InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ Chapter twelve ( Chapter 12 )

This chapter is for Ficfan and Hyperchica, two dedicated (if not sometimes impatient) fans who've done their best to kick me into finishing this, and as always for my lovely editor Tsuki.

The Short Straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter Twelve

Kagome spent the afternoon the same way she'd spent the morning-- cooking and cleaning, though her enthusiasm for both was considerably diminished. At least she wouldn't have to worry about running out of things to do, she thought with a touch of sharp humor.

By the time the evening meal was on the table, she was too tired to care if the men ate with their feet, which was just as well because the scene was a repeat of the one at noon.

Once the meal was finished, the hands returned to the bunkhouse. Koga and Miroku disappeared into the den to go over some paperwork and Kagome was left with the wreck of her kitchen. Her jaw set with annoyance, she cleaned up the new mess as quickly as possible, then heated water to take upstairs so that she could wash up.

Koga had just struck a match to light his cigarette when he heard Kagome's footsteps on the stairs. He promptly lost track of his conversation with Miroku. Was she going up to bed? He didn't have to close his eyes to picture the way she'd looked the night before, with her hair tumbling almost to her hips and her dark eyes soft with innocence and passion, a potent combination. Would she put on the same nightdress? He'd enjoy taking it off again, sliding his hands under the layers of fine muslin to find the even softer skin beneath. He'd-

"Dammit!" The curse exploded from him as the forgotten match burned down to his fingers. He dropped the match, shaking his singed hand and glaring at his brother, who was grinning unsympathetically.

"Thought you might have forgotten about it." Miroku said.

"You could have said something," Koga blew on his fingertips to cool the burn.

"Could have," Miroku agreed, still grinning. He struck a match on the heel of his boot and lit his own cigarette before leaning forward to do the same for his brother. "But I figured you'd remember it before it did any permanent damage."

"Thanks," Koga said dryly. He heard Kagome moving around in the bedroom above them and it took considerable effort to keep his mind from drifting to what she might be doing.

"She's done a lot of work." It was obvious that Miroku knew what had his older brother so distracted. "Place looks better already."

"Yeah." Koga said absently. The truth was, he hadn't paid much attention to what the house looked like. Somehow, after last night, he found himself less concerned with his bride's housekeeping skills. But now that Miroku had mentioned it, he noticed that the layers of dust that had coated every surface were gone.

"And she's a damn good cook," Miroku added. He stretched and settled back in his chair before taking another draw on his cigarette.

"Best biscuits I've ever eaten," Koga said, feeling a stir of pride.

"Can't argue that."

But Koga lost the conversational train again as a floorboard creaked overhead. Was she getting undressed? Or maybe she was already undressed and was now taking her hair down and running a brush through her thick, dark waves.

He jerked, startled, as Miroku leaned forward and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers. "You burn yourself again and you're not going to be fit to handle a rope." Miroku said as he crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Koga flushed, annoyed with himself for becoming distracted again. Dammit, what was it about her that made it so hard to put her out of his mind? Mercifully, Miroku refrained from commenting, though the laughter in his eyes suggested that there was plenty he could have said, if he'd chosen.

"The boys were planning a poker game tonight. You going to join in?"

Koga opened his mouth to say he would and the floorboards shifted over them again. "Not tonight."

He ignored his brother's knowing grin as he said goodnight and went out to the bunkhouse. Koga blew out the lamp and climbed the stairs with a slow, deliberate pace, ignoring the steady beat of arousal that urged him to hurry.

She was leaning over the bed to turn back the quilt when he entered the room, but she straightened and turned to look at him, her eyes dark and unreadable. She was wearing the same nightdress she'd worn the night before but her wrapper lay across the foot of the bed.

Kagome had planned to be in bed asleep before Koga came upstairs. She was tired from the work she'd done, but more than that, she was no more certain that marrying Koga had been the right thing to do than she had been before she married him. And that uncertainty was all the more unsettling for the intimacy they'd shared the night before.

