InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing with Scissors ❯ Dinner Party ( Chapter 12 )

As Sesshoumaru walked to the guest house for dinner, the exotic aromas of garlic and ginger, cardamom and cumin grew stronger, instantly transporting him to the Chandni Chowk Bazaar he visited when in Delhi on a business trip two years earlier. It always amazed him how closely one's sense of smell was tied to memory. The scent of Arpege, his mother's favored perfume, always brought up visions of her wearing chiffon and pearls, kissing him goodbye before she and his father left for a New Year's Eve gala the year he was eight. And the smell of mothballs, reminding him of packing a long-stored suitcase before being sent to boarding school, never failed to sicken him.

 

His knock produced a shriek from Kagome, followed by a hastily thrown open door. Rin rushed forward and attached herself to his leg, while the Wolfhound nudged his hand until the backs of ears were adequately scratched.

 

Kagome swooped in for the rescue. “Off!” she commanded. Oberon, good dog that he was, retreated back to the huge knuckle bone with which he had been busy, and Kagome tapped Rin on the head. “You too. Off.”

 

Rin didn't relinquish the leg, but instead looked up at him and grinned, revealing a fat lip and a new gap in her front teeth.

 

“Look at you,” Sesshoumaru observed. “Another tooth gone.”

 

“Obi and me were playing, and we bumped heads. My tooth came out and my mouth bleeded a lot, but I hardly cried at all.”

 

Kagome smiled. “Very brave. Actually she's lucky she didn't swallow it. Between the lip and the tooth, blood…everywhere,” she shuddered. “Too bad it isn't closer to Halloween; you could go as a hockey player. Now let the man in!”

 

Rin reluctantly extricated herself, and Sesshoumaru handed Kagome a bottle of wine.

 

She examined it gratefully, saying, “Ooo, Cakebread Cellars Cabernet. We'll have this with dinner; it's way better than what I was planning to serve.” She stood on tiptoes and lightly kissed his cheek. “Thank you! Welcome! I'm so glad you could come.”

 

“So am I,” he stated after a moment's hesitation. Having the reputation as the most eligible bachelor in the city, he was used to the fawning, hanging attention of women. The sheer number of gold diggers and their complete shameless obviousness disgusted him, but the honesty in Kagome's warm brown eyes was different. “My parents send their thanks for the offer, but they have a prior engagement.”

 

“Yeah, your mom stopped by this afternoon. Another time, I hope. Is it really seven?” she asked with alarm, coming to her senses.

 

“Nearly,” he answered.

 

“Miroku and Sango make a religious practice of punctuality,” she said, untying the long white apron from around her waist, showing a great deal of shapely leg under a short skirt. “I need to change. Be right back. Rin, entertain our guest.”

 

She sprinted down the hallway, and Rin took her uncle's hand and led him to the coffee table in the living room.

 

“Wanna see my pictures?”

 

There was a rainbow of colored pencils scattered around a vast expanse of drawings. Most of them depicted three figures, two dark haired and one light, all with smiling suns and flowers surrounding.

 

“This one and this one is me and Mommy and Daddy. This one is me and Grandmother and Grandfather. This one and this one is me and Kagome and you,” she explained, presenting several of them one at a time. The last two portrayed the smaller of the two black-headed figures with visible holes in a smile.

 

He was almost at a loss for words. “Rin, they are lovely. And so are you.”

 

The child blushed prettily. “Thank you,” she said, politely as her mother had taught. “Kagome was nervous today about dinner. She wants you to like us. I told her you already do, but she said you think she's annoying.” She studied him and smiled, convinced of her initial perceptions. “Kagome's a good cook. She likes spicy stuff, but today she promised not to make it too hot. Dal is my favorite. It looks like throw-up, but it's yummy.”

 

Kagome breezed back into the room, clad in a rose-colored dress covered with intricate silver embroidery that stopped above her knees and clung invitingly. “Fastest clothing change ever.” She observed the pictures that held their attention. “Rin is quite the budding little artist. Her use of color tells a wonderful story.”

