InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Slip of the Tongue ❯ Upstream ( Chapter 6 )

Author's Note: I accomplished something never before done! SESSHOMARU IS IN HIS UNDERWEAR THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER AND guess what!

 

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NO SEX!

 

Hah, tradition. Suck on that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six - Marathon Runners

When you burn all your bridges,
you will have to fight alone
it's a good thing you can swim

—Ride the Lights, Morningwood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nighttime had thread lazy fingers through Tokyo's streets, lighting up buildings like torches and relieving the stress that had wound up in traffic, phone calls, and other inescapable problems the daylight brought. Weary men, women, and children settled themselves in their homes, tired from the day's various activities. It was a time to rest, to relax, to bask in the welcoming joy that accompanied the glorious action of doing, exactly and perfectly, nothing.

 

Sadly, Kagome was too busy using every curse word she'd ever learned—and several she'd made up—to notice.

 

“HEY! GET OUT HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! And you better be dressed, because if not…I'll dress you! And I don't dress nice!” Her articulacy had taken a backseat to her thunderous fury. What, precisely, so much anger was focused on remained unknown, all she knew was this: Ikeda had to die. Had to! Really, it was out of her hands to choose otherwise. Even if she wanted him to live, it was out of her hands. Kagome could no longer make that decision, as the gods had decided he'd been such an unbelievable prick all of his life it was only right that they smite him.

 

How she knew that the gods had come to such a conclusion was as much a mystery as the reason she was holding a spatula and pounding on her bathroom door.

 

Sesshomaru, from his side of the door, hung his drenched pants on the shower neatly. He checked the sides twice, making sure where he'd folded them was perfect, so the crease would be flawless, then slowly pulled off his socks, since those too had been defiled by Higurashi's dirty tap water. He made slow work of all of it, smirking as Kagome's voice started to rasp from all the obnoxious (and pointless) yelling she'd forced. Clad only in his buttoned suit shirt and briefs, Sesshomaru watched his reflection lazily. He undid a few of the topmost buttons, then the cuffs, rolling the sleeves up carefully. The shirt, now draping freely since it no longer had anything to tuck into, covered most of his “achievements” (he almost smirked cockily at the thought, but he stopped when the irony of “cockily” snagged his attention), but a fair amount of barely-veiled-ass and totally-unveiled-leg would still be subject to the woman's view. And, considering the view she'd be getting, he knew he would not go un-groped. Higurashi was not the “coy” type. Sesshomaru could tell.

 

He rubbed at the tip of one pointed ear thoughtfully, letting Kagome's rant filter back into his awareness, “—I will not have a half-naked dickface skipping around my apartment! It's VULGAR! You, Sesshomaru Dickface Ikeda, are vulgar! And I want you to leave! You can get half-naked in the hall and skip around there, but NOT—!”

 

Kagome's voice thudded to a stop painfully in her throat when Sesshomaru opened the door. “This one does not skip.” He looked and sounded bored, though Sesshomaru had to admit he was at a loss as to why Higurashi was brandishing a cooking utensil at him.

 

Kagome couldn't have known how his face looked, since her eyes had shamelessly nail-gunned themselves to the rest of his anatomy. She'd never found male legs all that appealing, honestly—in fact, a lot of men were incredibly unattractive when stripped of material possessions. Lucky her, though! Since Ikeda was not in the strictest sense a man. Those were man legs, though. Really, really nice ones, the likes of which she'd never seen before. And Kagome was betting against herself that if he turned around he would have a man's ass, too. Or something more enchanting. The perfect ass. A mythical creature, in it's own right. He shifted just a bit, and the shirt's long front parted enough for her to see enchanting bulge before it was gone and she had to rip her eyes up to his face in the most painful of ways. He crossed his arms, the rolled-up sleeves wrapped around the stripes of his forearms snugly, and some small part of Kagome that was still in thinking order was pissed to note that even when laidback he had to look perfect. The rest of her, however, was too busy internally panting to bitch about how the sleeves were impeccably even, at the exact same spot on each of his arms.

