Much thanks to Isil Elen for a large amount of input on Hakkai's part in this, but then, she's already gotten the title "Mistress of Hakkai Angst" on her fic, "Here Lies Gonou". Shameless return plug! Shameless return plug! Wheee for more hungover bitchy Sanzo POV…

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I wake up to my door opening a bit earlier than what's normal for Goku's "If you sleep any longer we'll miss breakfast!" calls. For some reason, it's Hakkai's voice talking quietly at the door; the blanket's warm where the sun's just starting to come in at sunrise, my head's reached an old familiar state of aching pain, everything's stiff and the vaguest thought of food sets my stomach into conniptions.

"Oh, and Goku - it would be much appreciated if you could find what's on this list for me in town." Translation - "I'm going to want to deal with this alone, I need you to clear the area."

Silent pause; I'm not opening my eyes or doing anything to betray that I'm awake. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll get it, dunno how long it'll take." Translation - "I get it, you're getting rid of me, just do something about this." The door shuts, there's quiet footsteps over to the chair and table by the bed, he sets something down, and sits down in silence.

Not getting up yet. Not dealing with this. I'll get up on my own bloody schedule, and find out why he's here then. He'd been staying with Gojyo; someone must've told him to come out here, and the only thing I can think of is that the Temple must've somehow convinced him to come out here and fetch me, knowing that I won't blow him off the way I would the higher priests.

The sun moves….and continues moving…and passes out of range of the window, all without a single movement from Hakkai, who's still sitting by the bedside, waiting for me to wake up. I'm not going to get out of this, not without putting him through more trouble than I want to be responsible for.

I crack one eyelid; he's sitting as calm and unruffled as if he'd just arrived, with the same bloody quiet smile that's become about as permanent on him anymore as my death glare on me. "Good morning!" There goes any chance of not betraying that I'm awake.

I close the one eye again and growl, "It's afternoon."

"Oh dear, then I'll have to ask the innkeeper's wife to cook you lunch instead of fresh breakfast." He waves cheerfully at the covered tray sitting on the table. "I'm afraid this one got cold." He…brought….food. There's a pang of nausea; I curl closer into the blanket with a pained whimper. The smile shifts the barely noticeable half degree from blithely ignoring my crankiness to chiding. "You have to eat, and no arguments! You've been drinking without eating, and if you keep that up, you'll put a hole in your stomach - and then you'd have to give up alcohol entirely!" Wonderful; in becoming Cho Hakkai, he became the mother I never had. Give up alcohol and I give up food; I wince and give a defeated moan.

"Come on, let me help you up." He pulls the blanket off, leaving me with an obnoxious chill and giving some warning before he touches my shoulder to help me sit up through all the aches and complaints, hands glowing; the headache and pains are already starting to dissolve. "You'll feel better after a hot bath and fresh clothes." With the hangover aches lessened, other things start standing out; like that my undershirt's reaching a point where stains become visible on black. When was the last time…probably close to the last time I was sober. I can actually spot a tangled knot in my bangs hanging in front of my eyes as Hakkai moves out of sight to the bathroom.

I shove the blankets more out of the way and lurch out of bed, putting a hand on the table to steady myself. Now that I'm trying to move, my limbs are remembering that they hurt, although it's not as bad as it would've been; there's a vague sense of the room wobbling in vertigo, impossible to tell whether it's the alcohol, the hangover, or how little I've been eating lately causing that. I hold still leaning on the table until my vision quits trying to weave, by which time Hakkai's on his way for the door out of the room; he stops with one hand on the doorknob, acting just cheerful enough for the mood to grate on the hangover. "I've heated the water for you. I want to see you in that tub when I get back! I'm just going to ask that nice lady to start cooking your lunch." Yep. Mother mode. I growl a response, not really bothering to talk; he disappears out the door.

Part of me wants to argue; I hate taking orders. But there's not really any way to get around it; I'm a mess, and likely would've done this anyway whenever the dreams laid off enough for me to consider getting sober, with a lot more aches, pains, and hassle, and Hakkai's not even harassing me over it like some others would. I manage to make it to the tub with a minimum of weaving through the wobbly balance, dropping my rumpled clothes next to it; setting on a stool off to the side, Hakkai's already managed to find and lay out clean clothes.

I settle into the hot water, the steam making the threat of light headedness a reality for a few seconds. Eyes closed, I just rest that way for a few minutes, letting the heat unknot some of the cramps and stiffness. About when I get around to trying to get clean, Hakkai returns to the main room, coming and going, cleaning up. He shouldn't be cleaning up after me; I'm not supposed to make other people take care of me. Pangs of guilt start creeping in around the edges of the half-faded headache. I'm tempted to tell him to leave the room go, I'll deal with it, but I know he wouldn't let me get away with that; I can think of two or three ready excuses off the top of my head that I wouldn't be able to refute, and he's probably got several more. The sooner I'm out of the tub, the sooner I can start trying to take care of my messes.

