Chapter Text
Tang grows up as a monk in a small town no one now would remember the name of. Being a monk is all he knows, training, learning of the gods and how to respect each one. It is simple work, honest work, and he wishes for nothing, wants for nothing.
That isn’t entirely true. Tang wants for knowledge, above all else. He spends ages in the library, when he can, and jumps at the opportunity for research. He craves information like an addict craves their drug and he drinks it all in on the daily.
It certainly isn’t becoming of a monk, to be so attached to worldly things when trying to reach nirvana, but Tang can’t find it in himself to care. Not when there’s so much to know, so much to learn. He supposes it relates to how he hasn’t shaved his head yet. Not quite ready to give up on all worldly things, knowledge and hair abound.
He supposes that’s what gets his peers looking down on him. Everyone else at the monastery is satisfied, happy with following the rules and staying right where they are. Tang wants to vanish into the open world in a way, to take in every sight and sound and book until he is filled to the brim with more knowledge than he could ever share.
But he can’t. So he settles. Settles for the simple life of a monk, settles for the teachings he’s allowed. He reads and rereads and memorizes, and settles.
But the world does not settle. It changes, constantly moving on its axis. So when Tang tries to plant his feet, the Earth moves him. It moves him into the path of someone he’d never thought he’d ever meet.
He is going to the stables to tend to the horses, when he hears a commotion. Suspicion has him reaching for the rake kept hanging on a nail by the entrance, and he holds it like a deadly weapon, outstretched in front of him.
“Hello?” he calls out, ever so slightly nervous.
There’s more shuffling sounds from the back and Tang takes a few steps forward. He peers in.
And comes face to face with a pig. Or a man.
He screams, then thrusts the rake forward, where it is caught deftly by a large hard that dwarfs Tang’s head. The figure stands, large and looming and a demon.
Tang’s breath catches in his throat.
Blue eyes glance at the rake, which is tugged out of Tang’s hands.
“Nice choice,” comes a voice that rumbles.
Tang blinks.
“Um,” he says, eloquently.
The demon laughs, a hand on his belly as he leans back. He wipes his eye with one claw and drops the rake on the ground.
“Sorry, I guess I should’ve expected a reply like that. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You mortals aren’t usually this pale, right?” The demon kneels down, tilting his head to the side to squint for a moment, before shrugging. “I’m Zhu Bajie. Kind of well known.”
Tang gapes. His jaw is on the floor for an embarrassing amount of time, and by the time he picks it up to speak, Bajie looks fit to burst into laughter again.
“Tang,” he responds. “I am a monk. At this monastery.”
“Well, I could’ve figured that out by the get up,” Bajie gestures to Tang’s attire.
Tang flushes a little, arms crossing over his chest in indignation. Bajie’s eyes crinkle with a smile full of mirth.
“Why are you here?” Tang asks, plainly. “I can’t imagine this is a nice place to stay for the night.”
At that, Bajie manages to look sheepish, reaching back to rub the back of his head in an awkward motion.
“Um,” he starts, then blushes a little. “You know the ladies in town. Real pretty.”
Tang rolls his eyes.
“I, uh, started asking around. Giving compliments. Seeing who’s available. A few of them took me up on my offers,” Bajie somehow looks proud of this.
Tang can only make a face.
“The whole of ‘em caught wind and chased me out. I figured I’d lay low for a bit, maybe try the next town,” Bajie shrugs, and then glances at Tang again.
Tang hunches his shoulders. “What?”
“You kind of look like a lady,” Bajie says, chuckling when Tang sputters in offense. “Your face is soft, you know? Same pointed chin, and you’re kind of pale, too, like when they put on the makeup.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Tang raises a brow, unable to hide the offense in his voice.
Baije smiles, tusks glinting in the moonlight that streaks through the cracks in the ceiling. He reaches up and cups Tang’s cheek, tenderly.
“It can be,” he rumbles.
Tang slaps him across the face.
Bajie takes it well, leaning back in surprise as Tang takes a step back. Tang squares his shoulders and juts his chin out, as if to look intimidating. As if he could look intimidating, when facing a demon of Bajie's size.
“Well, that’s familiar. You sure you’re not a lady?” Bajie manages a grin.
“Oh, shut up,” Tang huffs. “If you’re looking for another lady, go find one. You’ll likely have better luck on that front anyway.”
Bajie processes that statement, and then frowns.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growls.
Tang shivers, clenching his fists to keep his hands from shaking. Perhaps it isn’t the wisest idea to antagonize someone twice his size, but Tang is stubborn, steadfast, and woefully unable to back down in a battle of wits. Especially when he’s being harassed by a pig demon, of all things, about whether or not Tang could be bedded.
His cheeks burn red with indignation and embarrassment, and he takes in a deep breath to calm himself.
“You’ve certainly kept a very easy to track pattern,” he responds, shrugging. “I understand if you find men harder to win over.”
Bajie’s eyes glow. “I can get anyone I want.”
Tang takes another step back, terror mounting, but then he stupidly opens his mouth.
“You can’t get me,” he says.
Bajie blinks. Then, his eyes narrow.
“Is that a challenge?” he asks.
He stands, so that he looms, his shadow falling over Tang’s thin frame with ease. Tang’s palms are sweaty and his knees are shaking. This is stupid, he’s so stupid, Bajie is going to kill him—
“Are you taking it as one?” Tang finds himself replying, trying for a smirk.
Why the fuck did he do that?
Baije stares at Tang for one terrifying moment, before he lets out a huff through his snout, placing his hands on his hips and leaning back from Tang, chest out like a warrior’s stance.
