Before I say anything, go read everything by Starzki.
Thanks to le betas Kat and Wendy.
I don't own anything.
A/N: Well, I originally wrote up a decent little author's note to attempt and explain why I wrote this. But it was so much simpler to write this:
Kat: Me n May
Kat: the unstoppable duo ;-)
May: on crack!
Happenstance
1: Action Jackson
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A missed chance, a waste of time, driving across the country without a map -- that's what life is right now, a sullen young woman thought with a sigh. Watching the large chunks of ice slosh around her cup hypnotically, she drew in another deep breath.
"Miss Sango, I must say you look absolutely mouth-watering this evening," a familiar deep voice interrupted her retrospection.
She looked down at her modest black dress and back up at him. "I wouldn't really use the word 'mouth-watering,'" she replied flatly, taking another sip of her drink. "For someone so articulate, that's the best you could come up with? I'm flattered."
"Punch?" he said casually, eyeing the transparent cup. "Why so unadventurous, Sango? It's the new year, at least have a glass of champagne."
"It's this tangy sort of punch," she observed, holding the cup eye level.
"I'm sure it is," the male said in amusement.
She ignored him. "It's not time to toast yet," she retorted grudgingly. "And this party sucks."
"Because it's a company party?" he suggested. "I never knew this many attractive women worked with us."
Sango shook her head. "The pretty ones are the private secretaries," she said very slowly.
"I need to get me one of those," Miroku thought aloud. He set his gaze on her.
"No."
"I didn't even ask yet!"
"You were going to." She paused. "Miroku," Sango began to almost whine. "Why don't you get back to the party instead of hanging around out here? It's cold out."
"I wanted to bring you a glass to toast," he told her, shrugging. "It's a quarter to midnight, anyhow."
"You actually noticed I wasn't enjoying the festivities?"
"Of course I did. The last thing I want to have on my mind is that instead of enjoying the crappy company party only the employees with absolutely nothing to do tonight attended, my favourite fellow employee is outside feeling sorry for herself." He waved the glass under her nose. "It's a new year. It's an open bar."
She narrowed her eyes at the frothy liquid. "I'll have to refuse the offer," she said curtly, sipping her punch.
"You are in need of some action."
She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of action might that be?"
"Let me rephrase that. You need to do something different. I see you go through the same routine every day. Walk in, sit down, type, lunch, break, type, leave. And now, you've spent the entire evening nursing your cup of punch. Try something new!" he pitched, still offering the glass. "Ten to midnight."
"And what if I do? So I took a little bit of champagne on New Year's, so did a few billion other people," she scoffed. "It won't make any difference tomorrow, because everyone will have been drunk and merrily singing and puking and being generally raucous the previous night! They won't even remember. Now, why start a new year off not knowing that you made a complete ass of yourself in public?" she concluded her verbiage with a flourish, flushing.
"Seriously now," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "That was unnecessarily long-winded. Come inside, have one completely innocuous glass, and do the countdown with me." He attempted a persuasive smile. Then will you grant me the first dance of the new year?"
"Dance?" she echoed, staring at him in skepticism. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced a shooting star sailing across the sky. Turning back to him, she narrowed her eyes. "And the kissing part?"
"Who said anything about a kissing part?" he asked, looking away and whistling, as if it the question was such a juvenile thing to ask. "But if you are so inclined . . . "
Sango shook her head again as she headed up the concrete steps towards the large doors marking the entrance of the banquet hall. He kept one step below her, letting his hand trail down her shoulder, her spine, to rest at the base of her back. Shivering, she whipped her head around to stare at him.
"What are you doing?"
He feigned winsome innocence again. "Making sure you don't fall."
She turned back forward, huffing and stiff. "I don't fall easily," she assured him in a testy voice, taking another gulp of punch.
"I never said you were a pushover, or easily attained." She could almost feel him smirking. "To ascribe such an attribute to you would be a misnomer, a mistake." He ran his fingers up her arm to her elbow. "For you, I exercise providence."
In other words, he has a complicated, top-secret master plan to kidnap me.Flinching, she ran up a few steps away from him. "Looks like you've had some to drink as well," she snapped, attempting to whirl around. "No more for --"
Apparently, the powers that be decided that today was Embarass-Sango-Day, and she lost her footing in the heels she was ever so unaccustomed to.
She barrelled down a few steps and inevitably bowled over Miroku, and they ended up crumpled on the concrete below, Sango's cup of punch tossed about and rolling into some decorative shrubbery.
And when she looked up, he was observing her with a knowing grin. "Instability and weakened motor skills; one of the first noticeable effects of alcohol."
She silenced him with a glare, standing up and holding onto the stair railing. "I'm not drunk!"
