Title: Winter's Touch
Rating:PG
Author: Personification of Fluff
Summary: Au. Fluff. Uber-fluff. I was cleaning my computer one day and found it. I think I was in a sad mood and wanted something happy to cheer me up. Enjoy!
Winter's Touch
It was only November, but it was finally starting to feel like winter. The temperature had dropped low; low enough that when Sango went outside she could see her breath. It had also been snowing non-stop for the past three days, yet there was only a few inches of snow on the ground. The sky was grey, no hint of the sun or a relief of blue visible for as far as the eye could see: just grey and the white of snow.
Standing outside, Sango lifted her face, feeling flakes land on her cheeks and nose and melt immediately, leaving caressing trails in their wake. She sighed with happiness. Sango loved it when the weather turned into snow. She loathed the cold, which was why she had wrapped herself up in thick blue jeans and layers of sweater, scarves, and a jacket, but she loved the snow. It made the world seem still and perfect. Her red lips pulled back into a smile and she struggled to contain a giggle which heartily refused and escaped.
"Who would have though Sango actually giggled?" came a drawling voice from behind her. She recognized the voice immediately and her relaxed shoulders squared. She slowly looked over her shoulder to glare at the young man approaching her, though she had to work to keep it.
Miroku. Nothing was quiet and peaceful when he was around. Sango hated him—no, that was too strong a word. Sango disliked Miroku, and for good reason. He was, as far as she was concerned, her arch nemesis. He was constantly showing off and making fun of her, groping her, and not to mention he had the sheer audacity of constantly succeeding to surpass her at anything she tried to do! For a fourth year in unviersity, that was all it took to be considered an arch nemesis.
Of course, never mind that he was also her closest male friend, a fact Sango was rarely ready to admit. Her best friend was Kagome, a bit of a ditz but a nice enough girl, whose only fault was that she was considered "too sweet". Miroku, however, was the one who was always encouraging Sango to do more, to push herself further by way of annoyingly pointing out that if he could do it, she should be able to do it as well.
But the real fault of Miroku was that as much as Sango found him annoying, licentious, and not to mention perverted, he was an attractive person. Not just in looks. In looks, Sango couldn't think of a man she was more attracted to—only to be repulsed when he grabbed her butt. As he walked towards her, snow caught in his black hair, making it glitter like mica as it melted. His cheeks were pink from the cold in the air, and his smile was wider than an elf's on Christmas Eve. There was something transcendent about Miroku which was also appealing. You could see it when you looked into his eyes. They were a pale sort of blue, occasionally looking violet in the right light, and they were clear and good eyes. Despite all his lecherous remarks, he was a good person.
She had known him for long enough to know that. He could be sweet and understanding, at times almost even chivalrous. But whenever he was around Sango, he was just an arrogant jerk so confident in his good looks that charming his way into Sango's bed had become a pastime for him. He never showed her the sweet, caring side he showed to people like Kagome—people who were already in relationships and who could therefore be only "good friends".
He'd asked her out, once. Sure, they'd been fourteen at the time, but he had. Sango regretted her words, even years later. She had looked at him pointedly and demanded: 'who would want to go out with a pervert like you?'
So that explained why he continued to flirt with her and grope her. He knew she didn't like it. The groping was revenge. He was playing up the lecher she had labeled him to be. It also explained why he continued to flaunt the girlfriends he had had in her face. He was trying to make her jealous. It was a clear statement: she has what you could have had; me.
"Tell anybody that I giggle and I'll kill you," she told Miroku, though the statement was not without good humor. She eyed the bags he held, pop and chips visible. They were almost identical to her own. "So Kagome invited you to the movie-a-thon, did she?"
Miroku nodded pleasantly. When he caught up with her, they began walking again, their strides matching in a way which both of them pretended not to notice. "She did. I have to admit, I'm not particularly fond of the movies she's playing, though…"
"Why bother attending then? Surely you have other things you could be doing instead."
He smiled at her. "Like studying for exams coming up in three weeks? Yes. That could be a little bit helpful. But at the same time, I enjoy the company that will be there. I'm going to see people, Sango, not the movies."
When he said things like that, sometimes she could feel her heart actually hurt as it decided between jumping excitedly and picking up pace. The way he said it made it sound like he was going to go just to spend time with her—which was ridiculous! She smacked him and ignored him and got into fights with him. Jesus, they'd been kicked out of movie theatres before for their behavior; the last thing they needed was to get kicked out by Kagome's mother! The feeling of excitement and paranoia that followed such statements was then followed by guilt and self-hatred. There was no way Miroku had been taking about Sango. Just how large of a swelled head did she have if she thought he was constantly flirting with her and trying to spend time with her? Oh, if people knew the things she thought about herself…
She distracted herself by looking at the falling snow. Miroku followed her gaze. Sango noticed it too. "I love falling snow. It's like…"
"Poetry?" Miroku suggested when she fell silent. His smile turned into an understanding grin. "Or perhaps music. You can almost hear the angels singing as you watch the flakes drift down, as if they bring a bit of heaven with them."
