[fic] Simple Things 9
Jun. 5th, 2009 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Simple Things 9
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.
Most of the vampire lore in this fic (extra row of fangs, hidden in the tissue above maxillary teeth, beheading, the fact that they are not technically dead) I stole from Supernatural.
Word count: 30,125!
XXXIV.
The cabin was just as they’d left it the year before, half buried on the side of the mountain, hidden from aerial view by copious amounts of snow. Hakkai made a cursory round to check for any unwelcome guests, but there were none to be found. Vampires were borderline scentless, whatever hints of their presence they left dissipated within hours. Species which possessed the best olfactory senses could maybe track a vampire after a several hours have passed, but even then it was close to guesswork. Nevertheless, one adult werewolf in a house for a week could make the cockroaches wary of entering, let alone bigger game. Even after a year the musk kept rodents away.
“Ouch, damnit,” Goku said, falling into the fresh snow. He sprung up not a second later, when the coldness seeped through the thin pants he was wearing. “Cold!”
“See, this is snow,” Gojyo said. “It is made of frozen water. Also, I hear no two snowflakes are alike.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. What the hell, some of them are perfectly exact white lumps.”
Hakkai raised an eyebrow. “You looked?”
Goku grinned and held up a hand of white fluff. “Yeah, seemed like a good thing to investigate.” He looked around. “Can we maybe go in? ‘m kinda cold.”
“Ah, apologies. Gojyo, would you fetch firewood?”
The door was frozen to the frame, but one strong push persuaded it to open. The inside of the cabin was not that much warmer than the outside, not having been graced by a living being for close to a year, but Gojyo returned soon enough with an armful of wood. Hakkai did the honours of kindling the fire. Some skills never went away, and Hakkai had been born to an age in which lighting a fire was an every-day chore. He peeled the bark off a log and arranged it around the remnants of a newspaper from the previous year. He put a match to the paper and within moments the flames sprung up, licking at the cold wood. Goku huddled close to the fireplace, holding out his hands for warmth. “It will be a while before it gets warmer,” Hakkai cautioned, standing.
From the inside the house was surprisingly large. The living room had no windows, as there were bedrooms in the front and the kitchen and bathroom on the side. The back of the hut was kept from the chilly air by the mountain into which it was built. They had it built long after heat stopped being a problem, but it was sufficiently insulated to keep a human warm. “Now, I suppose a breakfast would not go amiss, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, God yes, I’m so hungry,” Goku said. “Hey, can someone turn on the light?”
Ah, Hakkai thought. He had the feeling there was something he should have remembered. Gojyo reached for the switch on the wall, and turned it a couple of times, to no effect. “Oh dear.”
“There’s no light?” Goku said, weary rather than surprised. “I knew it.”
“I think we might have torches,” Hakkai said.
“From the last angry mob whose tried to stake you?”
“Oftentimes we too require light.”
“Awesome,” Goku said, flopping onto the rug covering the floor in front of the fireplace. “Can I have one?”
A torch was provided and Goku spent the next couple of minutes inspecting the ceiling. “There’s no wires,” he said.
“I probably should have mention there is no electricity here,” Gojyo said, clapping a hand on Goku’s shoulder.
“What? No electricity?” there was a hint of panic in Goku’s voice. “What the hell do you do?”
“We talk,” Gojyo said. “Gaze into one another eyes’ soulfully…”
“What, with no light?”
“… share meals, talk some more, crochet, walk around the mountain.”
“Ah,” Goku said, his voice betraying earnest panic.
“Gojyo,” Hakkai interrupted, “stop. There is electricity. We have solar panels on the roof and a generator in the basement. We should try changing the light bulbs, before we start panicking.”
“Way ta give me a heart attack, jackass!” Goku whacked Gojyo over the head.
“Was fun while it lasted.”
“Wait, you have solar power?” Goku asked, turning to Hakkai.
“Circumstances being what they are, I am certain you understand why we’re interested in renewable energy sources.”
“I guess.”
Sanzo appeared, carrying a couple of light bulbs. He exchanged the two affixed to the opposing corners of the living room and flipped the switch.
“That is a problem,” Hakkai said when nothing happened.
“So, no light,” Goku said. He directed the torch’s light at the two lamps and followed the wires. “Can I have a look?” he asked over his shoulder from the brink of the basement.
“Certainly.”
Hakkai continued with preparing the food. He employed his eyes more than his other senses, but he could easily get by in the absence of light. A fire on its way to roaring was sufficient for the purpose of preparing food in the otherwise dark interior.
He was peeling the onion when something in the basement made a whirring noise and the lights flickered to life. Goku emerged several seconds later, his fingers stuck into his mouth.
“Issh sho cold,” he mumbled around them. “Da jenerator wash frozshen.”
“Not fatally, I see.”
“No, but it was stuck.”
“Splendid. Thank you, Goku.” If Sanzo refused to turn the boy, Hakkai might well consider it now. It had always been a pain to get a contractor up here. Someone knowledgeable in the field of mechanics could well prove to be of use. But that wasn’t to be considered now, this close to where Sanzo was standing. “There’s a delightful town nearby, and you may take the time to ski. Gojyo tells me the resort is satisfactory.”
“It’s awesome,” Gojyo enthused, but Goku curbed his enthusiasm. “I can’t ski.”
“Everything in its own time. Speaking of which, I trust you don’t mind receiving your Christmas present early, Goku?”
