Disclaimer: I own none of them.

Author's note: A response to Priestess Skye's weekly challenge at Dokuga, "Blossom", back in 2009. Hopefully, I've met the requirements of this challenge.

A fellow Dokugan, Andi, said in her reviews that she'd love to see 'Keenest Nose' expanded. Her comment stayed with me, but I couldn't really move forward from that one-shot until the challenge came up. I'll try to take this somewhere. I only hope I won't flag, fall and disappoint. And I'll try to make it happy.

Just a little warning again, Sesshoumaru is a little OOC, and I'm not particularly good at writing warm, fuzzy stories.

Summary: (A/U) A haircut and curious fingers make a dangerous combination.


Crowning Glory

Over the months, dinner at Miroku's place became something of a custom for the four friends. While it all began with Kagome making infrequent appointments with Miroku and Sesshoumaru to test out her drafts, with time, the dinners simply gave the friends a reason to spend some hours together at least once a fortnight. Kagome still brought her work to the dinner table for her two favourite critiques to comment on, though not all her assignments had to do with composing fine fragrances; sometimes she brought rough proposals of new scents for detergents or other less glamorous, but rather necessary, household products. Occasionally, not all of them could be present to grace the table, as it was in the case that evening, when personal or professional constraints interfered in their plans.

"Sesshoumaru's late," Miroku commented as he moved about setting plates on the table.

"Yeah," Kagome chimed as she filled the water glasses. "He would usually call you, wouldn't he, if he's held up?"

Just then, they heard Miroku's mobile phone trilling melodiously from the living room.

"That was our friend. He's not able to join us tonight," Miroku announced a while later. "He's quite busy with preparing seminar materials. Or something to that effect."

Though short of one companion, dinner was still a lively affair, and they lingered over dessert at the kitchen table, talking and teasing. Afterwards, Miroku shooed the women out of the kitchen and set about cleaning the dishes. From the living room, he could hear the two women chatting animatedly, intermittent laughter peppering their lively conversation. Undeniably, that is a pleasant sound, Miroku decided somewhat contentedly as he dipped his hands in soapy water. And he was quite certain that he'd like to make the owner of one of those voices a permanent fixture in his life, someday.

Just as he was drying and putting away the last of the dishes, he heard the deep, throbbing rumble of Sesshoumaru's SuperFour in the driveway.

A rather shrill exclamation from one of the women brought Miroku hastily into the living room. There, he found Kagome staring at a bewildered Sesshoumaru, who stood unmoving at the threshold of the door, helmet in hand. Her eyes were impossibly wide and her mouth was a perfect circle.

"What," she asked at last, pointing at the youkai with a shaking finger, "did you do to your hair?"

Sesshoumaru's long, luxuriant mane had been reduced to a trendy crop. Sesshoumaru unfroze himself and rolled his eyes at her. He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, chuckling lightly. Miroku and Sango exchanged a look of amusement across the room. It wasn't the first time their youkai friend had a haircut. By the end of a few weeks, though, his hair would be waist-long again. Sometimes they asked him if there was a point in shearing off his hair only to have it grow back at such a speed.

"Is it a disaster?" he asked lightly.

"No, but that's not the point. Most human women would kill to have hair like yours. How could you blithely cut it off?" Kagome retorted.

"Why didn't you say so? I would have saved my tresses and have it made into a wig for you." He deftly caught the cushion she aimed at his face.

"Hey, take it outside, you two," Miroku quipped. "I inherited this house from my grandfather and I'd prefer not to have it destroyed."

Sesshoumaru tossed the cushion back at Kagome, catching her squarely in the face and sauntered off into the kitchen for a drink.

"Sesshoumaru," Sango called after him. "I saved some dinner for you."

"Thank you, Sango. I will have that later," came the faint reply.

"What a pity," Kagome muttered, hugging the cushion against her chest.

"It'll grow back really soon, Kagome," Sango's voice took on a teasing edge. "Why are you so bothered, anyway?"

Kagome was saved from answering, and potentially embarrassing herself, by Sesshoumaru's reappearance. The youkai sat himself in one of the armchairs, and made desultory small talk with the ladies. He noticed, however, Kagome's eyes straying upwards past his forehead whenever she looked at him. Anytime now...