“Alright,” Bajie “I accept your challenge.”
It takes Tang a moment to process that statement.
Oh.
Oh no.
“But,” Bajie keeps speaking, as if Tang isn’t having a crisis. “I’ll have you know that I am very charming.”
Tang sees his life flash before his eyes. This is it. He’s going to die of embarrassment. The gods must be laughing at him. They have to be. He just wanted to clean the stables. He was just trying to be a good monk. Now, he wasn’t doing very well at that, but the gods couldn’t say he wasn’t trying. Now the sun has set on that and his life. Who would have thought that his life would be cut so short so early?
Bajie waves his hand in front of Tang’s face, raising a brow.
“Hello? You in there?” Bajie laughs, again, at Tang’s expression. “You mortals are kind of slow on the uptake, huh?”
Tang flushes bright red, and nearly stomps his foot in frustration, coming back to the conversation with a sharp reply.
“Well, excuse me for not being so cavalier about all this. It’s not every day that a demon just appears and inserts themself into my life!” Tang throws up his hands.
Bajie considers this.
“Fair.” He shrugs.
Tang sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, as he tries to wrestle with the insanity of this night.
“Hey, you got someplace for me to sleep? I figured I’d stay here, but,” Bajie gestures to the general filth of the stable. “It’s not very clean.”
Tang sighs, again, and turns around, gesturing for Bajie to follow.
“C’mon,” he says. “I’ll take you to the sleeping quarters.”
The room he eventually settles on is an unused one at the temple, what used to be the infirmary before it was moved. He grabs a bedroll from one of the storage rooms and lays it on the ground for Bajie, who lumbers over to lay down on it.
“I...” Tang fidgets with his sleeves. “I will see you in the morning?”
Bajie blinks a few times.
“Where are you goin’?” he asks, patting the space next to him on the bedroll.
Tang flushes.
“I have my own bed,” he responds. “There’s no point in me staying, practically.”
“Practically,” Bajie repeats, with a raised brow. “Wouldn’t it be practical to make sure I don’t make a mess of things while you’re gone?”
“Are you going to make a mess of things while I’m gone?” Tang rebuffs.
Bajie smirks. Tang realizes he has fallen into a trap a few sentences too late.
“Maybe,” Bajie shrugs, nonchalant.
Tang sighs again , long suffering.
“Fine,” he mutters. “If you’re going to act like a child about it. But don’t try anything. I’m not afraid to slap you again.”
Tang shuffles closer to lay down besides him. Bajie has the decency to look offended at the comment, laying on his side, facing Tang.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Bajie looks almost angry at the insinuation. “I’m not—what kind of guy do you think I am?”
“The kind that flirts and...has his way with enough women that they chase him out of town,” Tang replies, simply.
Bajie, once again, seems thrown for a loop by Tang’s responses. He sighs, running a hand over his face, struggling to find the words.
Tang almost thinks it cute, in a way. A little mortal, making a demon twice his size (at least) speechless? Priceless.
“I didn’t do anything with them that they didn’t want, okay?” Bajie sighs, and Tang feels a little vindication at the sound. “I flirted around, sure, but when I get told to get out of town, I listen. I’m not-I’m not an asshole.”
Bajie actually sounds hurt, that Tang would think so little of him.
Tang feels a pang of guilt at the tone. As much as he’s frustrated with the situation, he doesn’t want to be so judgemental that he hurts those around him. He’s only known Bajie for a half an hour, after all. What does he truly know about him?
“I apologize for thinking so. I don’t have much experience with...demons. And you are a bit terrifying. You’re much larger than me. You could do anything you wanted with me,” Tang explains.
“Well...I’m not gonna. I’m gonna win this challenge fair and square, you hear? Goodnight,” Bajie turns to his other side, back facing Tang.
Tang stares up at the ceiling.
So. This is his life now.
Okay then.
The next morning he gets up early, both to grab some texts for reading and to make sure his guest doesn’t starve. Tang may hold no love for Bajie, but he is not cruel, and everyone needs to eat.
Their food sources are a bit scarce, if only because a lot of the monks are fasting at random intervals. There’s no need to keep that much food if most of it will go uneaten. Tang could never, he likes eating, thank you very much. He gets a couple bowls of rice, a pot of tea with two cups, some bean paste filled buns, and manages to bring it all back to the room without spilling. Much.
When Tang gets back, Bajie is stretching, though he stops when he sees Tang come in, eyes widening.
“Oh, great, I’m starving,” Bajie reaches forward, and Tang doesn’t get a chance to say anything before everything in his arms is taken away.
Bajie throws the bean buns into his mouth, one by one, and then goes in on the rice.
Tang pours himself a cup of tea, while Bajie finishes what was supposed to be their breakfast. You know, both of them. Bajie stops his messy eating, for a moment.
“You not gonna have anything?” He asks.
Tang takes a sip of his tea. It’s warm, and the ache in his stomach settles a little.
“I was, ” Tang says, casting a glance at the two bowls of rice, the three bean buns (two for Bajie, one for himself) that have made their way past Bajie’s teeth.
Bajie reaches a moment of understanding a second later. He ducks his head, embarrassed.
“Uh.”
There’s hardly anything left of the food, but Tang doesn’t mind. He supposes he can just start fasting, then. At the very least, he can maintain the appearance of a good monk through that.
“It’s fine.” He waves a hand, continuing to drink his tea.
Bajie quietly finishes his meal and stands, brushing himself off. He sets the bowls down gently once he’s done and looks around.
“So, uh.” Tang looks up to see Bajie fiddling with his claws, looking apprehensive. “What’s there to do around here?”
