Archive of Our Own

When he was young, his mother told him that he was capable of anything he set his mind to. She was a wonderful mother, kind, loving, and fun. 

Which made it almost possible to forgive her for being a filthy liar. 

Inuyasha collapsed face-first on his bed, wondering if it was possible to smother himself if he just didn't bother turning his head. Sure, he was young and supposedly still had things to live for. Being dead would definitely ensure that he missed the cruise that his parents were sending him and his friends on to celebrate their first year of college. But when he thought of the inevitable embarrassment that awaited him on that trip, he figured it would be a better option to die and send along a portrait draped in black crepe streamers. 

Giving in to the need for oxygen, he rolled onto his side but refused to open his eyes. Why was this so hard? Summer break was in just a few days, and he still hadn't managed to ask Kagome out. Which was pathetic since he had been making attempts for a year.

Psyching himself up for two.

Fighting it for....gods, he really didn't want to go there. 

And today? Today had been a fine example of why he was one step away from putting lipstick on his right hand and calling it quits. He had planned on asking her out on a casual date at lunch. Smooth. Suave. A one-eighty from his usual personality. Instead, he had watched as she approached the table in a short little skirt and a sleeveless shirt that did things to him, and the line he had spent three hours rehearsing the night before abandoned him to his subpar improv devices. It had been cool in the room, and he had noticed her skin had pricked up in gooseflesh. 

“You should leave” had been the first words that left his mouth, and he had wanted to beat his own head in with his lunch tray at the look of hurt that had flashed across her eyes. 

“Yes, I think Hojo was looking for you,” Miroku piped up, watching his friend going under with all of the grace of a cat at the deep end of a swimming pool. 

For once, Inuyasha was thankful for the letch and vowed that he would go a full week without threatening to tear his favorite hand from his arm. 

At Miroku’s words, Kagome’s expression had cleared, before morphing into a hunted look, her eyes darting about for the toothpaste commercial escapee. The airhead just couldn't get the hint that Kagome wasn't interested, and she couldn't quite bring herself to hurt his feelings by actually saying no. 

“Oh. I thought he had left already. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and take this up to my room,” she said, scuttling over to return her tray, looking like a very cute raccoon as she juggled her food on the way out the door.

On the way out the door.

Without him getting a chance to ask her out.

The most embarrassing part? This was becoming a regular thing. 

“Inuyasha! Your mother didn’t put the food on the table as decoration!” His father bellowed from downstairs.

Inuyasha flopped to his back with a groan. Was it too much to be left alone to die of acute misery?

Briefly, he debated yelling back that he wasn't hungry, but that would raise too many questions. His mother might leave him in peace, but his father would want to be ‘helpful.’ It was the same type of ‘helpful’ as a retriever bringing you a slobber-drenched stick; absolutely useless but done with such earnest devotion that there was nothing you could do but reach out and take the disgusting offering.

Once downstairs, he found everyone already seated at the table, including Sesshomaru, who, for some reason or another, ended up here for dinner more often than not. He slunk over to his seat, muttering a halfhearted greeting. His mom shot him a concerned look but merely began spooning food onto his plate. His father, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, sensing that something was off. To throw him off the track, Inuyasha sent a glare in Sesshomaru’s direction, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see his dad’s face clear; the brothers were constantly getting under one another’s skin.

Sesshomaru, who had been slicing his meat into precise, bite-sized pieces, said without looking up from his plate, “Failed to get Kagome to go out with you again, I see.”

Inuyasha threw his chopsticks down, ready to lunge across the table. His hand was already braced to launch himself, but at his dad’s growl, he sank back into his seat, flashing his fangs at Sesshomaru. 

“Oh, honey,” his mom said, leaning toward him in concern. 

“She didn’t turn me down!” He said defensively. 

“Only because you probably weren't even able to ask,” Sesshomaru pointed out. “Dinner is delicious, Izayoi.”

Inuyasha glared. Fucker always talked trash about humans, but he noticed that the creep sucked up to his mom more than his own. 

“Son, is that true? Do you need some help?”

“I believe the evidence speaks for itself,” Sesshomaru cut in. 

“Now, let’s let Inuyasha handle it. I’m sure he’ll be able to when the time is right,” his mother said, trying to head a fight off at the pass. 

He wanted to protest that it wasn't about the timing. It was about the disconnect between his brain and his mouth. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but as soon as he was face to face with her--or voice to voice, as evidenced by one disastrous call--and his brain turned to hot pudding and leaked from his ears. 

Wait.

He did fine as long as she wasn't around....

So what if he wasn't around? He always did well on his papers during school, and some teachers even said he showed some talent. How hard could it be to put everything he felt down on paper? There wasn't even a minimum word requirement, plagiarism wasn't an issue, and he didn’t have to look up sources. Hell, he could probably get it done this evening!

“Izzy, honey, is he doing an internal monologue again? It looks like he’s doing an internal monologue,” Touga whispered to his wife, watching with growing concern as Inuyasha’s right eyebrow twitched, a clear sign that there was trouble. 

“Inuyasha, you have your fist in your rice bowl,” Izayoi said gently, wishing that whatever inspiration had struck had done so in a less messy way.

“Huh?” Inuyasha glanced down at his hand for several moments before finally realizing it was attached to the rest of him. “Crap. Oh well, I’m not hungry. Gotta go back upstairs and do somethin’--see you at breakfast!”

Before anyone could stop him, he had bounded away, his footsteps echoing up the stairs until they were cut off by the slam of a door. 

“This isn't going to end well, is it,” Touga stated more than asked, and Izayoi shook her head in resignation. 

“No. But it will be entertaining,” Sesshomaru said, planning on being there for front-row seats. 

