A/N: Written for LiveJournal writing community 10 whores challenge, prompt number 8 – eight. I still can't bring myself to write this pairing as anything more than gen, orz.
Warnings: None. Worksafe.
Disclaimer: Saiyuki is the intellectual property of Minekura Kazuya and all associated companies. No copyright infringement intended and no money is being made from this.
They were both drunk. Totally fucking wasted, in fact. Except that they couldn't have been; they could still function quite normally, but there really was no other way to explain that night. It had been raining all afternoon and yes, they had gotten separated from Gojyo and Goku in the carnival taking place in the town, and they had apparently ended up staying at different inns. Which didn't even matter, really, because they were all headed one way and the morning would find them all on the same path again. It always did.
So while the fireworks painted the sky in almost all colours of the rainbow, Sanzo and Hakkai were having a drinking party with their lonesome selves in an empty dining room. Owners and visitors alike were currently out on the streets, celebrating whatever festival. The outside air was still damp and trees were still heavy with rain, so neither of the two wanted to take part in the celebration. They had nothing to celebrate, anyway, though Goku was always up for a party and didn't look like Gojyo would terribly mind it either. (They hadn't stopped to find out what it was, though they had paused briefly because Gojyo had started hitting on women from the moment they'd entered this town and Goku had ran off towards the food counters. Sanzo had sent the former to hell, smacked around the second with his fan and paid for the food, and then they had split up, looking for an inn that would have a free room.)
Done with the drinking, they returned to their tiny room. The inn had been filled to the brim and the room they had gotten wasn't even a visitor's room, but rather a recently-deceased worker's chamber. Neither Sanzo, nor Hakkai cared about this. It wasn't the most terrible place they'd spent the night at; far from it. As long as they had a roof over head and some semblance of a bed, it was quite fine by them. For the most part.
The cockroaches weren't welcome guests and after Sanzo put several bullet holes in the floor and walls, not missing a single one even in his heavily drunk state, the room seemed more passable, if a little bit drafty. But nothing Hakkai couldn't fix with a few ruined socks that used to belong to Gojyo and one that looked like Goku's. (He was humming softly to himself while he stuffed them into the holes; their own fault for leaving their luggage behind.) Perhaps it gave a touch of the wrong odour to the room, but after Sanzo started smoking, one couldn't really tell the difference anymore.
The room was very small. There wasn't enough place for a bed, let alone a table or chairs. Therefore the room had just a futon and hooks in the walls for hanging clothes. The innkeeper had hastily ordered the addition of another futon, and now they were side by side, stuffed in the far end under the window, taking up the floor from wall to wall. Hakkai drowsily noted the smoking holes that had appeared in the bed clothing and sighed, wondering if the innkeeper would charge them for those as well, or give them discount for exterminating bugs.
He didn't really count on the latter.
Sanzo sat somewhere around the middle of the makeshift bedding, still smoking, and even if Hakkai was concerned about that, he didn't show it. Burning to death while asleep in his own bed – what a perfectly fitting end for a Sanzo priest.
Sanzo stubbed the cigarette out against the wall and tossed the remaining fag-end towards the door, barely missing Hakkai.
"Good night, Sanzo," Hakkai said, having somehow managed to make both beds around his still sitting leader (though the result was far from okay), but he couldn't move Sanzo's feet away from his side of the futon. Not unless he wanted to sleep on them, which, he deduced in his drunken mind, wouldn't be that bad. Sanzo wasn't Goku. He didn't kick around in his sleep. Could maybe shoot him if he wanted to get up or get more comfortable in his side of the bed. Would possibly miss though; somebody had to drive Jeep.
"Fuck you," Sanzo muttered, low. He had his eyes closed, thinking of who knows what. Maybe the Goku was calling him, again. Or maybe his memories couldn't let him go, not so soon after it had rained. It could be anything and nothing. Not like it was anyone else's business, but sometimes they just couldn't help wondering in silence about what was going on in their leader's head.
Hakkai laughed; not that usual bashful teacher's laugh, but something entirely different now, in this late hour. "I don't think you'd like that, Sanzo."
"Probably not," was the response. Half-earnest. Half- what was it? Couldn't be... regret?
Was he even paying attention to the conversation? Hakkai wondered, but the thought didn't linger. He quirked an eyebrow instead, removing the headband and hanging it carelessly on the nearest hook that also held his shirt. Not like they could even manage, considering the state they were in, but...
Sanzo's gun jerked up lightning-fast. His closed eyes opened a little; eyelids heavy and half-mast. "Just you fucking try."
The words didn't have the usual force behind them though, slurred as they were. He was too drunk to even care, but was still holding to his principles to the last. Hakkai laughed and waved the idea away; just like that, with one hand and an askew smile, and a twinkle in his one good eye.
It ended there that night.