 

Ironically, it was the spatula that drove her back into Cohesive Land, where she was still pissed and Sesshomaru was still an asshole to the nth degree. Her hand had been on the verge of dropping the utensil, and the shiny end had reflected light into her eyes right before her total lapse into a sex-driven coma. “I SAID YOU SHOULD COME OUT DRESSED, IKEDA!”

 

The demon shrugged minutely, “They're still wet.” As are you! The distinctly perverted part of him called triumphantly. He hushed it quickly, remaining unaffected.

 

Kagome sputtered for a few seconds, then wobbled back. She brought her spatula-wielding hand down, closed her eyes, and took a couple deep breaths. “Okay. Fine. You're going to stay until your pants are dry. Fair enough (except it for how it ISN'T. YOU DON'T LIVE OR GET NAKED HERE, BITCH!). Will you at least put on some replacement pants until you can get (the fuck) out?”

 

Ikeda shrugged again, moving past her to seat himself on the edge of her unmade bed stiffly. Kagome watched him, but was facing the door when he lifted his eyes back to her frame. She was too busy replaying the scene where for the first time ever she'd been graced with the presence of that one most elusive mythical creature: The Perfect Ass. Some part of her fluttered with content, the rest gripped her anger with iron shackles, trying to coax it past the heavy breathing and sweating that threatened her dignity. You don't want him. You don't. He's just a guy—you've seen a few naked. Let's get past that. She shuffled to her closet, searching for any pair of pants Miroku might've left for those times he was too drunk to drive home.

 

Rifling through clean clothing she could almost forget the harsh presence of the dog demon behind her. Sesshomaru, on the other hand, was having too much fun to think about being somewhere else. He watched as she shoved various clothing aside, contemplating how much he could goad her with his body before she realized he was doing it on purpose. How much is too much…? Sesshomaru reasoned with himself, guessing her limits based solely on his own perceptions. Clearly she was a loose woman with no real standards…so…the sky appears to be the limit!

 

Kagome jumped up, a pair of large pants in hand, “Yes! Score!” She turned to look at Ikeda and kept her eyes stubbornly on his face. “Here. Now you don't have to assault me with your gross flesh!”

 

Sesshomaru scoffed and stood. Kagome realized belatedly that, with the sudden change in height, she was now staring fixedly on his groin. On the upside, his shirt had fallen into place several seconds after he rose, so she got a nice view of his—

 

“Gross flesh, Higurashi? Is that why you seem so absorbed by it?”

 

He managed to catch the pants before they hit him, but he continued to enjoy her red face, even as she worked up a suitable response. “Oh, please. Like you wouldn't be staring at me if I wasn't wearing any pants.”

 

Sesshomaru inspected the pants, “I don't believe I would. I've seen enough women with no pants to be unfazed by your form.” How he managed to make a simple word like `form' sound like such an insult would keep Kagome awake many a night, damn youkai. “These pants will not fit.” He tossed them back.

 

Kagome glared at him, “They're good enough for right now.” She threw them at his head again.

 

Sesshomaru scowled at the offending article, “No. They are not. They smell of human. I will not degrade myself by donning shared pants.” He returned them.

 

Kagome blew her bangs out of her face, for the moment easily forgetting what he looked like from the waist down. “Will you just suck it up? I don't have anything else that'll fit, and you can't seriously expect me to be okay with you just hanging out here with no pants on. I wasn't okay with you hanging out here when you were fully dressed. This is pushing the limits of my sanity.”

 

“I was unaware there were limits to that which does not exist.”

 

She did a surprisingly decent imitation of him, looking him in the eye and raising a brow with all the egotism of a noble lord, “If I were you I wouldn't be ridiculing other people's sanity. You're the one standing in a potentially homicidal woman's apartment half-naked and willing.”

