InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hit and Run ❯ Ain't Misbehavin' ( Chapter 5 )

A/N: Hey, I'm back from the dead... sort of... Anyways, I thought I'd throw Miroku into the mix, hopefully for some more plot development (Thanks for pointing out the lack-of, KTX. You're the man!). To all of my wonderful, spectacular, kick-ass reviewers, you guys keep me inspired! Sorry it took so long for an update-- life's been busy kicking my ass.

This chapter is named after one of my favorite jazz pieces, performed by Duke Ellington.

Disclaimer: You know what goes here.

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Ain't Misbehavin'

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Miroku considered himself a stand-up guy. Charming, sweet, a bit dashing if in the right light... Maybe a little rough around the edges, but he was a man-- and wasn't that to be expected from the more hormonal of the sexes?

And as a straight-shooting Joe, Miroku was always a gentleman. How could one not be, in the company of such beautifully classy women? Why, he was downright chivalrous, if he did say so himself.

If that didn't have the ladies swooning, Miroku also thought of himself as a bit of a romantic. Not so much as to damage his testosterone levels (which were nothing to sneeze at, I assure you), but enough to be considered a tad hopeless. Elegant roses, moonlit evenings, jazz singers crooning 'Someone to Watch Over Me', holding her hand, caressing her--

"Damnit, Miroku!" Kagome screeched, grabbing a hold of his short ponytail and yanking hard, effectively averting his eyes from some of her... lower regions. "My face is UP HERE."

Yeah. Miroku was one stand-up guy. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Kagome let out a sigh of frustration, burying her face in her hands. Miroku sighed as well-- Kagome had a pretty face, but she could be downright whiny at times.

"What I was saying... for the past half hour..." Kagome's dirty looks were promptly ignored. "... was that I signed my soul away to the most pompous ass on the planet."

They had decided to have a small meeting in the food court at the mall (at Kagome's insistent pleading), to discuss certain "recent events". Naturally, serious discussions with beautiful girls set off warning bells in Miroku's mind, but Kagome was his best friend, and as such deserved his utmost attention.

Plus, she threatened to plaster his 9th grade yearbook picture over every bathroom wall she could find.

And, being the gentleman he was, he cordially agreed to meet her wherever and whenever she wanted.

"What's stopping you from refusing to go?" Miroku asked distractedly, his mind beginning to wander... er... places. Kagome should've known better than to pick such a populated area to have a sober chat with him; there were far too many long legs and short skirts to be ignored.

"It's my fault his life could be permanently screwed up, I can't just walk away..." She deflated visibly, rubbing her temples as if to relieve the pressure steadily building around her brain. God, this entire situation was giving her one hell of a migraine.

Miroku's mind had gone too far, apparently, as his articulate response was a blunt: "Huh?"

"I caused accident. Car hit tree and driver got hurt. My fault, must find restitution. Problem: driver is complete jerk. Which part of this is confusing you?" She let loose a frustrated groan and pulled the ends of her hair.

"Alright, alright, just calm down." Dang, Kagome's headaches were contagious; Miroku gingerly massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "So, this guy is a bit anal. Surely you can put up with the wart-faced old man for a little while, can't you?"

"Inu-Yasha isn't ugly," she defended, maybe a little too quickly, feeling her cheeks heat at her hasty comment. "I-I mean... h-he wasn't old, or anything. The nurse told me he was only 25."

Oops.

A snarky smirk began forming in the corner of Miroku's lips, a slight twinge upwards and a spark in his eyes, making him look devilishly handsome-- it was a look that, over the years, had come to haunt Kagome's worst nightmares.

"Now I see," he growled rakishly. "No doubt our little Kagome is having a spot of trouble with an antagonistic relationship."

