InsaneJournal

Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	fic, saiyuki

[FIC] Saiyuki-- "One Night in Bangkok" (Hakkai/Gojyo) AU
Thus begins my determination to post the actual FIC to IJ, and not just a link back to stupid LJ.

Title: One Night in Bangkok
Author: writerzilch
Pairing: Hakkai/Gojyo
Rating: R
Summary: The rain gods have seen fit to bless, apparently, because the guy who walks in has 'easy mark' stamped all over him.
Notes: This was only supposed to be a comment-drabble for Chomiji over on LJ, but her prompt bunnied me so freaking hard that it turned into... this. Whatever this is.

The prompt was "Hakkai/Gojyo AU - in a bar in a city overseas, Gojyo's a roving gambler, Hakkai a local poor intellectual who's just come in soaked from the rain."




Gojyo looks up when the little bell over the door rings, because fresh patrons mean fresh opponents, and Gojyo needs somebody to take money from.

The rain gods have seen fit to bless, apparently, because the guy who walks in has 'easy mark' stamped all over him. He's soaked to the bone and a little wide-eyed as he takes in the neon bar with its neon bar-girls-- tired and bored-looking bar-girls, because it's midnight and there's a small typhoon blowing outside, and there hasn't been anyone new in for hours.

The guy sits down at a stool one place away from Gojyo. He has dark hair and nerdy glasses and a distracted air that reminds Gojyo of the professors in college, back when he was still trying to make something out of himself.

"Helluva night to be out," Gojyo says, without looking up from his game of solitaire.

The man jumps, like he's startled that anyone would talk to him in a public bar. "...Yes," he replies, after an awkward pause. "The storm really is quite bad. I'm surprised to find anything open." His glasses, Gojyo notes when he glances up, have fogged over, and he appears to be trying to wring the water from the ends of his button-down shirt.

Gojyo stubs out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and lights another to take its place. "So why're you out? Most people with sense are tucked away at home tonight."

"I could ask you the same question, then," says the man, and then he punctuates the statement with a sneeze.

"Shit, you're soaked through. Pakpao, get the guy some coffee or something. Coffee," he repeats, miming a pouring motion. One of the bar girls detaches herself from the counter and scurries over to the coffee machine. Gojyo watches her tip a few fingers of whiskey into the mug before pouring the coffee in.

"Thank you," says the man, shivering.

"On me," says Gojyo, to his own surprise. Maybe having someone to talk to is hitting his generosity buttons. "And to answer the first question, I live upstairs, so it's not like I had to hike."

"That must be very convenient," the guy says as he accepts his coffee from Pakpao, who has long nails and perky tits and a neon orange skirt that barely covers the essentials. The guy doesn't even seem to notice.

"I'm Gojyo," says Gojyo, because it seems like the polite thing to say.

"Hakkai," says the man, wincing as the coffee burns his tongue. He makes a face after the first sip. "Is this really coffee?"

"Well, just think of it this way: it's hot," Gojyo says.

"An excellent point."

"So, you just like strolling around in hurricanes, or what, Hakkai?"

Hakkai ducks his head. His hands are curled around the chipped white mug. "Ah, about that. I was evicted from my apartment tonight, rather forcibly. I didn't have anyplace to go."

Gojyo whistles and shuffles his cards. "Nasty. What happened?"

"A... misunderstanding," Hakkai says. Something in his tone is dark, like a warning.

"Misunderstanding, huh? Musta been bad, if your landlord would kick you out into this mess." Outside the wind is still howling; rain splatters against the shuttered windows with a sound like gravel being flung against the glass. It's almost loud enough to drown out the tinny warbling of the ancient jukebox in the corner.

Hakkai looks down into the swirling depths of his coffee and says nothing. The lights from all the neon bar signs wash him pale and then warm; Heineken, Asahi, Singha Beer. His hair has started to dry.

"Hey, none of my business, I got ya." Gojyo motions at the bar, and another beer slides into his hand, like magic. "Anyway, you got nowhere to go?"

"Not at the moment, no."

It's a stupid impulse that takes Gojyo, then. The fact that they're a couple of ex-pats doesn't mean they can trust each other, but it's been so long since Gojyo had anyone to talk to.

So he says, "My place is right upstairs."

Hakkai looks up, expression first startled, then wary. "This isn't by any chance a pass, is it?"

"What? No!" Behind him Pakpao giggles. "You ain't my type, pal, unless you can look that good in a skirt."

"I shouldn't think so."

"I'm just offering you the couch," Gojyo goes on. "It's a shitty couch, but it's better than sleeping in a doorway somewhere." He could point out that there's a hostel about five blocks east, but for some reason he holds his tongue. It really has been too long since he's had a decent conversation, he thinks.

Hakkai smiles. The expression is more than a little awkward, like maybe he's not used to it. "If I wouldn't be an imposition, then."

Gojyo flicks ashes and then waves his hand. "Nah. But you don't snore, do you?"

"I'm usually asleep when that's supposed to happen, so I couldn't say."

Gojyo snorts and leans heavy on one elbow, into Hakkai's personal space. "You're a funny guy, you know that?"

