A/N: 140 page views, and only 4 reviews :S Leave me a word of encouragement? Even a simple "update soon!" would be suffice. -does puppy eyes-

Warnings: AU, mild swearing, OOCness for some characters (not too far off, just taken creative license with it and made them more fun and lovable to write about)

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Anyone willing to lend me Jakotsu?

The Suite Life

Today was a big day at the hotel. Guests were pouring in from the busy streets of New York. Snow was dancing in the air, twirling around before settling on the wet pavement of the blanketed city. Buildings were coated like icing on a cake, and the cheery lights shone through prettily. Every few seconds the door would open and a gust of wind could be heard from the outside, and people would quickly clamber in to avoid the cold. A rush of warm air would kiss their rosy cheeks as the guests smiled at the luxurious entrance of the hotel.

Kikyou was having a field day with the guests. For "upper class" individuals, they were all pretty stingy and unsurprisingly snobby. Even Miroku was absent from his daily visits every morning at the counter. Another reason would be because both of them weren't talking to each other.

Miroku sighed as he looked out the door at the busy crowds. His violet eyes had a sad tone, like a pail of grey washed over. His spirits weren't high and if forced to, he would heave a smile and pretend everything was normal. The biting truth of Sango's wedding in 2 days was becoming even more real as he watched Sango greet each guest.

"I bet she doesn't even know half of them," muttered Miroku bitterly. He pushed his hair back and flopped it back again. He felt a teensy bit nervous, aggravated, sad, angry, anticipated…all at once. Like a giant ball of emotions. "Christ, I sound like a chick."

"You're acting like one too," remarked Inuyasha. Miroku death-glared him but didn't say anything.

"You're not even going to hit me?"

That comment was bluntly responded by deafening silence from Miroku.

"You know, you can still take her out for lunch. She's not married so technically she's still in the market."

He ignored that one too.

"Heck, you can give her a good lay if you want…"

Miroku slowly counted to 3, mentally swearing but keeping a cool demeanor. I will not rip his head off, I will not rip anything off…

"I bet she wouldn't mind." That's it.

"You don't know the fuck you're saying," growled Miroku.

"And I thought I was the one who should cut back on swearing," smirked Inuyasha dangerously. Miroku loaded the dishwasher from across the kitchen so he wouldn't be tempted to push Inuyasha inside an oven.

"If she means that much to you…"

"Look she doesn't mean anything," Miroku cut in. Inuyasha squinted at him with a raised eyebrow. Miroku turned away and grumbled something about intimidating-disbelieving-looks.

Miroku quickly finished wiping the counter and checked out for the day. He put apron away and strolled out of the kitchen and to the change room to change into his casual clothes. Dark denim jeans hung loosely at his waist, the waistband of his boxers peeped out but was covered by fitting white button-up and a black zipper-hoodie, left opened. There was a bit of fur on the edge of the hood that tickled his neck.

There was a crowd of people outside, politely nudging the person ahead of them to keep moving. The janitor was trying his best to do his job: mopping the wet floors before someone slips on a chunk of melted snow and falls down, then complains to the hotel staff for inadequate safety measures.

Up ahead of the long lineup was a girl with soft brown hair. She had dark purple eyeliner with fading shades of fuchsia eye shadow on the lid, and under certain light it shimmered. No doubt was put on professionally by some makeup specialist. It was Sango, her face plastered with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, shaking hands with every stranger that walked by. Her eyes screamed boredom.

"Hello," cut in Miroku, hand out ready for a shake. He was not sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. It was as if some foreign alien had channeled into his mind and took over his actions. The woman behind him huffed indignantly and did a once over on his casual attire. He was the only one wearing jeans in the entire lobby.

Sango's smile dropped as she frowned, a bit surprised but at the same time not. "Hi…"

"Just who do you think you are, punk?" tapped the woman, smacking her lips impatiently. Onlookers were pausing to watch what was the commotion. He saw several security guards looking with suspicion as they carefully made their way over.

Miroku sneaked a look out of the corner of his eye and saw Sango's eyes roll like slot machines. He smiled politely to the woman and in as serious of a tone as he could muster, he said, "I'm her boy toy Raul, specially shipped from Milan to allow her to indulge wildest fantasies on me that her fiancée couldn't. This is a booty call." Miroku's mind screamed 'what do you think you're doing!'

Both women's eyes widened to the size of golf balls. Miroku tipped his head, said G'day, and dragged Sango out quickly.

Miroku stared at her as they both stood outside the hotel in the snowy winter day. The snow was starting to fog Miroku's glasses. Sango blinked twice before realizing where she was.

