InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Home Invasion ( Chapter 14 )

"I still think we should have called."

Waving a hand to hush her mate, Sierra Inutaisho rang the doorbell and stepped back to wait.  "If we'd done that, then it wouldn't be a surprise," she explained.

Toga rolled his eyes, but smiled since Sierra had wanted to hop on the first plane out eight weeks ago when Charity had called to announce that she and Ben were adopting the twins, and she would have, but she'd wanted to wait until Toga could go, too.  "Well, it was your idea to tell her that I couldn't get away."

"You couldn't, and you wouldn't have been able to if what's-his-name hadn't cancelled that meeting you were supposed to have . . ."

Wrinkling his nose since, 'what's-his-name' just happened to be the Australian tai-youkai, Jude Covington, and there were easily a hundred-million things Toga would rather be doing than spending any time at all in a meeting with the insufferable ass, he shrugged.  "He just wanted to know why we denied his request to send Ryomaru to help him out with his problem."

Sierra shook her head.  "Wasn't he the one who threw that fit about tai-youkai handling their own business back when Gavin was arrested for the whole Avis-thing?"

The look Toga shot her spoke volumes.

"Anyway, his loss is our gain.  You got a much-deserved week off, and I get to see my new grandbabies!" Sierra insisted with a giggle, the discussion of Jude Covington obviously discarded.  "Do I look like a grandma?" she asked, unleashing a dimpled grin as she held her hands out to the sides for Toga's approval.

He chuckled at the pale pink tee-shirt that proclaimed her 'World's Best Grandma' in glittery script lettering.  "No, you don't," he replied with a wink.

"Toga!" she complained as the door opened.  Sierra blinked at the woman who opened the door.   Certainly not old-looking, though if she were youkai, she might be, she regarded Sierra and Toga with a frank sense of curiosity.  Long dark brown hair streaked with highlights caught back in a low ponytail that fell over one shoulder, she eyed the Japanese tai-youkai and his mate with an uncannily bright gaze.

"May I help you?" she finally asked.

"We're looking for Charity Inutaisho," Sierra said.  "She gave us this address . . .?"

The woman's face lit up with a sense of understanding, and she stepped back, opening the door wide to allow them entrance.  "You're Miss Charity's parents, right?  The Japanese tai-youkai . . ."

"Toga," he replied, offering the woman a polite bow.  "And you are?"

She waved a hand.  "I'm Eddie, the housekeeper," she said.  "Miss Charity's getting the babies dressed.  I'll go get her for you."

"No hurry," Sierra said.  "In fact . . . Up there?" she asked, pointing at the floor above.

Eddie smiled.  "Go on up, but don't be surprised if some jackass is running around in a damn towel!"

Sierra blinked since the last part of that sentence was delivered in a very loud tone—loud enough to carry upstairs, she was sure.

Toga cleared his throat and cocked an eyebrow as he set their suitcases on the floor beside the wall since Sierra had been too impatient to go check in at a hotel first.  Normally, they'd use Sesshoumaru's penthouse, but since Mikio was currently staying there and renovations were still being finished up, and that effectively left the four-bedroom place with only one that was usable, they'd figured that a hotel was the best option.  "I beg your pardon?"

Eddie shook her head and closed the door behind them.  "That old fool I work for," she said, as though that ought to explain it all.  "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything.  I was just getting breakfast around.  Will you be joining them?"

"Oh, uh . . . It wouldn't be a problem, would it?  I mean, we were going to see if they wanted to go out for food . . ." Sierra said.

"Nonsense!" the housekeeper scoffed.  "Breakfast, it is!"

Sierra smiled as she watched Eddie disappear through the archway.  Toga slipped an arm around her and grunted.  "What the hell did she mean about Ben wearing just a towel?"

Sierra shook her head.  "I have no idea, Toga . . . Now sniff out your daughter, will you?  I want to see those babies!"

"You act like I'm nothing but a bloodhound," he grouched, lifting his face in the direction of the stairway.  "She's up there.  Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her forward.  Sierra chuckled at the irony of the statement, but remained silent as they climbed the staircase.

The shriek of their daughter's laughter greeted them as they stepped onto the landing.  Toga and Sierra exchanged raised-eyebrow-ed looks and hurried forward, down the hallway, and into the second room on the left—obviously the nursery, if the pink everything was an indicator.

She was in the bathroom with the door open, and Sierra giggled when she heard the unmistakable sound of a baby's laugh.  Breaking away from Toga's side, she ran lightly through the room, only to skid to a halt in the doorway.

