A/N: Hello, I'm not dead! Which is totally obvious...I just hadn't been working on this. And for that I feel really bad. I finally managed to delve back into this wonderful universe and reacquaint myself with the little complexities and feelings it provokes. I realize it is very, very hard to go from present-tense default (see "The Breakroom") back to past-tense writing. Very, very hard. If you notice any discrepancies in tense, it's because I'm not used to this!
Anyway, today is now officially (it's 12:01 AM as I write) my one year anniversary of becoming a fanfiction dot net member! Which, to me, is majorly shibby. I've made it this long, so here's to another year! Notes to reviewers at the end, even though it's been two months. Eh heh.
.
The day was inhumanly, swelteringly hot. Yaone tottered between tables, balancing drinks on her tray and her body on her heels. This act was delicate and skilled, lending to a strength evident in her legs and her arms. She closed her hands around the cold drinks as she served them to customers, and would surreptitiously transfer the cold to her neck in some attempt to gain respite from the heat.
From time to time, she passed Ren on her way in and out of the kitchens. Though he was allowed to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, he was forced into long slacks and his shirt was buttoned to the collar. He mopped the sweat from his brow and gave her an easy grin, dramatically fanning his face. She would laugh and mimic the gesture. Whenever they had a free moment, they would stand under the air conditioning vent by the drink dispenser, reveling in the blast of cold air.
It was on her way to another quick respite that Yaone saw the table waving at her, snapping their fingers for her attention. She came to them with a practiced, bright smile and asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
No words escaped them but for the vulgar laughter and a few grunts of appreciation. A hot, meaty hand landed square on the curve of her derriere and bunched the fabric of her skirt under its fingers. Yaone darted away as if burned, but before she could get any words out Ren slid smoothly between her and the table.
"Excuse me, sirs, but Miss Yaone is overdue for her break. However, if there's anything you need to ask of me, I'll be quite willing to help. The name's Higurawa. Now if you gents will excuse me, I have other patrons to attend to." Ren slid his arm through Yaone's and pulled her away before her molestors could gather their wits.
Under the cold blast of the air conditioner, Ren put his face near Yaone's and asked, "Everything okay?" His shoulders were tensed, fists clenched in anger at his sides. But he would back down if Yaone didn't press the matter.
She looked away and twisted the ring on her finger. "That's not the first time it's happened anyway. I can take care of myself."
Ren shrugged, his easy grin a flash of white against tanned skin. "Can't help it if I think you shouldn't have to. At least, not all the time." He gave her a friendly nudge, knuckles to shoulder, and added, "I figure you've walked yourself home all this time without too much trouble, right?"
At that, Ren managed to wrench a smile at of Yaone. Satisfied for the moment, he let her alone and returned to the dining area. Yaone watched him go, shook her head, and turned her face to the ceiling vent for a few precious moments of cool.
.
Gojyo winced at the pain in his hand, unused to not being able to swing his arms as he walked. Returning bloodflow to his fingers meant the natural pendulum movement sent pain shooting from palm to fingertips. Doku noticed the intake of breath and masked his question with a statement. "You're sure you're all right."
Gojyo nodded, half-shrugging. "Been through worse." He looked about him in a habit he thought he'd shed a while back. Out of necessity, shaken from his confidence by a single encounter, his eyes raked the people around him, never lighting on one face for more than an instant. His look was not aggressive, forced to be so. He fought the urge to dart like a frightened, trapped animal, and instead walked in Dokugakuji's massive shadow. The muscle kept himself between Gojyo and the open street. It was a protective stance he'd adopted with Kougaiji, and this possessiveness felt natural.
Gojyo stopped when Doku's arm swung out in front of him, pushing through a door and holding it open for him. Gojyo hated that about him, hated the chivalry and the friendliness and the easy way he did these things for him. He'd noticed how they walked, how Doku kept pace with him even though he tried to change it, how Doku had one eye always upon him. He half-expected the muscle to pull his chair out for him, but this did not occur.
He did, however, take other presumptuous measures. "We don't need menus," he told their server. "Couple of blue-plates. I'll take water and he wants a beer."
As soon as the young man nodded and darted in the direction of the kitchens, Gojyo hissed, "Could of let me pick my own drink."
Doku smiled at him. "You seem like a beer-at-lunch kind of guy."
The worst part was, Doku was right. Gojyo shifted on the hard, wooden chair and turned to look through his reflection and into the street. He sat silent, avoiding Doku's eyes and pressing hard onto the palm of his injured hand. The drinks came.
The water came with a straw in it. Doku removed the plastic and took a sip from the brim of the glass, murmuring, "Dealing's gonna be tough, huh?"