Kagome's blush multiplied tenfold in indignant embarrassment. "I'm not having trouble with a relationship because there is no relationship! He's a JERK who doesn't deserve our sympathy! He's not even an available jerk! He--"

"Ahh!" Miroku rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his smirk widening as he cut her tirade short. "So he's currently engaged in another relationship! I see your distress. But I'm sure true love will prevail, my dear, even if you have to play the part of 'the other woman' for a while. One day he'll see you're clearly the better choice and the two of you will settle down together and have many babies and be happy."

Apparently, aside from being a romantic, Miroku was also a great consultant.

"Gah! You're hopeless!" Kagome moaned, resting an elbow on the table and burying her face in her hands.

"That's what they tell me."

Kagome looked up through splayed fingers, only to see Miroku ogling a particularly busty female shopper flouncing down at the table next to them with enough shopping bags to smother an elephant. Miroku's mischievous grin had remained unchanged, though his expression had altered from playfully teasing to lecherously leering as the woman bent over to deposit her armload onto the floor.

Kagome snorted, shaking her head. "I'm ashamed for you, Miroku. So very ashamed."

"Mmmhmm..." came the reply.

"Unless you've changed your tactics, which I'm going to assume you haven't," Kagome favored him with a level stare, "you don't have a snowball's chance on a hot summer's day."

The man's gaze never dropped nor changed in intensity. "Mmmhmm..."

Well if that's how he was going to play...

"Fifty bucks."

As expected, Miroku's head whipped around so fast Kagome almost couldn't follow it. "What?"

She grinned triumphantly. It was almost too easy. "Fifty dollars says you can't charm that lovely stranger over there."

Kagome had Miroku in the bag, and they both knew it. The combination of money and a good dare had always been too sweet for Miroku to pass up. In their childhoods, Kagome had often gambled the poor boy out of his cupcakes at recess, though it never did manage to hamper his competitive streak.

"Deal."

They confirmed the bet with a handshake, both wearing equally smug grins. "Well, go to it."

"With pleasure, Kagome."

With deliberate care, Miroku stood, picking an invisible speck of lint off his T-shirt before swaggering over to the oblivious shopper with his most charming smile in place. The woman, looking a bit more flustered than flattered, gave him a tiny grin as he took the liberty to occupy the vacant chair across from her.

Kagome had to admit, Miroku certainly had a way with words, for the most part. When they had met, she did have a slight infatuation with his advanced vocabulary and articulate manner. Add that to a handsome face and you have the makings of a genuine Prince Charming.

However, those feelings were almost immediately squashed after Miroku "expressed" his feelings.

"Madam, don't worry yourself! A frown is nowhere near as becoming as a smile on that beautiful face."

Oh. He was good.

"Please," at this point, Miroku had gotten down on one knee and held the woman's hand in one of his own. His other hand, however, was inching very slowly towards the woman's generous cleavage. "I'm afraid that my family is cursed with a horrid disease that will, unfortunately, claim my life in a matter of months-- no, spare me no tears. All I can possibly ask from you would be for you to do me the honor of bearing..."

Kagome had heard enough; she knew perfectly well where this was going. She turned her head away out of decency, since it was far too painful to witness...

TWACK!

It wasn't long until Miroku pulled himself back into the chair next to Kagome, his face twisted in a sour expression accented by a red, hand-shaped bruise throbbing painfully on his cheek.

"Not bad, Miroku. At least this one didn't stab you with a salad fork." Kagome's victorious grin was nothing short of haughty. "Did you manage to catch her name before she pummeled you?"

Miroku pouted. "Alas, you win again. I shall die both alone and broke. Thanks a lot, Kags."

"I do try."

They chuckled a bit before falling into a comfortable silence.

Nothing had ever been awkward between them (with the exception of Miroku's wandering hand; that would make any girl uncomfortable); it was always familiar in a way that could not be described.

How this familiarity came about, no one seemed to know, since it seemed a lecher like Miroku was incapable of a platonic relationship-- but no one questioned Kagome's taste in company nor speculated the origins of their closeness. Everyone Kagome Higurashi was far too innocent to be accused of indecent behavior.