 

Sesshomaru smirked, “I never claimed to be `willing'.”

 

Kagome smiled and looked at the ground. “Oh. Of course. Silly me. I was under the impression that your earlier offer, you remember the one? I could indulge you in a meaningless bout of passion, yes, that one. I was under the impression you meant sex. As in, you were willing to have some merry meaningless sex. With me, the potentially homicidal woman.”

 

The demon tensed, his previously relaxed face now coldly pissed. How dare she remember that! Who did she think she was, remembering things that he said?! She shouldn't have been listening! She should've been too caught up in trying to imagine how he would look naked and wanting instead of paying attention! Bitch. “The offer no longer stands. Your lewd perusal of my person has convinced me you are, indeed, a whore.” He sniffed and walked out to the living room.

 

Kagome watched him go, not even interested in his ass for the time being. Very, very calmly she went over his words. He called her a whore. Therefore:

 

He was going to pay.

 

She nodded at her own decision, a flippant expression painting her face. Now, how does one go about punishing the worst asshole in the history of ever? Briefly, she toyed with the idea of just blindly attacking him, but the hope that she would land a couple of good punches and kicks was outweighed by the instinct to survive and not die by his—probably manicured—claws. Then she thought about pouring more water on his crotch and laughing at how small his penis was. She doubted that would work. He wasn't beastly (disregarding the fact that he actually was an animal and all), but Kagome hadn't seen any lack of bulge the couple times she'd been given a glimpse. Maybe she could severe an arm. It seemed appropriate. Then that damned survival bit kicked in again and that notion died quickly. Well, crap, where could she hurt him? Not in the ego, not in the manhood, what was left? Not much.

 

Genius struck.

 

Incapable of thinking past the moment, uncaring of negative repercussions, Kagome charged into the bathroom, a wicked smile befitting her wicked thoughts attached to her lips.

 

Sesshomaru, sensing a monumental disturbance in the force, walked back into the room right at the part where Kagome dropped his still wet slacks out the window. He blinked. A minute ago he had the upper hand, it was unforeseeable that she gain it back so fast. He watched, transfixed, as his pants rose for a brief moment on a passing wind, dancing along the line of windows in Kagome's bedroom, before they fluttered gracefully out of sight. Symbolically, it was the lowering of the racing flag, a final sign that all bets were off, and it was now his duty—nay, privilege to give this woman all the hell he was capable of. His head turned to the human. Kagome looked back at him, impassive except for the bit of smugness that leaked through. He now understood that he was dealing with a clinically insane girl of the highest caliber. Such situations must be treated lightly.

 

“You substandard wench,” He began delicately. “What in that insignificant little head of your's was going on? Tell me, because I'm afraid I have too many brain cells to comprehend.”

 

Kagome smiled serenely, exuding the same amount of inner calm Miroku did. “Sesshomaru-san, I was merely trying to free up space. See, I was about to take a shower, when I noticed that your pants were in the way. I would've simply set them down, except the vilest of smells was coming from them!” Her serene bit dropped and she leaned back against the sill of the open window arrogantly. “You'll find your wallet and keys in one of your socks. Also, you should get that odor checked out. I hear they have powders for those types of things now.”

 

Sesshomaru approached her slowly, feeling every bit the animal he was. Kagome noticed the predatory stalk and merely met his glare, matching his disgust tenfold. When he stood in front of her a little less then an arms length away, he clenched his fists slowly. “Your childish ways are both revolting and expected. I wonder how it is so many men stood your company for longer than was absolutely necessary.”

 

He couldn't say he wasn't expecting the slap that followed, what he wasn't expecting, however, was the strength behind it. The woman must've thrown most her weight into it. How she managed such a feat without getting any closer to him was nothing short of a miracle. When his head was on right again, he gave her a crippling glare, a glare that had taken him hundreds of years to perfect, a glare that once made the Southern Lord halt in his tracks and kneel before Sesshomaru.

