-----
Part 1
Page 2
Dokugakuji had indeed been doing paperwork and making
phone calls. Though he stopped with both when Kougaiji entered their hotel
suite, dirty and reeking of downtown.
There was no "are you okay?" Five hundred years
had eliminated superfluous dialogue like that. It went straight into the
"What happened?"
"Ran in with someone," the king explained, unbuttoning
the dirty suit jacket. "Reincarnates."
"Again?" his lover said with a hint of annoyance,
as he undid Kougaiji's necktie. "Who was it this time?"
He didn't get a verbal answer, at least not with
so many words. He ended up having to make due interpreting a few unwilling
hand gestures and some half-eaten mumbling.
"No," Dokugakuji said flatly, upon deciphering this.
"You're serious?"
"Pretty certain," Kougaiji confirmed, and then made
a little grateful sound at having the tie undone for him, so he could land
wordlessly on the sofa, pulling off the jacket and then the shoes as though
they'd suddenly acquired some sort of disease. He rather envied Dokugakuji's
ability to go around in robes and claim that it was "ceremonial" or "ethnic."
The king would have loved to show up to a meeting in his preferred attire.
He started on unbuttoning his shirt, after making a quick check to be sure
none of their secretaries were lurking around the place.
"And... well?" Dokugakuji persisted, when Kougaiji
didn't follow up with more. "What'd you find out?"
"Just about nothing. At all. I can't even say if
it's really them yet, but I want to see." He shifted over to allow his
partner to seat himself beside him on the couch. "He... didn't remember
me, I don't think."
"You couldn't have expected him to. The ones that
remember are usually a fluke. And don't live long."
"I know."
"How old were these?"
"I'm guessing around twelve, thirteen. Sanzo had
to be very young. He sounded like a girl." He paused, going back over the
words. "...Unless..."
"Oh, fate is cruel," Dokugakuji said with a smirk.
"No, it was a boy," the king insisted. "He didn't
look like a girl at all."
"Well, boy or girl, by the sound of your voice it
seems like he's doing fine, so don't worry about it so much," his partner
encouraged, leaning close to nuzzle an ear. Then sniffed and backed up.
"Better shower. Don't want to show up for dinner smelling like a gutter."
Kougaiji made a noise like a growl in the back of
his throat. "I'm not going to that dinner."
"For the good of commerce," he was reminded.
"I'm so sick of that word."
"Just order something expensive and let the premier
eat it, if you're that hard up. We'll hold hands beneath the table and
I can molest you with my foot when he's not looking," Dokugakuji suggested,
as if he were making a border trade proposal, which was actually what he
had been writing prior to Kougaiji's arrival.
"Mmph. Fine," the king said, relenting. "Just don't
knock the table over like last time. And I hope you realize it's getting
taken out in trade when we get back tonight," he added, turning his head
while Dokugakuji brushed his white hairs back into place, caught one of
those fingers and kissed it gently. It wasn't so much with the intent for
affection as it was offhandedly performing a habitual reaction, like scratching
an itch one or the other might've had. But appreciated just the same.
"That," Dokugakuji said, submitting to this bout
of finger nibbling and even leaning back in despite the city smell, "I'm
perfectly content with. Just let me call Sushma in to tidy up the Honda
papers. And your schedule's clear tomorrow; did you want to stay in or
go out somewhere?"
"Mmn," Kougaiji murmured, letting go of his lover's
fingers for a moment. "The south hutongs."
Dokugakuji chuckled. "Very scenic. That's an odd
choice. Have you ever been to the hutongs?"
"No. Is there a map?"
"You're kidding, right?"
-----