After I'm done, there's still movement in the main room; I glance out to make sure Hakkai's not in sight of the bathroom appendage, grab the towel, and get out. I catch glimpses of my reflection in the old brass-framed mirror hanging on the wall while I'm getting dressed; even clean I look like death warmed over. I could almost count my own ribs in places, my hair's got more than one rat's nest, the beginnings of scraggly whiskers are showing, reminding me that I'm one of those people that was never meant to stop shaving.

I walk back into the main room, ready to tell Hakkai that I'm fine and he can quit fussing over me, and find it completely cleaned and straightened. He's waiting, still smiling quietly, eyes closed, by the table and chair, the covered breakfast tray replaced by a tray with my straight razor and everything else.

This is just going too far.

I raise a hand, to lend emphasis to my protests, and realize my hand is shaking; there's a good inch wobble. An internal debate starts - damnit, people aren't supposed to worry about me that much, I'm supposed to take care of myself, if I wanted servants waiting on me, I'd go back to the temple or take on a couple of the more sycophantic students -

- I wasn't completely crashing and burning, I just wasn't keeping myself up, if he sees my hand shaking I'm doomed, I'm lucky I don't have scars from the last few times I remembered to shave after letting myself go like this, I hate seeing blood when I'm strung out like this even if it's my own, not when I'm not trying to hurt myself.

I stalk over and slump in the chair, hands folded in my lap, giving up; I know where that train of thought goes, and I'm not following it when there's someone around to see it. He wouldn't go away if I argued anyway, not after coming all the way out here like this. I close my eyes and let him work, relaxing in spite of myself. Somehow, it manages to be my own damn fault; if I'd put at least a little effort into taking care of myself, then Hakkai wouldn't have had a reason to go mother-mode on arriving, and wouldn't have gone to all this work over me when it's supposed to be my job to take care of people. I might be lousy at that, but if nothing else, I need to be less lousy at not getting other people putting themselves out for me.

By the time I'm vaguely presentable, he ducks out saying something about lunch; I try to follow him out after the door shuts, and end up running into him as if he'd expected me to do that, smiling cheerfully with one finger to his lips.

"Now, don't worry, I'll bring it here - you just rest." He nudges the door shut.

I walk back to the bed and sit down; he'd been doing more healing-work getting rid of the aftereffects, although the light-headed hasn't gone away yet, so that part's probably from not eating.

He comes back with the tray again; soup, soft bread, and more than one glass of juice, a clear hint to get fluids and stop drinking for now. I start picking over it, trying to ignore the nervous twitches my system is still having at the idea of food. Damnit. At least when I get sick from doing stupid, I can't control the sick part, but this…I did this to myself, and got the same end results, forcing someone to deal with my problems because I wasn't doing it myself.

There's a temptation to fall back into brooding on the past. "So why did you come all the way out here?" The temple had to've told him, I'm asking to distract myself.

"Ah…I had some very high-ranking visitors."

"….Figured." The soup's not bothering me as much as I'd been worried about; but then, it looks like he intentionally picked up food that wouldn't risk making me sick. "What'd they want?"

"I'm afraid they didn't tell me." He pauses, something uncomfortable creeping past his smile; it's like he's trying to find a way to say something without coming straight out and saying it. "Or rather…once I heard you were staying here again, I was horribly impolite and didn't let them finish." He's going over every word carefully as he says it.

So he didn't give them time to give him any messages to relay…just came to pick up the pieces when he heard I was trying to crawl in a hole and vanish again.

Fuck…why do people keep worrying about me?

"I take it this means I'm going to have to face them to find out what they wanted."

"I'm sorry. I know how much you dislike spending time there; I shouldn't have been so impatient as to leave before hearing what else they had to say." He's backpedaling carefully. Damnit, this isn't his fault! He's just been caught in the middle.

"It's not your fault. I should've known I couldn't avoid them forever." There's an awkward silence. "Hakkai? You don't need to take orders from them. Try not to let them disrupt your life too much."

"If you mean about coming out here - I didn't give them a chance to ask. It was my decision to see how you were doing." Another carefully worded sentence, with a warning drop in how much of the guarded cheerfulness he keeps. It almost feels like he's throwing my own words from long ago back at me, except he has no way of knowing what I used to say when I was younger - my choice. My decision. "You will take care of yourself, right?" Not commenting on how I was when he found me, just nudging me about future actions. It's almost frustrating how easily he can cut off avenues for me to dodge. I'm not looking up at him, just watching the soup he brought.

"…Right."

"Good! Then I have nothing to worry about." Back to the old innocent cheerful act; he's gotten the answer he was fishing for, now he's not going to give me any purchase to get out of it. "Well, if you're going to be traveling to Chang An, I suppose I should head back home - when you're done eating, of course?" He's probably not just doing it to be polite; he's going to stay long enough to make sure I finish eating.

"Of course." Yes, mother…