Markerered 

by Helena Handbasket

            “This is the life.”  Gojyo stretched out his lanky legs and reached idly over his head to pour another ladle of water over the heated rocks in the brazier.  Steam billowed to fill the room, and he leaned back with a contented sigh.

            Hakkai wished he could feel that relaxed, wished he had ever felt that relaxed, but did his best to enjoy the rare moment of peace and the penetrating heat.  He looked down at his hands, intermittently obscured by wisps of steam, just to remind himself that they were not covered with blood.  They were clean except for the artificially long lifeline that Goku had traced out in permanent marker a few days before.  Ever since their first encounter with that demented fortune teller, Chin Yisou, his mind had been drifting to the past and the horrible night that had transformed him, but now that it was all over he was coming back, little by little, to the here and now.  He could now focus on more immediate issues, like trying to ignore the way the small towel around Gojyo’s waist hitched up and parted as he slid his foot along the finely sanded wooden bench to rest with one knee bent.

            Smiling at his own fatuousness and the absurdity of his desire, Hakkai closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tiled wall, letting the replenishing heat soak into his aching muscles.

            But his roiling thoughts were not the only impediment to relaxation.  Senses isolated behind closed eyes, he became suddenly aware of an irregular tapping.  Cracking one eye open, he glanced at the bench below his and saw that Goku’s good leg was unconsciously jittering.  In the countless years of his existence, the kid had never quite learned to sit still.

            “Knock it off,” Gojyo murmured dreamily, hurling a washcloth with flawless accuracy despite having one arm flung over his face.

            Goku’s reply was cut off by a surprised “Mmmph!” as the washcloth hit him square in the face.

            This was nice, Hakkai mused as his two companions erupted into a fit of squabbling.  This was normalcy.  This was just what he needed to regain his center.

            A muttered death threat silenced the bickering, but as Gojyo peered cautiously down at Sanzo, sprawled out on the lower bench, it was followed up by the faintest sound of a snore. 

            “So this is his idea of ‘meditation,’ eh?” Gojyo scoffed, glancing up at Hakkai and jerking his thumb at the sleeping Sanzo.  “This guy must belong to one lackadaisical-ass order.”

            “Hey, don’t knock it,” Hakkai laughed.  “Without his need for ‘meditation,’ he never would have let us stop over at this place.”

            They had run across the mountain spa by pure chance as they wended their way across the otherwise uninhabited range.  It was well-appointed for such an out-of-the-way facility, complete with saunas and hot springs and heavily-traveled trails for hiking around the nearby lake.  Coming as it did as an oasis out of the blue, Hakkai and the others had been confident that Sanzo would make them move on, but to their surprise he declared the imminent onset of some little-known holy day for which he would need to engage in deep meditation.  They would stop there for a few days, strictly for religious purposes, and not, he emphasized, to give Gojyo and Goku the chance to recover from their chest wound and broken leg respectively.  And most certainly not so Hakkai could “get over his goddamned brooding and move the fuck on.”

            “This stopover is about me, you assholes,” he had said, “so don’t start thinking that I’m going to go around spoiling you.  This isn’t a pleasure cruise, you know.”

            Sanzo’s concern for his companions had been unusually transparent, but none of them were about to throw away the chance for some much-needed R&R by pointing that out.

            “Man, he’s really out cold,” Goku remarked, tilting his head curiously to consider the snoozing monk.  “He’s not usually that sound a sleeper.”

            “It’s the herbs in the water,” Hakkai explained.  “They release a vapor that has a soporific effect for added relaxation, but it seems to have a more potent effect on humans than demons.”

            Goku frowned in confusion.  “Shopaholic?”

            “Soporific, you dolt.  It means Sanzo’s in sleepytime la-la-land.”  Gojyo chortled to himself and arched his back languidly as he settled back into a supine position.  The towel hitched again, and Hakkai blushed, grateful for the obscuring steam.

            Still dubious, Goku looked up at him.  “You mean Sanzo isn’t going to wake up?”

            “Not unless we drag him out of here, no.  But an attendant will probably be by in an hour or so to check up on us.  That’s why there’s a time limit on using the sauna.”

            “Oh,” said Goku thoughtfully.  “So we have about an hour before he regains consciousness.”

            “About that, yes.”

            “Relish it with every fiber of your being,” advised Gojyo through a yawn.

