An Inconvenient Lie

by Helena Handbasket

            Sanzo plodded down the temple steps, unable to do anything but shake his head in pissed-off bewilderment.  The Sanbutsushin had a seemingly endless supply of “jobs” they needed him to do – some were simple, others aggravating as hell, but this one?  This one was in another league.  It wasn’t so much the investigation itself – a string of artifact robberies was fairly typical fare – it was the means they expected him to use.  He couldn’t just shoot at people and yell.  He was expected to be personable.  And friendly, potentially very friendly.  Sanzo shuddered.  Like he could pull that shit off.

            Recently, he’d been able to foist off a lot of the heavy-hitting jobs on Gojyo and Hakkai, but Sanzo didn’t see that happening here.  Just the thought of the conversation that would require made him cringe, and he was sure they’d just laugh in his face, no matter how many metaphors he brought out to manipulate them.  No, he couldn’t get Gojyo or Hakkai to handle this one, but he was sure as hell disinclined to do it himself.

            He pondered his options on the long stroll back to Chang’an.  Somehow, refusal didn’t seem like an option – it never did with the three aspects – but he honestly feared he wasn’t capable.  Sanzo knew his strengths, and making nice with a bunch of jackasses in order to roust out a handful of criminals simply wasn’t among them.  As he mounted the steps, he was greeted by a manically enthusiastic Goku, who bounded down the beveled stone without a trace of care.

            “Hey Sanzo!  How was your meeting?  Are you going anywhere cool?  Can I come?  The monks here have been bitching again, and they’ll probably want to talk to you, but it was just a stupid vase, and anyway how expensive can they be?  If they’re so valuable, they shouldn’t put ‘em where people might happen to be running backwards.  So what’s going on?  Is there anything I can help with?  I bet you’re awfully…”

            Sanzo had instinctually zoned out on this litany of questions and confessions, but before he could give Goku a good smack with his fan, some internal censor halted his hand as the words, Is there anything I can help with? resounded in his consciousness.  He eyed Goku appraisingly.  The kid was clueless enough that it might just work, and he could certainly take care of himself if he got in a tight spot.  It was an asshole move, Sanzo knew, but he was desperate here.  He tried to smile warmly, but when that appeared to scare the crap out of Goku, he reined it back in and said, “Hey Goku – you hungry?”

            “Am I?!”

            It was only once Goku was stuffing his mouth with steamed pork buns that Sanzo rested his chin on his hands and proposed, “Hey.  You feel like doing me a favor?”

            *          *          *

            The thing about being a bartender, especially in a joint like this, is that you hear everything and you see more.  After a while you learn to ignore it, but every now and then something happens that goes down in the book of anecdotes.  I was serving up drinks on an ordinary night, working on the ledgers whenever I had a spare second, and keeping my eye on a rowdy table in the corner.  Nothing unusual.  But then the kid showed up.

            I was ringing up a round of tequila shots when one of my regulars piped up.  “Psst!  Ming.  You see the new meat that just walked in?”

            I glanced casually toward the door and spotted him.  He was a cute kid, with a mop of shaggy hair and big golden eyes that begged to be loved.  His body was on a knife edge between adolescence and manhood, toned and muscular while simultaneously fragile.  My first thought was that a kid like that would get eaten alive in here.  After more careful consideration, I decided that he either had no idea where he was, or that he was a professional.  The answer came soon enough when he sidled up to the bar.

            “One Beer, please!” he chirped.

            “I hope you mean root beer, kid,” I said.  “Your parents know you’re here?”

            He bit his lip in thought.  “Um.  Kinda?”

            I snorted and set the bottle in front of him, just waiting for the fireworks.  Pretty soon, he’d figure out where he was and bolt.  Either that or wind up in a rough situation, but that was none of my business.

            It didn’t take long before some random guy showed up to order a drink and planted himself on the stool next to the kid.  They engaged in pathetic bar small talk until another guy showed up and elbowed into the conversation.  By his second root beer, the kid was surrounded, chatting happily and completely clueless as to why he was making so many friends.

            As he was ordering his third drink, the kid said, “That’s a nice statue, Mister.  Where’d you get it?” 

            I glanced back at the familiar stone idol that graced the back of the bar.  It had served as something akin to a protective totem, a blessing, since I had first opened this place.  The curves of worn stone carried a wealth of memories, both good and bad, and it felt like an invasion just to have it remarked upon.  Plus, my job was to listen, not to talk.  So I said only, “Inheritance.”

            One of the other patrons provided, “Old Ming loves that piece of junk. Been in here for years.”

            Thanks, asshole, I thought, making a mental note to water down his next couple of drinks.

            “So you like sculpture, do you?” asked Runchuan, one of my skeevier regulars.  “You know, I have a pretty good collection myself.”

            “Really?” asked the kid with trusting delight.  “I’d love to see it!”

            Runchuan gave a well-practiced, humble shrug.  “It’s back at my place.  I can show it to you anytime – right now, if you’d like.”

            “Sure, Mister!”

            “Great.”  Wrapping an amiable arm around the kid’s shoulders, Runchuan escorted him out of the bar, to the disgruntlement of the rest of the crowd.

            Poor kid, I thought, he has no idea what he’s in for.  But I left it at that.  After all, it was none of my business.

            Turned out I was wrong.  Runchuan staggered in the next night with a black eye and a nose the size of a pig’s bladder.

            “Damn kid,” he grumbled, tapping the bar to demand a shot of the usual.  “Don’t ante up if you’re not willing to play.  That’s what I say.”

            “He was probably just confused,” I offered consolingly.  “What did he think of your sculpture collection?”

            “Funny, jizzball.”  He downed the shot and demanded another.  I poured it, even though I was damn sure I wouldn’t be getting a tip that night.

            *          *          *

            “No way, Sanzo, I’m not going back there.”  Goku sat on the floor, arms folded petulantly.

            Sanzo frowned.  “Was it really that bad?”

            “The place was fine.  I just don’t want to run into that creepo again.”

            A knot of guilt and dread solidified in Sanzo’s stomach, but he ignored it.  “Did something happen?”

            “No!  Well, not really.  I talked to a bunch of people who were all really nice, and then I met a guy who had a big sculpture collection, just like you said.”

            “And?”

            “And so I went over to his house to check it out, but all his sculptures were…”

            “Were what?”

            “Well let’s just say that they were pointy.  And they didn’t look anything like the missing artifacts you described.”

            “So he’s not the culprit.  What’s the big…?”

            “But then he tried to, like, I don’t know – lick me or something.  It was totally gross.  I told him to get away but he wouldn’t, so I kicked his ass and got the hell out of there.”
            Sanzo sighed.  In retrospect, perhaps he should have briefed Goku on the nature of that bar, at least a little.

            Goku’s brow furrowed and he looked up at him with remorseful eyes.  “I screwed up, didn’t I?”

            Eyes squeezed closed, Sanzo at last shook his head.  “No, no.  You did fine.”

            “So whaddya gonna tell the three heads?”

            “Nothing yet” he mumbled.  “First, I’ll give it a go myself.”  Sanzo sighed.  He couldn’t believe he was about to fucking do this.  Those bastard aspects had better never ask him for a big favor ever again.

*          *          *

            It might’ve been a few weeks after the kid came through, or maybe just a few days.  It’s hard to keep track of the timing of shit when each ordinary day blends into the next.  It couldn’t have been that long, though, since the other regulars were still razzing Runchuan over having struck out and gotten his ass whipped by a scrawny moppet.

            In a city this size, strangers are wandering in and out all the time.  Most of them never come back – their visit inspired by either curiosity or misinformation, but those who do return are loyal enough to help me keep a roof over my head.  So, like I said, strangers were commonplace, and there wasn’t much point in paying attention until the second visit.  But once in a while a new guy shows up that catches my notice – usually because he’s deformed or maudlinly talkative, or has fastidious drink preferences that he hassles me about.  But the particular stranger that walked in on the night I’m referring to was a different case entirely.

            First of all, I can’t remember ever seeing anyone who could simultaneously be so attractive and so off-putting.  To put it bluntly, he was hot – thick blond hair and penetrating violet eyes you could get blissfully lost in for days if they didn’t hold an odd quality that made it seem like they were blazing out sweeping beams of amplified contempt.  He had this perpetually sour expression on his face, like the smell of the joint was playing havoc with his gastrointestinal system, and his muscles were tensed as if he were ready to deck somebody at the slightest provocation.  My first impression was that he was one of those bigoted motherfuckers who showed up just to stir shit.  We got those sometimes, but they rarely had the guts to come alone.  Besides, there was no arguing with this guy’s outfit.  He knew exactly where the hell he was, and he had come with a purpose.

            I gotta talk about this outfit for a second because… well, damn.  His pants were skin-tight leather, showing off the kind of ass you can only get by climbing a lot of stairs on a daily basis.  On top, he wore a highly starched white button-down, open most of the way to reveal a hot little mesh number underneath.   He was the picture of an outwardly stodgy but secretly kinky businessman on his night off in a place where he knew for a fact he wouldn’t bump into any of his associates.  I knew immediately that despite his lemon-sucking expression, he was going to get a lot of attention.

            But that was none of my business.  I mentally chalked him up as a potential repeat patron and fixed a round of flaming shots for a rather morose bachelor party at table six.  Those damned arranged marriages played hell with my clientele, but the victims usually started showing up again after a few months of “good behavior.”

            I didn’t think about the stranger again until a bottle was slammed down on the bar and those gorgeous eyes were boring into me.

            “Your waiter assured me that this was your best wine.  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

            Startled at such surliness so early in the evening, I had to blink a few times before checking out the label.  It was a reputable brand, but a bad year, and I recalled that there had been a few batches that were especially poor.  I sniffed at the bottle experimentally and winced.

            “Tastes like ox piss,” the stranger snarled, and based on the aroma, I couldn’t contradict him.

            “Please accept my apologies, sir,” I offered placatingly, stowing the bottle away for those with less discerning tastes.  In place of it, I drew out a dusty bottle from the deep reaches of the lower bar.  “Let me offer you this Special Reserve instead.  It’s usually twice as much as the bottle you had, but I’ll give you the same price because of the mix-up.”  It never hurt to butter up the guys with expensive habits.

            The stranger looked skeptically at the new offering and took a hesitant sip.  His eyes widened, pleasantly surprised, delighted even, but he only said, “This’ll do.”

            I nodded the understanding nod finely honed by bartenders everywhere, and he fell to silently drinking.  Business was a little slow that night, and I began to worry that no one suitable would come around to convince him that a return visit would be worth the effort.  If his pockets were as deep as that bottle of wine suggested, he wasn’t a customer I wanted to lose.

            “Name’s Ming Chi.  Hu Ming Chi.  You can call me Ming,” I offered amiably.

            “Genjo.  Uh…”  He hesitated at the name – not an uncommon reserve at this place – and I swiftly eased his uncertainty.

            “We don’t use family names here.  Makes things easier.  Less pressure.  I’m the exception, since my name’s on the sign.”

            “I see.  Genjo, then.”

            I smiled and shook his hand.  He was still tenser than a bowstring, but either the wine or the anonymity or a combination of both had loosened him up a tad.

            “So what kinda work you in?” I asked, watching his response closely to gauge whether small talk was welcome or reviled.  From his demeanor, I’d assumed he’d just want me to shut up and go away, so I was surprised at his response – in no way effusive or enthusiastic, but a long cry from the irritated grunt I had anticipated.

            “I deal in antiquities.  Statues, scrolls, that kind of thing.  I’m here in town to see if I can make a few acquisitions.  If I can get a line on a new source, I should be back often.”