But Koga had come up to bed sooner than she'd anticipated. She watched him now, wondering what he'd say, wondering what she should say in return. They'd spent so little time talking, so little time getting to know each other.

But Koga didn't seem to be in a conversational mood. Without saying a word, he came toward her, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. Kagome felt her breath catch as he shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. She swallowed and tried to find her voice, though she wasn't sure what she planned to say.

Koga's hand came up, his fingers deft as he untied the ribbon that held the end of her braid. In seconds her hair was spilling over his hand. Kagome opened her mouth-to protest?-but Koga's lips covered hers and whatever sound she might have made vanished with a sigh. Somehow, her fingers were sliding into the thick darkness of his hair, her mouth opening to invite his possession.

Held like this, pressed so close to him, her uncertainty faded. Koga's arms were so strong, his touch so sure. Something so sweet couldn't possibly be a mistake, could it? And then he was easing her back onto the bed, following her down, and Kagome stopped thinking altogether.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

"They eat like a bunch of savages, Sango."

"Men are savages." Sango's calm response drew a quick laugh from Kagome but it ended in a discouraged sigh.

"I don't know what to do." Kagome admitted. "I've read about the civilizing influence a woman's supposed to have on men but I haven't seen much evidence of it so far."

"It's only been two weeks, Kagome. They've had two years to revert to behavior more natural to them. It's going to take time and persistence to change their bad habits."

The two women were seated in the newly cleaned parlor of the Sukanami house. Sango had driven out to visit. After two weeks in exclusively male company, Kagome would have been grateful to see any woman, but she was especially grateful to see Sango. She refilled their cups from the teapot and settled back into her chair.

"I thought maybe just knowing I was there would make them remember their manners," she said. "But yesterday one of the men grabbed a handful of meat off the platter and dropped it on his plate. I'm surprised he didn't growl while he was eating it."

Sango smiled sympathetically. "You have to be firm with them, Kagome. Subtlety doesn't work with men. Unless they're hit over the head with something, chances are they won't pay any attention to it."

"I can't scold them as if they were children."

"Why not? In my experience, men frequently act like children. It might do them some good to be treated as such."

"It might, but I'm not going to be the one to do it." Kagome's imagination quailed at the thought.

"Then ask Koga to say something to them." Sango suggested.

"Koga?" Kagome's tone was so blank that Sango's brows rose again.

"Koga. Your husband." She said.

"I know who he is." Kagome flushed and looked away.

"I thought you might have forgotten."

"Of course not." Kagome took a sip from her teacup, using the action as an excuse to avoid her friend's eyes for a moment. "I couldn't ask him to speak to the men," she said as she set her cup back in its saucer.

"Why not?"

"I just couldn't." She caught Sango's look and sighed. Sango could be annoyingly stubborn at times. "I don't really . . .know him well enough," she said slowly, trying to put her feelings into words. "We've only been married two weeks and I don't really feel comfortable making demands."

Sango considered that for a moment and then shook her head. "I think you're wrong, Kagome. The longer you go not making any demands, the harder it's going to be to make them." She lifted on hand to still the argument she could see in Kagome's eyes. "I'm not suggesting that you turn into a shrew overnight, but you don't have to be a doormat, either."

"I'm not a doormat," Kagome protested.

"Have you had a fight with Koga?"

"No, but-"

"Then you're a doormat." Sango's tone brooked no argument.

"But we've only been married two weeks," Kagome protested.

"Past time for a fight. Or at least a small quarrel. You spent too many years living with your aunt, learning to hold your tongue because it did you no good to do otherwise."

"I can't just pick a fight with Koga over nothing."

"There's always something to quarrel with a man about." Sango spoke with the voice of experience and Kagome smiled despite herself.

A comfortable silence fell between the two women. Kagome sipped her tea and felt herself relax for the first time in two weeks. There was mending to be done and in a little while she needed to start preparations for supper-- feeding the animals, as she'd come to think of it. But for now she wouldn't think of anything beyond enjoying the moment.

