InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Business as Usual ( Chapter 73 )

~~Chapter 73~~

~Business as Usual~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Isabelle yawned and arched her back to stretch before she opened her eyes and smiled. The room was empty, not that it surprised her, but she could hear movements in the distance and knew without glancing at the clock that Griffin hadn't yet left for work.

 

`So get up and go greet your mate, Bitty,' her youkai voice remarked rather dryly.

 

`Hmm, I think I will!'

 

Tossing the blankets back, she paused for a moment as another wide yawn garnered her full attention, and when she opened her eyes, she smiled as Griffin stepped into the room. “Ah, just the man I was hoping to see,” she teased.

 

His scowl only made her laugh, and she reached out, wiggling her fingers when he held up a steaming mug of coffee. “Y-you sleep . . . all right?” he asked, his eyes shifting around the room in a nervous sort of way.

 

Isabelle wrapped her hands around the mug and breathed in deep, savoring the scent of the freshly brewed beverage. “Mhmm,” she intoned, sipping the coffee with her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her face. “Thank you.”

 

He grunted tersely and fidgeted around like he was running late. `Waiting for his morning kiss,' she thought with a secretive little smile that he didn't see. “So . . . what are the odds I could convince you to stay home with me today?” she drawled.

 

“I'd rather be there,” he muttered, and she didn't have to look to know that he was blushing.

 

With a very pronounced snort, he tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. “You, uh . . . n-n-notice anything? A-anything at all?”

 

“I noticed that my bed was empty when I woke up,” she pouted.

 

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head, sending his shaggy hair that he'd carefully combed back cascading down into his face. “Anything else?”

 

She smiled. “I noticed that you get sexier every single time I look at you,” she quipped.

 

He heaved a sigh and shook his head as he turned away to leave, though not before she could make out the tell-tale tinge of what promised to be a quite livid blush creeping over his features. “Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stomped toward the door.

 

Isabelle thumped the cup of coffee aside, sloshing the liquid up over the side as she tossed the blankets aside and scooted off the bed. “Where's my morning kiss?” she complained as she hurried after Griffin.

 

He snorted loudly but didn't break his stride as he moved through the house toward the foyer. “Forget it, Jezebel. I'm on to you,” he muttered, jabbing his left foot into his shoe.

 

“Hmm,” she pouted, crossing her arms and leaning against the frame of the doorway as she tried not to smile. “But—”

 

“No `buts',” he interrupted with a firm shake of his head. “I'm late.”

 

She rolled her eyes, the smile she'd been fighting slipping out of her despite her efforts otherwise. “You're not late, Griffin Marin,” she chided. “You're never late.”

 

“I am this time,” he grumbled, shaking his head stubbornly as he jerked open the door, adjusting his grip on his attaché case. “Stay out of trouble.”

 

She hurried to him and brushed a chaste kiss over his cheek before stepping back and watching him go. The smile that she'd been wearing since she'd opened her eyes faded. Something was bothering him, wasn't it? She just wasn't sure what that could possibly be.

 

`Think about it, Bitty,' her youkai voice chimed in as she stood in the open doorway and watched Griffin walk away. `Why did he ask you if you'd noticed anything?'

 

Isabelle frowned as she pushed the front door closed and turned the deadbolt out of habit. After Alastair Gregory's unceremonious appearance, Griffin had insisted that she keep the door locked whenever he wasn't home, and since the memory of that awful day was far too vivid in her mind, she felt compelled to oblige.

 

So just what was it that he wanted her to notice, anyway?

 

Shuffling through the house, she frowned as she took her time, looking around at all the familiar surroundings, trying to discern any sort of change that might have prompted Griffin's odd question but seeing nothing different at all.

 

Even the bedroom was exactly the same. Odd, wasn't it? Nothing had changed, had it?

 

“What am I missing, Charlie?” she murmured as she took her time shaking out the blankets and making the bed.

 

The dog lifted his head off his paws and cocked his head to the side, as though he were pondering Isabelle's question. After a moment, he gave a low whine and thumped his tail against the floor. The movement caught the half-drowsing cat's eye, and she reached out a lazy paw in a token attempt to swat at it.

 

Isabelle couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped her as she slowly shook her head. As much as Griffin liked to complain about the animals, he was the one who had stopped on his way home one afternoon to purchase the large plaid dog bed and matching pillow for the cat, and he was the one who had arranged both in the corner of their bedroom, too . . .

 

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Isabelle picked up the coffee mug off the nightstand and padded toward the doorway. She needed a refill, but before she got that, she needed to clean up the drops of coffee that had sloshed out of the cup in her haste to run after Griffin.