Inuyasha threw himself in front of his laptop and opened a document. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, flexing slightly as he tried to think of a good opening sentence. He needed a hook. That was a thing, right? To get her attention. He frowned. Nothing was coming to him. Maybe he should just write the rest and come back to the beginning later; someone had told him that moving on to the next part was the best thing you could do when you were blocked. 

Except he couldn't think of a good middle, either.

His arms dropped to his sides with a groan. He had all of these feelings, but putting them down in a way that made sense was harder than he thought. Still, this was his best bet, and he wasn't going to give up. He couldn't be the only one with this problem. A quick trip to Google for a little research, and he was sure that there were at least twenty guides and lists of ideas that would be perfect for what he needed--or, at the very least, would send him in the right direction. 

Six hours and several rabbit holes later, Inuyasha had a thorough understanding of the founding of Sweden, had learned that Chinchillas could only have dry baths, and figured he could make at least the simpler recipes of sugar candy if he were so inclined. None of which helped him with what he needed to write but left him feeling oddly productive. With a small growl, he clicked out of a YouTube video about hedgehogs and tried to focus on the project at hand. 

Slowly, the words began to come together on the screen. Inuyasha muttered under his breath, repeating some of the earlier confession attempts he had rehearsed. His fingers began to move faster, and he ignored the slight cramp that developed from holding them in a way that wouldn't have his claws chipping the keys. Another hour passed, and he found he had developed a new problem-- he had no idea how to stop. 

He began to grow nervous. If he gave her a small novel, didn't that just make him sound like a stalker? He sat back and eyed the page count dubiously. While everything he had written had been true, maybe he should just stick with the highlights. 

Editing took even longer than writing. Cutting out a sentence or two here and there forced him to make other changes for everything to make sense. It felt as if he were stitching Frankenstein’s monster together, and could only hope the result wouldn't be quite as gruesome. Or burnable.

The sun was well over the horizon when he felt mostly satisfied with the result. Eyes blurry, it took several attempts to hit the right buttons to get it to print--he had debated writing it out but figured it defeated the purpose if she couldn't decipher his handwriting--and he had to search several drawers for a working pen to sign his name. Surprisingly, he had an envelope thanks to his mother getting him some stationary last year to write thank you cards for his graduation gifts. He folded the letter, set it on his desk, and was prepared to crawl into bed for some much-needed sleep.

He had just buried his head under his pillow when his door was rudely slammed open. He let out a growl, not bothering to look—he knew exactly who it was by the smell of aftershave alone.

“Don’t worry, Sleeping Beauty. I have no intention of waking you with a kiss,” Miroku said with amusement, skillfully dodging the mug that had been snatched off the bedside table and whipped in his direction. 

“What are you even doing here?” Inuyasha groaned, pushing himself up against the headboard.

“Picking your ass up to haul it to class?” Miroku answered, his expression puzzled. “Just like I do every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Unless you're skipping today after that disaster with Kagome.”

Inuyasha stood up and began stumbling around the room, scooping up what he would need for the day and stuffing it into his backpack. “I’ll have you know, I’ve finally solved the Kagome problem,” he said, proud that he had figured out a solution by himself. 

Miroku leaned against the wall, his eyebrow raised. He had known Inuyasha long enough to predict that this had the potential outcome similar to that of tossing a molotov cocktail into an overflowing dumpster. 

“What exactly did you come up with?” He said slowly, hoping he would be able to perform damage control before they were trapped together on a ship. Those rooms were small, and he didn't need it filled with a cloud of angst. 

Inuyasha gestured to the red envelope on the desk. “You know I can never get the right words out of my mouth when she’s around. I figured if I just took my mouth out of the equation, it would be fine.”

That....actually wasn't a bad idea, Miroku admitted to himself, cocking his head thoughtfully. It even had a bit of romance to it--who could resist the old-fashioned charm of a love letter? Something she could read over and over again and treasure as a keepsake. Yes, for once, Inuyasha may have actually struck upon a good idea. 

“Not bad. I take it that’s why you have the trendy panda look?” Miroku asked, drawing attention to the dark circles under Inuyasha’s eyes. 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure it was perfect,” Inuyasha muttered, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. “C’mon, you're gonna make us late,” he added, brushing past Miroku and jogging down the stairs.

Miroku glared after him, irritated. He had been out front waiting for twenty minutes before he came in! He was about to make that very point when he noticed that Inuyasha had forgotten the letter for Kagome. He shook his head. Either he was so excited that it slipped his mind, or he had chickened out. Either way wouldn't do, and Miroku decided he would do the kind thing and speed this along. He went over to the desk and grabbed the envelope, stuffing it into the inside of his jacket pocket before heading back down to his car.

Inuyasha could owe him later.

Inuyasha made it through his classes by the skin of his teeth. He had tried to sneak a nap, but every time he started to drift off, he would make eye contact with the professor and would have to jerk himself up to pretend he was actually paying attention. Kagome hadn’t been around at lunch, although he had lingered in the cafeteria for as long as he could before slinking out, the one possible bright spot in his day ruined. He wondered if it had anything to do with his stupid comment the day before, but Sango assured him that Kagome was just really busy. While he was too pessimistic to believe her fully, he hoped that Kagome wasn't going to stay mad at him; he never knew what to do when she was upset. 

By the end of the day, he wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed for the next eighteen hours. He slouched against the car, eyes closed as he waited for Miroku, who was probably still slobbering over Sango. Something he wouldn't have minded if Kagome had been there--he would drool discreetly rather than slobber--and he tried not to resent the fact that Miroku, of all people, had a more stable love life than he did. 

“Sorry, I meant to give you the key,” Miroku apologized as he squeezed between two cars that had decided to see who could park as close to the line as possible. 

