InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Slip of the Tongue ❯ Slackerbitch ( Chapter 4 )

Author's Note: That long, unannounced hiatus I took? Never happened. Christmas was fun, though. Let's never do it again. Also, I didn't proof-read. I made my brain shit this out then sighed and accepted the out-come. On the plus side? Next chapter = humiliation AND tongue. Its like getting to third base on the first date. Priceless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

<center><b>Chapter Four - <I>Bionic</b>

If you can't do it, give up</I>!

—Sigmund Freud

</center>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The way Kagome saw it this weird meeting with Ikeda was going to end one of two ways. Either it would,

 

Explode into a bajillion tiny pieces in her face and basically destroy the small amount of sanity she'd managed to reclaim after booting Miroku and his devilish…friends out of her apartment, or-

 

Kill her.

 

Neither was a suitable outcome. So what would Kagome do? Fix it. And how would little, innocent Kagome accomplish this?

 

Well…good question.

 

So she started by doing what any other sane, rational grown woman would do in her shoes and kicked the door of her bedroom for a solid 20 minutes. Then she sighed and plopped tiredly on her bed, blowing her bangs out of face. Ikeda is an asshole. He's proven this in just the short couple days I've known him. And, you know, good for him for having that kind of stability in his mood, but I don't deserve it and I most certainly do not want to deal with it. Not so many days in a row. Lying back, Kagome shut her eyes and took a deep breath, calmly filtering out the overbearing smells of hippie and men. It wasn't like this was the worst she'd ever dealt with or anything, it was just yet another setback she didn't need in her goal to…

 

Um.

 

Not have to look at Ikeda! Or Daisuke. Or, anyone.

 

She groaned and sat up, crossing her legs and dropping her head into her hands. “When did I become so—?” The doorbell rang. Kagome lifted her head, her nose twitching.

 

“Kagome! Open the door! I have plans and ice cream and its COLD!”

 

Kagome shot up, launched herself out of her room, danced around the mess still present in her living room, and tripped over herself, all while screaming excitedly, “Sango! Sango, Sango, Sango, SANGO! Thank ­God!” After standing up and bouncing the rest of the way to the door on her left foot, nursing a bruised right knee, she wrenched open the door. “You wouldn't believe—”

 

“Yeah. I would. Now take this stuff to the kitchen, sit down, and let me help.”

 

Grabbing bags, Kagome let all of the tension melt off of her. Sango would know what to do. She always did. She was a hero, a savior, a self-reliant woman with the brains and beauty to fix (or seduce) anything. And man did Kagome need saving! Or, at least, venting.

 

With Kagome humming and skipping to the kitchen, Sango surveyed the living room silently. The smell? Atrocious. The mess? Worse. The ringleader? Miroku. Always Miroku. Dammit monk! She shook her head and listened to the quiet rustle of bags as Kagome went through her supplies before bending over and quickly picking up several wrappers of various foods, the door shutting behind her. “Kagome, what happened in here?”

 

“Party!” Kagome called back, lifting up a carton of ice cream. “And before you complain, I wasn't even invited, so…”

 

“Who all was here?”

 

“Miroku, Jinenjii, Shippo, and Menomaru.”

 

Sango flailed into the room, eyes wide. “Menomaru?!”

 

“Yeah. That was basically my reaction, too.” Everything laid out on the counter, Kagome threw the bags into a random cupboard and seated herself next to the sink, whipping out a spoon and eyeing the mint chocolate chip ice cream like she were a hungry dog. But don't get comfortable, moose tracks, you're next. Sango watched her a couple seconds before grabbing her own carton and sitting across from her on the island.