            The code in his statement was trivial for an experienced bartender to decipher.  If I hooked him up with a reliable source, he’d be coming back to line my pockets with the 300% markup on that pricey reserve.  I glanced around the bar, despairing at the lack of promising candidates, but at that moment Yao strode in through the doors.  He was perfect: another antique dealer, young, attractive, and compulsively single.  Exactly the man to satisfy the fastidious stranger’s personal and professional ambitions.  I beckoned him subtly over.  Even with the overt coding of Genjo’s request, one had to handle these matters discreetly.

            Yao recognized the cue and sidled up to the bar, ordering his usual.  His flushed cheeks revealed that he’d already been drinking elsewhere before coming to my joint to close out the night.  He eyed Genjo with a gleam of untapped promised.

            “Haven’t seen you around here before,” he began, settling on the stool as I served up his vodka gimlet.  “So what’s your story?”

            “Antiquities dealer,” the stranger replied snappishly, clearly unaware of the favor I’d just rendered him.  “I’m looking for a reliable source.”

            “Interesting as that is,” Yao murmured, reaching out to give the guy’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze.  “That’s not the story I was looking for.  C’mon, what are you into?”

            Yao was rich enough and handsome enough that this tried and tested move generally resulted in the clank of a belt buckle against the men’s room tiles in a matter of moments, but Genjo wasn’t having it, and he swatted Yao’s hand away irritably.  “I’ll tell you what I’m not into: nosy bastards who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

            Yao shot me a derisive look and stood.  Unaccustomed to rejection, he did not handle it well.  “That’s good to know,” he said haughtily, “because I’m not into lying fucks who pretend to be professionals when they don’t know shit.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?”  Genjo muttered, oblivious to his massive tactical error.

            Yao “humph”ed.  “There’s an antiquities convention in town this week, which you would already know if you were any way legit.  By tomorrow, I’ll see that not one of the other dealers will do business with your pasty ass.  Either you’re an amateur or a con man, and neither breed lasts long in my line of work.”  He slammed his hands against the bar, trapping Genjo between them.  “If you want an apprenticeship, give me a call, but be prepared to work hard.”  He raised his eyebrows licentiously.  “Very hard.”

            The way the stranger’s face contorted with rage, I was worried I’d have to call the bouncers in to break up a fight, but he held his ground, and Yao soon turned away, clapping his hands to draw the attention of the entire bar.

            “Hey boys!” he announced.  “For your information, this guy has the smallest prick I’ve ever seen.  Steer clear if you know what’s good for you.”

            Turning back to Genjo, he silenced his expression of outrage with a sly smile.  “I think it’s a fair bet you’ll be going home alone tonight.  How d’ya like them apples, doll face?”  And at that, he meandered off to chat up the groom-to-be at table six.

            Genjo sighed and turned back to his bottle, unwilling to make eye contact with me.  For the rest of the night, he made a few attempts to strike up conversations, but no one would talk to him except a couple of downtrodden, middle-aged late bloomers, so desperate they’d fuck a baby carrot strapped to a couple of chickpeas.  The stranger struck out, I lost a high-paying customer, and Yao, that dick, went home with the blushing groom.

            *          *          *

            “Whoa.  It can’t be.”

            Gojyo and Hakkai had taken a spontaneous road trip to the largest city in the region, about two hours south of the village where they lived.  It was thronging with people, shops, good restaurants, and even a museum or two – which they visited on Hakkai’s insistence.  It had been a refreshing change from the claustrophobic atmosphere of their tiny apartment, and after a long day of sightseeing and a deeply satisfying meal, they went out for a late-night stroll.  They were just about to call it a day and hit the long road home, when Gojyo’s exclamation halted their progress.

            Hakkai made an interrogative noise and looked up, following Gojyo’s line of sight.  “It’s Sanzo!  What is he doing here?”  He waved brightly.  “Hey San-…”

            “Shut up, you idiot,” Gojyo hissed, muffling Hakkai’s mouth and pulling them both into an adjacent alley.

            “What’s the problem?” demanded Hakkai crossly once his mouth had been liberated.  “I can’t say ‘hi’?”

            “Not right now, you can’t.  Do you know what that place is?!”

            Hakkai squinted myopically around the corner.  “The sign says ‘Hu’s up?’”

            “Exactly.  It’s the most notorious gay bar in the city.”

            “Oh?  Ever been there?”

            “Funny, asswipe.”

            “I still don’t see the issue.”

            “It’s because Sanzo just came out of a gay bar.  Dressed like rough trade, I might add.”

            “So?”

            “So, I’ve always suspected… you know…”

            “That he wasn’t following celibacy guidelines?”

            Gojyo pursed his lips and glared at Hakkai, who bore an expression of inquisitive innocence.  It was at times like this that Gojyo just couldn’t tell whether Hakkai was fucking with him.  “You’re hopeless.  You do know that, right?”

            “So Sanzo was trolling for sex at a gay bar.  Is that any creepier than him trolling for sex at a straight bar?”

            Gojyo was about to respond adamantly when the question actually registered.  “No, you’re right,” he conceded.  “They’re both fuckin’ creepy.”

            “Well there you go.”

            Narrowing his eyes to consider his roommate, Gojyo said, “You’re pretty tolerant, aren’t you?”

            Hakkai smiled beatifically.  “I live with you, Gojyo.  Just how more tolerant could I be?”

            “Touché,” Gojyo laughed, cuffing him on the shoulder.  “Should we head back?”

            “Let’s.  I’ll be ready for dessert by the time we get home.”

            “I’m right behind you, buddy.”

            They emerged onto the street, their progress only slightly impeded by a drunken couple who emerged from Hu’s Up?, clinging to each other for stability.

            “My place is just a few blocks away,” said the younger, significantly drunker of the two.

            “I’m right behind you, buddy,” replied the better looking one, punctuating his statement with a sharp smack on the ass that made them both dissolve into laughter.

            Gojyo frowned uncomfortably as he and Hakkai slipped past the pair, disconcerted by the parallel verbiage.  If Hakkai had noticed, he didn’t show it, and soon the deliberate distance Gojyo had placed between them ebbed away.  After the long drive home, they ate peach cobbler, made fresh that morning.  Peach fucking cobbler.  And it was divine.  If Hakkai were a woman, Gojyo thought, I’d marry him on the spot.

            *          *          *

            Sanzo was in a foul mood when Gojyo and Hakkai arrived unexpectedly the next morning, bearing twin shit-eating grins.  He was pissed because he’d been trying to decide which was worse: roping one of those two into the investigation, or admitting to the three aspects that he had failed.  He still wasn’t sure, but their impromptu arrival had forced him to a point of decision.

            “Have a nice evening last night?” Gojyo asked too casually.  “Bet it gets lonely in this big temple, surrounded by nothing but bald celibates and an adolescent monkey for companionship.”

            “What are you driving at?” Sanzo demanded.  After last night’s spectacular failure, in which he had managed to simultaneously alienate both the gay and antiquities communities, he was in no mood for Gojyo’s shit.

            “We saw you coming out of Hu’s Up?” Hakkai explained with infuriating directness.  “And now Gojyo’s curiosity is piqued.”

            “Don’t put it like that, asshole,” Gojyo retorted, “you make it sound like I…”  Then he remembered he had ammo, and turned to taunt Sanzo.  “So what’s the deal?  Did your hand finally get tired from all that meditation?”

            Sanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to go for his gun.  “It’s nothing, okay?  I was on a case.  Some thieves have been raiding temples for artifacts, and the Sanbutsushin traced one of the culprits to that particular bar.”

            “That’s the oldest excuse in the book,” Gojyo chortled, “and it won’t explain the naked wrestling woodcuts I’m sure you’ve got stashed somewhere around here.”

            “Do you want to die?”

            Hakkai interrupted before tensions could escalate.  “Did you have any success?”

            “No,” Sanzo admitted after a pause.  “Goku and I have both tried, and neither of us could learn anything.”

            Gojyo snorted.  “Lemme guess.  No one would talk to the monkey, and that pretty face of yours won a few too many admirers.”

            Sanzo paused before answering.  “Something like that, yes.  I’d rather not go into the details.”

            There was an awkward silence until Hakkai leaned in to whisper something to Gojyo that made him burst out in hysterical laughter, which Hakkai tried diplomatically to hush.  Why did that guy have to be so fucking perceptive?

            For all his rancor, Sanzo felt a twinge of vengeful triumph as he said, “I guess it’s on you now.”

            Gojyo’s laughter vanished instantly.  “You want one of us to go into that place?  No way, forget it.”

            “What’s the matter?  Afraid you might enjoy yourself?” Sanzo smiled complacently.  After those two forced his hand by showing up without warning, it served them right that one of them would be next on the chopping block.

            Gojyo didn’t dignify Sanzo’s taunt with a response, which meant he couldn’t come up with anything witty enough, but Hakkai, too, shook his head.

            “I don’t feel comfortable with this, Sanzo.  It’s too deceptive.  There are implications to going into a bar like that and making friends.  Guiltless people could get hurt.”

            “You think you’re that good a catch, do you?” responded Sanzo snidely.

            “Hey!” Gojyo shot back in defense of his friend.  “Have you tried this guy’s cooking?”

            Sanzo shrugged.  He didn’t fucking care, as long as those artifacts got back to where they belonged.  “Fine, then you go.”

            Gojyo exhaled sharply and shook his head.  “No way.”

            “I’m sorry, Sanzo,” said Hakkai with a frown of genuine apology, “but it seems that neither of us is interested in this task.”

            Sanzo peered at their determined faces and dug deep for a hidden trump card.  “Very well, but I think you should know that this will be the last job I ever offer you.  It’ll be quite a blow to your income.”

            “Better that than a blow to something else,” Gojyo scoffed.

            But Hakkai was more thoughtful; thoughtful and resentful.  Sanzo wasn’t sure which was worse.  “You really mean it, don’t you?”

            “Of course.”

            “Fuck him,” said Gojyo, rising.  “It just means that he’ll have to take care of all the bullshit jobs he gives us all by himself.  Serves him right for being an asshole.”

            “Yes,” reasoned Hakkai, “but we need the money more than he needs our help.”

            “There’s always gambling,” Gojyo suggested.

            “But you’ve been on a losing streak recently, and you barely earned enough to take care of yourself before I came along.  There aren’t many tutoring jobs in town, so I can’t…”

            “Principles or a roof over your head,” Sanzo paraphrased.  “Pick one.”

            “You fucking jackass,” yelled Gojyo, lunging forward with hands poised for throttling.  But before he could strike, Hakkai halted him with a gentle clearing of his throat.

            “I suggest a compromise.”

            Two pairs of eyebrows lifted, wary and intrigued.

            “You know that the perpetrators are patrons of that bar, yes?”

            “That’s what I said.  So?”

            “Well, what if we both went in undercover?”

            Gojyo scowled.  “How is that any better?”

            “We go in together.”  Hakkai raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

            “That’s still no different…”  Suddenly Gojyo’s eyes widened.  “Wait, you mean together together?”

            With an artless shrug, Hakkai responded, “Why not?”

            Sanzo grinned inwardly at the suggestion.  It was perfect.  He was only sorry he hadn’t thought of it himself.  “That could work.  You guys infiltrate as a couple.  Hakkai doesn’t break any hearts, and Gojyo doesn’t suffer any blows to his… ego.”

            Gojyo looked uncomfortable, but reluctantly sat down, chewing his lip.  “I don’t know, Hakkai.”

            “How bad could it be?  We go in, we make some friends – purely platonic, of course – and we get a line on the burglaries.”  His good eye glinted with gimlet sharpness.  “Besides, we can’t do worse than Sanzo and Goku’s solo attempts.”

