"Ten years," Drake sighs, and rests the side of his head against Sanzo's shoulder, through the blanket. Just thinking about it makes him want to haul the blanket over them the rest of the way, curl up around Sanzo, and not move for a week.

He'll settle for putting his head on the priest's shoulder, for a variety of pretty obvious reasons. Practicality being a big one.

Ten years is a long time to miss somebody.