Sango frowned a little at that. She stopped on the sidewalk, her toes cold as she stood amidst the falling snow. "You're making fun of me now," she accused. "Why do you always have to do that?"
To her surprise, he appeared wounded. "I promise you I am not making fun of you, Sango. You're not the only one who grew up enjoying a good snow fall. I do too."
Inside, Sango winced, but she made no apology. She turned and kept walking. After a moment, Miroku caught up to her. By now, she felt he was far too close to her. If his hands weren't occupied with his bags, she would have thought he was trying to sneak a grope again. She glanced over at him, finding him look strangely pensive, his blue eyes confused. With a sigh, Sango asked him what was wrong.
"I… I… it's nothing, Sango."
She peered at him curiously a moment and looked straight ahead as she spoke, trying to appear casual. "You always do that to me. You always look at me a certain way, and look as if you mean to speak and ask something important, and then you go quiet. If you mean to ask me something, you might as well ask it. Otherwise you'll never get an answer and we'll both continue to be frustrated."
His breath hung in the air as he breathed again, drawing slowly to a halt. Sango watched it drift between them on the wind. "You don't like me, do you, Sango?"
Miroku's question caught her off guard. She watched the snow land in his hair as she thought about it, damning him for having such nice hair. "I don't hate you," she finally supplied. Her body, underneath her heavy coat, was shivering a little. She was used to moving to keep up her warmth.
"I didn't ask if you hate me. I asked if you loved me." Both of them blanched when they realized the Freudian slip. Sango looked away, and from the corner of her eye, she watched as the winded red apples of his cheeks darkened to spread across the bridge of his nose from the force of his blush. She stared at it curiously. Miroku was hard to make blush, and she understood why. It wasn't exactly as complementing on him as it was on her. "I meant to ask if you liked me…"
"I know you did." She shook her long head of hair, shaking loose the snowflakes that were weighing it down. The pompom on her warm hat wobbled. "You're thinking of asking me out again, aren't you?"
He stared at her and then slowly nodded, grinning a little sheepishly. "I wouldn't be going to this thing if it wasn't to see you. I don't need to watch Inuyasha and Kagome snuggle and me not having anyone there—and you never bring anyone either, so it's like we're a couple in our singlehood…"
"So you can always rely on me to be your fellow third wheel?" she asked icily. His eyes flashed so quickly that she wasn't sure if the subtle change had been from anger or hurt. Her comment had been unfounded. As she thought about it, she realized that no, he never had brought a date to the parties Kagome threw. He may have flaunted girls off at dances or in the school cafeteria, but never when it was just their group of friends.
She thought briefly about his dating history. There had been the period he'd dated Ayame in first year, broken up because things just "weren't working out". The following year it had been Kagome, Sango's best friend and new to the school, who had dumped Miroku in the morning after six months and had started dating Inuyasha by that same evening. Then there was his brief stint with Kagura—let's just say that Miroku didn't take too kindly to being told he was so whipped she had his balls in a mason jar under her sink. And then there had been that crazy chick. She'd been the final straw and for the past two years, Miroku and Jakotsu had been so tight that it was rumoured Miroku had decided to play for the other side.
Of course, if that was true than Sango still felt he groped her ass too much for a gay guy.
In comparison, the longest relationship Sango'd ever had was dating Kouga in grade nine. That had lasted for two and a half months, and because Kouga had claimed he'd been grounded the whole time, they had never even gone out on a date. He'd broken it off saying he felt uncomfortable. They had briefly dated again the following fall, but he was too clingy. Sango didn't like, at that time, how he had kept his arm around her shoulders as if claiming territory. Still… he had been her first kiss, and her first boyfriend as well as her longest relationship, so Sango still had some feelings for him. Even if those feelings, over the past years, were feelings of fondness someone would have over a little brother, wanting to protect him and see him succeed because he was family.
After having avoided dating and men for so long, Sango wondered if she even was qualified to admit liking somebody romantically. How did she know? She shifted her weight, curling her toes in her boots to make them warmer. Miroku was waiting for an answer. "I… I don't know."
He laughed wearily. "How can you not know if you like somebody?"
She pursed her lips, detesting that laugh. Miroku had nice laughs, but that particular laugh grated her nerves. That laugh was reserved for when he was laughing at her, as if she was some naive, petulant child. "You want the truth, Miroku? Fine. I do get jealous when I see you with other women, but I still dislike you for always groping me! I hate it when you treat me like a child because I'm more interested in study and socializing then I am in dating. I'm tired of you treating me like a girl one second, and then calling me cold in the next breath because I never return your advances! My answer is the same that it was in high school and it will continue to be that until I think you're interested in me for being me rather than simply conquering something you could never have before!"