“My what?” Goku asked, turning with such a tragic expression of panic on his face, it was painful to watch without cracking a smile. “I don’t need gifts,” Goku said, holding up his hands. “I’ll settle for getting back alive.”
“Yes, I imagine that would be the case.” Hakkai reached for his bag and handed Goku a long, flat parcel.
“I didn’t get you guys anything,” Goku said. The heat was filling the cabin slowly but surely, and just in time to allow a rosy flush to colour Goku’s face.
“It is quite alright,” Hakkai said, his hand firm over Gojyo’s mouth. Half a century and he learned to anticipate lewd suggestions of methods of repayment. “We didn’t give you time to prepare.”
Goku was too nice to say he was uncomfortable, which, Hakkai was ashamed to admit, was half the point of gift-giving at this time. The more indebted he felt, the less were the chances he would give away their nature to a pitchfork-wielding mob. He would have a slight problem with finding an adequate mob, since as the times progressed a pitchforks as weaponry was harder and harder to find, but Hakkai wasn’t prepared to take chances. Goku was theirs now; theirs to keep, and he would stay that way.
XXXV.
Goku, though he favoured the global method of unwrapping presents, took his time. Hakkai must have packed the gift, it was too meticulous to be the work of Gojyo and the presence of the wrapping paper disqualified Sanzo as the culprit. Goku set aside the shiny wrap and the ribbon and turned his attention to the lacquered wooden box within. There was a clasp halfway through, metallic and heavy, and Goku was no expert, but this had “I’m expensive, ask me how” written all over it.
“It’s a machete,” he said in the end, staring at the contents of the box. Well, he thought, it could have been worse. It could have been a hand, or something. He wasn’t up to date on vampiric customs; maybe this was the norm.
“I thought it would make you feel better.”
The machete came with a scabbard, thankfully not jewel-encrusted, but still from the top shelf – leather with metal finish, plain but in a way that was highly decorative. Goku set the box aside and tried the edge. He needn’t have touched it, the way the light gleamed off it he could tell it was going to be sharp, but he tried anyway. It sliced through the fine hair of his forearm. “Ya thought a sharpened piece of metal would make me feel better,” Goku repeated, feeling as though his throat was squeezed. This was either very disturbing or very sweet, and the worst part was, he wasn’t sure which.
“In either case, I promised you breakfast,” Hakkai said. “Afterwards there is some shopping to be done.”
“What?” Gojyo asked. “I thought we had everything?”
“Everything except clothes for Goku. He can’t well stay in here the whole time, can he?”
Sanzo muttered something that might have been “suits me,” but Goku, in the interest of not employing his gift too soon, paid him no mind. He’d already decided on not shaving until the New Year, just in case.
“Goku, you’ll be staying in there,” Hakkai said, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.
“Wait, where am I supposed to sleep?” Sanzo asked.
“There is the couch.”
“Like hell!”
“Goku needs a door, may I remind you, to shut in your face should that prove necessary,” Hakkai said with a beatific smile. Goku shuddered, because there was just something about the tone that sent shivers tap-dancing down his spine. “Also, as I’m sure you realise, the bedrooms are much warmer than the living room and Goku is sensitive to cold.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Goku protested immediately, eyeing the couch. It looked more than sufficient, and hell, he’d slept on the sleeping mats that claimed to be fit for a night’s rest and emerged none the worse for wear. He’d have suffered the floor, given a sleeping bag and something to prop his head on.
“No,” Sanzo said, deflating. “Hakkai’s right. Take the room.”
“I really-”
“Take the room. It’s warmer.”
Goku was prepared to stay and argue, but Gojyo took the matters in his own hands, literally, by picking him up and carrying him over his shoulder to the tiny room. Much like Goku’s bedroom back in London, a large bed occupied most of the space. There was a lamp fixed to the wall over the head of the bed, but while the sun was up it was unnecessary, as on the opposite wall there was a large window, admitting more than enough sunlight. Whatever room was left had been used to fit a small cast iron furnace.
Gojyo dropped Goku onto the bed, amidst the duvet and the pillows. The impact forced a cloud of stale air to rise from the mattress, cold and yet not dank. Goku felt, for a second, disoriented when the cloud enveloped him. This smell brought memories to mind, memories he had such a tenuous grasp on that they were more dreams. Mom used to put bags of lavender in the cupboard with the sheets, Goku recalled as he stopped bouncing and lay staring at the wooden ceiling. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, as if by some kind of magic, nothing was as scary anymore.
“Hey, you okay?” the werewolf asked, returning with a handful of wood.
“Yeah.”
“So, toasty warm, sauna warm, or middle east?”
Goku scratched his head. “How about just warm?”
“Aw, come on! Ya need heat, else you’re gonna freeze after the bath.”
“You have a bath?”
“State of the art for nineteen-ten.”
“What?”
“Oh, we have indoor plumbing. Hakkai insisted. But the hot water needs to be dragged in from the kitchen, so anytime you need a bath give us a yell.”
“Um.”
“It’s not bad, trust me.”
“Yet, somehow, I’m wary.”
“Hakkai’s nearly done with the food,” Gojyo said, straightening. “Give the fire a moment to get started, and in an hour or so you’re gonna have a nice toasty room. Oh, and the sheets should be in the wardrobe outside, you’re welcome to stuff your shit in there, too.”
“Thanks.” Goku gave the bed a pat and followed the smell of sizzling bacon.
