Sango LaRoc rushed forwards, the long green skirt she wore slapping around her ankles as she rushed to catch the elevator. She lifted it to her knees, revealing black nylons under black pumps. Her black long sleeve turtleneck was form fitting, and she heard whistles as she ran. An arm moved out to hold the door, and she slowed a bit. Hitching her bag back up to her shoulder, she smiled, replaced the hand with her own, and smiled.
"Arigato," she said, sighing. "I thought I wasn't going to make it."
"Smooth, Sango," a wry female voice said. Sango grinned at Kagome, whose oversized white blouse and long denim skirt belied the petite figure underneath.
"Haha, very funny Higurashi. You suck."
"I should know," a voice said. Sango didn't have to look to know it was Kagome's longtime boyfriend and the adoptive father of her boy, Inuyasha Nogard. She turned to him anyway, slapping the arm that was covered by a red sweatshirt.
"Should you really be making that sort of comments in front of Shippo?" she asked. He stuck out his tongue. A small form rushed out from behind Kagome and hugged her legs.
"Sango!" Shippo cried.
"Hello, Shippo-chan. How are you? Are you taking care of okaa-san?"
"Hai. Just like I'm supposed to!" he said puffing out his chest proudly. Sango laughed and patted him on the head before the child ran back to his mother.
"You just missed Miroku," Kagome said absently.
"Good."
Kagome sighed. Miroku Klim was a mutual 'friend' of theirs. Well, he was a friend of Inuyasha and Kagome's, Sango preferred to avoid him. He was a lecherous player with a smile and a wooing word for every pretty female he saw, the sort that had gotten Kagome with Shippo.
"You really should give him a chance, Sango-chan," she said. Sango shook her head.
"Nope. Once a pervert, always a pervert. I don't need to see him again to know that."
"Klim is a hentai, yes, but a good man," Inuyasha grunted. Sango and Kagome looked at him. It was often like prying teeth to get him to say something good about someone.
"See!" Kagome cried triumphantly. "Even Inuyasha thinks he's nice."
"He said he was a good man, not that he was nice. And I'm not Inuyasha," Sango said firmly. Kagome shook her head, and handed Sango a black fold of fabric.
"Miroku left his coat here," she explained. "I have a feeling he'll be back for it. You're going up, right?"
Sango nodded, and Kagome grinned.
"Great! You can give this to him, then."
"I'm not talking to him," the older girl replied shortly as she took the coat. Kagome met her eyes seriously.
"He's not all sunshine and hentai all the time, Sango. He's got his demons, we all do."
"You're just dating yours, is all," Inuyasha muttered, and Kagome slapped his arm.
"Not a full demon, Koi," she reminded. The elevator opened, and Kagome looked at Sango.
"Give him a chance, Sango-chan. You'll be fine."
Sango sighed and pressed the button to go back up to the top. A floor or two up, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Miroku walked in.
"Evil Kagome, evil Shippo, evil, evil Inuyasha," he muttered, looking around the small space. "Didn't tell me I left my coat here."
He was looking around on the floor for the black form. A cough alerted him to another presence.
"This?" Sango replied wryly, and Miroku gave a cry of triumph.
"Thank you, my beautiful hime!"
Sango rolled her eyes. "I'm not a hime," she said dryly.
"You look like one," he responded. "It's been awhile, LaRoc."
"For a reason," she said dryly. Neither of them noticed the doors had closed, or that they were moving downwards. Miroku clutched at his heart.
"You pain me so, my dear Sango."
"Yea, yea, next you'll want a kiss to heal the wound," she said sarcastically. He winked at her.
"How did you know?" he asked, straightening. He fell over, though, when Sango fell into him as the elevator made hissing screeching noises and fell at a stomach-churning pace. She gasped as they fell into forever.
When they slowed, she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. And unknown sensation reached her butt. She recognized it as touch, and slapped Miroku.
"Hentai!" she growled, and stood up. "What happened?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. "We seem to have, uh, fallen?"
Sango gave him a withering glance and looked at the panel in front of her. She found the button with a phone on it and pushed.
"Hello?" a voice crackled.
"Uh, hi. I don't know what's going on, but we fell, and then we stopped, and I really don't like this."
"Please stay calm, Ma'am. What number is the elevator?"
"How should I know?"
"Above the button panel, Ma'am," the woman said patiently. Sango looked.
"Two," she sighed. The female voice crackled for a moment.
"You seem to be stuck between the main floor and the basement. I'll send a team over as soon as possible. You won't run out of air, but I advise against any large movements."
"Thank you," Sango said, and sat back to wait.
"So?" Miroku asked. She looked up at him, annoyed.
"Why should I tell you, pervert?"