 

“How did that work? Wait, no, start from the beginning, even the stuff you were trying to tell me on the phone. Just tell me everything and don't leave anything out. Also, there's a banana peel stuck to the fridge.” Kagome grimaced but launched into her sordid tale, spooning out monster bites of ice cream and waving her hands around as Sango watched with rapt attention. Two empty cartons later Kagome was done, panting, hair mussed and wild. Sango's spoon was hanging limply in her hand, her face an odd mix of emotions. “Ikeda wants to see you. Tomorrow.” Kagome nodded. “And, basically, you wouldn't be involved in any of this is if he hadn't had been trying to sex it up with Daisuke's wife.” Another enraged nod. “And…he's an ass?”

 

“Yeah! I mean, sure, he's nice to look at, but he's so egotistical. All the time! Constantly!”

 

Sango nodded slowly then set her spoon down carefully. “Here's what's going to happen—”

 

Kagome smiled. Sango always knew exactly the right thing to do.

 

“—I'm going to kick his ass.”

 

Except now.

 

“You can't!”

 

“The hell I can't! The way I see it, I'm going to tell him to leave you alone and solve his own damn problems! I don't even know why he needs to get those two resolved so badly! He's the one fuc—”

 

“Sango!”

 

“What!” By now, Sango was halfway to the door, Kagome following behind, halfway to a nervous breakdown.

 

“Please…just…I already feel better. Ranting helped. I mean, really, this isn't such a big deal. It was more disturbing. I'll just tell him that I don't care what his reasons are I refuse to be involved anymore. But I certainly don't want to go tomorrow.” Kagome started cleaning her living room, setting right the up-turned chairs and straightening up the couch. Mumbling about the mess, she paused after she found an open container of peanut butter wedged between the wall and the bookcase, then crinkled her nose. “What the hell?” Sango—calmer now and taking a more objective view on things—giggled and pointed to the wall above the TV. The remote was stuck to the wall. With peanut butter. And—

 

“Is that a Skittle?”

 

The two females looked at each other, then back at the remote. “It was probably so they didn't loose it,” Kagome decided. Makes sense. Stoner sense, but sense. After a couple laps around the room, making sure everything was clean, Sango finally sat down on the couch and laced her fingers together. This meant, Kagome knew, that she'd made everything clear in her own head.

 

Sango had drawn the lines and picked her side, hallelujah!

 

Now the only one that required saving was Kagome.

 

“So…what do you think?” Kagome asked, sitting down next to her, slightly wary of what Sango would say next. You see, Sango was always right. Always. And Kagome hated it, because usually being right entailed doing exactly the thing Kagome didn't want to do. For instance—

 

“I think you should go tomorrow and just see what he has to say. I understand that he's an ass and all, but to me it sounds like he doesn't want to be a part of this as much as you don't.” Kagome's head dropped and her brain thrashed around in her skull. NO! He's horrible! And he's going to make fun of me! “Listen to him, and if it's as shallow and purely carnal as you think it's going to be then you can get out. But, I don't know, I get the feeling there's more to this then you think.”

 

“What could I possibly be missing? He wants to bone Mrs. Yamamoto without Mr. Yamamoto suspecting. Period.”

 

Sango shrugged. “It doesn't make sense to me, if he was in this for his own libido then why would he want the Yamamoto couple to face their issues? Obviously he wants them to be focused on each other.”

 

Kagome glared at a crumb on her floor, “Whatever, man.”

 

Sango grinned. “You know, when you do that, you look exactly like Souta.”

 

Kagome snorted and crossed her arms, “Bull.” Oh no. “You know what I really hate about all of this? I honestly don't know how Daisuke feels…I mean, he should be torn up, but instead he's jumping me with all the enthusiasm of a small boy at a candy store.”

 

“Wow, that was a disturbing analogy considering you're talking about yourself and Mr. Yamamoto.”

 

Yes, it was.

 

Kagome shuddered and firmly reined her thoughts in from anymore troubling visuals of Daisuke in a small boy's sailor suit, drooling over Kagome-shaped lollipops. Tch. No, no I will not be some man's rebound younger, you know, thing. “Alright…I guess. But that means that tomorrow I'm going to have to man up and be nice.”

