*bows*. My thanks to all my brilliant reviewers. Half the fun of this fic comes from the perverse enjoyment I'm getting out of writing it, and the other half comes from reading those wonderful reviews. Go read them, if you haven't already. They're works of art. *runs off sniggering*.
Same disclaimers apply : This Fic is Not As Innocent As It Looks. Sf is being sarcastic and nasty and downright mean in writing it. sf has mutilated a perfectly good poem because of it. sf is laughing all the way to the... er... wherever fanfic authors go to count their profits. (What profits?)
If you haven't already guessed, it's Sanzo + fs (DUH!) because I can't find a more unlikely pairing in the entire series. General apology to Sanzo-sama : I'm so sorry.. I would have spared you the trauma if I could, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
And so The Awful Fic went on...
CHAPTER 4
It rained. And it rained. And it rained. Duhhh.
And Sanzo was pissed. Sanzo hated the rain with a vengeance, because he had Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and could't stand it when the weather went to the bad. In fact, Sanzo was the reason why people like us use the phrase 'Under the Weather'.
And Sanzo decided that he would rather be piss drunk than pissed. So he shotgunned [1] the first bottle of vodka and went in search of another.
[1] Shotgun - to drink, usually from the bottle, at one shot, without pausing for breath. Observational evidence suggests that the only faster way to get drunk is to shotgun through a straw. Nobody quite knows why.
***
In the meantime, fs was nursing her bottle rather more slowly (because unmixed vokda buuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrns, baby!) and sulking. And all the Big Bad Memories were coming back to haunt her.
Donkey years ago...
fs was drunk. fs was oh-so-freaking drunk that she completely failed to notice that someone had moved Cloud 9. So she leapt from Cloud 8, expecting a nice, soft landing on the pinky piece of fluff that is Cloud 9...
and SLAM, landed SMACK on her ASS on Earth.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Nothing wakes you up like a drop from 70,000 feet. Or higher.
Or rather, it would have been a definite improvement if she had landed on her ass on Earth. Instead, this fic being what it was, she landed on Sanzo.
Both : "WHAT THE FUCK?!"
And Sanzo, being the anorexic dude with the 56 cm waist, went staggering back and landed on his ass, netting a Big Phat Bruise in the process. And glared.
And fs, being so absolutely drunk that she was, promptly kissed him.
(sf : *whimper whimper whimper*
Muse : *whimper whimper whimper*)
***
Sanzo growled; the alcohol wasn't working fast enough to drive the memories away.
She'd kissed him. That bitch had kissed him. He'd never felt the same about human -- or angelic -- contact ever again. Hell, he'd never felt the same about the Gods.
Gods don't help you. They just come crashing down on you and kiss you.
Fuck.
He grabbed another bottle and shotgunned it. And another. And since he couldn't find any more vodka, settled for a very expensive bottle of Black Label Whisky.
(At this juncture, if you'd held a lighted match to his breath, you would have an instant flame thrower).
And he shtill whasn't dfrunk, shdamnit....
But he shwas shleepy enuff to conshider going to bed.
*shtagger shtagger shtagger*
Sho he shtaggered up the shtairs *hic* and back to his shroom *hic* *hic*... (wait, did I mention that he had to leave his room to go to the kitchen to get another bottle? Oh, I didn't? Good. I can't afford to have anything as detrimental as a *gasp* plot in this fic!)
*T*B*C*
(My god! This chapter is actually funny for its own sake! o_O)
Behind the scenes - (idea stolen from Doc's Hakkai flashbacks... if you're reading this, thanks! ^_^x)
No Angels Chapter 4, take one
Sanzo growled; the alcohol wasn't working fast enough to drive the memories away.
He grabbed another bottle and shotgunned it. And another. And another. And another. And another.
Sanzo, finally cueing in after the 7th bottle... : What the f***? Who filled these with distilled water?!
sf : Sorry, we needed extra wash bottles for chemistry practical ^_^;;;
***
No Angels Chapter 4, take two
Sanzo growled; the alcohol wasn't working fast enough to drive the memories away.
He grabbed another bottle and shotgunned it. And another. And since he couldn't find any more vodka, settled for a very expensive bottle of Black Label Whisky.
(At this juncture, if you'd held a lighted match to his breath, you would have an instant flame thrower).
*Gojyo sidles in and holds up a match*
*VOOOOOSSSSSSSSHHH*
...
A very long time later, after the flames are extinguished...
Sanzo to Gojyo : I guess it's a good thing. You look better with shorter hair.
Gojyo : It'll grow back -_-;;.
sf : Well, I did warn you. _.
***
No Angels Chapter 4, take three
Sho he shtaggered up the shtairs *hic* and .....
Lost his footing and went rolling down the stairs again... tra lalalala...
*SLAM SLAM SLAM*
Sanzo *very very pissed off* : OY! THIS IS NOT 'CROSSINGS', DAMNIT!
***
I have no idea where this is going, la di dah di dah dum dum dum... but then again, these fics don't require plots, just tons of cheesy romance! XD
PLEEZE R/R! *sniggers and disappears*