Summary: Sanzo firmly believes he doesn't need or want a relationship; after a fortuitous meeting involving a Moonwalk-style bouncy house (yes, you read that right), Hakkai tests that belief.
Warnings: Possibly trigger-y but non-explicit backstory (drug use, prostitution, rape, and suicide). Explicit m/m sex. Canon death.
Author's notes: Written for feait for LiveJournal's 2010 7th Night Smut Saiyuki giftfic exchange. The prompt was "bouncy house in a modern day setting." Heartfelt thanks to my beta reviewer, Whymzycal, for her mad beta skillz. I touched this last, so all remaining mistakes are mine.
Integrity
A fine mist fell as day dawned. Sanzo hauled himself out of bed, cursing. He hoped the mist would burn off instead of turning into rain because he'd be damned if he was going to stand outside for six hours in a clammy raincoat with water sluicing off the brim of his stupid uniform hat.
He heard Goku humming a tune and rummaging around in the medicine cabinet –probably looking for the razor he didn't need yet – and cursed some more. Not only did he hate getting up this early, he was saddled with the one teenager in a million who was cheerful first thing in the morning.
He stumbled into the kitchen, where at least his coffee was ready. He'd remembered to set it up the night before for a change. With all the jovial reminders his captain had given him that he was scheduled to be on duty at the damn town fair all day, it would have been difficult not to remember it. It felt like she'd set the schedule that way just to have a laugh at his expense.
Goku emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered, and made himself some cream of rice topped with fried eggs. Sanzo gagged if he tried to eat that much food this early in the morning, so he left Goku to it. He let Goku cook his own breakfasts and other meals as long as he didn't completely eat Sanzo out of house and home or burn down the kitchen. Hell, he even let Goku cook dinner on occasion. He was more motivated about it than Sanzo would ever be.
Sanzo sat down to read the newspaper while swallowing his coffee and choking down an English muffin. The weather forecast droned from the tinny radio. "It's s'posed to be sunny today," Goku announced dubiously as Sanzo got up from the table. "It sure doesn't look like it."
As he was getting ready to leave, Sanzo asked, "Are you coming to the fair after your game?"
"That's the plan," Goku replied.
"I'd be at the game if I didn't have to work," Sanzo mumbled. Goku was the star shortstop of the varsity softball team, with the highest batting average and most home runs in the league. He was a good fielder, too. Sanzo felt shitty about missing a game, but he didn't control his work schedule, and Goku knew it.
"I know. It's okay."
"How are you getting there, anyway?"
"Nat's mom is picking me up. We can walk to the fair. It's not that far. Sara's s'posed to be at the game, so you'll prob'ly see her too."
Sanzo scowled. His foster son's girlfriend was all right, he supposed, but there was something about her that got on his nerves. He called her "Pippi" behind her back because the way she braided her hair reminded him of Pippi Longstocking, though her hair was coal black, not red.
Goku reciprocated with a wide grin. Sanzo shook his head. "See you later," he said, and left.
At the park where the fair was being held, Sanzo noticed two men struggling to anchor the inflatable structure that was one of the fair's attractions. One of them had dark hair, wore glasses, and looked vaguely Asian. The other had long crimson hair tied back in a ponytail. The blower that kept the structure inflated made a loud racket. He would have to stay far enough away from it so as not to end up with a splitting headache.
Women from a local church were setting up a booth to sell food nearby. He nodded at Sunny, who was well known in town for obsessively washing clothes that belonged to a boyfriend who was never coming back, and her neighbor and friend, Auntie Pan. Some men were filling a dunking tank that town politicians would later take turns at. He might bribe Goku to take a toss at that oily bastard Ni later. It would be fun to see the stunned look on his face as he fell into the tank. Sanzo had good aim, but Goku had a better throwing arm.
As the pace of preparations increased and the first hour of the fair approached, the sky cleared. The cool breeze made Sanzo's uniform jacket feel comfortable instead of clammy, which was the extent of his good luck so far. For the first couple of hours, he was bored, as well as acutely aware that the fair was taking place within eyesight of the police station, where Captain Bosatsu was probably spying on him with her binoculars.