“I’m not sure what you’d expect as entertainment in a Buddhist monastery.” Tang raises a brow. “The activities of the day are reading and meditating. Cleaning, if need be.”
Bajie makes a face. “And you like that?”
“I like reading.” Tang shrugs. “It gets a little boring when there’s really only texts on one topic, but I manage.”
Bajie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He paces for a few minutes while Tang reads, then heads toward the door once he grows tired of that.
“I’m goin’ out,” he grunts. “Be back before nightfall.”
And then he disappears.
Tang blinks, for a few moments, then shrugs. He picks up the empty bowls and takes them to the communal sink to wash them out.
There’s a clatter beside him. Tang turns to see Bao, another monk, cleaning his own.
They each grab a clean cloth from the folded pile and dip them into the clean water, wiping away the crust of rice from the bowls. Bao glances down at Tang’s two bowls, and then up at him, raising his eyebrows with a smile that is cruel behind its mask of subtle questioning. Tang flinches, shoulders hiking up, and he turns away.
“Two bowls?” he hears from beside him. Bao’s voice is like water slowly brought up to a boil, seemingly innocuous and innocent before it burns.
“What of it?” Tang responds.
Bao shrugs.
“Gluttony isn’t very virtuous, is all,” Bao finishes cleaning his bowl, setting it aside as Tang flushes with indignation.
“Focus on your path to enlightenment, and I’ll focus on mine,” Tang says through gritted teeth.
Bao smiles, condescension dripping from his grin. Tang slams the bowls onto the drying rack with more force than necessary, practically stomping off to the library.
He takes a deep breath, then sighs in relief when the library air hits him, the smell of parchment and ink quite relaxing after dealing with Bajie and Bao. Ugh.
People are always a challenge to deal with, but books are an easy solace. He grabs about five. After promising that yes, he will take care of the texts, no, he will not get tea on them (one time and you’re branded for life!), and yes, he will bring them back the next day, he rushes back to his room.
Bajie has not returned, but Tang doesn’t care much. The quiet is nice. He spends the day on the bedroll that he folds into a seat. Stone isn’t exactly comfortable.
Buddhist texts are never boring, per se, but after spending his life reading about the same subject, he can get a little tired. He’s halfway through the second book when Bajie comes in through the window, so small that Tang can tell he’d be taller than the demon if he stood up, at the moment.
“What—” he starts, and then stops as Bajie grows, back to his normal height.
“You never seen a demon transform before?” Bajie teases before Tang can collect himself. “Walking around at eight feet kinda attracts attention.”
Bajie snorts, dropping what appears to be a lot of firewood.
Tang flushes in embarrassment, setting the book aside and standing.
“I don’t know how many demons you think I’ve met—”
“Oh, so I’m your first~?” Bajie winks.
Tang groans and drops his head into his hands.
“Anyway,” Bajie chuckles at Tang’s groans, and pulls out about...Tang counts five chickens, with wrung necks. He tries not to think about where Bajie got them. “Um, you got me breakfast, so I thought I’d make dinner?”
For once, Bajie almost looks shy, a near nervous smile gracing his features.
It’s an...almost endearing expression. Tang looks away, for a moment and then chuckles a little. Bajie tilts his head to the side in confusion.
“No, no, it’s sweet, I just,” Tang rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m a Buddhist. I don’t eat meat.”
He admits it with a shrug.
Bajie blinks a few times, glances down at the chicken, and then back up at Tang. His face turns a terrifying shade of red, and his expression twists into rage.
“ Motherfucker! ” Bajie shouts, throwing the chickens. They smack against the wall, and Bajie stomps around the room, shouting expletives and throwing his arms around. “What kind of a dumbass-I forgot-how could I—?!”
The more he rages, the more self deprecating it sounds—rather than mad—and it makes something in Tang’s chest twist painfully. He rushes over, reaching out.
“Hey!”
Tang doesn’t think about how a wrong swing from Bajie’s fists could lead to his death, or that Bajie could get mad at him. He just runs forward and grabs an arm, forcing Bajie to freeze.
Bajie looks down at him, wide eyed, and Tang laughs nervously.
“It’s fine,” he assures, despite the fact that he’s sweating. He just grabbed a demon, he just tried to stop a demon, what the hell— “I can’t eat them, but you can. I’ll just have the spring rolls they serve for dinner, and not have to worry about feeding you. It’s quite helpful. Really.”
Bajie continues to stare at him.
Tang continues to regret the fact that he has free will.
Then, Bajie sighs, shoulders drooping.
“Alright…I just thought...” Bajie mutters something under his breath that Tang doesn’t hear, frowning.
Tang takes a step back, letting go of Bajie’s arm, and he fidgets with his sleeves. That was...something.
“A-anyway, I have to go get dinner!” He stands up straight, and rushes out of the room.
God, that was embarrassing, and weird, and...somewhat nice? It’s so rare that someone would go out of their way to be nice to him, to do something nice for him, that maybe it was just a little much for him to process. That must be it.
He arrives and stands in line as they dole out the spring rolls. Behind him, though, he hears the telltale click of the tongue that spells trouble.
“After such a big breakfast, you’re coming back for more?” Bao’s voice curls into a sneer that Tang refuses to turn around to see. “I suppose it’s not surprising, considering.”
“Breakfast was hours ago. Excuse me for needing to eat to live.” Nevermind that Tang didn’t even get to eat breakfast.
He’s pretty sure hiding a demon in a monastery is against the rules, and he does not need another mark on his ledger. It’s practically black with how many he has, stained with slights because everything is his fault, everything he does is incorrect.