"What about his brother?" Sango asked abruptly.

"Miroku? What about him?"

"What's he like? I mean, have you found him to be pleasant?"

"Yes." Kagome's answer was slow. She wondered the reason for Sango's question. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered." Sango seemed interested in a minute spot on the skirt of her rose-colored silk dress.

"You're attracted to him." Kagome's tone was gleeful.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sango snapped. Her cheeks were pinker than they had been. "I was just making polite conversation, that's all."

"He is attractive," Kagome said, ignoring her friend's feeble protests. "Oh, Sango, it would be such fun if you married Miroku! Then we'd be sisters by marriage."

"Marry him? I don't even know him!" But Sango's protest wasn't as vehement as it might have been.

"We can take care of that. Once he meets you, he'll fall in love with you."

"We've been introduced and he showed no signs of being smitten. He barely noticed me at your wedding," Sango observed with a hint of annoyance.

"There was so much hustle and bustle, I doubt he could have pointed out the bride," Kagome said soothingly.

It was all she could do to refrain from rubbing her hands together with glee. In the years she'd known Sango, this was the first interest her friend had ever shown in someone of the opposite sex, despite the fact that several eligible bachelors had put considerable effort into courting the young widow. That it should be Miroku who attracted Sango's eye was just too perfect.

"You could invite us to dinner," she suggested. "That would give Miroku a chance to get to know you."

"Absolutely not!" Sango's teacup clattered against the saucer as she set them both down. "I won't stoop to chasing the man. Besides, you're jumping to conclusions. I never said I found him the least bit attractive."

"But you didn't say that you didn't, either." Kagome's tone was sly. She was not in the least discouraged by Sango's attitude. All she had to do was make sure their paths crossed and trust Miroku to have the good sense to see what a wonderful wife Sango would make.

"I don't know what you're plotting, but I want no part of it," Sango said when she saw the look in her friend's eyes. Her movements were agitated as she stood and reached for her reticule and gloves. "I should be getting home."

She appeared relieved when Kagome didn't pursue the topic of Miroku's suitability as husband material. Sango asked if Kagome and Koga would be attending the upcoming Fourth of July celebration in Black Dog. Kagome didn't know but said she'd ask Koga.

"Don't forget to do so. It wouldn't be much fun without you." Sango brushed a kiss on Kagome's cheek. "And don't forget that a good quarrel can do wonders for a marriage. Besides, it can be such fun to make up," she added with a wicked smile that made Kagome blush.

Kagome stayed on the porch, watching as Sango drove her smart little buggy out of the yard. She waited until it was out of sight before turning back to the house. She mulled over Sango's suggestion that she needed to be more demanding but discarded it almost immediately. Sango just didn't understand. True, she had been married, which made her the voice of experience. But Sango had been in love with her husband and he with her. Their situation had been altogether different from hers and Koga's.

Ask Koga to speak to the men? How could she? Aside from the time they spent in bed together, she felt as if she barely knew him. Outside the bedroom they rarely exchanged more than a few sentences in a day. And they didn't talk much inside the bedroom either, she admitted, flushing as she considered what they did do.

Still, wonderful as his lovemaking was, it wasn't enough to satisfy the part of her that insisted there was more to a marriage than that. Other than in bed, she might almost have been invisible for all the attention Koga paid her. Not that he was ever rude, but she wanted more than politeness from him. She wanted . . .

She wanted him to love her. No matter how often she told herself that it was a foolish, romantic notion, that marriage didn't require love, she couldn't give up the dream of having a husband who loved her the way her father had loved her mother.

Kagome grinned as she considered Sango's suggestion that she pick a fight with Koga. Somehow, she couldn't quite believe that was the best way to make a man fall in love with her. Obviously, she'd have to think of something else.

