A/N: Whoo, first Saiyuki fanfic for me! I'm utterly in love with the Gojyo x Sanzo pairing, so here's a little tribute to that love with some nice 53 goodness. I'm a little disappointed in myself that I didn't write anything racey (yet!) but this little plotkappa popped up in my mind and I simply had to use it. Hopefully I was able to get these two in character.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or anything related to the wonderful world of Saiyuki...sigh

Flowers Bloom in Sunlight

There were few things in this world that Sha Gojyo—the wonderful, handsome love machine that he was—actually hated, but he could honestly say that one Genjyo Sanzo—surly, ill-tempered and condescending—was currently at the top of that short list.

He fished out a cigarette, grumbling to himself as he did so, before glancing towards the object of his frustration. Several consecutive hours had just passed riding in Jeep, during which he had been tormented to the saru's endless whining and the mighty sting of Sanzo's harisen. His head still felt sore after all the hits he had accumulated for his "transgressions." The only thing that made the situation slightly better was that Goku had gotten the same amount of punishment, but then that had led to more whining, equaling more pain for them both.

Gojyo exhaled explosively and waved over to Hakkai, who was setting up their usual camping gear for the night. The fact that they wouldn't even be treated to an inn, bar or restaurant tonight made him all the grumpier.

"Oi, Hakkai, I'm gonna go take a walk."

His friend looked at him worriedly, knowing from his tone and his facial expression that Gojyo was not in the best of moods. But he simply nodded and got back to work, asking Goku to help him. Shooting one more glare towards Sanzo—the damn monk was sitting back and letting the others do all the work, as usual—he turned and set out for some unknown destination.

It was still late afternoon, but he knew the sun would be setting in about an hour or so. That was plenty of time for him to walk around and clear his head. At least, he sure as hell hoped so. Quickly going through his first cigarette, he didn't hesitate to pull out another and lit it while still using his long legs to propel him further away from his annoyances. The surrounding scenery was becoming greener the farther he went, and some trees cropped up around him. It was soothing, somehow.

Better than looking at certain faces all the time. Better than having that blond hair in my line of sight everywhere I go.

He couldn't say how long it was until he found reason enough to put a sudden stop to his trekking. Standing quite still, cigarette dangling from a limp hand, Gojyo took in the patch of red flowers that were before him, so bold in their color and sudden appearance it was as if they glared openly at him, daring to mock him. It was a minute before he could react; he chuckled wryly, putting the cigarette back to his lips and inhaling deeply.

The Gods must really hate me today, he thought bitterly. Should've checked my horoscope; Scorpios all over the globe must be suffering too.

There were indeed few things Sha Gojyo hated, but two managed to come into contact with him today: an irritable monk and unwelcome memories.

But he couldn't quite pull himself away from them. He thought that perhaps he was just a masochist and enjoyed reveling in his own pain and suffering, but another dry chuckle escaped him at the idea and he shook his head as if trying to clear it. Still . . .

He heard a voice in his head from years ago, a voice telling him that blood wasn't the only thing that was red in this world. He knew that, of course he did, but the bastard had still found a way to open 

his eyes a bit more, to make him actually think, Buddha forbid. It had had an effect on him more than the monk probably knew.

"I honestly don't know why you go looking for ways to torment yourself."

Gojyo started at the low voice suddenly sounding behind him that matched the echo in his head perfectly. He whipped around and saw Sanzo there, one pale hand on one narrow hip. A golden eyebrow arched over a violet eye that watched him in such a scrutinizing way that Gojyo fidgeted a little under that stare.

Hold on, aren't I supposed to be mad at this asshole? He shook his head again and replied with a curt, "What the hell do you mean, ya bald monk?"

The eyebrow twitched at that, but Sanzo moved to stand beside him and folded his arms across his chest, looking at the flowers.

"First you keep going at your game of annoying the hell out of me even though I explicitly told you to stop, and now you immerse yourself in bad memories. You just don't quit, do you? You want someone to pity you that badly?"

"Pity?" Gojyo growled, his head throbbing from the violent headache that was about to consume him. "Look, I just stumbled across them, all right? Not like I was plannin' on wallowing in self . . ." He refused to say the word "pity" again. "Well, wallowing in something."

"Che. You're quite the intelligent one, aren't you, kappa?"

Gojyo dropped the cigarette and scuffed it out, trying not to get too riled up at the monk's words. "Whatever. Why are you here, anyway?"

"Hakkai wanted me to come get you, because for some reason he wants you to eat with the rest of us."

"Oh." He ran a hand through his red locks, switching his gaze between the flowers and Sanzo. He didn't know which one was worse at the moment. Without bothering to look at him, the latter of his two nuisances said, almost too softly for him to hear,

"Red flowers are like the rain to you."

Gojyo blinked. "What?"

Sanzo glanced sideways at him. "Red flowers affect you the same way rain affects me. I was just making an observation," he hurried to confirm, trying his best not to sound like he was actually trying to connect to the man before him.

"Oh . . . yeah . . . I guess you're right." The red-head scratched the back of his neck, thinking this over. The monk was right, of course. He had never really thought about it before; it was sort of like there was something connecting him emotionally to Sanzo, even though he would never admit it out loud. They both had things that triggered these horrible memories. They both suffered in the same way.

Gojyo sighed and knelt down, plucking a flower from the ground and twisting it around in his callused fingertips. He could feel those cool violet eyes on him and he tried to suppress a shudder.

"I . . ." He had to clear his throat because he was a little mortified that he was about to say something so sappy. "I know that blood isn't the only red thing in this world."

A moment of silence passed in which Gojyo beat himself mentally at how utterly corny and wussy he sounded, and was sure that Sanzo was going to reply in some snarky way as was his habit, but all he heard was an affirmative "Hn" next to him. Smiling—out of relief, he told himself—he straightened and turned to the blond monk. Without quite knowing why, he handed the crimson flower to him, waiting to see what would happen.

Sanzo looked down at the flower he was being offered for a good long time. Gojyo stood there, suddenly feeling like an idiot for this little gesture, and braced himself against the harisen he knew was about to descend upon his smarting skull. But that didn't end up happening; instead, Sanzo wordlessly reached out to take the flower, his face betraying nothing. Their fingertips touched during the transaction and Gojyo tried to blame the sudden shiver down his spine on the chilliness that the air was developing.

The small blond brought the flower up to his face so that he could examine the scarlet petals up close, his golden lashes lowering. Gojyo was rendered stunned at the picture it made; there were two of his most hated things, together, in a state of total calm and tranquility. He had admitted it to himself long ago and felt no shame in saying that Sanzo was good-looking—because he was—but he seemed to notice at that moment that the flower also held an outer loveliness, and together, these two reviled objects of his became beautiful.

"Maybe I hit you one too many times today," Sanzo muttered, moving violet irises from the flower to Gojyo. His brows furrowed in their traditional way. "What the hell are you staring at? Just get going already, erogappa."

The moment was utterly ruined. Gojyo shrugged in a defeated way.

"Heh. You never change, do you, ya damn monk? I'm goin', I'm goin' . . ." He delved his hands into his pockets and headed back the way he had come, trying not to mutter about sour bastards and their stupid habits. Honestly, he didn't understand why he dealt with this crap everyday, putting up with him . . .

Unseen by Gojyo, said blond bastard fell into step behind him and discreetly tucked the flower away in his robes, eyes focused on the ground beneath him as they walked.

A/N: Okay, so maybe Sanzo is a bit OOC at the very end, but I just had to do it. XD R&R maybe?