InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Moving Pictures ❯ Unexpected Visit ( Chapter 12 )

A/N:

 

FFnet: gothic-ember, forgotten angel, Lucifer001

 

Mmorg: Jovian Fleet Commander, Kanesami

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any character created by Rumiko Takahashi.

 

Chapter 11 - Unexpected Visit

 

Countless sounds and smells assaulted him, and Sesshomaru clutched at his head with his hand, almost moaning in pain. Stumbling backwards, he was vaguely aware that he'd passed though a doorway into a smaller room, but kept his eyes screwed shut. Several minutes passed before he was able to take a steady breath and assess his surroundings.

 

The room was dark and crowded with strange gray boxes with thin snakes running from them. Lights winked at him, and some of the boxes whirred and hummed as if alive. Sniffing at them, he knew that they weren't living, but couldn't identify what kind of magic drove them. Against one wall there stood what he could only assume was a bed, but he had never seen one raised so far off the ground. A blanket made of many different squares of fabric lay over it, and several cushions were scattered across the top.

 

A shrill ringing filled the house, piercing his ears, and the sound of rushing water was abruptly cut off, followed by wet, slapping footsteps. A door swung open and Charlotte came bursting through, passing him by without a glance as he hid into the shadows of the little room. Wet and naked, apart from a thick sheet she was holding to her breasts, she tore across the room and snatched up a small, rectangular device. A cloud of sweet smelling steam followed her, but underneath it was her scent. He breathed it in, almost tasting it.

 

“Hello?” she said breathlessly into the mouthpiece, propping the cordless phone between her cheek and chin and turning down the stereo. The skin between her shoulder blades itched, as if she were being watched. Wrapping the towel around her body, she shrugged it off; she knew she was alone in her apartment.

 

“Charlotte? Are you okay?” an accented voice asked hesitantly.

 

“Keiko!” she cried in delight, switching to Japanese. “I'm fine, just got out of the shower! How are you?”

 

“I'd heard from your brother that you were missing,” she replied in Japanese, relief and mild outrage coloring her voice.

 

Charlotte laughed, “Charlie? I didn't know he had your number.”

 

“He doesn't. He picked up the phone when I called.”

 

“Oh. Well, you only have yourself to blame! You know that painting you sent me?”

 

“The landscape?”

 

“Yep! Well…” she gave her a briefing of her adventures of the past week, glossing over the more uncomfortable, embarrassing point as she wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the open bottle of Chardonnay. Reaching into her cupboard, she found a clean wine glass and poured a generous measure. “…Fortunately, Charlie didn't call the police. He did come down here to check on me but he's out right now…”

 

“I can't believe it! The shopkeeper said that it had something to do with youkai but I didn't really believe him.”

 

Chuckling, she took a long sip. She still felt like she was being watched. Chalking it up city paranoia, she sat on the kitchen floor, the cool terracotta tile somehow both uncomfortable and comforting against her bare bottom.

 

“So…this inuyoukai you met…” Keiko trailed off leadingly.

 

“Sesshomaru?”

 

“Yeah, so was he cute?”

 

In the middle of another sip, Charlotte choked and set the glass down. “Are you fucking kidding me? He was gorgeous!” Keiko laughed five thousand miles away. “You remember that song by the Divinyls?”

 

Keiko sang off-key in English, “When I think about you, I touch myself. That one?”

 

“That's the one.”

 

“Was he a good lay?”

 

“Oh. I didn't sleep with him.”

 

“What? You spent a week with a beef-cake and didn't ball him?” Keiko's incredulous voice raised an octave.

 

Sighing, she finished the wine in her glass and emptied the bottle into it. “Well… we pissed each other off a lot…” she thought back to their violent parting and cringed. Belatedly, she had realized that he'd been “scruffing” her, her mother's term for werelion, or youkai, punishment. Giving her a little shakedown for what he considered bad behavior. Instinctively, she knew that she had to make amends, which she resented, and had almost been relieved when the painting remained motionless, cutting off her doorway to feudal Japan. If it weren't for the nagging feeling of loneliness, she'd have locked the thing in the closet. Instead, she'd hung it in the living room and stared at it, worrying her lip and wondering how she would apologize. He had been rather rough, after all. And she wasn't a cub anymore - simple words would have been good enough. Charlotte huffed into the mouthpiece. “And it's not like I ball every cute guy I see.”