Charity was hunkered down beside the tub, trying to hold onto a soapy baby with one hand and fending off a towel-clad Ben with her other one as she laughed while the youkai-general held the other baby and tried to dab a huge glob of suds onto Charity's nose.

"Oh . . . Well, that looks . . . compromising . . ." Toga remarked dryly, as he stopped beside Sierra in the doorway, drawing a gasp from Charity as her eyes widened in surprise that lasted all of ten seconds before she broke into a wide smile.

Ben, however, opened and closed his mouth a few times, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  "Uh, h-hello," he said.  He started to get to his feet, only to stop when he remembered he was still holding a very slippery baby.  "Uh . . ."

"Nice towel, Ben," Toga said rather pointedly.

The youkai general glanced down, as though he'd completely forgotten what he was—or wasn't—wearing.  "Damn," he muttered, a rather comical flush exploding under his skin.  "I'm so . . . I'm sorry . . ."

"Mama!  Papa!" Charity exclaimed, completely ignoring Ben's state of undress, which made Toga wonder just how common this particular scenario was, all things considered.  "Come meet your granddaughters!"

Sierra cleared her throat a few times, her hand fluttering in front of her lips, as Ben got to his feet.  Toga shot her a quelling look that would have been much more effective if she'd deigned to notice it, but no, her gaze was fixed on the youkai general, and didn't that just figure?  Toga rolled his eyes.

"If you'd like to do this, Sierra, I'll . . . I'll go get dressed," Ben said, cheeks darkening despite the smile on his face.

Sierra finally seemed to realize that she was, indeed, staring, and she giggled as she stepped past Ben and knelt down to help steady the two-month-old baby inside the plastic seat that supported her.  The child blinked and stared up at Sierra with round, wide eyes and in complete fascination as happy tears prickled the back of Sierra's eyelids.  Of course, she'd seen pictures, had video chatted with Charity nearly every day, but there was something about seeing the babies in person . . .

"That's Nadia," Charity said, leaning down to smile broadly at the baby, turning her head from side to side as she cooed in an effort to get Nadia to laugh.  It worked, eliciting a happy screech from the baby as Sierra giggled and sniffled at the same time.

"Papa, would you give me that towel, please?" she asked, nodding at the counter where she'd forgotten it.

Toga leaned over to nab the towel and shook it open, holding it up as Charity pulled Emmeline out of the bath and handed her over.  Emmeline stared at Toga, as though she wasn't entirely sure what to think of him.  He chuckled and tucked the towel in snuggly around her.  She didn't like it when he covered her head, and the loud squeak she managed made him chuckle as he pulled the towel down.

"They remind me of a couple other little girls I used to know," Toga remarked, sparing a moment to wink at his daughter.

She laughed and flipped the lever to let the water out of the tub while Toga shook out the second towel and handed it to Sierra.

"So, tell me, daughter of mine," Toga said as he stepped out of the bathroom and into the nursery once more.  "Does Ben run around in his towel every morning?"

"Only when I'm not expecting a visit from the Japanese tai-youkai and his lovely mate, of course," Ben quipped pleasantly.  Toga shot Ben what could only be described as 'The Look'.  Charity remembered that particular expression, even though it wasn't usually directed at her.  It normally meant that someone had managed to displease him.  Too bad Toga wasn't nearly as intimidating as Charity's grandfather, Sesshoumaru . . . It didn't affect Ben, either, because he just chuckled and stepped past Toga to grab clothes out of the closet for the twins.

"You and Sierra are staying for a week?"

Toga didn't look up from the slim-file Ben had handed to him just after they'd retired to Ben's office after breakfast while Charity and Sierra took the girls out shopping for the morning.  "Hmm?  Oh, yes, a week . . . You're sure you don't mind if we stay with you?  I mean, we were planning on just going to a hotel, so it's not a problem at all . . ."

"I wouldn't hear of it," Ben insisted, settling back in his chair as Toga slowly paced the floor.  "I'll even put clothes on after my shower."

Snapping the file closed, Toga stopped mid-stride to pin Ben with a very even look.  "I'd just forgotten about that.  Thanks for the reminder," he remarked dryly.  "You might well be a very handsome man, Ben, but I'd rather not see it, if you wouldn't mind."

Ben's lips twitched, but he didn't smile.  "Or you could just wear a towel tomorrow morning, too."

Toga barked out an incredulous laugh that slid into a slower chuckle.  "I'll save my towel for my own room, I think."

