Two men, one blanket. Cliche at its best. Sanzo/Gojyo- warning for gunkink.
In the end, he settled for a light dose of snickering while rubbing the back of his head in thought.
"What the hell is so funny?" a gruff voice asked from behind him.
"Oh, you know. Life."
There was an irritated snort then Gojyo found himself being pushed aside rather rudely by one royally pissed off monk. "If it's that funny you can stay outside and freeze." Sanzo eyed the single room with distaste. "At least then it would be quiet."
It was Gojyo's turn to snort. "Yeah, but the scenery would suck." He wandered into the middle of the small room, giving it a once over. Nothing remarkable. Some hay in a corner, a worn out mattress, an old trunk wedged into another corner. "Hey, Sanzo. You think there's anything useful in there?"
The monk gave him a look that indicated Gojyo should stop using up all the valuable oxygen in the room by talking and just open the damn thing. It amazed the redhead that the blond could say all that with one glance.
The half-demon made a 'tch' sound and wandered over to the trunk, kneeling in front of it to examine the latch. He heard Sanzo light a cigarette behind him and itched to make a grab for the carton tucked away in his pocket.
But no. He was going to ration his smokes for once. He didn't know how long they would be stuck in the equivalent of a glorified box but he the idea of running out of cigarettes before they left made his hand still on its journey towards his carton. Strangely enough, or maybe not, the rational voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Hakkai.
Speaking of which...
"So where do you think Hakkai and the ape ended up?" he asked, as he picked at the trunk's lock. No luck there. He stood and tilted his head to the side in thought.
"How should I know." Somehow, it didn't sound like a question. "Hakkai probably found them a cave to wait out the storm in and Goku can smell anything edible within a three mile radius. Now stop asking stupid questions and open the damn trunk." There was a rustling sound as Sanzo claimed the mattress.
"You know, Sanzo-/sama/, a stupider man would think you didn't like me."
"And a complete idiot would think I did," Sanzo tossed back at him. There was an unspoken "Guess which one you are" and again Gojyo wondered how the monk did that.
"Heh. You wound me." Then the half-demon gave up on opening the lock with finesse and simply kicked the thing. There was a crack and an audible /thud/, and Gojyo couldn't stop the triumphant grin from spreading onto his face.
He heard Sanzo mutter "Idiot" from his cozy corner but ignored it, instead rummaging through the contents of the truck. Bag of some sort of dried food, a pot, a broken chopstick (how useful), lamp oil, and a blanket.
Gojyo wondered if he could somehow horde the blanket for himself, hide it away until the monk fell asleep.
"Don't even think about it, kappa. I can see the blanket from here."
Shit, he thought, and turned his head to stare at Sanzo. "Well, shit." He tugged the blanket out, coughed a bit at the musty, aged smell that wafted off of it, and made the three step journey to Sanzo. "There's only one blanket."
Sanzo stood, so that they were eye to nose. "Amazing. You can count." He grabbed onto the blanket and pulled. Pulled again. Glared up at red eyes. "Let go."
Red eyes smirked back. "No."
"Now, unless you have a death wish."
Gojyo said nothing, just smirked and widened his stance.
Violet eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room dropped even more. "Do you want a matching set of scars on your other cheek?" he snarled, tugging with more fervor.
Like a switch was turned off, Gojyo dropped the smirk and sneered. "What's the matter, monk? Can't handle the cold? Want me to tuck you in too?" Oh dear, did he just touch a nerve?
The next few moments passed in a complete blur. There was a struggle, some snarling, a minor tug-of-war, another struggle. Then an odd feeling of vertigo as up became down and left became right. Gojyo blinked in surprise when he found himself face down on the mattress, arms bound to his side by something course and musty, with a Sanzo sitting on top of him and something cold pressed against his face.
He dully noted that he was still clinging to the blanket and applauded his own determination.
"Let go," was hissed into his ear. That cold something pressed a bit harder. Sanzo's gun, Gojyo finally figured out, and turned his head slightly till he only saw steel and red. He did what he normally did in these situations.
He ran his tongue along the barrel of the gun, stopping just short of the pale hand that held it.
The half-demon felt the blond stiffen and unconsciously lean closer, and smirked. "You ever notice that this is generally how all of our fights turn out?"
"With you under me, begging for mercy? Yes," Sanzo said as he trailed the gun up the redhead's face then back towards his mouth. He shifted again and flipped Gojyo onto his back, twisting the blanket more. It didn't matter. It didn't cover anything important anyway.
Gojyo raised an eyebrow. "You're a smug bastard," he stated. "And kinky."
"Got a problem with it?" The tone implied that it didn't matter either way. And it didn't.
"Not really, no."
The gun hovered. "Then suck."
"The romance is truly dead."
The next morning, as two figures stared at the rickety old hut, Hakkai knew well enough to knock first.