He flinched, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes. Sango realized it was just a mask, though. The spark was nothing but a feint, a distraction from the way his mouth had pulled down slightly. She'd offended him, and that bothered Sango. It always did. On the one hand, it made her feel guilty because offending him hadn't been her intent. On the other hand, it made her feel the righteous fury of indignation, because how dare he get angry when she was the one always being hurt by his actions and him never showing the slightest sign of remorse. Was she really going to let herself be a walking pad, there for him wipe his bloody, heart-bled footprints on whenever he needed a guilt-stop?
"You're right," he sighed. "I could never get you." Sango turned and started walking. She didn't know if she was glad to hear that sigh or not. His next words made her stop in the sidewalk, her bags of chips slowly growing heavy the longer she held them. "That's exactly why I'm going to keep trying."
She turned to look at him. God, he looked so good—dashing, really, she decided, like a knight. The focus of those eyes riveted on her made her shiver a little.
"I've had to work hard at everything I've ever wanted," he said, walking towards her cautiously. She didn't like the way it was moving, as if she were a hare ready to jump and run at any moment.—she didn't like it because it meant that he was the hunter. "Why shouldn't I have to convince the woman I love that my intentions are honorable? The problem is that I don't know how, because I can't stop being myself, worshipping her and wanting to touch her…"
His hand moved. Sango's shoulders didn't relax when he reached out to run a gloved finger down her cheek. His breath came out in little puffs into the chilly air, mingling with her breath stream. Why wouldn't his eyes move from hers? Why couldn't her mouth respond and tell him to shove it? Her lips felt cold in the winter air, and she realized that the shivering in the bottom of her stomach wasn't from winter's touch, but Miroku's. She couldn't tell him to stop because she didn't want him to stop. She had wanted this for so very long, to be treated like this, courted with gentle touches and those dazzling eyes rather than those gropes and smirks she'd been quick to flatten with the palm of her hand.
"I'm tired of chasing you, Sango. This is my last ditch effort. I'm going give you forty seconds to change your mind and tell me that there's a chance—even a slim one—that we could be together, because I'm sick of chasing you and never getting anywhere. I'm sick of the rejection and the heartache, but I just can't get over you. I've wanted you ever since I first met you. I knew that you were out of my league since the first time I groped you and I received that enchanting dare and a slap, but I thought that if I wore you down, maybe, just maybe…"
He stopped suddenly. Sango might have been disgusted with herself for the obvious eagerness on her face had she known it was there. "Maybe what?"
"Maybe I could be the only man who could touch you without getting slapped for it," he supplied, shrugging. Sango wasn't sure if that was really what he had been about to say or not. "Maybe if I wore you down, I could see what lived underneath that mask you wore around me. Maybe if I wore you down, I could hold you and kiss you and call you mine."
Sango was about to retort that she didn't want to be anybody's, that she wanted to be free, but she never get the chance. Miroku's slowly fell from her cheek to take her shoulder, his bags brushing her arms as he pulled her tighter against him, kissing her. His kiss was feather-light and tentative. Sango felt a gasp escape her lips, not expecting this new attack. He took the opportunity to press his mouth tightly against hers when it was open, his lips running over hers. His nose was cold from the snow. Sango thought it was endearing.
She found herself dropping her bags of snack foods, throwing up her arms around his neck and beginning to kiss him back tentatively, feeling awkward. Sango knew how to kiss—it didn't take a genius. But she lacked confidence, wondering if it felt as good for him as it did for her. When the tip of his tongue brushed her bottom lip, Sango pulled herself closer, feeling her knees weak with utter delight at this new sensation, but terrified as well. Miroku pulled away, more than happy to leave that as no more than a promise to simply kiss her until his head began to swim and he had to lift his head for air.
Sango's lips appeared almost crimson in the winter light. His eyes searched her face, looking for something. She just continued to look dazed, and then, much to his surprise, her expression changed to one of respect. "All this time that you were chasing after me, you were always holding back…"
"I'm as good as chasing you as you were avoiding me. I only followed your rules of engagement. I grope—I get slapped. I try to sneak a peek—I get slapped. I touch your hand or your shoulder—no repercussions. I try to kiss you—I get slapped. I bring up dating you—I get rejected. I stare at you too long—I get a nasty comment and you leave the room. You made it perfectly clear what you considered acceptable behavior, and when I overstepped my bounds, I accepted the punishment. Your forty seconds are up, by the way."
Sango wondered how she could possibly think properly after a kiss like that. Maybe that was his plot after all. Sango was only clear on two things: one, her chips were now crushed, and two, she wanted him to do that again.
"You realize that I may be caught, but not tamed, right?"
Delight washed over his face. His bags joined hers on the snowy ground as he pulled her very close. His deep voice was husky. "I don't believe that I ever said I wanted you tame."
And he kissed her again. As he kissed her, she reflected back on her thoughts. Miroku was still her arch-nemesis, wasn't he? She smiled against his mouth as she kissed him back. Yes, he was still her arch-nemesis. Batman and Catwoman were a couple—of sorts—and still enemies. And, Sango reflected as they picked up their crushed bags of groceries, Catwoman wasn't exactly tame either. She glanced at Miroku. So maybe it was possible for this to work out.