A/N: I forgot my standard practice of dating and marking chapters. I guess I don't write enough. I'll start next chapter, even though the next four have been written already. Oh well. Let's see, any questions? No. Comments? Yes!
Aamalie, you wag your finger at me? I do nothing but fill up your inbox with garbage. FlamingRedFox, I apologize right now. You'll see why. Taishoku Kurayami, no Kohaku this time around, but I love my messed up version of him. Lady Sango 7, hopefully the fluff is enough to balance out the angst ).
Everyone else, thanks alot and you won't find out what happened for a good six chapters. Please stick around, for me?
Finally, fic is for Kat because she's being productive. It's still for her if she wasn't.
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"You brought it back?" His voice sounded surprised and slightly pleased.
She bent her chin down, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. Determinedly, she held out the neatly folded, freshly washed jacket in front of her, willing him to take it.
"Did you happen by here by accident?" he asked curiously, scanning her face. "How did you know I was working?"
"I - " she sputtered. Truthfully, she was on her way to pick up a prescription and just felt as though she had to bring the jacket with her. "I don't know."
"I guess the saying is true," he said thoughtfully as he took the clothing from her hands.
"What saying?"
"You know, that if you let a hot shoplifter go with something of yours, and they come back to return it, then they're a decent person."
"I'm not a shoplifter!" she corrected automatically. "But . . . it was nice of you," she said in a rush.
"Pardon me?"
"I said, it was nice of you," she repeated even more quickly.
"Can't quite hear you," he teased her. "Maybe if you - "
His fingers gently lifted her chin, dragging her gaze away from their shoes, and towards his face. "- spoke to me instead of the ground."
Her cheeks had begun to glow a brilliant shade of pink, and as soon as his fingers left her face it dropped a little.
"Here, to pay you back," she offered, her hands fumbling to open her purse. "You gave me way too much, I really don't need it - "
"I refuse to accept any reimbursements," he said airily. "I work, don't I? Not a cushy office job, but hey, I'm making money."
Disappointed, she dropped her wallet back into her purse, suddenly very aware of the shopping bags she was holding.
"How's your brother?"
She paused, caught off guard.
"Remember?" he said teasingly. "You came here to get him medicine."
Flustered, she hurriedly tucked flyaway strands of hair securely behind her ears. "Oh, he's fine. It's just that he had a hard time getting over pneumonia as a child and sometimes I get worried."
His softened gaze travelled down her arms to the little white paper prescription bag sitting on top of the other items she had purchased. "Didn't get enough last time?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Following the direction of his stare, the chagrin returned to her face. "Oh, that?" she gave a nervous laugh. "It's for my brother. This other stuff is for the house, it's been awhile since we moved in and everything's just - sorry, rambling."
"I don't mind if you ramble," he said casually, giving her a lazy smile. "Your voice is sweet. Honey-like."
Honey-like? What?
"So, umm . . . Miroku . . . if I can call you that . . . I should probably, well - leave." Wow, she was ever the conversationalist today.
He nodded for a moment, leaning against the wall behind him. Outside it was slightly humid from light rainfall, yet an uplifting breeze complimented the heat.
"Your name."
"Name?" she asked.
He looked amused again. "You know, what people call you by."
"At work they call me Kirisame-san, but . . . my first name is Sango."
A lazy grin spread across his lips. "You paused."
Now she was flustered. "What do you mean?"
"You paused before telling me your given name . . . Sango." He emphasized her name with a wink.
"Well - that's because . . . " She put a hand on her hip. "I still remember what you did that night!"
"Oh? What did I do?"
"You . . . you groped me!"
"Oh yeah," he chuckled. "That."
"It's not funny. How could you forget?" she glared at him, all politeness forgotten. "Just how many innocent women have you groped?" she demanded with narrowed eyes.
"Innocent?" he raised his eyebrows jokingly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, concerning women in general, a fair few, I must say." Her face began to flush in disbelief, but seeing her getting all fired up only made him look happier.
"You do look enchanting when you blush, even if you are because you're getting angry at me," he admitted.
"I'm not angry!" she yelped. "Just... shocked and somewhat disgusted."