            Sanzo bristled, but he was willing to put up with a knock or two if it meant they took care of his little problem for him.

            Gojyo considered Hakkai’s argument, his reluctance visibly at odds with his desire to show Sanzo up.  “I won’t have to make out with you, will I?  Because if a chick saw me, I’d…”

            “The thing about gay bars,” Hakkai pointed out,” is that they are notoriously devoid of ‘chicks.’  Well, except for the other kind of gay bar, and I don’t think we’d fit in there.”

            “Well we won’t fit in at this one either.”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” said Sanzo.  The way you two are sniping at each other, it’s like you’ve been fucking for years, and one of you is dissatisfied.  Hakkai, do you sometimes wish that Gojyo were more generous?”

            Hakkai laughed at this, but Gojyo growled, “I sometimes wish that you were more generous.  This is blackmail, making us do this.”

            “So you’re on board then?”  Both Sanzo and Hakkai looked up at Gojyo expectantly.

            Gojyo winced, finally saying, “Okay, then, but only if Hakkai whips up another batch of cobbler.  On the monk’s dime.”

            “It’s a deal,” laughed Hakkai.

            Sanzo said, “Whatever.  Enjoy your honeymoon.  I'll send along the details in a few hours.”

            With a petulant flip of his hair, Gojyo stalked out of the room, closely followed by his newly-acquired fake lover.

            *          *          *

           They seemed like a nice couple, these new guys that showed up one night, even if they were an odd match.  One boasted a kind expression and an attractive face, seeming wholly comfortable with himself, while the other appeared on edge, with the slightly awkward bearing of a man who’d spent too long in denial, putting forth a tough guy exterior to mask his secret desires.  But despite their antithetical attitudes, it was clear that their affection for each other was genuine.  And bartenders can tell this sort of thing.

            When they first started coming to the bar, they kept mostly to themselves, just talking and laughing and drinking at an out-of-the-way table.  They had an easy rapport, like they lived in a universe all their own, and I knew it was love when several nights went by without one hassling the other about his smoking habit.  On their first night the redhead had gotten so drunk that his partner had to carry him bodily out of the bar.  The guy with the glasses was pretty strong for someone who looked and acted so meek. 

The overindulgence didn’t surprise me – it was typical rookie behavior.  Tough as he came across, that redhead still wasn’t comfortable with himself.  I might’ve thought he’d left a wife and kid somewhere and was wracked with guilt over having abandoned them, but his boyfriend didn’t seem like the home-wrecking type.  He was the sort of guy that had probably never taken a step out of line in his life.

            On their second night, Red was a little less freaked out, so I figured he’d been cured of his reluctance by a steamy night behind closed doors.  As a couple, they weren’t very demonstrative, but there was a palpable tension between them that made me wonder just how long they’d been together.  If it was more than half a year, I decided, I’d eat the cash register, either that or give up its contents to know their secret.  It’s not easy keeping up that kind of intense want once you settle down.

            None of the other patrons took their aloofness as snobbery.  They were just a couple of guys who wanted a place where they could feel comfortable, and there was something charming in that.  All that mattered to me was that I had two new regulars who could really hold their liquor.

            *          *          *

            “Hakkai, don’t you think this is weird?”

            Gojyo was lying on the bed, head pillowed against his hands.  They had taken a room at an inn – a single for purposes of verisimilitude – for the duration of the investigation.  It was a cozy enough space, and near enough to the bar that their cohabitation wouldn’t raise any eyebrows from the staff.

            From the desk where he was laboriously composing a progress report for Sanzo, Hakkai tilted his head.  “How so?”

            Rolling his eyes at such a stupid question, Gojyo elaborated.  “For one thing, we’ve spent every night this week at a gay bar, and it’s been kinda nice, you know?”

            “Well, keep in mind we’ve just been doing the bar part, not the gay part.  I wouldn’t go reassessing your sexual identity yet.”

            Gojyo snorted.  “That’s not what I mean.  I mean, it’s been fun… just hanging out with you.  Whenever we hit the tavern at home, chicks always come and interrupt us; if we don’t feel like talking to them, people whisper.  They’re thinking the same thing here, of course, but it’s different, you know?  It’s ironic, but I feel like I can just be myself.”

            With a rare, simple smile, devoid of all the complexities and hidden meanings that usually infused his expression, Hakkai turned in his chair and nodded.  “I feel the same.”

            Despite this positive affirmation, Gojyo was hesitant.  Was this a hug moment or what?  He hadn’t exactly had a ton of male friends he could open up to like he did with Hakkai, and he had no fucking idea how he was supposed to behave.  He hoisted himself off the bed and went for a manly punch on the shoulder, just to be safe.

            “Still,” added Hakkai, showing a disappointing lack of appreciation for this boldly affectionate gesture, “if things continue the way they have been, I think we might be in trouble.”

            “Why?” demanded Gojyo defensively.  “It’s not like these fake dates we’ve been going on have made me want to jump you or anything.”

            “I’m talking about the case,” said Hakkai pointedly, and Gojyo caught what looked like a glimmer of coldness in his gaze.  “Sanzo won’t pick up our bar tabs forever.  I think we’ve adequately established ourselves within the community.  It’s time to start moving forward.”

            “Right,” Gojyo said, feeling somehow like he’d said something stupid, but not quite sure of what it was.  “The monk and the monkey made the same damn mistake – they went out of the gates to early.  But we’ve got cred.  Homo cred.  Go us.”

            “And at this point I think we can justify starting to make contact.  Based on our observations, I think I have a handle on the personalities of most of the regulars.  If the Sanbutsushin’s information is accurate, it must be one of them.”

“So tomorrow we make some friends,” declared Gojyo, feeling strangely appreciative of that purposeful glint in Hakkai’s expression.  “Tomorrow, we get in line to nail those thieving bastards.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” Hakkai pointed out with a grin that made Gojyo blush. 

            “Right.  Metaphorically.”

*          *          *

            Gojyo and Hakkai had an early lunch the next day and set off for the city’s booming antique district.  They had visited more than a dozen shops in half as many days, both as part of their investigation and to establish themselves as legitimate clients in the trade.  It became immediately obvious that this was an ideal location for ambitious thieves to sell off their ill-gotten wares: there were more dealers within a span of a few blocks than in the rest of the province put together.  With the wide range in prices and merchandise, it was the ideal starting point for novice and veteran collectors alike; in fact, the district had grown so famous that it was now an integral part of the tourism industry.

            Most of their visits had been pleasant, if uninformative, but the prominently situated corner shop on their agenda for that day promised to be more fruitful.  They entered the store, its interior shockingly dark after the bright noonday sun, to the tintinnabulation of a small brass bell.  All around them, shelves were piled high with bric-a-brac, valuable ancient vases standing side by side with kitschy souvenirs from decades past.  At the sound of the bell, a curtain at the back was pushed aside, revealing a tall, good-looking man in his late twenties.  This was Yao, the key instrument in foiling Sanzo’s investigation, and therefore the monk’s primary suspect.  Sanzo had an ego that way.

            “Damn,” muttered Gojyo as he caught sight of that strong jaw, styled black hair, and glimmering teeth.  Yao was a long way from the effeminate cliché one so often saw in the popular media.  He was muscular without being bulky, even taller than Gojyo, and he carried himself with a confident ease, as if he were the only person in the world without any issues.  “That’s the guy?  If Sanzo turned him down, he must be straight after all.”

            “Hush,” Hakkai warned through a close-lipped smile.  Slipping seamlessly into his role, he glanced at the nearby merchandise as the proprietor approached, hand outstretched.

            “Welcome to Yao’s Antiques – widest selection in the district.  Now what brings you to…”  Yao frowned as he recognized their faces, struggling to place why they seemed so familiar.  “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

            “I doubt it,” replied Hakkai amiably, despite the fact that he and Gojyo had been surreptitiously watching this man for nearly a week now.  “We’re new to the area, so unless you’ve spent time in the South, I don’t think we could have met.”

            Yao rubbed his chin.  “Still… I’m sure I’ve seen….”  His eyes drifted to Gojyo’s blaze of hair, and he snapped his fingers in delight.  “Of course!  How could I forget hair like that?”  He leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.  “Lemme just close the shop for a second, and we can talk without being disturbed.”  He slipped past them and flipped the sign on the door as he secured the bolt.  As he turned to face them, his triumphant expression was sanctified by a corona of sunlight streaming in through the blinds, igniting sparks of iridescent red in his black hair. 

            “You’re the new couple at Hu’s” he declared.  “Sorry I didn’t realize it sooner – I try to keep my private life compartmentalized from my professional life, so sometimes it takes me a while to catch on when the two intersect.”

            Hakkai uttered a convincingly self-conscious “Oh!” of surprise, while Gojyo folded his arms defiantly.  “So what if we are?  You got a problem with that?”

            Yao chuckled easily, unfazed by Gojyo’s feigned pique.  “Of course I don’t.  I was there too, neh?  I’ve seen you guys there the past week or so.”

            “That so?” mumbled Gojyo, standing down.  “Well that’s okay then.”  He hoped the reaction was realistic.  Enough people put homosexuality on the same level as human-demon relationships that he had some pretty good source material to draw on from personal experience.

            “Please forgive my partner’s defensiveness,” Hakkai offered.  “It’s just that not everyone reacts well to…”

            “To the fact that the term ‘partner’ has nothing to do with business?”  Yao raised a sly, knowing eyebrow that contained a hint of something else.  He had an appraising air about him that Gojyo didn’t quite like, and it was aimed directly at Hakkai.

            “Actually, in this case it does,” Hakkai corrected.  “We’re business partners as well, which is why we’re here.”

            Yao’s air visibly shifted as he reassessed his approach.  Individuals there on business would doubtlessly prove a lot more profitable than simple tourists.  His salesman’s charm redoubled.

“Business, eh?” he purred, slipping between them as he moved away from the door, managing to brush against both of them as he passed.  He kept his gaze fixed on Hakkai, showing a subtle combination of polite civility and predatory desire.  For a moment, civility was eclipsed as he ran an evaluative gaze down Hakkai’s form, a phantom hand slithering over every curve of muscle and bone.  Gojyo stiffened in affront.  He could read that look like a magnum opus.  The guy was imagining Hakkai naked, speculating about his proclivities and talents, calculating the odds that Gojyo might be willing to share.  Oh, Gojyo knew that look, all right.  He’d fucking invented that look, and used it countless times on the women in their village, often in the presence of their boyfriends or husbands, and he was none to pleased about being on the disregarded end of the transaction.  Hell, he was only a fake boyfriend, and that look made him want to punch the guy’s face in.

            “So, what kind of business are you in?” Yao asked, touching Hakkai’s shoulder in a way that, for the sake of professionalism, fell just short of flirtation.  Still, this modicum of restraint got no credit points from Gojyo, who was starting to get pissed off.  That jackass should know better than to pull that shit when he was standing right there.

            Automatically, he growled out, “We’re in the business of fucking each other.  Exclusively.”

            “Gojyo!” gasped Hakkai, never one for the appreciation of crass truth-telling, or in this case lie-telling in the guise of crass truth-telling.

            But Yao just laughed, no doubt an old pro at handling jealous lovers.  “An admirable profession,” he said, “but I’m afraid it sounds more lubricative than lucrative.”

            Damn.  This guy was so smooth he was frictionless.

            Hakkai cleared his throat in that resentfully patient way he used when he was trying to bring a conversation back on track.  Gojyo braced himself for Hakkai’s answer to Yao’s inquiry.  After a week of feeding the same story to dealers all over the district, this was the one part that still made him cringe.  “We’re interior decorators.”

