Aggravation

by scribblemoose

Sanzo glared at Gojyo across the table for an instant, then lowered his eyes.

It wasn't like it mattered. It wasn't like he needed to do anything about it.

Absolutely not.

He looked again, just to make sure, and sure enough, the smug, stupid grin was still there.

"You won't tell the others," he said. It wasn't a question.

The grin subsided a bit, and a hint of steel appeared in Gojyo's eyes. "Won't I?"

They stared at each other for a moment. Sanzo looked away first.

"Baka," said Gojyo. "What did you think I'd do, make an announcement?"

Sanzo shifted uncomfortably. His ass was still a little sore. So was his pride. And he really didn't want to have this conversation. "Fine," he said, shaking a cigarette out of his half empty pack. "Whatever."

Gojyo held out his lighter, but Sanzo pointedly ignored him and used his own. Gojyo grunted his exasperation and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. And there, just for a second, Sanzo got a glimpse of the Gojyo he'd seen the previous night, and was startled rigid by the fierce recollection of Gojyo arching under him as he'd come: the fine arc of his throat; the spread of crimson hair over white pillow; the grimace of ecstacy on his beautiful face.

Sanzo scraped his chair back and pushed to his feet. He had to get out. Away. Now. Before the others came back. Before he remembered anything else about last night.

"Sanzo-" Gojyo started, before he caught Sanzo's eye. Then his face hardened. "You're such a wanker."

Sanzo didn't dignify that with a response, and had turned to leave when a hand clamped about his wrist. He spun angrily, and found himself face to face with Gojyo.

"Don't do this."

"Don't touch me."

Gojyo didn't let go. "You can hate me all you want, but you can't hide from it. You can't come back from something like that and pretend nothing ever happened."

Sanzo held himself perfectly still. "Watch me."

He'd cried. He'd cried and he'd let Gojyo hold him, and he'd let Gojyo fuck him, and he'd wanted it, and nothing would ever be the same again. Gojyo's fingers were hot around his wrist, squeezing hard, but not quite hurting. He could feel the echo of his own pulse; his fingers were tingling.

"What the fuck do you take me for? You think I'd... fuck, Sanzo. You bastard."

"It didn't mean anything," said Sanzo, fervently wishing it hadn't. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, because there was a stab of hurt under the irritation on Gojyo's face, and he deserved better than that. It wasn't his fault. He'd just been fucking kind.

Too fucking kind.

The hold on his wrist went limp and Gojyo released him. He turned and headed for the stairs and their room, figured he would stay there until he heard Goku wake up. Then he could hide under the usual cacophony, and make damn sure that next night he roomed with the monkey. Surely by then it wouldn't hurt so much.

Except, Gojyo followed him, not just up the stairs, but all the way into the room. When Sanzo stood and bit his lip at the sight of the bed: all rumpled covers and pillows still bearing the imprint of their heads; the ashtray overflowing from their hours of close, whispered conversation, Gojyo's presence loomed behind him.

"We can't go back," said Gojyo, softly. "We have to find a way to move on, somehow."

Sanzo's heart pounded in his chest and his eyes fluttered shut as strong arms wound around him from behind, sneaking under his arms to fold over his belly. There was a quiet brush of lips at his neck.

"Please," Gojyo whispered.

Sanzo leaned back against him, and let it happen.

read reviews