--
As they entered the assigned hall (aptly named "Optimism") the moving lights and ambience assaulted their eyes and ears. In Sango's opinion, some laughter and a few moving bodies on the dance floor wasn't a sign of a successful party to her, but to everyone else, the soiree was in full swing.
"Must've picked up when I left," she murmured, tapping the rim of the cup against her lower lip. "Figures."
Miroku shifted beside her as he looked at his watch. "Almost time," he mouthed.
Sango nodded indifferently. She wondered vaguely about leaving soon. She wanted to get up early to visit the family graves . . . but the party really needed some life. Her? The life of the party?
The hall seemed to get brighter and she felt herself gradually becoming less wound and uptight. The music was pounding, people were everywhere and as the end to the year came, she just wanted to dance.
Until, the time came.
"Five!" the crowd chorused.
The cup of punch was removed from her hand and replaced with a glass of sparkling champagne. Glancing at it, she looked back towards the large time display on a projection screen. Well, a good mood is kind of contagious.
"Four!" she started shouting along with them.
Earlier everyone around her had really been yelling too loudly -- she couldn't hear herself think. But now it was sort of muffled in her ears. What the hell, she ought to know better than to listen to Miroku of all people, but she just felt really airy and light.
"Three!" she screamed.
Stupid Miroku. Look at those private secretaries all coddling him. I bet none of them are still paying off their student loans, she glowered, distracted.
"Two!"
This party was really sucking earlier.
"One!"
Confetti and ribbons exploded around the mass of people crammed into the hall. People shouted and screamed, momentarily forgetting they were just normal, average people and that this was any other day. At least, it felt like a normal day to Sango.
She raised the glass to her lips and sipped the alcohol slowly. It felt really warm going down her throat -- similar to that tangy punch from earlier. Come to think of it, the punch had been considerably hotter in her mouth.
Taking another sip, she realized that the noise and tumult must be too much for her. She was beginning to sway on the spot. Downing the rest of the glass, she turned around, hearing Miroku trying to get to her through the crowd.
She waved, and hiccuped. Holding a hand to her mouth in surprise, she began to giggle.
"Oh guess what Miroku!" she laughed as he finally broke through the crowd. He barely caught the glass as it dropped from her hands.
"Give that back!" she demanded, reaching for it. "It's real crystal! Give me yours too, so I can have a complete set."
"You shouldn't steal from the company, Sango," he chided, laughing a bit. "Comes out of our payrolls."
She let out a moderately loud chortle. "Like you don't steal from work all the time! Hello, Mr. "I-seem-to-have misplaced-my-laptop!" Well, if you need another one, just pick one out from your collection at home!"
He waved a hand around, shushing her. "Let's not get carried away here," he said loudly, over the excitement of the party. "New year means forget the past!"
"Hey!" Sango poked him on the chest. "The punch was pretty good! Get me more of that please. The champagne was kind of overly tingly."
"I think it was a little too good," he said in mild suspicion. "Anyway, happy new year, Sango," he greeted, grinning in amusement. "Have a great one."
"It's the new year?" she said. "Oh right!" she clapped her hands. "Thank you Miroku! You've always been there for me -- every day of my dead end job!"
"You're welcome," he smiled.
"And that time I taped your arms to your sides on your birthday!"
"You forget the taping of my hands to my ass," he reminded sulkily.
"That too!" she sang, hitting him on the arm. Then her happy smile flickered. "And when everyone died."
"You're welcome." This was a tad uncomfortable for him.
"Yup! You went with me every year!" she smiled widely and hugged him around the middle, before drawing away and putting her hands on her hips. Her mood changed again. "But you're always so mean to me!" she burst, grabbing the front of his shirt.
"I'm so mean . . . to you?" he repeated, confused. "All right, who spiked the punch?" he yelled loudly into the crowd. Unfortunately, they all ignored him. Looks like they all had the punch.
"I'm not mean," he said, turning his attention to the flushed young woman.
"You are!" she jostled him a little. "'Private secretary'? 'Mouth-watering'? I have no idea what you're thinking sometimes!"
"Sango, that's not really being --"
"Silence!" she boomed, laughing a little at his reaction. "Now you'll see what you missed out on!"
Pulling him down sharply she pushed her mouth against his awkwardly. He was a bit wary of enjoying the moment due to the fear she might bite his mouth off.
"Come, come, New Year's Day!" she giggled against his mouth, before pushing him away and holding up her glass, which she had snatched back from him. "I foresee much action for Sango!"
"A toast!" she shouted to the occupants, sprinkling them with some of the champagne. "To action!"
There was a tinkling of glasses colliding. Holding onto Miroku's arm, she turned to him and winked.