A girl of five or so scraped her knee on the pavement, and Sanzo and her long-suffering mother had to escort her, wailing, to the first aid station. The paramedic on call cleaned and bandaged the knee.
A young boy puked all over his shirt and shoes after eating too much cotton candy; his mother and the paramedic had a long discussion about whether it could be food poisoning before she gave up and took him home. Sanzo was sorely tempted to tell her that it wouldn't have happened if she'd been more careful about what and how much the boy ate, but he knew that would only get him in trouble. Sometimes it felt like his job consisted more of biting his tongue and not speaking than anything else.
His captain came by shortly after one so he could take his lunch break. He bought a sandwich and soda, wished he could guzzle a beer instead, and went inside the station to his desk. Eating there had the benefit not only of getting him off his feet for an hour but also of rendering him inaccessible if anything happened during his break. He studiously avoided looking at the paperwork sitting on his desk from the day before that still needed to be filled out. It could wait until his next shift on Tuesday.
He heard Goku call his name while he ate the last bite of his sandwich. He sipped his soda and waited for Goku to appear.
Sure enough, a minute or so later, Goku rushed in, Nat and Sara trailing in his wake. "I can't believe how hungry I am," Goku complained.
"I can," Sanzo said. He'd heard this refrain many times before. Before Goku could even ask, he reached in his wallet and handed him a ten-dollar bill. "That's it for the afternoon," he told him.
"Awww," Goku said, and made a long face.
"I'm not made of money. How did the game go?"
Goku brightened up. "We slaughtered em! Nat kept em to two runs and I hit a homer."
"Good," Sanzo said, and squeezed his eyes shut. Despite his determination to stay away from the drone of the blower, he was beginning to develop a headache. Maybe he'd gotten too much sun. He'd forgotten to apply sunscreen, and he didn't have any in his desk. Damn.
"Get out of here and leave me in peace," he snapped. They were used to his mercurial temper and turned around and left, gabbing about the game and what to eat for lunch. Sanzo spent the rest of his break trying to will his headache away without much obvious success.
When he returned to the fair, Nat was testing his pitching arm at the dunking booth. Sanzo passed Goku and Sara as they stood in line waiting to enter the inflatable house. These attractions went by various names; this one was a Moonwalk, or a Spacewalk, or some other similar damn thing. He noticed them speaking to the dark-haired man, who was now by himself. The man had striking green eyes that looked vaguely cat-like – not that he liked cats. For a moment, he was reminded of Koh. It wasn't so much that they looked alike, but their builds and the shape of their faces were similar.
He felt a prickle on the back of the neck. Fuck, he should let the ghost of his former partner and their relationship go. Wasn't that part of the reason he'd quit the NYPD - so he wouldn't continually be reminded why mixing business with pleasure wasn't a good idea?
Around three, the sky darkened and the breeze began picking up. There was a commotion at the pony rides as the wind ruffled the pony's mane and tail and made him nervous. His handlers had to tell disappointed fairgoers that his restlessness was making him unsafe to ride. They led him away to the distraught wails of disappointed children.
The people staffing the refreshment stand were busy securing tent flaps, napkins, plates, and the like that were fluttering wildly in the breeze or threatening to blow away. The man tending the inflatable house waved Sanzo over. The handful of children and adults who'd been inside were already scrambling out, one toddler falling in his haste and a mother crawling out because maintaining her balance while standing up proved too difficult.
"We need to dismantle this thing," the man yelled over the ever-increasing wind. "Gusts over twenty-five miles per hour can blow it away."
Sanzo thought it a bit rich that the man had just used the word "we" and made it Sanzo's problem too, but he realized that it was also a matter of public safety, which made the man's request less presumptuous.
He radioed headquarters for help before proceeding. If he was going to be stuck helping deflate and store this pain-in-the-ass structure, more warm bodies would be required to deal with everything else. Captain Bosatsu answered and told him to go ahead; someone would be along shortly to take over crowd control duties.
When he finished speaking to her, Sanzo shouted, "What do we do first?"
The attendant had already walked over to the large fan that kept the house inflated. Once he'd turned that off, they didn't have to scream as loudly to be heard. The absence of noise from the blower also made Sanzo's head throb less.
