Chapter Eleven
"When It Rains—Well It Sure as Hell Doesn't Get Better"
"What the fuck are you doing?" Inuyasha snapped so forcefully that Kagome flinched, dropping the paper. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"I opened the box and the bag tore. I guess it got stuck to the tape. I wasn't just tearing into stuff, honest."
Kagome still held onto the bag to keep it from sinking farther into the box, but he looked so angry, and she wasn't sure what she'd done wrong.
Inuyasha stalked over, staring at the box.
"I just didn't want anything to get damaged because it was going to fall."
"It's fine," he said, reaching in and grabbing the edges of the bag and hauling it up out of the box, but Kagome had the sneaking feeling that it wasn't fine, and it wasn't okay.
Kagome sat there, watching him as he walked over to the trashcan, pressing on the small lever, and holding the bag and its contents over it.
He stood there for a very long time, clearly torn on what to do, and Kagome walked over beside him as he threw the bag and the papers onto the counter where it slid across the granite in a long line of photos and papers and clippings.
"She's very pretty," was all that Kagome could think to say.
She didn't want to tell him what to do with it, because it was clearly upsetting whatever had happened, and she didn't want to make it worse, since she'd already stepped on some toes. Kagome reached up and lightly put a hand on his shoulder blade.
"I don't even know why I packed the shit," he grumbled, staring at the pile spread across the island as he hands held onto the edge of the counter. Every muscle in him was tense and angry.
"Well, if it means something to you, then you shouldn't throw it away. Don't feel like you have to."
There was a long and desperate pause between them, and Kagome could feel his tenseness and suddenly she felt like she was intruding on something that he needed to work through on her own.
Withdrawing her hand, she took a step away from him.
"I'll—uh—let you finish up, and I'll let myself out." She started to step away, and his hand snapped out and around her wrist.
"Don't."
Her hand reached up to cover his.
"I don't—" His voice drifted off even though his eyes never left the piles of pictures and papers in front of him.
The woman obviously meant something to him once—if not now—and Kagome could tell that there was pain and hurt there. She imagined she looked the same way digging through the belongings that Kouga had left behind. Her face had held the same look of hurt when she'd closed their apartment door the last time.
She knew that feeling of loss and ending.
As she stepped closer to him, his grip on her wrist lessened, and she slid herself just free enough to hold his hand with her own.
"Do you want me to move it some place for you?" She asked.
"No—no, I'll do it. I can do it."
Kagome paused, knowing that she was on a precipice, and she could easily destroy what fledgling friendship she had with him.
"I'm not saying that you can't do it, but what if I did it for you?" She offered. She licked her lips, trying to come up with words that would be helpful and not sound like she was being demeaning or condescending. "Just as a help—as a friend."
Inuyasha's eyes narrowed at the mass of papers before him. Maybe she'd finally overstepped and he was actually upset with her.
"You weren't supposed to see this," he mumbled under his breath, and Kagome patted his arm.
"Well, I only really saw a couple of the photos on top, but maybe we can put them in a box—"
"It's already in a box," he snipped out, still glaring at the papers on the counter. "It broke."
"Oh, well, do you want me to just go finish unpacking what was left, and you can decide what you want to do?"
He didn't answer or make any motion to answer her, and she decided that maybe he just needed a moment alone.
Kagome squeezed his hand before taking a step away towards the box still sitting on the floor. He let her hand slide out of his, and she moved back towards the sitting area. After a long period of silence, he finally slid all the paper together, stacking them back up haphazardly, and wrapping what was left of the bag around them. She watched him, sitting on the floor in front of the box, as he carted the bundle of papers off down the hallway. He was probably heading into a bedroom to put them somewhere safe.
Kagome wondered what had happened to the woman, because that sort of reaction seemed like more than a simple break up. She began pulling out some pillows, which she set in the couch corners.
And that was it. That was the last box.
Inuyasha hadn't reappeared yet, and she wasn't quite sure what to do. She took the boxes over towards the door so that he could take them out to the trash later.
Or maybe they came to get his trash.
In a place like this, she wouldn't be surprised if they just came and grabbed the trash for him.
On a good day, Kagome just hoped that if she threw her trash hard enough from the balcony that she could hit the dumpster without having to carry it down the stairs and all the way across the complex.
She was finishing up the box of cheap trash bags, and she'd sworn that she'd never do that again after her trash bag broke halfway through her journey to Mount Doom, and she'd had to hold the stupid thing together with her hands, and that had felt like she'd never be able to get the smell of trash juice off her fingers for days.
No amount of scented soap could really help with that. So now, she was double bagging her trash to prevent it from breaking open partway through and practically sprinting through the complex to avoid another incident.
If the bag was really light and no one was around, then she reared back and swung it around like a discus and let it fly towards the dumpster.
She usually made it.
Usually.
And sometimes she just sighed and stared at the mess of trash next to the dumpster before begrudgingly heading down to pick it all up.
Kagome looked at the boxes. She could break them down while he was handling whatever it was that he was handling. She could do this. She just needed a knife, or some scissors. Kagome ducked into the kitchen to find something sharp to cut the tape.
He didn't know how it was possible for someone who was dead—and had been for a while—to be able to ruin his day so completely in the span of a few seconds.
He carried the mass of papers and photographs, and he walked back down the long ass hallway towards another small ass pointless room next to the laundry—it was probably meant for storage, but what the fuck did he need storage for when he was moving from a studio into a three bedroom fucking mansion?
Anyway, he nudged the door open with his knee, and stepped inside. Of course, he'd forget about Kikyo's shit.
Why didn't he throw it away?
Why couldn't he just let all this shit go already?
It'd been years.
Years, and he couldn't just shove this shit in the trash and walk away.
His mother was probably right, and he'd probably needed to get some therapy about all this—but too late now.
Shit was over and done with.
He'd just shove all that trauma deep down, and worry about it in a century or so when it could actually do some real damage.
He took a step in, contemplating whether or not to just drop the mass of papers onto the ground. Judging from how well all this shit slid across the counter—like Kikyo was purposefully trying to ruin any chances he had with Kagome right at the start—he should probably set this down halfway gentle—almost like he cared about it. When he stood up, he glared at the pile, resolutely swearing to himself that he would not kick it across the room, because that would not solve any of his current problems.
Reaching for the knob, he hesitated for only a second, taking a deep breath to steady himself and his nerves.
It was why he'd kept all her shit in a box.
Seeing it just—it always made him angry and frustrated, and he had to calm himself before he went back out there.
Just a few deep breaths before he decided to barge out there and yell at Kagome again.
Fuck.
He'd been an asshole.
She was helping him unpack—because he'd asked her too—and he'd just barged in there acting like she'd gone snooping through his underwear drawer.
He needed to apologize. He should. Maybe he could send flowers to her work or something, if he could ever figure out where it was that she worked.
He knew it was across town, but that was about it.
And her boss was apparently a dick.
Because that narrowed it down to like everything and everyone.
Stepping out into the hall with the intent to apologize, he nearly staggered back as the smell of blood struck him.
"Kagome?" He called, darting down the hallway, he burst into the living area, but he didn't see Kagome. There was a blood drop on the floor next to the empty boxes, and he heard water over the thudding of his chest.