Inuyasha shrugged, tossing his bag in before dropping into the seat with a thud. “Standin’ for a few minutes isn't gonna kill me,” he said, brushing off the apology. “If you wanna make it up to me, swing through a drive-thru. As soon as I get home, the only thing I wanna do is sleep.”

Miroku pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes flicking to the passenger seat before focusing on traffic. “Really? I thought you would be more excited to see Kagome’s reaction to your romantic outpouring,” he said, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips. 

“Romantic outpouring?” Inuyasha snorted. 

“Eh. Sounds better than heart vomit,” Miroku returned with a philosophical shrug. 

“Doesn't matter either way. I haven't given it to her yet. I’ve been thinkin’ about it, and it definitely needs more work,” Inuyasha said, shuddering at some of the things he remembered typing. 

A heavy silence fell in the car, and Miroku fought a shiver as cold chills raced along his spine. “You....weren’t going to give that to her today?” He asked, his voice hollow.

Inuyasha, still in his cocoon of blissful ignorance, answered, “Nah, I think it'll be a day or two before I have somethin’ decent.”

“.....Oh.”

It was only one word, but it had Inyuasha’s eyes jerking to the side so hard that they nearly popped out of the sockets. That was a familiar ‘oh.’ It was the ‘oh’ of a thousand mistakes, each one of which had left an indelible scar on Inuyasha’s psyche. 

“What the hell have you done?” He asked, his words starting to bleed into a growl.

Miroku kept his eyes firmly ahead--he believed in facing death only if it was absolutely unavoidable. “I was just trying to help! So I took the envelope when I saw that you left it behind-”

“Miroku, you put that thing back where it came from, or so help me--”

“Ah. There is a slight problem with that.”

Inuyasha brought a hand down heavily on Miroku’s shoulder; he was pretty sure he would survive the resulting car crash if he ripped the man’s arm off, but he still retained enough decency to think of the passengers in the cars around them. “Are you fucking telling me you gave it to her?” He roared.

“Of course not. You saw for yourself that Kagome wasn’t around.”

Inuyasha slumped back into his seat, his heart rate starting to return to normal. “Fine. Then you can just-”

“I gave it to Sango to give to Kagome.”

“Damn it, Miroku! Turn this pile of scrap metal around!”

Miroku was tempted to say that he was pretty sure it was too late, but he decided to pass this little hot-headed potato to Sango. Of the two of them, she was the most likely to be able to knock Inuyasha out until he cooled off. 

“Shit. Shit . There’s a chance Sango hasn't seen her, right? Lie to me and tell me there’s a fuckin’ chance,” Inuyasha moaned, leaning forward as if he could push the car along with the momentum. 

“Even if she has, surely it’s not that big of a deal. Even if it isn’t perfectly polished, I’m sure it still gets the message across,” Miroku tried to soothe him, wondering if that was foam gathering at the corner of Inuyasha’s mouth or a trick of the light. 

Inuyasha began popping his knuckles, a sure sign he was stressed. “You don’t understand. I was cruisin’ on an adrenaline high from a good idea, and then by the end, I was almost cross-eyed from lack of sleep. By that point, tellin’ her I wanted to suck on her toes would have seemed like a good idea!”

Miroku flinched at the thought. “Please, tell me you didn't--”

“Of course not!” Inuyasha spat. “But I ain’t gonna make this shit situation worse by tellin’ you what I did write!”

Miroku supposed he should be thankful for small favors.

Inuyasha was already opening the door before the car came to a complete stop. “Okay. This will be fine. Just call Sango, find out where she is, and I can run to her before anything happens.”

Deciding it might be best to keep the car in between him while he imparted more bad news, Miroku forced a smile. “Well, that is an excellent plan. Except for the fact that Sango’s battery went dead right before we left.”

A flare of youki sent Inuyasha’s hair swirling, and Miroku crouched slightly, wondering if maybe he should have just sent Inuyasha off in a random direction while he made his escape.

“Can you at least be useful enough by tellin’ me where she might be?”

“I’m pretty sure she was going to go to the gym,” Miroku said, sure of no such thing but figuring it would at least be a good start. 

Without even answering, Inuyasha darted in that direction, leaving Miroku to follow him at a slower lope. Luckily, he was in good shape; even if he couldn’t keep up if Inuyasha decided to go full out, he would be able to catch up before too much damage was done. A flash of black and pink caught the corner of his eye, and he yelled for Inuyasha. 

“Wait! I saw her going this way!”

Inuyasha spun around abruptly, sending people stumbling left and right to keep from running into him. “How can you see her through all these people?” He asked in frustration, craning his neck to see.

“It was only a glimpse--”

“You stopped me for a glimpse?” 

“Of her ass.”

“What the hell are we waitin’ for, then?” Inuyasha snapped, prodding Miroku to start moving. 

“Why didn’t I just take online courses?” Miroku muttered to himself, threading himself through the crowd, working his way to the spot where he had last seen Sango. “She was right over th--”

“SAAAAANGO!”

“Or, we could just scream. Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Sango’s face showed briefly over the crowd as she bounced up to see where they were. Inuyasha pushed his way toward her, Miroku following in his wake.

“What's wrong? I thought you already left,” Sango said with a frown, concerned by their strained expressions.

“Please tell me you didn’t give that letter to Kagome,” Inuyasha begged, scanning her body as if she might have taped it to herself. 

Sango looked at Miroku, puzzled when he only shrugged. “I did; why? Miroku said you had planned to give it to her.”

How was it that less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been so proud of himself for coming up with this idea, and now all he wanted to do was invent a time machine so he could go back and beat himself unconscious before he could go through with it? On the other hand, it was Miroku’s fault, so why shouldn't he be the one to suffer? 

“That was more of a rough draft. Someone decided to be helpful.”