"I've got the generator," the man said as he switched it off. "Now help me pull up the stakes."
Sanzo started off at the corner opposite from where the attendant started. There were a total of eight stakes, one at each corner and one at the center of each wall. They'd been driven deep into the ground to keep the structure stable. Digging and yanking them out was a bitch and a half. The effort required made Sanzo grateful that he put in time at the weight machines to keep his arm and shoulder muscle in shape to maintain his target shooting proficiency. The other man's looks must be deceptive; even though he looked scholarly and delicate, like a twig that could easily be snapped in half, he removed the stakes with even more ease than Sanzo.
Sanzo was vaguely aware that his captain was speaking to the people in charge. She shouted in his general direction that she and Driscoll had everything covered, which he guessed meant that he was at the bouncy house attendant's disposal until the stupid thing was stored in the nearby panel van with its neat "Joe's Party Rentals" logo.
He heard rather than saw the newcomer arrive. First he heard the sound of a motorbike trying to pass for a motorcycle, then the screech of brakes and a kickstand being used. He hoped that whoever had just arrived was wearing a helmet, because if he wasn't, Sanzo was writing him a ticket once he was done helping dismantle the house.
He took a quick look up as it began to sprinkle and saw the red-haired man who'd helped erect the inflatable house that morning talking to the attendant. He could hear him say something about how "it was s'posed to clear up and wind and rain weren't part of the forecast."
The attendant smiled. Sanzo recognized that tight smile from his NYPD training in reading micro-expressions. The man was holding in a lot of anger and should be handled with care – nothing like the way he looked on the surface to someone who didn't know any better and didn't pick up on the cues.
They made quick work of pulling up the remainder of the stakes with a third man helping out. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanzo noticed that most of the fairgoers were departing rapidly, some of them running toward their cars in hopes of avoiding a downpour and leaving quickly. People were idiots. With everyone leaving at once, they weren't likely to get out of the parking lot anytime soon.
While Sanzo was lost in thought, Goku walked up behind him from the other side, startling him. "Could you use some help?" he asked.
Sanzo glanced at him, then at the other two men. "Do you mind?" he asked. It was perfect timing, since folding the damn thing was next and having one person working on each side would work a hell of lot better than only having three.
The red-haired man shrugged, and the other one said, "Just be careful with it, please. I'd rather it not get ripped. It would take a long time to pay for it from your allowance."
Sanzo wasn't entirely sure whether the man was kidding. Goku said, "I'll be careful, I promise!"
The four of them managed to fold the flattened vinyl structure into some semblance of neatness. Other than the awkwardness its heft and size caused, folding it flat proved similar to folding a fitted sheet.
"Now for the fun part," said the nutcase who'd ridden a motorbike when it threatened to rain.
"What's that?" Goku asked.
"Getting it in the truck."
In the meantime, the attendant had sprinted over to the van and pulled the ramp out. They grabbed the carrying handles, and after an awkward start in which each of them headed for the truck at a slightly different angle, they managed to carry it over to the van. The two men from the rental company walked backward up the ramp while Sanzo and Goku followed until the entire structure was situated as far forward in the truck as possible. Next they dragged the generator and blower in, fastening them with bungee cords so they wouldn't topple over and possibly damage the inflatable structure.
As they were finishing up, Goku said, "Nat and Sara left already, but Nat's mom invited me over for dinner. Can I go?"
"Yeah, sure," Sanzo said, ruffling Goku's unkempt hair.
"Hey, stop that!" Goku said. "I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Didn't say you were."
"You know what I mean," Goku said, exasperated. Sanzo rolled his eyes.
The dark-haired man cleared his throat and smiled. "I'm sorry. I must have left my manners at home. You helped me out when I needed it, and I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Hakkai." He shook Sanzo's hand twice in a firm but not crushing grip, then did the same to Goku.
He pointed his thumb toward the other man. "This is Gojyo, but most people call him Joe. He owns the rental company."
Gojyo gave Hakkai a squeeze and grinned. "He's my best employee."
Hakkai added, "We're also roommates."
Gojyo shook Sanzo's hand rapidly three times in what was more of a twitch than a handshake and waved at Goku.