            Goku was silent for a few moments, uncharacteristically deep in thought.  Then he said, “Hey, have you guys seen any mirrors in this place?”

            “No,” Hakkai murmured, “why?”

            Goku shrugged, but looked up at him with a mischievous smile.  “’Cause look what I still have.”  Triumphantly, he held up the permanent marker.  Hakkai glanced at Goku’s mostly-naked body, covered only by a small towel, and didn’t want to think about where he’d been hiding that thing.

            Gojyo cracked an eye open to see what was going on, and Goku arched an eyebrow, nodding significantly at Sanzo’s sleeping form.

            All drowsiness gone in an instant, Gojyo sat up abruptly and grabbed for the ladle, pouring another healthy dose of herb-laden water onto the rocks.  “Oh, yeah,” he said.  “Bring it on.”

            *           *           *

            “Sir?  Sir!”

            Sanzo’s groggy mind registered an irritating noise somewhere nearby, but it took him a moment to process it as rational speech. 

            “Sir, you’ve been in here for three hours.  It’s probably best if you get out now.  If you’re hungry, there’s a light collation in the tea room.”

            Reluctantly, Sanzo opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing his face drowsily.  He glanced around the room, finding that his companions had already departed, the pussies.  Couldn’t take the heat, eh?  Then he looked up towards the door and the sound of the voice, where a blue-clad attendant stood obsequiously in waiting.

            “Sir, you…”  His voice trailed off and he stared, opening and closing his mouth in fish-like confusion.

            “What’s your problem?” Sanzo demanded, fixing the attendant with his most dangerous glare.  When the man did not respond, he glanced idly over his shoulder, wondering whether there was a murderous demon poised to attack.  But there was nothing, just the empty bench that Gojyo had occupied during his last conscious memory. 

            “Uh… n.. nothing, sir.”  The attendant stammered out at last.  “It’s just that you’ve been relaxing in the sauna for quite some time.  I think you should…”

            “Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, struggling weakly to his feet.  He felt a little dizzy, still under the influence of his deep sleep, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this ass-kisser see that kind of weakness.  He staggered out of the sauna, the temperate air of the corridor chilly in contrast, and made his way to the dressing room to get back into his robes. 

            He dressed slowly, rolling his neck without the now-familiar snaps and pops that came of a hard life on the road.  Though he hated to admit it, the rest had done him some good.  Now he just had to find the others and make sure they weren’t doing anything to get them all kicked out of this joint.

            Dressed and refreshed, Sanzo headed for the tea room, not because he wanted to eat anything – sleep had sapped him of all hunger – but because he knew that where there was food there was Goku, and he had no faith whatsoever that those other two miscreants would be able to keep the monkey out of trouble.  The room was large, outfitted with a few dozen small tables and a long buffet along the far wall.  A couple of the tables were occupied, but none of the patrons were eating, just sipping tea.  He soon saw why: the buffet looked like it had been hit by a tornado.  Every plate and serving dish was empty.  Events could not have been any more obvious if the words “Goku wuz here” were spray-painted on the wall.

            At his entrance, the occupants of the room glanced up, stared, and looked hastily down again, some chuckling into their tea.  What the fuck was so funny?  His mind erupted in a litany of retorts.  “What, you’ve never seen a man in a dress before?”  “I will kill you, and I’ll enjoy it;” “I may be a monk, but you’re ugly, and I'll be sober in the morning;” “Shut up.”  But none of them seemed either as appropriate or as scathing as he had hoped.  His brain was still a bit muddled from sleep.

            Well, this was a bust.  So where next?  He noticed that while there was plenty of tea, no stronger libations were available.  If Goku wasn’t bitching about being hungry, the loudest voice of complaint would come from Gojyo, who would want to seek out either women or liquor.  Since this was a men-only spa, the former wasn’t an option, and he knew exactly where they would go.  Besides, he’d always suspected Hakkai was a closet booze-hound.

            Stomping out of the tea parlor, he shuddered as the room erupted with laughter behind him.  God, people were such idiots.  He wound his way through the corridors, passing inexplicably abashed guests and semi-stoic custodians with carefully down-turned eyes, until he reached the bar.  There those jerk-offs were, taking up three adjacent stools with their fat asses and driving the other customers away with their imbecilic laughter.  Gojyo was telling an off-color joke about a flatulence demon that had wandered onto an archery range.