"Kagome?" He shouted, sliding into the kitchen to see her at the sink—water running over her hand. "What the fuck did you do?"
He moved behind her, looking over her shoulder as she kept her hand under the water.
"Sorry! The knife slipped, and I don't think that I got blood on your—"
"Doesn't matter," he said, reaching around her to grab her hand and slowly pull it out from the water.
It didn't look bad. It wasn't even deep, probably just one of those cuts in the worst places. It was a bleeder, but she wouldn't need stitches. It wasn't longer than an inch and ran right along the finger.
"Does it hurt?" He asked, reaching over to grab a paper towel.
"It stings," she said, "but it doesn't hurt." She winced as he wrapped the towel around her finger and applied pressure to it.
"If it stings then it hurts," he commented. She twisted her head to look up at him.
"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt-hurt."
He stared down at her, keenly aware that he was wrapped around her and practically pinning her—trapping her against the kitchen counter.
"One day, you'll say something that makes actual sense."
"I'm making perfectly good sense!" She retorted, and he let out a snort as he took her hand and used it to twist her around. "It stings because it's cut, but it doesn't hurt—!" Her voice squeaked as he hoisted her up onto the counter. "Sit here, and I'll be right back."
"But Inuyasha!" She started to slide off when he stepped back, and he pointed a finger at her, and she paused.
"Keep pressure on that finger. I will be right back with—" His brain suddenly processed the fact that he'd grabbed her around the hips—and how pleasantly his fingers had sunk into her flesh—and for whatever reason his mouth was currently watering. "I'll be right back."
She sighed, wrapping her hand around her finger.
He walked back out and down the hallway towards his bedroom.
Fuck.
What was wrong with him?
Just throwing her around like she weighed nothing—which she really didn't—not to him at least.
But he couldn't just go slinging women around his kitchen.
Rubbing his face, he walked into his bathroom, digging around the linen closet to find the small first aid kit that his mother had insisted he have 'just in case.' He'd shoved it somewhere because he'd never need one. And if he did, there was going to be a whole lot more blood than a measly band-aid was going to be able to handle.
Now where the fuck was that damn little ass box?
He shoved stuff around the shelf he was sure he'd seen it on once.
Maybe.
He let out a sound of success when he found the familiar bright ass pink box. His mother told him it would be easier to see in the dark, like he needed the help.
He pulled it out and jogged back into the kitchen, relieved to see Kagome still sitting on the counter. He set the box on the counter, and Kagome looked at it, eyes shifting to his with a raised brow.
"You hush," he quipped, popping open the hinges as she started a slow grin. "My mother bought it."
"Hot pink?"
He took her hand, slowly pushing the other away as he unwrapped the damp paper towel. Bright red blood began welling up and he reached over, opening up a small piece of gauze and a band-aid. He pressed the gauze to the digit, and he wrapped the bandage around the gauze to hold it in place. He unwrapped another, since the cut was long but not deep. He didn't want to risk her bleeding on anything or risk the cutting getting infected.
"Are you going to use up all your band-aids over a little cut?"
"It's just to keep you from bending and reopening it."
She held up her finger in front of her face as she wiggled it back and forth. His hand closed around the wrappers, the hard crackle and crunch of the paper was the only sound in the room.
"What? You want me to kiss it, make it better?" He asked, bracing his arms on the counter on either side of her legs.
He watched the pink spread across her cheeks, growing darker and darker, and it was completely adorable. He watched her as a grin spread over his own face at the expense of her embarrassment.
"Well?" He asked.
"Well, what?" She squeaked out, and he nearly laughed at the panicked look on her face, even though her finger was still up in the air in front of him. His hand slid up her sleeve right up until he reached her wrist, holding her hand steady.
He could hear her swallow, and he gently pressed the bandaged finger against his lips before letting go and leaning away.
Kagome's face was completely red at this point, and he couldn't help but laugh at it.
"Would—Would you stop?" She tugged her hand away and not so lightly pushed his head back, starting to slide off the counter. "Don't laugh at me!"
"Sorry," he stuttered out, trying to stop himself from laughing, but the image of her red and panicked face wouldn't leave him.
He reached up a hand to steady her as her feet hit the floor, and she pushed his hand away.
That sobered him up quickly.
"Hey, Kagome," he started, following her and reaching out for her arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It was just your face, and—"
"I'm not mad," she said, turning towards him. "I was going to get the scissors off the floor and clean up the mess I made."
"Don't worry about that."
"Okay, but let me," she started, and he side stepped in front of her, heading towards where the boxes were.
"I got it."
She huffed, sounding adorably indignant before shuffling off into the kitchen again. He saw the scissors there, and picked them up. There was the barest trace of blood on them, but a good washing would clean those up. They were junk drawer scissors anyway. He was more concerned with Kagome getting tetanus than anything.
Fuck.
Humans got tetanus.
What did he do?
Did he take her to get a shot or a pill or whatever they got? It was a shot, right?
What if she got sick from the cut on her finger?
He should've wiped it with disinfectant.
He didn't ever think of these things because—you know—youkai rarely ever got infections.
It would have to be literal poison to get him sick and even then he'd fare better than a lot of humans and even other youkai.
Kagome walked towards him, and his head twisted up from where he was squatting to see her with a few paper towels and cleaning spray.
Kneeling down beside him, she sprayed the droplets of blood on the ground.
"I'm really sorry," she started.
"Don't be," he said, reaching out for the paper towels only to have her jerk them away. "Accidents happen, right?" He said, throwing her words back at her. "I've got this." He reached out for the paper towels and she stubbornly stuffed them in the other hand, still reaching for the wet area. "Gimme."
"No! I can do it!"
"Like I'm going to let you clean with an injured hand." He wiggled his fingers at her to give him the paper towels.
"It's literally just a bad paper cut." He continued to hold out his hand. "I've cleaned with worse, I promise."
"Give it, Kagome," he ordered, and she huffed as she dove to wipe up the spray and he snagged her wrist, ripping half of the paper towels from her hands and wiping it up himself while still holding her back with the other hand.
"Why won't you let me clean?" She whined, stilling fighting his hold on her wrist.
"Maybe because you just sliced your fucking hand open?"
"It's not even that bad," she continued. "I've had paper cuts that were worse than this!"
"Congrats," Inuyasha answered. "Gimme the rest of the paper towels."
"No! Go get your own!"
"Just give me the damn towels, Kagome." He reached for her hand, and she pushed it farther away from his grasp.
"No! I'll lick them and then they'll be super gross!"
"Why are you being so fucking difficult?" He lunged for the towels again, and this time she spun so that her back faced him, holding out the handful of paper towels away from him.
"I am not!"
"Fucking are too!"
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him, as his much longer arms grabbed the wrist extended as far as it could go in front of her. She wriggled, and tried to pry his arm out from around her waist, but he easily over powered her. His fingers easily slid under her fist, prying the fingers up and releasing trapped paper towels. He let out a shout as he watched them flutter to the ground in front of them.
"Cheater!" Kagome told him, turning her head to look him in the eye.
And suddenly—just like that—he became intimately aware that those leggings of hers hid nothing from the eyes or his own legs. His arms was wrapped around her waist, and they'd both doubled over in their scrimmage.