Sanzo offered his name after some hesitation. He'd started checking Hakkai out, but it looked and sounded like he and Gojyo were a couple. Sanzo didn't get involved with people who were already involved with someone else.
"Hey, 'Kai," Gojyo said with easy familiarity. "Shouldn't you, I dunno, invite this dude to dinner or something to thank him for helping out?"
"I'd invite the young man too, but I gather he already has other plans."
Goku nodded, eyes wide, then glanced at Sanzo. He knew better, however, than to smirk for more than a few seconds.
Sanzo itched to wipe that smug look off his face. Goku had prodded him lately to get out more and have a social life. He assumed that Sanzo was lonely because Goku spending more time with his friends meant that Sanzo spent more time alone. Sanzo found it embarrassing for Goku to worry about his social life; besides, he was perfectly happy with the way things were.
By the time he resumed paying attention to what Hakkai was saying, Hakkai was in the middle of a sentence. Sanzo debated whether he should ask him to repeat himself and look like an inattentive jerk, or pretend he'd heard everything and risk looking like a fool.
"Huh?" he said, opting for "inattentive jerk."
Hakkai smiled that pained smile of his again. Clearly, he didn't like to repeat himself. But when he spoke again, his voice was mild and without a trace of irritation. "Gojyo is right. I owe you dinner, at least. I'll pay."
Sanzo held his hands up in protest. "It's part of my job. You don't need to pay."
The smile that followed was more genuine. "But I'd like to. Besides, Gojyo has been hounding me to get out and start meeting people now that we've settled in here."
Sanzo racked his brain for news of anyone new moving into town recently before remembering that he had no desire to have dinner with a couple that worked as well as lived together.
"Well," Gojyo said, stifling a yawn, "I'd better head back to the house and get ready for work."
Hakkai laid a hand on his arm. "Be careful with that thing in the rain," he said, gesturing toward the motorbike. "I'd hate to have to scrape you off the pavement."
Gojyo flashed him an amused smile. "I'll be careful, Mom," he said, and walked away.
So apparently the sideshow act wasn't part of the dinner invitation. All Sanzo could manage was, "Work?"
Hakkai turned to look at him. "He tends bar at Benny's Bar and Grill, and tonight is their busiest night." He chuckled at Sanzo's look of dawning comprehension. "Oh. You thought it would be the three of us? No, I'm afraid that if you accept, you'll be dining only with me. I promise, though, that I don't bite. Not much, anyway."
Sanzo wasn't sure if Hakkai was hitting on him or just kidding around. He still wasn't convinced that he and Gojyo weren't a couple, and even if they weren't, was he interested? He'd been checking the guy out, but more out of curiosity than any real purpose.
Then again, the only plans he had for the evening was an appointment with his DVR. With Goku eating dinner at Nat's, he'd probably be relegated to heating something in the microwave, assuming he could find something to heat up. If he couldn't, dinner might consist of beer and some ramen. He wasn't that picky about food, but he didn't eat much at one time. The more he thought about it, the more dinner out sounded like an attractive alternative, even if he did have to pay for it himself.
"Okay. Where do you want to meet?" He was determined to avoid having Hakkai pick him up. That would make it too much like a date. Driving himself there also allowed him to leave whenever he wanted, eliminating possibilities he didn't want to consider.
The man's brilliant green eyes widened briefly in surprise. "I was thinking of Pal's Steakhouse on Route 9. I could call now and get a reservation. How does six sound?"
"That's fine." The hour was early enough that the restaurant wouldn't be crowded, and he could excuse himself and get home at a reasonable hour.
He looked for Goku, who had drifted away to help dismantle the food booth and who'd been given a large container of grilled sausage as thanks. Goku grinned and said, "Look, Sanzo! I got us lunch for tomorrow."
"That's a lot of food," Hakkai said dubiously.
Sanzo scratched the back of his neck, where the fine hairs were tickling him. "It would be enough for lunch and dinner if he didn't have such a big appetite," he said with weary affection.
He began to turn away, but Hakkai put a hand on his wrist to stop him. "Give me your phone number in case I need to get in touch with you."
