Something wasn't right.
Goku wondered if it was something in the way Sanzo ate, with that detached,
uninterested air about him. The monk chewed only as many times as necessary,
betraying no hint of pleasure from the taste, texture, fullness after a good,
solid meal. Maybe that was it: where things weren't right between them, where
they failed to work.
Or it may be that Sanzo just didn't like the sound of his voice. After all,
Sanzo was constantly telling him to shut up, even more than he did Gojyo. The
thing was, Goku couldn't see a future with Sanzo in which there was nothing but
silence. How would he tell Sanzo what he was thinking, or how he was feeling?
"The hell's wrong with you, Goku?"
"Huh?" Oh crap, he'd been caught staring. Goku blinked and tried to will away
the heat rising in his face, but no doubt Sanzo could see him turning slowly
red.
The monk raised his newspaper to shield his face. "Quit looking at me and go
find someone else to annoy," he grumbled from behind it.
Maybe that was it. Perhaps Sanzo didn't like being looked at, which still
didn't help because the thing Goku liked more than anything - more than sweet
bean pies, or juicy fresh-picked strawberries, or even a fat slab of rump steak
and strong mustard - was watching Sanzo. Watching him read, watching him eat,
watching him think, even watching him when he was all scowly and silently
fuming, or outright yelling at someone.
Goku didn't like to ponder it, but there was a possibility the problem lay in
their bed. Well, whichever bed they were occupying on any given night (Jeep
didn't count; they were always very well-behaved in Jeep, Goku thought to
himself). Was it how Goku liked to lick Sanzo's neck when being taken from the
front, or when he'd slowly nibble down Sanzo's collar and chest between
breathless moans, to run his lips back and forth across old scars and hard
nipples and inhale the salty-fresh scent of Sanzo's sweaty skin...
He wondered if that was it. He worried if that was it.
But Goku didn't think so. Sanzo always came inside him, his arms pulling taught
and firm around Goku's back, holding him tightly and burying his face so far
into Goku's shoulder Goku thought there would be an imprint by morning. Surely
he wouldn't even bother touching Goku, let alone sleeping with Goku, if he
didn't like it.
None of those things sat right with Goku as reasons why they didn't work,
reasons why he so often felt like he was utterly lost when trying to figure out
just what they were to each other. He couldn't articulate it well, but
the question what keeps us together? was clear in his head, like a bright
neon-red sign hanging above a saloon bar. What was the reason, what was the
point of even trying not to get on Sanzo's nerves any more?
Worst of all, Goku didn't have a clue what to do except adore Sanzo even more
intensely, because surely then Sanzo would see, would realise that Goku wouldn't
give up until Sanzo was happy. Even if he had to irritate Sanzo to death first,
he wouldn't give up until he had his answer - he'd follow the monk into the next
world if need be!
Goku suddenly felt a finger pressing under his chin and he jumped, startled.
"Huh!" he blurted, and looked up to find Sanzo's hard expression surveying him.
Hakkai and Gojyo were in town buying dinner and drinks, and in the meantime Goku
had decided to plop himself at Sanzo's feet while the monk caught up with the
daily news. It usually wasn't a problem - Sanzo would just ignore his presence,
and Goku would get on with pondering the mysteries of 'them' by himself. This
time, though, Goku realised he'd been caught staring again.
"Go away," said Sanzo softly, leaning down while tipping Goku's head back. A hot
puff of smoky breath later, and Goku's eyes slid shut, his tongue darting out to
wet his lips just in time, just before Sanzo's lips touched his own. It never
failed to surprise him how Sanzo's mouth could expel such dark, angry reprimands
when annoyed, and yet be as wondrously hot and absorbing as sunlight itself on
rare occasions like these.
Goku basked in it, drank it all up: the sweet-slide and familiar herby taste of
Sanzo's tongue, the pressure of it swiping against his lower lip, catching his
teeth briefly. He hummed low and helplessly, utterly rapt, one hand reaching up
to catch hold of golden strands of hair, soft like honey running through his
fingers. One heartbeat, two, three; Goku squirmed in his clothes, suddenly too
hot, unable to think. His body thrummed at the point where Sanzo's finger still
held his chin steady, and where their mouths met, and lower down - curling
insistently and pleasurably in his abdomen.
It was just too soon when Sanzo released him and pulled back, straightening in
the chair. Goku was forced to give up his handful of blond hair, and he turned
his face up in wake of Sanzo's kiss, wanting to hold on to it for as long as
possible.
Slowly, the newspaper rose again, and apparently that was that.
Goku could only sit there for a few seconds, dazzled and trying to make sense of
things, like he was coming down from years upon a high mountain top.
He gradually pulled himself together and rose, obeying Sanzo's earlier command
and wandering through the doorway of the chalet they were occupying. His steps
were unsteady, though, and he didn't feel like anything was real. There was a
haze refusing to lift and all he could think was that something had given, but
he couldn't put his finger on what.
Out in the bright, sunny fields beyond their chalet, Goku navigated through rich
corn stalks and buzzing dragonflies, aimlessly making his way further into the
countryside. As he walked, a smile crept up and curled his mouth, as he realised
that actually yes, there was something left, something holding them
together. The answer he had been looking for was right in front of him, and he
felt silly for not noticing it sooner. It wasn't the eating, or the talking, or
the watching, or the kissing and biting, nor any of the other little details and
daily habits in between.
What bound them so tightly was simply the fact that they were.
They were Sanzo and Goku.
~Fin~
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