 

“Whatever. And you aren't going back because…?”

 

“The painting stopped moving. Can't get back.”

 

“Are you sure you're not just afraid to get involved with a guy who can get under your skin?'

 

“He lives 500 years in the past in Japan. That is one fucking long distance relationship.”

 

Keiko sighed, “Charlotte, you avoid commitment like the plague. Maybe you should give it a chance.”

 

“I told you, I can't get back.”

 

“Uh huh. One of these days, you'll meet someone who challenges you, who doesn't let you walk all over him. Then, commitment won't seem like such a bad thing.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Well, I'm glad you're okay. I have to go; my boyfriend will be here soon. Come visit me sometime!”

 

Charlotte signed off and stared at the receiver in her hand. `I miss him. I wonder if he misses me? Stupid, he's probably glad to be rid of me, especially after that scene in the store room.' She drained the glass and tossed the phone carelessly onto the counter. A professor had once said, “When you're sober, you're not quite sane.” She eyed her wine rack for another dose of sanity, adjusting the towel loosely and crawling toward it.

 

Movement in the corner of the room caught her eye and she turned toward it. Sesshomaru stepped into the light, staring down at her with an inscrutable expression. For a moment she could only stare, not believing her eyes. He took another step toward her and she shrieked, scrambling backwards on the kitchen floor until her back hit the fridge.

 

Pressing her back into the fridge, she stammered, “What… how did you…” her eyes widened. “How long have you been here?” His silence answered her question. He had heard the entire conversation. She groaned and slid up the fridge, using the handle to help herself up, “Oh my god…” With dismay, she realized that she'd left the towel by the wine rack.

 

“Hand me my towel,” she pointed to the green towel lying on the floor, faced flushed with embarrassment. His eyes narrowed as he glanced from her, to the towel, and back. “You're in my fucking apartment, so hand me the fucking towel!” she snapped at him, slightly hysterically. He bent just enough to lift the towel and toss it to her. She caught it in mid-air, and wrapped it around her, tucking the end between her breasts to secure it. Inching around the island counter, keeping it between her and him for as long as possible, she eyed him warily. His expression gave no indication as to what he was thinking. He simply watched her in silence.

 

Bracing herself, she made a mad dash toward the stairs to her lofted bedroom, vaulting the couch in order to stay as far away from him as possible. Once in her bedroom, she wedged her self between the wall and the bed, breathing hard and wishing for a bedroom door to slam. `Now what, genius? Have any more juicy confessions to make before the end of the evening?' She groaned and dropped her face in her hands.

 

Discarding the towel, she slipped on an old pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top. He would probably consider them indecent, but they were better than the towel. Besides, the cleaning lady Did Not Do Laundry, and Charlotte hadn't gotten around to it yet, so it was one of the few clean articles of clothing that she had in which to lounge around the house.

 

She glanced over the railing of her bedroom to the main room below. He was standing by one of the tall, arched windows, staring out at the city lights. Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs and stood at the foot, watching him.

 

He glanced at her, the lights from the city reflecting in his eyes like sparks in molten metal. She caught her breath; he was so beautiful. “That was not the greeting that this Sesshomaru expected.”

 

“You took me by surprise,” she mumbled, fiddling with the edge of her shorts as she crossed the room to the painting and flicked on the overhead lights. She almost missed his sharp intake of breath. If it weren't for the widening of his eyes and tense stance, she would have thought she had imagined it. “Electricity,” she explained, pointing at the light coming from the ceiling.

 

Motionless as ever, the painting hung where she had put it. `He may be here for a while. As much as I hate it, I'd better clear the air.' She still didn't think her flirting had warranted punishment, but it had been his house where he was alpha. She cleared her throat and turned around, flattening her ears and padding over to where he stood by the window, watching the street.

 

“Uh, Sesshomaru…” Only his eyes moved, sliding over to stare at her. She lowered her head, baring the side and back of her neck in proper contriteness. It galled her to do it, this show of submission, but it couldn't be helped. She only hope that he didn't choose to nip her like her mother sometimes had when she had been especially bad. It hadn't hurt but had been humiliating as hell. “I'm sorry about the thing with Yukio…I didn't think about what I was doing. It was habit, you know?”