Sanzo recited his phone number and Hakkai wrote it down in a small notebook he carried around in his pocket. His handwriting was both tiny and neat.
He'd gotten in the van and driven away before Sanzo realized that Hakkai knew how to contact him, but he didn't know how to contact Hakkai.
Goku grinned and gave Sanzo a thumbs up when Sanzo dropped him off at Nat's on the way home. "Have a nice evening. Don't cut it short on my account."
Sanzo ignored the last comment. "How are you getting home from Nat's?"
"Nat said something about me staying over, but he has to work it out with his parents. Or his mom can always bring me home."
"I can pick you up," Sanzo said firmly. "I'm going out to dinner, that's all."
"Yeah? You wouldn't think that it's just dinner if you'd paid attention to the way he was looking at you. I saw you checking him out, too. What's the problem?"
"He invited me out of a sense of obligation," Sanzo scoffed. He glared at Goku. "What do you mean, he was looking at me?"
"He looked interested. Not desperate, but interested."
Sanzo wondered how Goku would know what "not desperate, but interested" looked like, but he wasn't about to ask. It was ludicrous for a teenager to aspire to be his relationship coach. He was supposed to be Goku's guide, not the other way around.
"Well, I'm not. I'm just going out for dinner. I'm not looking for anything more," he said.
"Who are you trying to convince – me or yourself?" Goku asked as he walked away.
Sanzo drove off sputtering. Damn interfering kid wanted to run his life. Koh had been the last person he'd spent any amount of time with. He didn't want to start over, nor was he ready to. His life was fine the way it was.
Once at home, he took a shower, trying to soothe his mind while he cleaned his body. He didn't want to think; rather, he wanted to unwindand enjoy both the hot water and the unaccustomed peace and quiet. He cared a lot about Goku, but he appreciated having the house to himself once in a while, a luxury he had given up when he'd taken Goku in. Sometimes he didn't remember what it was like to be able to do - or more to the point, not do - whatever the hell he wanted.
He emerged from the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel and noticed that the message light on the phone was blinking. The message turned out to be Hakkai reporting that he'd made a reservation under his name for six thirty instead of six. "I trust that won't be a problem," he said, "but if it is, call me back as soon as possible." There was a pause, during which he thought he detected Hakkai swallowing nervously, and then Hakkai said, softly, "I'll see you soon."
Sanzo snorted. Hakkai had apparently forgotten that his phone number was unlisted; all the call log disclosed was that the number from which the call had been made was private.
Once Sanzo was ready to get dressed, it took him fifteen minutes to decide what to wear.
When he arrived at Pal's, Sanzo realized that he didn't know if Hakkai would be waiting for him out front or whether he would be seated already.
He waited impatiently for the hostess to finish speaking to one of the servers. When she turned to him and asked, "How can I help you?" he said, gruffly, "Has Hakkai showed up yet? There's a reservation for two people under that name for six thirty." It was now six thirty-four.
She smiled at him and said, "He's already here, sir. I'll take you to the table." Menus stuck haphazardly under her arm, she set off at a rapid pace toward the room to the right. Sanzo trailed behind her.
He spotted Hakkai sitting in a booth in the far corner in the seat facing the rest of the room. After waiting for him to sit down opposite Hakkai, the hostess handed Sanzo a menu and said, "Enjoy your dinner," before departing.
"I was going to take the liberty of ordering a pitcher of beer, but I thought I'd consult you first," Hakkai said.
"Beer's fine."
"Any particular brand?"
"I'd rather not drink the cheap American crap."
Sanzo studied the menu. It had been months since he'd gone anyplace fancier than a sandwich shop, and he hadn't been here in several years.
Hakkai left his menu closed; either he'd already decided what to order, or he knew it well enough not to need to look at it.
When their server appeared, Hakkai asked for a pitcher of Michelob and they both ordered steak.
Once she left, Hakkai said, "Thank you again for helping out. I don't normally order people around like that, but there was no time to waste. Please reconsider my paying for your dinner."
"I was just doing my job. And while I appreciate the offer, it's against department regulations."
Hakkai smiled, but looked downcast otherwise. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I understand." He took a piece of bread from the bread basket and buttered it.