XXXVI.
Sanzo was starting to hate himself, over the course of the Christmas break. That minute, for instance, on a Tuesday morning, he was sitting on the couch, reading a book, and had just realised that for the past fifteen minutes he had read three pages only to realise the book was upside down. On the other hand, he was acutely aware of the fact that Goku was outside, new jacket hanging on the ledge, chopping wood. Pine blocks, by the smell of them.
“Fuck,” he said, dropped the book, and went outside. Hakai shot him a warning glare from the kitchen, but Sanzo paid him little attention. Eyes closed, he followed the scent of Goku to the block for chopping wood. “What are you doing?” he asked upon opening his eyes.
“Huh?” Goku turned towards him, face bright and shining with sweat.
“What is this you are practising?” Sanzo clarified, indicating the machete and the block of wood it was stuck in. “Last time I checked there was a perfectly good axe.”
Goku looked away, as if embarrassed and Sanzo found the dots spew lines that connected into a clear picture. “This is pointless, you realise.”
“What is?”
“You won’t behead anyone like this, unless they very deliberately lay their heads on the block.”
“I wasn’t!” Goku protested, and Sanzo folded his arms. The kid was such a poor liar: he couldn’t hide an emotion if his life depended on it. Sanzo shuddered to imagine what it must have been like, being this honest. It was a wonder he was still alive.
“Learn a horizontal strike,” he said coming closer. He picked up another block and on top of it he placed a ball of tightly packed snow. “Strike from the shoulder. Take a step, make inertia do the work for you, not your muscles.”
“Ya chopped off many heads in your time?” Goku asked, following Sanzo’s instructions. The snowball fell off the perch and broke on the ground, but at least the groundwork was there. From there to lopping off heads was going to be a walk in the park.
“I played cricket.” Sanzo picked up a thin stick and swung it like he was batting a ball, to Goku’s amusement.
“You’re kiddin’.”
“I’m not in the habit of kidding,” Sanzo said. “Sarcasm is my forte.”
“Strangely enough, that’s the least of your problems.”
“I have problems?” Sanzo asked the back of Goku’s head. How unexpected it was, that the mere change in temperature brought such a difference to the scent of Goku’s skin. Back in the city he was a walking mist of rich gold, here in the snow the colours paled to a bright yellow, all the more striking for its brilliance.
“Yes, and this ‘s one of ‘em,” Goku said, taking a step back. Sanzo had come so close, he was almost touching the kid. Under the circumstances, he suspected this must have been uncomfortable. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Your history says sumthin’ else.”
“I learned.” Sanzo rubbed at his left eye. It was still tender, as in all likelihood not all nerves were in place yet: Sanzo found his vision faulty at times, but it was very near full regeneration.
Goku’s reaction to the reminder was rather peculiar. He took another step back and averted his eyes. “I didn’t wanna,” he said, biting his lip. How bizarre that he regretted defending his life.
Sanzo smirked and took a couple steps towards Goku, trapping him against a wall. “I’m not holding it against you.”
The bandage on Goku’s throat had since been replaced with a plaster. Sanzo smelled the congealed blood, hiding fresh pink skin, not yet strong enough to do its job. There would be a scar, he realised. He touched his mouth to the fabric, in apology. “I’m sorry for this,” he said.
“For what, scarin’ me half to death?”
“The scar.”
“’m in no pageants, I don’t need to be pretty.” Goku shrugged and Sanzo let the movement carry his mouth to Goku’s. The kid’s lips were cold and salty, moist with sweat. Had Sanzo been anything less than a cold-blooded killer he would have trembled with delight when they parted beneath his mouth.
He didn’t let the opportunity go to waste. He pressed Goku harder against the wall. Sanzo’s palms were flat against the coarse wood, on either side of Goku’s head, arms bent at the elbows. This close Sanzo felt the tendrils of body heat sneaking from under the sweater Goku wore. So close to the skin, the scent was at its most base, the colour of a summer afternoon, clear and strong, all the more interesting for the contrast of the thoroughly human notes of sweat, food and lavender, and the chemicals from the brand new ski jacket provided. Sanzo hated to think of himself as a sexual being, but the first hints of arousal tingeing Goku’s scent resonated within Sanzo, setting his nerves on fire. The liquid heat flowed through his body, pooling in his groin and he pressed against Goku harder still, hip to hip, while his mouth opened wider, drinking in the breath escaping the kid’s soft mouth.
Fuck the damned werewolf, Sanzo thought, he was right.
That was roughly the same moment he realised there was a sharp sensation at his throat. He stepped away from Goku, forcing his heart to still. He ignored the tip of the machete at his skin, focusing instead on Goku’s eyes.
“Don’t,” Goku said. “No.”
Sanzo mustered all the diplomacy he had developed not to point out that there was neither ‘no’ nor ‘stop’ in the kisses they’d exchanged.
“I,” Goku tried again. “Damnit. Can’t ya at least wait ‘til it heals?” he beseeched, his palm against his neck.
“I can,” Sanzo said, swallowing the vehement denial. The skin was almost mended. It wouldn’t be long, he told himself, and this was not a rejection. Goku, bless his defective basic instincts, had no intention of keeping him at bay.
XXXVII.
Gojyo loved skiing. Not for the speed, because he could run faster, and not for the rush, because, well, he had hunted humans in the jungles of South America. He couldn’t explain it, not in any way that would satisfy Hakkai. He just found there was something made of pure awesomeness in the fact that he could fix a couple of boards to his feet and fly down a smooth, white slope, not a care in the world.