 

Kagome simply smiled, “Its hard to look intimidating when clad in nothing more than one's underpants.”

 

Sesshomaru growled, low and long, “You will retrieve those.”

 

Kagome examined her fingernails. “No, no, I don't think I will. I'm going to go watch the TV and pretend you aren't here until you actually aren't.” She turned and closed the window, humming a light tune and trying not to laugh hysterically. When she turned back around, Sesshomaru was breathing on her face. She tried to be offended. He made the growling sound again, and now he was so close she was almost vibrating from the force.

 

“It will be hard to forget I am here if you are wracked with pain caused by my hand.”

 

Kagome considered this for a moment. Well, yes, it would be rather hard to just ignore him if those tapering, possibly serrated, claws of his were tearing into her skin… She swallowed and nodded slowly. She hadn't really been all that offended, anyway. I mean… I've been called worse. And the same. So, really, Ikeda was just lacking originality at the time and settled on the only word he knew. I've been calling him a whore all night. “You're right,” she immediately chose to ignore the high, panicked tremor of her voice. “I'm just going to run downstairs real quick and see if I can find those!” She offered him a brilliant smile. His response was another resonating growl followed by a small, wicked smirk. Kagome was a bit jealous of his ability to convey so much negativity in the smallest tilt of his lips. “Alright! Well, I'll just be getting those now!” She started to work her way around him, a hard feat since the bed was directly to her right and he was built like a roadblock. It also didn't help that he hadn't moved away from her, merely watched her with that cold grin of his. She smiled back, trying to portray happiness and good will and don't-kill-me-its-not-worth-the-carpet-stains. “Okay. I'm going to do that now,” one leg got around his, and she tried with all of her might not to let any part of her touch him, “Right now!” Try as she might to slip around him clean, she felt the fabric of her lounge pants brush one of his bare legs. Kagome made a mental note to give that pant leg quite the talking to later. “You don't worry about a thing, I'm going to find your pants and then wash and dry them and then who knows! Maybe we'll have some ice cream and watch Dead Poets Society, it's a great American movie and…” Some rebellious part of her brushed a rebellious part of him and Sesshomaru tilted his head, still cold and uncaring. Kagome looked at him, then down, then closed her eyes and jumped past him, unclean contact be damned.

 

Sesshomaru eyed her as she ran out of the apartment, forgetting her shoes and coat. He sniffed lightly then straightened, looking over his shoulder at the window she'd thrown his slacks out of. There was no way she was going to find them. That was grand, though, since he'd just make her run to his apartment and get a fresh pair.

 

He strolled out to the couch, seating himself on the right end. There was only empty air where the cushion on the left had previously been, and he was proud to have helped potentially ruin that small piece of Higurashi's life.

 

It was turning out to be a wonderful night in Sesshomaru's Universe.

 

Outside the apartment, Kagome stared down at her feet, pensive.

 

It took approximately 9.54 minutes to get down to the lobby on an average day. The elevator waiting and riding took most that time up, but the stairs were even longer. However, if Kagome used the stairs instead of the elevator, there was much less chance of being seen while she dragged Ikeda's lifeless body down to the dumpster outside the adjacent building's parking garage. The entire operation—with the use of the stairs instead of the elevator—would take an estimated 23 minutes. If she were lucky. And she never was.

 

Except for that one time back in her apartment with Sesshomaru's hot body.

 

But anyway.

