Title: The Abstract Noun
Rating: T for language and tobacco/alcohol use
Pairing: GojyoxSanzo.
A/N and Warning: This is my very first fanfic. It's going to suck. Sanzo is probably going to seem OOC but that's only because I interpret him differently on rainy days. My friend gave me the particular challenge of pairing Sanzo up with someone, and I chose Gojyo because there aren't enough GojyoxSanzo fics here and I wanted a challenge. No spoilers so far. Might be some in later updates.
The walls were thin. It was raining. I leaned my head back against the unyielding barrier, feeling a cool pressure against my scalp as it bore past the layers of hair. I could hear him in the room adjacent, a silken rustling of robes as he searched for a lighter. I knew from the following curse that his search did not reach the intended fruition. He was like this every rainy day, and I could recall his persistent behavior from when I had been stupid enough to remain in his company during such weather. He would pluck the cigarette from his lips and tilt his head back to gaze at the ceiling with eyes that bore their way through the roof to grace the sky. He would remain like that for a moment, then clench his teeth and angrily push his thumb against the cigarette, tearing the paper cover and scattering its tobacco contents along the hardwood floor.
Last time, he shattered a window.
It was quiet save the pattering of rain against the windows as it pleaded entrance. The inn was safe for that night. I sat back up on the bed, abandoning the whisper of Sanzo's movements in favor of Goku's snores coming from the other bed as he slept tangled in sheets and blankets with his pillow far from its starting point beneath his head. Sleep was out of the question. The noise was absolutely deafening, grating against my eardrums as steadily as a cartoon chainsaw. Not to mention I was bored of waiting for sleep. I was listening to goddamn SANZO, for chrissakes. My attempts at slumber were making me ace Stalking 101. I fished out a Hi-Lite, threw my pillow at Goku who snored on, oblivious, and headed out the door. I needed a drink. Or a girl. Either one was good.
As I descended the stairs, I was surprised by the sight of Sanzo sitting by the counter with a drink in his hands. Normally, it was Hakkai who tried to drown his sorrows in such until oblivion (which he never did, considering his freakishly high alcohol tolerance) on rainy days. However, I was certainly not deterred by the might Sanzo's presence. The boredom was still very prominent in my conscience, as well as the cravings my carnality continued to chant in the foremost part of my mind. I proceeded down to the bar. But God knows what compelled me to take the seat next to the priest! He was reeking of angst and the eventual promise of murder, no less. Pure stupidity, perhaps? Or maybe I had an underlying need to push Sanzo's buttons. It's been a while since I had seen him with his harisen. The pissy, trigger-happy, holier-than-thou priest, Genjo effing Sanzo. That's the one I knew and (though it's difficult to admit to myself) wanted. I guess his behavior had become a familiar regularity, something I valued as the source of my comfort. Funny how that works. Familiarity. This brooding, silent, I'm-so-dripping-angst drama queen Sanzo was an imposter in my twisted logic, and I desired the return of the original.
The look I received from Sanzo as I took the seat beside him was one of pure disgust. Undeterred, I asked the bartender for the entire bottle of whatever Sanzo was having. He usually had good taste when it came to drinks.
"What the hell do you want, Gojyo?"
To be honest, I was surprised he even acknowledged me. His tone was chilling, but his voice lacked its usual acidity. By no means did this mean he hated me any less. Rather, when Sanzo's voice dropped to such a cold pitch, it served the same purpose as a concealed weapon – much more dangerous than one revealed. I filled his empty glass.
"What? Now I'm now allowed to drink? Quite the hypocrite, cherry-chan(1)."
I poured some for myself and awaited the familiar click of Sanzo's gun as he pulled back the hammer.
It didn't come.
I glanced over at him to see him swilling the contents of his glass and watching the ice clink against the sides. Then he tilted his head back and drank deeply from it. Setting the glass back down, he reached for the bottle in my hand and refilled the cup. I finished off my own in silence. Sanzo automatically reached inside his robe but drew his hand back out when he remembered the absence of a lighter. His knuckles turned white as he grasped his glass. I pulled my own lighter out.
"Looking for this?"
He saw the enticing glint of the silver cover and extended his hand. I felt like being a bastard, so I immediately pulled it out of his reach.
"Come and get it."
Sanzo froze, his hand still outstretched. I knew he was a man far too proud to beg, but I persisted with a cocky grin and a teasing shake of the lighter. He stood, and I followed suit, determined not to give him the upper hand.
I guess I was expecting him to pull out his paper fan or something similar to that to show that I had pushed the right button and had brought him back to normality. Therefore, it's understandable that I was more than slightly surprised and sorely disappointed when pain exploded in my cheek, and my eyes watched his robe sleeve pull up as he followed through with his punch. All the patrons stopped their mindless chatter to stare along with the bartender who rushed on over.
"Gentlemen, please. We do not appreciate that kind of behavior here."
He would have continued had not Sanzo trained his glare upon him. With a nervous smile, he fingered the cloth in his hands and resumed the task of cleaning all the glasses. Then Sanzo turned those purple eyes on me, and for a moment, I was lost in amethyst chaos. And I didn't want to leave. I had no choice though as Sanzo lowered his head, hiding his eyes under a fall of blonde bangs before walking past me and back up the stairs to act as the recluse once again.
"Sir?"
The bartender cautiously called me back to my senses, and I realized that I had not moved since Sanzo struck me. With a forced smile and a small nod, I reassured him of my well-being and headed towards the door. I couldn't lose face now, could I? To hell with the drink. I was going to find myself that girl.
(1)Gojyo calls Sanzo this in the 7th volume, and I'm not quite sure what it means but it seemed to fit there so I put it in. : )