“So, it’s all simple as pie,” he told Goku, who wobbled in the stiff boots. “The point is not to get killed as you get from top of the mountain to the bottom.”
“Easy for you to say,” Goku replied, muttering about werewolves and healing and trees.
“What was that?”
“I said okay.”
“Just try to keep your feet going in more or less the same direction.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Goku said, stepping hard into the bindings. They clicked and Gojyo, satisfied that they would hold, handed him the poles and then pushed him down the slope. For the first ten yards it went well, but then Goku tried something more complicated, like adjusting the trajectory, and the skis made an attempt at exchanging places.
“That didn’t go so well,” Gojyo said five minutes later, stopping below Goku to help him up. “Perhaps you should have learned to slow down first.”
“Perhaps someone sucks as a teacher.”
“I’m awesome, and you know it.”
“Yeah, real fabulous,” Goku yelled fifteen minutes later, as Gojyo collected his missing ski on the other side of the slope.
“I’ve gotta say, this is the first time I saw someone manage a fall this spectacular on a slope this flat.”
“Fuck you. Ouch,” Goku groaned. “I think I’ve broken something.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“’cause you ain’t bleeding.”
“It’s possible to break shit without bleedin’.”
“Something always gets torn and bleeding,” Gojyo said. “Inside, I mean. And I can smell a drop of blood from the other side of the stadium. You’re fine, get off your arse – ya can’t keep falling if ya sit on it.”
“You’re so very inspiring.”
“I know,” Gojyo grinned. Spectacular skill in finding every hinge in the otherwise smooth surface aside, Goku was a fit kid. A couple more crashes, and he managed to perfect the art of coming to a complete stop without ending up face first in the snow. “Awright!” Gojyo yelled, punching the air. “Break? There’s mulled wine and beer, and I’m dying for a snack.”
“Screw snacks,” Goku said. He stood up straighter and, still wobbling like Winnie the Pooh’s best effort at spelling, started towards the lift. “I think I’m getting the hang of this,” he said.
“Yeah, I mean you only fell twice in one hundred yards, that’s gotta be improvement.”
“Shut up. It’s fun!” Goku exclaimed, and Gojyo could, at best, shake his head and wave his snack and beer goodbye.
He regretted giving in later, when they got home and Goku collapsed into the bed, asleep before his head his the pillow.
“Did he eat anything?” Hakkai asked.
“Yeah, I dribbled chocolate sauce into his mouth on the lift. Frigging hell, little bastard has drive,” Gojyo said.
“Gojyo. Without proper nutrition administered on a regular basis…”
“Ah, shut up. He’ll be fine. He’s tired, he’s gonna be too sore to move tomorrow, he can eat then. Besides, it’s what, four? He’ll gonna wake up in a couple hours, hungry as hell.”
“You would be as confident telling this to Sanzo?”
Gojyo took a glance behind his back, anticipating the flash of blond. Sanzo was there, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the kid sleeping across the unmade bed, half out of the skiing pants. There was the look on his face that oftentimes preceded fat headlines “three go missing, police helpless” by a few days. “No, I think to Sanzo I can confidently say, hey dude, we’re going hunting.”
No one was more surprised than Gojyo when the vampire went without a word.
“Man,” Gojyo said as they turned to leave, “do not pull that stunt again. I like the kid! Unlike you losers, he is fun.”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” Sanzo said, and Gojyo turned towards him. Something was off, he could tell, but the problem with bloody vampires was that their bodies gave very little away. He had to focus hard, but the answer was as bloody obvious as it was surprising.
Sanzo threw a punch at his head, as a preventive measure, but Gojyo didn’t stop grinning. “Okay, okay, I ain’t gonna say it!” It was enough that he knew.
God, he loved being right.
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.Most of the vampire lore in this fic (extra row of fangs, hidden in the tissue above maxillary teeth, beheading, the fact that they are not technically dead) I stole from Supernatural.
Word count: 30,125!
XXXIV.
The cabin was just as they’d left it the year before, half buried on the side of the mountain, hidden from aerial view by copious amounts of snow. Hakkai made a cursory round to check for any unwelcome guests, but there were none to be found. Vampires were borderline scentless, whatever hints of their presence they left dissipated within hours. Species which possessed the best olfactory senses could maybe track a vampire after a several hours have passed, but even then it was close to guesswork. Nevertheless, one adult werewolf in a house for a week could make the cockroaches wary of entering, let alone bigger game. Even after a year the musk kept rodents away.
“Ouch, damnit,” Goku said, falling into the fresh snow. He sprung up not a second later, when the coldness seeped through the thin pants he was wearing. “Cold!”
“See, this is snow,” Gojyo said. “It is made of frozen water. Also, I hear no two snowflakes are alike.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. What the hell, some of them are perfectly exact white lumps.”
Hakkai raised an eyebrow. “You looked?”
Goku grinned and held up a hand of white fluff. “Yeah, seemed like a good thing to investigate.” He looked around. “Can we maybe go in? ‘m kinda cold.”
“Ah, apologies. Gojyo, would you fetch firewood?”