Having been on the receiving end of some of Miroku’s ‘helpfulness’ before, Sango made a sympathetic grimace. “Well, you may still be in time. She didn’t read it right away--she put it in her bag. She’s at the gym since she said she wanted to work off some frustration.”

Inuyasha swayed on the spot. The last hour had been a roller coaster ride of hope and despair, and he wasn't sure how many more build-ups and plunges he could take. 

“Fine. All I have to do is make sure she’s still workin’ out and get my hands on the bag.”

“Inuyasha, that’s mail tampering. I’m pretty sure that’s a federal offense.”

“So is murder, which is what I’ll be up for if I don't get that letter back,” Inuyasha sneered, showing Miroku a quick flex of his claws.

“On the other hand,” Miroku backpedaled quickly, “There was no stamp on it, so surely that doesn't count. It’ll be an easy job--in and out.”

“I’ll go with you in case you need me to get into the women’s locker room,” Sango volunteered, leaving unsaid the fact that she felt like some sort of adult supervision was required. 

He hasn't even considered that possibility. The last thing he needed was to be known as the campus pervert.

And not in the affectionate way Miroku (pre-Sango) was.

“Fine. We could use that skill set, but you gotta move fast,” Inuyasha said, already spinning around to face the direction of the gym.

“Have we just become a live-action D&D game?” Miroku mused, falling in beside Sango as they jogged after the trailing stream of white hair that was about the only visible portion of Inuyasha.

“If we have, I know which one of us is the berserker,” Sango said, nodding to where Inuyasha was plowing through the crowd.

“Do you think he’ll bother to use a door or just go straight through the wall?” Miroku asked, only mildly disturbed to realize that he wasn't completely joking. 

Sango picked up the pace, her eyes widening at the realization that Inuyasha was not only fully capable of doing so but actually might in his current frenzy. 

Fortunately, for the structural integrity of the gym, Inuyasha saw something that made him realize that going in wouldn't be necessary. A large, familiar yellow backpack and the tip of a black ponytail were just disappearing around the corner of the building, and Inuyasha corrected his course to catch up. 

Eyes focused on the bag, he reached out to grab it, belatedly realizing that he couldn't just yank it open and start tearing through it like a cocaine-addled raccoon. Shit. He needed an excuse--anything! And he had to make it fast because she was turning, and any minute, he was going to come face to face with the wide blue eyes of--

“What the fuck!” He screeched, backpedaling away.

“So you're not here to confess your undying love?” Kouga said with a small smirk. “Have to say, I’m pretty disappointed.”

“Not half as fuckin’ disappointed as I am! What the hell are you doin’ with Kagome’s bag?” Inuyasha glared, his body unconsciously slipping into position in case he had to fight for it. 

Kouga rolled his eyes. “I’m takin’ it to her; what does it look like?” Before Inuyasha could reply, he snapped, “She forgot it in the gym, and Manten is in today, which means he has control over the lost and found. Do you really want that freak pawin’ through Kagome’s stuff?”

At that, Inuyasha relaxed a bit, although he made a face at the thought of that creeper--honestly, Kagome probably wouldn't even want her stuff back when he got through with it.

“Fine. Decent of you. Now gimme the bag, and I’ll take it to Kagome,” Inuyasha grumbled, opening and closing his hand demandingly. 

“Seriously? I’m just gonna give it back. It isn't that big of a deal,” Kouga said, more than a little surprised by how forceful Inuyasha was being. Weren't they past this?

“Oh, yeah. Get in good with her by returnin’ her bag, right?” Inuyasha sneered, knowing he was way too amped but unable to care--he was so close to that letter!

“I think the ‘fetching master’s belongings’ is more your shtick than mine.”

“Kouga,” Miroku huffed, he and Sango finally cutting through the cluster of people to get to Inuyasha’s side, “Just please, for the love of all that is holy, give him the damn bag.”

“That bad, huh?” Kouga asked in amusement, shrugging the backpack from his shoulders. 

“Oh, shove it. You can't blame me after the way you sniffed after her,” Inuyasha complained, feeling his face redden.

That comment caused Kouga’s eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. “That was two years ago!”

“Yeah, well, maybe you were just waitin’ for the right time to strike,” Inuyasha jerked the backpack away, clutching it tightly. 

“Oh, like you're doin’?” Kouga shook his head, then turned to the saner members of the group. “Me an’ the boys had considered taking a shot every time he flubbed it up with her, but we decided that drunk before noon isn't really a good look.”

“Probably wouldn't be a good idea to damage your one shared brain cell,” Inuyasha commented, aware that he sounded like he was pouting and hating it. “Can we just go now?”

From behind him, Sango mouthed to Kouga, ‘We’ll explain later.’

Interesting. While Kouga enjoyed riling Inuyasha up--no one else on campus had the balls to hold their own against him--he realized that the hanyou wasn't just being his usual irritated self this time. Only Kagome could spark this type of response, and he figured that Kagome would prefer he made a move while she was still young.

“I gotta get to work, anyway. Catch ya when you're in a better mood,” he said, turning without waiting for a response, flicking a wave over his shoulder. 

Sango eyed Inuyasha uneasily. If she didn't know better, judging by Inuyasha’s behavior, the bag was stuffed with drugs, and he was desperate for a hit. She didn't relish the idea of being the bearer of bad news, but she knew she had to say something. 

“Inuyasha, there’s a slight problem,” she said, bracing herself for the angry barking.

His reaction, if anything, was worse.

His features smoothed into a blank mask before an angelic smile spread across his face, his eyes soft and sparkling. “Of course, there is, Sango,” he said, his voice calm but tight. “How the absolute fuck could there be anything else? Something going smooth for me? Something to do with Kagome finally going right?” 

The mad, jagged cackle he released had people stopping to stare, then hurrying away.

“What’s the problem? Tell me. Clearly, I haven't suffered enough.”

