InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Fortune Cookies ( Chapter 13 )

~~Chapter 13~~

~Fortune Cookies~

 

 

 

“Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?”

 

Gavin peeked up from an email he was working on. His boss had misplaced one of Gavin's files, and Gavin had spent the better part of the morning trying to explain to him how to retrieve the file, all via email.

 

He lifted an eyebrow before turning his attention back to his task. “Am I?”

 

Jillian nodded as she stepped over to the desk, setting a box on the corner.

 

“What's that?” he asked without glancing at her again.

 

“I don't know,” she admitted. “It's from Evan.”

 

He stopped; fingers poised over the keypad, and shot the box a distrustful look. “Is it a bomb?”

 

She laughed. “You really think Evvie would send you a bomb?”

 

“Well, it's too small to be one of his groupies,” he allowed.

 

“Open it!”

 

Chuckling since he had half a mind to leave the box alone just to drive Jillian insane, Gavin leaned back in the groaning old chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't know, Jilli,” he began slowly. “I think I'll open it later.”

 

She snorted and slapped his arm playfully. “You will not!” she exclaimed.

 

“Packages from Evan are scary,” he stated.

 

She grabbed his hand and wrapped her hands around his fingers, holding his hand so that his index finger was extended. He laughed as she used his claw to slit the stringy tape that was wrapped around the box. “Oh, look! You changed your mind! Now what'd he send?”

 

“Dunno, Jilli. You tell me.”

 

Giggling as she pulled the nondescript brown paper away from the box, she used her own claw to slice through the next layer of tape. A note rested atop the contents, and Jillian handed it to him impatiently before delving into the package once more.

 

Unfolding the paper, Gavin read the note.

 

:

 

`Gavvie,

 

`Sorry I missed your birthday. Hopefully these make up for that.

 

`Ev.'

 

:

 

“Fortune cookies!” Jillian announced happily. “You're going to share, right?”

 

He wrinkled his nose as he snatched the plastic wrapped cookie out of Jillian's hand. “Think again, Jilli. These are mine.” He nodded at the smaller box that Jillian had left on the coffee table. “What's that?”

 

“It's for me.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Then why didn't you open it?”

 

With a flash of the dimples that left Gavin staring for a moment, Jillian giggled. “Because I wanted to see what he sent you, silly!”

 

“He sent you that?”

 

She nodded as she opened the package with a razor sharp claw and pulled out a note.

 

:

 

`Jilli,

 

`Here's a cookie for you since Gavin'll probably hog all of his.

 

`Love,

 

`Evvie.'

 

:

 

“See? Eat your own and leave mine alone,” he told her.

 

She frowned at him, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “But he only sent me one,” she pouted.

 

“Tough cookies, Jilli,” he shot back.

 

She wrinkled her nose. “Listen, mister, I've met your mama, and I refuse to believe that she never taught you how to share.”

 

“I'm an only child . . . what is there to have to share?” he countered with an unrepentant grin.

 

“But you know I love fortune cookies,” she argued.

 

“And you know that these are my present,” he retorted as a curt knock sounded on the front door.

 

“Gav-vie!”

 

“Jil-li!”

 

“Fine, fine . . . be stingy . . . see if I care . . .”

 

He laughed at her obvious lie as she wandered off to see who was knocking.

 

“Hey, Gavin . . . I got a better look at the trucks.”

 

Setting the box on the coffee table, Gavin turned his attention to the young man. “Oh?”

 

“Looks like the starter is fried in the blue truck,” Cody said, wiping his greasy hands on a work rag as he followed Jillian into the house. “There're a few other issues, too, and it's been sitting so long it might not run right without replacing a few other things. The tires are dry-rotted but they're okay for a little while . . . You sure you don't want to just junk that truck?”

 

“Can you fix it?” Gavin asked quietly as Jillian grabbed a new copy of Energee magazine off the coffee table along with her lonely little fortune cookie and headed for the sliding glass doors.