 

Sesshomaru stared at the soft patch of skin over her pulse point, slightly amazed at how calm she seemed. Many demons had cowered before him, trembling and begging for their lives. She was nervous but not afraid. He was also curious if what she had been telling the other woman was true. He hadn't understood the bit of song, as it had been sung in a different language, nor the vulgar slang, but he got the gist of it. Deciding to try a little experiment, he bent down and whuffed hot breath over her neck, just enough to stir the fine, short hairs. She shivered but didn't move, her heart rate increasing. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he bent lower, barely scraping his fangs over skin.

 

She gasped and backed away, raising her head and eyeing him cautiously. “We cool?” Inclining his head, he blanked his expression, enjoying her uneasiness. She rubbed her neck absently, wandering back into the kitchen area.

 

“It wasn't just the catnip,” he spoke to her turned back.

 

She looked at him sharply over her shoulder, her mouth dropping open. She closed her mouth with a snap and scowled at him. “I never said it was. And you weren't supposed to hear that - you have violated the sanctity of girl talk.”

 

This time, he smirked at her, knowing that he had gained the upper hand. His satisfaction was short-lived, shattered by a timid knocking and a male voice. “Charlotte? Are you okay?”

 

Groaning, Charlotte changed to her human shape and walked to the door, throwing the bolt and opening the door as far as a short chain would allow. “Hi Nestor.”

 

“I thought I heard you scream, but then I thought it was the television. Then I thought I better check anyway…”

 

“I'm fine, Nestor. I…I thought I saw a cockroach.” `Good thing I wasn't in danger,' Charlotte thought. `With his response time, I would have been dead or kidnapped by the time he got here.'

 

He peered around her, scanning her apartment for some perceived threat. “Who's he? Did he hurt you? Is he growling?”

 

Charlotte moved to block his view. “No, he isn't growling,” she insisted, denying the obvious and gesturing behind her back for him to stop.

 

Instead of stopping, Sesshomaru approached the door and glared down at the weak human male in the hall. He didn't understand what they had been saying, but he knew a competitor when he saw one.

 

Nestor swallowed noisily and backed up a step. “Are you sure? He looks dangerous with all those tattoos.”

 

She shot Sesshomaru a speaking glare, “I'm sure, Nestor. Thanks for stopping by…” she started to close the door when Nestor put his hand on the doorjamb.

 

“Uh, Charlotte? Could I ask you something? In private?”

 

Sesshomaru's growl had increased when Nestor had stopped her from closing the door, and Charlotte wasn't sure how long he would wait to attack the human. “Now isn't really a good time... how about tomorrow?” Nestor's face fell, but he retreated from the doorway so that she could close the door, sighing in relief as she turned the lock.

 

“He called you by name,” Sesshomaru's cold statement grated on her already frayed nerves.

 

“The only person who doesn't use my name is you,” she tapped his chest with her finger and sidestepped him, making her way back into the kitchen. He followed close on her heels.

 

“What did he want?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I don't. I am merely curious.”

 

“Oh yeah? And you were growling because…?” she leaned against the counter bar, hunching her shoulders and looking up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes.

 

“This Sesshomaru does not owe answers to a mix-breed,” he said disdainfully, gesturing at her human ears and eyes.

 

Rolling her eyes, she sighed in exasperation. “Well, this is my house, dog, so don't growl at my neighbors. Even weasels like Nestor.”

 

XxxxxxxxxxxX

 

“You sure you'll be comfortable up here?” Charlotte asked, trying not to giggle at the proud dog demon wearing an oversized tee shirt and boxers of her brother's. Without the long, voluminous sleeves of his haori, his missing arm was painfully obvious but somehow didn't detract from his overall beauty. She'd decided to put him in her room since her brother was staying in her office. She didn't expect him back until sometime tomorrow, but she didn't want to change the sheets.