Against his better judgment, Sanzo admitted, "Eating out beats cooking for just one person. It's been awhile since I ate anywhere this nice."
"Not big on cooking?" Hakkai chewed his bread slowly. "It's a hobby of mine. Which is just as well, because Gojyo can't tell what's gone bad and what hasn't. If left to his own devices, he'd poison you with his cooking."
Sanzo sighed. "I really only cook for the two of us, and Goku's started taking it over. Maybe he doesn't like the way I cook, although the most he'll admit is that he likes his food seasoned more than I do."
"He seems like a fine young man," Hakkai remarked.
Sanzo never knew how to respond to comments like that. Maybe he was overly sensitive about it, but he thought that concern about the nature of their relationship lay behind such remarks. "I found him shackled to a pipe in the basement of his foster family's house. He attacked the family's biological son after he maimed a stray cat Goku fed, and the parents kept him confined in the basement and starved him as punishment. It's amazing that he's turned out to be as well-adjusted as he is."
"This happened here?"
"No, it happened in New York City, while I still worked there. The police received an anonymous tip about a child who hadn't been seen for a while and suspicious noises coming from the basement. But don't kid yourself. The same thing could happen anywhere."
Hakkai shook his head. "So you used to work for the New York City police department?"
The waitress brought the pitcher of beer and two glasses to the table. Sanzo filled his glass, grateful for the distraction.
"Yes," he said as he hoisted the frothing mug, but didn't elaborate. The blank, closed off look on his face suggested that further questions on the topic were unwelcome.
Hakkai poured his own mug of beer and changed the subject. "How long have you lived here?" he asked.
"All my life," Sanzo said.
"Really?" Hakkai said, peering at him from behind glasses that reflected the lights above them. "So what led you to police work?"
Sanzo sighed; he was tired of telling the story. Now he remembered why he didn't like getting to know people: they asked questions that exposed the scars of the past. "The Episcopal priest who took me in as an infant was murdered when I was thirteen."
Hakkai's jaw dropped, then snapped shut. After that lapse, he did a creditable job of wiping any expression whatsoever off his face. "That's terrible," he said.
"It is," Sanzo agreed.
He nursed his beer and enjoyed the silence for several minutes until Hakkai said, "Gojyo and I moved here a few months ago."
"From where?" Sanzo asked - not so much because he cared, but because he needed to keep up his end of the conversation. At least it would keep the spotlight off his past.
"Um, from Indiana."
"That's a long way to travel. Were you in the party rental business back there, too?"
"Ah, no, we weren't. That's relatively new. Gojyo took over someone else's business."
"But the business bears his name."
"That's because he changed it. It used to be Party Down."
Sanzo puzzled over why a business like that would change its name and start afresh with an unfamiliar one. Fuck it; it was none of his concern.
The waitress reappeared with their salads.
"Are you from Indiana originally?"
"No, I'm from California." Hakkai stretched his legs and jostled Sanzo's foot in the process. "Ah, excuse me." Sanzo cynically wondered how accidental that was.
When their steaks arrived, they each poured another beer and dug in. Sanzo was glad to have an excuse to abandon the conversation for a while. He rarely ate steak, so he appreciated the opportunity to savor it uninterrupted.
For his part, Hakkai made appreciative murmurs about his steak and the sauted mushrooms and onions that accompanied it before attacking his creamed spinach. "How's your dinner?" he asked politely.
"Good," Sanzo said, cutting another piece of steak. "I don't eat steak very often," he said. "Mostly I prefer shrimp and other kinds of seafood, but it seems silly to order it at a steakhouse."
"You could have suggested that we go someplace else, you know."
Sanzo shrugged. "This is fine."
After their plates were cleared away, Hakkai ordered coffee and dessert. Sanzo turned down dessert, saying he was full – as it was, he'd left nearly half of his steak behind and was having it boxed up for Goku - but he ordered coffee as well. He decided he must be out of practice; the beer he'd had was making him feel sleepier than usual, and he still had to drive home and possibly pick Goku up later.
The headache he'd had earlier had also reappeared. He rubbed his temple to try to relieve the pain and thought about checking his pockets to see if he had some aspirin or Tylenol with him. When he moved his hand back to the table, Hakkai caught it and said, "You all right?"