 

“You, uh . . . n-n-notice anything? A-anything at all?”

 

“Notice anything, huh . . .?” she muttered to herself as she dug a clean dish cloth out of the drawer beside the sink and flicked on the tap with her free hand. “Notice . . . what . . .?”

 

Shoving the cloth under the water, Isabelle blinked and stopped, her eyes flaring wide as the cloth dropped from her fingers with a dull, wet, squishy sound. Her gasp was louder than the flow of water, and her hand was shaking as she slowly lifted it, splaying her fingers as she gaped, drop-mouthed, at the glistening ring on her finger.

 

“Kami . . .” she breathed, her brain slowing to a crawl as she shook her head and tried to make sense of it. “It's a . . .?”

 

`Go ahead,' her youkai prompted gently. `Say it . . .'

 

But she couldn't. Staring at the brilliant platinum circlet with the insular diamond that winked at her in the light of the sun shining through the window, she could only stare, hardly daring to believe exactly what it meant. “Oh . . .”

 

`It's an engagement ring, Bitty.'

 

`Well, it . . . but . . . but he didn't . . . ask me . . .'

 

Her youkai sighed. `Isabelle . . . Griffin's not good with words, and you know it. Maybe . . . maybe he is asking—in his own way.'

 

Biting her lip, she smiled. How often over the past few weeks had he acted like he wanted to say something, and at the time, she hadn't noticed? Now she did, of course. How many times had he started to ask her questions only to end up blurting out something completely arbitrary and almost silly? Had he really been trying that hard to ask her to marry him . . .?

 

Her smile faltered but didn't disappear as a sheen of moisture blurred her vision, as she clasped her hands and cradled the ring against her heart. That was exactly what he'd been trying to do, wasn't it? He'd tried so hard, and in the end, he'd done it the only way he'd known how . . .

 

`The thing is, he deserves an answer, don't you think?'

 

`As if he doesn't know that I'll say yes!' she scoffed, her grin widening as she held out her hand to examine the gorgeous ring once more.

 

`Even still, you need to tell him, don't you? And the sooner, the better, I say!'

 

Leaning against the counter, Isabelle considered her youkai's advice. `The sooner the better, huh . . .?'

 

`Yes,' she decided with a little laugh. `I think that's an absolutely fabulous idea . . .'

 

 

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“There are marked differences between the two dialects that might seem insignificant but impact the overall meaning of some key phrases, so a rudimentary understanding of those variances is important, especially when . . .”

 

Trailing off when the door in the back of the lecture hall clicked closed, Griffin frowned. The person who had slipped in wasn't causing trouble, exactly, but the brush of an entirely too familiar youki stopped him dead as his chin snapped up, as he located her in a matter of moments. Settling unobtrusively in a vacant chair in the back of the hall beside a young man who couldn't quite seem to keep his eyes off her, Isabelle didn't look at Griffin, opting instead to lean toward the student and whispering something that was lost in the span of space between them.

 

The rest of the class, though, noticed Griffin's pause, and as a result, a number of them turned to look, trying to see what, exactly, had interrupted the lecture. Clearing his throat, Griffin struggled to regain his composure, fought to remember what he'd been talking about just moments before. Why was it that Isabelle could have that great of an effect on him? And just why the hell was she there, anyway . . .?

 

`Maybe she noticed the ring,' his youkai voice piped up.

 

The reminder was enough to draw a livid flush from him, and he snorted inwardly. `Hardly. The world could collapse around her, and she'd be the last one to notice.'

 

`You're just sore because she didn't notice it before you left for work. Need I remind you that I told you it was a bad idea? You should have just swallowed your pride and did things the old fashioned way, you know.'

 

`Shut up,' Griffin growled, unconsciously adjusting the collar of the nondescript light blue button down shirt he'd picked out this morning. It felt a little tight—something that he'd never noticed before.

 

Licking his lips, he tried to force his attention off Isabelle and what she was doing. Hunched over, her right shoulder was moving in such a way that he knew she was writing something. The student beside her was making no bones about watching her, and, rolling his eyes, Griffin cleared his throat again and knocked on the podium in a vain effort to regain a semblance of order. “A rudimentary understanding of those variances is of utmost importance when one seeks to translate the ancient texts since one phrase can drastically alter . . .”

 

He stopped abruptly when Isabelle finally looked up, a radiant smile on her face. She winked at him and held up a paper with one word written on it—one word that took up the whole page, and she mouthed that word as he blinked and flushed and slowly shook his head.

 

`Yes,' she'd said—she'd written. Yes . . .?