            With effort, Gojyo managed to keep from hanging his head in embarrassment.  When they were formulating their plan, Hakkai had pointed out that there were a limited number of professions through which they could credibly seek out religious artifacts, but why had he insisted on picking something so damned cliché?  For some reason, Gojyo found pretending that he spent his nights taking it up the ass a whole lot less distasteful than telling complete strangers that he spent his days picking out chintz.

            To his credit, Yao was a lot more diplomatic in response to this admission than some of the other storeowners had been.  “So this is a professional visit.”

            “Of course,” said Hakkai, as you would if you had no idea who this jerk was before he admitted to scoping you out at a bar.  “Our current client has very particular taste in décor, and we came here to see if we could find some antiques that might suit him.”

            “Oh?” Yao gestured at the surrounding shelves with an impish smile.  “Is there a particular piece that you had in mind?”  The word emphasis told Gojyo exactly what piece Yao had in mind, and it was qualified by the words “of” and “Hakkai’s ass.”

            “These are far too new,” replied Hakkai dismissively.  “We’re looking for statuettes, specifically from the Tang or Sui dynasties.”

            “My goodness, your client must be wealthy.”

            “Hi is,” said Gojyo,” and we get a 10% finder’s fee, so naturally we’re eager to give him what he wants.  So whaddya say?  You got anything for us?”

            “Not at the moment, no,” said Yao apologetically.  His voice deepened with dark undertone as he continued, “And I must warn you to be wary of any dealers who do.  Don’t buy anything until you’ve had the provenance confirmed by an expert.”

            “Why’s that?” asked Hakkai, brow furrowed at the suddenly dour tone.

            “There’s hardly anything from that era available on the market these days, and there are a lot of questionable characters in this business.  Just a few weeks ago, a guy came in here offering to sell me pieces from just that time period.  As soon as I saw them, I knew they were stolen, so I sent him packing.  But other dealers are less discerning.  If you buy a stolen artifact, it could get you into a lot of trouble if the authorities catch wind.  I’m warning you as – I hope – a new friend.  Please, just be careful.”

            Hakkai nodded, processing the information with a look of concern.  “This man – what did he look like?  We want to be sure to steer clear of him.”

            “I dunno,” Yao shrugged.  “Nondescript, really.  He was a kid in his teens – average height,average build.  Nothing notable.  But with that kind of cache, he’s got to have partners.  And I think I met one of them the other night.  He’s probably still skulking around these parts, so watch out.”

            “Another thief, eh?” Gojyo prompted, hoping this suspect would prove more promising, or at least more readily identifiable.

            “Yeah.  He’s a real pretty boy, with blond hair, purple eyes, and a shitty attitude. Quite the cocktease, too – he fed the bartender at Hu’s some bullshit story about being an antiquities dealer, but I saw through it right away.  Plus, he was spending money in that joint like had Buddha’s fucking credit card.  There’s no doubt that he’s trouble, and I suspect he made up the antiquities line so he could fence some stolen goods.”

            “We’ll make every effort to avoid him,” said Gojyo earnestly.

            Hakkai sighed at this dead end, expertly passing it off as the sigh of a man who had just witnessed a lofty commission go up in smoke.  “Can you think of anyone who might have legitimate pieces we could buy?”

            Yao tapped his lip and shrugged.  His flirtatious manner had vanished under the weight of his righteousness, but now it was beginning to creep back.  “Not off the top of my head, but if you’re going to be at the bar tonight, I can introduce you to a few other dealers.  Maybe they can help you out.”

            “Well, thank you for the information.  We appreciate your…”

            “Whoa!”

            The exclamation had come from the curtained threshold, where a teenager was staggering beneath a pile of boxes.  “It’s those hotties from Hu’s!” he exclaimed.  “Yao, how did you get them here?”

            “They’re here on business,” Yao explained with some impatience.  “They’re interior decorators in search of pieces for a client."

            “Interior… ha!  Based on the contrasting styles of those outfits, I’d guess most of your collaborations are best described by the phrase ‘hot mess’.”

            Gojyo winced.  There it was.  That was the reaction they usually got.

            “That’s enough, Ken,” snapped Yao.

            “Ah, we prefer the term ‘complementary’,” said Hakkai with the easy laugh of a creative genius whose art was rarely understood by the general public.  “We specialize in paradoxical design schemes.  For instance, these ancient statues we’re looking for will be juxtaposed with high resolution video screens.”

            “Whatever you say,” said the kid.  “Still sounds like a hot mess to me.”

            “I do apologize,” offered Yao, directing an angry glare at his subordinate.  “Ken’s been my apprentice for two years now, and he still hasn’t mastered some of the finer points of retail.”

            “Forget about it,” muttered Gojyo, eyes darting from Yao to Ken as he shifted uncomfortably at the latter’s openly mooning gaze.  “We just give the clients what they want.  If they’re willing to shell out for ‘hot mess nouveau’, we’re happy to take their cash.”

            “Well thanks again,” Hakkai said abruptly, pulling Gojyo toward the door.  Apparently, he didn’t like it when his fake boyfriend belittled their fake professional sensibilities.

            “Will we see you at Hu’s tonight?” asked Ken with pitiful eagerness, licking his lips unconsciously as he scrutinized Gojyo’s scars.

            “Um… yeah.  Sure.  We’ll probably show up.”

            “Wonderful,” said Yao, unsubtly kicking his apprentice before he could skip with childish glee.  His intoxicating smile blazed for Hakkai’s benefit alone.  “Then the first round is on me.”

            *          *          *

            As they emerged into the sunlight, where the dust from the road glittered in bright corpuscles, Gojyo lit a cigarette and laughed openly.  “Ha.  I can’t wait to tell that bastard monk he got mistaken for a fence.”

            “It’s not worth it,” sighed Hakkai.  “That would just make him surlier.”

            “I guess you’re right.  Besides, we promised your new boyfriend we’d steer clear of him.”

            Hakkai arched a dubious eyebrow.  “New boyfriend, huh?  Don’t you think you overdid the jealousy act back there?  That comment was out of line.”

            Gojyo was about to retort that it was not entirely an act, but thought better of it.  “No self-respecting partner would allow his man to be ogled that way.”

            “It’s just a business stratagem.  Haven’t you ever used your sexuality on someone you have no interest in to get what you want?”

            “Why?  Have you?”

            “Of course not.  But I’m not like you and Yao.”

            “Don’t compare me to that putz.  Besides, if we were lovers, wouldn’t you want me to stand up for your honor?  I may only be your fake boyfriend, but…”

            “Okay, I admit it; your macho posturing and fake jealousy has made me fake tingly.  I may swoon.”

            Gojyo laughed and clapped an arm over Hakkai’s shoulder, chortling, “So we’re the ‘hotties from Hu’s’   Has a nice ring to it.”

            “Oh, don’t act so surprised.  I’ve been watching that kid.  He’s been slavering over you since the first night we showed up there.”

            “Heh.  Little does he know you’re the possessive type.”

            “I am at that.  But you should be grateful.  My presence is probably the only thing preventing him from throwing himself at you.”

            “Maybe, but my presence isn’t doing much to defray Captain Smarm back there from undressing you with his eyes.”

            “As long as it’s just his eyes, he’s welcome to do as he likes.  Besides, I think he knows you could take him.”

            They rounded a corner, receiving critical looks from a few passers-by, which only made Gojyo cradle Hakkai’s shoulder more firmly in defiance.  “Good thing we have each other,” he said with an offhand laugh. 

“Yes,” said Hakkai, looking up at him with an affectionate smile.  “It’s a very good thing.”

            *          *          *

            A week after their initial appearance, the new couple showed up early and sat down at their usual table, but when Yao showed up, he bought them a round and waved them up to the bar.  To everyone’s astonishment, they complied – apparently Yao had met them somewhere and now had the inside track on the new meat everyone was talking about.  That little punk Ken was completely smitten by the redhead, while Yao himself clearly had his eye on the brunette.  He always went for the meek-looking guys, based on the theory that the milder the exterior, the hotter and more uninhibited the sex.  My own empirical data on this hypothesis showed mixed results – sometimes the shy ones were just shy - but Yao believed in it wholeheartedly.  And if anyone could lure that fair-faced bookworm away from his hot-tempered lover, it was Yao.

            The redhead was on to him, though, and over the night, his arm crept to rest possessively over the brunette’s shoulders.  Soon they were surrounded by Yao’s posse of antiquadors, a mixed bag of guys who all owned establishments in the District.  I mostly tuned out when they started talking shop, but from what I overheard, they’d all been approached by some punk trying to pawn off stolen artifacts at a discount.  They’d all refused him, of course – these guys were pros - but while each of them had theories as to which of their fellow retailers might have fallen for the scam, none of them had any definitive knowledge.  The couple seemed interested in these incidents, but I couldn’t tell whether they were looking for a lead on hot merchandise or trying to avoid it.  It was none of my business either way.

            Gradually, the antique talk fell away, and attention turned to the couple.  Yao’s group started asking some of the burning questions that had been dogging the clientele for a week.

            “How long have you been together?” Ken asked hopefully, no doubt secretly praying that they were either new enough to be easily separated or established enough to be in an exploration-amenable rut.

            “About a year,” said the one with the glasses, whose name I learned was Hakkai.  “Feels like a lot longer though.”

            “Watch it, smart ass,” countered the tall redhead, Gojyo.  “Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?”

            “I’ll let you figure it out.”  Hakkai hid his flirtatiously teasing smile behind his drink, but just the glimpse of it made me simultaneously happy and sad.  What those guys had was so easy, so natural.  A beautiful thing that made me despair for all the transient affairs and external biases that plagued most of my customers.  Most of them would kill to get what came to these two so easily, which was probably why my guys were so curious.

            “So, how did you meet?” asked Shen, one of my oldest customers, and the perennial voice of reason among the antique crowd.

            They exchanged a look that surpassed verbal interchange, and Gojyo said, “I found him near death, lying in the road with his guts hanging out.  Took him home and patched him up.”

            “Who wouldn’t?” exclaimed an adamant voice from the back.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” gasped Enlai, a notorious drama queen.

            “Let’s just say there was an incident,” Hakkai said carefully.  “I’d rather not get into it.”

            “Gay-bashers, I bet,” came the deep voice of Kyo, a bear of a man and a bear of a, well, bear.  “I hate those sorry fucks.”

            “Hey, he said he didn’t want to talk about it!” Gojyo shot back.  There was no anger in his tone, but its protectiveness stirred a pang of sentiment in my old, jaded heart.

            “Yes, yes.  Please, a little consideration boys.”  The silky, imploring voice came from Yao, who stroked Hakkai’s arm consolingly.  Gojyo’s grip on his partner tightened, as well it fucking should have.

            Begrudgingly joining the conversation, Ken asked, “What happened then?”

            Gojyo snorted and gestured at Hakkai’s hale form.  “He got better, obviously.  A month of recovery, and he’s been with me ever since.”  They smiled at each other, and it would have been sickening in its sweetness if it hadn’t been so damned poignant.  Gojyo tugged Hakkai close, urging his head onto his shoulder.  Hakkai issued a contented sigh at the memory.

            “You guys shacked up on the first date?  What are you, lesbians?”  This remark came from Min, an amiable bisexual and occasional client, depending on who he happened to be dating or his ever-shifting preferences.

            “I told you before – keep your disgusting straight fantasies off of our turf,” Enlai demanded, bristling with overwrought affront.

            “It’s not a straight fantasy, it’s a lesbian joke.”