--
"Shit."
Her head was really pounding. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she covered her ears with both hands and rolled over face first into her pillows.
She rubbed her eyes, groaning as she noticed the makeup marks on her hands. Then she looked at the rest of her body.
So that's why it was a bit cold.
She sighed loudly, and then immediately became quiet. Rolling over to her other side quietly, she fought the urge to throw up at the lump next to her, sharing her blanket. The stocky, dirty-blond, contentedly smiling lump.
Whipping the covers away from the figure's face, she gave him a two second glance before screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Who the fuck are you?!"
The male next to her twitched and sat up, and she immediately kicked him in the gut until he fell off the edge of the mattress.
"Wait -- " he sputtered, trying to collect himself. "Don't you remember me?"
"Obviously not!" she roared, tugging the sheets completely off the bed and wrapping them around her thrice. It hurt her eyes to look at the stranger, now covering himself with a hastily grabbed (and strategically placed) pillow.
"But, you asked me to come home with you," the man explained meekly. "Don't you know me?"
Sango only brandished her fists. "Who are you?"
"Remember? From the mailroom?" he squeaked, holding his stomach with one hand. "I brought you the mail a few times?"
"The mailroom?" Sango said in awe. "But the party -- don't tell me . . . "
His face melted into a similar expression. "Oh yes."
She slapped her hands to her face and groaned. "You were there?"
He looked a little affronted. "Hey, mailroom boys are employees too." Then his visage become dreamy. "I did an office babe -- wow. The guys will never believe this!"
"I still don't," she moaned.
"Hey," he said excitedly. "Are you older?"
Sango suddenly felt very dirty indeed. She also suddenly realized in horror that yes, there were men more perverted than Miroku out there.
Oh, the horror.
Miroku! He didn't watch out for her! He let the mail clerk take her home!
But it was because she was being sulky. Right? Sulky, like complaining, whining, refusing to have fun -- and then there was the punch.
Then she became very, very upset.
"Damn it!" she swore, throwing her hands up in the air and stomping her foot. "This will ruin my life! It's over! It's official! This year sucks!"
"Was it really that bad?" the young man asked tentatively.
"You're the freaking mail clerk!" she rounded on him, fisting her hands. She paced around the side of the room she was on while her one night acquisition stood opposite her, awkwardly holding the pillow to hide a number of more intriguing destinations, best left to Sango's imagination. Or maybe not.
She shivered again.
"Is that a bad thing?" he questioned again.
"Let me think. Yes?" she sounded off sarcastically. "Handing me a few envelopes every few days isn't an invitation for a hook up! If you hadn't told me you did hand me said envelopes, I wouldn't remember ever seeing you at all!"
"Miss -- "
"What?" she demanded in annoyance.
"I'm sorry about the whole spending the night and -- defiling you thing, but you wouldn't mind putting in a good word for me with the executives, would you? I want to -- you know -- climb up the corporate ladder."
Sango tutted in irritance, throwing on a button-up sweater to grasp the little fragment of modesty and dignity she had left.
Gosh -- the mail clerk! she thought angrily, crossing her arms whilst frantically pacing. What will I do? What will everyone think? Oh no," she remembered in dismay. "The office gossip!"
Now she knew what water cooler conversation would be about today.
As a release, she kicked the wall.
I wish -- damn it -- this is my fault, but Miroku had to go and offer me his stupid drink. "You are in need of action, Sango." Asshole. I bet he set this whole thing up. The day won't end until I figure him out. Or people in general. I bet he'll be waiting there with a stupid smirk on his face. I wish I could just change what happened! Please, please, please, let me change what happened.
Deciding on kicking the overnight guest unceremoniously onto the lawn (or maybe out of the window) she turned around to talk to him when she heard a distinct thumping outside her door -- followed by muffled shouting.
It came closer. Both occupants of her room looked towards the closed door.
"I'm coming! I'll save you!"
Curious, she put her hand to the doorknob. However, the person on the other side seemed overly excited to get in. She barely got out of the way of the swinging door and recognized the panicked face of her sibling before he swung a large frying pan at her head.
"Oh, shoot," her brother said sheepishly, standing above her. He was kind of blurred around the edges.
"Kohaku -- you . . . idiot," she said, slurring the words together.
"I'm sorry! I thought someone was attacking you!" he tried to explain. "The screams, the thumping -- and who's this guy in your room?"
She heard none of it, because she was already down for the count.
"Now I've done it," Kohaku groaned, bending beside her and patting her head. The stranger cleared his throat.
"Hello."
"Hi, I'm Kohaku?" he said awkwardly, extending his hand. "You must be the random one night stand."