In the meantime, there was dinner to prepare and she still had to think of some way to persuade the men that eating like a pack of wolves was not the best form of behavior. If only she knew how this feminine "civilizing influence" was supposed to work. Lord knew, she needed a double dose of it here.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

If Koga had suspected that Kagome was less than content with their marriage, he would have been surprised. As far as he was concerned, marriage was a great deal better than he'd ever anticipated. When he's listed the attributes he required in a wife, he'd had little hope of fulfilling them all, but he managed to do just that.

Dust no longer coated every surface. Meals were neither burned nor raw. In fact, if he had a complaint about his wife's cooking, it was that it was too good. It took a considerable effort of will to drag himself from the table and climb back into the saddle. His clothes were clean and mended, he was well-fed, his house was becoming a home again and, on top of all that, he'd married a woman with all the sweet passion a man could possibly want.

He'd made a good choice, he thought, his gaze pardonably smug as he looked around the parlor, admiring the gleaming surfaces and the renewed color of his mother's rug, which had been thoroughly beaten a few days ago then re-laid over the clean wooden floor.

"Place looks like it used to," Miroku commented, his thoughts moving along the same lines as his brother's.

"Yup."

"Best pie I've ever sunk a tooth into." Miroku went on.

"She can cook." Koga allowed a trace of smugness to color his words.

Hearing it, Miroku grinned. "Got just about everything you wanted."

"Yup."

"No regrets?"

"Nope." He wondered if Kagome was in bed yet. The thought of going up to join her held a great deal of interest. He tilted his head toward the door, thinking he'd heard something, but Miroku spoke before he could decide for sure.

"I never thought I'd envy you for drawing the short straw when we decided one of us had to get married," Miroku said ruefully.

He would have said more, but this time they both heard the same sound. A startled gasp, followed by a soft flurry of movement from the direction of the hall. Koga was on his feet and in the doorway in the space of a heartbeat. He caught only a glimpse of Kagome's ankles as she disappeared up the stairs in a swirl of muslin.

He winced as the sound of their bedroom door being slammed echoed through the house. His face expressionless, he turned back to his brother.

Miroku cleared his throat. "You hadn't told her about us drawing straws?" he asked.

"Didn't seem much point in it," Koga shrugged.

"Women can be a little peculiar about things like that." Miroku stood to head out to the bunkhouse.

"She may be a little annoyed, but she's a sensible girl. I'll have a little talk with her." Koga said in his best husbandly tone.

"There's room in the bunkhouse." Miroku offered.

"She's not the sort to throw a fit."

Miroku gave him a doubtful look as he bent to pick up his hat from where it rested on the sofa. He put it on, looking at his brother from beneath its shadow. "I said it before but I'll say it again. Ain't the woman been born that can't throw a fit, given the right circumstances."

"My wife doesn't throw fits." Koga said firmly, confident he was right.

"There's room in the bunkhouse." Miroku clapped his hand on Koga's shoulder before leaving.

Koga waited until he heard the front door shut behind Miroku before heading upstairs. If Kagome was going to throw a fit, he had no desire for Miroku to hear it. Not that he thought for a minute that she was going to do any such thing. But it did occur to him as he reached the second floor that he really hadn't spent all that much time with his bride, other than in bed, of course. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he might.

He reached for the doorknob and felt a surge of relief when it turned easily beneath his hand. He'd half expected the door to be locked against him. She might be a little upset. Maybe she'd even shed a few tears, but she was a sensible girl and she'd be reasonable. Koga pushed open the door and stepped into the room, prepared to comfort his weeping bride.

"What the--" He ducked as a book sailed past his ear and slammed into the wall beside the door. His eyes followed its trajectory back to the source and his reasonable explanation for what Kagome overheard vanished from his thoughts.

His gentle, sensible bride stood on the other side of the bed, the fury in her eyes at odds with the flowing femininity of her nightdress and wrapper. Maybe she wasn't going to be reasonable after all, Koga decided as he pushed the door quietly shut behind him.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

Uh oh, trouble in paradise….