 

Cody shrugged. “Well, yeah . . . just take a bit of time, and a lot of parts, maybe.” He grimaced since he likely believed he was costing himself a job. “It's just . . . when a vehicle sits that long, things go bad, and if certain things lock up, then it could ruin the entire engine if you try to start it without knowing. It'd be less hassle to junk it—and maybe less money, too.”

 

Gavin nodded. “What about the other truck? The black one?”

 

“Well, that one just has a problem with the fuel lines, I think. Shouldn't be too tough to fix it. Could pull the lines and redo it with one of those hybrid systems. It'd be more cost effective in the long run, and they don't seem too hard to put in.” He grimaced. “I've never done that, myself, but I've read up on it, and I've got a cousin in Helena who has. He said it was pretty simple.”

 

“And that one would be easier to fix?”

 

“Sure . . . Hank said that truck's just been sitting for a month or so.”

 

“Tell you what . . . figure out how much it'll cost to fix the blue truck and give me the estimate for parts and whatnot—at least the parts you know it needs. The black truck . . . you fix it up on your own time, and you can have it.”

 

“Come again?”

 

Gavin grinned. “It's got the bench seat in the back, right? You need something to get your wife and daughters wherever they need to go, don't you? Besides, most of the guys here have their own trucks, so it isn't a big deal. If you want the truth, I was just going to get rid of one of them, anyway.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Not like it's the nicest looking vehicle . . . and what would you do if something happened? You need a vehicle, right?”

 

Cody broke into a hesitant grin. “Okay . . . thanks.”

 

Gavin nodded, turning the laptop computer on the coffee table since the late afternoon sunlight was reflecting off the monitor. “You're welcome.”

 

“It'll cost more if you buy your parts at the store,” he commented. “I know a few guys who own junkyards . . . I'll be I could get most of the parts there. They'd cost a lot less, I'm sure. They'd just make me get them, myself.”

 

“Make a few calls and see what you can come up with,” Gavin suggested. “If you order the new fuel system for the other truck, I'll pick it up when it's ready.”

 

“Hey, Gav, got a minute?” Hank asked as he strode into the house.

 

Gavin leaned back to peer around Cody. “Sure . . . why?”

 

“I'll get back to work,” Cody mumbled as he headed for the door.

 

Hank pulled off his Stetson and wiped his forehead on his arm. “Couple cows got loose in the west field. Reeks of coyotes, and another cow was brought down, too . . .”

 

“And the cows that got loose?”

 

Hank sighed. “Tangled in a fence. One'll have to be put down, but we might be able to save the other.”

 

Gavin sighed, too, closing out the email he'd been looking at. “Give me a minute, will you?”

 

“'Kay,” Hank said.

 

The chime announced the arrival of another email, and Gavin grimaced. Dragging a hand over his face as he hovered the cursor over the email, he braced himself for whatever might be contained therein as the rustle of plastic registered in his mind in a vague sort of way.

 

:

 

`Okay, Jillian. I've been very patient, don't you think? Very calm, very good . . . but I'm getting irritated. You know that we cannot go on like this. I've let you play your little games. I want you to know, though, that you'd better be home by your birthday. I have special plans for us—very special plans. You don't want to miss it, do you?'

 

:

 

Gavin stifled a low growl. At least this email didn't have a picture attached to it. Still, the subtle threat was enough to set his teeth to grinding, and Gavin closed out the program before closing the lid of the laptop. He hated the feeling that he was lying to Jillian about the reason why they were in Montana, but the idea of telling her that some deranged psychopath was stalking her was completely out of the question. He felt like they were sitting ducks, and he loathed that, too. He'd spent far too much of his life protecting Jillian. Staying here while Bas and Gunnar tried to track down the bastard . . . well, it was enough to drive him crazy . . .