 

Sesshoumaru smoothed the cowlick that refused to be tamed. “Cute and talented. Perhaps I could take one or two of them to your grandparents. I'm sure they'd be happy to see.”

 

Rin picked out a few pictures and handed them over. “Do you want one too,” she asked shyly.

 

“I'd love one, thank you.” He crouched down next to the girl as she sorted through her drawings, enchanted by the innocent sweetness in eyes so like his own.

 

Kagome watched them. Sesshoumaru projected a calm strength and confidence that she was sure Rin sensed and found reassuring, but he also seemed genuinely taken with her. She sighed wistfully and fought tears, knowing how easily Rin was embarrassed by her happy crying. There was a well-timed knock at the door. “That'll be Miroku and Sango.”

 

She let them in, hugs and kisses exchanged, dog petted.

 

“Happy housewarming, dear,” Miroku said affectionately, giving her a bottle with a large red bow tied around the neck. “For you.”

 

“Ooo bubbly,” she purred, recognizing the gold Krug label. “But Miroku, don't you remember what happened the last time I drank champagne?”

 

He snickered. “I remember what happened the last time you drank an entire bottle of champagne by yourself…I was hoping you'd share this.”

 

“Me? Share?” she asked innocently, batting her eyes.

 

“Kagome, it smells divine! And this place looks wonderful!” Sango exclaimed, marveling at the open floor plan of the living and dining areas and kitchen. “I can't believe you've only been living here a little over a week. We had boxes everywhere a month after we'd moved.”

 

“Yeah…with as much chaos as I tend to surround myself, I needed at least one thing to be finished and a source of serenity. How about a tour?”

 

“Sango! Miroku!” Rin screamed, running at them. “Come see my bedroom!” She grabbed their hands and pulled.

 

Kagome realized something. “Wait a second, tiger. Sesshoumaru, you remember Sango I'm sure, but I don't think you've ever been introduced to her husband, Miroku Takeda.”

 

“Inuyasha spoke of you as a good friend; it's nice to meet you.” The two men shook hands.

 

“Good to meet you as well,” Miroku replied. “I saw you at their wedding and their funeral, and of course the restaurant,” shooting Kagome a mildly accusatory glare, “but we'd not been introduced. I'm glad I'll have someone to converse with about something other than shoes.”

 

Sango looked down at the strappy Mary Jane-style clogs on Kagome's feet. “New shoes! Baby, those are gross, they're so tasty. Dansko?”

 

“Yeah, aren't they hotness. Sensible and stylish.”

 

“See what I mean,” Miroku sighed. “I bet between the two of them there are at least five hundred shoes, four hundred fifty of which are black.”

 

Sango and Kagome looked at him with pity. “One can never have too many black shoes,” they retorted simultaneously.

 

“Come on!” Rin whined. Shoes typically interested her as much as they did Miroku.

 

“Wanna see the damage?” Kagome playfully asked Sesshoumaru. “I don't think you've witnessed what I did to your guest house.”

 

Rin and Kagome led their visitors through bedrooms, studio, bathroom, and sunroom, to appreciative comments about the displayed art and general lived-in feel. Sesshoumaru was taken aback that a building which had been so lifeless was now vibrant and welcoming. Kagome's eclectic taste in décor and furnishings, reflecting her artistic background, impressed him, and he wondered why his mother paid her decorator tens of thousands of dollars to do what Kagome had apparently achieved so effortlessly.

 

“Kagome,” Sango enthused as they entered the kitchen, “it looks fabulous! And this is like your dream kitchen. I'm so happy everything worked out.”

 

“Me too,” she said, smiling at Sesshoumaru. “Well, I've got a couple more things I need to do, but everything is timed to be ready at seven thirty.” She put the champagne in the wine refrigerator and took out a different bottle. “Would anyone like a glass of Chardonnay?” She took out stemware and began to pour.

 

“I'll pass, since I'm driving,” Miroku said before she poured a fourth, then knelt in front of Rin. “Rin Rin, what happened to your face?”

 

The girl smiled proudly, showing off empty spaces.