“This isn't what I meant--Kagome didn't put it in her backpack; she put it in her purse.”

“We still have a chance!” Miroku spoke up, really not wanting to have to clean up the mental breakdown that Inuyasha was rapidly speeding toward. “We can take this to her house and--”

“And you two can distract her while I break in and steal it from her purse!”

Sango and Miroku exchanged a look. 

“That....that’s breaking and entering, but right now, I feel like you're capable of worse, so let’s go with that,” Miroku finally said. 

All of this meant another mad dash back to the car, which left the humans more than a little winded. Inuyasha, on the other hand, was still thrumming with nervous energy, and he caused the whole car to vibrate softly as Miroku drove as quickly as was safe to Kagome’s. 

Arriving at the shrine, Inuyasha sent the other two up the front way (neither happy with the number of stairs) while he darted in a different direction through the trees, coming to land on the roof outside of Kagome’s window. It had been a while since he entered that way, but he was happy to see that the window had been left open a bit. 

He waited until he heard voices coming from the front of the house; Kagome hadn’t been in her room, so he was hopeful they could keep her busy. He wasn't sure if she had fixed the sharp squeak in the window, so rather than try to raise it higher, he stuck his head and arms in first, shimmying the rest of his body in until he dropped to the floor. He paused. Nothing happened, and wanting to avoid footsteps giving him away, he used his forearms and the tips of his toes to slither across the floor over to her desk.

Slink. Slank. Slunk. 

Once he reached the desk, he rose up to his knees, spying the small bag on top. It was out of reach, and he would have to stand, but he figured he was pretty much home safe. His fingers closed around the black leather, and his other hand reached for the zipper.

“Can I help you find something?”

Inuyasha yelped like a kicked pup, jumping up so sharply that he almost threw his back out. 

“Ah! Kagome! Hey!” He laughed awkwardly as if he hadn't snuck into her room like some sort of panty thief. Thank fuck her purse hadn't been on her dresser. “You're, um, here.”

Kagome remained in the doorway, an amused smile on her face as she leaned against the doorjamb. “Yes. Here. Where I live.”

“You're....probably wondering why I dropped in,” he faltered, still having no idea what to say next. 

“Not half as much as wondering why you chose to come in through the window rather than the door along with everyone else.”

“Nostalgia?” He tried weakly, angling his body so she couldn't see him setting the purse back on the desk.

“Oh. I guess it has been a while, hasn't it?” Kagome answered with a nod, entering the room.

Inuyasha forced himself not to slump in relief. “Yeah, I was thinkin’ that just the other day, so when the chance came up...” he rambled, trying to add enough to his story to make it sound halfway plausible.

“And here I thought it had something to do with that letter.”

His mouth flopped open before snapping shut at her giggle. “That was mean, Kagome.”

“Sorry. I couldn't resist.”

He ran a hand through his bangs, coming to the conclusion that no damage control could fix this. “Look, I’m really sorry, okay? I tried--well, that doesn't matter. Could I have it back? I didn't mean to give that to you.”

Kagome’s face did something strange; there was an odd ripple, and once it had passed, the smile she had been wearing wasn't quite right. 

“Oh.” She gave a sharp laugh. “Well, of course not. I knew that. Don't worry; I’ll take care of it.”

Her words made him blink in surprise; he had been expecting some sort of reaction, but this flatness.....was that okay? Something seemed off, but he wasn't sure what it could be. All he knew was that he had gone to great lengths to try to avoid an embarrassing situation, and it was turning out that it may have only been a big deal in his head. 

“You should probably go now,” Kagome pointed out. “You can either go downstairs or back out the way you came.”

“Huh?” He came out of his daze, barely catching what she was saying. 

“Remember the time you broke my bike, and I threw everything on my desk at you until you left?” Kagome said, still with that strange smile. 

“Yeah?” That had been one of his less-than-stellar moments--an accident, but he had added to it by saying the wrong thing. 

“How nostalgic are you feeling?”

“Less and less as time passes,” he said, deciding a speedy exit was in his best interest for some reason. “Sorry about all that--see you tomorrow!”

No longer worried about the noise, he jerked the window open wider, noting that, of course, it had been fixed. He hopped out, following the same path he had taken up from the car. Sango and Miroku were both there, waiting with tense expressions.

“Somehow, she could tell you were up there,” Sango answered his questioning look. 

“We thought it would be best to be ready for a quick getaway,” Miroku added. 

“Well? Were you able to get it, or was it too late?”

Inuyasha settled into the seat, glancing back toward the shrine with a thoughtful expression. “It’s hard to tell, but Kagome didn't have much to say about it, so I guess it’s fine,” he said reluctantly. 

Miroku caught Sango’s eye in the rearview mirror. Both felt a cold chill at his words; with Inuyasha’s track record, the odds of everything being fine were astronomically low. Still, he was calm, and neither of them wanted to be the one to rock the boat.

It was a quiet drive as Miroku dropped off first Sango and then Inuyasha. He didn't bother getting out of the car, but he rolled down his window to speak. “Are you sure you shouldn't have just let the letter speak for itself?”

Inuyasha shook his head, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Nah. I’ll fix it and give her the right one next time. Kagome deserves better.”

Miroku was fully aware of the fact that what Kagome wanted was Inuyasha, but after several years of trying, knew it would be like talking to a brick wall. So with a sigh, he merely nodded, rolled up his window, and turned his car around, hoping that whatever Inuyasha had said hadn’t done anything that would damage his already limited progress. 

The house was empty, a fact for which Inuyasha was grateful; he was able to fix himself a quick meal and escape to his room for the night without having to face his family. Although he hadn't voiced his concerns to Sango or Miroku, he had to admit to himself that he was feeling uneasy. There had been something so....strained about Kagome. She was normally one to speak her mind, and it felt unnatural to think that she was hiding something. Had she read the letter? Had she been put off by something he wrote? 

