Title: spontaneous movement
By: Tyrne J
Series: GMSaiyuki
Note: an LJ-fic. Meaning, I wrote it on LJ. Yeah. actually written before the dragon jiffylube story, but I'm lazy and still randomly uploading the LJ-fics. Oh, well. In other news, I'm still not too happy with quickedit.
Disclaimer: written by a fan for fans only. go figure.
Something was bubbling over. Smelled like coffee.
He opened his eyes to a green sweater, thin folds over a pale, bony arm, and the lithe figure of someone familiar. Khakis.
The other was standing over the coffee machine, quietly pouring a cup. Beside him, on another table, a laptop, buzzing reedily and glowing in the semi-darkness. He could almost see the words on the screen. Tiny words, numbers. He remembered.
"Done yet?" His own voice cracked and sputtered, and he hated himself for it. The other turned around.
"Oh. You're up." Stating the obvious. He did, in fact, fall asleep while the other was working on his report.
"... Yeah." He moved to sit up, but then he felt a weight on his stomach. The stronger scent of coffee, right below his nose. Khakis and green sweater on his stomach, and one hand moving mug of coffee under chin. He knew the look he would see if he only looked up. He frowned.
That look was old, from the days he spent on the second floor of the library, third west bookshelf, next to the far eastern texts. It came from the copy machine most of the time. Unnerving.
There were two pairs of glasses next to the laptop; he could see them through the steam rising from the coffee. Foggy outside.
The weight shifted on his stomach, stretched to lean against his chest. The brush of hair tickling his chin. On better days, sunnier days -
He would have been annoyed.
The dripping of water falling, slowly, outside. Green cotton sweater shifting against his neck. The coffee, next to his face now, still warm, yet cooling, rapidly.
Finished final report on historical discrepancies in ancient Chinese literature.
"Hakkai."
"Yes, Sanzo?" The look, again, but this time he met it evenly.
"Be glad I don't have class today."
One hand up his shirt, the other pouring coffee onto it. Used sofa used to this sort of treatment. A low chuckle.
"Thanks for waiting."
(end)