 

Hank's indelicate coughing interrupted Gavin's reverie. Blinking to dispel the lingering thoughts that plagued him, Gavin's eyebrows knitted together as he cautiously eyed his foreman.

 

“Oh, damn . . . This is the best fortune cookie I've ever gotten,” Hank drawled with undisguised amusement lighting his gaze.

 

“What?” Gavin growled.

 

Hank cleared his throat, holding the broken cookie in one hand and the tiny slip of paper—his fortune—in the other. “`The Great Oracle says, `Stop dicking around and dick Jilli—'”

 

“Give me that!” Gavin snarled, snatching the fortune out of Hank's hand. He could feel his face flaming, and he stifled a groan as he jammed the paper into his pocket before turning a murderous glower on Hank once more.

 

“I'd be more than happy to make that fortune come true,” Hank commented.

 

Gavin took a swing at him. Hank ducked out of the way, his grin widening. “The hell you will!”

 

“Yeah, but you said that you're not interested, right?” Hank pointed out.

 

“Yeah, well, neither are you!”

 

The miscreant had the gall to laugh. “Oh, I think I am . . .”

 

“Forget it,” Gavin snarled, “and stay out of my cookies.”

 

“Your cookies?”

 

Gavin snorted, stomping over to shove Hank toward the door. “Yes, my cookies.”

 

Hank chuckled but let Gavin push him along. “So that was your fortune?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“You gonna do it?”

 

“No!”

 

Shaking his head, Hank sighed as he reached for the doorknob. “You're pathetic, Gav; I swear to God you are.”

 

“Get out, Hank!”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Hank agreed. “You want me to take care of the cattle?”

 

“Yes, you do that,” Gavin growled impatiently.

 

Hank shot him a glance then chuckled yet again. “Nice shade of red, Gavvie. Clashes with your shirt, though.”

 

Gavin didn't deign to respond to that. Giving Hank another shove, he slammed the door and pivoted on his heel, stomping over to snatch the box of cookies off the coffee table. `Figures . . . bet Evan's having a damn good laugh over this . . .' he fumed as he headed upstairs with the box to hide them until he had time to look at the God-forsaken fortunes Evan had so obviously planted. He was a friend, sure—one of the few people that Gavin really would consider to be a friend. He supposed he had it coming since Gavin and Evan tended to do little things to pick at one another. Still . . . He sighed. `Evan's going to get it this time; I swear he is . . .'

 

It never occurred to him that he'd be better off to throw the cookies out.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“He swears he's not my mate, but he is . . .”

 

Natalie Jamison paused with a wooden spoon in her hand poised just above the hearty stew she was stirring and sighed as Jillian's words sounded in her ears. Ever since the two had come over for dinner a few nights ago, she'd been thinking about them.

 

How could she not? It seemed to her that Gavin had found his mate—everything about the way he took care of Jillian; the way he made sure she never wanted or needed a thing bespoke it. She could tell just from spending a precious few hours with them that their bond was real, and that it wasn't simply a bond of friendship. True, she was a little biased. What mother wouldn't want her son to be mated to the daughter of the North American tai-youkai? That aside, though, she could tell that there really was something between Jillian and Gavin, no matter what her stubborn son might say.

 

She sighed. The trouble was that Gavin, bless him, had always been a little too much like his father. Moe had been reluctant to ask her to become his mate in the beginning. He was proud of what he did, surely. Protecting humans as well as youkai—that was Moe's job—his calling, really, but Moe's reticence might have had something to do with Natalie's upbringing. Raised in the sultry heat of Louisiana in the late nineteenth century, she guessed she really had been the quintessential Southern Belle, and Moe . . . She smiled. The first time she'd laid eyes on Moe Jamison, she'd known. He'd been in the area on a hunt, and she'd been trying to escape a garden party—the first one of that summer, if memory served—and she'd very literally run smack into him as she darted out the wrought-iron gates. She'd spent the day with him—rather ridiculous since she'd been wearing hideously huge hoops under her skirts at the time, and she must have stood out like a sore thumb. Moe tended to dress in whatever was best to blend into the surroundings, and there she'd been in a bright yellow silk and lace confection more suited to the garden party she'd escaped than for following Moe all over the more unsavory areas of New Orleans . . .