 

“Kagome, your niece seems to have some kind of…mysterious tooth-losing disease.”

 

Rin giggled. “You're silly, Miroku. Come see the new toys my grandfather got me! You come too!” she ordered, looking at Sesshoumaru.

 

The men smiled indulgently at the child and followed in obedience, leaving Kagome and Sango alone.

 

“What should I do to help?” Sango inquired.

 

“Um…keep me company? I've got everything prepped; I just need to get the green beans going.” She took a skillet from the hanging pot rack and spooned ghee into it and turned the heat on the stove.

 

“So how you holding up, honey?” Sango knew Kagome probably was due for a long talk.

 

She sighed. “I'm okay. Single parenting has not shredded my sanity, though the real test will come on Monday; Rin is done with her preschool summer program, so no more long break in the middle of the day. I may need to get sloppy drunk at this point next week.”

 

Sango giggled wickedly. “I think that can be arranged. We can go dancing at that new club downtown. I bet Jak would even stay sober and drive for the promise of seeing you cut loose.”

 

“God that sounds like heaven. It's been ages since I let my hair down.” She adjusted the heat and took a sip of wine. “The Taishos have been great though. Rin's bedroom in their house will be ready in a couple days, so we'll probably do a test run of her sleeping over there. I'm sure she'll be fine; she totally trusts them.” She paused a moment, thinking. “Mr. Taisho especially. He still can't stand me, but he's incredible with Rin. Taught her to tie her shoes the other day. Something I've been trying for months!”

 

“'Wow! That's great…not the can't standing you part, but I'm glad Rin is adjusting to her new life.”

 

“Yeah,” Kagome laughed, “her grandparents are determined to spoil the living shit out of her. Child's never been on so many shopping sprees in her life. Toys…clothes. I'll have to say something.”

 

“Keep in mind they've got four years of presents to make up for,” Sango reminded her gently.

 

Kagome threw mustard seeds and minced garlic into the melted ghee, swirling the pan to the sounds of sizzling and popping. “Sango, I need to mention something as long as we're alone. I looked at some emails for the column last night, and one of them is from a horny virginity pledger. He wants to get up his girlfriend-of-two-month's skirt so bad, he's thinking of asking her to marry him.”

 

“Two months isn't very long to make a life commitment. How do plan to respond?” Sango asked.

 

“I have no fucking idea,” she replied tiredly. “That's the problem. You can imagine what I think of virginity pledges. It's not necessarily that I'm against them…okay, I am. They're just so…Sex Negative. God knows there are ass loads of people out there having sex when they really shouldn't be. Denial, dishonesty, being completely emotionally unequipped to deal with the consequences. But putting virginity on a pedestal of purity, by extension reinforces the idea that sex, especially sex outside marriage, is dirty and wrong. More than all that though, this email is very genuine. He's honestly asking me for advice about a weighty issue. I don't want to belittle him by coming across as snarky or irreverent.”

 

“You, snarky? Irreverent?” Sango actually knew how seriously Kagome took her column, but couldn't resist teasing. “And here I thought you were ready for another barrage of hate mail from the Religious Right.”

 

“Yeah…good times. I'm due for another death threat.” Her voice oozed cynicism, and Sango regretted making light of the subject.

 

“Kagome, you'll do fine. I know what I'd tell a client in that situation. If you'd like me to proof your response before it goes to print, I'd be happy to.”

 

Kagome dumped green beans from a colander into the skillet, stirred, and covered it with a lid. “Thanks. I just wish I had more confidence giving advice about marriage. What the hell do I know about wedded bliss? I used to go through boyfriends like toothbrushes—new one every three months.”

 

“Kagome, you're open-minded enough to wrap yourself around the concept of a long term relationship,” she said. “And your advice to gay men proves you don't need personal experience in order to have insight into the human condition. Miroku and I probably wouldn't be together had it not been for your meddling. And I know Jak and Bank say the same thing. Now when are you going to let me play matchmaker for you to return the favor?”

