Blood & Chocolate

Chapter 3: Days Go By

So come on and leave the years
When you watched the days go by
Come on and leave the fears
That you were afraid to find
Time is passing by
Days Go By – Lifehouse


The smell of frying bacon and hot coffee danced around the room as Gojyo padded around the small kitchen. He had awoken with a growl in his stomach that could best even the monkey and the thought of breakfast seemed absolutely tempting. He sneaked out early enough peruse the marketplace before the stands would be crowded and returned with several treasures. The timer on the stove dinged and he quickly grabbed a mitt to extract hot crusty bread from the oven, whistling to himself. He sensed a presence behind him and turned his head slightly to see Sanzo lurking on the edge of the kitchenette.

“Mornin' sunshine,” Gojyo crooned. Placing the sheet pan on the stove next to the skillet, he took in the sight before him. The priest looked much younger than he had ever seen him, obviously from a restful sleep. After the exhaustion of breaking down the previous morning, Gojyo had helped him back to bed and cleaned up the mess from the dropped tray of food. Sanzo had slipped into unconsciousness fairly quickly and remained dead to the world until just now. The redhead couldn't blame him. He was well aware the effects of release. “Hungry?”

Sanzo nodded. He shuffled quietly to the table and sat down as Gojyo plated up a breakfast of kings, crisp bacon, fresh eggs, a fried potato basket (that they shared), warm bread with homemade marmalade (a present from one of his clients), and ripe sliced peaches. Before bringing the plates to the table, he extracted a pack of Marlboros from the bag still sitting on the counter and tossed them to the blond who caught them with ease. Sanzo dug into the meal like a released convict with his first meal outside of prison. He hunched over his plate, all manners discarded, shovelling egg into his mouth.

“Whoa there, monk. Slow down,” Gojyo chided. “You're going to get sick.”

“I thought you weren't going to mother me,” Sanzo scowled before taking a rather large bite of bread. Gojyo smirked.

“No, I'm not, but I don't want to be the one to clean up the mess after you luge all over my floor,” the hanyou replied as he brought his coffee mug up and let the warm liquid wash down to his belly. Sanzo, realizing how he must look, straightened in his chair and began to eat a bit more civilly.

They ate in companionable silence until both were sopping the remnants with the last few bites of their bread, their stomachs full and satisfied. Gojyo cleared their plates and returned to the table to pour the remainder of the coffee between the two mugs. Sanzo stared into the depths of the cup for a moment before lifting his gaze to Gojyo's face.

“About yesterday...” he began, but Gojyo merely waved him off.

“S'not a big deal, yeah? I won't tell anyone you cried like a girl for fear of my balls being shot off.” Gojyo flashed Sanzo his usual charming grin.

“I was going to say 'thank you',” Sanzo said quietly, “but yes, if you tell anyone that, I'll kill you in your sleep.” He lifted his head up as he felt Gojyo clap his shoulder and rise from the table to put his mug in the sink.

“No sweat man. I figured you hadn't let it all out after...” he let the sentence hang between them. There were still things that hurt far too much to say aloud. He took a deep breath, pasted a friendly smile on his face and came back to the table with an ashtray. He placed the glass dish between them and extracted a stick from his pack, lighting it with his zippo, passing the lighter to the blond. “Anyway, I think we should discuss the living arrangements.” Sanzo quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

“Living arrangements?” the monk asked curiously as he lit his own smoke.

“Yeah. You can stay here however long you want. I don't mind the company, really. Makes the house less quiet.”

“'Tch.” Sanzo snorted.

“Well, here's the deal: you want to stay, you take care of yourself, ok? I'm not your maid, and I certainly ain't your housewife. No more of this me picking up after you.”

Sanzo considered for a moment, then nodded. “I'll try.”

“That's good enough for me.”