"Stop staring," she griped. That only made him look deeper. Miroku wasn't quite sure why the sudden change in his mood, but he couldn't deny the fact that upsetting Sango definitely puts a plus to his day.

"What do you think you're doing?" she blurted. Puffs of white air was visible when she spoke.

"I'm taking you out for lunch. You know, catch up on the missed times?" echoed Miroku. Whoever, or whatever, was channeling this, he was starting to like it. He liked how sure it made his voice sound when in fact he had no idea what he was doing. Strange sense of déjà vu washed over Sango, as she hesitantly smiled. "I thought you were mad?"

Miroku faked a look of surprise. "Me? Mad? You must be imagining it."

Neither of them said anything. Miroku stared out on the streets as cars sloshed through the slippery roads. "I didn't know you wore glasses," commented Sango. Miroku had rimless glasses, who's frame was sleek silver. It made his violet eyes even more radiant, and also gave an air of intelligence.

"They don't have prescription. Chicks dig the glasses so they stay," shrugged Miroku. Sango 'tched'. "Now let's go before that woman comes back with your dad and demand an explanation that I don't have."

"Wait! Where are we going?" Sango called after Miroku as he ran across the street. Miroku didn't answer her, leaving her hesitant of what to do. Then, Sango jaywalked. For the first time in many years.

& & & & & &

"I almost got hit by a damn truck you prick," said Sango, slapping him with her purse.

"Ow, what is it with women and their brick-purses? Geez!" complained Miroku, rubbing his arm. Sango sniffed, muttering heartless as she readjusted the strap of the purse on her shoulder.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Remember that old bar down by the-"

"It's 3 in the afternoon, and I don't drink." Anymore, thought Sango.

Miroku stared, his brow wrinkled as he pursed his lips. "Well you're no fun. Where's the alcoholic bitch we all know and love?"

Sango gave him a good slap on his head before turning around and walking the other way. Miroku let a grin slip and caught up to her.

"I was going to say, before I was rudely interrupted," said Miroku, his eyes twinkling, "the new McDonalds that recently opened by that old bar."

Going to McDonalds was perhaps the dumbest thing he had ever said yet. It's not that he was cheap, he certainly was a lot more lenient with his income spendings than Inuyasha was. He suggested it because…

"I hate McDonalds," said Sango frowning.

Miroku's eyes smiled amusedly. He wasn't a fan of that fast food restaurant either. The fact that the fries don't digest was enough to make him hurl. "You're the one that wanted to catch up," he shrugged, "If you don't want to go there it's fine, I'll catch you later." He made a notion to leave.

"You won't leave me here," retorted Sango.

Want to bet? Miroku sauntered away, mentally counting before Sango would call him back. So predictable.

"You bastard!" she exclaimed. Miroku slipped on the sidewalk as Sango pushed him, hard. Her cheeks blushed as she realized how physical she was getting. Physically abusive that is. She couldn't recall the last time she had pushed someone either.

"So," she started, grimacing at her Big Mac while taking a bite out of it.

Miroku waited for her to continue. He took his glasses off and put them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. They were seated near the windows where they could see the busy crowded street. He stared out at the street, his eyes following the strange pattern of snowflakes falling down.

"I suppose I could tell you what I did in London," mused Sango.

"Other than inherit that ridiculous English accent?"

Evil glare. "I do not have any accent," said Sango sharply.

Miroku shrugged nonchalantly, which only pissed Sango off even more.

"Are you saying I'm lying?"

"I didn't say anything," replied Miroku innocently.

"Yes you did, your eyes says it all. You're implying that I sound stupid…"

"You sound like an idiot right now," he chuckled.

Sango was about to retaliate, lash back full on but stopped when she saw Miroku laughing. A genuine smirk turned into a full blown laugh. His eyes crinkled, his mouth slightly opened and peals of laughter slipped through. His shoulders were slouched slightly, and he leaned back casually in the hard chairs. One of his long legs were stretched out to the side while the other occasionally brushed by her leg. Accidentally.

"You are infuriating," hissed Sango as threw her coke at his face. She snatched her purse and overcoat, and walked out.

Miroku blinked. "I hope Inuyasha could get this stain off…"

& & & & & &

It was 9:00, meaning another five hours at the hotel before he can go home. Tonight, Miroku didn't mind working a night shift. It would get his mind off things and he wouldn't need to think of excuses to avoid Kikyou. And it also meant there were more chances of bumping into Sango.