 

Kagome's scowl, turned into a naughty grin. “I'd let you set me up with your cute, little brother.” Sango's brother had just finished his freshman year of college.

 

“Kohaku?” Sango couldn't keep the horror from her face. “Don't even think about it! You'd eat him alive.”

 

“Not eat, just…chew on him a little. I'd follow the campsite rule.”

 

Sango, unconvinced, frowned. “Leave him in better shape than you found him? I doubt that.”

 

“You're so sweet and overprotective,” she cooed, as she carefully pulled a large, enameled cast iron pot from the oven. Sango helped her spoon the rich, reddish sauce and meat into a serving dish.

 

“Looks incredible. Is it lamb?” The mouth-watering smells made Sango realize how hungry she was, having skipped lunch after Ultimate practice.

 

“Yep. Rogan Josh. Don't worry; it's nowhere near as fiery as the Vindaloo I made the last time. Basmati rice with peas, lentils with spinach, and beets with onions are all on the stove with the beans. Totally digging the six-burner stovetop, by the way.” She sprinkled garam masala on the food, then quickly hugged her friend. “I'm so glad you could come! Let's get the others.”

 

XxXxX

 

“Cheers!” Four champagne flutes chimed brightly, as a new beginning was toasted.

 

“And I owe it all to you,” she thanked Sesshoumaru, bubbles tickling her nose.

 

The dinner had gone off well; all the preparation Kagome had put into planning, grinding spices, and chopping seemingly endless onions to the pain of stinging eyes was appreciated, and appropriate compliments were paid. She beamed when Sesshoumaru told her it was the best Indian cuisine he'd had since his visit there, and Miroku and Sango, frequent beneficiaries of Kagome's cooking, told her she'd outdone herself. Conversation flowed smoothly, though whenever the subject matter turned to the arena or local politics or anything that held little interest for a four-year-old, Rin redirected the attention to herself. Not that any of them, all fond of the child, minded that much. Kagome was pleased, but not surprised, that Miroku and Sesshoumaru seemed to have developed a rapport. Miroku was an incredibly easy person to talk to, as was Sango, and Kagome decided that perhaps it was only around her that Sesshoumaru seemed so bored and irritated.

 

Rin fussed when she was told it was time for bed, but a full-on temper tantrum was avoided by Sesshoumaru's quick intervention. He would read a book and tuck her in, if she cooperated. Rin happily agreed. While she was being put to bed, the others did dishes, and when finished, they all sat on the patio to enjoy champagne.

 

“So Kagome, how goes band practice?” Miroku asked. He had only seen Kagome in Arrow once before she quit, back in the band's infancy, and looked forward to her upcoming performance.

 

“It's been great! It took a bit for the guitar thing to come back to me, but it's like riding a bike, and the guys have been really patient. They decided not to do any of the new songs, so we've been concentrating on all the stuff I mostly already know. And Drew and I have been working on some new vocal harmonies, so all good. How's life in the legal lane?”

 

Miroku groaned. “I go to court on Tuesday for the worst divorce in history. These people take out restraining orders against each other every other week. My client's wife saw him with another woman at her Starbucks, so she called 911 and wanted to have him arrested for stalking her. When the police didn't haul him away in handcuffs, she went to the courthouse and filed a domestic violence order.”

 

Kagome was shocked. “Poor guy. Hell hath no fury…”

 

“I actually hate my client and have no sympathy for him. I'm convinced he's hiding assets, but he's sure his accountant covered his ass during deposition.” Miroku shook his head in disgust.

 

“Why don't you just get out of the case?” Sango asked, rolling her eyes. Her husband's stories of work ceased to amuse long ago and now only angered her that he brought stress home with him.

 

“Because he pays his bills, darling,” he replied cynically. “And if I fired every client I didn't like, I wouldn't be practicing. At least there aren't any minor children in this particular case. Those are the worst.”

 

“Aww poor widdle ambulance chaser,” Kagome teased, “are those mean people making you miserable?”

 

Miroku couldn't keep from laughing. “Let me tell you about the couple that came in for a consult yesterday; you'll enjoy this Kagome.”

