Okay, so I saw the Oscar nominations, and while Lord of the Rings did get a whopping eleven nominations, none of the actors got anything. Which means that, once again, the Academy is ignoring my need to have a "Most Glompable Hobbit" category. And okay, I would even find it alright if they just had "Most Glompable," and left the hobbit bit out altogether, because we know that Billy Boyd would still win. I mean, come on. Pippin. He rules. And even though it's just a fictional character, when he's sitting there singing and missing his Merry, it hits your heartstrings, and you just know that…
*****
Something Is Real
Part 20
*****
"There you are." Miroku's smooth voice roused Sango gently from her task, sharpening Hiraikotsu and buffing out the nicks and scratches along the youkai-bone surface. She looked up at him, her eyes catching the light from the moon and gleaming a deep maroon that was almost black in the darkness. "I was worried."
"I can take care of myself." Sango spoke, a slow smile finding it's way to her lips as she turned back to her task. "As you well know, Houshi-sama."
"Sango," the tone pleaded, and she flushed as she realized her error.
"Oops, sorry." She gave him an apologetic grin. "I guess it's just force of habit, you know?"
"I suppose I can let it slip past this once." Miroku sighed as though the concession weighed down on him heavily. "But I must ask for reparation."
"If you think I'm going to do some…hentai favor for you just because I forgot to say your name one time, you're completely out of bounds, Housh…er, Miroku." Sango coughed and abandoned her righteous fury for the boomerang once more.
"That was close, Sango." Miroku's voice was solemn as though he were giving religious advice, not coming onto her. "But I must say that your assertion seems completely unfair to me. If I should give up on other women, I expect to see some sort of reciprocated attention on your part."
"Miroku," she spoke his name sharply, not at all the way he liked it, but it was still nice just to hear her say it. "I'm trying to get ready for tomorrow. You remember, we'll be battling our sworn enemy to the death? We might not live, and all you can do is hit on me and try to get in a cheap feel."
"Well, could you really blame a man in his last hours for wanting to spend that time with the only woman he has ever truly loved." Miroku shrugged, but his words froze Sango in the midst of her task. "Sango?" he prompted her response after the silence had gone on for much longer than he deemed normal to bantering conversation.
"Miroku, just…don't." her voice was pained, and he was shocked to realize that she was crying. Sango, actually crying for no apparent reason. "Go away."
"I…Sango, what…" Miroku, who prided himself on his golden tongue, his words that never failed to feel the silence poetically, if not entirely appropriately, was completely lost. Sango was crying. "What did I do?"
"You just…can't come here and say whatever you want, like it just doesn't matter as long as it gets you laid. You can't toy with people like that!" she burst out, tears splashing down her face reddened by anger. "Don't say things you don't mean!"
"What did I say?" Miroku was trying to remain calm, but it was very hard to stay stoic when Sango was so obviously upset.
"That you…and…about me…" she sniffled and wiped at her eyes, frustrated at behavior that she deemed ridiculous and utterly weak. That was definitely not the way to impress him and to be taken seriously, that much she was sure of. "Miroku, I mean it."
"I mean it, too." He insisted. "I want to be with you now, Sango. I'm sorry that I spoke so crassly, but the fact of the matter is that if I could only be near you for these last hours, I would die a happy man, thinking myself cared for even if it was untrue."
"It's not untrue." She told him sharply. "You know that, don't you? That I…I keep falling for everything you say. But it doesn't mean anything to you, does it? Just words, like flower petals floating away on the wind…pointless. You forget them as soon as they're out there, making everything…different. But not for you. You don't care about anything."
"Sango…" Miroku looked so hurt that she took pause. "I know…the way I speak is sometimes…flowery. But I would hate for you to think that I don't remember every word exchanged between the two of us and treasure it as something precious to me. I care for you a great deal, Sango. You may not believe that, but the fact of the matter is that nothing could make me leave you now, knowing that this might be the last evening we have together…nothing. Nothing is more important to me than you, and anything I have said or done to hurt your feelings was purely unintentional. I am sorry if you find me unworthy, as I have placed all my efforts into the sole purpose of capturing your affections. And if I could have them, I would never let them go."