It took him an hour to get the coke smell out of his hair. A shower longer than his claustrophobic self would like. He also had to start laundry right away so he could get the crap off the fur on his hoodie. The problem was, he didn't know how to work the washing machine. So he settled for soaking his clothes in the bathtub.

Jakotsu the slave driver was at it again. What does he want now? he thought. The very metro-sexual male was ranting about how the curtains -must- match the chairs and tablecloths or else -everything- is wrong. "Oh Miroku, I'm so glad you're here," smiled Jakotsu, "Here is the list of things to do with this hall. Make it gorgeous, I want this place to look like heaven in time for the heiress's wedding." Jakotsu pranced off before Miroku could respond.

"But I'm only Room Service," said Miroku stupidly, blinking at the list.

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing," joked Inuyasha, popping out of no where.

Miroku stared at him, wondering if it was wise to comment on his sudden cheery behavior. He felt like Scrooge compared to Inuyasha right now. And that was a lot to say. He looked back at the list at hand. The list of errands looked like a clipping out of a Perfect Weddings magazine.

"Why does everything have to match?" asked Inuyasha, peering down at the list.

On the bottom of the paper it said: Have everything done by 12:00AM, Sango will drop by to inspect. Any changes she want will be made, you are to comply.

"Damn, he set me up," said Miroku muttering under his breath. The irony was dripping. Him help plan for Sango's wedding reception. "Are you playing a joke on me God!" he cried out in mock anger.

Inuyasha blinked. "I thought you believed in Buddha?"

& & & & & &

Miroku slouched down over the piano, his head resting on his arms, his legs too tired to move. Who would've thought that people didn't have enough common sense to not send folding chairs for a wedding? This hotel was so swanky he doubted that folding chairs had ever set foot into the building. His back was tired from standing up for 3 hours straight and his hair was mussed up from the countless pullings while dealing with the delivery men. It was aggravating.

However the room looked enchanting. Most people were gone except for a few that were working the graveyard shift. The room was clothed in silky navy, thin sheets of curtains hung through the window, their black screens letting in light from the city below. The city that never sleeps. The dark room had soft hazy lights aglow from various spots on the wall.

On one side of the room was entirely made of windows instead of walls. There were small tables, seated for two, near the windows. The grand piano was placed in a corner of the room, where a pianist was suppose to play. But for now, they had a portable CD player doing it's job. Soft melodious music spilled through the room. It was like a mini-café, except more magical.

"Maybe I need some orange juice decaf like Kikyou," he muttered. Kikyou's name felt foreign to his lips, even though it had only been a day that he didn't talk to her. The night after the confrontations at the counter, the trio went home in silence. Kikyou went home and slammed the door shut. Miroku did the same locking himself in his room. Inuyasha only cursed, "Feh, bunch of retards," and went to watch his soap operas.

It felt weird to be in an argument with his cousin. Sure they argue everyday, but it was out of good nature. It had been a long time since they ignored each other like that.

"Do you always talk to yourself, or is it 'cuz you're always this lonely?" said Sango. When did she come in?

"What can I say? I'm my own best company," said Miroku coolly. Still, despite his unfaltering blasé demeanor, the slight droop in his eyelids told her that Miroku was tired. Sango's heart did a lurch when a thought crossed her mind. He looks good. The thought left her mind quickly but the tingling feeling in her heart didn't abate.

"What are you staring at?" asked Miroku sleepily, scratching the back of his neck. He didn't want to move so he laid still, sprawled over the piano.

Sango tried not to look at the way his pants fit his legs so well. "Ahem," coughed Sango. Miroku hastily checked the time on his watch. 12:15AM.

"You're late," he said.

"The client is never wrong," she waved it off.

Right. "Let's talk about your reception then," said Miroku, slightly bitter if not tired. Emphasis on 'reception' made Sango's stomach turn. Getting married in a day, the day after tomorrow. Felt like the apocalypse was coming.

"Let's talk about this over some food, I'm hungry for a snack."

"I'm still working," stated Miroku, pointing to his uniform. Sango rolled her eyes and ripped the tie and apron off him.

"Now you're not, let's go."

"So efficient," muttered Miroku, pushing away any less-than-decent-ideas invading his mind.

The two sat at a table in a desert café. If it wasn't for their current situation, it'd make an ideal date spot. Fountains, jazz, window looking out to the nightlights. Miroku unbuttoned the collar button that was choking him and relaxed.

"Do you always gorge on cheesecake every night?"

"Yes, why?"

"Your figure would say otherwise," noted Miroku lightly. Sango blushed at the compliment.