Gojyo didn't move his head, but only his eyes. From under his mess of red hair, he growled, "Cut the crap. You're gonna ask about him, so ask about him. That's what you brought me here for anyway, right?"
Doku raised his eyebrows. "'Mitry? Couldn't care less. I brought you here because Reno thinks you're worthwhile and I'm curious. Seemed like a great time."
Gojyo snorted. "Your timing's impeccable. Really." Doku chuckled softly and shrugged. "How is she?"
"You miss her?" asked Doku. Before Gojyo can answer or refuse to dignify the question with response, he continued, "Just fine. Her brother's coming on hard times, though. She sends part of her paycheck to him now. He might be moving out here, just because he's been so often."
"He was very good at Hold 'Em," Gojyo commented, still staring out the window. A girl caught his eye and waved happily to him with a bat of her ebony eyelashes. He nodded slightly and continued watching the world outside and talking to Doku as if he were on the other side of the glass. Gojyo watched his own mouth in his reflection. "Funny thing, Dallas hitting bad luck. It doesn't sound like him."
"You knew him, then," said Doku.
Gojyo responded without thinking. "Fucked him." He shoved the mouth of the beer bottle into his mouth to prevent further talk. Doku let out a long breath. Gojyo finally turned his face to him and grinned a bit. "Kind of guy I am."
"Already knew it," Doku replied, "judging by the company you keep in dark alleys."
Gojyo frowned, bringing his good fist down hard on the table. "Things are different now. I don't have to explain myself to you."
Doku nodded. "No, you don't," he agreed. Gojyo turned again to the window, the dirty light filtering into their air-conditioned cocoon, heating the patches of skin it touched. Red eyes searched the streets, half-paranoid and half-angered.
He turned to the calm and open face across from him, gentle despite its attachment to a neck as thick as a tree trunk. "Stop being so Goddamn' agreeable about everything!" Gojyo snarled, irked to the core.
"Why?"
The food came then, on blue flatware. Two gigantic open-faced hoagies and side orders of fries. Gojyo wasn't hungry, and said so.
"What do you care?" asked Doku, digging in and swallowing before adding to his question. "I'm paying anyhow."
Begrudgingly, Gojyo ate a fry. And then another. He took a swig of beer and stared down at his plate. "You can't let me fight you on anything, huh? Why's that?"
"I fight enough." Doku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I play Blackjack with worse people than you, so let me enjoy this."
Gojyo's eyes opened a fraction wider. "Blackjack. You've got it on the nose. That's what this is about, huh?"
"One Blackjack table in the whole joint and it's got to be yours. It's got to be our favorite game. But we're lucky because nobody would believe you if you told them." Doku raised both his eyebrows and Gojyo bit back a comment to the contrary. "I don't like mixing you up with those people. What happened today wasn't your fault."
"Bullshit." Gojyo shook his head, meeting Doku's eyes with his own piercing glare. "It would have happened to me sooner or later. We've got a history, Dimitry and me." He grinned at Doku, looking lopsided and wolfish. "And anyway, there's nothing unconscionable going on between any of you, so there's nothing for me to be mixed in with, right?"
Doku nodded. "No, there isn't. You're right."
Without his permission, Gojyo had eaten half of the sandwich on his plate. He looked down at it in mild bemusement, not remembering when he had eaten it. He licked mustard from the corner of his mouth and murmured, "So what exactly is it that nobody would believe my retelling?"
Doku glared at him. "Thin ice."
"You bribing me?" asked Gojyo, pointing to the plate. "The whole savior bit, the beer, the food, the getting all buddy-buddy." Gojyo rubbed his nose, taking another drink from the bottle at his elbow. "I've been playing this game since I was a kid. It's not hard."
"Since you were a kid?" There is a small, soft part yet to Doku, deep inside. His thoughts immediately ran to Lirin, and his heart ached just a bit for the man across from him.
Gojyo snorted. "You want my life story?" The silence stretched between them after that statement for a few uncomfortable moments. Gojyo glanced down at his watch. "Raincheck. I'll be late for work." He pushed his chair away from the table with a loud scrape and wiggled the fingers of his injured hand. "Thanks for the beer. Don't get up."
.
Notes:
Keistje: Next chapter will revolve mainly around Sanzo and Goku, and Nii. The comma is meant to denote that they definitely won't be appearing together. Eh heh. Glad you like my interpretation of Gojyo. I identify most easily with him and can't resist slipping into his skin more often than not. Indulgent me.
Missantroop: Eh heh, well, whatever floats your boat. Personally, I think it's kind of sad...