            “… So the judge says, ‘We’ll have to cancel the competition.  There’s a foul wind blowing in from the west.’”  He laid his head on the bar and pounded it with his fist, while Goku snorted in childish laughter and Hakkai smiled demurely, taking a sip of his sake.  What a bunch of assholes.

            When he sullenly approached and took a seat next to Hakkai, the laughter from Gojyo and Goku ceased and erupted again, while Hakkai’s mild smile wavered into pursed lips and back.  Recovering from his fit, Gojyo flung his arm around Hakkai’s shoulders and chortled, “Lookin’ good, boss!”

            Damn.  Just how drunk was he?

            At this juncture, the bartender approached and said, “Good evening sir, may I get you a…”  His eyes widened, but he maintained the semblance of his features as he finished, “… drink?”

            Goku was still laughing, no doubt fueled by a food-induced endorphin rush after wiping out the buffet.  In order to counteract this shameless behavior, Sanzo held himself with the utmost pomp and dignity as he answered, “Sure.  What have you got?”

            “Well,” said the bartender, clearing his throat.  “We’ve got a special on Hairy Wallbangers.”

            “Harvey Wallbangers,” Gojyo corrected, his voice slightly slurred.  He looked sideways at Hakkai and said, “Heh.  Wallbanger.”

            Oh, for fuck’s sake.  Gojyo was intolerable enough when he was sober.  The only way for Sanzo to counter his irritation was to get piss-assed drunk himself.  “What do you have with grain alcohol?”

            The bartender considered for a moment, rubbing his chin as he rolled his eyes heavenward.  Then his eyes lit up with inspiration and he said, “How about a ‘Bearded Boy?’  That’s grain alcohol, whiskey, vodka, and water.”

            Perfect.  “That’ll be fine.  But go easy on the water, willya?”

            “Got it.  Less ‘Boy,’ more ‘Beard.’  Be right up, sir.”

            Gojyo and Goku were laughing hysterically again, while Hakkai made several attempts to take a drink, all of which were thwarted by the fact that his neck was trapped in the crook of Gojyo’s elbow, which jerked his head erratically from side to side.

            The bartender brought the shot, and Sanzo threw it back, tapping the glass for a refill.

            Having finally recovered his capacity for speech, Goku said, “Have a nice nap, Sanzo?”

            “Whatever.  Thanks for just leaving me there.”

            “Oh, we knew an attendant would come nosing around eventually and rouse you out,” Hakkai said pleasantly, a remark which inexplicably dissolved the others into another round of laughter.

            “Yeah, we knew the staff had a handle on things,” added Gojyo.  More laughter.  Assholes.  He didn’t need to put up with this.

            Sanzo downed his newly arrived drink, rose primly, and strode out of the room, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder at the bartender.  “Put it on their tab.”

            “Yes sir!” he replied.  “Come back tomorrow morning if you need a little hair-of-the-dog.”

            The explosion of laughter pursued him down the corridor.  Why the fuck did he tolerate them?

            *          *          *

Gojyo was drunk.  Not a little drunk, but a lot drunk.  So drunk that it seemed like a great idea to smuggle a few bottles of tequila out of the bar and invite Goku and Hakkai, especially Hakkai, back to his room for some after-hours consumption once last-call had come and gone.

            “Can you believe Sanzo?” Goku snickered into his glass of orange juice, surreptitiously spiked when Hakkai wasn’t looking.  “He had no clue.”

            “So?  What’s new?”  Gojyo took a swig directly from the bottle, feeling the alcohol burn his throat.  He glanced over at Hakkai, whose face was obscured by a small wooden bucket intended to hold ice.  He wouldn’t drink from the bottle, and that was the only remaining receptacle available.  Still, he didn’t appear remotely drunk.  How did he do it?

            The three of them were sitting on the floor, with the bottles in the center.  He noticed that Goku was swaying slightly, even sitting down.  After a spell of incessant pleading at the bar while Hakkai was in the bathroom, Gojyo had begun slipping him portions of his drinks, mostly out of curiosity as to what would happen if the little ape got drunk.  He was seeing it now, and it wasn’t particularly pretty.

            Gojyo slouched back contentedly, head lolling against the bed.  He knew he’d have a killer hangover in the morning, but he didn’t care, erasing his lingering concerns with another swig of tequila.  His outstretched foot brushed against Hakkai’s calf, and he didn’t move away.  If Gojyo had been sober, he would have taken that as a positive sign.  As it was, he took it as an embossed invitation to fuck him blind.  If only the monkey would pass out, his life would be perfect.  As Hakkai’s face again disappeared behind the bucket, Gojyo hastily sloshed another few fingers of tequila into Goku’s juice.