"So, about that wedding," started Miroku. He wasn't quite sure how to continue so his statement hung in the air. He still wasn't in terms with his feelings. He wasn't even sure if he had feelings for her. Though it was apparent to everyone else, he was still doubtful. No doubt he was jealous that Sango was getting married to another man, but why? It's not like they were an item to begin with. Were they?

"Are you even listening?" complained Sango.

"No," he admitted, "I'm not interested. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay…"

"I'll ask you a question, and you answer, and vice versa."

"Like 20 questions?"

"I guess."

Miroku twiddled his thumbs, thinking of which question to ask first. Thankful for the waiters interruption, the tension lightened. He stared at Sango, daring her to look away. "Did you date anyone while you were away?"

Sango chewed thoughtfully on her cake. "No one other than Kuranosuke." How sweet, he thought dryly.

"And you?"

"Yeah, quite a few. The one that last the longest was… half a year."

Sango's hand slipped as her fork made a screeching sound against the plate. Oops. Miroku raised an eyebrow. She smiled weakly and shrugged. Miroku sat back, his legs brushed by hers. He felt his cheeks color, and wisely didn't say anything. He hoped she didn't notice.

Sango shifted in her seat, her eyes drilling holes into the plate.

"Did you have sex in London?"

Sango snapped her head, staring at him incredulously. "That's none of your business!" The dark room was quiet and if anyone that was there pretended they were invisible just so they could eavesdrop.

"I'll take that as a no," he taunted. I hope it's a no, said his possessive side.

"What about you?" blurted Sango before she could take it back. She didn't want to hear the answer to that one when it's so obvious that it was a…

"Of course." Sango bit the inside of her mouth and put down the fork. She didn't feel like eating. Miroku however finished off his slice and was already ordering for a second one.

"Uhm," said Miroku, his cheeks bulging with food, "Do you really want to get married?"

Sango felt the familiar beating in her heart again. Steady, she thought bringing her hand to her chest. "I guess," she said quietly.

"You guess? Elaborate," said Miroku. It appeared that he wasn't taking this seriously as he had called the waiter for another two slices. But he was as tentative as ever.

"I pass then," replied Sango.

"You can't pass…"

"My turn," she said with finality. "What were in those letters you wrote me?"

Miroku stared for a moment before realizing what letters she was talking about. "Oh. I pass?"

Sango shook her head, smirking. He licked his lips and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He pushed the glasses up his nose and watched Sango for any response. She sat there passively waiting.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said quietly.

"Why?" she mouthed.

"Well…" he drifted off. He looked out the window and saw that it haven't stopped snowing. There was at least a feet of snow outside. He remembered last year when him and Shippou were outside making a snowmen during his work time (playing hooky what else?). Shippou asked why everyone makes such a big deal out of the stupid snow, and he replied with something about "nothing but warm memories, kiddo."

Miroku smiled, remembering how he got yelled at by Inuyasha for wanting to save the snowman's head in the freezer. He got his salary docked twice! Amongst that, it was also the time when Sango left for London. Of course he didn't know the exact time she left until he woke up 2 hours too late the next morning.

His memories weren't warm, but it seemed like the rest of the world chose this time to fall in love.

"Remember how I poured that bucket of fresh snow in your face that one morning?" asked Sango, laughing in her own reminisce. He chuckled lightly, his eyes in a far away look.

"I…"

Her stomach felt warm as she listened attentively, anticipating for the answer. Hoping and wishing it was the confessions that she daydreamed about years ago. Something in Sango's mind nagged her that this wasn't right. I'm just curious, this means nothing, she thought, pushing away her conscience.

"I…" he open his mouth and then shut it again. His eyes narrow as he bit his lip. Sango watched his chest rise slightly with every breath.

"I wrote that I loved you and would wait for you to come back…"

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Her throat felt dry and even though she wanted to say something, her heart pulled it back down. She had so many things to say at once she couldn't decide what to say. Sango calmed her breathing down and tried to look passive.

"Really?" What was suppose to come out as disinterested came out more astounded than she hoped.

Miroku took a sip of his glass. "No. I was just messing with you," he pulled a big grin. He stood up and got ready to leave. "No one said we had to answer truthfully right?" his smirk was maddening.

Sango's jaw opened and shut like a fish. Her eyes blinked a few times and glared. Bastard.

"I uh, only have 20 dollars with me…so thank you, for your treat." Miroku left before she pummeled him to hell with her purse. He had ordered almost half of an expensive cheesecake after all, but he wasn't quite sure if he was being damned for that.

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