Title: Tourists (read in exasperated 'Sanzo' voice)
Series: Saiyuki AU
Pairing: 39; Rating: T
AN: Fine! (mock exasperation) Here's your 39 fic for the day, now I gotta finish these reports or I will have way more time to write than my bank account likes!
Sometimes he really hated it when the weather was nice. Not because he had anything against blue skies and white, fluffy clouds, or a nice crisp breeze or anything, but because of all the fucking annoying tourists! Sanzo ground his teeth together, biting through the smoldering Marlboro and gagging slightly as the acrid taste of partially burnt tobacco slid down his throat. He refrained from elbowing the annoying skateboard kids off their stupid gaudily painted boards and thought grimly how many years he'd get if he just happened to accidently knock one of the obnoxious brats over the railing and down into the surf below.
He was seriously contemplating it when he was hit hard from the side, the force of the impact sending him sprawling a good ten feet from the silver BMX and landing splayed like a Christ on the cross over a rather daintily designed garden wall brimming with azaleas and hibiscus. His vision spun for a moment as he tried to get his wind back, laying there blinking up into the sun that was suddenly blocked out by a dark shadow.
"Oh man, I'm so sorry, I lost my footing on the boardwalk, are you okay?" a light breezy voice floated out of the darkness and he struggled to not punch the whoever-it-was for sending him flying like a freakin cannonball.
"What the fuck do you think?!" grumbling Sanzo tried pulling himself free from the entangling vines, hissing as a wayward rose thorn pricked his finger savagely.
Like a shot there were smaller, square golden hands clutching his, he just laid there speechless as they dragged his violated finger into the warm confines of the strangers mouth, a soft pink tongue dancing out to lightly suck the crimson stain away, gently lapping at the bruised flesh until Sanzo couldn't figure out if it still throbbed, or if that was some other body part.
As quickly as the finger disappeared it reappeared, slightly moist and tinged red, but none-the-worse for being in some foreign grotto. Strong hands helped pull him out of the flowers before waving over a toffee colored mop of hair and disappearing into the crowd; leaving Sanzo standing there by his downed bike and blinking at his hand. Gripping the bike handles tightly he tossed a long leg over the seat and turned back towards the boardwalk, no fucking way in hell was that guy getting off without a better apology than that lame excuse.
He stifled a smile as he peddled faster. See, this is why he hated fucking tourist season.
Fin.