Beginnings: Discovery

from the Wayside series
by scribblemoose

People don't believe me when I tell them I hit on Sanzo the first time we met, seeing as how I'm alive to tell the tale and all.

But I did.

I could tell you a thing or two about Sanzo as it happens, most of which would probably make you weak at the knees for one reason or another. But he made me promise not to, so all I can tell you is how I came to be so reckless as to try my chances with the monk and his not-so-holy armaments in the first place.

It's all Hakkai's fault, of course.

But let's start at the beginning.

I had a pointless sort of existence, back then. I'd made a place for myself in this little town in the middle of nowhere-much. I made a living out of cards, spent my nights with pretty women and my days hungover. I knew with certainty that I was absolutely straight; oh yes, it was women all the way for Sha Gojyo. I made friends easily enough; I've always gotten along with people. Never let anyone get too close, though.

Hakkai says that before you can love someone else, you have to learn to love yourself. I guess he's right about that.

Anyway, I was fair-to-middling miserable, that night when I fell over Hakkai in the woods. Some girl had made a comment about my hair, probably thinking it was a compliment. Fair enough, now I think on it. But at the time I didn't think. I just felt, and I wasn't really into feeling back then. It hurt. It was all raw and real, rejection and fear so vivid I could still taste the blood running down my cheek.

So I gave up for the night, took my winnings and headed for whatever the damp night air might bring.

It brought me a half-dead youkai with his guts hanging out all over the ground.

I remind Hakkai sometimes I've seen bits of him he hasn't seen himself. That I know him inside-out.

He doesn't seem to find it funny, for some reason.

Anyway, there he was, and there I was, and I couldn't very well leave him there to die. I took him home, got him fixed up. Didn't think twice about it, really. Of course, it meant I didn't get out to card games much, but I had a bit of money stashed away here and there, and I didn't miss the company as much as I'd thought I might. This guy was good to be around, once he got well enough to talk and beat me mercilessly at any kind of game you care to mention. There was no pressure, no worry, no wondering what would happen at the end of the night. Just cards and conversation and then we'd go to sleep. Simple.

At first.

I let him have the bed - seeing as how he was still recovering and all - and I slept on the old couch. It was lumpy and had springs that hurt like fuck, but I got used to it. He was quiet as a mouse usually, never kept me awake - not like Goku with his fucking snoring. Except for this one night. He woke up screaming her name, over and over, Kanan, Kanan, Kanan, like he was being stabbed to death. I don't remember getting up; I was on the bed and holding him before I could even think. It was that kind of yell, the sort that goes straight for your heart and claws at it, twists it until you just want to make the person's pain go away.

He woke up properly then, and clung to me, and cried a river all over me. I was still half asleep, I think, or maybe it was reflex, because only girls had cried on me like that before; whatever the some reason, I started to kiss him. Kissed his hair, his neck, held him tight for comfort. Didn't think much of it, at first. But then his arms slid around my neck and he made this little whimpering noise, and my heart was beating so hard I thought my ribs would break. I pulled back in slow motion, still kissing, I couldn't stop kissing, across his face until I found his mouth, and he found mine, still kissing, feverish and desperate, like nothing I'd ever felt before.

It wasn't at all like kissing a woman. He didn't melt into my arms or let me take the lead. His hands were in my hair, and his tongue came into my mouth first, exploring and flicking at my teeth, his nose rubbing soft against my cheek. He smelt good, in a way a man has no right to, and his body felt good, pressing against mine, and I didn't care about anything. I wanted him, wanted him with an ache deep in my belly, fierce and hot and overpowering.

I didn't even know what wanting him meant, back then. I had a vague sort of idea of what guys did together - those sorts of guys, of which I was certain I wasn't one - and it always sounded painful and kinda weird. But he didn't give me much time to worry about it. Before I knew it his hand was sliding inside the boxers which were the only thing between me and nudity. He was shaking all over, making these odd little whimpering noises, like he needed me, like he'd die if he couldn't have me. My lips were numb with kissing and by the time his fingers found me I was about ready to do anything to satisfy the itch. I had some vague notion of returning the favour and reached under the covers. He was naked. Stark bollock naked. I was shocked at first. Slowly I remembered I already knew that; we'd talked about it, how he hated clothes next to his skin when he slept, and after all, I'd seen it all before, nursing him back to something like health. So I took a deep breath and reached out to touch his cock. It felt different from mine; not particularly longer or thicker but different. It was warm and hard, and the skin so soft, and it jerked at my touch, eager. Friendly.

He whispered my name, his lips brushing against my ear, he told me he wanted to make love to me.

I didn't know men called it that. Making love was women to me; if men were doing it I would've called it fucking. But Hakkai's never really been about the fucking. It's always making love, with him. Still is.

I was scared. I wouldn't have let him know it in a million years, although he probably guessed. But I was terrified. I was used to knowing what I was doing between the sheets, and here I had a feeling he knew far more than me.

I found out later that wasn't strictly true, but never mind.

I needn't have worried. He was kind, of course, and patient and shook in my arms. We made love. Gently, because his wound hadn't healed yet; just stroking and licking and rubbing and panting and kissing and kissing and kissing, and by the time we'd done, and I'd come a sticky mess all over his newly-forming scar, and he'd given me my first taste of essence-of-man, I was a convert.

I spent the next two days worrying that I'd turned gay.

But he put me straight on that, just like he did on so many things. You didn't have to be one thing, he explained. Rules tied you down and drove people apart. You could love anyone. Youkai, human, man, woman, friend, sister. Anyone.

A whole new world opened up to me. I'd never noticed men before, but now... everywhere I looked were new tempations, new possibilities. He never got jealous, Hakkai's never been like that, he knows how much I love him. Besides, he had his own problems at the time.

So this is where we meet Sanzo. I was worried for Hakkai, although I didn't know his name back then. He was careful not to tell me, even when we were naked and sticky together. I could see him hurting. I knew he had to leave, and I was terrified that if he did he wouldn't come back. So terrified I pretended not to care. He felt so right in my bed and my life, like I'd always known him. And I'd learned something important and exciting about myself, that I'd never have imagined.

Into this brave new world came Sanzo, with hair like yellow silk and a face like an angel. Beautiful, and mean, and dangerous. I was in love. I had to have him. So I hit on him.

I wasn't to know he was a trigger-happy control freak with the temper of a wounded cat. I learned that the hard way. But I didn't care. Wether I could have Sanzo or not, I'd found out who I was. I'd found out who I belonged with. I never looked back.

So, you see, like so many things, it's all Hakkai's fault.

And one day, I'll find a way to thank him.

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