"Hey now," he raised his arms in front of him. "Disgusted is such a strong word."
"I am," she huffed, crossing her arms, though it was somewhat difficult with her shopping bags in the way.
"But you can't deny that I'm a pretty nice guy, right?" he pointed out, smiling at her.
"You act like one, but how would I know?" she argued, at that point, forcefully remembering him lifting her from the puddles and letting her off without reporting her.
"I'll prove it."
In the same manner as he had done a few nights ago, he reached forward and tugged the shopping bags from her arms.
"Where's your car?"
"What?" she began to sputter. "Why?"
"I'm earning my way back into your good merits again," he said teasingly. "So where is it?"
"But - you..." her arms dropped to her sides. "It's over here."
He had started to follow her when she whipped around again, her hair flying over her shoulder.
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" she inquired with narrowed eyes.
He shrugged. "Consider me on lunch break."
Shaking her head, she found herself smiling a little bit. "You're really something else. Say in the time it takes for you to carry these to my car, and walk back, a gang breaks into the drugstore and steals sixty percent of the inventory. Then what would you do?"
Tipping his chin up thoughtfully, he answered. "I'd blame it on the other guard. He asked me if I wanted to switch posts with him today because no one ever steals from the drugstore and he enjoys manhandling shoppers. He can do that better in the main mall. Or I could say I was on parking lot duty . . . "
Sango raised her eyebrows as she inserted the key into the car, unlocking the back door. "Interesting."
"Not really," he disagreed. "It's just standing, sitting, warning, and watching. You're about the most interesting thing I've encountered for the last couple of months . . . at work, that is."
"That's nice," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked away.
The free hand at her waist was jerked forward, the warmth from his fingers around it spreading up her arm. The ghost of a shiver coursed over her skin.
"I do hope you'll stop by again soon," he said in an oh-so-persuasive voice. "After all, the shopping - " He leaned down, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "- is great."
With that, he laid her hand back at her side, and began to walk back to his post. He turned back and waved.
She was leaning against the side of her car, unaware of the silly shaky hand motions she was making that was supposed to resemble a wave.
The short time they'd walked, she hadn't said much, but he never seemed uncomfortable. Every time that she would look up to his face, quickly, so that he wouldn't notice, he'd already be looking back at her.
He'd always be smiling.
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Any Given Someday
Chapter Four:
Take These Chances
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"He called again last night, ane-ue," Kohaku informed her as he sat down at the table with a glass of orange juice.
"What'd he say?"
"He asked if you were available, and I said you were asleep. Then he left his number, and all was well."
"Did he say he'd call again?" she asked, biting into a slice of toast.
"Yeah. He probably wants to go out with you sometime."
"Again?" she complained, groaning.
He downed the rest of his juice. "I'm not going with you," he snapped as he plunked the cup on the counter.
She dropped her plate into the sink, running water over it. "I don't plan on going anywhere tonight, dear brother. If he calls again, tell him I'm sick."
--
"Sango-chan, can I -"
"Borrow my car tonight?"
Kagome looked sheepish. "Sorry this is such short notice, but it's kind of urgent."
Sango tapped her pen across the records she was filling in. "Let me guess. Dear Inuyasha wrecked his car again."
She sighed, propping her elbow on the desk. "I always tell him to keep his temper under control when he's driving. But no, this time he turned around the flip the bird to the car behind him but ended up hitting the car in front of him."
"Wonderful," Sango commented, leaning back in her chair.
"He's really been doing better though!" she insisted, her chin bobbing up and down. "It just so happens that he was flipping the bird to Kouga-kun!"
A knowing smirk darted across her lips. Hey, she couldn't help it.
"And I'm really sorry for having to ask you on such short notice," Kagome didn't notice as she rambled. "But he didn't tell me until last night!"
"Kagome-chan," Sango sighed as she propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her palm. "Why is it always you asking to borrow someone's car? Doesn't he have any friends he can borrow a car from?"
The girl on the other side, holding a small stack of misplaced mail, rolled her eyes. "His pride doesn't allow him. You know . . ." she hesitated. "Miroku . . . he won't allow him," she added quickly after that.
"Did he ask him?" Sango showed no reaction to the name.