The door was frozen to the frame, but one strong push persuaded it to open. The inside of the cabin was not that much warmer than the outside, not having been graced by a living being for close to a year, but Gojyo returned soon enough with an armful of wood. Hakkai did the honours of kindling the fire. Some skills never went away, and Hakkai had been born to an age in which lighting a fire was an every-day chore. He peeled the bark off a log and arranged it around the remnants of a newspaper from the previous year. He put a match to the paper and within moments the flames sprung up, licking at the cold wood. Goku huddled close to the fireplace, holding out his hands for warmth. “It will be a while before it gets warmer,” Hakkai cautioned, standing.
From the inside the house was surprisingly large. The living room had no windows, as there were bedrooms in the front and the kitchen and bathroom on the side. The back of the hut was kept from the chilly air by the mountain into which it was built. They had it built long after heat stopped being a problem, but it was sufficiently insulated to keep a human warm. “Now, I suppose a breakfast would not go amiss, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, God yes, I’m so hungry,” Goku said. “Hey, can someone turn on the light?”
Ah, Hakkai thought. He had the feeling there was something he should have remembered. Gojyo reached for the switch on the wall, and turned it a couple of times, to no effect. “Oh dear.”
“There’s no light?” Goku said, weary rather than surprised. “I knew it.”
“I think we might have torches,” Hakkai said.
“From the last angry mob whose tried to stake you?”
“Oftentimes we too require light.”
“Awesome,” Goku said, flopping onto the rug covering the floor in front of the fireplace. “Can I have one?”
A torch was provided and Goku spent the next couple of minutes inspecting the ceiling. “There’s no wires,” he said.
“I probably should have mention there is no electricity here,” Gojyo said, clapping a hand on Goku’s shoulder.
“What? No electricity?” there was a hint of panic in Goku’s voice. “What the hell do you do?”
“We talk,” Gojyo said. “Gaze into one another eyes’ soulfully…”
“What, with no light?”
“… share meals, talk some more, crochet, walk around the mountain.”
“Ah,” Goku said, his voice betraying earnest panic.
“Gojyo,” Hakkai interrupted, “stop. There is electricity. We have solar panels on the roof and a generator in the basement. We should try changing the light bulbs, before we start panicking.”
“Way ta give me a heart attack, jackass!” Goku whacked Gojyo over the head.
“Was fun while it lasted.”
“Wait, you have solar power?” Goku asked, turning to Hakkai.
“Circumstances being what they are, I am certain you understand why we’re interested in renewable energy sources.”
“I guess.”
Sanzo appeared, carrying a couple of light bulbs. He exchanged the two affixed to the opposing corners of the living room and flipped the switch.
“That is a problem,” Hakkai said when nothing happened.
“So, no light,” Goku said. He directed the torch’s light at the two lamps and followed the wires. “Can I have a look?” he asked over his shoulder from the brink of the basement.
“Certainly.”
Hakkai continued with preparing the food. He employed his eyes more than his other senses, but he could easily get by in the absence of light. A fire on its way to roaring was sufficient for the purpose of preparing food in the otherwise dark interior.
He was peeling the onion when something in the basement made a whirring noise and the lights flickered to life. Goku emerged several seconds later, his fingers stuck into his mouth.
“Issh sho cold,” he mumbled around them. “Da jenerator wash frozshen.”
“Not fatally, I see.”
“No, but it was stuck.”
“Splendid. Thank you, Goku.” If Sanzo refused to turn the boy, Hakkai might well consider it now. It had always been a pain to get a contractor up here. Someone knowledgeable in the field of mechanics could well prove to be of use. But that wasn’t to be considered now, this close to where Sanzo was standing. “There’s a delightful town nearby, and you may take the time to ski. Gojyo tells me the resort is satisfactory.”
“It’s awesome,” Gojyo enthused, but Goku curbed his enthusiasm. “I can’t ski.”
“Everything in its own time. Speaking of which, I trust you don’t mind receiving your Christmas present early, Goku?”
“My what?” Goku asked, turning with such a tragic expression of panic on his face, it was painful to watch without cracking a smile. “I don’t need gifts,” Goku said, holding up his hands. “I’ll settle for getting back alive.”
“Yes, I imagine that would be the case.” Hakkai reached for his bag and handed Goku a long, flat parcel.
“I didn’t get you guys anything,” Goku said. The heat was filling the cabin slowly but surely, and just in time to allow a rosy flush to colour Goku’s face.
“It is quite alright,” Hakkai said, his hand firm over Gojyo’s mouth. Half a century and he learned to anticipate lewd suggestions of methods of repayment. “We didn’t give you time to prepare.”
Goku was too nice to say he was uncomfortable, which, Hakkai was ashamed to admit, was half the point of gift-giving at this time. The more indebted he felt, the less were the chances he would give away their nature to a pitchfork-wielding mob. He would have a slight problem with finding an adequate mob, since as the times progressed a pitchforks as weaponry was harder and harder to find, but Hakkai wasn’t prepared to take chances. Goku was theirs now; theirs to keep, and he would stay that way.
XXXV.
Goku, though he favoured the global method of unwrapping presents, took his time. Hakkai must have packed the gift, it was too meticulous to be the work of Gojyo and the presence of the wrapping paper disqualified Sanzo as the culprit. Goku set aside the shiny wrap and the ribbon and turned his attention to the lacquered wooden box within. There was a clasp halfway through, metallic and heavy, and Goku was no expert, but this had “I’m expensive, ask me how” written all over it.
“It’s a machete,” he said in the end, staring at the contents of the box. Well, he thought, it could have been worse. It could have been a hand, or something. He wasn’t up to date on vampiric customs; maybe this was the norm.
