"Because it was nothing like we'd ever dreamt

Our lust for life had gone away with the rent we hated

And because it made no money nobody saved no one's life."

– "So Says I," The Shins

If You Want to Live Here

Miroku was fucked. And the worst part was that he knew he was fucked, even though he was still refusing to admit it to himself.

Standing outside the door to his apartment, Miroku inhaled deeply, shook out his limbs, and told himself to just be smooth. As always.

He brought the key up to the lock, and slowly, ever so slowly, inched it forward into the crevice on the handle. The hope was that the TV would be going, and thus, drown out the sounds of the door, which would be as small as he could make them.

The key was now entirely in. Wincing all the way, Miroku began to turn it. Each minute click of the moving lock felt like a cardiac arrest. Finally the door was open and Miroku slipped inside.

Well, the TV was going, but the couches were conspicuously solitary over there in the corner, and a bitingly cold breeze was wafting into the room. Miroku closed the door behind him as discreetly as he could, looking around at the walls, white, pure, pristine, just as they should be, and the sheer, cream colored drapes flying out about the open window, enshrouding the figure on the sill like ghosts.

Sango was sitting in the crook of the window frame, half outside on the fire escape. She was looking down, absorbed in something, and appeared not to have noticed him. Thank God for small favors.

She was dressed simply in loose- fitting linen pants and a black sweatshirt. Not exactly a provocative style, but... The wind tossed her long, dark hair, and he saw a delicate, white hand reach up to tuck it behind her ear. But there was always something about Sango...

A plaintive mewling reached his ears, and Miroku knew what had absorbed her attention so completely. He sighed.

"Why are you always feeding that stray?" he asked, coming into the room.

In the window, Sango's silhouette stiffened suddenly, and just as quickly relaxed. But she didn't look at him. It looked like it would be the cold shoulder this time.

"That cat's always at my window now," Miroku continued, peeling out of his coat and hanging it up on the rack by the door. He approached the window and leaned up against the wall next to it. "Scrounging for food... It yowls at night, you know."

"Maybe I wouldn't feed the cat," Sango snapped, "If I actually had something to work on." She lifted the scraggly kitten and an empty plate off the fire escape and brought them inside, shutting the window. Without even looking at him, she walked away to the kitchen, presumably to clean off the plate.

"You can't rush art," Miroku called to her retreating back.

Huh. She hadn't even yelled at him. And he couldn't tell if that sign was bad or good, but he did feel oddly neglected.

Oh, well. Good thing he had news he was sure she'd be glad to hear.

He was about to follow Sango into the kitchen when she reappeared, with the tiny kitten in her arms.

"Well," she said icily, "where were you for the last hour?"

"Uh... I'll tell you, of course, Sango. Honesty is the best policy in every relationship –"

"We don't have a relationship!" she interjected forcefully. Ignoring that outburst, Miroku continued steadily onward.

"But first, I must ask, why did you bring that cat inside?"

Sango boosted the cat a little higher in her arms. "I brought Kirara inside because it's too cold out there for her."

"Take her back to your place, then," he said.

"My building doesn't allow pets."

"Well, neither do I."

She bent down and let the cat scamper across the floor. Miroku cringed inside, listening to the scrabble of little claws on his smooth, beautiful hardwood floor.

"I don't want the cat, Sango," he said firmly. Yeah, that would do it. Nice and firm.

"Why not?" she challenged, hand on hip. Damn. That was usually a sign of trouble.

Miroku didn't really know why, himself, actually. It had been sort of a long-standing issue with them, and he just enjoyed disagreeing with her.

"It'll get in the way," he said.

Sango stared at him. "Of what?" she burst out.

It was truly an effort to keep from grinning as he said this. Somehow, he kept his face and voice smooth as silk.

"Of our production."

He had been anticipating a gaping mouth, wide eyes, the works, but all he received for his trouble was a frown and a look of angry suspicion. What a jip.

"You mean the production with no title, no plot, no dancers, no sponsor –"

"But all that's changed," Miroku cut in excitedly. "That's where I was today; I found us a sponsor for our show."

Sango's reaction was, again, a little disappointing.

"How!?" she cried. "We don't even have a show!"

"Not to worry," Miroku grinned slyly, and tapped a finger to his temple. "It's all in here. It came to me in a dream..."

Sango covered her face with her hands and groaned.

"Come on, Sango. I got it all set up."

This seemed to coax her into looking up at him, although all she did was stare. She was silent for a long while as her eyes seemed to harden.

Miroku's innate danger sensors began blaring.

"You did all this without me?" said Sango, in a voice that conveyed both pain and tight, steely anger.

This was going to be a long one. Which could mean only one thing – For sure this time, Miroku was fucked.

''''

Inuyasha and Kagome rode the trolley and walked a few blocks to the building, where Kagome fished a key out of her pocket, opened the door, and led him up a flight of stairs. Inuyasha was grateful to see the end of the trip at last because his duffel bag was weighing down on his shoulder and the muscle felt stiff and frozen.

"Let me go in first," said Kagome, when they reached what was apparently the door to her cousin's apartment. "I'll be just a minute."

She almost reached out for the handle, but the door flew inward suddenly, revealing a young woman dressed in black, with long brown hair down to the small of her back. She stopped short in front of Kagome, looking shocked and harried.

"Sango...?" said Kagome, with a tentative note of concern. The older girl, Sango, gave a loud sniff, as her name was echoed from somewhere inside the apartment.