“I’m only trying to assist you, Tang,” Tang’s name in Bao’s voice sounds like sickly sweet poison.
Tang takes a deep breath, and does not imagine punching Bao so hard that that stupid smile loses teeth. He does not imagine it.
Vividly, anyway.
He grabs a couple of spring rolls and disappears into the halls, stomping back to Bajie’s room and resolutely sitting down on the bedroll-made seat. He shoves a spring roll into his mouth and grumbles incoherently on it, ignoring the confused looks from Bajie.
Who’s starring at him with a raised brow. He’s already set up a fire besides the window and has plucked the chickens clean. The feathers are piled in a corner of the room. A few pieces of wood have been sharpened into skewers. Bajie spears the chickens and holds them out over the fire to cook.
“You got into a mood quickly,” Bajie comments.
Tang lets out a huff.
“If Bao makes one more comment about how I’m not a proper monk, I’m going to kill him,” Tang says, and means it.
Bajie raises a brow at that, but his face falls easily into a grin, laughing a little.
“Hey, if you need help disposing a body, I’m always available,” Bajie tells him, turning the chickens to cook the other side. “But, uh, what’s your deal with this guy?”
“It’s not exactly just Bao,” Tang admits, face hot with shame. “Unfortunately, you’ve been taken in by the worst monk of this monastery.”
“How do you mean?” Bajie’s brow furrows in confusion
“I’ve never been anything less than a problem, here,” Tang sighs. “I wasn’t-I was raised here, and I’ve been doing the same thing since I can remember, but I don’t think I fit regardless. Everyone here is...satisfied with the practices we have, but I…”
He glances over at Bajie, and then back to his feet. “Nevermind. It’s not your concern. I just have to work harder and prove them wrong.”
“Sure,” Bajie says, pulling a chicken out of a fire.
He pulls off a leg and sticks it in his mouth, teeth tearing the meat from the bone in one fluid jerk.
Tang watches this with an odd fascination he cannot describe.
“If it were me, I’d say fuck ‘em,” Bajie continues, after swallowing his bite of food. “I mean, it sounds like they’re more concerned with lookin’ like good monks than being one, so...”
He trails off, then shrugs.
“Not everyone is as bad as Bao, but,” Tang didn’t expect to be defending the monastery. “They just—”
“They expect you to be one way even when you’re the other. That’s the problem,” Bajie interrupts. “This place is kind of like a big family, right? ‘Specially if you were raised here. Well, families might want you to be one way, but they don’t make you feel bad for being the other. You’re not hurtin’ anyone, they’re just being particular, and it’s hurting you. They should care more about that than if you’re a ‘perfect monk.’”
Throughout his rant, Bajie intersperses moments where he eats more meat, sometimes talking with his mouth full.
Tang stares, words sinking in but not sticking out over the surprise as Bajie heatedly rants, and tries to avoid the spittle.
“And hey,” Bajie looks over at him, and somehow manages to make blue eyes look warm. “I just met you, and I think you’re alright.”
Oh.
Tang stares, likely for too long, before looking away. Something warm and kind fills his chest. How rare is it that someone meets him and says something like that? He thinks the librarian likes him, because Tang always keeps the books he reads pristine (we don’t talk about the tea). There are plenty of people who don’t hate him, who are ambivalent of him, but to like him is a different story.
“Thanks,” he mutters, softer than he thought he would. He sees Bajie’s ears prick up. “Now, if only you could say that without spitting your dinner at me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth open!”
The next two weeks pass by with little incident and Tang ponders on how Bajie’s existence practically becomes normal by the end of it. Typically, he will get them breakfast and Bajie will disappear for the day, coming back with some sort of meat to cook for himself.
One afternoon, Tang interrupts it. “Hey.”
Bajie has set up a fire pit towards the edges of the room, a ring of rocks being its border, and he’s roasting some sort of beef over the flames. He turns to look over at Tang.
“Yeah?”
“How do you get any of this meat, anyway? I know you’re rather strong, considering your size, but I can’t imagine you just chase after chickens and cows all day.” Tang laughs a little at the mental image.
Bajie snorts, sticking the metal rod he’d fashioned in to a spit into a groove he’d made in the stone for it (Tang had balked at it when he’d seen it, considering making it had required breaking the floor, but he supposed it wasn’t as if the room was being used anyway) and standing.
“I can’t believe I forgot to show you,” Bajie says, and then raises a hand.
Tang watches as there’s a flash of blue light, and the sound of a crashing wave, and then a large, nine pointed rake sits in Bajie’s hand. The handle is thick enough that Bajie’s hand doesn’t dwarf it, and the prongs are the rake are sharp, and—
“Have you ever cleaned that?” Is the first thing that comes out of Tang’s mouth. “The prongs are filthy, just look at them!”
Bajie’s proud expression drops straight into confusion, but Tang’s mind is already whirring.
“I—”
“Give that here,” Tang walks over and tugs on the handle.
Then he comes to himself, realizing that if he even tried to carry the rake he’d likely be crushed under the weight of it.
Bajie seems to realize this too, an amused smile on his face.
“Err, well, set it down on the floor, I’ll be right back.” Tang rushes out of the room, grabbing a bucket from the closet, as well as some towels. He goes to the well and gets some water, and then carefully moves back towards Bajie’s room.
He can feel the stares from everyone around him as he moves. As someone with a reputation of being a bookworm, it’s rare to see him like this, and he bumps into one of the elder monks as he tries to focus on the task at hand.
“Tang,” The monk greets.