"Miroku, that's what I mean." She sighed, trying to resist the pull of his eyes, the closeness of his position, the way his hand reached to cover hers. "You say things…things that are beautiful, but then the next minute, I see you groping a random girl, and it hurts."
"I promised I would stop that." Miroku reminded her. "Have I not been as good as my word?"
"Well…I guess, now…" Sango felt so ridiculous. He was tricking her, he must be. He was always tricking her. "Miroku…"
"Sango, dear." How had he gotten so close? She was still on her knees, knelt over her weapon, and he was kneeling as well, just in front of her, his face still up higher, his eyes drawing her inexplicably nearer, his breath so close she could just taste it on the air, like tea leaves and spicy sweet cakes. Was he actually going to kiss her? But no, he stopped, his mouth barely an inch from hers, his eyes so close they were all she could see, one hand going to her hair, and the other grasping the hand he was holding. Her hand, she realized dazedly. He was holding her hand. He was touching her hair. She wanted to kiss him.
So she did.
It was like jumping into a hot spring head first without even taking a breath before hand. Her insides were warm, but her face, her hand, where he was holding her, it felt positively on fire. She couldn't breathe, her eyes fell shut as her senses seemed to overload with the sensations she was receiving from his lips, soft as they looked and just as skilled at kissing as they were at speaking, moved slowly over hers. He had been frozen at first, seemingly shocked that she took the initiative, but then the tiniest curve of his lips had been replaced by a soft, rhythmic massage of his mouth moving over hers. It was wonderful. She started to try and do what he was doing, it felt so lovely she thought that it would be unfair of her to have all the fun, and the soft sound he made told her that she was getting it right, at least. He tasted like tea and sugar and cinnamon sticks and the smell of incense on his robes was intoxicating as his flavor. And she couldn't breathe, but it just didn't seem to matter, and he was so much gentler than she would have expected. He frightened her, with his groping and his talk of women and sex and all his comments that went just a little too far, but this…this was better than she could have hoped for. She had worried that if he ever did kiss her, it would be rough and so expert that she wouldn't have any idea what to do, but he was taking his time, and he was not forcing her, and it was the best thing she had ever felt.
And then she just had to breathe. She fell forward, totally overbalanced from her lunge to close the distance between them in the first place, and completely disoriented by the kiss and the current lack of oxygen getting to her brain. But she didn't fall far, not with Miroku right there, breathing just as heavily as her, his hands catching her around the waist and holding her against him, his chin on her head as they both caught their breath. His left hand was still entangled in her own fingers, and she drew it up to his chest, burying her face in those wonderfully scented robes and hiding her blush in their layers and folds and darkness.
"You kissed me." He was the first to speak, and he sounded surprisingly dazed. She had thought he would expect it, and that it wouldn't faze him for one moment. Not Miroku, who could have countless women, and who knew more about sex than he knew about his own religious teachings. Or at least, it seemed that way a good deal of the time. She had to wonder, though. Was that all talk? He was so much gentler than she would have imagined…
"I did." She answered, her face still buried in his robes, her fingers shaking in his grip. She could feel both of their hearts, with their hands pressed between them like that. At some point, they had started to beat in time. That was strange.
"I never thought you would." He went on, a bit more fluent, but still not up to his standard level of speech. "I thought that it would be up to me."
"I told you before." She smiled into the dark cloth. "I can take care of myself."
"I have never enjoyed that independence more than I do right now, Sango, I must admit." He chuckled slightly, his hand tightening on hers. "I was wondering…"
"Yes." She burst out suddenly, pulling her face away from his chest. "Whatever it is, yes. I just…don't leave me tonight. I couldn't bear it if one of us died without…and I just want to be with you as long as I can."