------

The days passed by. The two reluctant roommates fell into a sort of routine, a dance around each other in the small house. During the day, Gojyo played the hero to the patrons of the village, doing odd-jobs here and there to support his makeshift household. Thursday and Friday nights, he went down to the parlor for a game of cards or the occasional match of mah jong. Saturday evenings, he'd stumble in from the bar with another lovely lady, the priest locked silently in his room. Sundays they spent with Hakkai. Rinse. Repeat.

As time went on, he noticed the blond becoming a bit more sociable with him, comfortable. There were constant reminders to his presence, a damp towel hung in the bathroom, a dinner plate left in the sink when he came home from a night out, the newspaper left open on the table. The nights Gojyo stayed in, they ate dinner, then played cards until sleep called them to their rooms. He hated to admit that he was getting used to having the pissy priest around the house, a fact he didn't dare voice aloud.

------

Gojyo's eyes rolled back when he reached the door as an insistent tongue pulled his earlobe into a warm mouth. He turned and pressed his smile to firm lips, clasping flushed cheeks and curling his fingers back into sandy tendrils of hair framing a pretty face. He moaned softly into that mouth as he felt the press of narrow hips grind his own against the door. He pulled one hand down to jiggle the key until the lock gave and they stumbled into the entryway of his house in a fit of soft laughter. The rustle of a newspaper brought him back to reality.

“Shit, Sanzo. I thought you'd be in bed, man,” Gojyo laughed as he righted himself, an arm thrown across his chest from behind him. He patted the arm and glanced over his shoulder. “Hitomi, this is my roommate.” The man called Hitomi threw a friendly nod to Sanzo.

Gojyo turned back to the monk and met a dangerously confused glare. Gojyo's smile faded and he rubbed the arm around him for a second before turning back to his date.

“Listen, I better call it a night, dude,” he said dejectedly. Hitomi mock pouted as Gojyo cuffed him upside the head playfully. “I'll see you at the parlor later,” he added as he closed the door behind the sandy-haired stranger. He turned around, leaning on the door and let out a sigh. Man, that could have been a nice piece of ass, too. He glanced back at the frozen monk. “Oh, don't look at me like that. You knew.”

Sanzo shook his head. “So, it's true. You really will fuck anything that walks, won't you." It wasn't a question. He flicked the paper back open with a snap and buried his nose in it. Gojyo rolled his eyes and crossed over to the couch and flopped down next him.

“Nah, I'm still picky.” He glanced at Sanzo out of the corner of his eye, then pulled the paper down between them. “Dude, get out of the fucking house, will ya?”

“Excuse me?”

“Go out, do something, go to a bar, pick up a chick, just...” he trailed and let out an exasperated breath. “I know something happened at that temple,” he made a show of pointing out the window in the direction of Chang'An, “that's got you like this. And you know what else, I'm tired of skirting around the issue. Go and live your life, man. Stop feeling sorry for your fucking self, 'cause you and I both know that he wouldn't want you to.” Gojyo patted Sanzo's knee once and lifted from his seat to retire to his room. He took two steps before he felt a hand on his arm to stop him. Gojyo took a sideways glance at the monk, anticipating his move and turned away.

“I don't think that's such a good idea,” Gojyo said softly. He hitched a breath as he saw the confusion, hurt, and then, rejection flash across the blond's face. “It's not that I don't want to, believe me. But, it'll only make things worse. For both of us.” He felt the monk's grip slide away from his arm hesitantly. Gojyo exhaled and brought his now free hand to the back of Sanzo's head, threading his fingers in the surprisingly soft golden hair. Closing his eyes, he placed a kiss to the priest's forehead right over the crimson chakra adorning his brow before solemnly walking away.

He sauntered down the hall to the bathroom and clicked the door shut. For some reason, a cold shower sounded really good.


Your lips are moving, I cannot hear
Your voice is soothing, but the words aren't clear
You don't sound different, I've learned the game
I'm looking through you, you're not the same
I'm Looking Through You – The Beatles