Tang flushes. “Sorry, I, uh, there’s a mess I need to clean up,” he hastily explains.
“Is it one you made?” A voice calls from behind him, another monk.
Tang can feel his ears burn with indignation, face flushed hot with rage.
“No,” he says, with a voice as level as it can be considering how mad he is. “I found a mess, and I saw fit to clean it myself, thank you very much.”
A hand rests on his shoulder.
“It is commendable to do as such,” the elder monk says, and the praise is music to Tang’s ears. “Continue.”
Tang bows, low with his back as straight as can be.
“Of course-I-thank you!” he rushes off, smiling to himself.
When he gets back, Bajie has set the rake on the floor, and Tang wastes no time kneeling down next to it. He dips the towel into the water and starts to scrub off the crusted over...something on the prongs.
“I don’t even want to know what any of this is,” he mutters.
Bajie laughs, from where he sits by the fire. He takes a bite of the now cooked beef and this time has the manners to swallow before speaking.
“If it makes you feel better, it’s mostly animal blood,” Bajie tells him.
“Mostly?” Tang asks weakly, trying not to imagine what else it could be.
Bajie chuckles, and does not elaborate.
Great.
He’s halfway done when Bajie reaches over and grabs the another rag, then starts on the prongs Tang hasn’t gotten to yet.
“Might as well clean my own weapon, huh?” Bajie smiles, and then fumbles a little with the rag.
“Here,” Tang shuffles over and directs Bajie’s larger hands taking Bajie through the motions. “You’re stronger than me, so you’ll be better at getting the crusty bits off of it.”
“Sure,” Bajie mutters, voice softer than Tang has ever heard it.
Tang moves back to his side, and the finish cleaning off the rake in relative silence, save for the crackling of the fire beside them.
It isn’t easy work. Tang dips the rag into the water bucket and scrubs, using his nails to try to get at the crusty bits. Bajie has a much easier time, claws scraping off whatever dried liquid or dirt has sealed itself against the steel. Eventually, they get into a rhythm where Bajie will scrape off the tough gunk, and Tang sweeps in after with the cloth, polishing off the metal until it’s sparkling.
When they’re finished, Tang leans back with a sigh, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I don’t typically do intensive cleaning like this,” he admits. “It’s a bit invigorating, though, wouldn’t you agree?”
Bajie shrugs.
“Not really invigorating for me. Not everyone is a twig,” Bajie glances over at Tang.
“Hey, not everyone can be a hulking beast! And I am not a twig,” Tang crosses his arms over his chest.
“Your clothes hang off of you.”
“They’re supposed to do that!”
“Sure,” Bajie chuckles. “But hey, if you wanna see what does ‘invigorate’ me,” he motions for air quotes with his hands, “I can show you with this,” He points to the rake.
“And ruin our hard work?” Tang teases, before relenting. “I think I can find the time tomorrow.”
Bajie grins. “It’s a date.”
Tang sputters, and doesn’t look Bajie in the eye the rest of the night.
The next day, Tang lets Bajie lead him out to a field. There are a few boulders sitting around, large enough that Bajie might have some trouble lifting them.
“What’s the demonstration for today, then?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.
Bajie smirks, and then jerks a thumb towards the boulders.
“Figure I might as well clear the field, huh?”
Bajie heaves his rake over his shoulder and raises it high. When he swings it down, Tang watches with wide eyes as the handle extends and the end widens, and it smashes into the rock. The prongs break through stone like a knife through hot butter, crumbling it into pieces as the rake sinks into the earth.
The aftershock has Tang stumbling, and he rights himself out of sheer force of will, turning his head to look at Bajie. Bajie has a wild look in his eyes, self satisfaction evident, and Tang wonders if Bajie is imagining something else as the rock. Someone else, even.
He shivers.
Bajie tugs the rake out of the ground with relative ease, and it shortens and thins back to its normal size when he sets it back on the ground, holding it up like one would a walking stick.
Tang’s mouth is wide open. He shuts it with a click, when Bajie looks over at him.
“That was…,” Tang struggles to find the words, and Bajie grins.
“ That was a workout!” Bajie places his free hand on his hip. “The trick is to look at the thing you wanna hit though the prongs before you swing. You get a feel on how large the rake has to be,” Bajie demonstrates, holding the rake out and squinting at another boulder through the prongs. “It took me a bit to get used to it. I’ll be even better at it in another few years. Just imagine where I’ll be in a hundred!”
“I’m excited to see it,” Tang replies, firmly ignoring the fact that he’ll likely be dead in a hundred years.
Bajie’s grin dims, as that knowledge hits him as well.
“Right,” Bajie mutters, before shaking his head a little and standing up tall. “Now, time to get rid of these rocks!”
Tang watches as each boulder is crushed and wonders how long this can last.
They head back inside for the night a few hours later, and Bajie passes out quickly, tired from the exercise. Tang is out a few moments later.
A week or so after that, Tang finds himself groaning into his hands, hunched over another Buddhist text.
Bajie is across the room, carving shapes into firewood with his claw. He raises an eyebrow at the sound. “What’s the problem? I thought you liked books.”
Tang sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“I swear, these books become more and more alike the more I read,” He groans into the text, curled over it. “Could I just once read something else?”
The second part is more muttered than said, but Bajie’s ears perk up anyway.
The day after that, he finds a stack of books by his bedside in the morning.
“Bajie,” he starts.
“Hm?” Bajie looks over with a self satisfied grin.
“Where did you get these?” Tang points to the books.
Suddenly, Bajie looks nervous.
“The, uh...library?” He replies.
“Did you check them out?” Tang asks.
“...maybe.”