 

“Just pretend you don't know him. Besides, its in your nature to be really, really, ridiculously nice. You've just squashed your nature with years of Miroku.”

 

“You mean with years of substance abuse?”

 

“Same difference.”

 

“Oh, right.”

 

A few hours later, ice cream all gone and her apartment in top shape, Kagome was left sitting alone at her desk, her chair seat once again attached with the help of Sango's inane ability to fix the unfixable. Thus she began spinning. Thinking, too. But mostly spinning. Which brought her back to her original point: this rendezvous with Ikeda was going to end one of two ways. Unless it didn't, some demented voice spoke up in her head (it was probably that optimistic, happy side of her she'd ruthlessly slaughtered back in college). Maybe…maybe there was a really good reason as to why Ikeda had been all up in Mrs. Yamamoto's grill that day. Sure, she couldn't think of any, but it was possible.

 

Barely.

 

The spinning ground to a halt at one in the morning. Kagome decided it was time for bed, though she was still rather worked up. Quietly, though, she admitted that she had jumped to a whole lot of conclusions about Ikeda that she probably shouldn't have. And, yes, he was arrogant, but she was annoying and hyperactive. So there was going to just have to be some tolerance on her part.

 

Easier said than done, she groused, falling into her sheets.

 

But I am not taking that elevator in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sesshomaru was pacing. Why, you might ask? Because.

 

He had a problem.

 

His problem?

 

Explaining, quite frankly, everything without loosing his dignity.

 

This was impossible. Even to such an ancient, civilized mind as his own. He honestly had no clue what to tell that horrid Higurashi woman.

 

Well. You could opt for the truth.

 

His pacing froze. His ego, already wound up and furious from all the neglecting he'd done it lately, kicked him in the neck. It seemed to yell, “No! No. You've always cared about my well being above everything else. Do not set that aside anymore for that troublesome sliver of a woman.” Sesshomaru's thoughts took a 180. It was a valid point. His—dare he call it this?—conscience, jumped onto the shoulder not occupied by his ego. “Hey! Don't listen to that little bastard anymore! You never pay any attention at all to me and look where you are now! Stuck between a conniving, deceitful married bitch and a manic, pissed-off, crazy one!” Sesshomaru's pacing started again, his mind twisted in a knot. Surely his ego could take this one last blow (on his shoulders, his conscience stuck his tongue out at his ego, raising a victorious fist). But why should he put himself at a disadvantage for Higurashi?

 

Gross.

 

His ego rapped his skull, “Answer: You shouldn't. Just forget the entire thing. Take quiet revenge on the Yamamoto woman and then extract yourself from these pathetic mortal's lives. Everyone important wins.” His conscience growled and lunged, strangling his ego, “No. Not the answer! Look at it like this, the Yamamoto woman—assuming she truly wants you as bad as we think—” Here his ego rolled his eyes, because of course she wanted him that bad, “—won't give up! You have to fix the problem, not just push it to the back of your mind and hope it resolves itself.”

 

Sesshomaru seated himself calmly, brows furrowed. Sadly, the part of his brain that wasn't trying to preserve his pride was correct. Certainly the Yamamoto woman would find some way to get to him if he just…ignored her. Despite how much he wanted to. Therefore—

 

He was going to have to tell Higurashi what exactly had happened and why he needed the Yamamoto marriage to work out or dissipate as soon as possible. Which meant his ego was going to have to take a backseat. His lip curled a bit in distaste. None of this would be an issue if the Yamamoto woman had kept her hands to herself. Too late, though.

 

Sex always complicates things.

 

Damn sex.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Noon. It was noon. And Kagome was asleep.