 

She squirmed in anticipation. Miroku always had great stories about stupidity and poor judgment, and Kagome reveled in Schadenfreude. “Lay it on me.”

 

“They found a girl on the internet and invited her over from a threesome. Apparently they hit it off, because she stayed for the better part of a month. When she moved out, the woman noticed that most of her jewelry was missing. They were able to track the sexy little thief down and wrote her a letter saying that if she returned the pilfered items, they wouldn't call the cops. This couple, however, has a rather prominent place in the community and had no intention of contacting law enforcement, fearing exposure. Unfortunately for them, their bluff was called. She informed them that not only would she be keeping the jewels, they would, for the foreseeable future, be sending her cash.”

 

Kagome rubbed her hands together with wicked glee. “Ooo trouble…what'd you advise?”

 

“They want to keep the matter private, but even if they file a civil suit it'll be in the public record. And I have a feeling this girl won't go away; she'll up the ante as long as they continue to play along. Basically life as they know it is over. They can have their personal lives and reputations in the open or be under the thumb of an extortionist. My advice was to go to police.” He thought for moment. “I wonder what Scarlet would say.”

 

“She would say, `Haven't I told you people not to trust everyone you meet on the internet and don't you know there are discreet professionals for those in your position?'” Kagome said without thinking, then realized her faux pas. “Not that I read that column or anything,” she said quickly.

 

Miroku was dumbfounded. “What do you mean you don't read Scarlet Letter'd? I could almost see you writing it.”

 

“A trashy sex advice column?” Kagome objected, a little too strenuously, she feared. “Read about a bunch of clueless people and their problems? I've got less important things to do.” Kagome stole a glance at Sango, who was trying not to laugh. Her friend and her editor were the only people aware of Kagome's alter ego. “I only read The Link for the editorials,” she said, winking at Sesshoumaru. She was too busy trying to cover her tracks to notice his vaguely guilty expression.

 

The conversation turned to the arena project and the city's professional basketball team. Sango and Kagome listened quietly for a few minutes before rolling their eyes at each other, scooting chairs closer together, and gossiping about friends, family, and acquaintances.

 

“So do you think Kouga will ask her to move in with him, or do you think he's still waiting for you to come around?”

 

Kagome buried her face in her hands. “Surely he's still not holding out hope. That was years ago for fucksake.”

 

“Poor Kouga. I wish he'd come to his senses. Such a great guy, and Ayame isn't that bad…I think if he would commit to her, she'd get over her weird possessive insecurities.”

 

“God I hope so. Sometimes I feel like she'd kill me if she could get away with it. I mean goddam, I could count on one hand the number of times we were naked together,” she said dismissively.

 

The women realized the men had become silent and were now listening.

 

“Sooo…what book did Rin have you read,” Kagome asked Sesshoumaru, rapidly changing the subject.

 

“She didn't want me to read to her. She requested a story about Inuyasha's childhood.”

 

“And…” Kagome prompted, eager to know more.

 

“I told her about his seventh birthday, when he crashed his new bike into the gate at the end of the drive and ended up with twelve stitches. Many of Inuyasha's birthdays were marked by a trip to the emergency room. Bicycle, skate board, baseball…chemistry set.”

 

The buoyant laughter had a trace of melancholy.

 

“He was a wild man, wasn't he? God I miss him.” Kagome wiped at her eyes. “My partner in crime.”

 

“You two definitely brought out the worst in each other,” Sango said.

 

“Best in each other,” Kagome corrected indignantly.

 

“Oh really,” Sango said dubiously. “Like when we all went to Six Flags, and you two decided tripping sounded fun?”

 

Kagome cringed at the memory. “Not one of our brightest moments. I thought I was going to die five fucking thousand times that day.” She looked carefully at Sesshoumaru. She wanted them to be friends and hoped he didn't seem too appalled, but his expression was unreadable. “For future reference, roller coasters and hallucinogens aren't a good combination. Unless of course you're Inuyasha; he had a ball. I screamed so much I couldn't talk the next day. I think Kikyou really actually hated us for a little while.”