With determination, he sped through the last of the homework he would need to hand in, then turned his attention back to the draft of the letter he had saved. Maybe if he went back over it with a clearer head, he would be able to find where he messed up. He could fix it, and in a day, or maybe two, he could give her the improved version. 

Except he underestimated his need for sleep.

This time, he woke up at his desk, a burning pain in his neck. A glance at the clock told him he had slept well into the morning. Luckily, this was a day he didn't have to be in until noon, and because of their schedules, it wasn't a day that Miroku was supposed to pick him up. Feeling a little gross after sleeping in his clothes for the second night, he took a shower, the hot water relaxing the muscles that had tensed up from sitting at his desk. Once he was done, he felt more alert and put together than he had the day before and thought that at least today was off to a better start. 

A thought that lasted right up to the second he was spun around and punched in the gut as crossed the campus.

“Wha--” he coughed, partially doubled over. It had been a solid punch, but he was mostly suffering from shock. 

“As if you have to ask!” Sango hissed, grabbing the hair close to the back of his head and yanking him up. “How could you do that to Kagome?”

Inuyasha pushed aside the nausea and tried to focus his blurry vision on Sango.

“What do you mean, what I did to Kagome? I didn't do anything to her!” He tried to defend himself.

Sango glared at him, her features twisted in disgust. “Don't give me that. I talked to her earlier, and she told me everything--that the letter wasn't for her!”

What? Had she hit him in the head instead of the stomach? Because that didn't make any sense at all. 

“It wasn't the right one--I already told you that!” He wheezed. 

Sango let go of him and crossed her arms. “Yeah? Well, that’s not how you explained things to Kagome. She’s heartbroken, you son of a bitch!”

Briefly, Inuyasha thought about telling her she must have mistaken him for his brother, but the murderous gleam in her eye told him that she was already prepared to put him in the ground as it was. 

“How can she be heartbroken? She said she understood!”

Sango contemplated him for several long moments. His ears were laid flat, but the expression in his golden eyes was one of earnest confusion. She sighed. He wasn't stupid--she had seen his grades--he was just...an idiot. 

“What you said and what Kagome understood were two completely different things. She thinks you want to get back with Kikyo and that the letter was for her.”

“Kikyo?!” Inuyasha screeched, his voice hitting a pitch that would make a boy’s choir soprano green with envy. “What the hell! What the fuck! Sango, What the fucking hell!”

“Yes,” she said blandly. “That about sums it up.”

Inuyasha’s vision went unfocused. How could Kagome even think that? It hadn't been his best moment, but still...of course, he had never talked about it much with Kagome. About a year ago, he had gotten the bright idea that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, so he tried his best to get over her instead. Kikyo had been in his ethics class. She was pretty, but quiet, feeling lost and more than a little overwhelmed by her move to the city. They had started talking in class, and he had finally asked her out, surprised more than anything when she said yes. Three incredibly awkward dates later, they had tried to salvage the faltering relationship with a kiss. They had leaned in, eyes closed.....and after a few moments of no contact, both had cracked their eyes open to find that the other person had sucked their lips between their teeth so hard that they looked like they were miming wearing dentures. That had broken the ice, and they nearly collapsed with laughter, realizing that it just wasn't going to work. They were each running from their own problems, and there wasn't that necessary spark to make anything more than friends really possible. Both had been relieved, and they had stayed on good terms, although they had drifted a bit.

“Why the hell would she think that?”

Sango crossed her arms. “Because as far as Kagome sees it, it fits. You suddenly started dating Kikyo out of nowhere, and then when you two broke it off, you started acting funny--and by funny, that’s about the time you got even more awkward around her when you decided you were finally going to tell Kagome how you feel. But since you have always managed to screw that up royally, she thinks that all of the things you said in the letter have to be directed at someone else.”

“Shit. I gotta talk to her,” he sighed, realizing his inability to confess straight out had only ended up hurting them both.

“Which her? Because Kagome, unsurprisingly, decided she would help you by delivering the letter to Kikyo.”

His ears shot straight up, the hair floofed and quivering. “Please tell me you're just saying that to punish me more.”

“No can do; you know Kagome. Even if it costs her personally, she’ll do anything for the people she cares about.”

“I gotta go take care of this,” he said, swinging around to go back to his car. 

“What about your classes? You can't just leave!” Sango called after him.

“I’ll call in sick,” he yelled back. It wouldn't even be a lie; his stomach was about to come up for a visit. 

Sango watched him leave, letting out a breath of air that ruffled her bangs. He seemed unusually confident as he walked away, and at that moment, Sango came to the conclusion that Inuyasha was running a Hail Mary pass. “It’s not even my relationship, and I’m developing an ulcer,” she muttered, shouldering her bag and starting the walk to her next class.

Inuyasha was hoping that Kikyo’s schedule hadn't changed much and that he was even remembering it correctly. He found a parking spot on the street and walked up to the apartment that Kikyo shared with an angry-looking girl named Tsubaki. He was hoping he would get the chance to talk privately, but with the way everything was going, he was probably just going to be lucky if he didn’t walk into a party. 

He knocked, and the door was shortly answered by Kikyo herself. She gave him a soft smile and stepped aside to let him in. 

“Inuyasha! I was hoping you would come soon,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

He froze, his eyes going wide. This couldn't be good. This. Could. Not. Be. Good.

“O-oh, yeah? Why’s that?” He asked, taking a half step backward.

“I got your letter. When I saw how you poured out your heart, it...it made me realize my true feelings.”

That was it. He could never recover from this. He was going to have to skydive without a parachute straight into the pits of hell. 

“Listen, about that,” he said, his voice cracking as he kept his eyes straight forward over her head.