 

Miroku and Shippo stood on opposite sides of her bed, looking down at her, pure amusement ruling their features. “May I?” Miroku questioned politely, referring to a lightly snoring Kagome. Shippo grinned and bowed slightly, his hand waving. Miroku took that as en emphatic `yes' and carefully worked a hand under her covers. “Kagome,” he said calmly, “Kagome-san, time to wake up.” Kagome, somewhere between sleep and dreaming about a zombie Bob Barker, growled. Miroku's hand went lower. “I'm giving you ample time to escape my impure advances,” he sang merrily. She grunted in response. Miroku's eyebrow rose. That was an invitation if I've ever heard one! His brain was practically caressing itself in enjoyment. His hand was busy caressing other things.

 

Kagome's eyes shot open.

 

“KYAH!”

 

Miroku, now on the ground with his legs sprawled in front of him, pouted, rubbing at a reddened cheek. He was sad to say that he never actually enjoyed Kagome's slaps. Odd, but true.

 

Then again, that never stopped him. Death probably wouldn't stop him.

 

Kagome, eyes wild and hair tangled, look down at him from the bed, her hand still in the air. The t-shirt she was wearing was twisted a bit, giving him a nice view of the smooth skin on her hips and stomach. Ah, not a total loss then. “Miroku…I…you…I THOUGHT WE MOVED PAST THIS.” Miroku chuckled. Silly girl. Shippo poked Kagome's forehead to draw her attention.

 

“Kagome-chan, we hope you don't mind, but we let someone in with us.”

 

Kagome blinked and glanced at the clock while rubbing her eyes, “Who—HOLY FRICKIN' FRICK!” She threw herself from the bed and leaped into the living room. Sesshomaru looked up coolly at her entrance then smirked. “I'm sorry, Ikeda-san. Really. My friend was here late last night and—”

 

“You are not wearing any pants,” Sesshomaru concluded snidely.

 

Kagome twitched, and looked down. Why, yes, that's right, she was in a t-shirt and underwear. So…no pants.

 

No pants.

 

Um.

 

Fuck.

 

“GAH!” She ran back into her bedroom, slammed the door—had to re-open the door to toss Miroku and Shippo out—then calmed herself by running into a wall. Okay. Shower, she thought above the headache and embarrassment. Then I'll just pretend he didn't see me in silk panties with kittens on them.

 

Did it have to be the kittens? Really?

 

Whimpering, she stumbled into the bathroom.

 

Outside Kagome's despair, the three men were evaluating each other.

 

Shippo decided it was his job to launch the conversation. He opened with, “I bought her those underwear.” Miroku made an enlightened face; Sesshomaru was still trying to not dwell on the cute, smiling faces of the kittens. And her ass. He didn't need to be thinking of either. No, he was annoyed. She should've been ready. Ready, nervous, and waiting. Instead she'd been snoring like a drunkenly passed out obese man.

 

…That was a bit of an exaggeration, but he didn't have the patience for this.

 

Miroku was busy asking Shippo all about the panties and their meaning when Kagome opened the door, fully dressed. Unfortunately. He stopped mid-question and soared over to her, arms outstretched. “Kagome-san, I want to give you my sincerest apologies. Please, forgive—”

 

“Shove it.” She muttered, throwing things in her bag from the table next to the door and yanking on a pair of shoes. Miroku instantly deflated. “Ikeda-san, I'm very sorry to have made you wait with these—”

 

“Enough.” The two of them waltzed out the door, Kagome looking pissed off and still flustered, Ikeda dutifully ignoring her.

 

When they were alone, Shippo glanced at Miroku. “You know, I also got her these pink ones with puppies on them.”

 

Miroku perked up. “We should go make sure she still has them. It would be rude if she'd thrown away a perfectly good gift from one of her closest friends.” He edged towards her bedroom, excitement lighting up his eyes.

 

Shippo merely plopped down on the couch. “You have fun with that. I'm going to watch the TV.”

 

“I think she has an old magic kit in her closet,” Miroku called, his head in a drawer in her room, “from when she wanted to learn how to make a plane disappear her sophomore year. Its probably still intact, too.”

 

Shippo grinned and dropped the remote, “Cool!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I. Hate. Everything.