She was soft.
Softer than anyone had a right to be, in his opinion.
He still held her wrist, and his fingers were flat against her palm, but the others overlapped the narrow joint of her wrist. Her other hand had stopped prying and instead her fingers grazed the back of his hand, sending shivers running rampant through him.
His heart pounded in his chest, and he wondered if she could feel it against her back as she stared at him.
It wouldn't be anything to just—lean in. He could feel her gaze, and he was half sure that she wouldn't mind.
And half was better than—half?—fuck, maybe he was shit at math.
Kagome's fingers started to slide between his, and she moved incrementally towards him, and he took that as permission.
Maybe he should've asked, but fuck—he didn't realize how bad this—whatever it was—was until now.
There was a sharp squeak of skin against tile, and Kagome slipped, her weight dropping like lead and dragging him down with her. His knee crashed into the tile, and he let go of her wrist to keep them both from face planting into the hard tile floor beneath him.
His knee throbbed as it cracked against the tile, and he held Kagome up from the floor. She'd put out her own hands bracing herself for whatever it was worth. He was still holding the majority of her weight.
But fuck him if his knee didn't hurt like a fucker.
"Are you okay?" Kagome asked, shifting her knees under her, and rubbing all the wrong places the right way.
"Fine," he muttered. "You?"
"I'm okay! I'm so sorry!" She twisted away from him, and he let her go. Reluctantly, but it was also probably for the best. He shifted his leg and winced. "Did you hurt your knee? Do you need ice?"
"It's fine. It'll be gone by the time that you get the ice anyway."
"So you are hurt!"
He sighed as he rose to his feet, keeping the grimace in to an absolute minimum.
"We both know that I heal way faster than you will," he said, grabbing her bandaged finger and holding it up. "It's not even hurting anymore."
"Fine," she said with a roll of the eyes and snatched up the paper towels from the ground before wiping them across the last of the wet spots. "If you'd just let me finish cleaning up, this wouldn't have happened you know."
Was she actively trying to start a fight?
"Are you saying this shit was my fault?"
"I was just trying to clean," she said, rising up to her feet and walking over to the trash can. She popped the lid open and tossed the towels inside. "You were just being stubborn."
Oh, this bitch was definitely trying to start a fight.
"Really?" He asked, "I'm not the one—" Inuyasha's voice drifted off as she grinned, darting off through the living room.
Something primal—something that liked the hunt, the chase—pressed him forward, using his speed to catch her before she'd made it halfway down the long hallway, but the same senses were not trained to respond with a sharp smack of a pillow against his cheek and the loud cackling that followed.
"Your face!" She laughed, doubling over and laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall.
Whatever instinct had propelled him forward stuttered to a stop, and he stared at her, an unwanted grin threatening to break out across his face.
Kagome wiped her eyes, still sporadically laughing as she righted herself.
"Alright, sorry," she giggled out. "Come on, give me the full tour!" She wrapped her hands around his, not minding the claws at all, and dragged him farther down the hallway.
She had been laughing at him, but this time, he didn't mind at all.
"You know there ain't shit in half these rooms," he said, following her anyway. He pushed open the door to the laundry room. "Look, bullshit," he said, before dragging her down another hallway that led to the spare bedrooms or whatever they became later. "More bullshit," he said as Kagome giggled behind him. "And the crème de la crème," he said, marching through the empty room and pushing the balcony door open, "look at all that bullshit right there," he said with a wide sweep of the arm towards the city below.
"Oh come on," she said, walking out onto the patio. There was room for a decent sized sitting area.
Maybe he should invest in a fire pit and burn some shit.
It would keep Kagome warm at least.
"I still can't get over how pretty it is out here," she said, wrapping her arms around herself as the lights reflected gently across her skin. "I think I'd stay out here forever if I lived here."
"Then you'd be dead and a dumbass, come on, it's too cold out for you."
She giggled as he dragged her back through the room and shutting the patio door behind her.
"I can survive the cold for more than thirty seconds you know," she commented, and he had to bite his tongue from admitting that he was more than happy to let her use him as a blanket or a body warmer.
First things first, patio furniture.
It was getting later, and Kagome could feel the fatigue already settling in. She needed to go take a shower and prepare a very sad lunch for tomorrow.
Inuyasha was walking her back towards the front and maybe she should use the trip as an way to excuse herself. If she didn't, she'd inevitably stay up too late and then hate herself come tomorrow. And she'd already hate herself enough as it was.
He stopped when he reached the living room, but he didn't let go of her hand, and a part of her hoped that he didn't want to let her go.
Kagome ran her thumb along his hand, feeling the hard bumps of his knuckles, and he looked down at her.
"Thank you for dinner and everything, but I should probably go. It's getting late."
His hand slipped from hers, and she watched him swallow.
"Yeah, sure. I'll walk you down."
He walked over to where her bag was and picked it up, giving her a smug look as she sat down to put on her shoes.
"You're so dumb," she muttered, as he opened the door for her.
But it was nice to think that someone felt like she was worth waiting on.
The ride down to the parking garage was quiet, and Inuyasha leaned back against the railing beside her.
When the door opened, they both walked out towards her car. It was the only obvious eyesore in the entire garage. And it was especially obvious next to Inuyasha's, which was still worth probably more money than she could ever hope to see at one time in her entire life.
Kagome paused by her car, and Inuyasha relinquished his hold on her bag, handing it off to her.
"Well, I'm glad that we got your boxes all unpacked," Kagome said, slowly running her thumb over the bumps and valleys of her keys.
This was it.
She had no real reason to invite herself over without seeming like she was looking for something else.
Maybe she was, but he seemed to have some mixed emotions, and seeing and hearing what had happened, she couldn't blame him.
And she wasn't going to be the one to force him to do something that made him uncomfortable.
"Yeah," he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Right. She should go. He was just being polite and waiting for her to leave so he could go inside and relax in his officially finished apartment.
"Well, I guess, I'll head out then," she said, taking a slow step back towards her car. "Have a good night!"
Turning away from him, she reached for the door handle, and a hand slapped her door closed as if she'd actually had time to open it.
"I need pillows!" He blurted out, and Kagome watched his face slowly start to redden. "I mean, I need to get—stuff."
"Stuff?" She asked, turning to lean back against her door. His hand was still planted against it as if she was going to try to escape at any second.
"My couch is shit."
"It's not that bad."
"It's shit. I want a new one."
"Oookay?" Kagome said raising an eyebrow at his statement. What was up with him?
"Help me," he said, mouth opening for a split second and then snapping shut.
"I don't follow?" His face revealed nothing except a flurry of emotions that she didn't have time to place.
"Look, I'm shit at picking out furniture. Come with me."
"You want—me—to help you pick out—furniture?"
"I mean, you see what I wound up with. So help me pick out something that isn't shitty."
"Hate to break it to you, but all my furniture is shitty too."
He hesitated. She wasn't lying, but most of her furniture was old Ikea knockoffs that had been moved several times and were starting to show their wear. Her bed was making a lot of groaning noises and she was just waiting for the day when the sideboards just snapped in half.
It would probably happen while she was sleeping.
But it wasn't like she could afford to buy all new furniture at the moment.
