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Bedtime Noises by Eternatis
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“Sanzo?”


The monk’s voice could have snap frozen hell. “No.”


It was bad enough that they were stuck staying at the pervert’s house, worse that Hakkai’s usual hospitality had deserted him, leaving the monk to try and find comfort on Gojyo’s battered sofa and Goku to make a nest on the floor, without the monkey talking all night. Gojyo had just carried a drunken brunette through to his bedroom - and, Sanzo thought, she must have been drunk to let the kappa carry her anywhere - Hakkai had bid them all a good night and vanished into some other part of the house.


Goku didn’t exactly quail, but the wriggling lump of blankets froze for a moment, then shifted and squirmed until a pair of wide gold eyes could peer out at him.


“Could you talk t’me or something?”


“Didn’t I already answer that?” Sanzo closed him eyes firmly and tried to ignore what sounded like faint thumping against a wall in the direction of Gojyo’s bedroom. “And didn’t I already tell you to get your ass in bed and go to sleep?”


“Yeah... But...”


There was a muffled shriek at the other side of the house, and Sanzo rolled over to glare at the door. If Hakkai found the paint blistered the next morning, then he would just have to live with it.


“But that.” Goku stuck an arm out of his nest, fumbling around until he found one of his shoes and hurled it straight at the bedroom door. “Shut up you stupid pervy kappa!”


If it had hit, then blistered paint would’ve been the least of Hakkai’s worries. Fortunately, Goku only hit the wall - and knocked off some of the plaster, but they could always blame that on Gojyo.


Who was, presumably in revenge, coaxing another not-so-muffled shriek from the woman.


“Tomorrow, I’m going to kill Hakkai,” Sanzo grumbled. Goku knew better than to ask why - he’d seen the man confiscate Sanzo’s gun and fan. “Then I’m going to kill that pervert. Then I’m going to kill that bitch he’s with.”


The noise faded off, returning to slow, rhythmic creaking. How Hakkai coped with it all the time...


“He did that last time we stayed too.” Goku grumbled. “Only you were in the room next to him and you had t’gun, so he has t’shut up. And Hakkai was in here talking t‘me so I'd ignore it.”


Sanzo grunted and rolled over, considering who to shoot first.


“He told me a -” Goku interrupted himself with a yawn. As soon as the pervert shut up, he’d be asleep. “ - A story. Bout a princess, and she got - “ Another yawn. “Kidnapped, and the prince had to go save her.” The monkey thought for a moment. “I liked it. But the prince didn’t get there in time so the princess died, so the ending sucked.” He nodded, stretched, curled up into a ball under the blankets again. For a moment, the monk thought he might’ve gone to sleep, until a muffled voice asked. “Sanzo? D’you know any stories?”


“No.”


Goku sat bolt upright, blanket over his hair, looking horrified. “Why not?”


“Because no one told me any. I was smart enough to figure out that it was easier to sleep without someone talking all the time.” Which wasn’t actually true. His master had told him a handful of stories when he was a child, and still young enough to curl up at the end of his bed when he had a nightmare, much like Goku did.
But, unlike Goku, he’d been able to get hints.


“Can’t you make one up?”


“No.”


“Please?”


What sounded like the prelude to a banshee wail was building down the corridor, and Goku was starting to look nauseatingly awake. Sanzo sighed, rolled onto his back and strived to remember anything that could’ve passed for a story.


“Once upon a time...”


Goku nodded, hugging the blanket around himself. Sanzo’s mind had gone blank.


“Once upon a time...”


The woman screamed, and the paint did blister this time, and Goku’s other shoe smashed into the wall again. The noises stopped.


“Once upon a time they all lived happily ever after. Now shut the hell up and go to sleep.”


Goku nodded and vanished under the blankets. And, as the blond monk dragged the pillow over his head, he could’ve sworn he heard Goku mutter something about that being the perfect sort of story. The monk snorted, and went to sleep.


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