 

Kagome glared at Sesshomaru across the table, busy ripping apart her napkin to keep herself from wringing his neck. Sesshomaru leaned on his left elbow calmly, holding his glass delicately. He met her eyes, took a sip, then raised a condescending eyebrow.

 

An evil condescending eyebrow.

 

Kagome snapped. “Will you just tell me what happened so that I can leave?!” She demanded, flinging little bits of napkin everywhere. The waitress who was about to approach to take their orders jumped and scurried away, shaking. Sesshomaru took no notice and simply sat back, still brutally smug.

 

“Fine, but first, calm down.”

 

Instantly she relaxed.

 

…

 

Wait.

 

What? Her shoulders tensed again and a small growl left her lips. Eyes narrowed, Kagome forced her hands away from the napkin and laid them flat where he could see them. “There. I'm perfectly calm.” Sesshomaru snorted. Kagome closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Alright. Just because he's an uppity jerk doesn't mean I need to give myself an aneurism. Release the anger. There. All better.

 

She opened her eyes and was met with Ikeda's stoic indifference.

 

His face almost instantly filled her with anger again.

 

Almost.

 

But she was a grown woman with years of dealing with people worse than Miroku under her belt, so she would be fine.

 

Okay. Talk, plot, bitch, leave. Good plan.

 

Truthfully a whole lot closer to being composed, Kagome met his eyes, “Okay. I'm relaxed. Now, please share.”

 

Sesshomaru internally sighed. His ego rammed itself into his temple. “Don't do this. Lie! Lie your ass off!” But…he couldn't do that. He already knew that would end shoddily. Gathering his wits about him he met Kagome's gaze icily. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this table. Understood, Higurashi?” She rolled her eyes but nodded, and, painfully, he trudged on. “The night before you saw what you did between the Yamamoto woman and I this Sesshomaru had attended long, dull meeting with a couple of out-of-town “friends” I'd—accidentally—ran into. They took me to this garish gentlemen's club and insisted I hang around for several hours. Needless to say—”

 

“You were drunk off your ass.”

 

Sesshomaru's glass cracked a little in his hand. “Tastefully put.”

 

Kagome sniffed, “It isn't like I'm trying to win any points on delivery, just tell the story, would you?”

 

Some place right behind the demon's eyes began to throb. “They could not find a ride home for myself. After spending several hours debating whether to drive or hail a cab, I finally reached the apartment building—”

 

“Still wasted,” Kagome noted, flipping the menu cover back and forth.

 

“…Yes. Very much so. Thus, I found myself in the company of a woman who'd actively pursued me ever since we met, stuck in a confined space with nowhere to avoid her advances—”

 

Kagome's eyes were suddenly half of her face as she leaned forward, “You mean…she tried to take advantage of you in your drunken state!” Sesshomaru glared over to the right, taking another sip of water. Kagome's mouth opened in surprise. “That's…that's awful! And…I mean, I thought you were on top of her and putting your hands everywhere and—”

 

“I was trying to remove her from my person.”

 

Her head started shaking slowly, “I'm sorry, I thought you were just being a whore.” His eyes focused on her, angry. “I mean, man-whore. But, wow. That's bad…so you wanted them to face each other while supposedly on a date with both of us because…?”

 

“I was hoping it would make them reconcile. Or divorce. If they divorce they will both end up moving.”

 

“But what if Mrs. Yamamoto stays?”

 

“She won't. The owner of the complex is looking to open up as many of the taken apartments as possible, and them divorcing would be the perfect incentive to free up another one on their floor. Besides, the landlord is not found of that particular couple…”

 

“You know him personally?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Excuse me,” the waitress neither of them had noticed earlier spoke up meekly, her eyes on the ground. “Are you ready to order?”

 

Sesshomaru held his menu up but didn't acknowledge her except with a curt, “Nothing for me.”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes and handed up hers as well, smiling at the timid girl politely, “I just want a dessert. Tell me, what do you suggest?”