"Well, if we both like it, then I won't get it."
At first, Kagome didn't know what to do with that information, but a laugh burst out of her as her hand covered her mouth quickly.
"Okay," she agreed.
"Okay?" He questioned, ears flicking as a smile spread out slowly across his face. "Okay."
Kagome nodded.
"Uh, how about Friday?" She asked.
"Sounds like a da—plan. A plan. Sounds like a plan."
She gave him a small nod, staring up at his face. He slowly pulled his hand away from the door of her car.
"I'll wear comfy shoes."
"I'll drive you home."
"Okay," she repeated with a smile and a nod. "I'll see you on Friday then."
He nodded, standing in her space for just a second longer than necessary before he took a hasty step backwards.
"Yeah," he said, backing away from her. She opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. "Text me when you get home!" He called after her.
She leaned out to look back at him, and pink that had started to disappear was now on full display.
Pretty sure she also saw him mutter "Fuck" under her breath.
"Worried about me?" She asked him.
"You do fall down a lot."
"That was one time!"
"Here," he corrected, and she glared at him, which only made him grin.
"I'm leaving!" Inuyasha stepped out of her way, and she shut the door before starting up her car and throwing it into reverse.
He gave her a small wave, which she returned, and then focused on the road home.
When Kagome walked into her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and wandered into her bedroom to drop off her bags.
9:03pm
Kagome: I'm home! Have a good night!
It was on a few seconds later that her phone pinged.
Handsome Asshole: Goodnight Kagome.
Kagome smiled at the message.
Kagome: Goodnight Inuyasha! ?
She set the phone down, taking a deep breath as she started to unpack her dress clothes and hang them up. She shook her clothes out, attempting to get out the wrinkles before hanging them in the closet.
Her feet were aching, and she was excited to grab a quick shower and just shut down for the night.
Dragging herself into the bedroom, she turned on the hot water, ducking out to grab her pajamas and some clean underwear.
It suddenly felt like something passed through the room making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Making a quick glance over her shoulder, she swore it felt like someone stood in the corner of her room, watching her. The feel of eyes on her back would only feel more tangible if there was a finger running up her spine.
But there was no one else here. No one else was in her room, even if the apartment didn't feel empty.
There was a lingering moment where she paused, and then clutching her underwear to her chest, she walked out to her front door and made sure that it was locked. Jiggling the handle and checking the deadbolts, the door was secure, and she should've felt safer, but—the locked door didn't help the feelings of unease that were swirling around her.
She slipped back into the bathroom, stripped quickly, and climbed into the shower.
The shower was clinically quick. Her nerves kept growing, and the bandaged finger finally grew in irritation that she just ripped off the bandages and scrubbed at her scalp, trying her best to keep the soap off her cut, but there was only so much to be done.
When she was done, she climbed out, hair wrapped in a towel, listening to the floor creak under her weight as it always did as she dried off and dressed before digging out her own band-aids and beginning to rewrap her finger.
She really just wanted to climb into her bed, and try to feel like there wasn't someone else in her home.
Some TV would help settle her nerves. Put on a good romcom and just laugh whatever was lingering in the back of her head out and off into the wind.
Tossing the wrappers into her trash, she ran a quick brush through her hair, and then quickly crossed the squeaking floors to her bedroom, and she crawled into her bed, leaving the lamp on, and turning on the television.
She found something that looked relatively light hearted and possibly funny and tried to soothe her agitated nerves.
The closer that it got to time for her to go to sleep though, she felt slightly better, but her entire apartment still felt off.
She reached for her phone to text Inuyasha, to give her brain something to focus on, and seek some comfort through conversation, but she stopped herself.
It was late, normal people were asleep at this time, and she was a strong independent woman—well, she was at least two out of three of those things—and she could handle this on her own. She could shrug off whatever emotions that she was feeling and just deal with it like a big girl.
Even if she slept with her phone in her hands all night long.
When her alarm went off, Kagome briefly wondered how much she really needed to go to work today.
She needed the paycheck. She needed every paycheck.
She also needed the overtime.
She was a few hundred dollars in the hole this month after the gas station incident and then having to withdraw even more money afterwards.
She—in short—was effectually broke.
So she really needed to go into work today.
But her body protested at every turn and every move that she made.
Sleep had eluded her for most of the night, and every single strange sound or tap or click in the apartment—and there were always plenty as the building settled—jolted her out of a solid sleep. She felt pretty sure that she'd seen every single hour across the entire night.
There was no saving today; she just needed to focus on how to get back here and into her pajamas as quickly as she possibly could.
Maybe she'd cook some noodles, and eat in bed while she watched some TV and drank from the wine bottle with one of those really long straws.
How was it six in the morning and she already felt like she needed a nap?
Digging through her closet, she found something that would be semi-comfortable and still fit the dress code. Sliding on a pair of heels, she quickly darted out of the apartment, locking the door behind it—jiggling the handle just to be sure—and heading for the train station. It was too late for her to make it with traffic, but she'd still have some time if she took the train. It was just a little bit of a walk, and she did what she could to make the walk from her apartment, down the stairs and four blocks over to the train station.
Standing in the train, she held onto the handle, checking her phone for any messages, when fingers very firmly grazed the back of her thigh. Spinning on her heel, she glared at every man standing within slapping range.
There was one man who was rubbing his fingers together and refused to look at her face. His eyes would slide over and stop just short of meeting her face.
Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step into the doorway, backing up against the little plastic divider.
Another reason to take the car to work, if only she could afford the gas for it every day.
Stashing her phone back into her bag, she decided that she'd have to be more vigilant this ride—and probably every ride at this point—so that she didn't wind up with some pervert copping a feel or snapping a picture of her underwear.
The day could really only get better at this point.
Spoiler Alert: Her day did not get better.
Her boss seemed to almost take delight in sending her on every task that was humanly possible while flirting with her at every opportunity.
She was halfway through copying the latest round of docs that needed to be collated, stapled in three places, and hole punched when her phone dinged for the hundredth time that hour.
Why stapled and hole punched?
But the machine did not like this job, and it kept jamming, forcing her to crawl down and undo the entire fucking machine each time it beeped at her.
She felt pretty sure the "Beep-beep-beep" was going to haunt her dreams for years. No doubt about it.
Kneeling down, she tore out the final piece of paper, slid the innards of the machine back into place, and then closed the doors, waiting to rise back to her feet.
When the machine started running paper, she waited a moment before pulling herself back up.
Her phone chimed, and she groaned. If either one of her bosses texted her and called her 'baby' or 'sweet cheeks' again, she would scream and commit some sort of assault.
Handsome Asshole: How's the finger?
Kagome couldn't help but smile at the text.
Kagome: It's fine! Pretty sure your top-tier nursing skills were the only thing saving it from amputation.
There was a long wait as the three little dots disappeared and reappeared, and she waited for something to appear on the screen.
Beep beep beep!
Kagome sighed out a long groan, staring at the stupid little screen with its stupid little message about the stupid little doors.
"Bet I could help you make that sound again," Hiten said, coming up behind her, making her jump.
Kagome bit her tongue at the fact that she was making that sound because of his stupid little weird-ass request for stapling and hole-punching.