“ Zhu Bajie did you steal books from a library— ”
“You said you wanted to read other things!” Bajie points an accusatory finger at Tang, shoulders hiking up in a defensive motion.
Tang sputters, raising a hand and running it through his hair as he glances down at the stack of books incedulously, before he looks back up with Bajie with wide eyes.
“I didn’t say to steal me books! Why would you even steal them?! It’s a library! You can check them out for free!”
“You try getting a library card to do that when you look like me!” Bajie retorts, gesturing to himself.
“You have a human disguise!” Tang argues back, hands on his hips.
At that, Bajie flushes a dusty rose color, looking away.
“Well, I mean, you’re not wrong,” Bajie mutters. “But, I, uh, it would’ve been awkward, if I’d showed up like that.”
Tang sits up, arms crossed over his chest. “How so?”
Bajie flushes a little deeper fiddling with his claws. Tang doesn’t relent in his stare.
“The librarian—she and I, well, you know,” Bajie gives Tang a sheepish grin, one that Tang doesn’t return.
“You slept with the librarian.”
Bajie somehow blushes deeper. Tang sighs.
“You are ridiculous.”
“Hey, you keep me around,” Bajie sits up with a laugh.
“I put up with you with the grace of Buddha,” Tang retorts, sitting down in front of the stack of books. “If I wasn’t such a good monk, I’d have kicked you out ages ago.”
“If you say so,” Bajie stands, stretching.
Tang glances at a few of the covers, a hand tracing the titles. They all seem interesting, a breath of fresh air in comparison to the consistent doldrum he’s been faced with for years. Something soft and warm settles in his chest as he imagines Bajie on a heist mission to get him something as simple as some new reading material.
“I appreciate this, though,” Tang turns with a smile, eyes shining with gratitude.
Bajie’s blush hadn’t gone away yet.
“Really, it’s a kind gesture. But,” Tang raises a hand. “You’re bringing them back when I’m done.”
“Alright,” Bajie agrees to those terms easily.
Tang’s eyes trace the curve of Bajie’s jaw when the demon smiles and finds it a very, very familiar sight. He blinks a few times, before getting up to get breakfast.
Somewhere between it all, Tang has to ask. “Why are you staying here?”
Bajie shifts, on his side of the bedroll, glancing down at Tang in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Surely you have better things to do than stay here,” Tang reiterates, gesturing around to the room, which has managed to stay quite empty still. “I mean, do demons like domesticity?”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the challenge,” Bajie argues.
Tang winces. He’d forgotten about the challenge, in the fun of it all.
“And, well,” Bajie shrugs. “Don’t sell yourself so short. It’s nice talkin’ to ya. I like knowing that I’ll see you when I come home.”
The conversation ends there, with Bajie turning over and falling asleep, but Tang stays up for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what that means.
Wondering what his feelings mean, too.
Another month passes, and Tang mentions the upcoming New Years’ celebration.
“You guys get to go to that stuff?” Bajie has a few fish roasting over the fire tonight.
“We aren’t recluses,” Tang insists. “Besides, why wouldn’t we celebrate? A new year is an auspicious occasion.”
“I regret gettin’ you that dictionary,” Bajie grumbles. “You spit words that would make any demon think you’re casting a spell.”
“You reap what you sow,” Tang replies, smiling. “Besides, you should come with! I know you have a human disguise and we could go out on the town! Look at the different vendors, find some food, maybe dance a little.”
“I don’t know….” Bajie trails off into uneasiness, and, well, isn’t that a change of pace.
Tang looks up from his book with a raised brow. He’s surprised that Bajie would be against such a prospect, especially with how outgoing the demon is.
“This seems like the occasion for you,” he comments. “And yet you don’t want to go? I understand you didn’t exactly ingratiate yourself with the townspeople, but no one is going to raise a fuss during the celebration.”
“Nah, it’s not that, I just…” Bajie mutters something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Idontknowhowtodance.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know how to dance, alright!” Bajie throws up his hands, huffing a little. “I mean, I did up in heaven, but it’s not as easy to figure out in a body like this, and it’s not on my top list of things to figure out! I didn’t have the time.”
Bajie works himself up then, drumming his claws on his knee, clearly irritated by the entirety of the conversation.
Tang sets his book aside, smiling to himself. Despite Bajie’s irritation, despite Bajie’s strength and size, he feels no fear as he stands, waving away Bajie’s worries as if they were nothing.
“Is that all?” He walks over to Bajie and holds out a hand. “If you didn’t have time before, you certainly have time now.”
Bajie stares down at the hand like he’s no idea what to do with it.
“I think it’d be best if you shrunk down to that smaller form you have,” Tang continues. “I’ll lead until you get the hang of it.”
Bajie stares, straight into Tang’s eyes, searching. Blue meets brown. Tang doesn’t move.
Slowly, Bajie shifts, smaller and smaller until his hulking form is made into something that only reaches up to Tang’s shoulders. The longer, fluffy tail is made curly, the tusks shrink, and his claws disappear.
He takes Tang’s hand.
“Okay,” Tang starts, softly, placing his other hand on Bajie’s shoulder. “Place your hand on my waist.”
Bajie flushes at that, but does as asked.
“I move one foot back, and you step forward with it. Rinse and repeat,” Tang explains, and then he moves.
Bajie is a clunky dancer. Every step is stiff and he only stares at his feet. Tang has them move around the room in a circle a few times, hoping to get Bajie used to the motions, but Bajie is resolutely sticking to his awkward steps, turning what should be something fun into more of a funeral march in terms of tone.