"Do you mind if I…?" Kagome asked hesitantly, apropos of nothing on the current subject, gesturing in the direction of his head.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said archly.

"If you are going to kill me for such trespass, then I'll die satisfied, at least."

Sesshoumaru sighed and got off his chair. He knelt on one knee before Kagome and bent his head, offering her his crown. Sango pressed a hand against her mouth, not quite stifling a snort of laughter.

"Knock yourself out," he muttered in resignation.

"It's only fair," she replied cheekily. "I let you sniff me periodically."

She swept her fingers gently over his new cut once, then burrowed her digits a little deeper for a second feel.

"Oh, wow. So soft…" she murmured, fluffing the silver strands. "I still think it's a shame, you know."

The fine hairs at the back of his neck and arms were standing, and it was all he could do not to close his eyes at the electric, buzzing pleasure her touch evoked. What is hair but the extension of skin? And what is skin but the point of interface with the world, an encompassing receiver of stimulus? Rin-chan, his half-brother's adorable little girl, often played with his hair when it was long. When he mangled his left arm in a motorcycle accident, Sango – bless her - had helped him wash his hair before he recovered the use of his limb. And he could remember the lazy evenings when he was a little youkai, he would lean on his stepmother's lap, ear pressed against her swollen belly as he listened to his half-brother's rapid heart. Izayoi-san would thread her soft fingers through his hair, humming tunelessly in contentment. But that was different, and brought different kinds of pleasure and comfort. This was certainly something else. He was neither promiscuous nor a celibate, though it has been a few years since he had a steady lover. He was not without admirers; he just hadn't found someone engaging enough to spend his time and affections on. Kagome's touch was chaste and driven by curiosity, but his internal response was not so pure.

Somewhat discomfited, he tried to distract himself, eyes landing on Kagome's other hand draped on the sofa's armrest. She wore a ring with small brilliant semi-precious stones, arranged in a cluster to form a flower. The tiny shards of hard light sparking from the gems failed to divert him. Or the fact that she had painted her nail a delicate pink and decorated them with frivolous floral nail art decals. Deciding that she had indulged herself enough, he slowly ducked out from under her hand and settled back into his seat. Kagome was grinning widely, and he couldn't help but smile lopsidedly in return.

As he laid down to rest that night, Sesshoumaru was not too surprised to find himself imagining the phantom caress of Kagome's inquisitive fingers on his scalp and hair, and how much he'd like to feel that again. Shrugging mentally, he turned on his side and attempted to sleep, trying unsuccessfully not to think too much.

These times were different from the era of his forefathers; after centuries of discord, human and youkai finally discovered that the worth of a peaceful coexistence far outweighed one full of strife. Friendships, alliances and business partnerships were forged easily enough once the two species came to an accord, and while intermarriages and relationships between the two species were not uncommon, they were still few. The emotional cost and physical risk of such unions were high. A youkai's aging generally slowed down after their fortieth or fiftieth year and if they have human or hanyou spouses, they would survive their spouses by a century or more. Some youkai – certain birds especially - marry for life and would live out their days alone after their husbands or wives passed on. Hanyou have it easier if they settled down with humans, but not by much. They would not live as long as a pure youkai, yet still longer than humans. Then there was the medical issue of human mothers carrying and birthing hanyou babies…

I'm getting ahead of myself, he thought resolutely. If this is what I think it is, and… if this is mutual, would I have the courage to see it through?

Something had budded and blossomed on his part, that much was certain. He would not deny she was rather attractive, in a bright, perky way. Superficial appeal aside, he found her likeable at the end of their first encounter, and as their friendship steadily grew, he could not refute that he welcomed and wanted something more.

Lying supine once again, Sesshoumaru sighed softly in the darkness. How does chichi-ue do it, knowing that someday he would have to face years and years alone before he follows Izayoi-san?

Somewhere not too far away, Kagome was thinking of the baby-soft feel of his ivory locks and furtively wondering – half in embarrassment, half in agonized yearning - about the feel of his ivory skin.