 

Sesshomaru interrupted, “I'm not paying for you. Also, you'll be eating it alone, as I have no desire to remain in your company any longer.”

 

Kagome glared at him, “Well, it was stupid of you to bring me to this restaurant then.”

 

Smirking, he sat back, “On the contrary, I'm meeting a client of mine here in… 15 minutes. Actually, since we clearly have nothing else to discuss at this point in time, I believe you should be leaving now.”

 

Kagome sputtered, “You're so rude!” Standing up, she huffily grabbed her purse and began stomping away, but stopped and turned around a few feet behind the waitress who was now inching towards the safe haven of the kitchen. “You take clients on Saturday?” Kagome asked skeptically.

 

Sesshomaru looked at his watch calmly, “He's an important man. This was his only free day this week.”

 

“Stockbrokers are so dull,” Kagome mumbled, walking away.

 

The waitress looked around for a couple seconds, glanced quickly at Sesshomaru's mildly annoyed expression, and then bolted. Once she was in the kitchen she jumped on the main cook, “Gerardo-san, these people, they're crazy!”

 

“…Kimi-chan, you say that everyday. You're just too shy to be—”

 

“No, no, see, this time, I mean it,” she ignored the cooks exasperated look, “They're talking about splitting up married couples and intercourse and you wouldn't believe how angry they constantly are! It's like watching a dog-fight, except without actual violence! Or…yelling…or barking…or blood… Except maybe verbal blood!” Gerardo flipped a piece of meat and pushed her off his arm. She wasn't deterred. “Should I call—?”

 

“A therapist for yourself? Yes. Please, dear Kimiko-chan, fix your problems.”

 

“Fine! But I'm not waiting on that man!”

 

“Of course you aren't. Shika will take care of that table for you. Again.” Kimiko nodded, relieved, and scuttled away. Gerardo smacked his head against the stove fan, “And I'll cover for you. Again.”

 

Outside, Kagome plopped herself on a bench thoughtfully.

 

So.

 

She was now working to either end or repair a marriage that wasn't any of her business with a man that didn't deserve her cooperation. Or sympathy. Therefore…

 

I'm going to hell.

 

Kagome smiled calmly.

 

I'm taking Miroku with me. Maybe Shippo, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Um, Miroku?”

 

“Yes Shippo?”

 

“I think we need to run far, far away.”

 

Miroku nodded thoughtfully, hand on his chin, “Yes, Shippo, I believe you are right.” Shippo looked from Miroku to the innocent magic kit at his feet, then back at Kagome's kitchen.

 

The fridge door now hung awkwardly from a single hinge, the island had (somehow) shifted so it now sat at a weird diagonal angle in the middle of the room, the cabinets were either missing or broken, and shattered glasses and plates littered the countertops. Food was stuck to the ceiling and walls, and an eerie green blob was bubbling in the corner, slowly working its way towards the two men. Shippo gulped. Miroku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Shippo…why did you think you needed to infuse kitsune magic into this harmless little kit?”

 

“Look Miroku, you can only unhook a pair of `magic rings' so many times before it gets old.” Miroku shot him a glare and Shippo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I tried to fix it… Maybe if I mix a couple cleaning spells I know I can—”

 

“No! That is not an option. Here's what we're going to do. First, find a big container to put the creature you created in,” The green blob in the corner bubbled angrily, “I'll start cleaning up…everything else. Now, hopefully if we work hard we can finish this before—”

 

“Guys! I'm back!”

 

“—Well, its been nice knowing you, Shippo my old friend.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kagome: So. Death.

 

Sesshomaru: No, my vote lies with drawn-out annoyance, incessant stupidity, and then sex. Probably elevator sex.

 

 

 

 

Plot: How come no one cares how I feel?

 

Author: Because, silly, you suck!

 

Plot: Oh, yes, right. How could I forget? Bastards.