UltraM: Did I do okay? Gojyo-Jien dialogue isn't easy at all!
Mezi: Two days, two months, hey, whatever. I am updating now, and that's all that matters! Eh heh...
Anyway, today is now officially (it's 12:01 AM as I write) my one year anniversary of becoming a fanfiction dot net member! Which, to me, is majorly shibby. I've made it this long, so here's to another year! Notes to reviewers at the end, even though it's been two months. Eh heh.
.
The day was inhumanly, swelteringly hot. Yaone tottered between tables, balancing drinks on her tray and her body on her heels. This act was delicate and skilled, lending to a strength evident in her legs and her arms. She closed her hands around the cold drinks as she served them to customers, and would surreptitiously transfer the cold to her neck in some attempt to gain respite from the heat.
From time to time, she passed Ren on her way in and out of the kitchens. Though he was allowed to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, he was forced into long slacks and his shirt was buttoned to the collar. He mopped the sweat from his brow and gave her an easy grin, dramatically fanning his face. She would laugh and mimic the gesture. Whenever they had a free moment, they would stand under the air conditioning vent by the drink dispenser, reveling in the blast of cold air.
It was on her way to another quick respite that Yaone saw the table waving at her, snapping their fingers for her attention. She came to them with a practiced, bright smile and asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
No words escaped them but for the vulgar laughter and a few grunts of appreciation. A hot, meaty hand landed square on the curve of her derriere and bunched the fabric of her skirt under its fingers. Yaone darted away as if burned, but before she could get any words out Ren slid smoothly between her and the table.
"Excuse me, sirs, but Miss Yaone is overdue for her break. However, if there's anything you need to ask of me, I'll be quite willing to help. The name's Higurawa. Now if you gents will excuse me, I have other patrons to attend to." Ren slid his arm through Yaone's and pulled her away before her molestors could gather their wits.
Under the cold blast of the air conditioner, Ren put his face near Yaone's and asked, "Everything okay?" His shoulders were tensed, fists clenched in anger at his sides. But he would back down if Yaone didn't press the matter.
She looked away and twisted the ring on her finger. "That's not the first time it's happened anyway. I can take care of myself."
Ren shrugged, his easy grin a flash of white against tanned skin. "Can't help it if I think you shouldn't have to. At least, not all the time." He gave her a friendly nudge, knuckles to shoulder, and added, "I figure you've walked yourself home all this time without too much trouble, right?"
At that, Ren managed to wrench a smile at of Yaone. Satisfied for the moment, he let her alone and returned to the dining area. Yaone watched him go, shook her head, and turned her face to the ceiling vent for a few precious moments of cool.
.
Gojyo winced at the pain in his hand, unused to not being able to swing his arms as he walked. Returning bloodflow to his fingers meant the natural pendulum movement sent pain shooting from palm to fingertips. Doku noticed the intake of breath and masked his question with a statement. "You're sure you're all right."
Gojyo nodded, half-shrugging. "Been through worse." He looked about him in a habit he thought he'd shed a while back. Out of necessity, shaken from his confidence by a single encounter, his eyes raked the people around him, never lighting on one face for more than an instant. His look was not aggressive, forced to be so. He fought the urge to dart like a frightened, trapped animal, and instead walked in Dokugakuji's massive shadow. The muscle kept himself between Gojyo and the open street. It was a protective stance he'd adopted with Kougaiji, and this possessiveness felt natural.
Gojyo stopped when Doku's arm swung out in front of him, pushing through a door and holding it open for him. Gojyo hated that about him, hated the chivalry and the friendliness and the easy way he did these things for him. He'd noticed how they walked, how Doku kept pace with him even though he tried to change it, how Doku had one eye always upon him. He half-expected the muscle to pull his chair out for him, but this did not occur.
He did, however, take other presumptuous measures. "We don't need menus," he told their server. "Couple of blue-plates. I'll take water and he wants a beer."
As soon as the young man nodded and darted in the direction of the kitchens, Gojyo hissed, "Could of let me pick my own drink."
Doku smiled at him. "You seem like a beer-at-lunch kind of guy."
The worst part was, Doku was right. Gojyo shifted on the hard, wooden chair and turned to look through his reflection and into the street. He sat silent, avoiding Doku's eyes and pressing hard onto the palm of his injured hand. The drinks came.
The water came with a straw in it. Doku removed the plastic and took a sip from the brim of the glass, murmuring, "Dealing's gonna be tough, huh?"
Gojyo didn't move his head, but only his eyes. From under his mess of red hair, he growled, "Cut the crap. You're gonna ask about him, so ask about him. That's what you brought me here for anyway, right?"