 

A choking sort of sound escaped him as he stared at that bit of paper. She shook it to emphasize her point, a peal of her soft laughter reaching him, soothing the edges of his acute embarrassment in the same gentle way that she accomplished anything in her life, and for the briefest of moments, he couldn't help but smile just a little before the harsher reality of the situation intruded once more. Everyone in the lecture hall was staring, either at her or worse, at him.

 

“C-class dismissed,” he rasped out in a voice that didn't sound at all like himself.

 

The students were slow to react. As though they didn't quite trust his abrupt dismissal, they hesitated, whispering to each other as they lingered in gathering their things together. It seemed like it took forever for them to shoulder their bags, to file out of the hall. He didn't miss the numerous glances, the questioning looks that were surreptitiously cast his way. Isabelle sat back in her seat, a demure if not completely magnificent smile illuminating her gaze—her very being.

 

It wasn't until the last of the students filed out of the room that she made to stand up, smoothing the light tan, ankle length crushed cotton peasant skirt that flicked out in a flirt of motion with every step she took. “Did I ever tell you how fucking hot I always thought you were while you stood up there and gave your lectures?” she asked, her voice resounding in his ears like thunder despite her quiet tone of voice.

 

Griffin blushed but shook his head, mesmerized by the very sight of her as she slowly, slowly wandered down the raised platforms, her fingertips trailing lightly over the seats and bench tables.

 

She laughed. “Why do you think I minored in ancient linguistics, Dr. Marin?” she teased, her words punctuated with a throaty laugh. “I'd have read the back of a cereal box if you'd told me to, you know.”

 

“N-not very interesting,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as she clasped her left hand in her right one and stared at the ring he'd put on her finger in the night. “I-I guess you . . . you found it.”

 

“Oh, I did,” she agreed, stepping off the lowest platform and continuing to sashay toward him. “Does this mean you want to marry me?” she went on, her eyebrows disappearing under the thick cover of bangs that surrounded her face.

 

Griffin cleared his throat, shuffling his feet in a nervous affectation that he couldn't quite control. “Well . . . I figured . . . if I'm going to be a martyr, I might as well . . .”

 

She laughed again as she stopped before him, her eyes dancing with a suspect brightness that he didn't dare lend credence to. Her lips were trembling despite the smile that still graced her features, and it only widened with the first tear that slipped from the corner of her eye, trailing a painfully slow course down the unmarred smoothness of her cheek, and his gaze skittered to the side. Unable to look at her—unable to bear it if she were to see just how frightened he really was deep down, he stared at the ceiling, at the wall—at the cold marble floor beneath his feet—anywhere as long as he didn't have to look at her . . . “I love you; did you know?” she whispered, her words cracked and broken by the conflicting emotion.

 

“Uh . . . I-Isa . . . belle . . .” he replied with a shake of his head. It didn't make sense, did it? Tears . . .? He could smell them, damn it, and even if he couldn't, his youki was so attuned to hers, he'd have known, anyway. She . . . she wasn't supposed to cry . . . Turning his face away, gritting his teeth, he couldn't help the slight grimace that flickered over his features before he could school them to blankness. “For-for-forget it,” he stammered. “It was a . . . a dumb idea . . . That damn Attean . . . He said . . . Never mind . . .”

 

“You'd better marry me quick, Griffin Marin,” she interrupted as she slipped her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. “I've been waiting for you long enough.”

 

`She . . . she just . . . she really . . .?'

 

With a sudden bark of laughter, she leaned up, kissing his face a hundred times, giggling quietly as she snuggled ever-closer. With a longsuffering sigh designed to let her know just how put out he was over the entire debacle, he slipped his arms around her and stood still, letting her shower him with affection, even if he never would quite understand why she felt the way she did. A slow sense of relief ebbed through him, leaving him feeling a little weak in the knees, and while he didn't quite dare to lend words to the thoughts that were tumbling around in his head, he couldn't help but feel as though Isabelle really could fix anything . . .

 

Turning her head slightly, she tugged him down, her eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her lips against his. All it took was that one connection to set off a chain reaction that shot through him with a voracious abandon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a voice telling him that what they were doing was entirely inappropriate, given that he was still in the middle of the lecture hall, and yet it didn't seem to matter, either.

 

Beautiful, she was, and she always had been. From the day she'd walked into his life with her jewel-like eyes and ready smile that she had no qualms about sharing with everyone and everything around her, he'd been caught, hadn't he, like a moth to a flame, and maybe he'd spent far too long fighting every single emotion that could have been considered good or pure that he simply didn't have anything left to resist her.