 

“And who could blame her?” Miroku scoffed. “I wouldn't want to be stuck babysitting you idiots.”

 

“We were little shits back then weren't we? Poor Kikyou. She was a saint.”

 

Miroku got up. “And on that note, I think it's time to say thank you and goodbye. It's after ten, and I've got a trial to prepare for tomorrow.”

 

After farewell handshakes and embraces, Kagome awkwardly realized she and Sesshoumaru were now alone, and she was about to excuse herself when he surprised her by asking if she'd like another glass of wine.

 

“I'd love one,” she responded, wondering if perhaps Rin was right in saying that he didn't hate her. If he did, he would have said goodnight, not offered her another drink, she rationalized. “Though I'll warn you, that champagne went right to my head. If I say something stupid or insulting, just ignore me.”

 

Sesshoumaru handed her a glass of wine and sat. “I like your friends. Miroku is very different than what I had imagined. I must have assumed that Inuyasha's friends were like him.”

 

“They're good people. Yasha and Miroku lived together in the dorm freshman year. They were close. Sango and Kikyou were dorm mates too. The five of us did everything together.”

 

“Didn't you feel like a fifth wheel around them?”

 

“Nah. Kikyou and I had always been together, and Inuyasha and I were two peas in pod. And sometimes I had a boyfriend too. Just not the past oh…year or two.”

 

He quirked an elegant brow questioningly.

 

“I'm experimenting with a prolonged period of partial celibacy.” She refused to elaborate.

 

He looked at her intently. “And what happened the last time you drank champagne?”

 

She blushed, remembering. “We were at a friend's art opening. It was in one of those galleries downtown that are located on the first floor of a high rise office tower. Okay…champagne makes me sleepy. I had gone to the restroom and on the way back I sat down in one of those shoe shine chairs to make a phone call. Well, I fell asleep and when I woke up the fucking place was dark and deserted and locked up.”

 

He watched her, detached as usual, but with mild curiosity. “What did you do?”

 

“Panicked, of course. I set off the building's alarm trying to escape, and my dumb ass was almost arrested for breaking and entering.”

 

“Do you often find yourself in situations of that nature?”

 

“Uhh…yeah. Trouble and I are close friends.” She bit her lip in embarrassment, but couldn't keep quiet. “It was hard growing up sometimes, with a near-perfect sister, being in her shadow. But that all changed when we were thirteen.”

 

He waited for her to continue.

 

“My sister and I were supposed to go to sleep-away camp that summer, but I broke my arm falling out of a tree. So Kikyou went, and I was left home.”

 

“That doesn't sound like a positive development,” he commented dryly.

 

“No, but sometimes destiny works in mysterious ways,” she chanted eerily. “My father directed a marching band camp in the summer, and my mother worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles doing the driving part of the license examination. I was actually grounded the whole summer—”

 

“Is that related to falling out of the tree?” he interrupted.

 

“Yeah…we were trying to sneak out of the house to see Rocky Horror Picture Show at midnight,” she admitted reluctantly. “Sneaking out, late at night, to see an R-rated movie. My parents were not charmed. Kikyou and I had an agreement that we'd always cover for each other, no matter what, so I told them I was going by myself. Anyway…my parents didn't trust me to stay home alone, all day, every day; they thought I'd have my friends come over or something,” she explained, “so I had to go over to my mom's younger brother's house while they were at work. Her brother, Souta, was only twenty-one, and just as cool as shit. He was a total gear head, spent the whole day working on cars in his garage. He was a devoted Audiphile, but dabbled in other German automobiles, BMW and Porsche mostly, but would occasionally tinker with Mercedes and VWs.”

 

“That explains your reaction to my car.”