"Fair enough."

Laughter dying away, Toga sighed as he waved the file in Ben's general direction, as a deadly kind of seriousness entered his expression, his every movement.  Easy to tell at the moment, that the man was the undisputed Japanese tai-youkai, undoubtedly in line to vie for the title of Inu no Taisho one day . . . "Have you told Charity about any of this?"

"No, I haven't," Ben replied.  "I mean, it's just something that Zelig's heard, and there's not much to back it up yet.  I . . . I don't want to tell her unless there's something a little more concrete."

Toga considered that as he dropped into a chair nearby, slumping to the side, legs stretched out, as he slowly rubbed his temple.  "I trust someone's looking into all of this," Toga remarked.

Ben nodded.  "Right now, Gunnar is, actually.  Seems he took exception to the idea that anyone would try to interfere before the adoption is final."  He chuckled almost ruefully.  "He won't touch the twins, but . . ."

Toga didn't look particularly surprised.  "But he won't let anyone else touch them, either."

"He actually seemed rather offended, like the whole reason they were doing it was just to irritate him," Ben ventured.

"Yeah, well, he has a tendency to take any threat against his family a little personally," Toga replied.  "It's just how he is."

Letting out a deep breath as he idly rolled up his shirt sleeves, Ben figured that Toga had it right.  When he had stopped by the youkai special crimes office a couple weeks ago after Myrna had tipped Ben off to what she'd heard through the grapevine, Gunnar had seemed entirely agitated, which was a little unusual for the hanyou who absolutely hated to show when his feathers had been ruffled, so to speak.

"Hello, Gunnar," Ben greeted, leaning into the hanyou's office.  "Is Bas in?"

Glancing up from the paperwork that he was combing through, he dropped his pen on the desk and sat back to give Ben his full attention as he beckoned him closer with a couple crooked fingers. "Uh, no, he flew out to Virginia to see if that old mountain man knows more than what he's letting on."

"I thought you checked into that a couple months ago."

Gunnar shrugged.  "Just a feeling," he replied.  "Bas thinks he's hiding something.  I don't know what he thinks he'll get out of him unless he decides to beat on him until he talks . . ."

Ben chuckled, knowing well enough that Bas Zelig really wouldn’t do any such thing.  "Damn."

Settling back in his chair, Gunnar rested his elbows on the arm rests and tapped his fingertips together, his golden eyes so very much like Charity's though lacking the softer edge, probing, searching, as though he were trying to read Ben's mind, the intensity behind his simple gaze was almost unsettling.  "Something I can help you with?"

To be honest, Ben hadn't planned on telling Gunnar anything about it.  At least, that had been the initial plan.  It wasn't that he didn't think the future Japanese tai-youkai could handle it.  It was more the idea that he just wasn't sure how Gunnar would deal with it, especially when it involved his sister, at least, in a broad sense.  Even so, Gunnar Inutaisho really was second-to-none when it came to ferreting out information—much better than Ben ever was . . . "Myrna called this morning to tell me about a rumor she's heard," he explained.

A jet-black eyebrow arched, but there was no other change in the hanyou's expression otherwise.  "A rumor?"

Ben nodded.  "She said one of her informants told her that he's heard that Jeet Unker—Hiram Unker's brother—is looking for the twins, which wouldn’t be a problem, but he's dangerous in his own right, and until the adoption is final . . ."

Letting his words hang in the air, Ben figured it wouldn't take long for Gunnar to fit the rest of the pieces together, which he did in short order.  "And since this guy can claim next-of-kin in a human court, all he'd really have to do is get his hands on them in any way he could . . ." Drumming his claws on the highly polished surface of his desk, Gunnar trailed off as he considered the situation.  "Let me look into it, Ben," he said, his tone leaving very little in the way of argument.  "Just don't let Charity or the twins out of your sight."

"Has Gunnar found out anything?" Toga asked, interrupting Ben's thoughts, drawing him back to the present.

"He found Jeet, yes, and Cain ordered Larry Rowland to shadow him—to make sure he stays put and doesn't make any suspicious moves."

Toga nodded slowly as he considered Ben's statement.  "Larry's the one that Cain mentioned is specialized in stealth operations?"

Ben sighed, hating that he couldn't quite shake the worry that had dogged him since that phone call from Myrna.   "Yes."

"Ben, you know, I trust you to take care of the twins . . . and Charity."  Lifting his gaze to lock with Ben's, Toga didn't raise his chin.  The intensity in his amber eyes enough to make most youkai back down. It was the same fierceness that his father possessed in spades, too.

