InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Discomfort ( Chapter 40 )

'I'm in hell. I'm really in hell.  I didn't think it'd be possible to be in as much hell as I am right now.  This just . . . damn it . . .'

'Suck it up, Cain.  It's not that bad.'

'What the hell do you mean, it's not that bad?  It's bad, all right.  It's horrible bad . . .'

'She's drunk; that's all.  Just a little drunk.'

'Uh huh . . . That's like saying that the Tower of Pisa is only leaning just a little . . .'

Gin crawled onto the counter, the hem of her dress riding precariously high, as she sought to rummage through the cupboards in her search for something to eat.  Cain grimaced and stood behind her in case she fell.  "Be careful, will you?"

"I have the dexterity of a cat!" she pronounced, holding her arms out as she tiptoed along the counter edge.  "I won't—Eep!"

Cain caught her and shook his head.  "The dexterity of a cat, huh?"

She giggled.  "I fell for you, Cain."

'Hell, I tell you.'

"Will you go get my shoe?"

He sighed.  She'd lost one of her shoes somewhere along the way home.  She hadn't bothered to tell him that, though.  He shook his head.  "It's just a shoe, Gin.  It'll be fine."

"But I liked that shoe.  It matched my dress."

Wincing at the flattening of her ears, Cain carefully straightened the neck of her dress.  "You want to change?  I can run over and get something for you to wear," he offered, setting her back on her feet on the floor.  "Stay off the counters, cat-girl."

Gin shook her head.  "Can't.  Lost my keys."

"You lost your keys?" he repeated.

"Uh huh."

"When did you lose those?"

She shrugged.  "When I lost my shoe."

"Yeah . . . and why didn't you tell me you'd lost your shoe?"

Gin frowned and shuffled over to the sofa, dropping onto it with a hefty grunt.  "I did.  You weren't listening."

He wrinkled his nose.  "I think I'd have known if you said you'd lost your shoe and keys."

"I did," she argued.  "I said, 'Oops'."

He blinked, hands draped on hips as he tried to decide whether or not she was being serious.  She looked serious enough.  She looked . . . Cain cleared his throat and forced his gaze away from Gin, lying prone on the sofa, elbows bent with her hands on either side of her head, her eyes half-closed as she stared at him.  "Yeah, I didn't get that you'd lost your keys from the 'oops'," he grumbled.  "Did you leave your window open?"

She groaned as she sat up.  "Nope.  It was going to rain.  Mama said so; so, I closed the windows."

"Damn it."

Bracing her hands on the edge of the sofa, she leaned forward.  "Don't you want me here, Cain?  Are you going to kick me out?"  Her ears flattened.  "That'd be mean, you know . . ."

He shook his head.  "Of course not.  I just thought I'd get something else for you to wear.  You could wear one of my shirts."

"I like this dress," she countered, rising to her unsteady feet.  "You don't like it?"

"I like it just fine," he assured her.  "It just doesn't look very comfortable."

Gin stared at him for a moment as she twisted a lock of her hair around her finger.  "Dance with me, Cain."

"What?"

She shrugged and let go of her hair.  "Dance with me."

"Here?"

She nodded as she slowly sauntered toward him.  "Here . . . Now . . ."

"There's no music."

"Have a radio?"

"I've not danced in a long time, Gin.  I'd step all over you."

"I'm hanyou.  I'm tough."

He shook his head, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.  "Why do you want to dance with me?"

"Why don't you want to?"

"I never said that."

She smiled.  "Then you'll do it?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he nodded.  "All right.  Let me see if I can find anything on the radio."

'This might be a bad idea,' Cain's youkai mused as he turned on the radio and flipped through the stations.

'Probably.'

'So why'd you say you'd do it?'

Finding a station that was playing something soft and vaguely familiar, Cain turned around and held out a hand toward Gin.  'Because,' he thought as Gin slipped her arms around his neck, 'because she's . . . beautiful.'

"Mmm . . . you dance well."

Cain pulled Gin a little closer and chuckled.  "You do, too, especially for being drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she argued.  "I'm  . . . happy."

"Happy, huh?  Very happy, if you ask me."

"Are you mad at me?  Because I'm . . . 'happy'?"

Cain frowned and leaned back to see her face.  "Why would I be?  How much did you have to drink, anyway?"

Her eyebrows drew together in a marked frown as she considered his question.  "Hmm . . . I only had a few glasses of champagne . . ."

"You're 'happy' off a few glasses of champagne?" he asked dubiously.

"Yeah . . . and that glass of scotch . . ."

"The glass of what?"

"Scotch," she repeated, ears flattening momentarily.  "It burned my throat."

"I'll bet it did," he agreed with a shake of his head.  "That's not a baby girl drink."

She giggled.  "I liked the champagne, though.  It tickled my nose."