“I thought it would make you feel better.”
The machete came with a scabbard, thankfully not jewel-encrusted, but still from the top shelf – leather with metal finish, plain but in a way that was highly decorative. Goku set the box aside and tried the edge. He needn’t have touched it, the way the light gleamed off it he could tell it was going to be sharp, but he tried anyway. It sliced through the fine hair of his forearm. “Ya thought a sharpened piece of metal would make me feel better,” Goku repeated, feeling as though his throat was squeezed. This was either very disturbing or very sweet, and the worst part was, he wasn’t sure which.
“In either case, I promised you breakfast,” Hakkai said. “Afterwards there is some shopping to be done.”
“What?” Gojyo asked. “I thought we had everything?”
“Everything except clothes for Goku. He can’t well stay in here the whole time, can he?”
Sanzo muttered something that might have been “suits me,” but Goku, in the interest of not employing his gift too soon, paid him no mind. He’d already decided on not shaving until the New Year, just in case.
“Goku, you’ll be staying in there,” Hakkai said, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.
“Wait, where am I supposed to sleep?” Sanzo asked.
“There is the couch.”
“Like hell!”
“Goku needs a door, may I remind you, to shut in your face should that prove necessary,” Hakkai said with a beatific smile. Goku shuddered, because there was just something about the tone that sent shivers tap-dancing down his spine. “Also, as I’m sure you realise, the bedrooms are much warmer than the living room and Goku is sensitive to cold.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Goku protested immediately, eyeing the couch. It looked more than sufficient, and hell, he’d slept on the sleeping mats that claimed to be fit for a night’s rest and emerged none the worse for wear. He’d have suffered the floor, given a sleeping bag and something to prop his head on.
“No,” Sanzo said, deflating. “Hakkai’s right. Take the room.”
“I really-”
“Take the room. It’s warmer.”
Goku was prepared to stay and argue, but Gojyo took the matters in his own hands, literally, by picking him up and carrying him over his shoulder to the tiny room. Much like Goku’s bedroom back in London, a large bed occupied most of the space. There was a lamp fixed to the wall over the head of the bed, but while the sun was up it was unnecessary, as on the opposite wall there was a large window, admitting more than enough sunlight. Whatever room was left had been used to fit a small cast iron furnace.
Gojyo dropped Goku onto the bed, amidst the duvet and the pillows. The impact forced a cloud of stale air to rise from the mattress, cold and yet not dank. Goku felt, for a second, disoriented when the cloud enveloped him. This smell brought memories to mind, memories he had such a tenuous grasp on that they were more dreams. Mom used to put bags of lavender in the cupboard with the sheets, Goku recalled as he stopped bouncing and lay staring at the wooden ceiling. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, as if by some kind of magic, nothing was as scary anymore.
“Hey, you okay?” the werewolf asked, returning with a handful of wood.
“Yeah.”
“So, toasty warm, sauna warm, or middle east?”
Goku scratched his head. “How about just warm?”
“Aw, come on! Ya need heat, else you’re gonna freeze after the bath.”
“You have a bath?”
“State of the art for nineteen-ten.”
“What?”
“Oh, we have indoor plumbing. Hakkai insisted. But the hot water needs to be dragged in from the kitchen, so anytime you need a bath give us a yell.”
“Um.”
“It’s not bad, trust me.”
“Yet, somehow, I’m wary.”
“Hakkai’s nearly done with the food,” Gojyo said, straightening. “Give the fire a moment to get started, and in an hour or so you’re gonna have a nice toasty room. Oh, and the sheets should be in the wardrobe outside, you’re welcome to stuff your shit in there, too.”
“Thanks.” Goku gave the bed a pat and followed the smell of sizzling bacon.
XXXVI.
Sanzo was starting to hate himself, over the course of the Christmas break. That minute, for instance, on a Tuesday morning, he was sitting on the couch, reading a book, and had just realised that for the past fifteen minutes he had read three pages only to realise the book was upside down. On the other hand, he was acutely aware of the fact that Goku was outside, new jacket hanging on the ledge, chopping wood. Pine blocks, by the smell of them.
“Fuck,” he said, dropped the book, and went outside. Hakai shot him a warning glare from the kitchen, but Sanzo paid him little attention. Eyes closed, he followed the scent of Goku to the block for chopping wood. “What are you doing?” he asked upon opening his eyes.
“Huh?” Goku turned towards him, face bright and shining with sweat.
“What is this you are practising?” Sanzo clarified, indicating the machete and the block of wood it was stuck in. “Last time I checked there was a perfectly good axe.”
Goku looked away, as if embarrassed and Sanzo found the dots spew lines that connected into a clear picture. “This is pointless, you realise.”
“What is?”
“You won’t behead anyone like this, unless they very deliberately lay their heads on the block.”
“I wasn’t!” Goku protested, and Sanzo folded his arms. The kid was such a poor liar: he couldn’t hide an emotion if his life depended on it. Sanzo shuddered to imagine what it must have been like, being this honest. It was a wonder he was still alive.
“Learn a horizontal strike,” he said coming closer. He picked up another block and on top of it he placed a ball of tightly packed snow. “Strike from the shoulder. Take a step, make inertia do the work for you, not your muscles.”
“Ya chopped off many heads in your time?” Goku asked, following Sanzo’s instructions. The snowball fell off the perch and broke on the ground, but at least the groundwork was there. From there to lopping off heads was going to be a walk in the park.