            “Whatever,” countered Kyo.  “This joint ain’t called Hu’s Wet? ya know, so keep it outside.”

            “You’re both idiots, you know that?”

            “I think it’s time for us to call it a night,” Hakkai broke in, diverting the impending throw-down.

            A wave of disappointed sighs arose, and Gojyo looked strangely hesitant, which made Yao’s eyes sparkle with promise, because everyone knew that Hakkai’s statement was code for sex, and what kind of moron passes up sex?  The kind in danger of having his pretty, bespectacled lover stolen from him, that’s who.  Gallant rescue aside, the past was the past, and if Gojyo wasn’t holding up his end, so to speak, he was going to have to vie against some very aggressive competition.

            But Gojyo caught a clue in the end, and the pair of them meandered out of the bar, Hakkai’s head still nestled in his lover’s shoulder.

*          *          *

            To his surprise, Gojyo found that he hadn’t wanted to leave the bar that night, and he was trying to work out exactly why that was.  At first, he’d been uncomfortable as hell in that place, but over the last week, it had grown to feel natural.  There was an unfamiliar sense of camaraderie that pervaded the atmosphere - an artifact of a community relegated to the fringes of society, he supposed - and this feeling overcame even the amplified drama of a place where literally anyone in the room could potentially sleep with anyone else on a given night. Unlike at regular bars, there was little hatred beneath the rivalries, like a poker game between pals instead of strangers.

            His arm was still around Hakkai’s shoulders as they walked through the darkened streets, and he gave him a friendly jostle.  “Why’d you make us take off so early?”

            Rather awkwardly, Hakkai disentangled himself from Gojyo’s grasp and put some space between them.  Gojyo was about to fire off a quip about how the pair of them would be more than a match for any wandering gay-bashers, if that’s what Hakkai was worried about, until he remembered that – oh yeah – platonic roommates did not typically roam the streets wrapped all over each other.

            In response to Gojyo’s question, Hakkai shrugged.  “We did all we could for the evening.  The word is out, and the legit dealers will probably start asking around – this community seems to have a code about protecting their own.”

            “Yeah, but the thieves were traced back to that bar.  Doesn’t that mean they’ll be sheltered as well?”

            “Not against us.  Like Yao, these other men seem concerned that we should not be tricked into purchasing stolen goods.”

            “Yeah.  About that Yao guy…”

            “Don’t start, Gojyo.”

            “No, I mean, couldn’t he be pulling our legs?  Maybe he fed us that story to throw us off the track.”

            “And convinced a half-dozen of his colleagues to corroborate his story?”

            “The fence is real, no question.  I’m just saying that he could be on Yao’s payroll, you know?”

            “But if he’d tried to sell off hot merchandise to his friends, he would have no qualms about bilking a couple of strangers.  Warding us off would just lessen his profits.  Besides, I really didn’t sense any deception from him – did you?”

            Gojyo sighed and admitted, “No.  Not on that subject at any rate.”

            They walked on in silence, and in the cold night air, Gojyo kept having to resist putting his arm around Hakkai or drawing closer to him.  He’d thrown himself into the act so convincingly that he was finding it hard to step away.

            What was that feeling he’d had at the bar, as they were surrounded by friendly, open faces?  Even if he’d had to direct the occasional murderous glare at Yao and his grabby hands, he’d felt a sense of contentment, even a strange kind of pride.

            Pride.  That was the key.  For the first time in his life, someone had actually envied him, and it was a pleasant change from the norm.  He’d been resented in the past, sure – any time he’d ambled off into the sunrise with some guy’s money or his woman - but no one had ever actually envied him.  No one had ever wished to be living his life.  And those guys at the bar thought he had it made, he could see it in their eyes.  Their envy made him appreciate what a damn good thing he had in Hakkai, even if he didn’t have him in quite the way they thought.  And that was a very good feeling indeed.

            “You know, this has been surprisingly easy to pull off,” he said, glancing sideways to inspect Hakkai’s closed expression.  “I mean, we haven’t had to change much about our story - we still live together, we still work together, at least, sorta.  As long as no one starts grilling us about positions, we could keep this up forever.”

            “Personally, that’s not the kind of information I’d share regardless,” Hakkai replied distractedly.  He was thinking about something – the case, no doubt.  Here Gojyo was, making profound realizations about the nature of contentment, while Hakkai was fixated on petty criminals.  So which one of them was more fucked up?

            They reached the inn and went directly to their room.  Gojyo stripped down to his boxers, flinging his clothes into a corner, while Hakkai slowly undressed and folded his  garments neatly once he’d buttoned himself into a nightshirt.  They’d been sharing a bed for a week, and it hadn’t seemed weird because sometimes you had to do that.  But tonight that bed seemed strangely daunting.  Nevertheless, Gojyo slipped between the sheets, closing his eyes as he felt Hakkai’s weight lower on to the mattress.

            He turned his head against the pillow and saw that Hakkai was studying him intently.  “Look, man, I….” his voice faltered at the realization that he had no idea what he was going to say.

            Hakkai smiled and let the remark pass unfinished.  “Good night, Gojyo,” he said.  Then he rolled over, leaving Gojyo to stare at the back of his head.

            “Night,” Gojyo sighed, letting his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling.  His earlier statement hadn’t been a stretch.  He and Hakkai really did have all the elements of a perfect relationship.  Everything but the sex, that was.  All of Gojyo’s romantic relationships had been about pretty much nothing but the sex, and they had all ended before they’d even begun.  The closest thing he’d ever had to Hakkai was Banri, but that was an entirely different type of interchange.  Banri had hinted plenty of times that Gojyo could have him at a word, and he’d actually considered it once or twice during his rare dry spells.  But in the end, even Gojyo wasn’t that self-destructive.  Still, Banri was Banri and Hakkai was Hakkai, and while he hadn’t really considered shifting their relationship prior to this case, there were definitely possibilities in the latter if he would only give some indication of interest.

            Possibilities floating dreamily through his head, Gojyo closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

            *          *          *

           Gojyo awoke with a smile on his face.  He couldn’t remember what he had dreamed about, but he’d obviously enjoyed it.  He felt the warmth of another body enfolded in his arms, and squeezed it contentedly, nuzzling his nose into the head of hair that was pillowed on his shoulder.  He stopped, startled.  That was a familiar fucking scent, and it sure as hell wasn’t cheap perfume.  The flesh that he was so wantonly caressing was hard and muscular.  He opened his eyes, recognized Hakkai, and rolled hastily away in an embarrassed panic.  He couldn’t believe he had done that.  Sure he’d been unconscious at the time, but it was still an unacceptable liberty.  His only hope was that Hakkai had slept through the whole, sordid incident.  He sat up, clenching his fists in his hair in self-reproach.

            The soft sound of a throat being cleared made him turn around.  Hakkai was wide-awake and staring at him.  Fuck.  Busted.

            “Look, about that,” he stammered.  “It was a totally unconscious thing, okay?  A guy’s sleeping, and he feels someone next to him and just kind of goes for it automatically, you know?  I absolutely was not trying to, like, molest you or anything.”

            Hakkai nodded without speaking, and Gojyo wasn’t convinced that he’d bought it, which was completely unfair because the story was technically true.

            “I’m concerned,” said Hakkai at last after a bout of deep thought.  “Like you said last night, this has been a trivial ruse to perpetrate.  If one of us starts buying into the lie, then he’s going to get hurt, and hurt the other by association.  I don’t want either of us to get hurt.”

            “Neither do I,” Gojyo affirmed, “but like I said, that was an accident.”

            “I realize that,” said Hakkai quietly.  “I just wanted you to be aware of the dangerous line we’re treading.”

            “Oh, I’m aware,” he replied as he swung his legs out of bed and padded across the room to get dressed.  As an addendum, he thought, but at this point, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it.

            *          *          *

            They spent the day visiting some of the straight-owned antique stores, but if any of them were in possession of the type of artifacts they were looking for, the owners weren’t admitting it.  Subtle inquiries as to whether they had been approached by the young man Yao had described yielded nothing – either they hadn’t been approached and didn’t have the merchandise, or they’d bought from him and didn’t care to admit it.  Giving up for the day, they made their way to Hu’s, hoping either that their new friends had learned something, or that some conspicuous absence would indicate that the perpetrator was getting nervous.

            None of the dealers was there when they arrived, but they rolled in as a crowd later in the evening, raucous from a festive dinner.  They crowded into one of the big, round tables, and Yao, spotting Hakkai and Gojyo, beckoned them over.

            “What’s the occasion?” Gojyo asked, trying and failing to wedge himself into the space between Yao and Hakkai.  Even the chairs were against him, so he had to settle with sitting on Hakkai’s other side.

            “It’s Ken’s birthday,” Yao declared, indicating the young apprentice seated to Gojyo’s right, “so we took him out to celebrate.”

            Ken offered a wavering smile that grew suddenly serious.  His eyes widened as he stared at Gojyo.  “Do you know how fuckin’ hot you are?” he slurred.

            Gojyo wasn’t sure how to respond to that in a way that wouldn’t lead to a slobbering litany of his assets.  “I do, thanks,” he said pointedly.  “Hakkai tells me every morning.”

            The kid nodded dejectedly and mumbled, “Lucky prick” into his sake.

            “Har har!” guffawed the bear-like Kyo, who was flushed to a bright fuscia.  “You mean Big Hakkai or Little Hakkai?”  He laughed heartily, endangering everyone’s drinks by slamming his fist on the table.

            “Thank you, Kyo, for that exhibition of pure class,” said Yao acidly.

            “Aw, it was just a joke.”

            Yao turned to Hakkai, who was blushing more furiously than Gojyo had ever seen.  “Sorry about that.  He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s a good guy deep down.”

            Kyo was about to venture another witticism, presumably about just how deeply Yao knew him, but he was hurriedly shushed by Shen, by far the soberest of the bunch.

            Yao leaned in to whisper something to Hakkai, his face split by a complacent smile.  He was at it again, that bastard; Gojyo’s hand shot out to rest possessively on his friend’s leg.  Hakkai’s gaze flitted briefly toward him, but it was more questioning than disapproving.  Under pretense of joining the conversation across the table, Gojyo leaned forward so he could just barely understand what was being said.

            “…sure it’s obvious by now that I’d like to give you what you need.”  Yao caught Gojyo glancing at him, and lowered his voice even further, so that now only intermittent words and phrases filtered through the ambient noise of the crowded bar.  Gojyo strained his ears, while trying to look enthralled by a discussion of vintage ceramics.

            The next phrase he overheard was, “…down on my knees…”  

            Oh, come on, thought Gojyo.  He laughed loudly at something Enlai had just said that probably wasn’t supposed to be funny, and chortled, “Hakkai, you gotta hear this.”  He leaned back in his chair and turned his head to press his cheek against Hakkai’s, whispering into his ear.  As he did so, he took the opportunity to slide his hand farther up along Hakkai’s leg, where he could be damn sure Yao would see it.  The shift came naturally with the motion of his body, and a slight flinch of surprise was Hakkai’s only reaction. 

            “What the hell is this guy saying to you?” he hissed.

            Hakkai’s cheek shifted beneath his as he assembled an artificial smile in response to whatever Gojyo was supposed to be saying.  “I’ll tell you later.  Leave it be, Gojyo.”

            “But he’s…”

            “It’s fine.  Please, just don’t say anything.”

            Gojyo bit his lip.  This just wasn’t fair.  Acting secure in your relationship was one thing.  Standing idly by while another guy breathily propositioned your life partner was another.  Yes, the relationship was a lie – an increasingly inconvenient one judging by the nascent stirring in Gojyo’s pants as the warmth of Hakkai's body surged into his fingertips – but it still had to be credible.  He could live with the others thinking he was the submissive half of the partnership, but he didn’t want to come across as a fucking doormat.