He smiled and kissed her forehead.  "I'm sorry about tonight.  I just . . . I wasn't . . . I didn't . . ."

Her fingers on his lips stopped him.  Her eyes were veiled, darkened, and she gazed at him with emotion that he couldn't interpret.  Sad and lost, she could have been a million miles away instead of right there in his arms.  She tried to smile but quickly looked away.  She drew a heavy sigh and shook her head, and he thought for an agonizing moment that she was going to break down and cry.  "It's okay.  I just want to be with you."

"Gin . . ."

This time she did smile—an enigmatic turning of her lips that tore him apart even worse than her tears ever could.  "No, Cain.  I'd rather that you don't say anything than to hear you say something you don't really mean."

"All right," he agreed quietly.  "You, uh . . . You're still my cake fairy?"

Her smile brightened, and she was suddenly the girl he knew so well.  "Yeah.  What would you eat for breakfast, otherwise?"

He nodded, lifting a hand to brush back the errant strands of hair that had escaped her chignon.  "What would I do without you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

Gin shrugged, ducking her head before he could see the blush filter into her cheeks.  He reached up and gently pulled the bobby pins from her hair.  They clinked against the floor as he dropped them, one by one; as Gin's hair tumbled over his fingers, and he closed his eyes.  "Your hair is amazing," he muttered as he opened his eyes again.  "There are a million colors in the strands, did you know?"

"Are there?"

He nodded, bringing a lock of her hair to his lips.  "You looked . . . really . . . beautiful tonight.  I think maybe I forgot to tell you that."

"Cain—"

"No, I need to say this," he insisted.  "I was an ass, and—"

She shook her head.  "No, Cain, I . . ."

Her eyes widened suddenly, and without another word, she wheeled around and ran straight toward the bathroom with her hands smashed over her mouth.  Cain winced then sighed, knowing what he'd find when he caught up with her.

Scotch was definitely not a drink for baby girls . . .

Gin sat on the edge of the closed toilet with her knees together and her feet spread.  Sniffling as she worked the buttons of the oversized shirt Cain had given her to change into after she's vomited all over her dress, she heaved a sigh and flicked her ears since she'd also gotten water in them when she'd taken a quick shower, too.

'How embarrassing . . . I'm never coming out of the bathroom again,' she thought as she slowly shook her head.

'Cain didn't seem to care.  He just seemed upset because you were throwing up,' her youkai pointed out reasonably.

She made a face.  'I shouldn't have gotten up today,' she pouted.  'I should have just stayed in bed where I was safe, and where I'd never tasted scotch . . . If I ever smell it again, I just might throw up . . .'

A soft knock sounded on the door.  Gin hurriedly wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat.  "It's open," she called.

Cain cautiously stuck his head into the bathroom, and after making sure she was fully clothed, he shouldered open the door and stepped inside.  "Here you go," he said gently, handing her a brown paper bag.  "Feeling better?"

"I will," she replied, unable to meet his eyes as she stared at the floor and concentrated on not blushing.  "I just need to brush my teeth, is all."

"I got you the low-foam toothpaste you wanted, and a toothbrush, too."

"Thank you."

"You know, the first time I got drunk, I  . . . I threw up everywhere," he admitted, jamming his hands into his pockets as he leaned back against the doorframe.

"You did?"

He nodded.  "Yep . . . that's why I hate drinking sake now."

"You don't think I'm . . . gross?"

He chuckled.  "No, I don't."

Gin dug the toothpaste out of the bag and winced at the lime green dinosaur on the tube.  Bubble gum flavored toothpaste . . .  She'd always used the same kind, mostly because InuYasha couldn't stand the stronger, mintier flavors.  She hadn't really thought about how babyish it looked till she was staring at the tube in her hands, and the blush she'd been carefully holding back shot to the fore when she pulled out the hot pink plastic Barbie toothbrush next.

"I thought it matched the toothpaste," he said with a strategically placed cough.

Gin's ears flattened as she forced herself to smear toothpaste onto the child's brush.  "It does," she agreed, inflicting as much cheerfulness into her tone as she could muster.  "It's great!"

"Gin?"

She shook her head.  "Leave, please, so I can brush my teeth."

"You have to be alone to do that?"

Gin shrugged.  "You want to see me frothing at the mouth?"

He chuckled.  "Might be worth seeing . . ."

"Get out, Cain!" she insisted.

He laughed and ducked out of the bathroom, quietly pulling the door closed behind himself.

She brushed her teeth longer than usual, but it did the trick.  She felt much better afterward, and she even managed a smile when she looked in the mirror.  Stuffing the toothpaste and toothbrush back into the bag, she tried not to think about why it bothered her that he had bought her a toothbrush that was meant for a child.

'I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it.  He probably did just think it was cute.'

Brushing out her hair, she sniffled and slowly shook her head.  'Yeah, maybe.'