Hakkai smiles again, a little easier this time. "I aim to please," he says.

***

The light in the stairway leading up to Gojyo's apartment has been out for ages, so they stumble in the dark all the way up to the door. Gojyo fumbles with his keys; Hakkai stands close on the tiny landing, so close that Gojyo can smell the rain on his skin.

"Here we go," he says, rattling the key and shoving the door open at last. He flicks on the light and tosses his keys onto the wobbly table next to the door.

"It's very... cozy," Hakkai says, blinking in the wan yellow light, expression wavering between amused and disgusted.

"Hey, don't judge. It's way better than the place I had in Singapore." It's true, too. At least this place has running water, and a bathroom, and lights. "Wasn't expecting company, so you'll have to deal with the mess."

Hakkai wrinkles his nose and shoves aside a few porno mags, enough to be able to perch nervously on the arm of the red velvet couch that takes up the whole middle of the room. The couch has seen better days-- there are a few burn-holes, and the velvet has mostly worn off in patches-- but Gojyo likes to think that it has personality.

"Do you travel a lot then, Gojyo?" Hakkai asks, after a long sort of pause.

"Me? Could say that. I don't like to stick around anyplace too long." He scratches his stomach through his tee-shirt. "Before this was Singapore, and before that was Shaghai. Been thinking of trying Europe, lately. I hear Amsterdam is pretty cool." He watches Hakkai pick at one of the burn-holes. "What about you? You don't look so much like the roving type."

"No?" Hakkai raises his eyebrows but doesn't look up. "I suppose not. I'm a-- Well, I was here on scholarship, studying art. I'm embarrassed to say that my scholarship ran out some time ago, along with my visa."

Gojyo bends to rummage through his mini-fridge, and emerges triumphant with his last two beers. "I had you figured for a student. Why stay, though? I mean, this city loses its charms faster than a roadside hooker at three a.m."

Hakkai snorts and accepts the beer Gojyo hands him. "You do have a way with words." He takes a long pull, and then stares at the label reflectively, eyes gone distant. "I guess I just had nothing to go back to," he says, quiet.

They both look away awkwardly then, and there's a long empty stretch filled only with the voice of the rain hammering against the roof.

"Gojyo," Hakkai says, after a time. His voice is almost startling.

"Uh. Yeah?" The room feels too warm suddenly, heavy and humid, and Gojyo wishes that the ceiling fan hadn't broken two months ago.

And then Hakkai looks up, and says, "Sleep with me." He doesn't sound like he's joking at all.

Gojyo swallows hard. "What? Hold on a sec, I told you I--"

"It doesn't matter. It would be good."

"Are you crazy? You don't know anything about me--"

Behind the dark-rimmed glasses, Hakkai's eyes are too serious. "I know that you're alone. Just like me."

It shouldn't make so much sense. It shouldn't sound so damned appealing. I've always been alone, Gojyo wants to say, but that sounds more like an argument for than against. He wets his lips, and his heart seems to be pounding in time with the rain. "I. I've never. With a guy," he says, lamely.

"Neither have I. Don't worry about it."

"But." Even Gojyo's mind seems to be stuttering. Hakkai is taking off his glasses, folding them up with precise clicks to set them down on the oversized trunk Gojyo uses as a coffeetable. When Hakkai starts on the buttons of his shirt, Gojyo's mind blanks.

When Hakkai slides over to kiss him, Gojyo lets it happen. He tastes of coffee and whiskey and, very distantly, mint. His shirt is still damp and clings to Hakkai's skin in places.

"Warm me up," Hakkai murmurs, against his lips.

It feels sort of like dreaming, and sort of like too real. The lamplight washes Hakkai in gold, and the rain outside rages jealously as they warm themselves in each other. Gojyo licks and bites and gropes, and when he shoves his hand down Hakkai's pants and Hakkai hisses in his ear, "Yesss, Gojyo," he thinks maybe it's the hottest thing he's heard in years. Or maybe in forever.

Gojyo comes first, laid out on the couch with Hakkai over him, watching him, thrusting against him. They haven't even managed to get their pants off. Gojyo shudders and moans and hates how good it feels, how much better it feels with Hakkai staring down at him, pinning him with those eyes.

Hakkai comes quickly after that, and he buries his face against Gojyo's neck as he gasps and shakes. Every breath carries the sound of Gojyo's name. Gojyo shuts his eyes and holds on.

They stay like that for a long time, even though the couch isn't comfortable and the mess is even less so. Gojyo runs hands up and down Hakkai's back, under the opened shirt, and stares up at the cracked plaster of his ceiling.

Hakkai brushes lips against his throat, his jaw, his ear.

"The rain has stopped," he finally whispers.

And apparently it has. There's nothing but the soft rustle of the calming wind as it catches at the palm trees and the heavy wet bushes outside.

Gojyo finds himself smiling, and he doesn't even know why. "I think the rainy season will be over soon," he says. Sleep is blurring the edges of things; the world feels soft-edged and heavy.

"I think you're right," Hakkai says, and it's the last thing Gojyo hears as he drifts off into sleep.

For the first time in months, all his dreams are peaceful.