Doku raised his eyebrows. "'Mitry? Couldn't care less. I brought you here because Reno thinks you're worthwhile and I'm curious. Seemed like a great time."
Gojyo snorted. "Your timing's impeccable. Really." Doku chuckled softly and shrugged. "How is she?"
"You miss her?" asked Doku. Before Gojyo can answer or refuse to dignify the question with response, he continued, "Just fine. Her brother's coming on hard times, though. She sends part of her paycheck to him now. He might be moving out here, just because he's been so often."
"He was very good at Hold 'Em," Gojyo commented, still staring out the window. A girl caught his eye and waved happily to him with a bat of her ebony eyelashes. He nodded slightly and continued watching the world outside and talking to Doku as if he were on the other side of the glass. Gojyo watched his own mouth in his reflection. "Funny thing, Dallas hitting bad luck. It doesn't sound like him."
"You knew him, then," said Doku.
Gojyo responded without thinking. "Fucked him." He shoved the mouth of the beer bottle into his mouth to prevent further talk. Doku let out a long breath. Gojyo finally turned his face to him and grinned a bit. "Kind of guy I am."
"Already knew it," Doku replied, "judging by the company you keep in dark alleys."
Gojyo frowned, bringing his good fist down hard on the table. "Things are different now. I don't have to explain myself to you."
Doku nodded. "No, you don't," he agreed. Gojyo turned again to the window, the dirty light filtering into their air-conditioned cocoon, heating the patches of skin it touched. Red eyes searched the streets, half-paranoid and half-angered.
He turned to the calm and open face across from him, gentle despite its attachment to a neck as thick as a tree trunk. "Stop being so Goddamn' agreeable about everything!" Gojyo snarled, irked to the core.
"Why?"
The food came then, on blue flatware. Two gigantic open-faced hoagies and side orders of fries. Gojyo wasn't hungry, and said so.
"What do you care?" asked Doku, digging in and swallowing before adding to his question. "I'm paying anyhow."
Begrudgingly, Gojyo ate a fry. And then another. He took a swig of beer and stared down at his plate. "You can't let me fight you on anything, huh? Why's that?"
"I fight enough." Doku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I play Blackjack with worse people than you, so let me enjoy this."
Gojyo's eyes opened a fraction wider. "Blackjack. You've got it on the nose. That's what this is about, huh?"
"One Blackjack table in the whole joint and it's got to be yours. It's got to be our favorite game. But we're lucky because nobody would believe you if you told them." Doku raised both his eyebrows and Gojyo bit back a comment to the contrary. "I don't like mixing you up with those people. What happened today wasn't your fault."
"Bullshit." Gojyo shook his head, meeting Doku's eyes with his own piercing glare. "It would have happened to me sooner or later. We've got a history, Dimitry and me." He grinned at Doku, looking lopsided and wolfish. "And anyway, there's nothing unconscionable going on between any of you, so there's nothing for me to be mixed in with, right?"
Doku nodded. "No, there isn't. You're right."
Without his permission, Gojyo had eaten half of the sandwich on his plate. He looked down at it in mild bemusement, not remembering when he had eaten it. He licked mustard from the corner of his mouth and murmured, "So what exactly is it that nobody would believe my retelling?"
Doku glared at him. "Thin ice."
"You bribing me?" asked Gojyo, pointing to the plate. "The whole savior bit, the beer, the food, the getting all buddy-buddy." Gojyo rubbed his nose, taking another drink from the bottle at his elbow. "I've been playing this game since I was a kid. It's not hard."
"Since you were a kid?" There is a small, soft part yet to Doku, deep inside. His thoughts immediately ran to Lirin, and his heart ached just a bit for the man across from him.
Gojyo snorted. "You want my life story?" The silence stretched between them after that statement for a few uncomfortable moments. Gojyo glanced down at his watch. "Raincheck. I'll be late for work." He pushed his chair away from the table with a loud scrape and wiggled the fingers of his injured hand. "Thanks for the beer. Don't get up."
.
Notes:
Keistje: Next chapter will revolve mainly around Sanzo and Goku, and Nii. The comma is meant to denote that they definitely won't be appearing together. Eh heh. Glad you like my interpretation of Gojyo. I identify most easily with him and can't resist slipping into his skin more often than not. Indulgent me.
Missantroop: Eh heh, well, whatever floats your boat. Personally, I think it's kind of sad...
UltraM: Did I do okay? Gojyo-Jien dialogue isn't easy at all!
Mezi: Two days, two months, hey, whatever. I am updating now, and that's all that matters! Eh heh...
