A/N: A short sort of crackfic that came to me due to something I saw while walking home. A little break from Gaiety because much as I love the fic I'm wondering what else to do with them next. I wanted it to be really cracked, in the haha-that-was-lame way, but it got away from me and I end up with this...just read. You decide.
Gojyo was about a quarter of a mile away from his house, returning from a few errands when he noticed a few drops of blood on the path leading home. They were almost too insignificant, but ever since that incident he's rather sensitive to blood. Especially blood on the road. Look where that led to that time. He didn't think he would find another human specimen bleeding heavily with intestines on the wrong side of the border (besides once is rare enough; but twice? He's lucky; it shows in those card games, but he didn't think he would be that lucky. Or unlucky. Or lucky.) but it caught his eye enough to make a small notch in his brain.
A few feet ahead he finds another drop. And another. And another. And the drops are gradually increasing in number and size. It's starting to perturb him, growing to a nagging itch in his mind. He frowned; puzzled but not really worried. Yet.
The drops continue to appear with amazing regularity; as though someone had walked along the path and dripped red paint at certain fixed intervals, making sure to drip one or a few drops carefully, each one a perfect splattered drop. But nobody would that dumb or insane, or go all the way in just to do that. His house is not exactly easily accessible. In fact, it's a terrible nuisance when he's drunk, for example, to have to make his way back when the road seems endless.
It's blood, unmistakably so, growing crusty and brown around the edges, thick and viscous, and if he'd knelt down and sniffed he would recognize the metallic tinge of it, having lived with copious amounts of it for a period of time, the rank smell lingering persistently in his bedroom. Hakkai would've told him it was due to the iron present in the blood that gave blood its metallic quality, and as for why the sight of blood was imprinted so deeply in his memory that it so was easily triggered, well memories formed during emotional times tend to be more intense and they leave a more profound mark in memory.
Having a man whom you've just rescued bleeding all over your house and dying in your room could be argued as a significant event. And waiting while not knowing if he was going to die could certainly count as a trying, emotional time.
He's getting closer to home now, unconsciously speeding up to a brisk stride, the idea that -something- might be wrong is dawning on him. The drops of blood are occasionally smeared, leaving brown streaks and he has to watch where he steps to avoid treading on blood.
He doesn't know what could have happened; doesn't dare to think of it. His mind is a blank, trying futilely to figure out what happened? He refused to let his mind wander near the worst but he can't come up with an alternative explanation for it either and it's making him antsy. Footsteps are coming down heavier and hastier.
Just a couple of feet more, he can see the door ahead, he's almost there now-
a puddle of blood coagulating, taunting him, lots of droplets drizzled everywhere
-and he's really in a frenzy now, puts in one last burst of speed, nearly tears the door down in his fervid attempts to unlock the door, fumbling with uncooperative keys, grits his teeth, finally!
He barreled through the doorway, slamming the door wide open to see:
Hakkai calmly arranging the dishes on the dining table, preparing for lunch, turning around when he heard the door being slammed open. He saw Gojyo, smiled and chimed, "Gojyo. You're just in time. Go wash up and we can have lunch." Hakkai's eyes traveled downwards, then up, took in the whole scene, then filled with concern, "Why do you look so flustered? Is something wrong?"
Gojyo didn't know what to say. More accurately, he seemed to have lost his voice. A number of thoughts were fighting to gain dominance in his head, to be voiced out; as a result nobody won; nothing came out. Wha-You're fine!-then what's with all that blood-my god I was so freaked out-damn I was worrying for nothing-everything's ok-is it?...
Hakkai came closer towards him, asking anxiously again, "What's wrong Gojyo?"
He blurted out, "The blood. Outside. The house."
"Oh." Hakkai grinned. "There was a, shall we say, slight accident when I was coming home from the market earlier."
He frowned, "What happened? Are you okay?"
Hakkai chuckled. "No, I'm fine, it wasn't me. I was walking home with a chicken. A chicken that I thought was dead. It must've been dripping blood on the way home but I didn't notice at first. Half way though, it suddenly flapping around and gave me quite a shock. I tried to make my way home as quickly as I could, but it jumped out right outside the door terribly injured, so I had no choice but to kill it immediately. There was a bit of a struggle, which explains the blood. Ah, I've forgotten about that, I meant to clean it but I was so eager to get the chicken cleaned and cooked it slipped my mind."
"I wanted to try out a new recipe, and it required a whole chicken," he added as an afterthought.
Gojyo was trying desperately to keep up with the new developments, hindered by the part of his thoughts which kept harping on how He's fine! Nothing's wrong! I was just worrying too much. Outwardly he remarked nonchalantly, "Ok. Got me worried for a while back there."
Hakkai looked apologetic. "Ah, I apologize for making you worry unduly. I'm perfectly fine."
"No you're not," he caught hold of Hakkai's hand, and lifted it for a closer look, "You're cut."
"Oh, it's nothing. Just a minor scratch." Hakkai tried to wave him away, but he refused to be put off, forcing Hakkai to sit down and not move while he looked for the first aid box, Hakkai helpfully giving him directions.
He sat down next to Hakkai, took his hand and fiddled with plasters and gauze, grouching, "You're always so stubborn."
Hakkai quipped, "Then you must finish all the food so my efforts don't go to waste."
"Baka. When do we not appreciate your food? You don't have to go to such troubles…simple food is good enough," and Hakkai was kind enough for once not to remind him of when that was not the case.
Still, all in all, he had to admit it was a nice change; though anything Hakkai made was excellent, and this was no exception.
When he licked the very last drop, it was because he'd promised Hakkai he would, he told himself.
Hakkai just smiled.