Ben nodded slowly, refusing to look away or to give any indication that he wasn’t taking the entire situation absolutely seriously.  "Believe me when I say to you, I'll protect her—I'll protect them—with my life."

Tugging on the neckline of the tee-shirt he'd donned for bed, Ben made a face as he jammed his glasses back up his nose with a crooked finger without losing his place in the notes he was reading from the slim-file.  Just boring emails from the area generals, all reporting in that everything was quiet in the various jurisdictions.  There were a few unsubstantiated things that were mentioned here and there, with promises to gather more information, but nothing that warranted immediate action, and for that, Ben was thankful since having a lull, however brief, was something that tended to be few and far-between . . .

A soft throat-clearing drew his attention as Charity's youki filtered into his room, brushing over his as gently as the stroke of an early summer breeze.  Without looking up, he held out a hand.  She heaved a sigh as she sat down on the edge of his bed to push his hand away.  "If you're wanting your daughters, you're going to have to fight my parents for them," she said in a tone that could only be described as 'pouty'.

Letting the slim-file drop onto his lap, Ben raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the disgruntled hanyou woman.  "Your parents?"

She nodded, twisting to the side almost violently, throwing herself back on the pillows propped up against the headboard, crossing her arm over her chest, and her legs at the ankles as she thumped them down as hard as she could to make her point apparent.  "They stole the babies," she grumbled, ears twitching as a sure indication of her overall pique.  "Damn it, why did you have to be nice, anyway?"

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise since he had never seen her quite like this before, and, while part of him found her to be highly amusing, especially given that she was wearing a silly pink tee-shirt with unicorns printed all over it and a pair of very loose pink shorts, he kind of figured that he'd be better off, not saying anything about that at the moment.  "Because . . . it's my fault that your parents have them?"

Charity shot him a droll look.  "Yes!  If they were at a hotel right now instead of staying in the room down the hall, they wouldn't have the babies, now, would they?"

Snapping his mouth closed since there really was nothing he could possibly say that would shift the blame off of himself with her skewed bit of logic, Ben heaved a sigh and set the slim-file on the nightstand before turning back to face her once more.  "Come here," he said, holding out an arm to beckon her toward him.

She wrinkled her nose and uttered a noise that sounded suspiciously like, 'keh'.  He sighed when she refused and leaned over to pull her over.  She didn't fight him, but she did glower.  "Oh, no, Ben Philips," she grumbled.  "Night time is cuddle time—you know this!  And just how am I supposed to get my cuddles when my parents—my parents—just stole my children?"

Tucking her head against his shoulder, he chuckled as he reached over to nab the remote off his nightstand.  Leaning up on her elbow, Charity shot him a questioning look.  "What are you doing?" she asked, still apparently unwilling to give up on her pouting.

"Looking for a movie," he replied.  "I don't think I've gotten to watch one since I told Zelig I'd keep the twins."

She made a face.  "I'm having a maternal crisis here, and you're wanting to watch a movie?  Ben—"

Dropping the remote onto his stomach, Ben pulled her back down against his shoulder once more.  "Yes, I'm going to watch a movie with you, and if you haven't noticed, I'm cuddling with you.  I mean, I realize I'm not nearly as cute as the girls, but you can make do for one night, can't you?  After all, your parents live in Japan—over half a world away—and it's not like they'll be here forever.  Is it really so terrible that they want to bond with their grandchildren?"

Charity stiffened for a moment as she considered his words, and his smile widened slightly as she slowly relaxed against him.  "Yes," she retorted mulishly and then sighed.  "Oh, well, I . . . I guess you'll do," she muttered.  "Oh, stop!  The Brightness of the Dark!  I've been meaning to watch that."

Ben clicked on the listing and read the summary: two high school sweethearts torn apart by destiny find each other again when fate intervenes . . .

'Oh.  My.  God.  No-o-o-o . . .'

'Shut up,' Ben retorted as he pushed the play button.

'Ugh, she's neutering us!  And she's not even trying!  And you're letting her do it!  Just hand her the snips, Ben.  It'll be painless!'

'The movie won't be that bad,' he argued.  'Besides, even if it's not that interesting, you're missing the bigger picture.'

'Which is . . .?'

'We get to lay here and hold her for the next ninety-seven minutes.'

His youkai considered that for a moment then sighed.  'Okay, yeah . . . That's a win.'