"Yes, but he said no. Probably because he's afraid of his car being towed or destroyed." She huffed in irritation. "So you understand my dilemma?"
"Well, when you put it that way," Sango said lazily, swinging the ring of keys around her index finger. "It would be absolutely evil of me not to give you the car."
Kagome bent over the desk and gave Sango a blank stare. "Not the sarcasm Sango-chan."
The receptionist swung the keys around her index finger one last time before catching them in her fist and depositing on the desk in front of Kagome. "Granted."
Her eyes lit up like she was nine years old on her tenth birthday, and she was ecstatic at reaching the coveted land of double digits.
"Really?" she gasped excitedly. Her hand reached toward the ring of keys but stopped an inch from them. "Really?" she asked again.
Sango nodded good-naturedly. "It's all yours."
Kagome's mid-length black hair swished about her shoulders as she twirled in the middle of the foyer. "Thank you Sango-chan," she sang, now swinging the keys around her own finger. "You're the best!"
Sango's eyes widened as Kagome charged at her, jumping halfway onto the desk so that her legs hung over the edge. Her small hands grabbed the front of Sango's shirt and pulled her forward into a bone-crunching hug.
"You're welcome, Kagome-chan," Sango choked as she reached to pat her awkwardly on the back. The crook of her neck was fitted to Kagome's shoulder, and even from this distance she could see Miroku looking directly at her friend's backside.
"Sorry," she apologized, flushing as she released her. "It's just that I'm always borrowing your car. I can't wait until the day I have enough to buy my own, instead of sharing with Souta. I have to do something nice for you one day."
"You don't have to," Sango said flatly, managing to recover a half-smile.
"Oh! Here's the mail mix-up today! My first in a string of many nice things I'll be doing for you!" the younger girl chirped, dropping a stack of envelopes and a few parcels atop the records Sango was working on.
"Thanks."
Kagome's beaming face seemed to have become permanent. "So do you want me to drive you home tonight?"
"What time to you get off?"
"Five. You?"
"Six."
The corners of Kagome's lips drooped just a little bit. "How come you get off later than I do? That's not fair!"
"Life's not fair, Kagome-chan."
She pouted from the other side of the desk, crossing her arms. "Then how will you get home?"
Sango was stacking the parcels to the side, intent on filling the records out again. "I'll call a cab," she shrugged.
Kagome was looking at the keys in the middle of her palm. "You sure?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, I'm sure," Sango said firmly. "Take my damn car and enjoy your date."
Slowly, the unsure look on Kagome's mouth spread to the full-fledged beam once again. "Well," she said thoughtfully, now digging through her purse. "Here's the money to cover it." A wad of bills fell on the topmost parcel.
Before Sango could retort, Kagome had already skipped away, the keys clanging together as they hung from her pinkie.
--
The rain had begun to fall, the patter echoing across the hallway in a somewhat hypnotic rhythm. She had just powered down, and was preparing to walk by the security post.
I did it this morning, what's stopping me now?
Oh, right. She had gone into Kagome's building and walked across the adjoining tunnel into hers.
Quickening her pace, she briskly walked forward until she passed him, his form merely a blur in the corner of her eye. Pressing her palms against the cool glass, the door opened and the droplets softly pelted across her face. Mentally proud of herself, she walked out to the curb until she realized she had lent away her ride home.
Her frustrated gaze dropped to the ground in front of her feet, fixed upon the steady image of the water as it hit the stone splashed back slightly, forming streams along the gaps between the blocks.
She could feel it.
The feeling she got when he would stare at her from behind, be it at her ass, or at her whole body.
Damn glass doors.
So, she wondered as she felt a faint wetness drip through her hair to her scalp. Will I turn around and walk in there? Do I have a choice?
Steeling herself, she kept her head down as she walked stiffly back through the door in which she came, not bothering to wipe the liquid from her brow, instead letting the drops roll over the structures of her face, forming a steady dripping from her chin.
Why did her desk feel so damn far away? Stepping forward, a question shattered the silence.
"Back so soon?" his voice echoed around the empty entrance hall. His feet were propped on the desk again.
