Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in these off hours… especially for the one whose innocent act isn't fooling anyone. A nod of recognition is bent towards Rumiko Takahashi for her creative prowess.

This chapter was posted on June 29, 2009.

Sniff

Miroku loitered outside the girls' dormitory, and when Sango strode through the doors, glowering at the slip of paper in her hand, he pushed off the wall and strolled into her path. "Well, hello there!"

She glanced up, startled. "What are you doing here? And don't tell me you just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"It's Tuesday," Miroku said with an amiable shrug. "It's my day off, and I was out for a wander. Is this where you live?"

Sango rolled her eyes at his less-than-convincing innocent act. "How long have you been waiting out here?" she asked dryly.

"Not long," he grinned. "So… what's put a frown on your lovely face?"

"This," she grumped waving the paper at him.

"What is it?"

"A list."

"Of?" he patiently pried.

With a sigh, she passed it along. "It's Sesshoumaru's approved list."

His eyes skimmed the neat print, and his brows lifted. "Shampoo?"

"When I first started at Founder's, Sesshoumaru actually gave me some, but I used up the last of it yesterday. I went back to my old brand… but…"

"He noticed?"

"He wrinkled his nose at me!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Then told me I could go home early… and handed me this."

Miroku laughed at her obvious pique. "Peaceful coexistence requires a certain amount of give and take."

"I'm not sure I like all this sniffing; it's invasive!"

"I suppose I'm used to it."

"That's right," she replied, looking at him speculatively. "Wolf-youkai must have sensitive noses, too. Does that mean you use one of these?"

"Nooo, but I'm familiar with the brand names," Miroku replied, passing the list back to her. "By the look of it, Sesshoumaru's expensive tastes aren't confined to his palate. These are high-end salon products and cost a pretty penny."

"There goes my budget," Sango groaned.

"You know, Sesshoumaru has never complained about the stuff I use. Here… smell," he offered, helpfully tilting his head.

"No, thank you."

"Oh, come on," he coaxed. "It's pack-approved and reasonably-priced."

"Well…" she said slowly, weakening.

"If it's the 'invasive' sniffing you're worried about, I told you… I'm used to it," he assured. In a gesture of good faith, Miroku shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and that was enough to convince her. Sango stepped closer, going up on tiptoe for an experimental sniff.

Congratulating himself for enticing the perennially suspicious young woman into what amounted to a show of trust, Miroku was caught off guard when cautious fingers lifted a lock of hair, then smoothed it back into place. Oh… please, do that again….

"It's nice," Sango commented. "Although, I don't really smell anything shampoo-y."

"I believe that's the general idea," he quietly replied, resisting the urge to lean into her touch.

She threaded her fingers through his hair a second time, then rubbed several strands between thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, okay. Let's give your stuff a try."

Miroku heaved a regretful little sigh when she stepped back, which earned him a sharp look. He shrugged a sort of apology and nodded down the street. "There's a pharmacy down this way that has a good selection of youkai products. I'd be happy to accompany you."

Sango hesitated a moment, but replied with a resigned, "Yes, please."

He led the way, regaling her with hilariously embarrassing stories about the ups and downs of heightened youkai senses, but to his chagrin, she didn't laugh outright, even at his best stories. There was amusement sparkling in her eyes, but the best he could coax out of her was a kind of wry half-chuckle… and that didn't count. Come to think of it, I've never heard Sango's laughter. She'd always been too serious, but this was the first time he noticed just how wistful her rare smiles were. Filing this tidbit away for future consideration, Miroku held the door to a corner pharmacy and ushered Sango to the aisle where she'd be able to find shampoo. Her curiosity was as bad as any cat-youkai's, but he didn't mind wandering after her as she prowled the rest of the store, exploring all the shelves.

Nodding politely to the proprietress, a bright-eyed tanuki, Miroku let his thoughts wander back to earlier, and a foolish grin spread over his face. He knew it was silly because he was human, and she was human, and it didn't mean anything really, but…. He still felt six kinds of smug over something that meant everything in canine circles. She thinks I smell nice.

End Note: This drabble (which is technically too long to qualify as a drabble) was begun at the behest of two lovely ladies over at iyissekiwa, who were sweet enough to request an update to 'that coffee shop story' during last week's contest. I did try. Really, I did. But as often happens, the original idea morphed out of recognition, and by the time this ficlet was done, all signs of the intended theme had vanished without a trace. Unless, of course, you believe that sniff plus hair equals snare? 748 words.