Miroku knelt down until they were at eye level. Sango swallowed. What was he playing at? He reached forward and grasped her sides gently. Before she could tell him to remove the offending appendages, he began to tickle her.
She screeched, and tried to move away. Miroku held her with one hand at her waits, though, and continued the assault.
"Now, hime, tell me."
Sango shook her head, and he continued to please himself with her giggles and squeals. After a few moments, she gasped, and gave in.
"Fine, I'll tell you!" she cried. Miroku laughed.
"Thank you," he said. She explained to him what the woman over the microphone had told her. He nodded absently, not really paying attention.
"So . . . how long are we stuck here?" he asked.
"How should I know?" she snapped. He glanced down at her, and shook his head. What a cruel card Kami had dealt him. Stuck alone in an enclosed space for an unknown amount of time with a woman who couldn't stand him. Well, he could try to fix the hating-of-guts bit, but he was having a shitty day. His mentor, Mushin, had died last night of alcohol poisoning. It was sad, really. Miroku had always suspected the old drunkard would go down that way. His heart was torn in another place, as well. His friend and colleague, Hachi, was away visiting relatives on another island, and he was sorely missing the plump man's presence now.
Keeping his mind light when his heart was so heavy was difficult, but he did it for the sake of the rest of the world, who didn't need to see his problems. For fun, he plucked the black purse/bag/carrying case thingamajig off of Sango's shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her.
"Hey!" she cried, grabbing at the bag. "Give that back!"
Miroku laughed, and held the bag above his head. How he loved short women. Well, not really, just his woman in particular. Wait -- not technically his, either. She wasn't actually short either, just shorter than him. And whether it was love or lust had yet to be seen. Except it was really more leaning to love, and not to lust, he could live without having her in his bed; just being with her was, well, nice.
'Shut up,' Miroku growled to the voice in his head. Sango was currently glaring at him, she was quite pretty when she was mad . . . or happy . . . or depressed . . . or worried . . . or --
'I get the point dammit!' he shouted mentally to the voice in his head.
'I don't think you do,' the voice jeered. 'You still won't say it. Or even think it. Or dream it.'
'Dream what?' he asked. 'About Sango? We do that a lot, and you know it.'
'Not about her,' the voice scolded. 'About saying "aishiteru" to her. We never dream it; we never think it. And you know we do!'
'It's not love. Perverts like us don't fall in "love". We maybe sort of kind of a little or maybe a lot lust for her, but no, never love. We can't.'
'And why not?' the voice taunted. 'We have a heart, as you know. Otherwise why would we hurt so much?'
'That's why,' Miroku snapped to the voice. 'Love hurts, remember? We don't feel it any more because all it does it bite us!'
'She understands that, too. Remember? Her brother died a few years ago in that fire.'
Miroku remembered now. A few years ago, there had been a huge fire down on 81st street, where her brother took fencing. He had been at a course that day, and the unthinkable had happened. Now, she was an only child, living on her own in a big house that needed filling, but wouldn't be filled for a long time. The tiny piece of amber she wore around her neck at all times was a little testament to Kohaku's memory.
Sango made another jump at the bag while Miroku was 'enjoying' his mental debate. She gave a shout of triumph as she grabbed it, shooting him another venomous look as she slipped the bag over her head so the strap rested on her left shoulder, while the bag sat on her right hip.
"You have a weird sense of priorities, pervert," she sighed. He blinked at her.
"Huh?"
She shook her head. "You know, most people who get themselves trapped in elevators don't play little jokes on each other, or snatch bags. They try to think of happy things, to keep themselves bust until help arrives."
"Happiness? There's no such thing," he muttered under his breath. He hadn't meant for her to hear that, but by the look of shock dawning on her face, she had.
"Klim . . ." she whispered. He shot her a bitter look.
"What? Ah, yes, you probably want to know why I made such a charming comment. Well, Sango my dear, let me see. When I was five, my mother died of smoke inhalation. It happens when you're a firefighter with poor equipment. I still remember her. My father passed away a few years later. He was a tornado chaser, and he caught a big one. Oh yes, it was a big one, wasn't it Dad," he whispered, almost to himself. Sango's eyes were closed, and she felt an intense pain squeezing at her. This was a new side of the pervert, one she hadn't ever seen. Is this what Kagome had meant by 'he's not all sunshine and hentai all the time'?
"None of that matters, though," Miroku sighed. His companion's eyes snapped open.
"Nani? Klim, what are you --" she gasped, but he put a finger to her lips, drawing it back moments later.
"They would have died anyway. Know why?"
He tore his right sleeve off, revealing a long, lean forearm. Up to his elbow and seeming to run beyond it were deep purplish bruises running along all the veins. Sango's eyes widened, and she reached out her forefinger gently to trace the marks up his arm until his sleeve stopped her.