 

“Yeah. His love of all cars Deutsche rubbed off on me. Anyway, he had a constant parade of other car boys in and out of the garage. They all had girlfriends, most of them bored, having been dragged along, and they thought Souta's little niece was just too fucking cute. So they kinda took me under the collective wing and introduced me to all sorts stuff. New music mostly. It was 1992…Jane's Addiction, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, for example. Then Souta decided I was being corrupted by that `sissy college music' as he called it. So he schooled me in what was, in his opinion, the only music that mattered, old school punk and classic heavy metal. Led Zeppelin, The Stooges, and lots and lots of Black Sabbath.”

 

She paused while Sesshoumaru refilled their glasses, amazed that he hadn't told her to shut up yet.

 

After he sat back down and didn't bring up anything else, she continued. “That summer was so significant for me. Life changing, really.” She stopped and reflected, sipping wine. “There was a music zine a few years ago that had an article about Arrow, and in it Kikyou was portrayed as the embodiment of an angel and I was her polar opposite. Total bad seed. But it wasn't like that at all. We did the same things, especially as kids. But I had spent the first thirteen years of my life feeling like Fate had pinned a Kick Me sign to my back. For example, when we were young and went to the playground and there was a mud puddle, I was the one to accidentally step in it. If we were both trying to help my mom with the housework, I was the one who broke Gandma's antique Japanese teapot while dusting, got the drapes hopelessly stuck in the vacuum, and overfed the whole aquarium full of tropical fish.”

 

“If you were both trying to sneak out, you were the one to fall out of a tree?” The pattern was clear.

 

“Precisely,” she smiled. “Anyway…so that summer while Kikyou was away at camp, I listened to music with my cool Uncle Souta, got my ears double pierced, learned how to change the oil in a car, learned how to swear effectively, smoked my first cigarette, and kissed my first boy. He was the fourteen year-old brother of Souta's girlfriend. I was allowed access to shit that, only the year before, had been completely forbidden. Kikyou, on the other hand, came home from camp with a serious case of poison ivy and was positively green with envy at my experiences. I felt for the first time that I wasn't doomed. And that was all it took, a different attitude. My luck changed. I didn't completely stop fucking up necessarily, but I no longer felt it was predestined.”

 

Sesshoumaru contemplated what she'd told him. “Sounds similar to what you told me about Inuyasha's experience when his dyslexia was recognized and he went to the Frazier School.”

 

“Very much, I guess. You know though, the more I think about it, that summer was the beginning of a lot of my bad habits. Boy kissing, cig smoking, cursing.”

 

“You smoke?” he asked with disgust.

 

“Used to. I quit over four years ago. The hardest thing I've ever done. Literally. I had to stop drinking for four months, and I obsessively played paddle ball; I had to keep my hands busy.”

 

“Paddle ball?”

 

“You know, that toy…wooden paddle with the bouncy ball attached by an elastic string.” She thought she saw a flit of recognition. “I ended up really good at it.”

 

“So you quit one filthy habit…when are you going to clean up your language?” he taunted.

 

“Oh, does my potty mouth hurt your ears,” she teased back. “I've been really good around your parents, and you must have noticed I keep myself in check around Rin. I let an occasional Shit slip sometimes, but I've never let an F-bomb go in front of her.”

 

“You came pretty close the other day,” he reminded her.

 

“Close doesn't count,” she defended herself.

 

The wine was gone. Sesshoumaru stood and offered her a hand up. She accepted it and couldn't help but let the touch linger. His skin was warm, palms slightly calloused, fingers strong. Her pulse raced, and she suddenly felt like she was playing with fire.

 

“The evening was lovely, Kagome. Thank you.”

 

She blinked to clear her head; his attractiveness was beguiling. I've consumed way too much alcohol, she decided. “You're welcome. Goodnight, Sesshoumaru.” She reluctantly freed her hand and turned to walk back to the guest house.

 

He watched her go, slender and graceful, followed by a huge, black, dog-shaped shadow.

 

&&&

 

I do not own Inuyasha. Nor can I lay claim to Arpege, Cakebread Cellars, Krug, Starbucks, Six Flags, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Audi, BMW, Porsche, Mercedes, Volkswagen, Jane's Addiction, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Led Zeppelin, The Stooges, or Black Sabbath. Thank you for reading; reviews, as always, are appreciated.