'You don't really think there was more to it than that, do you?  Cain's not mean that way.  He thought you'd find it amusing, I'm sure.'

'Of course he did,' she agreed.  'It was amusing.  He thinks I'm a little girl; that's all . . . even if he says he doesn't.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'I don't know.  I don't know anything, really.'

'You could ask him.'

Gin shook her head.  'No, I can't, and even if I could, we're just friends, right?  Just . . . friends.'

'Okay then, if that's what you want to believe . . . Smile, doll.  Cain doesn't like it when you're sad.'

Drawing a deep breath as she pressed a hand to her stomach and reached for the door handle, Gin straightened her back and shook her hair back.  'Smile . . . I can do that . . .'

Cain was sitting on the sofa.  Gin wandered over and sat down beside him.  "Feel any better?"

She smiled.  "Yes, thanks.  I just needed to brush my teeth.  I'm all better now.  Thanks for the toothbrush and toothpaste."

"Yeah, about the toothbrush . . . You aren't upset with me, are you?"

Gin shook her head.  "No . . . Should I be?"

He turned toward her, rested his elbow on the back of the sofa and propped his temple against his fist.  "You didn't seem very happy about it, and I'm sorry.  I thought you'd think it was cute.  If you want me to, I can go get you a . . . big girl toothbrush."

Gin let her head fall against the back of the sofa and shrugged.  "It's fine.  I wasn't upset."

Cain grimaced.  "You're a terrible liar, baby girl," he informed her, dragging his index finger along the contour of her cheek.

"Cain?  I don't want to drink ever again."

He chuckled.  "No, I don't suppose you do.  Come here."

She let him pull her onto his lap, cradling her head against his heart as she sighed, toying with the lock of hair that had fallen over his shoulder.  "If I asked you to let me do something, would you let me?"

"Depends on what it is."

"I want to touch your stripes."

"You . . . Why?"

"I like them," she replied simply.

Cain frowned.  "I don't think that's a good idea . . ." he drawled.

Gin made a face and sat up.  "Please?  Pretty please?  I'll . . . I'll let you play with my ears," she offered, twitching the appendages right under Cain's nose.

"That's . . . bribery."

"That's right.  So how about it, Zelig Cain.  You wanna touch 'em?"

For a moment she thought he was going to decline.  He sighed and shook his head but his eyes were shining as he slowly reached for one of her ears.

"Ah-ah," she said quickly, flattening her ears before he could touch them.  "I get to see the crests, right?"

He wrinkled his nose.  "You're using me for my crests?"

She started fumbling with his buttons and snorted.  "Of course I am!" she assured him.  "What other reason would there be?"

"I feel so . . . violated."

Gin sighed impatiently, cracking her knuckles just before shredding the front of Cain's shirt in her haste to get to his crests.

"Gin?" he rasped out, gaping at the hanyou, who was staring in spellbound attention at the turquoise stripes that wrapped over his abdomen.

"You're the great and powerful, magnificent, awe-inspiring, ferocious and virile North America tai-youkai, Cain Zelig," she told him, "so suck it up!  You have a hundred shirts in your closet!"

He shook his head and choked out a wheezing sort of breath.  "You ruined . . . Oh, God," he gasped, body jerking involuntarily as she scooted back and leaned down in one fluid movement, her tongue flicking out against his stripes just before she sat up straight with a thorough scowl on her features.

"They should be flavored," she mused.  "Don't you think?"

He looked stunned, and he shook his head, stammering slightly as he tried to form words.

"Cain?"

It was her turn to gasp as Cain sat up, grabbed her shoulders to drag her against him.  His mouth was hot, burning her as he smashed her lips under his.  She could feel his shoulders trembling under her hands, could feel the intensity of his emotions overwhelming her as he nudged her mouth open with his tongue, as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands caressing her sides.

She whimpered quietly, the sound muffled by his mouth.  He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her chin, down her throat.  Sensation overrode her anxiety; and at least for the moment, she knew that he thought she was beautiful, after all.  The erratic pulse of her heart was like a magnet to him.   Suckling the tender flesh of her throat, he moaned.  Gin wrapped her arms around him, unable to do more than to cling to him, to revel in the almost painful throbbing that centered somewhere deep inside her.  She felt like she was going to shatter, to break, but maybe—just maybe—Cain could save her . . .

But the ache grew steadily worse as Cain's touch grew more ardent.  He only had to use one arm to support her, and his free hand . . . The brush of fingertips on delicate shoulders, the tickle of claws canvassing her collarbones, the whisper of a palm gliding over her breast . . . the cotton fabric chafed her, and the heat of the contact between the two of them wrenched a silent sob from the depths of her soul.