 

Natalie sighed. Moe had resisted her from the start. He'd been so chagrined when he had discovered that she was following him that he'd looked as though he wanted to shake some sense into her. She'd kissed him, instead, but that only seemed to cement his ambivalence, and there were more than a few times when she'd been angry enough that she wanted to scream. Always more concerned with the idea of asking her to accept the fact that he was one of Cain Zelig's top youkai hunters, the man had given the word `obstinate' a whole new meaning, and it seemed to her that Gavin might well be following in his father's footsteps.

 

If only she could figure out why . . .

 

And maybe Jillian reminded Natalie of herself. She'd heard the lighthearted banter that Jillian and Gavin shared, and yet she'd seen it, hadn't she? The sense of longing in Jillian's gaze whenever Gavin wasn't looking at her . . . Natalie had felt that same sort of desperation often enough, herself, and maybe that was the real reason she believed Jillian's softly spoken words . . .

 

Moe wandered into the kitchen and slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he glanced down at the simmering contents of the stew kettle. “Mm, smells good,” he remarked as he turned his head and buried his nose against her neck.

 

She laughed. “You're not talking about dinner, are you?”

 

“That, too,” he agreed.

 

Natalie rolled her eyes but smiled. “Moe . . .” she began before he could succeed in sidetracking her.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Bending her head as she lifted her shoulder to thwart the man who obviously had other things on his mind, Natalie sighed, willing herself to concentrate on the bigger picture. “I think . . . you should go talk to Gavin.”

 

That stopped him abruptly, and he sighed, straightening his back though he didn't let go of her. “Don't meddle.”

 

“I'm his mother. It's my job to meddle, Morris Jamison.”

 

He grimaced at the use of his full name. “That's not really going to help, don't you think?”

 

“No, I don't think. What I think is that he's being stubborn and pig-headed for no good reason.”

 

“`Stubborn' and `pig-headed' mean the same thing, Nat.”

 

She turned around to wave the spoon under his nose. “And don't think that I don't realize that you're just trying to change the subject.”

 

He grinned rather self-consciously—another expression that looked exactly the same on her son's face, too. “Was I being that obvious?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The grin widened. “Did it work?”

 

“No.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“Moe . . .”

 

He winced, realizing that she was changing tactics on him since the chiding didn't seem to be working. The chiding he could have dealt with, she supposed, but he couldn't stand up against her cajoling, and she knew it. “Natalie . . .”

 

“What if he really is her mate?” she asked, getting right to the point.

 

“He says he isn't.”

 

“He says a lot of things, and he might well believe it, too . . . but what if he really is? What if he's already accepted her somewhere deep down and just doesn't realize it because he doesn't want to? Do you remember how unhappy he was when she ran off with Evan to New York City without so much as a `kiss my ass'?”

 

His grin resurfaced. “I love it when you say bad words, Nattie.”

 

Natalie rolled her eyes. “I'm being serious, Moe . . . Do you remember?”

 

“Damn near flunked out of college . . . hell, yes, I remember.”

 

She relented just a little, satisfied that he did, indeed, recall. “You know how mates are . . . he wasn't affected then because he wasn't old enough to be—or maybe because she wasn't. Thing is, he would be this time. If Jillian leaves him again because he's trying to drive her away—”

 

“Nat . . .”

 

“Do you remember when Gavin was trying to teach himself how to ride his bicycle?”

 

Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. “I'd hardly compare this to that . . .”

 

She pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, well . . . he wouldn't let you help him then, and he was only four years old . . . He stayed outside until nearly midnight, and then he was so angry . . . so mad at himself for not being able to ride that damn bike . . .”

 

“I know.”

