Warnings: Gojyo's mouth, passing mention of m/m sex.
Spoilers: Nothing much
Notes: written for smillaraaq, who wanted something on the theme "warmth" during today's snowstorm.
Summary: Hakkai uses philosophy on an overheated Gojyo.
Gojyo tugged harder at the knot in the bandanna around his head. It was sweat-soaked, and strands of his hair were sticking to his hot face despite it. More sweat was trickling down his bare chest and arms, stinging the scratches from the surprisingly aggressive rogue shrubs that Hakkai had asked him - very politely - to remove.
It was the kind of politeness that implied blandly healthy meals and a cold shoulder at bedtime if ignored. Although it was so fucking hot that a cold shoulder sounded almost good, and even the idea of a blow job wasn't terribly tempting. Fuck - have I got heat stroke or somethin'?
He tugged at the knot again. His head was starting to hurt. "Shit, shit, shit!"
"May I help you with that?"
He hadn't even heard Hakkai come out onto the porch. "Hell yeah."
Cool fingers pushed his sap-sticky ones out of the way, and a moment later, the pressure around Gojyo's head eased. Hakkai turned away for a moment, and when he turned back, he had a cold bottle of beer in his hand. "Here. Try not to drink it too fast - it will just make your head worse."
Gojyo hadn't mentioned his head. "Your goddamn weed things are gone. And it's too fucking hot."
Hakkai sat down beside him on the steps. There was a light sheen of sweat on his face, but otherwise he looked as cooly crisp as a spring morning. "It is warm. And yet it was only six months ago that you were complaining bitterly of the cold."
"But that was winter."
"Yes. A bad one, if I recall correctly. These very steps were so covered with snow that they appeared as a smooth slope. And when you went out to gather some kindling one evening and forgot your gloves, your hands were so cold that I was afraid you'd lose a couple of fingertips, and so chapped that they cracked and bled."
Gojyo turned his free hand over slowly. If you knew where to look, you could still see the faint line from the worst of those cracks. There was a fresh, bleeding scratch across it, but the tiny wound didn't look deep enough to scar.
"During the next snowstorm, Widow Liu's middle son froze to death coming back from town. And we were trapped in the house for five days, and were on the point of starting to burn the furniture when it finally let up enough for you to get to the woodpile."
"You strung a rope between the door and the tree next to the woodpile after that," said Gojyo, slowly.
"Yes, I did. And we were glad of it two weeks later, when it was so cold during the last snowstorm that strands of your hair froze to your lips in the brief time it took you to bring in more wood." Hakkai reached up and gently brushed the sweaty hair back from Gojyo's face. "Do you feel a bit cooler now?"
Gojyo stared at him disbelievingly for second and then laughed. "OK, yeah. I get it."
"I think a cool shower might help too," said Hakkai, standing and taking the empty bottle from him.
"All right. Can't make these scratches sting any worse, I guess."
"I'll put some ointment on them afterward." Hakkai was looking out at the yard.
"It looks much better. Thank you, Gojyo."
Gojyo stood up straighter and grinned like a sap. He couldn't help it. I'm so damn whipped. "Hey, don't mention it. I'm cool."