 

Sesshomaru nodded, doubting he'd be able to sleep with all the ambient noise coming from outside the apartment. Periodically, a rumbling, stuttered sound would descend from above, what she called “helicopters” or a strident bell would blare by below: “sirens”. Countless smaller noises from surrounding rooms seeped through the walls.

 

She'd explained that many people lived in this building, but unlike his mansion, they were not part of a collective household and there was no master. Each set of rooms served as separate houses she didn't even know all of her neighbors! Thankfully, his nose had almost shut down soon after he had arrived; otherwise he was sure that the sheer volume of sensory input would have overwhelmed him.

 

She smiled at him and flicked off the lights. He watched her lithe form descend the stairs, admiring her shape silhouetted by the light from below. Mix-breed or not, she was tolerable company and nice to look at.

 

Once she'd gotten over her surprise at seeing him here, she'd relaxed and they had spent a pleasant evening discussing her world. She had done most of the talking, patiently answering his questions and demonstrating when necessary. “Television” and the “Internet” were still mind-boggling, but he was sure that he would understand eventually. The most disturbing thing about this place was the sheer number of humans to youkai. He didn't believe that Charlotte was the only youkai who lived in the city, but he had to admit that he sensed no other in the near vicinity.

 

He sank into the mattress, savoring her scent on the bedclothes. She'd changed them, but the pillows and mattress had absorbed it. With a twinge of guilt, he realized that by “her bed”, she actually meant the bed that she slept in, not just another bed in her apartment. She had given up her private chamber for him, a great honor for a guest. Maybe he should have invited her to stay…

 

His eyes snapped open in the darkness; he must have dozed off but a small noise had woken him. A soft snick, followed by almost silent footsteps, put his entire body on alert. He tracked the sounds with his sharp hearing, trying to determine whether or not it was the cat walking around. His nose was not much help: he was still having a difficult time processing all of the foreign scents.

 

A shadow passed over the high windows seconds before it landed on the edge of the mattress. With a fierce growl, he tackled it, tumbling them both off the bed and onto the floor, rolling until they hit the railing at the edge of the room. The figure cursed and hissed as it fought back with sharp claws, tearing at his unprotected skin. The sense of another youkai hit him; he brought poison to the tips of his claws and was about to deal a killing blow when the lights blinked on.

 

“Charlie!” Charlotte ran forward, desperate to separate the brawling males. “Sesshomaru, stop!” Snatching up a throw pillow from the pile on the floor, she pummeled them until Sesshomaru leapt off of his opponent. Keeping his claws ready, he eyed the blond male crouched on the floor. Light green eyes glared back at him, golden ears pinned against shoulder-length hair drawn into a messy ponytail.

 

“Charlie!” she shouted, continuing to whack him with the pillow. He cringed away, momentarily distracted from the dog demon glowering at him from the other side of the room. “That. Was. Not. Funny!” the volume of her voice rose to a roar and she punctuated each word with a swipe of the pillow.

 

“But!”

 

“We're not fucking cubs anymore!”

 

She'd stopped hitting him so he tried to mollify her with a little teasing, “You were a kitten, not a cub.”

 

“Damn it,” she threw the pillow at him and planted her hands on her hips. “Aren't you supposed to be out `hoing' or something?”

 

He tossed the pillow aside and got up, dusting off his slacks and shaking his head. “You're right, this city has dried up.” Glancing between Sesshomaru and his sister, he raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you start bringing your men home?”

 

“Charlie,” she protested.

 

He grinned and shrugged, turning to the man with whom he had just been fighting. “Sorry `bout that. Um, so what are you, anyway?” he asked, eyes roving over the silver hair, long pointed ears, and crests.

 

“Lord Sesshomaru, the dog demon I told you about, and he doesn't speak English. Go to bed.”

 

“What's with the arm?”

 

“GO TO BED!” she hollered, pointing down the stairwell. Snickering, Charlie slunk down the stairs as quietly as he'd entered the apartment. Charlotte turned to Sesshomaru, who hadn't moved from his defensive position by the wall. “I'm so sorry, he wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow,” she raised her hands in an apologetic gesture. “And you thought your brother was ignorant.”

 

When he didn't reply, she sighed and picked up the pillow, tossing it onto the pile with the rest of the throw cushions. “Goodnight, again.”