So, Tang unceremoniously picks up the pace, yanking Bajie forward and sending the now smaller demon stumbling as they twirl. Bajie’s eyes snap up to his.
“Hey—!”
“Loosen up!” Tang laughs, bright. “Dancing is supposed to be fun and free, not stiff like one of your katas. No one is going to care if you get the steps wrong. So quit staring at your feet and dance with me!”
Bajie looks up at him. Slowly, he grins, feet lighter as they twirl again and again, their tiny stone room practically transforms into a jade palace ballroom, where they’re the only dancers that matter in a sea of guests. The Gods glance at them with distaste, but they don’t care, stepping along to the music playing from somewhere only they can hear, laughing along to jokes only they understand. There are glares from all around, disapproval abound, but Tang for once doesn’t notice them at all.
Tang doesn’t focus on anything other than the bright blue of Bajie’s eyes and the curve of his smile.
And then they trip over a stack of books, and Tang tumbles awkwardly backward towards the ground, pulling Bajie down with him. Thankfully, their fall is softened by the bedroll, and when Tang opens his eyes, it's to see Bajie laying on top of him.
Bajie scrambles up, taking a stumbling step back, and Tang laughs.
“Maybe I’m not the best at leading,” he admits, and Bajie’s embarrassment morphs into something coy.
A very large hand reaches down and pulls Tang up off of the ground, as Bajie looms over him again. Tang is pulled flush, face staring straight into Bajie’s broad chest.
He looks up. Bajie’s eyes sparkle with mirth.
“Then how bout lettin’ me try it out?” Bajie teases, lips quirking upward.
Tang notes the flash of sharp teeth.
Oh , he thinks.
They dance.
A week or so after the new year begins, Bajie comes in with a bunch of supplies. Tang watches as Bajie brings in a pot, a cutting board, and a bag full of food. He pulls out vegetables, buckwheat noodles.
“What is this?” Tang asks, placing his book in his lap.
“Well,” Bajie starts. “I kind of fucked up the first time I tried to make you food, and, well, I only knew how to do the basics then,” He shrugs. “But I got bored sitting around here, so I kind of...got a job?”
Tang gapes. Sure, Bajie had been gone most of the day when Tang was reading or meditating or cleaning, but he’d never expected it was to go to work, of all things.
“Ladies can’t come after me if I’m hidden in a kitchen,” Bajie continues, as if to explain. “Plus, it was nice to learn to cook, and I got some money out of it. Figured I’d finally make you something.”
“You…,” Tang starts, something bright and wonderful rising from his chest and making him want to smile so hard it would hurt. “You are…”
“Yeah, yeah, ridiculous,” Bajie waves off.
“Incredible,” Tang corrects, a bit breathless. “You are incredibly, ridiculously incredible. How could heaven cast you aside? What did you even do?”
The question slips out before he can keep it in his mouth, and he sees Bajie flinch. Tang winces, looking away.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up, I just—you seem very kind. I don’t understand why someone would just…,” he trails off.
Bajie huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.
“Nah, I, uh, if you really wanna know, I,” Bajie fidgets with the cloth of the bag for a few moments. His eyes stare at anything but Tang. “I, uh, maybe flirted ‘nd messed around with a goddess or two. Pissed the wrong one off, and, uh…”
The story seems to end there, so Bajie shrugs. “Got kicked out.”
And Tang knows, remembers how Bajie was skipping town for messing around with the ladies, for being a general nuisance, that Bajie can be annoying enough to get kicked out of anywhere. But even so, as he imagines Bajie falling from heaven, imagines that pain, something hot and angry stirs inside him.
“Well, they were wrong,” he says, quickly, and then claps a hand over his mouth.
Bajie looks up at him, startled.
“I—uh, I mean,” Tang sputters, because he just said the gods were wrong , and if they were actually listening, then he’s dead. “In this case...specifically…I respectfully disagree with their decision. Clearly, they didn’t try and get to know you. The, uh, you I know, anyway.”
Bajie blinks a few times. Tang stares at his hands, and prays that if he ducks down deep enough into his collar it will hide his red cheeks.
“Thanks,” comes the quiet, gravelly sound of gratitude, where gruff becomes soft.
“I mean it,” Tang assures, looking up.
“I know. That’s why I appreciate it. You think I haven’t gotten a false compliment before?” Bajie chuckles. “You’ve never lied to me. Not when it counts.”
“I don’t plan to,” Tang affirms.
Bajie smiles, and goes back to getting the meal ready. Tang walks over.
“I ought to help make my own dinner,” he asserts, when Bajie looks over at him quizzically. “You can set up the fire, and I’ll cut the vegetables.”
“Do you even know how to cut them right?” Bajie teases.
“Of course I do!” Tang is quick to reply, but then Bajie hands him the knife, and Tang looks down at the cutting board. “But...just in case the restaurant you work at cuts them differently than the monastery, show me?”
Bajie bites back a laugh, holding Tang’s wrists between his forefinger and thumb, gently taking Tang through the motions. Bajie’s hands have calluses, skin rough that is made gentle against the backs of Tang’s. Sharp claws carefully placed to never come close to cutting cloth or skin. Tang tries to ignore how Bajie’s cheek is inches away from his own, the demon hunched down and carefully narrating the process. He tries to draw his gaze back to his hands, to what he’s supposed to be paying attention to, but his eyes keep wandering to Bajie’s face, the curve of his jaw, the blue of his half lidded eyes focused on the task.
He can feel Bajie’s breath against his collar. It’s warm.
“You got it?” Bajie asks, a few moments later.