“It made me realize...” she continued, then suddenly she jerked away, smacking him on the arm. “It made me realize what an idiot you are! Seriously, Inuyasha, you still haven't managed to tell her?” Kikyo huffed in exasperation.

“Huh? Wait, so you don't...”

She snorted delicately, her hands coming up to rest on her hips. “Of course not, don't be ridiculous. I just thought that you deserved to have a small heart attack.”

He slumped against the wall, said heart still hammering. “Fuck, Kikyo! I think you took a good fifty years off my life!” 

She shrugged, showing no sign of remorse. “After Kagome’s little visit this morning, I think you can spare at least that much.”

At the mention of Kagome, his shoulders hunched. “What happened? All I know is that Sango told me Kagome brought you the letter.”

Kikyo walked over to the small kitchen to perch herself on a high bar stool. “Oh, she did. She said she got a letter meant for me by mistake and wanted to make sure I got it. I swear she was smiling so hard, it looked like her cheekbones were going to cut through her skin.”

He flinched. 

Kikyo noticed and continued, “But her eyes--you should have seen her eyes!” At the memory, Kikyo’s own eyes darkened to almost black. “She was miserable, Inuyasha. I have no doubt she’s at home right now, drowning herself in ice cream.”

“She always buys a pint when she’s upset,” he mumbled feebly.

“A pint?” Kikyo snapped. “You should be so lucky. She looked like she was on her way to buy one of those bulk value containers that they serve at large events. I don't know how things got this far, but you have to fix it. Now.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, his claws scraping over the skin. The red marks faded almost instantly, but it was a testament to his distraught state that he had done that much damage--usually, he could manage them without too much thought. 

“I’m goin’ over there now. I just wanted to pick up the letter and make sure you didn't...you know.”

“Inuyasha, I knew how things were the moment I saw you turn into a puppy-eared pile of goop just by looking at her. When that fact amused rather than hurt me, I was pretty sure my tender heart would survive,” Kikyo assured him, her voice laced with amusement. 

He rolled his eyes but didn't bother to deny it; it was the truth, after all. 

“So, can I get the letter? I’d like to get over there before she makes herself sick.”

Kikyo hopped off of the stool and went down the hall to her room, returning shortly with the red envelope in hand. “Here. I don't know why you tried to act like it was a mistake that she had it. It’s a lovely letter.”

He took it from her, blushing to the roots of his hair. “I was embarrassed, okay? It was more of a rough draft. I wanted to fix it up, then give it to her.”

She frowned at him, tiny lines bunching around the corners of her eyes. “It’s true that it’s never going to end up in a museum alongside Shakespeare's sonnets, but that isn't the point. The words came from the heart; as long as you actually meant them, that’s all Kagome cares about.”

He could see her point and knew that’s how he would feel if the situation was reversed. The problem was that he just wanted things to be as perfect as possible for her, and it frustrated him that he could never get things to go the way they did in his head. Of course, imperfection wasn't as bad as making Kagome feel like she had to drown in a vat of ice cream, so clearly, he needed to dial it back a bit on the perfectionism. 

After thanking Kikyo for the letter and promising once more that he was going to fix everything, he left her apartment and started the drive to the Higurashi shrine. He managed to hit that sweet lull in traffic that was between workday lunch hour and school letting out, so he shaved a good amount off of his time. Even then, the drive felt like it took hours, and he still didn't know exactly what he was going to say. It needed to be simple yet sensitive. He couldn't run off at the mouth, but he couldn't just bite out a few syllables and expect her to get the entire context. He had to be calm. Cool. Collected.

Souta was still in school, and it looked like both her mother and grandfather were out. Excellent. No audience. The kitchen door was open, and out of habit, he let himself in, confirming by the scents that the only one in the house was Kagome. His ears flicked in the direction of the living room, where he heard the sound of the tv. Hesitantly, he made his way in, his eyes bugging out at the sight.

“Holy shit.”

Kagome jumped up with a scream, her spoon falling into the five-gallon bucket of strawberry ice cream that took up the coffee table in front of her. 

When she saw that it was Inuyasha, she turned away, resuming her seat to avoid looking him in the eye. “What are you doing here? You have classes today,” she said, her voice dull.

Inuyasha eyed the container, seeing that she had already made a significant dent. He walked around the couch and dropped down beside her, trying not to take it personally when she flinched away.

“I skipped,” he said, struggling not to focus on a pink droplet at the corner of her mouth. 

“Why are you here, Inuyasha?” She sighed, finally looking at him, bluish-black circles smudging the underside of her eyes.

Calm. Cool. Collected. Sensitive. 

“You're such an idiot.”

Kagome narrowed her eyes, her spine straightening as her lip curled back. “Seriously? If you came to insult me, you can just--”

“I came about this!” He held up the slightly crumpled letter. 

She frowned at the letter, but her eyes quickly skittered away. “What about it? I took care of it for you, like I said I would.”

Bald. He was going to be bald before he was twenty-five because she was going to make him tear out every strand in frustration. 

“Why did you think it was meant for Kikyo?”

Kagome stabbed her spoon back into the ice cream, the handle bending slightly from the force. “Who else would it be for?” She bit out, her eyes starting to shine wetly. 

“Did you even read it?”

Kagome glanced at him, her lips parting hesitantly before she shrugged and looked back down at the swirls of red-flecked pink cream. 

“Did you?” He asked again when she didn't respond. 

“I--yes, I did, okay? I'm sorry!” Her words started to spill forth in a flood, her hands jerking in the air as she gestured wildly. “I was under the impression that it was for me; otherwise, I never would have read it! I tried to make it right by giving it to Kikyo, so I don't see what the big deal is--”

He leaned into her, his face screwed up in a scowl. “You read it, and you still gave it to her? Fuck--how could you read that and think it was meant for anyone but you?”