 

Kagome started strolling towards the end of the hall, counting her steps. Yes, the stairs would be a safer bet, but what if she stuffed Ikeda's corpse into a trash or laundry bin and wheeled it around? He probably weighed a lot; she'd have to enlist Miroku's help. That was a small matter, though, since Miroku owed her more than he could ever hope to repay. Now all she would have to decide on was a good way to murder Sesshomaru. Also, she'd need an alibi. Maybe say she had left several hours before with Miroku to go to the airport and visit her mother? Of course, then she'd actually have to go see the old bat…

 

Okay. So killing the jerk was out of the question. (As it would lead to her MOTHER. That was a thousand times worse than anything Ikeda could hope to conjure up.) Kagome, pouting, pressed the down button and crossed her arms. That big sack of bitch in her apartment didn't know the meaning of chivalry. Or manners, for that matter. She wouldn't have thrown his damn pants out the window if he hadn't been talking out of his ass about her. Ikeda didn't even know her! Kagome… Kagome was a deep person. With deep thoughts, and aspirations, and other—deep—things.

 

She winced when she realized that sounded rather sexual, but persevered on in her thoughts.

 

Yeah, she was immature and petty and talked about cartoons a lot, but so? What did that mean except that she understood that life (for humans) was fucking short? Who was Sesshomaru to judge? He'd probably never tried to sit down with someone he didn't like and understand them. At least Kagome was making a goddamned effort to understand Ike—

 

Oh.

 

No, you aren't.

 

Looking at her blurred reflection in the elevator, Kagome winced.

 

Crap.

 

Alright, so I've basically thrown everything Ikeda has given me back in his face and maybe I never really did ask him about stuff to see his side and not make a ton of assumptions about him. And, I guess, that's bad. She sighed and looked at her feet again, shuffling them petulantly. Fine! I'll give the dick—I mean demon a chance. But he's going to blow it.

 

The gleaming doors opened, and Kagome stomped her way through the lobby and out the doors.

 

The air was cool, heavy with the twilight. Kagome stopped, let her tense shoulders fall. She took a deep breath (calmly ignoring the urge to choke on smog). Reasonably at ease, she started the Hunt for the Pants.

 

Several minutes later she found them in the hands of a thankful hobo, who was looking up at the sky with a large, decrepit smile. Kagome told herself not to cry and turned around, her steps slow on the path back to her apartment building. The warm air of the lobby made her sigh, the voice that called her name made her wince and run toward the elevator.

 

“Kagome! Kagome-san!” Daisuke followed after her quickly, waving a hand. Kagome slammed into the back wall of the elevator and lunged for the buttons, pressing up and praying with every bit of her strength. The doors were almost shut and Kagome almost ecstatic when a hand shot into them and they re-opened. Daisuke stood on the other side, winded but smiling. “I'm glad I could catch you, Kagome.”

 

Kagome nodded back politely. I'm not. “Its good to see you, Yamamoto-san.” Yes, good, keep him at a formal distance. He's old. And horny. And—

 

Daisuke stopped alarmingly close to Kagome inside the confined space of the elevator, smelling of black tea and cinnamon. He was facing her, green eyes genuinely happy beaming down at her, his clothes fresh and crisp and not at all wet, a bag of groceries in one hand.

 

—attractive. And he isn't really that old. Maybe thirty-five. Forty at most.

 

“I've been meaning to talk to you since…the other day. I, uhm, I just want you to know I don't blame you,” he cleared his throat and pushed a pair of glasses back in place. Kagome hadn't noticed them before, but now found them dangerously endearing. “I know I've been rather forward and I do apologize. Sincerely. I just felt so…alone after the,” he looked away, thinking, sad and in need of comfort, “incident. I just…I'm sorry. You're too good a person to be treated like that and, although I don't exactly know what was happening between you and that man in here, I understand it was none of my business. I only hope you aren't in a relationship with him so that I might try to pursue you again. The proper way.”

 

Kagome blinked. He clearly expected her to buy that bullshit.

 

“Oh, Daisuke. That's so kind of you.” Daisuke restrained himself from doing a slam-dunk motion. Kagome continued on, brimming with amusement. “I assure I am in no way associated with that horrible man. It was simply bad-timing that found us in such a position. I had so hoped you wouldn't be angry with me.”