            “C’mon, Hakkai, you can’t…”

            “Please.”

            The word was exhaled rather than spoken, and sent a little shiver through Gojyo’s nervous system, which had apparently taken the plea out of context.  He sighed in acquiescence, giving Hakkai’s thigh a quick pat to show that he understood, and leaned forward to return to the other conversation.  Nevertheless, he left his hand where it was.  If he was to be rendered mute, he could at least let his actions send a message for him.

            “Ha, ha.  Good one,” Hakkai said brightly.

            Enlai offered him a weak but gracious smile, unsure what he had said that was so droll.

            With Hakkai all to himself again, Yao wasted no time in upping the ante.  He scooted his chair closer and went back to whispering, his lips practically brushing Hakkai’s ear.  The next phrase that drifted into earshot was,

            “…a lot of tongue…”

            Gojyo cringed, but kept silent.  He glanced over at Yao, who made brief eye contact that clearly declared that he knew Gojyo was getting pissed, and didn’t care one iota.  In retaliation, Gojyo’s still hand shifted into a caress as he slid it inwardly along Hakkai’s thigh, rolling the pad of his thumb into the bundles of nerves he knew would yield little bursts of pleasure.  Hakkai shot him an angry, “Stop it!” look, but Gojyo pretended not to notice.  Instead, he tried to imagine what would look the most intimate to an outside observer, and he stretched his pinky to swipe teasingly at the uppermost accessible region of Hakkai’s inner thigh.  It was a good thing Hakkai dressed left, he thought.  Otherwise he would have been well into his First Gay Act.  His pants didn’t see the distinction, though, and with each movement of his hand, the inconvenient lie was swiftly giving rise to an inconvenient bulge. 

Hakkai was in no position to notice this, though, and he couldn’t justifiably complain about what Gojyo was doing – it didn’t count as gay until you actually touched dick.  Hakkai sat up straighter in his seat and his muscles tensed as Yao continued to bombard him with sweet, pornographic nothings.  His expression was placid, but Gojyo knew Hakkai well enough to perceive that he was annoyed.  Good.  Maybe he’d hit his limit soon and tell that asshole to hit the bricks.

            At that point, that idiot Yao actually brushed his lips against Hakkai’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp that occurred just as Gojyo made a particularly aggressive swipe with his pinky.  Concurrent with this event came the sound of a sultry whisper.  “…gorgeous face, perfect body, and the single finest ass I have ever seen in my life.”

            That had to be the limit, right?  The point at which Hakkai would tell him off.  But to Gojyo’s disappointment, Hakkai smiled faintly and gave Yao a sideways look that was nothing short of inviting.

            Well, fuck.  If Hakkai wasn’t going to do anything, Gojyo would.  Unable to keep silent any longer, he leapt to his feet.  “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?”

            “Why, whatever do you mean?” Yao was complacently calm, without bothering to look innocent.  He had the balls to leave his lips right where they were as he spoke, his breath condensing in a fine mist on the gleaming metal of Hakkai’s ear cuffs.

            “What do you fucking think I mean?” Gojyo growled.  “Hakkai and I are together, get it?  He’s not interested in you.”

            Yao gave a deep chuckle, like the arrogant prick he was.  “You were the one fondling him under the table.  I was just talking.”

            “Another second, and you would have moved on to licking.”

            This remark drew knowing snickers from around the table, and Yao joined the others in their mirth.  The only ones not amused were Gojyo and Hakkai.

            “Gojyo,” Hakkai said sharply, looking at him directly for the first time in what seemed like hours, “may I please speak to you in private?”

            Gojyo frowned, his temperament unimproved by the chorus of “oooooh”s expressing the sentiment that he was in trouble for something.  “Sure.”

            Hakkai grabbed his wrist and led him away, pausing to address Ming, the proprietor.

            “May we use your back room for a moment?”

            Ming looked skeptical.  “Um, sure, but… look, the health inspector’s coming in the morning, so…”

            “Don’t worry.  We’re just going to talk.”

            The bartender rolled his eyes in a way that said, “Sure, that’s what they all say.”

            *          *          *

            “What the hell was that?” Hakkai demanded once they were safely ensconced behind a row of shelves in the back kitchen.

            “I know.  Could that guy get a clue, or what?”

            “I meant you, Gojyo.”

            “Oh, that.  Look, I’m sorry, but there’s only so much humiliation a guy can take.  I had to say something.”

            “Not what you said.  What you did.  Didn’t you listen to what I said this morning?  About getting too wrapped up in the charade?”

            “Yeah, but that’s in private.  In public, we still have to keep up the act.”

            Hakkai put his hands on his hips, taking on that school marm posture he only used when he thought Gojyo was acting like a child and deserved to be treated like one.  “So you don’t think you did anything out-of-bounds, anything unfair to my wishes?”

            Gojyo was getting angry now, and he folded his arms defiantly.  “No, I don’t.  I was just trying to help you out.  Maybe get Yao to back off a little… Unless you’re actually interested in this guy.  In that case, have at him.  I won’t get in your way.”  This last statement was pure lashing out, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself.

            “Of course I’m not interested ,” said Hakkai wearily, “but Sanzo botched his investigation by antagonizing him, and I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

            “So you’re willing to tolerate his slobbery propositions just to avoid pissing him off?  You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit.  You could just turn him down gently instead of encouraging him.”

            “I’m encouraging him on purpose.”

            Gojyo exhaled through his nose.  “Any more encouragement and I’ll need to get my own room tonight, preferably one with sound-proof walls – that guy looks like a screamer.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I mean, if you’re willing to go that far when you don’t even like the guy, you’re a little too dedicated to this investigation.”

            “Wait,” Hakkai’s anger waned mildly.    “You really couldn’t hear what he was saying, could you?”

            “I just caught bits and pieces.  His tongue was delivering the message directly to your inner ear, if you recall.”

            Hakkai closed his eyes, mustering his patience.  “He was trying to help us out, Gojyo, to give us what we want.  He said he tried to get us the artifacts we needed, but he had no luck with any of the dealers in town.  He got down on his knees, begging, but no one had the merchandise.  It looks like the kid that approached him only visited gay antique dealers, which means that someone at the bar has been doing a lot of tongue-wagging, talking about the professional affairs of the patrons.  Yao was only whispering in case the informant was at the table – he didn’t want him to overhear.”

            Gojyo was a little mollified, and a little embarrassed.  “Man, why did I only catch the dirty-sounding bits?”

            “That’s a matter between you and your subconscious.”

            Gojyo felt the need to regain at least some of the moral high ground, if only to recover his pride.  “So what was that about the most spectacular ass he’d ever seen in his life?”

            Hakkai coughed.  “Ah, that would be Sanzo.  He suggested that if we wanted to risk purchasing stolen goods, that the enigmatic blond would be the one to seek out.  What you heard was just part of a very colorful description of Sanzo’s appearance.”

            “Great.”  Gojyo looked down at the floor and then up again.  “So we got nothing.”

            “Yao’s going to keep looking,” Hakkai said, “but you need to keep your fabricated jealousy in check.  We can’t afford to alienate him.”

            “Yeah, okay, but it ain’t easy, you know.”

            *          *          *

            The couple was taking a little too long in the back room, at least for my taste.  I’m all about helping folks lead a more satisfying life and everything, but the thought of that health inspector taking her black light to the countertop where I prepare the salads and having it light up like the Milky Way was a fairly horrifying prospect.

            I found an excuse to head back there and paused outside the door, expecting a sequence of animalistic grunts, but instead I heard voices, hushed and intense.

            “What about me, Gojyo?  Can’t you see how hard this is?”

            “Not as hard as me watching that wannabe Casanova try to seduce you.”

            Oh, I thought, so that’s their game.  It was a pretty common fetish, but I’d never pegged those two for the voyeuristic cuckolding type.

            “How long do you expect me to keep this up, Hakkai?”

            “Until we finish.”

            I sighed.  I knew it.  I’ll be up all night with a bucket of bleach or it’ll be goodbye health approval.

            “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”
            “You need to learn more discipline.  You’ll just have to be patient.”

            “Yeah?  For how long?”

            “The rest of the night, for starts.  Another week if you have to.  Don’t you want to be satisfied at the end?”

            Man, now discipline and delayed release?  How many kinks did these guys have?

            “I know you can do it, Gojyo.”

            “Fine.  For you, I’ll hold out.  But you owe me.”

            “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

            Sensing that their conversation was drawing to a close, I withdrew to the bar, grateful that at least I wouldn’t have a mess on my hands.

            *          *          *

            Gojyo dropped sulkily into his chair, bristling as Hakkai made his apologies to Yao and resumed their conversation.  Defeated, Gojyo resorted to chatting with a barely coherent Ken, who had been composing poorly-metered sonnets in beer on the tabletop.  He was getting bolder with more drink in him, and kept touching Gojyo’s arm and trying to pass out against his shoulder.  Gojyo put off the first couple of efforts, but caught Hakkai glancing dubiously in his direction.

            Fine.  Let’s see how he likes it.  If Hakkai can flirt for a noble cause, Gojyo could do it for a self-righteous one.  He let Ken’s hand linger on his bicep, complimented his hair and eyes, and did pretty much everything he could to keep up the persona of roguish paramour.  Hakkai was getting increasingly distracted from his conversation, and his arm gradually crept across the back of Gojyo’s chair.  He snorted in grim triumph at Hakkai’s distress.  It was no more than he deserved.

            When Ken’s right hand landed on Gojyo’s knee, Hakkai pulled him in to whisper, “What the hell are you doing?”

            “Flirting,” Gojyo whispered back.  “It’s what you want, right?”

            “That’s not funny, Gojyo.”

            “Let’s just say it’s a strategic move against getting too invested in the lie.”  It was hard to conceal the bitterness in that statement, but the whisper managed to mask his tone.  Deep down, he knew that Hakkai was right.  He was taking it seriously now, and Hakkai obviously wasn’t comfortable with how that manifested.  So for the sake of their friendship, Gojyo wouldn’t touch him.  He’d keep his hands to himself, let Hakkai sleep his way to the culprit if that was his plan, and try his damndest not to think about how much that would hurt.  Still, he couldn’t help but feel wounded that Hakkai had no problem with Yao’s attention, but got pissed off at the idea of Gojyo touching him.  Maybe the difference was just that, once this was all over, he wouldn’t have to stare at Yao’s face across the breakfast table every morning, but it stung, nevertheless.

            His only recourse of consolation was to get piss-assed drunk and throw himself into his immature vengeance on the off-chance that Hakkai would get a taste of his own medicine.  Gojyo threw back a glass of sake and leaned in to let Ken whisper a shockingly mature proposition for such a young man. 

            “Now, now,” he replied in his best ‘step away, come closer’ ambiguous tone.  “I’m happily attached, ya know.  Course, there are always exceptions.”

Hakkai must have heard this, because his hand clamped down hard on Gojyo’s shoulder.  His keen eyes followed the snaking trajectory of Ken’s hand working its way up Gojyo’s thigh.  When Ken’s other hand slipped beneath Gojyo’s sleeve and slid up his arm, Hakkai felt it beneath his grip, but still he said nothing.  Based on his own injunctions, he had no right to, but Gojyo was still hoping for a response.

The awaited breaking-point came a little later than he might have wished, when Ken’s drunken grab for Gojyo’s nether regions elicited a yelp of surprise.

            Hakkai pulled Gojyo toward him by the shoulder and leaned across to address Ken.  “Pardon me a moment.  I just need to have a word with my partner.”