Startled, Sanzo snatched his hand away, then shook his head. "Just a little tired. You startled me," he added to explain why he'd removed his hand so suddenly.
Hakkai looked concerned. "I apologize for being too abrupt, but you were rubbing your forehead here" - he pointed - "and looked like you were in pain. Do you have a headache?"
"A little bit, but it's nothing that some caffeine won't fix," Sanzo said as he spied their server approaching with coffee pot and cups in hand.
As she put the cups down on the table and poured, she turned to Hakkai and said, "Your tiramisu will be right out, sir."
He nodded at her and turned back to Sanzo. "I know some qigong techniques. Maybe I can help."
Sanzo looked dubious. "Help how? And chi what?"
"Qigong. Qi as in chi, meaning energy. The word means 'energy practice.' It's an ancient Chinese wellness technique that's related to tai chi and acupuncture."
It sounded like some New Age crap of the sort Goku might embrace, or even the priest who'd taken Sanzo in as an infant. "So how does touching my hand help if I have a headache?"
"Touch can be used to determine what's wrong. Besides, how would you have reacted if I'd touched your forehead?"
Sanzo shook his head. To hide his confusion, he drank his coffee, nearly burning his tongue. Just as he put his coffee down, Hakkai's tiramisu was brought to the table,providing a welcome distraction.
Hakkai added cream and sugar to his coffee and stirred, then sliced into the cake with his fork with surgical precision. As Sanzo blew on his coffee to cool it down and lifted the cup to his lips again, he was mesmerized by how Hakkai dispatched his dessert.
His stare did not go unnoticed. With a piece of cake halfway to his mouth, Hakkai paused. "Do you want a bite?" he asked, waving the fork in the air.
Sanzo shook his head and opened his mouth to decline, but Hakkai snuckthe morsel into Sanzo's mouth, removing the fork while leaving the cake behind. Sanzo chewed – it was that or spit the piece of cake out – and discovered that the tiramisu nearly melted in his mouth.
"Good, isn't it?" Hakkai said casually.
"Piss off" and a glare were all the answer Sanzo gave him, but he finished the cake anyway. Hakkai looked entirely too self-satisfied for someone who'd just shoved cake in someone else's mouth uninvited. Did the conniving bastard think he knew what Sanzo wanted better than Sanzo did?
He'd better not let his guard down around this one.
That resolution didn't last much past the third beer, which seemed to have no effect on Mr. Sneakypants but started to hit Sanzo hard. It was stupid of him; he knew that his tolerance was lower than usual and his headache was coming back, yet he still went ahead and had another. It would be a real pain in the ass if he was pulled over and blew the breathalyzer test. His captain would have a fit if he challenged the test result as unreliable like sleazy criminal defense lawyers did. She'd made it clear that no one who drove under the influence would keep his job.
After ordering another cup of coffee, he went to the men's room where he splashed cold water on his face in order to sober up. While he was wiping his face, he saw Hakkai looming behind him in the mirror.
Sanzo glared at Hakkai's reflection. "You know, following me into the bathroom is creepy."
Hakkai chuckled. "I'm here for the same reason you were."
"So why are you here talking to me?" Sanzo retorted. "Go take care of business."
"I was worried about you."
"Don't be," Sanzo said curtly, and slammed out the door.
By the time Hakkai returned from the men's room, Sanzo was gulping down the second cup of coffee he'd ordered and eyeing the bill. Sanzo pulled out his wallet and tossed two twenty-dollar bills on the table. "Here," he said ungraciously.
Hakkai retrieved the check and after taking a look at it, he added his own money and put the check on the table where their server would see it.
By the time Sanzo was finished with his coffee, he was a little calmer. "Thank you for the company," he bit out. "I'm leaving now."
As he started to slide out of the booth, Hakkai looked up and said, "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm not that drunk," Sanzo snarled, finding it hard to enunciate properly. When did his tongue get so thick? And his damn headache was coming back.
Hakkai slid out of the booth and stood up.
"What are you doing?" Sanzo asked. The words came out a little slurred.
"Leaving," Hakkai said mildly as he walked away. Furious again, Sanzo stumbled to catch up with him.