"What if I fall asleep?" she asked, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Stroking her hair with an idle hand, he chuckled.  "You won't."

"Yes, but what if I do?"

"I'll wake you up if you do," he promised, breathing in deep, savoring the comforting scent of her.

". . . What if you fall asleep?"

Ben gave an offhanded shrug.  "Then I suppose it'll be the end of the world.  It'll make the morning news, be headlines all over the country.  Mountains will crumble, rivers will run dry, oceans will part—"

She giggled and smacked his chest.  "You're kind of a jerk, you know."

He kissed her forehead, and she snuggled against him once more.  "I know.  I'm sorry."

She snorted.  "You're not," she retorted mildly, her voice still tinged with the lilt of amusement.  "Why is your bed so much more comfortable than mine?"

"I don't know," he replied.  "Can't say I've ever slept in any of the guest rooms."

"I think you should let me have this room with this bed, and you can stay in mine across the hall."

"Or you could just stay in here with me."

"Now you're just being a tease," she accused, her tone taking on the sulky hint again.

He heaved a sigh since he really was only half-teasing.  The other half was dead-damn-serious . . . "You're missing your movie, Charity."

"All right; all right," she said, wiggling around to make herself more comfortable.  Her warmth, her calm seemed to envelop him, and he stifled a sigh as he wrapped his arms more securely around her.  If this was the trade-off for putting up with sappy, silly, lovey-dovey movies, then he supposed he could deal with that . . .

She gave a wistful sigh when the lovers in the movie finally found each other again better than three quarters of the way through the film.  "Why can't it be that way in real life?" she asked, though Ben had to wonder if she was asking him or not.

"What?  Slow motion running along a beach at sunset, straight into each other's arms?" he deadpanned.

She made a face, craning her neck to look up at him.  "You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you?"

He chuckled.  "I do . . . I just don't care very much for romance movies."

"Okay, then," she said, resting her hands on his chest so she could better peer into his face.  "What do you think is 'romantic'?  What is romance to you?"

Letting his head fall back, he considered her questions, pursing his lips, shifting his jaw to the side.  "What do I think is romantic," he repeated.  Lowering his chin, staring into her eyes, he wondered vaguely if she could feel it, too: that invisible but undeniable connection that existed just between the two of them.  "I think . . . I think that true romance is a person," he murmured, gaze dropping to her lips.  "It's easy to say that a walk in the rain is romantic, or that a roaring fire in the midst of a snowstorm is romantic.  It's simple to think that, sitting on the beach, watching the sunset is romantic, but the truth is, there is no romance if the person I'm with . . . If she isn't special to me . . ."

She stared at him for long heartbeats, her gaze clear, bright, swirling gold that seemed to shift in a riot of color.  Cheeks kissed with the barest tinge of dusty rose, lips parted as the sound of her shallow breathing echoed in his ears, as her heart beat created a cadence that spoke to him . . . Leaning up, bracing her hands on his chest, she brushed her lips over his with the softest exhalation, the sweetest explosion that fired off, somewhere deep inside him.

Time fell away as the teasing kiss lingered, as the long dormant memories of something new, something wild and free tugged on the corners of half-forgotten daydreams.  The infinite tenderness of a simple touch, a solitary kiss left his mind reeling.  After so many years of wondering what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to simply allow himself to be near her, yet trying not to give thought to the persistent yearning, the tumble of sensation was inebriating and humbling, all at once.

She sighed against his lips, her arms slipping up around his neck, holding him close, sinking her fingers into his hair, as shivers ran up his spine.  A tightly contained control stretched and tensed as one hand held her to him, as the other hand stroked her cheek.

The gentleness of the kiss widened, deepened, rising and falling like the sea, giving way to the gale of emotion that surged through him.  Something about her spoke to him in whispers and with an innocence that had the power to set him free . . .

The overwhelming sense of innocent that radiated from her to him was an awe-inspiring thing.  It wasn't a clumsiness, no, but more of a sense of quiet wonder . . . As fresh and clean as the morning dew, she was, and it was that realization that snapped Ben out of his haze.  He wanted her, certainly, but he also wanted them to take their time, to know and to understand . . . and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done, to turn his face away, to draw in a series of stunted and ragged breaths as he held her close, as he ran the pad of his thumb over her jawline.

Opening his mouth to say something—in his Charity-induced stupor, he wasn't sure what—he could only blink and stare at her in something akin to awe when she did the one thing that he really hadn't expected.

She snuggled against him once more.

And she laughed.