His mouth returned to hers, his kiss driven by an invisible need that Gin felt, too.  Her hands fell to his chest, the need to touch him spurring her on.  He unleashed a savage growl, caught her hands in his as his body tensed.  She leaned into him, fingers wrapping around his thumbs, and he moaned as his tongue met hers somewhere in the middle, stroking, delving, searching, scorching.  He pulled his hands away from her grasp; she smashed her hands against his chest . . . It registered in her addled mind that he was moving her.  She felt herself fall back but didn't stop to consider it until the weight of his body covered hers, pinned her against the sofa.  Parting her legs with his knee, the welcome pressure shifted into the consuming need to be closer, much closer, and she arched her back, lifted her hips, grinding her body against as innocence gave way to instinct, and the comforting knowledge that he would know what it was she desperately needed.  The grinding motion helped to alleviate the tension building inside her, but instead of soothing her; it was only making the ache inside her that much worse.

His hands tangled in her hair, holding her head as he kissed her time and again.  He moved against her; a steady cadence that decimated her strained nerves.  A million tiny explosions engulfed her as her body reacted to his.  She felt the swelling rise of something frightening yet beautiful; something that could destroy her or set her free . . .

The click of the answering machine cut through the haze that blanketed Gin's mind.  She hadn't heard the phone ring.

"Daddy?  It's Bellaniece.  Just wanted to call since I hadn't spoken to you today . . . I hope this means you're out among the living instead of closeted away in your studio . . . Anyway, love you, and I'll call again later.  Bye bye!"

Cain grimaced and leaned up to reach over the sofa and smack the answering machine off the table.  It hit the wall with a loud crash and fell to the floor in a pitiful heap of debris.  "Gin, I . . . I need  . . . to . . . stop . . ."

"Cain . . ." she whispered.

He kissed her gently and sighed.  "I know," he answered gruffly, regret coloring his voice though he made no move to sit up.  Letting his forehead drop against hers, he closed his eyes and drew a few ragged breaths.  "I . . . I'm sorry . . . Oh hell, I'm not sorry; I just . . . I wish you weren't drunk."

Gin shook her head, frowning in confusion.  He wasn't making sense at all, and she couldn't control the raging emotions that still twisted around inside her.  "I'm not—"

"Listen, Gin . . . You've never . . . and I can't—"

"It's because of Isabelle, right?"  Gin swallowed hard and tried to push Cain aside.  He didn't budge.  "Because I'm not her?"

Cain didn't move for a moment.  Gin couldn't meet his gaze even though she could feel the intensity of it boring into her head.  With a muffled curse, he pushed off the sofa, stalking around the living room as he raked his hands through his hair in complete exasperation.

Gin winced as he slammed his fist down on the dining table.  It shook and creaked, but didn't break.  "I'm sorry," she murmured.  "I . . . I shouldn't have said—"

"Damn right, you shouldn't have said that!" he bellowed.  Gin grimaced and scrunched up her shoulders as she sat up, pulling her legs up to her chest and trying to make herself as tiny as possible.  "Why in the hell would you say something so fucking stupid?"

"Isn't that it?" she whispered, blinking to stave back the tears that tried to surface.  "Isabelle—"

"Is dead, Gin—dead!  She's been dead for years, and using you to fantasize about her . . . Damn it, what the hell kind of monster do you really think I am?"

Gin shook her head, bit her lip, ears flattening as the volume of his voice escalated.

"Is that what you think?  That I'm with you because you remind me of her?  Is it?"

"I don't . . . I don't know why . . . I don't know anything; not really . . ."

Cain sighed and dragged his hand over his face.  Gin could feel the anger draining out of him, and though she didn't understand why, she did understand that he hadn't really been angry at her, in the first place.

'You hurt him, doll.  Your question . . . You've got to know how hard it is for him to open up to anyone.'

Gin choked back a sob and hurriedly wiped away the single tear that had managed to escape.  "I'm sorry," she told him again. "Cain, I . . ."

He stared at her for several moments then strode over and sat beside her.  "It's not like that, Gin . . . I shouldn't . . . I'm not supposed to feel this way about you, and for the record?  You're nothing like Isabelle.  You're not meant to be.  You're you, and that's fine with me."

"But," she began, shaking her head, "then why did you stop?"

"You don't know?"

She shook her head again.

He smoothed her hair out of her face, wiped the last trace of tears from her cheek.  "You've never done . . . anything . . . before, and I would be a monster if it had been while you were drunk and for the wrong reasons.  Can you understand that?"

She thought it over and jerked her head 'yes'.  "I didn't mean to hurt you," she told him.

Cain smiled just a little, his expression almost sad.  They sat in silence for several long moments, each of them wrapped up in thoughts of their own, but finally, he stood up and held out his hand, waiting for her.  "Come on, baby girl.  It's been a long day.  You'll feel better in the morning—unless you're hung over, that is . . ."

Gin slowly reached out, slipped her hand into his and let him lead the way to the bedroom.