"Do you have to imitate everything I do? It's annoying. And creepy."
Hakkai turned to look at him, mild amusement reflected in his eyes. "It's a free country. There's no law against my leaving at the same time as you."
He let Sanzo go first and caught the front door when Sanzo would have let it swing back in his face.
Once they were outside, Sanzo turned to look at him. "What is your problem?"
"I want to make sure you get home safely."
"Your concern is touching, but I can take care of myself. Stop following me."
"Can I at least walk you to your vehicle?"
"Goddamn it, I'm not a fucking woman."
"When did I say you were?"
Sanzo turned around and blindly stomped off toward his truck. He could hear Hakkai following behind him. He just wanted to get to his vehicle quickly enough to slam the door in Hakkai's stupid, grinning face.
A few yards away from the truck, which he'd already unlocked with the remote, he stumbled on the gravel in the parking lot and fell, catching himself with his hands and nearly dropping his keys in the process. In an instant, Hakkai was there, hauling him up and trying to brush him off. He let Hakkai help him to the car, his alcohol-addled brain trying to figure out how Hakkai knew which vehicle was his before he realized that the flashing lights from using the remote had tipped him off.
Hakkai hurried around to the passenger's door and opened it as Sanzo slumped in the driver's seat. "What do you think you're doing?" Sanzo said.
"Making sure you're all right." The streetlights reflected off the lenses of Hakkai's glasses, making him look owlish and mysterious. He brushed gravel from Sanzo's hands, presumably also using the touch to check his iqi/i. "You should be okay if you take some deep breaths first, but I can tell that you still have a headache." He pointed to the spot that was still throbbing. "You may feel that you have no reason to trust me, but I can help if you let me."
Sanzo was tired of sparring with him. "Help how?" he asked wearily.
Hakkai shifted and turned toward him. "Just let me touch where it hurts for a few minutes."
"Will you stop bugging me after that?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On what I find."
Sanzo shrugged. He didn't think he'd "find" anything. He was skeptical about this whole qigong business anyway; in his time working in New York, he'd seen too many scams to believe in any of this New Age-y stuff. But he didn't think anything Hakkai could do would make his headache feel any worse, either.
Hakkai's palm was surprisingly cool. He held it against Sanzo's temple for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes.
Sanzo's eyelids fluttered shut. Despite the initial coolness of Hakkai's hand, his temple felt strangely warm, then shortly thereafter he felt a mild tingle that spread outward and downward. He found himself pressing his forehead into the heel of Hakkai's hand.
At that realization, he opened his eyes to find Hakkai staring at him. "Better?" Hakkai said, slowly removing his hand.
Sanzo shook his head briefly to see if the sensation would disappear. When it didn't, he said, "Yeah, better," adding a begrudging, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Hakkai said, and leaned forward.
Even though it shouldn't have, the kiss still took Sanzo by surprise. It wasn't until Hakkai ran his tongue over Sanzo's lips that Sanzo regained his senses and pushed away. "Get out," he said.
Hakkai looked at him, slight hurt showing in his eyes. "Fine," he said, "but I'm following you home. Just to make sure you get there safely."
Short of reporting him for harassment, which was an attractive but impractical idea, there wasn't much Sanzo could do to prevent Hakkai from tailing him. "Just don't get out of your car when we get there," he warned, "or I'll deck you."
"Ah ha," Hakkai said. "I'll be on my way as soon as I see that you're safely inside."
As Sanzo drove home, he saw the Jeep tailing him. Hakkai kept his word; as soon as the garage door opened, the vehicle idling in front of the house pulled away. In all the confusion, it didn't dawn on him until later that Hakkai had his phone number and now knew where he lived, but he didn't know anything about Hakkai except the name of his employer.
Goku stayed over at Nat's that night. After pulling off his clothes, Sanzo collapsed into bed, thankful that the coffee didn't keep him awake. He probably should have spent more time thinking about what to make of Hakkai, but he was too tired. His headache was gone, though he was reluctant to attribute its absence to whatever Hakkai had done. And for some reason, it didn't seem like any of the other symptoms of a hangover were going to trouble him either.
TBC