It was so close to the end of the day, and she just didn't have the capacity to endure his little quips. She was already at the end of her patience for today.
She just wanted to go home, eat the lunch that she hadn't had an opportunity to eat yet, because she'd been too busy doing stupid shit and messing with a shitty copier that she was honestly ready to just Office Space that son of a bitch right into that big office equipment heaven in the sky.
Probably a good thing she didn't have a bat when she was starving.
Her phone chimed, and she inwardly groaned. Of course it would go off, and it probably wasn't anyone from the office, so now she was going to get a lecture about answering personal calls on personal time, even though the biggest offender of that rule was standing right in front of her.
Not that she hadn't already brought up the time he'd shown her a map and asked how to get to a hotel to meet his Tinder date for 'brunch' and then asked if she wanted to join them for a 'threesome brunch outing.'
And then subsequently disappeared for the entire afternoon after she very politely declined his offer.
Nope, she'd been reprimanded for 'encouraging improper behavior during office hours.'
Whatever. It was fine. She was only here because she needed the money.
And she needed the overtime.
And she was on copy number 16 out of 22. She was over halfway done. She could do this.
She was Kagome Higurashi. She could survive an awkward workplace interaction while hungry.
She could do this.
"Who's texting you?" Hiten asked, standing up on tiptoes to look over her shoulder at her phone.
Kagome took a deep breath.
He just had little man syndrome. That's it.
"Just a friend. I'm not answering it."
"Well, what if I was texting you?" Hiten said, leaning against the machine as she pulled open the doors, shoving them open farther than necessary so that they forced him to take a step back as she knelt down to fix the dumb ass machine once again—and probably not for the last time.
"I'd probably answer it."
She didn't have to look up to see the grin on his face.
"Good to know you have your priorities straight," he commented with a slight sniff.
Maybe he was coming down with the man-flu and would need to be out for a few days—or weeks—she honestly hoped that he took a few months to recover and, you know, really find himself during that time.
She'd take anything at this point.
Finagling the machine to give up the ghost and the random sheet of paper it had decided to attempt to eat, she finally looked up at Hiten who merely stood there, watching her.
"Can I help you with something?" She asked, running her wrist across the exact gear she was trying to avoid because it was covered with toner and grease.
Probably not the things that were supposed to be out in the open in a copier.
"Oh, just checking on our status here," he tapped the stack of papers lightly. "Just wanted to make sure we'd have them ready by the end of the day."
"I'm doing my best, sir. The machine just hasn't been cooperating."
"Yeah, this model doesn't always like hole punches and staples in the same job order," he commented, and then flashed her a smile. "Did I ever tell you that I really like that shirt?"
"Thank you?"
He leaned down, eyes drifting down below her face.
"I expect those copies on my desk before you leave," he said lowly before rising up to walk out of the copier room.
Eyes narrowing at his departure, she took a deep breath and glanced down at herself.
Fuck. She could see her bra, and he could too probably.
That was probably why he stood right there for so long.
She reached to adjust her shirt and caught the very large black smudge across her hand.
Great, she couldn't even fix her shirt.
It wasn't even that low cut, and if this stupid machine was breaking down, then she wouldn't even have to kneel down or bend over to fix it.
Pulling the sheet of paper free, she slammed the machine shut and listened to the hum as it started back up.
Only 5 more copies to go.
It was well after six before Kagome could even consider going home.
She stepped outside the building, and stared at the wall of water coming down off the building.
Of course.
Of course it would be pouring rain.
Kagome let out a long sigh as she tucked her purse under her arm. She'd played this game before. It just hadn't been raining this hard though. She'd just wait until the light changed at the crosswalk, and then run for it.
She stared at the sign, as she got close enough to the wall of water that it spritzed her legs as she stood there waiting.
Once the light turned green, she tried to run, but it was more like a very quick trot across the street. Hurrying hadn't done a bit of good for her, because the moment she stepped out, the wall of water soaked her completely.
It was fine. She'd just hang this up to dry. At least her bag had stayed dry. She wiped the water off the side of it.
Well, at least the inside had stayed dry. That's what mattered most.
She flicked her hair and wiped the water out of her face. She dragged in a deep breath to attempt to meditate herself back into a place that was within sight of something zen-like.
Home was really her only option for finding any sort of comfort and relief from the day.
She stood at the platform watching the trains pass before hers finally showed up. Dragging herself through the crowd, she boarded and a few moments later, the train lurched and then started off.
Letting out a small sigh, she leaned against the bar and let her eyes drift close for just a moment.
There was a ding as the train pulled into the station and the usual announcement as the doors slid open and people milled in and out, and Kagome just tried to stay out of the way as much as she possibly could.
The train doors closed, and then nothing. They opened again, and closed, and then the train just stayed exactly where it had been.
It moved forward a few feet and then stopped again.
At that point the subtle vibrations under her feet stalled and died.
An official came on and said that it wouldn't be too much longer before they had the train moving and there was a small issue up ahead, but that they were already working on clearing the track so they could move.
Fine.
It was fine.
An hour later, it was still not fine.
Kagome finally found herself being escorted off the train and told that there was something wrong with the train that she was on and they were rerouting passengers to another station that was only a mile walk or so.
In a complete and torrential downpour.
Several people were complaining and calling people or walking up the stairs to head towards the next closest station.
The thought of walking to the next closest station felt like a way to torture herself. She was already soaked, and her feet were throbbing, and she was starving.
Kagome just really, really wanted to take a shower, curl up in her blankets, and cry away the day. Preferably with pizza.
It was taking everything in her to pull herself together enough to answer her phone as it rang and she picked it up and answered, noting it was Inuyasha on the screen.
"Hello?" She asked, wiping her face with already damp fingers.
"Shit, I didn't mean to call. I was trying to text you, but well, shit. Hope I didn't interrupt something."
"No," her voice sounded thick even to her, and she sniffled away from the phone to try and hide just how close to tears she was.
There was a long pause.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," but even she knew that she sounded like everything was two seconds away from falling apart completely.
"Kagome, what's wrong?" Inuyasha pressed, sounding stern.
"Everything?" She took a deep breath to calm herself and stop the onslaught of tears. It worked for about two seconds.
"What's wrong?" He pressed again, sounding concerned.
Great. She'd done the absolute opposite of what she'd wanted.
No sense in dragging him down on her sinking ship for the day.
"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." She swallowed down a lump in her throat, and she took another deep breath.
"Where are you?"
"At the train station," she started, and then it clicked. "No, really, it's fine. You don't have to—"
"Which station?"
"No, you don't have—"
"Which—Station," he repeated, emphasizing each word, and she hesitated in telling him. She didn't want him to see her at her absolute lowest and think that she wasn't adult enough to figure out how to take care of herself on a bad day. "Kagome, I swear," he started, and she quickly blurted out the small station name.
"But please, you don't have to do anything."
"Shut up, I'll be there in fifteen."
"No, Inuyasha, don't," she whined. "I just have to walk to another station. It's fine."
"Kagome," he said, firmly, and she could hear the ding of the elevator as the doors opened. "I'm already getting in my car, so there's no point in arguing. I'll be there in fifteen. So just shut up and wait for me to get there."
He hung up, and Kagome sighed, staring at the blank phone screen.