            “Perhaps it was a bit cruel,” Hakkai suggested, though the earnestness of his statement was undermined by the amused smirk that spread across his lips.  Those beautiful lips.  Suddenly, Gojyo was glad that Hakkai wasn’t drinking out of the bottle – he wasn’t sure he could take the sight of those lips wrapped around something... appropriately shaped.  He looked down at the bottle clutched in his hand – it had a rim and everything.  Without thinking about what he was doing, he rubbed the rim against his lower lip, feeling the jutting contour against his skin and imagining it as something slightly – only slightly – more pliant and soft.

            He glanced to the side and noticed that Hakkai had halted mid-drink, and was watching him.  The stare bored into his chest, his heart-rate quickened, and sweat suddenly beaded his brow.  His liquor-sodden mind swam for a moment, then latched on to the most immediate sensation it could find.

            “It’s hot in here,” Gojyo mumbled, tugging at his shirt.  “Isn’t it hot in here?”  He pulled the shirt over his head, and flung it over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the pain.  His chest wound was mostly healed, but it sometimes gave him a kick if he lifted his right arm too high.  A few meters away, Hakkai regarded him with brotherly concern.  Not exactly the reaction he was looking for.

            “Yeah, it is kinda hot,” Goku piped up, pulling his own shirt off and toppling sideways, using the garment as an ineffectual pillow.  Rather than drifting to sleep, he patted his stomach percussively.  Definitely not the reaction Gojyo was looking for.

            “I’m warning you, monkey, the pants stay on, or I’m dumping you naked into Sanzo’s bed.”

            Goku laughed off the threat, but his eyes drifted elsewhere for a moment before he said, “I don’t like guys with facial hair.  It’s scratchy.”

            Now that was funny.  Gojyo snickered drunkenly into the bottle until Hakkai said, “It’s not so bad.  Actually, it feels kind of…”  Then his eyes widened in embarrassment and vanished behind the bucket.

            Now this was interesting.  Unless Kanan had been one of those chicks with a beard, this could be very interesting.  Maybe Hakkai was a little bit drunk after all.  Gojyo's lips again caressed the bottle’s rim, wrapping around it to take a drink until he thought better of it – if tonight went how he hoped it would go, he’d need to sober up a bit.

            “Ha, ha!” Goku chuckled, covering his mouth and pointing.  “Hey Hakkai – Gojyo’s sucking off the tequila bottle.”

            Gojyo flushed in mortification, hastily setting down the bottle, while Hakkai sputtered into this bucket.  Goku continued to laugh as Hakkai choked and gasped for air.  Taking advantage of the distraction, Gojyo emptied the remains of the bottle into Goku’s mug, diluting it to a semi-transparent orange.  The kid had to be put out of commission, like, immediately.

            In gratitude for this act of generosity, Goku pounced, straddling Gojyo’s hips and pinning him down.

            “Hey!  Get off!  Unlike some people, I’m not a pedophile.”

            Goku scowled in affront.  “I’m over five hundred years old.”

            “Yeah, well I’m not an old-codger-o-phile either.”

            “Relax,” Goku slurred with a drunken giggle.  “I’m not molesting you.  I’m markering you.”

            “Markerering?”

            Before Gojyo could process what was happening, Goku had whipped out his permanent marker from some undisclosed location and was scrawling something across his bare chest.

            “Stop it!  What the hell?”  He shoved Goku away, but it was too late.  A symbol was emblazoned across his chest in black, indelible ink. 

Gojyo squinted at it, trying and failing to read it upside-down, until Hakkai helpfully provided, “Pervert.  It says, ‘Pervert.’”

He glared angrily at Goku.  “’Pervert?!’  What the fuck?”

Goku snorted.  “What else am I supposed to call someone who gets busy with a tequila bottle?”

“That’s it!” Gojyo cried, leaping at Goku and wrestling the pen from his grasp.  Fighting against his hysterical struggling, he managed to scrawl “Shit-flinging monkey” on Goku’s bare chest.  Once the inscription was complete, he rolled away and took a satisfied swig from the next bottle.

Goku looked down at his markererered chest, face split by a grin rather than scrunched up in anger.  Then he looked up with a wicked smile.  “You’re next, Hakkai.”