He chuckled. "Ah, yes, the double-edged sword of genetics. It can create life, or stop it. It's a warped form of hemophilia, you could say. The walls of my veins aren't fully developed, they could burst at any time. I'm lucky to survive this long."
Sango snapped her hand back, worried she had hurt him. He shook his head.
"No, touch can't hurt them. Can't track it, it doesn't develop past this. I could be dead tomorrow for all I know. But don't you dare pity me, death is better than the life I'm living right now. There's nothing here for me."
He was so blunt about it, there was no trace of sorrow in his voice, only a deep, resounding note of resignation. Sango grabbed his shoulders and looked up into his eyes. "Promise me something," she whispered. Miroku looked at her, bemused.
"I've promised that a thousand times, Sango. Why kill myself when my body's going to do it without my consent whenever it decides to?"
She sighed, and nodded. For some reason, she felt drawn to his warmth. She leaned against him resting her head on his chest. She heard his heartbeat, and sighed. What a terrible way to live, not knowing if you would wake up the next day, how did he do it? She felt his arms wrap around her waist, and she stiffened for a moment.
"Why would you think like that?" she asked. He looked down at her, and she met his eyes.
"Why would you continue to live such a half-life? If you could be dead tomorrow, you should be living while you can. Everyone says it, and no-one listens to it, but you have a reason to."
She felt a chuckle rumble through his chest.
"You make a good, argument, Koi," he whispered. She was rendered incapable of saying anything, both mentally and physically. For not only had Miroku called her Koi, he had kissed her. She had often thought about what it would be like, but dream had nothing on reality. His lips were thrillingly warm, and the chapped skin was beautifully rough against her soft mouth. She kissed him back hesitantly for a moment, before he pulled away. She regained her voice a moment or so later, and he seemed to be waiting for her.
"Miroku . . . That was . . ."
"Unbearably cheesy, I know. But hey, as you said, carpe dium. And I've wanted to do that for awhile." Almost as an afterthought, he added:
"I've wanted to hear you call me by my name for awhile now as well. Thank you, Koi."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
'Please, PLEASE, you useless pervert of an alter ego, I know I'm going against everything I argued earlier, but don't tell her you love her.' the voice in his head begged. He scoffed back.
'What? And make her think I'm saying it for the hell of it? Or even worse, sound like someone out of a bad movie that's had an epiphany? Are you nuts?! Wait, sorry, I forgot. You're my annoying inner voice.'
'I should take offence to that, but I'm just going to tell you to shut up and kiss the damn girl.'
Miroku looked at her. She had raised a hand to her mouth, and was touching her lips gently. The player in him told him to feed her a line -- 'let me do that for you' seemed to be the favorite, going hard up against 'Aishiteru, Koi. Is that a good answer?'. But he didn't.
"It fits," he whispered simply, and, moving her hand gently, pressed his lips to hers again. She seemed to enjoy it, leaning into the touch happily, and opening her mouth when his tongue requested entrance. She allowed him to plunder her mouth, and was slow to respond. She was unsure of what to do, and mimicked his movements cautiously. He made a low noise of pleasure when she pressed her tongue against his, and they quickly battled for dominance of the moist cavern.
Her hands moved up to play with his hair, and she removed the tie that held his hair back. The dark mass swung around his face, and he opened his eyes when he felt it brush his cheek. She pulled back, and giggled. He looked rugged with his half-missing sleeve and dark hair tumbling around his face. He smiled back at her, and reached up to release her locks.
"One for one, my dear," he said. She buried her fingers in his hair.
"No more talking," she said, and pulled his face back down to hers. He responded happily, tightening his grip on her waist and pulling her closer. When they felt their world shift, they pulled their faces away, but Miroku kept his grip on her waist, but it was almost protective now.
"What's going on?" she asked, not a hint of fear in her voice, only confusion.
"I don't know," he replied honestly. They held each other tightly as their world continued to redefine itself. An age later, the doors slid open. Sango blinked as flashlights shone in her eyes. Shielding her face, she looked out. Two rescue officers, three police officers, and two firemen stood by. As well, Inuyasha and Kagome hovered at the side, Shippo clinging to his mother's skirt. Inuyasha shoved his way through.
"So Klim, you finally made your move? What gorgeous timing," he said sarcastically. Kagome picked Shippo up and moved to his side.
"Miroku? Sango? Are you all right?"
Sango smiled as Miroku helped her out the door. His eyes met hers, and she saw the promise of many more beautiful interludes. She gave him a look that told him they would be soon, and when Kagome coughed, she laughed.
"Yea, Kagome, We're just fine."