This was great, absolutely great. He was going to show up and realize just how hot of a mess she really was.
But there was a small part of her that warmed just a bit that he was willing to drop whatever and come get her. It felt nice not to be chastised for needing help.
Kouga would've griped and grumbled about having to come get her. One time her heel had snapped off, and she'd asked him to come get her so she didn't have limp home on the train, he'd complained the entire trip home that she should've brought another pair of shoes with her and been prepared like a real adult.
She wandered up to the street level, hugging close to the doors. It was a small station and literally had a lobby just large enough for a small group that was waiting to swipe their cards.
Kagome gripped the straps of her bag in her hands, waiting for the sight of Inuyasha's car.
Her phone rang, and she quickly fumbled through the pocket to dig it out.
"Hello?"
"Fuck, there's not anywhere to pull up where you can stay dry," he said. "I didn't think it would rain harder."
"It's okay, I'm pretty soaked already."
"Ah, shit, hold on" he mumbled, "okay, yeah, I'm as close to the doors as I can get."
She glanced out the doors and saw the familiar white car just a few yards from the entrance.
"Are you sure? I'm going to be pretty wet. I don't want to mess anything up."
"It's just water. It'll dry. Just hurry up and get in."
He hung up, and she shoved her phone back into it's pocket before darting back out into the torrential downpour.
Lightning lit up the sky as she opened the door, and she yelped, diving inside.
Her hair was plastered to her face, and the temperature had dropped several degrees since she'd last stepped foot in it.
Inuyasha handed her a giant towel and she wrapped it around herself as she leaned back as he pulled away from the curb.
It was quiet as she sniffled from the chill and attempted to wring her hair as dry as it was going to get, while trying to keep the towel around her and warm up on her way home.
He tapped a few buttons on the console and her seat warmed underneath her.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"So, what happened? Sounded like you were having a shit day."
"Yeah," her eyes grew warm, and her vision blurred incrementally. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.
"Just a bunch of little things. My boss was being rude, and I forgot to grab breakfast on the way out the door. I thought I had a granola bar in my purse, but I guess I ate it at some point," she sniffled, feeling the hotness behind her eyes increase. "Then my boss wanted copies and the stupid machine kept jamming and it took me forever to get them done, and I had to get them done because he needed them tonight for something, so I missed lunch to get them done, and then the stupid train got jammed or whatever, but they waited an hour to tell us, and—"
It was at that moment that she realized that she'd blabbered off all the stupid asinine things that were really stupid and small things. It had been a bad day, and here she was about to break down and cry over all of it to Inuyasha of all people.
"And then it was raining," she whined, burying her face into the towel. "And I left my lunch in the fridge at work!"
"Ah, okay, fuck—fuckfuckfuck, shit," he muttered, and a warm hand gently rubbed between her shoulder blades as she tried—totally unsuccessfully—to not break down and completely cry it out in Inuyasha's very nice car.
He'd pulled into his parking garage without thinking better of it.
She'd been in tears in his car, and all he could think of was taking her to his place where he could make sure that she got everything that she needed.
She hadn't eaten? He could feed her.
She needed a shower? He had fucking three to offer her.
Her clothes were wet? She could wear his.
She could wear his—his clothes.
Kagome wearing his clothes. Fuck if that didn't goad and prod at something deep down.
Focus!
He knew that he could provide for her here, and so that's where he'd taken her.
But judging from the way that she was looking at him in confusion, he'd probably made a bad decision. Well, his dick had made a bad decision as it usually did.
Not that he wanted her that way—well, he did. But not right now. That was not his intention.
Ah, fuck. She was staring. He needed an excuse. Something.
"My place," he said, pointing to the elevator, and she stared at him almost blankly.
Good job talking like a fucking caveman.
"It's closer?" He said, trying to hide the wince, but it probably looked more like a grimace at this point.
When she said nothing, he practically dove out of the car, to rush around the side and open her door before she thought he was completely insane and no longer capable of normal semi-educated speech.
She looked up at him.
"I have food," he stated, holding his hand out to her. She looked at his hand and then up at him, and he wondered if he'd fucked up. "And a shower, and clothes," he continued, but Kagome slowly put her hand in his, and he took a deep breath and the rambling ceased.
He was an idiot, but she seemed to be okay with it, letting him pull her to her feet.
There was a small wince that passed over her face as she stood, and he noted that her heels were ridiculously high for someone who was required to run errands for her boss so much.
"Come on," he said, picking up her bag, shutting his door, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders to guide her towards the elevator.
The ride up was quiet—especially since he remembered to put the fucking bypass key in this time, and Kagome turned into him a bit, even as she held the towel closed around her white shirt.
He hadn't thought about that when he'd grabbed the towel, but he was infinitely glad that he'd snatched it on the way out. He'd have given her the shirt off his back, if she'd needed it.
Wasn't like he got that cold that easily.
She still sniffled, and he didn't know what else to offer her.
The doors binged and opened, and they walked out together in quiet and into his apartment.
He watched her kick off her shoes, wincing at the redness around her toes.
Clutching the towel tighter around her, she took a deep breath, and he set her bag down before placing a hand at her back and guiding her down the hallway towards his bathroom.
He tried to ignore her limping and how she was clearly trying to not put pressure on parts of her feet.
He ushered her into the bathroom, and she stopped walking as he went over and turned on the shower.
"Give it a second to heat up. I'll grab you a change of clothes. We can toss your clothes into the dryer if you want, or you can wear mine home." He chanced a glance back at her as he headed towards his closet. She was looking around his bathroom, running her fingers along the counter, but her stare lingered mostly on the bathtub.
Shit.
Maybe she wanted a bath.
Naked Kagome.
Long term Naked Kagome.
The notion that she was going to be naked in his apartment—bathing in his home—made his chest tight.
She felt safe with him.
Nope, stop. Bad dog.
He was taking care of her when she needed someone. She chose him.
Stay down, he warned himself. At least until he could leave the bathroom. He didn't need his dick acting like a Kagome detector.
Yes, she was pretty, but seriously, sit, boy.
He hadn't really given her a choice in what she wanted. Maybe she didn't want his old clothes, but she had to wear something.
Well, she didn't have to—shit—fuck—stay downstaydownstaydown.
He dug through a drawer before finding a long sleeved shirt and a pair of old sweatpants that would offer the most amount of skin coverage. He knew that they'd probably be too big for her, but he also kinda wanted them to be?
It was ultimately a selfish act, and he knew it.
Naked Kagome.
"Fucking hell," he whispered to himself and absolutely no one else.
His dick really needed to grasp the concept of inappropriate.
He walked out, setting the change of clothes on the counter.
"You good?" He asked her, drawing her attention back to him. "You need anything else?"
"No," she whispered with a shake of her head. "This is more than enough."
He wanted to say something poetic—something that would woo her into staying—the night—forever—he didn't care, but something that would tell her how much he liked her and wanted to be near her.
Instead, "Oh shit, towels," came out of his mouth like he was Shakespeare's dimwitted brother.
Rubbing his face, he dug out a couple clean towels, because while he wouldn't mind her using his and rubbing herself all over with his scent—oh God, stay down, idiot—clean towels at least made it look like he wasn't some weird youkai pervert.