"Sango," he felt himself get several ideas, all of which were utterly inappropriate for the gravity of the situation. "We might well survive tomorrow, and I would not want you to regret a decision rashly made. I only ask that you—" he was cut off by her lips on his again, insistent, urgent, the kiss was as strong as the woman behind it. When she broke away, she only took the time to breathe before attacking his jaw, his neck, his ears. "Sa…Sango…"
"Miroku…" her voice was soft, breathy, nothing like the mouth ravaging his earlobe. "Just shut up, for once."
"Yes." He had to admit, she presented a very convincing argument.
Who was he to argue?
----------
He had kissed her. They had been staring at the stars, sitting so close she felt her face heat almost unbearably at the situation, and he had turned and kissed her, softly, on the corner of her mouth. Of course, she had been shocked. Ayame had never expected such a move from Ginta, but she had to admit after he apologized and ran off, his face almost as red as hers, that it had been sweet. And it had been something good in her whole life full of bad. And it made her think…
She needed to talk to Kouga. To honestly sit down with the older man and talk about things that had been bothering her for a long time, things that couldn't be left alone for much longer. She didn't want him to misunderstand her feelings, not when tomorrow was so certain to end so horribly, no matter what sweet stories Ginta told of stars and protection and all the wolves who had ever lived. His voice was nice, when he was calm. Lulling her, making her feel soft and sleepy and comfortable and happy.
There he was. Kouga, that was. He was alone now, which would make everything much easier for her. Ginta was still off in the woods somewhere, feeling extremely embarrassed about that kiss of his.
Not that she'd disliked it. He hadn't even given her a chance to speak before he ran off like that.
Oh well, boys would be boys. Kagome and Sango were constantly saying things like that. Things about how ridiculous men acted and how foolish they could be and how they never noticed the most obvious things and couldn't really see much of anything if it didn't have to do with sex or fighting. Ayame had laughed with them, but only now was she beginning to truly understand some of it. It was strange, knowing that she was finally giving up on him…
"Kouga?" she spoke up. He wasn't paying attention to anything, just staring at the fire like it held the answers to all of life's problems in it if he could only look at it for long enough. "Can…I talk to you?" she sat next to him, patting her skirt smooth even though it was still sort of haphazard, as she had long since learned was almost always the case when you wore furs everywhere.
"Um…huh?" he looked up, blinking at her before he seemed to finally see her, and then it took another few minutes before he processed this and nodded. "Sure."
"It's about…um…us." She began, feeling a bit scared. What if he didn't want to let her go? What if all this time, he really had loved her, but he was just playing some strange game with her? Could she really turn her back on him after she had waited for so long? "I was wondering…"
"What?" he seemed slightly annoyed. It hurt to hear him talk in that tone, even though she was sure he didn't mean to be rude. He just didn't have any interest in her. His thoughts were occupied with Kagura, no doubt.
"I think that we shouldn't get mated." She blurted out the words, and it hurt less that way. Quick and sharp, it stung, but it didn't ache like it had before. Kouga was blinking at her in confusion. She wondered if she'd spoken too fast again, and she'd have to say it again. She hoped not.
"You…don't?" he quirked his head to one side. "But I thought that was all you wanted."
"I know." She sighed, picking at a dirty spot of fur on her skirt. "And I know it would have made grandfather happy. He wanted me taken care of, he wanted to be sure I'd stay in the tribe. I think he worried I'd find an outsider and leave the wolves to live with them instead."
"Well…you can't just…who will you mate now?" Kouga was still too confused to say anything intelligent.
"I'll find someone." She blushed as she remembered Ginta's soft, inexperienced, terrified kiss. "It's not that important. I might even die tomorrow, and then it wouldn't be something to worry about. I just…want you to know. I know that you love her, and that's okay. I'm not angry about it anymore. I'm happy for you, really." She smiled, and watched as his face furrowed in further confusion.
"I…who?" he asked, and she blushed, not able to go on. Kagome and Sango were right. Men were idiots.
But sometimes…
Sometimes, she didn't really mind.
She wondered where Ginta had run off to, after all.
*****
The End (Of Part 20, That Is)