The foyer was a whirlwind of activity, a combination of silk and sugar, as the wedding party made a mad dash to put the final touches on outfits, boutonnieres, and the buffet. For once, Kagome was glad not to be a part of it. The hotel she worked at held events like these almost daily, and while being a front desk agent came with a slew of responsibilities, this week, it didn't include overseeing the banquet area.

As it was, most of the rooms had been rented out to the bridal party, so it didn't make much of a difference, but she was happy to stand off to the side while everyone else ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Her manager had put her in charge of a single task: the wedding cake.

The bride was more on the traditional side, so several tiers were involved, all covered in ivory icing and brightly coloured flowers. It looked sturdy enough, but Kagome kept a close eye on it on the off chance one of the ring-bearers decided to taste it early. All the children involved were adorable, but they were all very skilled in evading their guardians, as an adult would come up to the front desk every ten minutes asking if they'd seen a specific child.

No one was worried that they'd escaped out the front door—Kagome was keeping a firm eye on that, too—but the children had begun a game of hide-and-seek to keep themselves busy and took their role of hiding very seriously.

"Is the buffet all set up?" Kyoko asked, blowing a rogue curl out of her hair while she reviewed the guest list for the fourth time.

"The warmers are ready," Kagome replied. "All we're waiting for is the reception to begin to bring out the food."

Kyoko nodded, switching to the wedding planner's detailed schedule and ticking off a few more items. "You couldn't pay me to get married," she muttered.

Kagome chuckled. "Maybe you just haven't found the right person yet." Kyoko hadn't decided which gender she liked more, often switching it up each time a relationship fizzled out. When she was with a woman, she'd sworn off men; when she was with a man, she'd sworn off women. The only time it bothered Kagome was when she was dating someone with an ambiguous name, and she couldn't tell which side of the coin Kyoko was currently on.

At least she kept work interesting, providing Kagome with raunchy stories whenever they had a slow shift. Kyoko had this weird thing with trying to embarrass her. She'd been single for as long as Kyoko had known her, finally admitting to the woman it went all the way back to high school, and Kyoko was determined to find Kagome's breaking point. She gazed at the cake, a faraway look in her eyes.

"You're doing it again," Kyoko said, still looking at the schedule.

"Doing what?" Kagome asked.

Sliding her pen behind one ear, Kyoko's hands went to her hips. "Either that cake professed its undying love for you, or you're in need of a sugar fix."

She blushed, her lip caught between her teeth. "It's a nice cake." Kyoko's foot tapped against the floor, waiting for her to elaborate. "What? It is!"

"You haven't been staring at the rest of the desserts," she accused.

"They're made by someone else," Kagome mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Uncaring of the possibility of an audience, Kyoko smacked her arm. "You bitch! You've been holding out on me!"

"I'm not holding anything!" Kyoko looked like she was about to stab her with her pen, and she relented. "Alright, fine." She looked around, making sure they were, in fact, alone. "I might know the baker."

"And?"

"And what? That's it."

Kyoko groaned. "That is not it! I make little brochures all the time, and you don't stare at them like you're about to ask it for its first child. Spill."

A few of the children raced past the front desk, getting precariously close to the table with the cake, and Kagome reached over to steady it. "That's as far as it goes, unfortunately."

"Because you're a coward," Kyoko supplied. "Is this cake the same reason you've never had a real date in your teen and adult life?"

Kagome ducked her head. "Maybe." She took full blame for it, but it wasn't her fault. How was she supposed to look at anyone else when the definition of perfection was working down the street? "But it's more complicated than that. He's my best friend's brother."

Kyoko gasped. "Seriously? Why have you never said anything? This is name-brand tea. Was it love at first sight?"

No, he tried to melt me. "Not really. I was helping my best friend with an important project that took up all my time. We didn't see each other much during high school."

"But he must've done something to capture your attention!" she pressed.

She was crowding her now, green eyes unblinking, and Kagome played with her keycard. One of the reasons they got along so much was that Kyoko's father was a foreigner, just like Kagome. It was the reason for her green eyes and lighter hair—and her complete lack of personal space. "He saved me a couple of times. And looked after me when I was hurt."

Kyoko groaned. "You're not helping your case here, Kags. He sounds like a knight in shining armour! Why haven't you made a move yet?"

"It's not like that. He barely knows I exist. It was out of duty."

"I reiterate my earlier point about him being a knight." Kyoko gave her a droll look, and Kagome couldn't help but laugh. The last thing anyone would refer to Sesshoumaru as was a knight. Aside from her, anyway. But that was primarily due to fantasies and daydreams. "You should call him."

Kagome blanched. "Not on your life."

"This isn't about my life. It's about yours. Your love life and how it's completely nonexistent!" She grabbed Kagome's shoulders and shook her. "I need some tea now and then! I'm tired of my own brew! I beg of you, call him and ask him out."

Kagome vehemently shook her head, and it was at that moment the children dashed past the cake table again, bumping into the corner. She turned too late, the legs giving out, and she grabbed the very top one, preventing a complete catastrophe. The older child started yelling, the younger bursting into tears and bringing a slew of adults running.

Holding onto the top layer, Kagome set it carefully on the front desk. "Is anyone hurt?" The children shook their heads, though the younger one was still sniffling. "No harm done then. We can get one of the caterers to fix up the cake and—"

Kyoko elbowed her in the ribs. "We should get it fixed at the source, don't you think?" she said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "There's still time before the cake-cutting." And just like that, Kagome found herself carrying several boxes down the street.