His mother had taught him better.
Or at least tried to.
There's only so much one could do against instincts.
"Okay, there," he said, awkwardly patting the towels now on the counter. "If you need anything, you can just—uh—yell."
"Thanks," she whispered, and he gave her a quick nod and stepped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him and taking a deep breath.
It was hard enough dealing with whatever was rampaging through him at the moment, but it was going to be fine, she was safe here.
He stood there, listening to the water pattern change as she stepped inside. He wasn't going to just stand there and listen to her shower like a weirdo.
But it was the quiet weeping that made his ears flatten back and a low whine escape before he could slap a hand over his mouth to stifle it.
She was unhappy.
And he didn't know what do to fix it.
He knew that she'd had a bad day, and sometimes people wanted to cry it out. It was normal. It was a normal thing that people did. But it didn't mean that he had to like it.
Food.
He had food.
She hadn't eaten, and he could feed her.
That was a fixable thing that he could do.
Dragging himself away, he kept his ears flattened as he shuffled towards the kitchen to dig out food for her to eat.
There were still meals from yesterday that he could heat for her and have ready for her once she emerged from her shower.
He wasn't going to rush her.
He'd let her take her time, relax, and hopefully she'd feel better—safer—when she was done.
Kagome reached up and turned the shower off.
The hot water had been consistently hot. No weird spurts of water through the pipes, just a consistent firm spray of water that was hot and soothing.
Inuyasha's kindness was indescribable.
He'd gone out of his way to pick her up, allowed her to shower at his place, let her borrow a change of clothes.
In a life that seemed to only find the shittiest people imaginable, finding someone like Inuyasha was heartbreakingly refreshing, which was why she was currently trying to cry quietly in his shower while the water was running, and so he couldn't hear her.
She didn't want him to think that it was his fault or anything.
Wiping her face with the hot stream of water, she collected herself and started washing, taking care to scrub the black smears off her arm from where the toner had run in the rain.
She didn't spend long in the shower, even though the temptation to stand under the hot water for an hour to relieve her muscles was significant. His casual, middle-of-the-handle-twist hot water was hotter than hers ever got.
Maybe he'd let her shower here more often.
But once she was significantly clean and toweled off, she walked out and stared at the clothes that he'd set out for her. They felt soft under her fingers, and she slipped her underwear on—her bra was a lost cause. For whatever reason, her bra seemed to soak in whatever water landed on her shirt.
She didn't see a hair dryer and so she toweled her hair of the excess as much as she could before using his brush to run through her hair again.
Hopefully, he wouldn't mind too much.
Taking the sleeve of her blouse, she quickly scrubbed it with some hand soap, getting out what was left of the toner.
Satisfied that her hair wasn't dripping wet any longer, she stepped out heading towards the sitting area, holding her damp clothes against her arm.
But not before she stared longing at the giant bathtub that called to her with its siren song.
"Maybe next time," she whispered, running her fingers along the edge of the tub. It was big enough for her to sleep in.
Or for two people.
Stop it! Bad Kagome!
Her damp clothes reminded her that she needed to put them somewhere.
Maybe he had a plastic bag that she could put them in. She really didn't want to take up any more of his time or kindness than was necessary.
He was already looking for her when she entered the living room.
"You wanna dry those?" He asked, and she hesitated. Because she did, but didn't want to seem like she was taking advantage. She knew that it was a small thing, but he'd already done so much.
"Uh, yeah?" She said, and he placed a hand on her back, guiding her back down the hallway to a door just at the end and pushed it open.
The room was probably the size of her bedroom.
It housed a washer and dryer on pedestals—no more breaking her back trying to dig out her clothes in her top loading stacked washer, and probably room for twin bed on the other side.
What did someone need with all this space in here? Calisthenics?
"Here," Inuyasha said, holding the door open for her, and she quickly just chunked her clothes in there, bra and all.
Inuyasha set the door and pushed a couple of buttons that chimed pleasantly and then a low rumble as the machine started.
It took her a couple seconds to realize the dryer was actually running and not just heating up before sounding like a jet engine was drying her clothes.
Usually, she had to wedge her body into her washer to dig out whatever clothes were in there in the dark closet, and then she had to climb a ladder to get them into the dryer from where it was partially suspended from the ceiling and the wall. The issue was that her top loading washer and then the stacked dryer were not the same brand or model so they didn't quite match. It was probably one of many hazards in her apartment, but she was currently stuck, so there wasn't much that she could do about it.
Inuyasha ushered her outside, closing the door behind him.
Oh right, the noise probably bothered him and he probably didn't have to worry about the dryer starting a fire. Hers sometimes smoked if she dried anything higher than the delicate setting for more than twenty minutes.
She followed him down the hallway back into the kitchen. Her feet were still aching, and she honestly just wanted to sit down for a bit and not be on them.
"Here," he said, motioning to the barstool in front of her, and she eagerly took a seat. "Because I know you're going to bitch about it, take your pick of leftovers."
He set out four boxes for her to choose from.
"Really, it's—"
"You said that you hadn't eaten anything all day, so you're gonna fucking eat something before you leave. So either you pick or I do."
Kagome sighed.
"You got three seconds," he warned.
"Inuyasha," she whined. "It's fine, really,"
"Two," he started, already reaching towards the box that had probably the most food, and Kagome panicked, grabbing the box closest to her. Something that looked vaguely like beef.
Satisfied, Inuyasha grabbed her box and started putting it into a pan on the stove.
"You can't cook!" She shouted, and he glanced over his shoulder at her, with a scowl.
"Who said I can't cook?"
"No, that's not what I meant! I meant just shove it in the microwave."
Inuyasha made a face.
"That makes everything taste like rubber," he said.
"Then at least let me do it!" She rose from her seat, feet already protesting, and he shot her a glare and pointed the spatula at her.
"You sit the fuck down," he growled, and she flopped back into her seat.
"Can I at least get plates and silverware?"
He motioned to the side where she could see a plate with a fork and knife stacked on top. Satisfied with the way things were going, he put a lid over the pan and then put the boxes away into the fridge before walking over to her and putting a bottle of water in front of her.
"You're not eating?" She asked.
"I already ate," he said.
"So you're just—" She looked at the pan of food that he was making—just for her—and felt the heat flood the backs of her eyes. "You're just—" Her eyes drifted up to him, as he turned towards her wide-eyed, and then she burst into tears. Again.
"Kagome?" He asked, and a warm hand rested on her shoulder.
"Why are you so nice?" She whined, covering her face with her hands as she tried to wipe away the mess on her face.
"Trust me, I'm not nice."
"But you are!" She wiped her eyes with the edge of her palm.
He scoffed as his hand rubbed between her shoulder blades.
"Come on, stop your blubbering," he said, rubbing her back.
"I'm not blubbering," she whimpered, wiping her face with the cuffs of her shirt. Well, his shirt. The sleeves were long enough to drape over the ends of her fingers and she'd already had to roll and cuff the sleeves a bit to make them fit. "Sorry. I'll wash this and bring it back."
"You don't gotta," he said, clearing his throat viciously afterwards. "Oh fuck, dinner!"
He darted back to the stove and quickly shut it off, before plating her food.