“I played cricket.” Sanzo picked up a thin stick and swung it like he was batting a ball, to Goku’s amusement.
“You’re kiddin’.”
“I’m not in the habit of kidding,” Sanzo said. “Sarcasm is my forte.”
“Strangely enough, that’s the least of your problems.”
“I have problems?” Sanzo asked the back of Goku’s head. How unexpected it was, that the mere change in temperature brought such a difference to the scent of Goku’s skin. Back in the city he was a walking mist of rich gold, here in the snow the colours paled to a bright yellow, all the more striking for its brilliance.
“Yes, and this ‘s one of ‘em,” Goku said, taking a step back. Sanzo had come so close, he was almost touching the kid. Under the circumstances, he suspected this must have been uncomfortable. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Your history says sumthin’ else.”
“I learned.” Sanzo rubbed at his left eye. It was still tender, as in all likelihood not all nerves were in place yet: Sanzo found his vision faulty at times, but it was very near full regeneration.
Goku’s reaction to the reminder was rather peculiar. He took another step back and averted his eyes. “I didn’t wanna,” he said, biting his lip. How bizarre that he regretted defending his life.
Sanzo smirked and took a couple steps towards Goku, trapping him against a wall. “I’m not holding it against you.”
The bandage on Goku’s throat had since been replaced with a plaster. Sanzo smelled the congealed blood, hiding fresh pink skin, not yet strong enough to do its job. There would be a scar, he realised. He touched his mouth to the fabric, in apology. “I’m sorry for this,” he said.
“For what, scarin’ me half to death?”
“The scar.”
“’m in no pageants, I don’t need to be pretty.” Goku shrugged and Sanzo let the movement carry his mouth to Goku’s. The kid’s lips were cold and salty, moist with sweat. Had Sanzo been anything less than a cold-blooded killer he would have trembled with delight when they parted beneath his mouth.
He didn’t let the opportunity go to waste. He pressed Goku harder against the wall. Sanzo’s palms were flat against the coarse wood, on either side of Goku’s head, arms bent at the elbows. This close Sanzo felt the tendrils of body heat sneaking from under the sweater Goku wore. So close to the skin, the scent was at its most base, the colour of a summer afternoon, clear and strong, all the more interesting for the contrast of the thoroughly human notes of sweat, food and lavender, and the chemicals from the brand new ski jacket provided. Sanzo hated to think of himself as a sexual being, but the first hints of arousal tingeing Goku’s scent resonated within Sanzo, setting his nerves on fire. The liquid heat flowed through his body, pooling in his groin and he pressed against Goku harder still, hip to hip, while his mouth opened wider, drinking in the breath escaping the kid’s soft mouth.
Fuck the damned werewolf, Sanzo thought, he was right.
That was roughly the same moment he realised there was a sharp sensation at his throat. He stepped away from Goku, forcing his heart to still. He ignored the tip of the machete at his skin, focusing instead on Goku’s eyes.
“Don’t,” Goku said. “No.”
Sanzo mustered all the diplomacy he had developed not to point out that there was neither ‘no’ nor ‘stop’ in the kisses they’d exchanged.
“I,” Goku tried again. “Damnit. Can’t ya at least wait ‘til it heals?” he beseeched, his palm against his neck.
“I can,” Sanzo said, swallowing the vehement denial. The skin was almost mended. It wouldn’t be long, he told himself, and this was not a rejection. Goku, bless his defective basic instincts, had no intention of keeping him at bay.
XXXVII.
Gojyo loved skiing. Not for the speed, because he could run faster, and not for the rush, because, well, he had hunted humans in the jungles of South America. He couldn’t explain it, not in any way that would satisfy Hakkai. He just found there was something made of pure awesomeness in the fact that he could fix a couple of boards to his feet and fly down a smooth, white slope, not a care in the world.
“So, it’s all simple as pie,” he told Goku, who wobbled in the stiff boots. “The point is not to get killed as you get from top of the mountain to the bottom.”
“Easy for you to say,” Goku replied, muttering about werewolves and healing and trees.
“What was that?”
“I said okay.”
“Just try to keep your feet going in more or less the same direction.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Goku said, stepping hard into the bindings. They clicked and Gojyo, satisfied that they would hold, handed him the poles and then pushed him down the slope. For the first ten yards it went well, but then Goku tried something more complicated, like adjusting the trajectory, and the skis made an attempt at exchanging places.
“That didn’t go so well,” Gojyo said five minutes later, stopping below Goku to help him up. “Perhaps you should have learned to slow down first.”
“Perhaps someone sucks as a teacher.”
“I’m awesome, and you know it.”
“Yeah, real fabulous,” Goku yelled fifteen minutes later, as Gojyo collected his missing ski on the other side of the slope.
“I’ve gotta say, this is the first time I saw someone manage a fall this spectacular on a slope this flat.”
“Fuck you. Ouch,” Goku groaned. “I think I’ve broken something.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“’cause you ain’t bleeding.”
“It’s possible to break shit without bleedin’.”
“Something always gets torn and bleeding,” Gojyo said. “Inside, I mean. And I can smell a drop of blood from the other side of the stadium. You’re fine, get off your arse – ya can’t keep falling if ya sit on it.”
“You’re so very inspiring.”