 

There was nothing ugly or tainted about the emotions now. Swirling like a living thing, calling out to him in a voice so clear, so welcoming that he simply couldn't fight it, he shivered when her fingers sank into his hair, shuddered when her lips opened to his, as their kiss deepened, blossomed, swelled . . .

 

Even the sound of rather pointed throat clearing took a moment to make sense in Griffin's mind. When it did, though, he gasped, jerking upright as his gaze flew over Isabelle's head to lock with another of the university's professors, who was standing just inside the door looking entirely uncomfortable.

 

“D-dr. Marin, uh . . . could I have a word with you . . .?” Mike Jenkins asked, jerking his head to indicate that he'd like to have that word outside.

 

“Uh, oh . . . err, y-yeah,” Griffin stammered, carefully pushing Isabelle's hands aside. To her credit, she didn't seem to realize that someone had come in, and he shook his head, unable to keep the telling blush off his features as he stepped back and licked his lips. “You stay here,” he instructed in a quiet aside.

 

Isabelle blinked, having finally noticed Professor Jenkins, and to Griffin's dismay, she wiggled her fingers in a jaunty `hello' then pushed herself onto the plain table that had been set up beside the podium.

 

Closing his eyes as he heaved an inward sigh, Griffin followed Jenkins into the hallway, taking his time in pulling the door closed before he slowly turned to face the professor.

 

“Um, Griffin . . .” Jenkins began, looking as uncomfortable as Griffin felt, given the situation. “Far be it for me to . . . criticize or to, um, p-pry into your personal affairs, you do know, right? There's, uh, shall we say, a code of ethics that we, as professors, are responsible to uphold.”

 

“Yes?” Griffin replied with a shake of his head since he wasn't entirely sure what Jenkins was implying.

 

The smaller man's face reddened significantly. “That is to say, we aren't allowed to . . . fraternize . . . with the students, you see?”

 

“Fra . . .?” Griffin began, but trailed off.

 

Jenkins looked even more distressed. “I really don't want to turn you in, but I-I-I—”

 

“Oh, I'm not a student,” Isabelle said from behind them. Griffin grimaced. He hadn't heard her follow. “I'm his fiancée—Dr. Isabelle Izayoi . . . and while I used to be one of Griffin's students years ago, I can assure you that I'm not one now.”

 

The perplexed look on Jenkin's face faltered then suddenly exploded as his eyes widened, all the color draining out of his face in an instant only to shoot right back to the surface as he somewhat limply took the hand that Isabelle had offered and shook it. “I'm so sorry!” he blurted, taking a step back in retreat as he crossed his arms over his chest in a decidedly nervous sort of way. “I didn't know . . . D-dr. Marin, I apologize!”

 

Isabelle giggled as the professor muddled through the rest of his apology. “What a sweet little man,” she mused as she watched Jenkins make a hasty retreat.

 

Griffin snorted. “Shouldn't you . . . be at work . . .?”

 

She laughed and ran up beside him as he strode down the hallway toward his office. “Nope . . . I'm off today.”

 

“Y-you're not allowed to come here,” he remarked though his tone lacked any real censure.

 

“Hmm, well, since you're off now, too, I thought that we could set a date today.”

 

He grunted, ignoring her statement as he scooped together the papers that he was going to take home to look over, concentrating instead on getting her out of the building before she ruined his credibility entirely. The sound of the lock snapping closed, however, got his attention quickly enough, and when he looked up, he couldn't help the small groan that slipped out of him at the absolutely devilish light glowing in her gaze.

 

Leaning against the closed door, she was, and she made no bones about letting her gaze travel up and down his body, leaving little to the imagination, at least in his mind, as to what, exactly, she was thinking.

 

“Isabelle, unlock that door,” he demanded, praying that his voice hadn't faltered nearly as much as he was afraid that it had.

 

She laughed and slowly shook her head, pushing herself away from the door as she fluidly, meticulously worked the buttons of her blouse. “I don't think so,” she said, her voice dropping to a throaty purr. “You're mine now, you know, and I . . . well . . . I'm yours . . .”

 

He opened his mouth but the argument that had started to form dissipated too quickly. `One day . . .' he thought rather absently as she let the blouse drop onto the floor. One day he would learn how to say `no' to her and mean it.

 

He gasped, his eyes drifting closed as she pressed her body against his, as she reached down to stroke him through the rough fabric of his slacks, unable to ignore the absolute desire that coursed through him.

 

One day, maybe . . . just not today . . .

 

 

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A/N:

See ya Monday!

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Final Thought from Isabelle:

Would that make me Mrs. Teddy Bear …?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Avouchment): 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~