He quickly set it down in front of her, sliding her silverware over her.
She stared at the massive amount of food in front of her.
"You sure you don't want some of this?" She asked him, already cutting into the steak.
"I told you I ate earlier. Don't worry about me today."
She slowly slid the fork between her lips as he leaned onto the counter.
"So I should worry about you tomorrow?"
"That's not what I said and you know it." He pointed a finger in her direction, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Dunno, sounds exactly like what you said."
"Eat your dinner, Kagome."
Kagome shifted her foot so that it rested on the bar and immediately regretted it. Even just sitting there, her legs and feet were throbbing mercilessly.
She ate quietly as Inuyasha washed and dried the dishes.
"So what'd you think?" He asked, as she finished off the last bite.
"It was really good! Thank you." She rose up to take the plate to the sink to wash it, but he was already waving her on.
"Go sit on my shitty couch," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"I can wash—!" The noise she made standing on her feet was not dignified, and Inuyasha only glowered at her.
"Go sit down. It's one fucking plate, and it's going into the fucking dishwasher. I'm pretty sure I can handle it."
"But," she started, only to stop when he glared at her and pointed at the couch like she was five years old.
Limping over to the couch, she sat down, already feeling the relief from her aching feet. She'd never really brought a change of shoes because her commute usually wasn't that long, and it just seemed like a lot of extra stuff to carry, and honestly, she was afraid that she'd get called out for it, because Hiten and Maten always seemed to find something for her to do on her way out the door.
It wasn't a great place to work, but they paid her well enough that she could start to recover from the financial devastation she'd been left in.
Shifting a bit, she curled up so that her feet weren't touching anything—and the sheer relief to not have any pressure on them at all was a tangible thing.
She dreaded having to change and put them back on. She actually dreaded having to put her clothes back on at all. Her body had already moved onto "daytime pajama" mode, and it was going to be highly unhappy when she forced it back into a bra and out into public.
Inuyasha sat down beside her.
"Gimme," he said, holding out his hands.
"What?" She asked, looking at herself and then the couch. Was she sitting on the remote or something? Looking back at him, she hoped for some clarification as to what he wanted from her exactly, but he only sighed heavily and gave her an exasperated look.
"Your feet," he said, and she only tucked them up firmer underneath her.
"What? No! I'm not giving you my feet!"
"Like I haven't touched them before, Kagome."
"That's not the point!"
"So what is the point?" He asked, still holding his hand out. "Ain't like I'm going to do something weird."
"Weird like what?"
Inuyasha made a face.
"I dunno, lick them or something?" He asked, and she burst out into a fit of giggles, because the thought of Inuyasha leaning down and just licking the bare soles of her feet was hilarious after the day that she'd had. "I can tell that you're sore, so just stretch out. It'll feel better if you get them elevated anyway."
Kagome eyed him for just a moment, trying to gauge how serious he was. He just wanted her to lounge her legs across him and he wouldn't care at all?
"Fine," he said, reaching over and grabbing a pillow and shoving it in his lap, "is that less weird?"
And he's over here acting like she's the weird one.
She slowly uncurled her legs, feeling the ache in her calves as she stretched them out and shifted to lean back against the arm of the couch and place her very tender legs and feet across the pillow. She didn't want to admit that Inuyasha had been right, but there was a certain amount of relief.
"You good?" He asked, and she nodded, slumping down in the seat.
Inuyasha reached over, grabbing the remote and flicking on the television that was a long as she was tall, she was sure of it. He flipped to something, and she turned her gaze towards it.
His arms draped over her legs, and she was infinitely glad that she had on sweats that covered the fact that she'd opted out of shaving her legs for the past couple of days.
It wasn't bad, but there was definitely stubble.
Kagome felt a thumb very gingerly press into the ball of her foot as fingers wrapped around the top. Her eyes darted up to his as the pressure increased and a soft rolling motion was added.
Was he—?
The moan that threatened to come out as this thumb ran the length of her arch was thankfully strangled back, but only just barely.
Pretty sure something squeaked out anyway.
His thumb ran the across the ball of her foot once again, and while it ached, it also felt really, really good.
Her eyes flicked up to his. He was watching her.
"Not weird?" He asked.
"Not as long as you do the other one too."
He grinned, eyes flicking back to the television.
"Maybe I've got a left foot only fetish."
She barked out a laugh, which morphed quickly into a half-groan and half-moan as he put more pressure and rubbed a particularly tender spot in her foot. She draped her arm over her face.
Inuyasha was just over here giving her a foot rub like it was no big deal.
She raised her arm to look at him, but his attention had flittered back to the show that was playing on the television.
Why was he doing this? Did he—did he expect something from her?
She didn't think so. He didn't seem the type to ask for a quid pro quo.
And why was she questioning his kindness? Why did she immediately assume the worst of everyone? She hadn't ever done that before.
But the soft reality was that Kouga wouldn't have even considered doing this for her. Not without an extreme payment in return.
But that had been it, hadn't it? The entirety of their relationship together had been a quid pro quo. If he did something nice, she was expected to reciprocate with something that he wanted from her. The notion that I did something for you, now you do something for me.
And the really sad part, was that she'd been okay with it. She would've gone on with it forever if he'd asked her to.
But he'd made the call to end things too.
In the end though, that was probably for the best.
But he'd left her in tatters, hadn't he?
Taken her home, her financial stability, and apparently, her ability to accept kindness from anyone without wondering what they wanted.
Inuyasha had moved onto her other foot, and she couldn't even look at him without feeling guilty.
Her eyes burned, and she clenched them tightly to avoid him seeing them.
She was not going to cry over what Kouga did—again. She was not going to cry in front of Inuyasha—again—for the second—or was it third?— time tonight. She wasn't.
"Is that hurting you? Why didn't you say something?" Both his hands dropped her foot, and she shook her head, taking in a deep breath to calm herself.
"It's not you." Her voice was thick and watery, and it sounded at the very least like she was two breaths away from tears.
"So what is it?"
"You're—" The battle against the tears was a lost one, and the only thing she could do now was try to minimize the casualties. "You're just really nice!" The end of her statement came out whiny and high-pitched.
"You're crying because I'm really nice?"
"Yes!"
She covered her face with both of her hands as she suppressed every single sob that threatened to break out of her.
He let out a snort, and she dragged her hands down enough to glare at him, but he was already looking back at the television, and his hands had returned to rubbing her foot.
"And you said I was weird," he muttered.
"I'm not weird!"
"Sure," he drawled out, rolling his eyes, and she nudged his knee with the foot not currently being massaged by his hands. "Hey, you're gonna undo all my hard work if you keep that up."
He reached down and grabbed her foot, tugging it back up to the pillow where he wrapped his arm around it to keep it in place.
She couldn't help but laugh at him, but he continued, gently holding her leg with his arm.
"You really are too nice to me though," she said after a long moment, and he just scoffed.
"Don't be an idiot," he muttered, eyes darting to look at her and then away to stare at the screen.
A/N: It be-eth my birthday week, so I decided to finish this little bit and post it here for you (since it has been a ridiculously long time that we've heard from these two pining idiots). I hope you enjoyed it, and all the romantic fumblings these two are having. 😁😁