            Gojyo turned to face him with a smug smirk.  “So what’s the problem, Hak – mmmph!”

            Strong fingers braced against his cheekbones, holding his head in place as Hakkai planted an angry kiss against his lips.  Gojyo’s hands shot up to grip the back of his head, pressing them together with a fierce insistency until a metallic tang revealed that one of their lips had been split.  Hakkai’s tongue darted forward to plunge into Gojyo’s mouth, and he met it with equal force.  Everything about the kiss was naked ferocity that showed no sign of relenting.

            “Deaf to the salacious “wooo!”s coming from the table around them, Gojyo pressed harder, as if his fingers could sink into Hakkai’s skull.  He ran his tongue over Hakkai’s teeth and lips, finding that sharp-tasting spot that indicated a recent lesion.  Then he took that lower lip between his teeth and sucked gently, drawing out the blood, wondering if his lips were stained the color of his hair, until Hakkai drew deliberately away.

            Ho-ly Shit.  Gojyo had never kissed like that in his life – it was so raw and feral and mind-blowingly fucking hot that he could hardly breathe.  But when he looked up at Hakkai, eager to share a sense of mutual amazement and profound discovery, those green eyes were cold and defiant, even angry.  What the fuck?

            “Excuse us,” Gojyo said abruptly, grabbing Hakkai’s hand and pulling him into the bathroom.

            They had to wait in awkward silence while another patron finished up his necessities.  Once he was gone, Gojyo jammed the door closed with an old mop handle.

            Hakkai just glared.  “It’s not so easy is it?  Not when you’re on the receiving end of unwelcome… oof!”

            Gojyo wasn’t in the mood for Hakkai’s snarky backtalk.  He just wanted to kiss him hard and long, like it was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life.  He wanted to stay locked up in that dubious paradise of a restroom until all the bar denizens got bladder infections and the owner came busting in with an axe.  He grabbed Hakkai’s shoulders and slammed him into the wall, devouring his lips with thoughtless abandon, wanting to press him flat against the dirty tiles and absorb his whole body.

            But Hakkai had other ideas.  Gojyo found himself suddenly shoved away with inhuman strength and what felt like a crackle of electricity.  “Stop it,” Hakkai snarled.

            Steadying himself on the sink, Gojyo tried to wrap his mind about what the fuck Hakkai’s problem was.  First it was, “Don’t touch me,” then, “Here, see if you can swallow my tongue,” and now, “Back off of my tonsils, bub.”  He wished he’d make up his fucking mind.  Gojyo was muddle-headed enough by this situation as it was.  “What the fuck, Hakkai?  You did the same thing to me two seconds ago.”

            “That was different.  It was part of the cover.  But with this…”  He gestured vaguely between them.  “Are you actively trying to piss me off?”

            “So… you don’t want me to kiss you.  That’s what you’re saying.”

            “Not in private, no.  I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.”

            Gojyo rubbed his temples.  Okay, so maybe he’d gotten a little too carried away by the moment, but how did Hakkai expect him to react to a kiss like that?  And who the fuck did he think he was, lambasting Gojyo for a (mostly) innocent little leg rub and then turning around and sticking his tongue down his throat?  Talk about mixed signals – they couldn’t even get on the same page in their fake relationship, let alone their real one.  He was in the midst of composing a devastating retort when Hakkai spoke up again.  He was still angry, but visibly straining to keep it under control.

            “Look, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to put this all on you.  It’s just that… this assignment has not been easy for me, especially the last couple of days.  I guess I’m lashing out.”

            “You got that right,” muttered Gojyo, rolling his shoulders to pull his vest back into place.  “Here’s what I don’t understand: we’ve been faking it successfully for a week, and suddenly you go all gay-panic on me.  What’s the deal?  Is this about what happened this morning?  ‘Cause I told you before, I didn’t mean…”

            “I know,” Hakkai interrupted with uncharacteristic sharpness.  “It’s not about what happened, it’s about what I said.   If one of us…”

            “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah.”  Gojyo was sick of listening to Hakkai’s dire fucking warnings, especially when it was already too late. 

            “All I’m saying is that the more physical we get with each other, the more the problem is exacerbated.”

            “So you say.  But you had no problem kissing me like the world was about to end.”

            “I was trying to prove a point.”

            “Well, if so, it went way the fuck over my head.  Tell me, genius, exactly what the hell was I supposed to learn from that?”

            “A lesson about the distastefulness of unwelcome advances.”

            “’Unwelcome…’  Are you talking about Ken?  Sure, maybe I let him take a few too many liberties, but – hey – it’s his birthday, so I figured…”

            “Not Ken.  Me.”

            “You?  Hell, you rescued me.  And unlike some people, I can recognize and appreciate a rescue when I see one.”

            “Gojyo, if you genuinely believed that was nothing more than a rescue, you wouldn’t have dragged me in here.  You’re trying to get back at me for taking it too personally before.  That’s why you were flirting with Ken, that’s why you brought me in here.  It’s a punishment.”

            Gojyo rubbed his jaw and puckered his lips experimentally.  Punishment, eh?  His technique must be going downhill.  “Hakkai, when have you ever known me to do something that complicated?  We both knew from the beginning what this investigation entailed.  If one of us is taking it too seriously, he’ll get over it once we wrap this up and things go back to normal.”

            “Do you truly believe that’s possible?”

            “I have to.  Look, we’ll each deal with our own issues and try to remember that this is business, not personal.  We’ll suck it up for the remainder of the investigation and work things out when we get home.”

            Hakkai shook his head faintly.  “It’s only going to get worse you know.”

            Throwing his hands up in frustration, Gojyo growled.  “This isn’t easy for me either, you know.  So can you just explain to me – preferably in small words – what is suddenly so difficult about having to tolerate a little fake intimacy for the sake of a greater cause?  What about that is too hard for you to handle?”

            “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

            “I think you owe me that.”

            Hakkai shook his head bitterly.  As he mustered his thoughts, his expression intensified with anger and frustration.  When he finally spoke, it came out in a furious rush.  “What’s too hard is stifling a fucking erection when your hand is roving over my leg, a fingertip away from figuring me out.  What’s too hard is to sleep with you every night and know I can’t touch you, that everything is just a sham.  What’s too hard is waking up in your arms only to have you leap away like I’ve got the plague.  You keep giving me these glimpses of something wonderful, and knowing that it will never happen just makes it all the more painful.  That’s why I asked you to stop.  I’ve reached the limit of my self-control.”

            Gojyo had had the good sense to just stand back and let him rail.  He’d never seen Hakkai so vehement, and it was an intriguing change to find him so wound up, especially if his hasty monologue meant what Gojyo thought it meant.

            “So,” he said calmly, “When you fed me all that talk about getting too attached, you were talking about yourself.”

            “Of course,” said Hakkai wearily.  “What did you think?”

            “I thought you were talking about me.  Warding me off.”

            “What?”

            “Yeah.  What a couple of idiots.”

            Hakkai shook his head, failing to comprehend under the weight of his emotional outburst.

            Just to make things perfectly clear, Gojyo gripped Hakkai’s arm and said, “For the record, this is not a rescue and hopefully not a punishment.”  He ran gentle fingers down Hakkai’s jaw line and back up his cheek to comb into his hair.  Then he leaned in and brushed motionless lips across Hakkai’s, feeling the smoothness disrupted by the split skin on his lower lip.  He darted a tongue out to lick the wound, then closed his lips over it before working his way out to cover Hakkai’s mouth.  A tentative tongue crept out to meet his.  Hakkai’s chest was already heaving from his previous passion, and in a palpable shift of understanding, his breath hitched, and his hands shot up to cup Gojyo’s face, fingers spread wide.  His brow was furrowed as if relishing the moment before Gojyo’s body dissolved into mist in the cruel termination of a waking dream.

            Gojyo pulled away, smiling gently.  “I was afraid you’d find out.”

            Laughing, and still a bit muddled with disbelief, Hakkai said, “It’s tough to overlook this kind of evidence.”

            “Oh, I’ve got better evidence than this.”  Gently, he took Hakkai’s hand and drew it down to his waistband, where a piece of very hard evidence was firmly apparent.  He pressed Hakkai’s hand firmly against his groin, then slid it up his body until he could plant a delicate kiss on his palm.  “Whaddya say we get out of here?”

            Amidst Hakkai’s labored breathing, his face showed the conflict between duty and desire.  “But what about the investigation?”

            “It’ll keep ‘til tomorrow.  And by then, our cover story will be a bit more authentic.”

            *          *          *

           Most of the customers had gone home, and Gojyo and Hakkai were taking their sweet time locked in the bathroom, so I drew myself a beer, and wandered over to sit with the antique dealers.

            “Looks like you struck out again, Yao,” I said.  “You’re losing your touch.”

            Yao shrugged.  “The night’s not over yet.”

            Min snorted.  “They’re probably fucking in the bathroom right now.”

            “I’ve gotten in between many a couple who has.”

            “Literally, Har har!”

            I shook my head and sighed.  “Just have another drink, Kyo.”  He poured a sloshing mug from the pitcher and did so.

            Most of the men at the table were merry drunks, which was a hell of a lot less annoying than violent or morose, but young Ken seemed less than delighted by the way his birthday was turning out.

            “Man, I was just starting to make progress with Gojyo, too,” he whined.  “Then that jerk had to drag him away.”

            “Yeah, some nerve he has dragging his own boyfriend away from a prospective tryst with a teenager,” said Shen sarcastically.  “The insolence!”  I had to agree with him there.  Not that it was any of my business of course, but we old-timers didn’t quite like the trends in promiscuity and faithlessness the younger generation was going for.  By devaluing the commitments of our community, they were devaluing our community as a whole, but I kept my mouth shut about that kind of thing.  It was bad for business.

            “C’mon, Yao, help me out,” Ken begged.  “What’s your secret?”

            “If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been all that successful on my side of things.”

            “That’s just because you haven’t found your angle.  I don’t even know how to look for one.  Tell me, please!  How can I get Gojyo?”

            Yao sighed tolerantly.  “It’s really quite simple.  You just take a look at the guy you want to get rid of, and ask yourself what he has that you don’t have, and more importantly, what you have that he doesn’t.  So tell me, what have you got?”

            “Um… youth?”

            “Pah!”  Kyo belched contemptuously.  “Hakkai’s barely any older than you.  How the hell old did you think he was?”

            “Forty,” came the snotty reply.

            “Ooooh!” gasped the Enlai the drama queen in a scandalized voice.  “Catty!”

            “Hey, hey – I resemble that remark,” protested Shen.

            “Which one?  Forty or catty?”

            “Both!  Har har!”

            “Just watch it, there, Enlai,” I warned.  “Any more knocks against forty-somethings, and I’m going to stop serving umbrella drinks.”

            Enlai gasped and bit back tears.  That threat was always remarkably effective at shutting him up.

            “Can we get back to the point?” demanded Ken.  “This is important.”

            “’Important’ is apparently the new ‘hopeless’,” muttered Shen, quietly enough so that only I could hear.

            “You’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Yao told Ken patiently.  Isn’t there anything you can give Gojyo that he can’t get from Hakkai?”

            “A good blow job!”

            “Honey, no couple would be going strong after a year if one of them couldn’t give a good blow job,” Enlai laughed.

            “Ha.  Seriously,” said Min.  “Why do you think I keep ditching women and coming back to you guys?  All gay men give good blow jobs, and if they don’t, they learn pretty fucking quickly if they expect to get any.”