Hakkai bit his lip and scooted backwards, as if a few inches would put him out of range of Goku’s determination.  “Hold him down,” Goku commanded, and for once Gojyo wasn’t going to object to being ordered around by a monkey.  Diving into an inelegant barrel-roll, he rose up at Hakkai’s side, hooking one arm around each shoulder.  Gojyo pulled him tight against his chest, rearranging his grip so that his left arm passed under one armpit and across his chest, firmly gripping the opposite shoulder, while his right arm was clamped tight over his abdomen.  He widened his legs and wrapped them firmly around Hakkai’s hips, holding him in place and pulling his ass to rest against an erection that was swiftly rising, despite the alcohol that coursed through his blood.

With a shit-eating grin, Goku unclasped Hakkai’s tunic, pulling it away from its prison beneath Gojyo’s grip, and scribbled something across his chest.  Hakkai, however, seemed to be more concerned about what was happening behind than in front.  Every time Gojyo pulled him closer, he squirmed in a manner that ostensibly constituted trying to get away, but in reality only stimulated him more.

Gojyo craned his neck forward, digging his chin into Hakkai’s shoulder so he could read what Goku had written.  When the angle proved impossible, he flung them both to the ground and flipped Hakkai over, pinning his protesting elbows.

“Driver,” he read, frowning and glaring up at Goku.  “That’s the best you could come up with?  Driver?!”

“It’s Hakkai,” Goku said with a shrug.  “How do you insult Hakkai?”

Gojyo arched an eyebrow, gaze fixed on Hakkai.  “Good question.”  Here, he leaned down to claim a kiss, his drunken urgency making him indifferent to Goku’s presence, but Hakkai turned his head before he could draw near.  Still sober enough to recognize a rejection, Gojyo drew back with a frown and said, “I’ve got one.  Gimme that marker.”

He pulled Hakkai back up into a sitting position and, just inside his left shoulder blade, wrote “Cock tease.”

Goku squinted at it, took a swig of his drink, and frowned uncomprehendingly.  Then he snatched the marker from Gojyo and wrote something on his side.

As he lifted his arm, struggling to discern it, Hakkai read, “Tequila sucker.”

“Oh, that’s creative,” Gojyo snorted, grabbing the pen to write “Shit head” on Goku’s back and “Shit-disturber” on his stomach.

“Hey!” protested Goku.  “Why does every phrase that describes me have to use the word ‘shit?’”

Laughing now, Hakkai obligingly took the pen, crossed out the “shit” in “shit-disturber” and replaced it with the word “excrement.”

Goku frowned at the correction dubiously.  “Um… thanks?”

Hakkai then wrote the word “Womanizer” just below Gojyo’s ribcage, twirling the pen thoughtfully before it was appropriated by Goku, who scrawled “Scarier than I look” across Hakkai’s forehead.

Hakkai retaliated by writing “Will annoy for food,” down Goku’s cheek, but Gojyo grabbed the pen, crossed out the word “annoy” and wrote the word, “shit.”

Though he had no idea what had just been written, Goku was smart enough to know that revenge was in order.  He wrote “Lush” and “Chain-smoker” at various spots on Gojyo’s back, coincidentally as he was trying to simultaneously take a drink of tequila and a drag of his cigarette.

Gojyo wrote “Psycho” and “Neat-freak” on Hakkai, which Goku followed up with “Mother hen.”

This activity continued until all three collapsed in a laughing pile of mutual, good-natured enmity.

            *           *           *

            The next thing Gojyo remembered was waking up with his head pillowed against something that was mostly soft, but not quite soft enough to suggest that he had made it back to his bed.  He pried his eyes open, and the blurriness of his vision revealed that he hadn’t been out for long.  Peering around the room, he noticed a distinct absence of monkey-shaped objects.  Looking up, he spotted Hakkai and what looked like his phantom twin brother, both smiling down at him in a placid welcome to consciousness.

            “Where’s Goku?” he mumbled.  It was all he could think of to say.

            “He fell asleep, so I put him to bed,” was the response.

            Gojyo struggled to sit up, resting on his elbows, but immediately realized his head had been much happier in Hakkai’s lap, and resumed his former posture.

            “How are you?” Hakkai asked pointedly.