 

“Moe . . . this is a lot bigger than not being able to teach himself how to ride his bicycle.”

 

“I know,” he repeated.

 

“Do you? Do you really? If he's lying to himself—”

 

Moe sighed again and stepped away, scratching the back of his neck in his thoughtful sort of way. “All right; all right. You made your point. I'll go talk to him, but I don't know what good it's going to do. You know Gavin. If I push him, he's going to be even more set against it, just because . . . kind of like his mama.”

 

“Oh, really . . .? So I was the one who kept saying that you weren't good enough for me?”

 

He blushed but shot her a wan grin. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he teased.

 

She snorted and rolled her eyes, waving the wooden spoon under his nose again. “He's just like you, you know,” she complained.

 

“Like me?”

 

“Yes . . . stubborn as a horse's—”

 

“Okay, I'm going,” Moe broke in, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

 

Finally breaking into a smile, Natalie slipped her arms around Moe's neck and pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Moe-Moe . . . and after dinner, I have a special something for you.”

 

He snorted, cheeks pinking as she trailed teasing kisses along his jaw-line and down his throat. “Y-yeah?”

 

“Yeah . . . but you have awhile before dinner. Why don't you go talk to Gavin now?”

 

Grunting in response since he didn't really want to do any such thing, Moe Gave in with a curt nod. “I can't if you're doing that,” he pointed out.

 

Natalie kissed him one last time and stepped back. He shot her a long-suffering look as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and headed out of the room. As much as he hated to confront his son over this, Natalie had a point. Gavin had a habit of being far too serious and far too stubborn for his own good.

 

He just hoped that his son wasn't doing the proverbial biting off his nose to spite his face now . . .

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~ =~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

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Reviewers

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Kurisu no Ryuujin:

Another great chapter, sorry I haven't reviewed in a while, but I was curious, since you have stated that Purity will run through 12 is that all you will do with it or will you continue with another name for them if you do. Also, is the Guardian considered by you to be a part of the Purity series? or no

 

Purity 12 will be the last numberedPurity … And no,The Guardian was something I wrote a long time ago; my take on the InuYasha/Sesshoumaru relationship…

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Acheronlover:

I can't believe Jillian convinced Gavin to hire that guy. It was very sweet of her, and kind of Gavin to hire him. I also have a question that I'm sure many people have been asking, but its been bugging me ever since you wrote that chapter about Evan. Are he and Madison mates? They seem to be more than just "friends with benefits". Evan said that he wanted her with him, and Madison seems to follow where ever Evan goes. Plus, they have been sleeping together for years, so that implies that they seem more serious than they admit. So, are they mates? Have they never really committed to each other because Evan is an idiot & won't stay faithful to Madison? Please, tell me, I'm dying to have this question answered!

 

Jillian can convince Gavin to do just about anything … lol … and Gavin is fundamentally a good guy, so yes, of course he hired Cody! As for Evan and Madison? Hmmm … hmmmmmm …. Hmmmmmmmmmmm …The answer (you'll have to wait until Purity 9: Subterfuge) may surprise you …

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MMorg

OROsan0677 ------ artemiswaterdragon ------ inuyashaloverr ------ futekioosha ------ Inuyoukaimama (yes, yes, you ARE the bad!beta! LOL!) ------ angelfire777 ------ fallenangel7583 (If you don't wish to read the story, that's fine … I'm just not exactly sure how to take your review …There is, however, a nice family tree posted both in the Sueric Fanfiction forum as well as on the Purity pages of the website should you need help with keeping everyone straight … lol …)

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Forum Reviews

cutechick18 ------ cjflutterbye ------ zorioko ------ OROsan0677 ------- TenshiKaika ------ Piett ------ gin-hayashi85 ------ Firedemon86 ------ My Own Self ------ liltweety ------ Jack-plus-Sally ------ RogueDestiny

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Final Thought fromMoe:

…Why do I have to do this …?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~