucking time.”
“I wonder, how is it that we are still a secret, when you find leaping two storeys saves you three minutes?”
Sanzo made a noise and Gojyo grinned. Poor Hakkai. “Hey Sanzo,” the werewolf said, raising a hand in greeting. “Lose the shirt.”
“What?”
“It’s fucking ugly. Get rid of it.”
“What the hell does it matter?”
“It’s orange, for one. Orange is not your colour. Lose it.”
“Go to hell.”
“Do as he says,” Hakkai called from the kitchen. “We have company tonight.”
“What company?”
“Goku. We’re fattening him up.”
“He doesn’t need fattening.”
“So true,” Gojyo said, remembering all the muscle. Not bulky, not even close, but there, shifting under the skin. All the better to sink his teeth into, Gojyo thought, swallowing excess saliva.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sanzo growled, halfway out of his ugly orange shirt.
“Dude, chill. I ain’t been touching,” Gojyo said, surprising even himself with the defensive posture he’d adopted. He couldn’t help it – there was something terrible and dark in Sanzo’s growl, dark enough to reach a werewolf’s core. “You sure you’re okay?” Judging by the look of pure venom Sanzo threw his way, Gojyo assumed this was a stupid question. He turned instead to Hakkai’s closet, for something less gaudy for Sanzo to wear.
Sanzo went without question, taking the offered shirt and slipping it over his head, but Gojyo couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be watching his back and sleeping with one eye open. “Fucking drama queen,” he said out loud, and checked the label of the orange shirt. It ought to fit Hakkai and Hakkai could handle the orange. Into the closet it went.
By the time Sanzo stopped bitching (out loud, because for Sanzo to stop bitching would take a miracle not unlike the parting of the Red Sea) it was 5:58 pm and Goku was knocking on the door. As expected, he was out of breath, flush with exercise, and smelling of chlorine. He was hungry, too, as evidenced by the amount of soup he inhaled before Hakkai had the chance to take his plate away. Gojyo sniggered into his spoon, because the look on Goku’s face was a priceless mixture of a deer staring down a lorry and a puppy caught in a puddle on a coffee table.
“I’m so sorry,” Goku said, flushing from head to toe. “I told you I’m a horrible guest, especially when I’m hungry. I’m just really hungry.”
“I said don’t worry about it,” Hakkai countered with gentle amusement. He had been feeding a werewolf and another vampire for years; one human boy with an appetite for broccoli soup was neither a challenge nor a hardship. If anything, if Goku was to judge by, it gave Hakkai something to be proud of, that he could still prepare a meal a human would enjoy.
Gojyo, for his part, matched the rate of Goku’s inhalation of food, though to him it was a little bland. He didn’t dare to spice it up to his liking; Goku would notice something was off if he fetched the jalapenos and cayenne pepper and dumped three ounces of each into his food.
Then again, letting Goku know something was off about his new circle of friends by watching them chew on jalapenos would be tons better than the alternative.
XX.
Goku couldn’t get over the amount of food Hakkai sent his way via Gojyo, or Sanzo, or just by knocking on his door himself. It was a touch embarrassing, the way he was being babied, but Hakkai waved his protests aside. “I enjoy cooking,” he would say, “and Sanzo and myself are such poor eaters.”
“You have Gojyo.”
“Yes, but his tastes are unorthodox, shall we say. Trust me when I say I don’t mind.”
Goku shuffled his feet and stared at his toes. “I hate ta be moochin’,” he said.
“I can’t consider it mooching if I offer, now do I?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you do. Do you have any objections to my cooking?”
“No, not really.”
“Splendid,” Hakkai concluded, handing him three Tupperwares filled with egg-fried rice, crispy prawns and Sichuan pork. “I don’t want to hear anything,” Hakkai added. “I know I didn’t have to. It’s leftovers.”
Goku sighed and took the food. Despite what he sometimes said, he was not above mooching and certainly not too proud to use the starving student card to get fed. His income was limited and the bills, despite Hakkai’s generosity, were steep. Best he could do was make ends meet. Still, being a charity case sucked, he thought, watching Hakkai go.
“You’re going to stand here for long?” Sanzo asked, appearing by way of magic in the empty corridor.
“Don’t do that again!” Goku said, jumping. “Jesus, why dontcha just pounce!”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Ain’t like the heart attack would be any less.”
Sanzo smirked. “You have no idea.”
“Jerk. What are ya doing here, anyway?”
“There’s the movie you wanted to see.”
“You said it was a waste of time,” Goku said, stepping back into his apartment. “And I’m beat anyway, I’ve got a project due right after Christmas.”
“It’s going to be three hours, at most,” Sanzo said, following.
“Can’t ya let go for ten friggin’ minutes?” Goku opened the fridge and squatted in front of it. Stupid Gojyo, overfilled it with beer, again. Several minutes of creative shifting yielded enough space to fit the containers inside, even if the door would only close if Goku held the one with prawns and snatched his fingers out at the last second. “Stupid jerks,” Goku said, meaning every overconfident male dumbass on the planet. If he didn’t like them both, he’d so be kicking their arses by now.
“Who are you calling a jerk?” Sanzo asked.
“You, jerk.” Goku stood up, covering a yawn with his palm. “Look, I’m tired already, and I hafta get going with the school work.” Plus, he was low on funds again, Christmas being just around the corner, and while that’d never stopped Sanzo before, Goku preferred being able to pay his way through a date.
But Sanzo wasn’t listening. It happened a lot, that he’d stop listening and start watching Goku talk instead. The first time it’d happened Goku balked. He’d lost his place, shut up, and sat there, until Sanzo’d came out of his stupor. “Look, if ya ain’t interested, I don’t have ta talk,” Goku’d said, a little hurt.
“I was listening,” Sanzo’d said.
“Yeah, try and tell me you were too busy staring into my pretty, pretty eyes. I ain’t gonna believe you.”
“Fine. Look, I am listening,” he had said and proved it by repeating most of what Goku’d been saying, with commentary. “It’s not boring.”
“You suck at complimenting.”
“I wasn’t,” Sanzo had said, and reached out to touch Goku’s wrist. “It’s true.”
Goku had believed him then, which made giving in now much easier. “Fine, whatever,” he said. “Movie it is. But I swear, if you bother me during Christmas break, I will hurt you.”
Master Post :: Next Part
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Date: 2009-05-26 05:58 am (UTC)