            “A little drunk,” Gojyo admitted, rubbing his face.  His other hand roved downward so he could scratch himself, but encountered Hakkai’s hand along the way, resting casually on his bare stomach.  He lifted his head to glance at it, and noticed the stark, black markings beneath his fingers.  “Oh yeah,” he mumbled.  “That was dumb.”

            “I suppose so,” said Hakkai, gripping the ice bucket in his right hand to take a brief swig, “but it was fun, wasn’t it?”

            “Sure, I guess.”  He nuzzled more deeply into Hakkai’s lap, turning his cheek so that it rested against his groin.  The gesture was obvious, he knew, but he was too drunk to care.  The drumming of Hakkai’s fingers against his stomach brought the events of the evening more clearly to mind.  “Hey.  Do you really think I’m a womanizer?”

            “I don’t know.  Do you really think I’m a cock tease?”

            Gojyo froze, wincing.  He couldn’t believe he had written that.  But how did Hakkai…

            “Goku told me,” Hakkai explained.  “I think you’ll have to have a man-to-man talk with him in the near future.”

            Squeezing his eyes closed, Gojyo shook his head.  “The kid knows what ‘sucking off’ means, and to avoid men with facial hair.  I don’t think he needs…”

            “It was a joke, Gojyo.”

            “Oh.  Good.”

            Gojyo sighed contentedly, nodding his head so that his cheek brushed back and forth against the front of Hakkai’s pants.  He reached up to give him a friendly pat on the chest, but as his pinky brushed against a nipple, it stiffened, accompanied by a corresponding stiffening in the fabric beneath his cheek.  Gojyo’s dick twitched in response, and Hakkai’s hand began to move softly, hesitantly, across his stomach and up his ribcage, fingers tracing the contours of his pectorals but carefully avoiding his nipples as it returned to its original spot on his abdomen.

            Gojyo had no such instinct of self-denial, and he allowed his hand to rove across Hakkai’s chest, pausing to tease one of his nipples with his thumb, an act that elicited a soft gasp of pleasure.  Without breaking flesh-to-flesh contact, he slid his hand up Hakkai’s chest, along the side of his throat, and over his jaw, until his hand rested against his cheek, and he could push his thumb gently but insistently into his mouth.  After a brief resistance of teeth, Hakkai accepted the offering, tongue running along well-worn calluses as he gently sucked, and Gojyo tried his damnedest not to dig his fingernails into Hakkai's cheek.  After a few moments, he removed his thumb and returned to the nipple, wetting it with Hakkai’s saliva and toying with it until it peaked, and he felt a hard insistence pressing against his cheek.

            Hakkai’s hand still roved Gojyo’s stomach, but on each pass, his fingers dipped a little further below his waistband until they brushed against him, only half-hard thanks to that fucking tequila.  It was as good an invitation as Gojyo could hope for, and he leapt up suddenly, grabbing Hakkai and throwing him onto the bed, ready to devour every inch of his flesh.  He kissed Hakkai’s forehead and his temple, trailing down his jaw-line and up his chin to his lips, where he was rewarded with an eager tongue, almost as firm as the hardness pressing into his groin as he straddled him.  Hakkai’s fingers gripped his shoulders, pulling him in close until he felt his nipples brush against hot skin.  Drunk as Gojyo was, he was certain he had never felt anything so stimulating in his life.

            To his dismay, Hakkai pulled away, pushing him back by his shoulders.  “You’re pretty drunk,” he said hesitantly.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  I don’t want you regretting anything in the morning.”

            Gojyo slipped his shoulders out of Hakkai’s grip and collapsed onto his chest, chortling.  “First of all, I’ve wanted to do this for years.”  He punctuated this statement by reaching between them and unfastening the top button of Hakkai’s pants with a definitive flick of his thumb.  “And secondly, you’re right.  I’m drunk.  Which means I may not remember this in the morning, and you get to seduce me all over again.”

            Hakkai’s eyebrows lifted in feigned surprise.  “Me?  Seduce you?  Now that’s a switch.”

            “You bet your balls you seduced me.”  Here, an indicative grab of said anatomical objects.  Gojyo’s smile wavered, then, and he looked into Hakkai’s eyes with inhuman sobriety.  “You seduce me with every action, every word you say.  You seduce me with every bite of food, every sip of wine, even the way you turn the blinkers on in the jeep.  Hell, you even seduce me when you go to the can.”  Feeling like a person outside of himself, listening but not in control of the words coming out of his mouth, he rested his head against Hakkai’s chest, listening to his heartbeat in a moment of perfect contentment.  “I love you, Hakkai.”