She couldn't read his voice, it was too forced, as if he was trying to hold something back; anger, spite, satisfaction, maybe even concern? She couldn't tell. The lights in the complex had already dimmed for the evening, and in addition to his hair hanging low over his eyes, his face was heavily veiled from her.
"I need to use the phone," she said quietly.
"Can't hear you too well," that distant voice, so unlike the warm, carefree default, scared her a bit. "Talk to me . . . instead of the ground."
She tried again, her temper flaring unnecessarily. "Need to use that phone." Her arm swung out automatically, indicating the phone that sat next to his heels.
"Why?" he threw at her. She convinced herself that she had only heard undertones of embittered mirth as he spoke.
"I'm calling a cab," she said calmly, refraining from raising her voice.
"Where's your car?" came his instant reply. His feet fell from the desk to the floor with an echoing thud.
"Lent it away."
"Well," he said slowly, twisting the phone cord around his finger. "Well..."
Impatient and uncomfortable, she dropped her bag. "Well what?"
His fingers trailed along the smooth plastic of the receiver, and she found herself swallowing, her hand raising to fist at the base of her throat.
He gripped the receiver tightly, his head bowed and shrouded by shadow. Slowly, he lifted it, a small click reaching her ears as the flat dial tone emanated from the receiver he held in his hands, the only sound between them against the dull patter of the rain.
The receiver slammed back onto the phone, and she jumped. "I'm afraid I won't allow it," he said quietly, raising his face to look at her. He was smiling. The same warm, mischievous smile she remembered. . . or was it?
"W- What do you mean, 'you won't allow it?' Who the hell do you think you are?" Sango exploded, her hands fisting at her sides.
"Don't waste your time," Miroku fired back, standing up and leaning over the desk, looking at her in a way she couldn't place.
"How do you expect me to get home?" she argued, her arms now gesturing wildly. "What is it to you if I take a damn taxi?"
"I'll drive you."
Silence.
"No," she whispered, taking an inadvertent step backwards. "No, no," she repeated in breathless gasps, until her back bumped against one of the columns that marked the entrances.
"What's so different? You said you didn't want things to change between us," he said, stepping around the desk and pulling on his coat.
Oh, how she hated his damn ambiguous tones, unreadable expressions, the veiled meanings behind his words. She found her body frozen against that pillar, helplessly watching as he approached in the dim light.
"I said I didn't want things to change, but then you left - " she found herself saying, her throat suddenly raspy and dry.
Along the way, he picked up her fallen bag, and reached to take her wrist . . .
"You never said don't go."
She didn't know why she did it, all that she knew was that her hand had suddenly stopped gripping the edge of the pillar, and instead had swung outward and struck him across the face.
His head was turned to the side, his hand holding his surely stinging cheek.
Her back slid down the pillar until she hit the ground, and she didn't want to look at him anymore. She bent her knees to her chest and covered her face with her hands, breathing long and deep. Ignoring the shifting of the contents in her bag as it was placed beside her, she drowning out the sound of him calling for a cab, letting the pulse of the rain on glass be her comfort.
--
When she returned home that evening, she shuffled up the stairs slowly. There was light sifting across the hardwood from the crack beneath Kohaku's door. She closed the door to her own room behind her, and leaned against it, taking deep breaths and looking up to see the bed before her, the focal point of her gaze.
The bed was wide, queen sized, if she remembered correctly. As of now it was simply a place to sleep, and rest. It was no longer a place to be pampered, loved, pleasured. The only arms that held her now were her own.
Her nails were in danger of being detached from her skin as she tore at the sheets, ripping them from the bed, jostling the mattress. The bedside table shook with her displaced energy; the picture frames, face down, inches from falling to the ground.
As of now, she hated him, she hated everything about him, she cursed his existence . . . yet she didn't at the same time. She couldn't.
The first button on her shirt had popped off, the second one dangerously close, and the seam along the lining of her skirt was significantly torn. It was then, as she collapsed on the naked mattress, eyes glazed and unfeeling, that she knew she still loved him.
She hated him.
And she loved him.
The sheets were all over the floor.
--
And you'll be sorry
Isn't that what they'll say?
Don't follow your heart,
It just seems to get in your way.