“I know,” Gojyo grinned. Spectacular skill in finding every hinge in the otherwise smooth surface aside, Goku was a fit kid. A couple more crashes, and he managed to perfect the art of coming to a complete stop without ending up face first in the snow. “Awright!” Gojyo yelled, punching the air. “Break? There’s mulled wine and beer, and I’m dying for a snack.”
“Screw snacks,” Goku said. He stood up straighter and, still wobbling like Winnie the Pooh’s best effort at spelling, started towards the lift. “I think I’m getting the hang of this,” he said.
“Yeah, I mean you only fell twice in one hundred yards, that’s gotta be improvement.”
“Shut up. It’s fun!” Goku exclaimed, and Gojyo could, at best, shake his head and wave his snack and beer goodbye.
He regretted giving in later, when they got home and Goku collapsed into the bed, asleep before his head his the pillow.
“Did he eat anything?” Hakkai asked.
“Yeah, I dribbled chocolate sauce into his mouth on the lift. Frigging hell, little bastard has drive,” Gojyo said.
“Gojyo. Without proper nutrition administered on a regular basis…”
“Ah, shut up. He’ll be fine. He’s tired, he’s gonna be too sore to move tomorrow, he can eat then. Besides, it’s what, four? He’ll gonna wake up in a couple hours, hungry as hell.”
“You would be as confident telling this to Sanzo?”
Gojyo took a glance behind his back, anticipating the flash of blond. Sanzo was there, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the kid sleeping across the unmade bed, half out of the skiing pants. There was the look on his face that oftentimes preceded fat headlines “three go missing, police helpless” by a few days. “No, I think to Sanzo I can confidently say, hey dude, we’re going hunting.”
No one was more surprised than Gojyo when the vampire went without a word.
“Man,” Gojyo said as they turned to leave, “do not pull that stunt again. I like the kid! Unlike you losers, he is fun.”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” Sanzo said, and Gojyo turned towards him. Something was off, he could tell, but the problem with bloody vampires was that their bodies gave very little away. He had to focus hard, but the answer was as bloody obvious as it was surprising.
Sanzo threw a punch at his head, as a preventive measure, but Gojyo didn’t stop grinning. “Okay, okay, I ain’t gonna say it!” It was enough that he knew.
God, he loved being right.
Master Post :: Next Part
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Date: 2009-06-05 09:20 pm (UTC)Goku would totally react like that on the skiing thing! And Hakkai going off about food - again - and awwww Sanzo~!
Also, Goku chopping wood is a very hot image (my imagination has rendered him sans shirt though, I'm afrait)
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Date: 2009-06-05 09:54 pm (UTC)Hakkai worries, he's so good at it. ^____^ Sanzo is adorably in love and too proud to admit it. I hear you, about the shirtlessness, but it really was cold.
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Date: 2009-06-05 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 09:59 pm (UTC)I thought the machete for Goku would be a nice touch. :) It is useful and a gesture of trust. Hee, the Twilight poster was so much fun. Thank you!
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Date: 2009-06-05 10:11 pm (UTC)And i love the banter between goyjo and goku on the one hand goyjo wanted to kill goku but than again he seems to have had a change of heart and he try's to protect him in his own way. So sweet teaching him how to ski, needs alot of practice our goku does.
As always looking forward to next post.
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Date: 2009-06-05 11:00 pm (UTC)I love writing Gojyo and Goku. ^____^ They are adorable together. Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2009-06-05 10:51 pm (UTC)And Sanzo teaching Goku how to handle a machete needs to be drawn. Seriously.
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Date: 2009-06-05 10:58 pm (UTC)Well, then draw it. :P
Kiedy starzy wyjezdzaja?
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Date: 2009-06-06 09:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 11:23 pm (UTC)"Sleeping Sun," the song, is the best 39 song in existence. Have you seen the AMV to it on youtube? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnaRipVB4HI
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Date: 2009-06-05 11:37 pm (UTC)I love the song, and no, I haven't seen the vid. Thank you. :)
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Date: 2009-06-06 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-06 09:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-06 03:41 am (UTC)That was scarily possessive, endearingly sweet and adorably protective all in one.
I don't need to tell you how awesome this is (you would have gotten the hint from previous comments xD)
But I am curious, what of their pasts? How did they become vampires? How did a werewolf end up in one of their beds? And where did Goku's family go?
So many questions, I know -.-
But you've gotten me hooked and this addiction will continue, I think, even after the story is over and done with ^.~
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Date: 2009-06-06 09:13 am (UTC)Yes, I do get the feeling people enjoy this story. This makes me a happy bunny indeed.
Hm. Well, I know how they became vampires... And there is the possibility of that being woven into this story, though I doubt it. It seems whole from where I'm standing, so perhaps a sequel? Anyhoo, I can tell you Hakkai is one of the mysterious historical figures. See if you can guess!
As for Goku, I suspect the answer is a very mundane car accident. I don't think this will play a part.
^_____^ Enjoy!
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Date: 2009-06-08 03:24 am (UTC)i love that sanzo's in love, and as is usual,
not saying a word.
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Date: 2009-06-08 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 10:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-07 07:58 am (UTC)Awww, love the ending here.
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Date: 2009-07-08 12:42 pm (UTC)I find it very odd that though I write 39 pretty exclusively, I love using Gojyo as the observer. He makes a fantastic narrator. :)
Also, I wanted to say I really appreciate you dropping me a note on each chapter. Thank you so much! <3 *feels loved*