            Hakkai froze, cupping Gojyo’s cheeks in his hands, and bringing his face forward to examine his countenance, to evaluate his sincerity.  Then, his wary expression softened and he murmured, “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

            Gojyo waved his hand airily towards the floor.  “Blame the tequila.”

            “I will,” Hakkai replied, “but for the record, I love you too.”  Here, he pulled Gojyo’s face forward for a searing kiss before adding, “Not that you’ll remember in the morning.”

             “Maybe not.”  Gojyo shrugged awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to the words he’d longed to hear for so long, but never had the impudence to pray for.  “But how many guys can say they’ve made a half-demon the happiest man in the world… twice?”

            Hakkai just shook his head and kissed him, at first tenderly, but then with the increasing passion of pent-up need.  Gojyo felt as if he held the world clutched in his fist; he wanted to remember that moment, yearned to mark it as a milestone in his otherwise dismal life, but if he had to do it all over again, he wasn’t going to complain.  For now, he would live in the moment, relishing in the softness of Hakkai’s lips, and the heat of his body engulfing him.

            With no little reluctance, Gojyo broke the kiss, attending instead to the line down Hakkai’s throat, his Adam’s apple, the curve of his chest, and the ridge of muscle on his side, where his left pectoral rose out of the flesh like a monument.  As he kissed his way back towards Hakkai’s sternum, he noticed the faint taste of acetone and opened his eyes, tracing the stark symbol with one long finger.

            “Driver,” he murmured, reading it aloud.

            The right side of Hakkai’s mouth ticked into a smile, and in a flurry of motion, Gojyo was pinned to the bed, strong hands squeezing his forearms then sliding down to massage his biceps as Hakkai kissed him fiercely.  Hakkai thrust his hips forward, pushing his already apparent hard-on pointedly into Gojyo’s stomach.  “That’s right,” he said, “and judging from the amount of tequila you’ve had tonight, I’m thinking I’m the only one in any shape to drive.”

            Hakkai shifted downwards, hands sliding along Gojyo’s ribcage, and closed his teeth gently over his partial erection, the sensation barely perceptible through the thick leather of his pants.  Nevertheless, Gojyo gasped, and based on his response, it seemed like he might be able to work his way into a condition to drive after all.  For a moment, he considered reversing their positions, but the invigorating feeling of Hakkai’s hands pushing his pants over his hips, and the hot slide of his tongue against the length of Gojyo’s hardening shaft made him reconsider.  For tonight, he was happy to relinquish the driver’s seat to an obvious expert.

            *           *           *

            Sanzo slept unusually late, but still managed to make it to breakfast before Goku cleaned the place out.  He noticed that the other diners stayed conspicuously clear of him, claiming tables at the periphery of the room, as if being a Buddhist monk were the equivalent of carrying the plague.  Hakkai joined him midway through his meal, wearing a smile that contained layers upon layers of information, none of which Sanzo could interpret.  What was hard to ignore, however, was that he had the phrase, “Scarier than I look” boldly emblazoned across his forehead.

            “What’s up with the mission statement?” he inquired as Hakkai tucked hungrily into his plate of eggs. 

            Hakkai lifted his eyes and patted his forehead, as if he could see or feel the imprint of a fucking Sharpie on his face.  “Oh, that’s Goku’s doing.  We got a bit punchy last night.”

            “No kidding,” Sanzo snorted.  “You look like an idiot.”

            Hakkai tilted his head and merely beamed at him in that calm, collected way he had.  “Shall we visit the baths after this?”

            “Sure.  Why not?”

            The hot springs rapidly emptied at their approach, no doubt because Hakkai had all sorts of profane phrases scrawled across his chest, but Sanzo was more than happy to enjoy a few hours of relaxation without being surrounded by a passel of gawking tourists.

            “A bit punchy?” he scoffed, nodding at the extensive documentation that covered Hakkai’s flesh.  “Your entire psychological profile is laid out in indelible ink.”

            Hakkai laughed amiably.  “I imagine it will fade soon enough.”  He turned to retrieve a sponge, and Sanzo noticed a whole new set of inscriptions on his back, the lowermost of which read, “Property of Sha…”  The last characters disappeared beneath the towel, but Sanzo wasn’t stupid.  Hakkai probably didn’t even know it was there, but he knew exactly what that meant.  Sanzo had suspected it for a while now, but he was far from delighted to have his inferences justified in black and skintone.  He didn’t have time for this shit.