 

The elevator opened, and Kagome skipped out, turning to say goodbye.

 

Instead, Daisuke followed her for some crazy reason, brushing past her towards her apartment. Kagome watched him, confused, then grabbed onto his arm, remembering for a terrible second about the still practically naked youkai lounging there. “What are you doing?” She asked the older man, squeaky.

 

Daisuke smiled back at her, something hidden in his eyes, “Why, I was going to walk you to your apartment…” He put his free hand on the hand she still hand wrapped around his elbow, towing her along gaily.

 

Kagome panicked, trying to whip a plan out of her ass. Uhm, uhm, uhm— The apartment loomed closer. Uhm! Uhm! ACK! Daisuke stopped outside of her home, clearly waiting for her to open the door so he could wander inside and accidentally fall inside her. Kagome planted herself in front of it, “Well, this was sure nice of you. I'll call you or something. Good—”

 

“How's the kitten?” He interrupted warmly.

 

“Great! Great! Just great! Its all great! Okay, well, bye—”

 

Inside, something made a rather loud thump. Daisuke's eyebrows drew down. “What was that?”

 

“Probably the cat, you know how rambunctious they are at this age,” another muffled sound. Daisuke leaned forward. “Did I tell you I named him? Taro. Like the cards. Except its spelled differently and I've never used tarot cards they kinda scare me—”

 

THUMP.

 

“I should check that out,” Daisuke said while gently pushing her to the side. Kagome yanked back at him, saying a bunch of random things strung together, hyperventilating. Daisuke threw open the door.

 

Sesshomaru looked up, bored. In front of him Taro pawed at him through the small openings in a laundry basket. A few heavy books sat on top the basket, trapping the kitten. Sesshomaru was still pants less. Kagome felt herself die on the inside. Daisuke looked at him, glanced at his bare legs, back at the cat, then finally turned to Kagome.

 

“I can see you have a busy night planned,” Daisuke murmured, both confused and a little angry. “It also appears that your tastes lie in the realm of the horrible. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Again.”

 

Kagome looked at him, “No. They don't. It's a really long story and I know things look bad, but honestly. That,” she pointed to Sesshomaru, who went with his first instinct and raised an eyebrow, “is most certainly not my taste. I poured water on him and he was pissed then I was pissed and then I tossed his pants out the window and it's just been a really, really long day.” She pouted at the end of her impromptu speech, her brain whirling with pissed off sentiments of doom.

 

Daisuke blinked and glanced back at Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru smirked. Daisuke shook his head, “That's nice, Kagome.” He walked away, still shaking his head back and forth. Kagome watched him go, then looked at Sesshomaru.

 

“A homeless gentleman in the alley next to us is now the proud owner of your pants.” Sesshomaru considered that bit of information for a moment then nodded, moving to settle back on the couch. Kagome looked at the pitiful picture Taro made, “Why have you imprisoned my cat?”

 

Sesshomaru channel surfed, inattentive. “It was testing me.”

 

Kagome looked at the cat. “Testing.”

 

Sesshomaru nodded once.

 

“…What?”

 

Ikeda sighed. “It would not let me watch television without climbing into my lap. This one does not allow animals into his lap. I am not furniture. When I threw the thing off, it jumped back on. We continued this for several minutes. So I fixed it.”

 

Lifting books off of the plastic confinement, Kagome frowned. “You're one of those guys who doesn't read the instruction manual, aren't you?”

 

Sesshomaru turned to observe her over his shoulder. “I find instruction manuals dull and unnecessary. No, I don't read them.”