Nope. Tang was so lost in thought he didn’t listen or pay attention in the slightest. He can feel the twinge of Bajie’s chest moving as he breathes.
“Of course!” he lies through his teeth.
When Bajie finishes setting up the fire and the broth and comes back to see the mangled mess of the veggies that Tang made, he laughs.
“I thought you didn’t lie to me!” Bajie cries out, jokingly.
Tang flushes crimson. “This doesn’t count!”
The soup is unfairly delicious. Tang eats two bowls, at the behest of Bajie. “You look like a twig. You outta eat more.”
Tang doesn’t even think to complain about it.
By the time he’s done eating, he lays back on the bedroll with a satisfied sigh. Bajie moves the pot off of the low fire, and helps the embers die out so they won’t burn down the place overnight.
“You should open up a shop,” Tang murmurs.
Bajie raises a brow at the idea. “A shop?”
“A restaurant. You could sell noodles like this. People would come from all over China, I tell you,” Lethargy has him blinking heavily. “Of course, I would have a spot reserved for myself every day.”
“Of course,” Bajie sounds like he’s smiling. Tang can’t exactly see his face with his eyes closed.
“We have to figure out a name. What do you think?”
“Hm. Bajie’s Noodles?”
“Do you really want people knowing your name that much?”
“True. I don’t know then.”
“Well, you’re half pig,” Tang’s eyes are closed. He lets out a sigh. “Piggy’s? No, that’s too juvenile.”
“You and your big words—”
“Pigsy’s,” Tang lands on, cracking open his eyes to glance over at Bajie with a smile. “You could call it Pigsy’s Noodles.”
Bajie picks Tang up by the waist with one hand and Tang blinks drowsily, limp in Bajie’s grip. A part of him is bewildered, but he’s too tired to make much fuss. It’s almost nice, even, to be held so easily, so casually. And if there was anyone he knows who he would trust to carry the whole of him, it’s the demon currently doing so.
He’s set down on the bedroll vertically so there’s plenty of room for Bajie, who shuffles next to him as usual.
“Don’t go telling anyone else that name,” Bajie mutters. “It’s a keeper. Someone else might try and steal it.”
“Like anyone could take something from you,” Tang replies.
There’s a rumbling purr coming from the demon beside him, comforting and familiar, now. The sound lulls him to sleep.
In the end, it isn’t anything specific. There is no sweeping romantic gesture Tang falls for, no dinner date, no hesitant touches that fall into something more.
Tang falls slowly. Maybe he’s been falling since he met Bajie, but he comes back to their room fuming because Bao made a comment about how his robes are looking tighter on him, about how Tang hasn’t been going to as many group meditation sessions. He stomps his way to the doorway, and stops.
Bajie is making noodles for him, again, focused solely on the pot and the bubbling broth within. He stirs with a spoon, scoops up a little to taste. Tang watches him tilt his head to the side in thought, deliberating, before adding a pinch of spice. He notices Tang standing in the doorway.
“Oh, hey Tang,” Bajie waves. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
And Tang thinks
Oh.
He wants this. He wants this room, their room, and he wants to come back to this space that is theirs every day and see Bajie every day. He wants this, right where he is.
His feet are moving before he registers the motion. He rushes across the room and he nearly slams into Bajie.
“You are ridiculous,” he blurts out. “You’re ridiculous, and compassionate, and wonderful, and I don’t understand how you can even stand me, most days, but it’s so nice to talk to you, and you’re so—” He struggles for the word. “You’re incomprehensible in the best ways and I just-I-,”
“Uh,” Bajie says, blue eyes wide. “You know, I thought it was the big words that made you hard to get, but the small ones are not really making sense either—”
And Tang kisses him.
It’s messy, and Tang feels the pressure of sharp teeth against his lip.
The moment is fast. But slow. And perhaps that’s always how it’s been.
When he pulls away, Bajie stares at him.
“Shit, I-uh—” Bajie reaches forward and wipes something from Tang’s lip. “I kind of nicked ya.”
Tang licks his upper lip and tastes a bit of blood.
“Oh,” he says. “I-uh-that’s okay. I didn’t give you any warning.”
His face gets redder and redder.
“I-I understand if this isn’t-perhaps I should have phrased it better,” he fumbles through his words now. “You-you’re a demon, and I’m a mortal, so it would be hard, but I-I really think-you make me happy. Happier than I’ve ever remembered being, so...I want to try.”
Bajie looks at him like Tang has given him the earth itself, has set it in Bajie’s lap. There’s a grin growing on Bajie’s face, wider and wider.
“You make me happy too, you know,” Bajie tells him, and he cups Tang’s cheek in his large palm.
Tang remembers the last time such a thing occurred and bites back a laugh at the memory.
“And maybe I’ve already been trying,” Bajie continues. “You think I’d learn to make meals without meat for just anyone?”
Tang does laugh, then, and Bajie’s arms enfold him, and Tang enjoys the feeling, the swell of elation that consumes him entirely.
That night, Bajie’s arm rests across Tang’s chest like a barrier, protecting him from the world. Dinner was a bit awkward, and they’ve been dancing around each other because what does this mean?
“What...what changes, now?” Tang asks, glancing up at Bajie.
“I don’t think, that, uh...that much has to? We make each other food, we hang out all day, we talk to each other a lot. Isn’t that what couples do?” Bajie chuckles. “I guess that the only difference is that I get to kiss you.”
Tang’s face turns a lovely shade of crimson, and he covers his cheeks with his hands to the sound of Bajie’s laughter.
“Shut up,” He mutters, without any heat.
Bajie’s grin is sly.
“Make me.”
Tang does.