Miroku studied his friend out of the corner of his eye, watching closely as she sipped the remnants of her soda with little delicacy. Long raven hair that curled around her slim shoulders, slender figure, large brown doe-eyes and a sprinkling of near-invisible freckles across the bridge of her nose; Kagome was pretty, he observed-- not in an elegant way but more in a cutesy-pink-dress way.

And she had the longest legs he had ever seen on a woman.

"So," he started when hearing the slurping noise of Kagome's straw at the bottom of her empty cup, "what did you really call me here for? I know it wasn't just to have your ten second rant and then cheat me out of fifty bucks..."

She gave him a smiling sigh before replying in an apologetic tone, "I promised I'd visit Inu-Yasha today."

"And...?" Miroku blinked in confusion, folding his arms casually across his chest.

"And..." Kagome continued hesitantly, "I was hoping that maybe you'd come with me... you know, for emotional support."

He had to laugh at this. "For you, or for the man you almost killed?"

The withering glare the comment earned him effectively minimized his laughter to a thin giggle.

"Sorry," Miroku amended with an awkward cough. He'd almost forgotten how moody Kagome could be. "Something's confusing me here; why did you say you'd visit this 'Inu-Yasha' character if you really, really didn't want to visit him?"

Kagome frowned. "I promised I'd deliver his first payment to cover his car, so he'd take me seriously."

"But you waitress tables at some po-dink little diner in between grueling college classes. Where are you getting the money to pay this guy?"

"I returned the cashmere sweater Mom bought me for my birthday," Kagome said regretfully, "and the weird key-chain thing Grandpa got for me. Add that to what I had saved for back-up rent..."

Miroku cocked an eyebrow at her, still obviously skeptical. "And how's that enough for a first payment?"

Kagome gave him a wry grin. "By the way, you still owe me fifty bucks."

Sigh. "Never mind..."

Bored. Inu-Yasha was B-O-R-E-D fifty times over and then some. Damn, Sango wasn't even nice enough to turn on the television after she pummeled him for getting out of bed before the doctors said he could.

It had been hours since he'd last had contact with a human being (he had also found out that Sango hit fucking hard), but it felt like years. At times he could faintly hear the clattering of sterilized tools on trays through the closed door as the white-clad nurses continued their rounds, though none took the initiative to check on him after the Sango-needle-bitch had applied her sedatives.

What he wouldn't give for that irritating Kagame wench or whatever her name was to irritate and argue with. It would at least give him something to do.

He'd counted all fifty-three ceiling tiles eight times already (finding it slightly strange for a square room to have an odd number of tiles), and had read and re-read all the peeling button labels on the whirring machine connected to his pulse. In fact, Inu-Yasha was surprised he understood the majority of the strange abbreviations, though it really didn't do much to entertain him for long.

How did invalids DO this all day?

White, white, and more white-- there really wasn't much to look at, what with the tiny window being on the other side of the room and all, and even then it was facing the brick wall of the building next door. Did hospitals really expect their patients to recover from traumatizing incidents in a room similar to the empty cells of an asylum?

God, if he didn't find something to do soon, he'd go fucking insane.

With a heavy sigh, Inu-Yasha squirmed in his sheets, rumpling them around his waist as he sought more comfortable position. His open-backed hospital gown crackled like paper as he moved, and rubbed irritatingly against his bare skin. Damn, he hated hospitals.

The mattress was thick and stiff, and though he really hadn't expected any different it was still damn frustrating not being able to reach the refuge of sleep.

"Fuck." He cursed softly, feeling a twinge in his back as he pulled a sore muscle. "Ouch."

Mentally, Inu-Yasha made a note to really piss off that wench when she came back to get even for this undeserved torture. Why did his back still hurt even after the damn painkillers had been administered?

With a growl, he slammed himself back against his pile of over-starched pillows, smelling a puff of sanitizer as it escaped from the fabric. It burned his eyes and the back of his throat until he ended up hacking and coughing like a chain-smoker, wheezing something awful and spitting the bile that rose in his mouth on the floor next to his bed.