 

Kagome looked up at him, “Yeah. Thought so.” She stood and clapped her hands. “Alright, Taro-boy! You're free!” Taro decided to spend his newfound freedom the right way: by licking himself. After he was done, though, that big ugly dog was going to get quite a scratch. Kagome rolled her eyes as he began systematically cleaning his tail. She looked back at Ikeda, who was pretending to watch the news. Her couch was missing a cushion. If she went to sit down on the couch, she would have to be in the middle, which was in touching distance of the No-Pants Bandit (it was a working nickname, no you may not comment). What to do…I can't just stand here like a moron… Okay, I'll flip a coin! She pulled a penny out of her pocket. It was the only coin she had. Heads: I go to the kitchen and pretend to do something, Tails: I bite the bullet and sit down next to him. She tossed the coin up, missed catching it by several inches, watched as it bounced off Taro's head, then bent down to review the results. Tails. Two out of three! She repeated the process, however, this time Taro was ready, and he batted it out of the air before it hit him. It flew towards the back of the couch. Kagome followed it on hands and knees. Tails. …Three out of four. Once again, she threw it up, only this time it landed to the left of the demon on her couch. Kagome stood to follow it, and then had to lean over the back of the couch to examine it. Tails. She sighed forlornly and started squirming, trying to not fall on her neck into the couch.

 

Sesshomaru watched her silently, her ass right next to his ear.

 

When she started mumbling about rigged coins, he examined the day from start to finish. When she fell from all her moving and kicked him in the back of his neck, he re-evaluated his reasons for even showing up at her apartment in the first place. When she straightened herself out, penny enclosed in a tiny fist, hair mussed and brows drawn low, he counted the hours he'd been here (which was almost three), and clicked his claws together once. This was, by far, the most bizarre day he'd had in a long time. Even crazier than the one where his friends had taken him out, gotten him drunk, and almost raped (because it was their fault, you see). And he didn't really know how to feel about it.

 

Yes, he'd lost a nice pair of slacks, but he never really valued pants that much. It wasn't like he didn't have more. And Higurashi was a nuisance in of herself, but she had this thin layer of entertainment that made him value her. A little. About as much as he used to value the sudden death of an energetic weak-willed youkai. Not as good as a massacre or an old-fashioned torture-session, but enough to appease him for the time being.

 

Aforementioned Sudden Death growled next to him, and he turned to her. “Can we not watch the news? Its depressingly realistic.”

 

“Reality is depressing. You can't be optimistically realistic.”

 

“Yes, you can.”

 

“Not if you are conveying pure facts.”

 

“What about charity and people help each other in natural catastrophes and—”

 

“What about the people charity doesn't affect, the constant need for charity? What about all the lives lost in such catastrophes? What about the catastrophes caused by people?”

 

Kagome glared at him, “What about you not being a dick?”

 

Sesshomaru snorted and stared back at her, “What about you not talking like a teenage boy?”

 

Kagome chose to reply not like a teenage boy by sticking out her tongue. Sesshomaru grimaced—her tongue was disturbingly close to his face. Out of nowhere, Taro planted himself in Sesshomaru's bare lap, claws extended. Sesshomaru looked down as the cat began kneading, looking positively devious. For a cat. Sesshomaru pushed it off of him, ignoring the long line of welts that followed its descent to the ground. Kagome watched, her eyes wide. “Oh! I'm so sorry!” She ran to the kitchen, returning with a wet towel. She started dabbing at his thighs carefully, muttering apologies and taking all the blame.

 

Sesshomaru watched her, astonished. It wasn't like the cat had done any real damage, the welts would be gone in a matter of minutes. And why was she touching his skin? He hadn't asked her to. No one ever touched him without him first telling him or her that it was okay (or demanding it). Not outside shaking hands. Everyone was too frightened. Well, there were women who would throw themselves at him, but surely Kagome would've done that the second he stepped out of the bathroom if she really felt like it. She'd gaped for a while, and blushed, but didn't throw herself. (He couldn't honestly say it hadn't disappointed him a little). Finally, she stopped, and pulled back to look at him, the damp towel in her lap. “Why don't you give me your keys so I can go get a pair of pants for you so you can go home?”