            Leaning back in the bath, he heaved a put-upon sigh and glared up sharply at an arriving patron, who gaped at them, choked with laughter, and hurriedly fled the area.  Idiot.  Hakkai, of all people, should know better than to prance around a mountain spa covered in indelible ink.

            *           *           *

            At Hakkai’s delicately-posed suggestion, which only Goku remembered, Gojyo and Goku decided to avoid Sanzo for the day.  Goku had no poker face at all, and even Gojyo didn’t have the stamina to avoid snickering at the pointy beard, ludicrous handlebar moustache, nose hairs, and bushy eyebrows they had conspired to draw on his face the previous afternoon.  So, after a late breakfast, they retired to the outdoor baths to soak up as much relaxation as possible before the monk made them hit the road.

            Submerged as far as regular breathing would permit, Gojyo blew bubbles in the still water, while Goku dove and frolicked in a most undignified fashion.  His longing for Hakkai’s presence was vehemently offset by his disinclination to spend time with Sanzo, who would eventually find out what they’d done and probably shoot them.  Still, he felt inexplicably content, but every attempt to reconstruct the events of the previous evening ended in the vague images of shirtless gamboling and blurred pen-strokes.  He remembered some of the inscriptions that covered Goku’s bare form; others, he did not.

            After an hour or so, a towel-clad Hakkai materialized in the doorway with an apologetic expression.  “We’re leaving soon,” he said hesitantly.  “Sanzo’s orders.”  With a shrug and a lingering glance at Gojyo – what did that signify? – he turned to go, and Gojyo noticed the words “Cock tease” written down the left side of his back in a scrawling hand.  It kind of looked like his handwriting, but the drunken penmanship was hard to make out.  Oh, God, he hadn’t written that, had he?

            “Okay!” chirped Goku brightly.  “See you later, cock te-“

            Gojyo hastily muffled this dubious endearment.  There was always the chance that Hakkai didn’t know about it.  “We will never speak of this again,” he growled under he breath.  As Hakkai’s back disappeared into the corridor, Gojyo caught a glimpse of “Property of…”

            ’Property of…’ whom?  Had that little rat Goku laid claim to…  Stifling these jealous thoughts, he muttered to himself and started to climb out of the spring, only to be waylaid by Goku.

            “Hey, there’s something written on your leg.” 

            Before Gojyo could react, Goku was latched on to his knee and peering up into the folds of his towel.

            “Get off, you little freak!  I’m not a pedophile.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”  Ignoring Gojyo’s attempt to shake him off, Goku peered intently at the illicit region of his rear inner-thigh.

            “Well if it came from who I think it did, it was a damned lie…”

            “’Property of…’” Goku began reading, then halted.  As Gojyo glared down at him, Goku's eyes widened, he blushed, and then let go of his knee.

            Gojyo yanked his leg away, feeling strangely violated as he strode across cool stone.  That monkey had no business sneaking a peek at his junk.  “What’s your problem?”

            “No… nothing,” Goku stammered.  “My mistake.  It was just a birthmark.”

            “Whatever,” Gojyo shot back.  “Let’s get going before the monk has a conniption.”

            *           *           *

            By noon they were on the road and trundling westward.  Sanzo was grudgingly satisfied to note that even Hakuryuu seemed to have benefited from the rest, and was purring along without the usual clunks and mechanical protestations.  Sanzo had spotted the beard, moustache, and other facial enhancements the moment he looked in the rearview mirror, and had bitched everyone out in an explosion of fury, insisting that they would not stop at another inn until the ink had worn away.  In retrospect, it was a rash decision, especially considering that among him and “Scarier than I look,” “Will shit for food,” and “Wanna see if the carpet matches the drapes?” he was by far the best for wear.

            Even considering their harsh chastisement, the occupants of the back seat were unusually quiet until Goku let out a gasp and patted down his vest.

            “What now, ape?” Sanzo snarled.

            “My marker!” Goku exclaimed, brows furrowing into an expression of pathetic remorse.  “I can’t find it!”

            Sanzo snorted complacently.  At least one thing had gone right.  “Just as well.  You’ve caused enough trouble with that…”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” Hakkai interrupted.  With a surreptitious glance at Gojyo, he murmured, “It just might turn up sooner or later.”

End.

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