Damnit.

Life was being a major bitch, and it was really starting to tick him off.

The hospital was blandly quiet today; no sick children, no drunk drivers, no cancer-riddled smokers, no freak heart attacks, no nothing. The waiting room was ghostly empty and the recovering patients were contently quiet. Normally, this sort of healthy lull in the rush of injury would come as a pleasant godsend to any good-hearted citizen.

But it only bored Sango to tears.

Man, was she ever ready for her shift to be over. Today she'd decided to take an earlier one, and now could enjoy her sterilizer-free evening at home. Lingering at the front desk, the young woman glanced periodically at the plain-faced clock on the wall while fiddling with her plastic name badge, watching the second hand slowly twitch its way towards freedom. Five more minutes, four minutes and fifty-five seconds, four minutes and forty-eight seconds...

She'd go home to take a long bath to rid herself of those nasty sanitizer smells that clung to her every day, Sango decided, that is, after she treated herself to a large lunch at a nice restaurant. A chicken ceaser salad sounded heavenly, with loads ranch dressing and the olives weeded out.

Three minutes and thirty-two seconds...

And she'd finally have time to go to the gym for a nice workout-- maybe she'd even bring her younger brother along, if he'd like to come. And after the gym she'd be relaxed and refreshed, so she could finish that over-due book she'd borrowed from the library a couple months ago.

Two minutes forty-seven seconds...

Later she'd pick up a few chick-flicks at the nearby video-rental place and make lots of low-fat popcorn, not too buttery and a bit burnt. She liked it that way. Then she'd sit down with a box of tissues and have an uninterrupted night of Steel Magnolias and Sleepless In Seattle.

One minute six seconds...

It was in the last few seconds of her shift that Sango heard the automatic doors whoosh open. Her eyes darted across the room in hopes of escape, but it was too late, for a small hand had already gripped her sleeve in a hesitant manner to grab her attention.

"Excuse me, Miss..." a pretty girl with raven hair scanned her person for a name badge, "...Tajiya, would you mind helping us find Mr. Inu-Yasha Hatsuyo? I'm supposed to give him something."

Sango sighed in defeat. So much for getting off on time. "Of course, you must be Miss Higurashi. Kaede told me you were coming. Please, follow me."

From what she knew, Sango was a very perceptive person and a great judge of character. And something was bothering her about the strangers. The Higurashi girl had a nice, open smile that was just a tad bit contagious; she seemed like a friendly, innocent person if you let the whole nasty car accident thing go.

Her companion, however, seemed a bit shifty, in Sango's honest opinion. His expression was schooled and unreadable, though the intense leer he was giving her was making her a bit uncomfortable.

"Miss Tajiya," his pronunciation was flawless despite the hard-to-read/spell last name, "is there any particular reason that Mr. Hatsuyo is so far into the wing while rooms closer to the front remain empty?"

Sango blinked in surprise. Not many people were observant enough to notice their rather odd (though completely wonderful) rooming system. It was simple, really. The loud/obnoxious patients went to the back, while the soft-spoken polite ones got to stay closer to the front where their visitors and nurses could reach them quickly if needed (Kaede was brilliant for coming up with it).

"No reason, really," she replied, watching the stranger out warily of the corner of her eye as he nodded in response.

He was sinfully handsome; she wasn't about to deny it. He was the kind of guy her girlfriends swooned over. His face could have been on a movie poster, even. His dark hair was longer than most men's and pulled back into a sort of rat-tail at the nape of his neck, and his face was boyish despite the obvious years behind those wizened blue eyes...

... His hands, however, did not seem to know where to put themselves.

Sango's eyes widened and her whole body went stiff with shock as she felt a gentle-- but unmistakably evident-- pressure on her rear.

Kagome cowered as their nurse turned an unhealthy shade of angry maroon. She almost felt sorry for Miroku.

"Why you...!!!"

"I'm sorry, Miss. It was an accident. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity..."

Almost.