 

Sesshomaru still found himself shocked. She touched his bare skin then basically told him to get the hell out? That had never happened before. “And I should trust you with the keys to my home because…?”

 

Kagome rolled her eyes, angry again, all concern gone. “Because there is nothing in your apartment that would interest me. Also, I want you out of my apartment!”

 

Sesshomaru glared. “Fine. One floor up. Apartment 256.”

 

While Kagome stood and shuffled back into her bathroom where she'd put his keys in a sock earlier, Sesshomaru wondered at his own actions.

 

Mostly he wondered why he'd stuck around here so long.

 

He came to a simple conclusion:

 

The axis of Sesshomaru's Universe had been flipped over onto its head, the cause the one and only Kagome “Sudden Death” Higurashi. He was merely sticking around to figure out how she'd managed such a feat in a few days. Why he was in her apartment?

 

…Because his was drafty.

 

And her cat needed to be trained. He was the only one adeptly qualified to do such in this damned building.

 

Oh! She also deserved hell! For listening to him and whatnot.

 

As the door shut behind her, Sesshomaru stood and sniffed out the cat that had worked its way under her desk. The two glared at each other.

 

It was to be an epic battle of rights: Who deserved to hold all of Kagome's attention more? The Demon Lord of Half-Naked Glory, or the cat?

 

Sesshomaru cracked his knuckles and grabbed the laundry basket.

 

Behind him, sitting innocently on the coffee table, lay the penny that had placed Kagome next to him in thigh-wiping distance. A coin with tails on both ends—something Miroku often used when making bets or trying to get laid or just showing off. Kagome had forgotten that it was altogether impossible to get tails so many times in a row.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back at “home”, Daisuke stomped into the living room with his wife's groceries, tossing them at her without a second glance. Ayumi ripped into the bag, looking for her ice cream and a new box of tissue. She'd been weeping for the past couple hours, whimpering and sniffing and make all sorts of noises Daisuke found annoying.

 

She ripped the carton open and attacked it with the already sticky spoon that had been sitting next to her, tears dripping down into the chocolate as she stared blankly at the television and hiccupped. Daisuke rolled his eyes grandly, settling in the armchair as far away from her as possible. “What is your problem?”

 

Ayumi whipped her head toward him furiously, “Don't ASK. It isn't like you care. And you certainly wouldn't understand.”

 

Daisuke grabbed the remote, “Write this day down.”

 

Ayumi pulled the spoon out of her mouth, “What for?”

 

“It's the first time in five years you've said something we can both agree on.”

 

She threw the spoon at him with all her scorned womanly might, screeching. Daisuke turned to her when it hit his forehead and stuck there, quivering a couple of breathless seconds before dropping to his lap. Ayumi smiled widely, positive that that was the most perfect thing ever. Daisuke picked up the spoon and gently tossed it to the cushion next to her on the couch. “How mature of you.” Ayumi sniffed and dug back into her ice cream, nose in the air. Daisuke changed the station to the news. “You shouldn't put your nose in the air like that. It makes you look like you have a pig's snout.”

 

He didn't bother to block the spoon this time, either. But instead of throwing it back he licked the chocolate off the back then dropped it on the floor.

 

Ayumi started yelling.

 

Daisuke watched her, amused.

 

In the bathroom, under the closed lid of their toilet, an eerie green mass was slowly working it's way up the side of the bowl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kagome: That's going to be us if we get married. We should just back out now.

 

Sesshomaru: We aren't going to get married. We're going to unmake some sheets then… We aren't going to get married, are we?

 

 

 

 

 

Author: My vote lies with the `unmake a whole lot of sheets then open a small diner and have a million kids' plan!

 

Plot: …NO!

 

Author: How many times do I have to tell you? You don't have a say about anything. Except maybe Taro. You can control him. But only a little! And I get to approve everything!

 

Plot: But a diner? Sesshomaru can't cook!

 

Author: Then we'll put him out front in his underwear. See? Problem solved.