"Hi, Kagome," she replied brusquely, pulling away from the man who had appeared behind her in the doorway. "I – I'm leaving."

She disappeared, taking the stairs two at a time, while the young man brushed past Inuyasha and Kagome to watch from the top step.

"Hey!" he called out. "Sango, wait!" But she didn't look back and he didn't move from the end of the landing. He turned and his fist hit the wall and he leaned his head on his forearm.

"Um... Miroku?" Kagome attempted.

Oh, so this was her cousin. On the way to the building, Inuyasha had learned that Kagome's cousin was an aspiring choreographer/producer. And, even more shocking, irrefutably heterosexual. And he'd thought his family was a little weird.

Ignoring their presence, Miroku began to laugh darkly and without humor. As his shoulders shook, Inuyasha could see a small tail of black hair flopping between them and was irrationaly jealous.

"She'll be back," said Miroku in a low voice as if he were talking to himself. "Shit, she'd better be back..." His eyes flickered in their direction, and he shoved off the wall and spun shortly on his heel to face Kagome.

"My dearest cousin," Miroku said, as if the entire scene had never taken place. "What is it you wanted?"

"Miroku..." she began softly, then her voice turned flat. "What did you do to Sango?"

His expression became one of guileless shock. "You accuse me? I would never..."

"Oh, sure you would."

"Well!" said Miroku, sounding honestly affronted. "Kagome, what goes on between Sango and myself is not for young ears such as yours."

"Apologize to her," Kagome growled with a voice that promised retribution. In her anger she seemed to fill the room and heat it up like an inferno. Inuyasha made a mental note never to get on her bad side.

To his credit, however, Miroku didn't cower before her, merely tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his long-sleeved charcoal shirt instead.

"All in due time," he managed, coughing just a little to cover a blip of awkwardness. "All in due time. Meanwhile..." His gaze found Inuyasha and latched onto him as one would latch onto a life raft.

"Who is this, Kagome?" asked Miroku with forced interest. His voice took on a tone of reluctant acceptance. "Another stray?"

As Kagome followed her cousin's eyes to Inuyasha, some of the heat seemed to go out of her. "Oh. That's what I wanted to ask you – can my friend stay here for a while?"

"You know any of your young lady friends are welcome at any time," said Miroku. Inuyasha imagined his smile was meant to be disarming, but it came out rather suggestive.

"Um... I meant this friend, here," Kagome told him, gesturing toward the place where Inuyasha was standing.

Miroku sighed. "I know. I just thought you could do with a little reminding."

"Uh- huh..." said Kagome, frowning. "I'll just ignore that. Anyway, can Inuyasha stay for a bit? Do you mind?"

"Well..." Miroku began thoughtfully, but never finished.

Kagome rolled her eyes in a long-suffering manner.

"I'll find out Sango's panty size," she offered dully.

Miroku seemed to perk up and looked wistfully down the stairs, the way Sango had gone.

"By...?" he prompted.

"By... finding you a pair of them," she completed reluctantly, in a tone utterly devoid of enthusiasm.

"Deal."

Once Miroku had left them alone out in the corridor, Inuyasha couldn't help asking, "What's with those two?"

Kagome gave a strange little sigh.

"They're in love," she said with irony. Then she looked at him. "Come on, let's get you inside."

''''

In the darkness, the excess amount of empty space made the apartment seem entirely barren, except for the magnetism of the gray shapes of the other couches. Inuyasha found, also, that if he held his breath and was very still, he could hear the soft wooshing sound that was Kagome's breathing, and Miroku snoring like a buzz saw from the other room. Periodically, a car drove past, and scattered the shadows to the corners.

Inuyasha tossed fitfully on the spongelike sofa, trying for comfort. Kagome had been infuriatingly right about the couch.

"God this is uncomfortable," he said to the room in general.

"You can try the floor if you'd like," came Kagome's voice groggily from somewhere nearby, startling him. He'd thought she was asleep.

"Okay," he agreed. If it would get him to sleep, he was willing to try it. Inuyasha tumbled off the couch, dragging blankets and pillows to the floor with him.

He lied on his back, unable to see the ceiling even as he stared straight up. A car flashed its headlights across his eyes as it sped by. Better, but still not great. Maybe Kagome hadn't been the best choice after all, but lying on her floor in the dark he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Inuyasha slowed his breathing and sought out the sound of Kagome drifting off to sleep, the gradual evening of her breath. Instead he heard a timid clicking noise, like claws on hard wood. A pair of luminous eyes peered out at him as if floating in empty space.

Inuyasha flinched, then sighed as he realized it was only Kirara, the cat. White fur appeared around the disembodied eyes as Kirara padded toward him. Flopping back down on his back, Inuyasha watched the cat surreptitiously, hands pillowing his head. She sniffed at him daintily before curling up in the center of his chest.

He would have tossed her off, but the small, warm bundle was oddly comforting, and the warmth of another body made him feel as if he was not alone. And if he squashed the cat in his sleep, it was the animal's own fault.

It felt different to fall asleep there, listening to the slow inhale and exhale of a person he half-liked but barely knew and feeling Kirara's tiny ribcage press into him with each intake of breath.

It was one of the most comfortable experiences of his life so far.

Surreal... but nice.

''''

A/N: Busy, busy, busy... Anyway, lots of introductions here. That's always fun. Don't you agree?

Thanks for reviewing, everybody!!