            This tactful conversation was disrupted by the clatter of a mop handle hitting the floor, and a short time later, Gojyo and Hakkai emerged from the restroom, looking a tad self-conscious at the awareness that we all knew exactly what they’d been about.  They made their apologies, muttered something about their tab, and hurriedly left the bar.

           “Damn,” snorted Kyo, “they’re in one long honeymoon phase, I’ll tell you that.”

            Yao watched the door swing closed behind them with that incisive gaze of his.  “Maybe,” he murmured, “and maybe not.”

            Ken, in the meantime, had broken down into snuffling sobs.  He wasn’t usually this much of a ninny, but he was about a dozen drinks beyond his limit, and the breakdown was easily forgiven.  Yao let him cry into his shoulder, gingerly patting his back, while the others offered such sensitive encouragements as, “Get a hold of yourself, princess!”  “Yeah!  Be a man!” “Perhaps you’ll remember this the next time you try to break up a happy couple” and “I finally swear off women, and I have to put up with this shit?”

            Yao urged Ken gently to his feet.  “Come on, kid, I’ll take you home.  We can do a little more brainstorming on the way, all right?”

            Ken gave his snuffling assent and they departed, leaving the rest of us in relative peace.

            I had begun sweeping up for the night after the others trickled away, when Kyo returned from the restroom – the first person to visit it since Gojyo and Hakkai’s little escapade.  “Hey, Ming.  Remember the redhead and the geek?  he chortled, jerking his thumb at the men’s room door. “Well, cleanup in aisle five,”

            I winced.  That place saw a lot of sex, but most people were at least courteous enough to wipe up after themselves.  “They didn’t…”

            “Naw, I was just yankin’ yer chain, har har.  But seriously, buddy, there’s a toilet backed up in there.  It ain’t pretty.”

            *          *          *

            Even though it would stall the case, Gojyo was hoping that nobody else would show up at the bar that night.  He just wanted to be alone with Hakkai, kiss Hakkai, fuck Hakkai; he felt like an idiot because he actually felt giddy, and that was such a non-Gojyo way to feel that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself… other than the aforementioned activities, that was.  But Hakkai had insisted, and there they were, laughing and drinking at their old private table with a newly comfortable air between them.  Gojyo hadn’t even realized how much tension there had been until it flooded away in a series of spasming spurts.

            To his surprise, it was beginning to look like his wish would come true.  After a couple of hours, the place was quiet, with nary an antique dealer to be found.  Ming was at his solitary station, wiping down the bar, and the shiftless waiters leaned against the back wall, smoking cigarettes and bullshitting about politics.  Just when it was beginning to shape into a perfect, quiet evening, who should walk through the door but Yao, who naturally made a beeline for Hakkai.  The only thing keeping Gojyo from knocking his teeth in was the fact that he was their best – their only – inside resource into closing the case.

He beamed flirtatiously at Hakkai, but the one he addressed was Gojyo.  “Have I got a man for you.”

            “Already have one,” Gojyo grumbled.  “You might have noticed.”

            “Just take a look,” Yao urged, handing him a slip of paper.

            Begrudgingly, Gojyo glanced it over.  It contained a name and an address.  “Ken, your apprentice?  Look, he’s a nice kid and all, but no thanks.”

            “You’re not interested?”

            Hakkai offered him a pinched smile and covered Gojyo’s hand with his own.  “He’s not interested.”

            “Not even if he’s the criminal you’ve been looking for?”

            Gojyo shook his head steadfastly.  “No, not even if he’s the… wait, what?”

            Hakkai gave a confused laugh, which to Gojyo’s ears was obviously false.  “We’re not looking for a criminal.  We’re just looking for…”

            “Artifacts, yeah.  That just happen to be from the same dynasties represented by Ken’s little take.  Quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

            Neither of them knew quite what to say.  Yao’s relaxed attitude was strangely disarming.

            He smiled, knowing he was spot-on in his assessment.  “So what are you guys?  Like, undercover cops?”

            Gojyo was about to protest, but Hakkai narrowed his eyes and said, “Something like that, yes.”

            Yao nodded sagely, and Gojyo said, “So what gave us away?  It was the interior decorator thing, wasn’t it?”  He turned to Hakkai.  “I told you not to pick that job.  No way would anyone believe that we were interior decorators.”

            “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Yao laughed.  “With the number of tasteless rich people out there, almost anyone can be an interior decorator.  No, what tripped you up is that I couldn’t believe you were lovers.”

            At the irony of this, a subtle smile blossomed across Hakkai’s face, but Yao’s misguided fucking presumption just pissed Gojyo off.  “Oh yeah?  And what exactly made you think that?”

            Laughing in the face of his anger, Yao twirled a finger in arbitrary patterns on the table.  When he glanced up, he was looking straight at Gojyo.  “Simple.  After my propositions last night, the evening should have had only two possible outcomes.  If you were really lovers, either you would have beat the shit out of me, or he would have wound up back at my place with his legs around my neck while you sat here crying into a fruity drink.”

            Gojyo glared at Hakkai warily.  “Propositions?”

            “Oh, didn’t he tell you?”

            “You said he was just talking business.”

            “Well he was, mostly,” laughed Hakkai nervously.  “I just left out some of his… ancillary suggestions when I recounted the conversation.”

            Unwilling to aggravate Hakkai with the promise of hot sex in the near future, Gojyo turned his irritation upon Yao.  “And you think him turning you down proves he’s not gay?”

            Yao leaned forward, whispering, “they were very vivid ancillary suggestions.  Never failed in my experience.”

            “You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

            “Red, you don’t know the half of it.  In fact, I suspect you are the half of it.”  He winked at Hakkai as if sharing a private joke.

            Chair legs scraped against wood floor as Gojyo rose to smack him one, but Hakkai eased him back down with a gentle tug.  “So you figured us out, but you’re still helping us.  Why?”

            “This kind of thing is bad for business.  I’d suspected Ken was one of the culprits for a while now, but it became crystal clear with the evidence that came to light when you two showed up.  Still, I didn’t have the means of finding out the truth until his little crush on Gojyo made him desperate and stupid – usually he’s just stupid.  Last night I managed to coax out of him the one thing he thought would win Gojyo’s heart: a statuette from the Tang Dynasty.  After that, all it took was a few sympathetic words to get the whole story.  He’d teamed up with this three brothers.  The older two did the thieving, the younger was the fence, and Ken was their inside contact in to the antiquities world.”

            “But why did he only try to sell to his friends?”

            “I told you before, that kid never bothered to learn the industry.  His entire professional contact list consists of guys he met in places like this.  The one thing I can’t figure out is how that snotty blond fits into this.  I was sure he was involved somehow, but there’s no way he’s related to Ken.” 

            “Ah.  That would be our employer,” said Hakkai with an uncomfortable laugh.

            Yao raised his eyebrows.  “Really?  My condolences.”  A pair of attractive teenagers wandered into the bar at this point, looking eager but uncertain, and he rose to take his leave.  “The four brothers are holed up at that address, complete with their stash, so you should have no trouble rounding them up.”  As he walked away, he offered an airy wave and said, “I expect I won’t see you two again, but call me if you ever decide to switch teams, Hakkai.”  Then he approached the newcomers, put an arm around each, and purred, “Who’s up for a drink?”

            “Hu’s Up?  Ha ha, I get it!” said one of the youngsters.

            “Be cool, man,” chided his friend.

            “Allow me to explain,” said Yao smoothly as he led them to the bar.  “Ming!  A round for my friends here.”

            Gojyo and Hakkai looked at each other uncertainly.

            “I can’t believe that dipshit solved the case,” Gojyo grumbled.

            “Ah well, a win’s a win.  Shall we go take in the malefactors?”

            “Why not.  If they’re as wussy as I suspect, we can be home in time for cobbler.”

            The cobbler was fucking divine.

            *          *          *

            A month after apprehending Ken and his brothers, Gojyo and Hakkai made a trip back to Hu’s.  The floor was still dusty, the waiters still smoked, and the beer was still less watered down than the typical tavern fare.  The faces were familiar.  Nothing had changed but them, and it was a change they both relished.

            Gojyo had been dreading the moment when Yao showed up, but when he finally arrived and spotted them, he regarded their presence with a curious interest that shone through his usual smarmy mask.  He ambled over and tilted his head.  “You boys on another case?”

            “Not this time,” said Gojyo, propping his feet on the table and stretching his arm to rest across Hakkai’s shoulders.  Take that, you arrogant bastard.

            Hakkai smiled at Yao’s startled expression and reached up to entwine his fingers with Gojyo’s.  “This time we’re ordinary customers, just like you.”

            Yao’s lips parted, and Gojyo prepared himself for the singular pleasure of watching that guy eat his words, but to his disappointment, he just laughed.  “You two fell for each other?  That’s hysterical.  It’s like something out of those gay romance novels Enlai’s always blithering about.  But I must say, your back cover would hardly be compelling: Two straight cops find love in an unexpected place when together they must brave the perils of a bar full of docile queers and a family of incompetent criminals.”

            “That wouldn’t do anyway,” Hakkai chuckled.  “It gives away the ending.”

            While they were talking, Kyo’s hulking form had emerged through the doorway and lumbered to the bar for a pitcher of beer.

            “Hey,” Gojyo murmured, looking apprehensively at Kyo, whom he suspected could be irrationally resentful and prone to violence.  “Did you tell the other guys about us?  That we were faking them out, I mean.”

            “Hardly,” said Yao.  “If I did that, the truth would come out about Ken, and that would only make me look bad.  I told them he ran off with a wandering zither player, so mum’s the word, okay?”

            “Your secret’s safe with us.”

            Yao arched an eyebrow.  “The others will be here soon.  Why don’t you join us?”

            “That depends,” Gojyo said dubiously.  “Will there be any ancillary suggestions?”

            “Heaven forbid.  I would never hit on a straight guy.”

            Hakkai knitted his brow, unable to see how Yao could have overlooked the obvious.  “But… but we’re…”

            With a shrug and a glittering smile, Yao said, “Everybody has their exceptions.”

            *          *          *

            Excursions to Hu’s became a weekly ritual for Gojyo and Hakkai, fueled by a strong attachment to the place that had brought them together.  Sometimes they sat with Yao and the others, sometimes they kept to themselves, but it remained a sort of haven where their secret life could be openly displayed.  Life at home had slipped into an idealized version of their earlier routine, but they had found it remarkably easy to integrate old life and new. 

            A few months after the Hu’s case, Gojyo came home to find Hakkai sitting at the table, an unopened letter from Sanzo in front of him.  “Looks like another job,” he said. “I thought I’d wait, so we could open it together.”

            Gojyo shrugged out of his coat and flung it over a chair, a stern glance from Hakkai convincing him to think better of it and hang it properly on a hook.

            “I’ve been thinking…” Hakkai said.

            “Uh oh.”

            “No, it’s nothing serious.  I’m just wondering whether we should tell Sanzo… about us, I mean.”

            Opening up a beer, Gojyo ambled over to the table and slouched into a chair.  “Well, it’s none of his fucking business, but I sure as hell don’t want him dropping in at inconvenient times.”

            “So you think we should tell him?”

            “Yeah.”

            Hakkai nodded.  “So do I.  But it’s going to be an awkward conversation.”

            Gojyo chuckled over the lip of his bottle.  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

            “You have met Sanzo, correct?”

            “Yeah, but he’s not dumb.  Remember: four months ago I forwarded him our tab from Hu’s.”

            Hakkai nodded his head in confusion.  “So?  He’s the one who assigned us that job.  He knows what that was about.”

            “True, but then I kept on sending ‘em.”

            “You mean, you…?”

            “Yep.”

            “And this letter?”

            “Chuck it.  It’s probably a bill.”

End.