There was the unmistakable slap of skin connecting with skin as Sango whirled on Miroku with deadly intent. Kagome couldn't help but wince as the blow sent the man flying.

"PERVERT!" her indignant cry carried surprisingly well through the empty corridors.

Miroku, however, was not conscious enough to hear it. Evidently Sango was much stronger than her slender frame let on, and the poor man lay sprawled over the floor.

"My god, I'm so sorry!" Kagome muttered hurriedly, burying her face in her hands in an obvious act of embarrassment. "He told me he'd behave, geeze, I'm so sorry! He's just--"

The irate Sango huffed for a moment, her hand raised and poised for another attack. "It's not your fault, Miss Higurashi."

"Kagome," the girl amended. "Call me Kagome."

"Kagome, then," Sango nodded politely, taking a deep breath and mentally counting to ten. "It wasn't your fault this lecher groped me. There is no need for you to apologize. Him, however..."

She gave Miroku's prone form a none-too-gentle kick.

"... May the Gods help him once he regains his feet," the nurse managed to grind out between clenched teeth.

Miroku tried to make some muffled comment from his position on the floor, but Kagome ground the heel of her tennis-shoe into the back of his head before he could exhale more than a stifled yelp.

"Quiet, you," she grumbled, her cheeks still a bit red with embarrassment. "I should have never asked you to come. You're nothing but a nuisance."

"Mmfph," came the reply.

Sango snorted, turning on her heel and continuing down the hall. "You have an odd taste in friends, Kagome. Now hurry, visiting hours are almost over."

Kagome nodded in agreement, moving her foot and allowing the unfortunate Miroku to stand before heading after Sango.

For his part, the man recovered quite quickly from the abuse he had received and had caught up with the two peeved women, regarding them with a passive expression. Long ago, Kagome had dubbed this impenetrable poker face of Miroku's his "Buddha face", and watched him suspiciously. He only used his "Buddha face" when...

Crap.

"Miss Tajia," his voice was humbled as if he spoke in earnest, "I want to apologize for my rude and forward behavior. Your beauty was just too great that I could not ignore it, please forgive a poor man for falling head over heels for a gorgeous woman."

For a moment it looked as if Sango might actually consider exonerating Miroku's actions... that is until another hand decided to wander a bit too far south.

"Forgive my forwardness, but I can't hold it in any longer. Please, would a beautiful lady such as yourself do me the honor of bearing my children?"

Sango considered herself a patient person. Tolerant, enduring even. But the hand caressing her breasts quickly snapped the tense wire of fortitude and sent the nurse spiraling into an animalistic rage.

Kill, kill, kill!

With a roar of frustration, the nurse's fist flashed out for the second time, leaving Miroku with a particularly nasty lump on his head. "LECHER!!"

Kagome sighed as Sango strode off purposefully to the last room at the end of the hall, hands balled into tense fists as she knocked open the door without waiting for the others to catch up. An indignant yelp could be heard from the corridors as the hapless Inu-Yasha suffered the remains of Sango's wrath. There were audible clangs and shouts-- Kagome assumed the livid nurse was throwing things-- before Sango emerged again, eyes blazing.

"I said get up, jerk!! There are people to see you!" she spat from the door.

Kagome met her there, placing a hand on the nurse's shoulder apologetically before heading in. "Sorry again for all the trouble, Miss Taji--"

"Sango," the nurse revised with a small smile, which was promptly returned. That Kagome girl really did have a nice open smile.

The glare directed over her shoulder instructed Miroku to wait outside. His attention was too engaged to argue, as he made a pass at Sango's chest as he walked passed her. However, the woman's reflexes were sharper than he had anticipated and in the blink of an eye he was flipped over her shoulder and onto his back.

"So," how he managed to stay cocky while being thrashed by a woman, Sango would never know, "I didn't know you were into the whole S&M thing, but I'll try anything once."

Those were the last words Miroku spoke before meeting what he guessed was the flat end of a nearby bench.