Oh god...I'm so, so, sorry. I can't apologize enough for this. -hangs head in shame-

I already know this is terrible. I already know that it's far below my usual standard and that it's badly written and there's something inherently wrong with it but no matter how many times I look over it, no matter how many times I read it, I can't seem to fix it. I know that should mean I shouldn't put it up here, but...I've got nothing else. -sob sob-

So this is my sad attempt at a birthday fic for Gojyo. I know his birthday is tomorrow (Happy Early Birthday) but I have class so I won't be getting anything done tomorrow. I'll be lucky to knock back a drink or two in his honor. But yes. This is my attempt and I'm sorry to all of you for it. It's all I could do.

It's hard to celebrate a birthday for someone who preferred you didn't know when it was. It is even harder to celebrate that birthday when you find yourself traveling day in and day out, without a moment's rest save for the occasional need for sleep. Nevertheless, I intend to try.

We are lucky enough to find a village to stop in for the night, and everyone seems relieved for it. I think it's safe to say that we're all tired of camping...at least for now. I know we're all just happy to have beds when no one complains about having to share two rooms; that's usually a point of heated argument when we arrive in smaller towns.

I'm left on my own to do the shopping again, Sanzo having nonchalantly placed the card in my hands after we'd unpacked things into our rooms. I don't mind, really. It's become my duty in our little ragtag group. And this time it gives me a chance to think; what do you buy for someone, what do you do for someone, when they'd prefer it wasn't their birthday at all?

A present is out of the question. First of all, it's a small town and the choices would be limited. Secondly, nothing that would make for a good gift would be logical to take with us. There's no knowing how much longer we'll be out. And, in the end, I don't think he'd much appreciate my bringing him one...Not in the conventional sense at least.

A quick look around town tells me there's no bakery. Which means that a cake is no longer a possibility. Not that that would have gone over well, if I really think about it. Goku would have demanded some and Sanzo would have said it was a waste of money...and if I recall, he's not all that fond of baked sweets anyway...The occasional candy, yes. But not so much for cakes and things.

The idea of a nice dinner occurs to me, but only briefly. We always eat together, and nothing about it is ever really nice. There are always arguments over who gets what food, and the claims are never respected. There are often shots fired and it's up to me to make sure that no innocent bystanders got caught in the crossfire. No...a nice dinner is out of the question as well.

Without a single new idea, I make my way back to the inn we're staying at, meeting up with Sanzo in the small lobby and passing off what I managed to buy for us all. Goku is quickly rifling through the bags, looking to find if I bought him his meat buns. He finds them with a victorious shout but is reprimanded before he can make off with them...It's come to a point where I can nearly predict every word that will come from their mouths. I suppose I should be comforted by the sense of stability in my life, if only in these passing moments.

Gojyo makes his way down to join us and I smile, offering him a small wave. He nods his acknowledgment, and I can already see that he's distracted by what day it is. Every year it comes to this. He tries harder to be obnoxious, tries harder to laugh when he shouldn't, to throw in unnecessary vulgar comments, to act...like himself to a greater extreme. Sanzo finds it irritating. I find it upsetting. I know he's hiding behind that laugh, that smile; it's something I've done for years.

Once we've all settled down to some extent – and what little I'd bought is put into Sanzo's room for safe keeping – we head out to the nearest restaurant to get something to eat. Dinner goes as it always does, with no lack of bickering, threatening, yelling, and general chaos. I smile throughout, adding my own comments when it seems appropriate, but keeping my eyes on Gojyo when I can. It's as I'm watching him shove Goku out of the boy's chair, as I watch him duck one of Sanzo's more frustrated attempts at an attack, was I watch him flirt with a passing waitress, that I realize precisely what it is I've forgotten.

Excusing myself from dinner, I quietly request that Sanzo lend me the card once more. The blond is never one to question me – we seem to have an understanding – and he hands it to me as he finishes paying for our meal. It doesn't take me long to find what it is I'm looking for, and it takes only a single bag to carry it. I know it isn't much, but I know that it's what he wants.

It's getting dark by the time I climb the stairs and let myself into the room I'm sharing with him. He's sitting at the window, mindfully blowing his cigarette smoke out into the night sky as opposed to into our room, a habit he's taken up at my request. I shake my head and smile faintly, leaving my package on the table and moving over to close the window.

"You'll let a chill in," I say softly, the only explanation I'll give for my actions.

He just smiles crookedly, shaking his head and inquiring offhandedly about the bag on the table. I tell him it's just things I forgot, and that he's free to check if he'd like, knowing that he has nothing better to do. I take a seat on my bed and watch as he does just that, rummaging through what few things are there. The smile that touches his lips is enough to tell me I've done well.

I know already that the cigarettes will make him happy; he goes through them like Goku goes through snack food and it never hurts to buy him extras. It's the other purchase I made that I know he'll appreciate more.

I can see it on his face as he finds his 'present'. It's nothing special, really. Just a couple of six-packs of his favorite beer. But on this trip, with our budget and our need to be on our toes at all times, it's not often that he gets to indulge. I know that the smile he sends my way is his way of thanking me, and I nod in quiet acknowledgment. Over the years of living together we've managed to establish a way of talking without words...It's a comforting feeling, knowing that we've grown as close as we have.

I watch as he cracks the first can open, holding his cigarette in his free hand as he takes his first long drink. I watch as he moves on to the second one, watch as he takes a long drag on the small stick between his fingers, watch as the smoke swirls up to the ceiling. My own smile warms as I watch his, as I see the tension in his body dissipate. It may be alcohol induced, but it's still a show of relaxation.

I listen as he begins to talk, as he goes on about nothing in particular. I listen to his complaints about the lack of pretty girls, about the lack of bars and the restraints placed on his time, keeping him from getting any action. I listen to him complain about the constant company of three men and laugh with him when he realizes we're stuck with one another. I share in his jokes about the others, smiling as he gives his impression of Sanzo and then of Goku, more than happy to laugh alongside him.

I hold my tongue as he crushes his cigarettes out in his empty beer cans, letting him do as his bad habits dictate. I let him smoke as much as he wants, let him say what he will, and let him drink all of the cans without a word of protest or maternal concern as my instincts tell me I should. I've realized, long ago, that the greatest gift I can give him is acceptance.

Eventually the alcohol takes its toll, his words slurring and his sentences ending halfway through, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to remember what he was trying to say. I do what I can to uphold my end of the conversation, watching with a fond smile as he stretches out on his bed. He's getting tired – logically so, considering our current lifestyles – and I know he won't be conscious for long. I don't mind. I've seen him pass out more than once, long before this journey ever began. It's all I can do to make sure he's at least comfortable while doing it. And not in any danger of choking on his own tongue.

I watch as he settles in, listen as his words trail off to little more than sleepy murmurings. I smile as his arms slink up under his pillow, as his long legs bend only slightly at the knees, the position he takes to sleep alone. I've caught him, once or twice before, keeping a pillow to his chest, but he's always adamantly denied it. It's almost adorable, though I'd never say that to his face.

Quietly and carefully I cross the room and fuss with the covers, tugging them out from under his body and gently laying them out over his prone form. It wouldn't do for him to catch a cold after all. However, as I move to leave, I find his hand wrapped around my wrist, though his grip is far from restraining.

"Mmn...thanks 'Kai."

The words are murmured into his pillow and barely intelligible but I manage to hear and understand them well enough. The smile on my face is, for once, entirely natural and I cover his hand with my unrestrained one.

"Goodnight, Gojyo." I whisper softly, waiting for his hand to slip from my wrist before moving to my own bed. "Happy birthday."