Kagome froze, his words becoming an odd buzzing sound in her head. She had never seen him this heated without being angry before, and if she still weren't halfway under the impression that he wanted another woman, she would be more than a little intrigued to see if she couldn't get that temperature to rise. 

“I thought....maybe it was for me, at first,” she said softly, as if afraid to admit it out loud. “But then you came yesterday and said it wasn't. All of sudden, everything made sense. There wasn't any way you could have meant all of those nice things about me, and it said you had felt that way for a long time, even though I know you dated Kikyo just last--”

Inuyasha flopped back with a groan. “Look, that was....it was always you, okay? But I didn't think you'd want someone like me, so I thought it would just be better to try to get over you. Kikyo and I went out on three mutually miserable dates. We couldn't even kiss--it was just too weird for both of us,” he explained, wanting to be completely honest.

Kagome’s embarrassment began to fade. “But that’s not--when you broke up with her, you started acting so weird! I thought you were still hung up on her!”

He shook his head. He had felt like an idiot over the whole Kikyo thing and had avoided talking about it--he had no idea Kagome had gotten that kind of idea stuck in her head. “I was never hung up on her to begin with. I was actin’ weird because I had decided to tell you how I felt since it looked like I was gonna be hurt anyway.”

The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on Kagome, but she still had some lingering confusion. “Then why didn't you ever say anything?”

“I did. Except everything that came out of my mouth was either a jumbled mess or, worse, sounded like an insult. Like yesterday.”

She thought a moment, her eyes squinting as she went over the day. “Wait, in the cafeteria?”

“I meant to say you should wait out where it was warm so I could bring you some food--I could tell you were cold in there.”

Oh. That definitely was not how he had said it. Now that she thought about it, it made more sense--Inuyasha could be gruff, but he had never been cruel to her. And he had always gotten a bit tongue-tied when he was upset, at least when they were younger. Really, it explained his odd attitude for much of the last year.

“That’s, um, not what it sounded like you were saying,” she pointed out.

“Now, do you see why I thought a letter would be a better option?” He asked with a bitter laugh. “Thought that was a brilliant idea, but it turns out I’m not any better on paper than I am live and in person.”

His ears were drooped, a clear sign that he was dejected. “What was wrong with the letter?” She asked, not understanding why he had been so reluctant to let her have it--when she had first read it, she had been thrilled!

He flopped forward, burying his face in his hands. “What wasn't wrong with it? It was way too long. It rambled all over the place. It made me sound like a complete idiot. I just tossed everything in all at once, and I had to keep goin’ back to edit it to make sure I took out all of the explicit stuff, and then once I did that, things didn’t connect right, so I had to stick other stuff in, then go back and edit that--”

“Explicit stuff, huh?” Kagome interrupted his desperate explanation. 

He twisted his head to find that she was watching him with a mischievous grin, and his eyes widened when his brain caught up with his mouth. “Oh, shit,” he whispered under his breath.

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “What happened to those segments? Do I get them in another letter? Do I have to level up for that one?”

“See? I fuck everything up--how can you even be surprised that I didn't think you'd want me?”

Slowly, the smile faded as she watched him. Did he really think that? Inuyasha was everything she had ever wanted in a boyfriend--he was kind, loyal, and caring, even if he wasn't always the best at expressing it in the best way. He could be sweet and funny, and he was devoted to those he cared about; he was also always stepping up for the underdog. So what if he hadn't been a sliver-tongued devil about asking her out? How on earth could he ignore all of the rest to focus on that one small thing?

“And to think, you called me the idiot,” she said absently, mostly to herself. 

He gave a glum shrug. “Yeah, I’m an idiot. Always have been. But I’ve always been your idiot.”

Inuyasha wasn't sure what to do now; she was so quiet, so he wasn't sure if he was about to get rejected or not. He knew he had executed everything so poorly that he really shouldn't expect anything else, but she had been upset when she thought he wanted to be with someone else, right? Didn't that mean something? Or maybe he was reading too much into it.

He was pulled quite literally out of his musings by Kagome’s fingers, which had twined through the lock of his hair by the side of his face. She tugged on it gently, and when he turned his head, he sucked in a breath when he realized she had moved closer, the blue of her eyes several shades darker than usual. His heart began to hammer, and one hand twitched uselessly, not sure what to do. Should he say--

Her lips brushed over his, and with a small moan, he pressed closer, elated when she shifted to bring her other arm up and around his neck. His hands managed to find a place on her waist, thrilling at the whimper of pleasure Kagome gave at the contact. 

“Kagome,” he whispered when they reluctantly pulled apart to breathe.

Her eyes were bright, and the color in her cheeks was high. She looked slightly dizzy, drunk on the kiss. Her appearance caused a warmth to spread through his chest down to his lower stomach, his eyelids falling to halfmast. 

“Kagome,” this time it was a rough growl, and it seemed to be a signal for them both because without fully realizing how it happened, his lips were on hers again, his tongue darting out to part them and slide between--the taste of strawberries bursting on his tastebuds as her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer. His hands slipped along her back, and he nipped her bottom lip before giving it a gentle lick to soothe the pain. They were a desperate, needy tangle, making up for years of frustration and lost time, and he had to hold back a cry of disappointment when Kagome finally pulled back, her chest heaving as she tried to pull much-needed air into her lungs.

“Sorry, but someone will probably be coming home soon,” she explained, ducking her head. 

He pushed some of her hair back away from her face, his thumb lightly stroking across her cheek. “S’fine. Does this mean that we’re....I was gonna ask, but--”

Some of the playfulness returned to her eyes. “Well, I would love to, provided I get that second letter,” she said with a smirk.

He felt light, like a huge weight that he had been carrying for so long had just fallen away. The nervous tension he had felt in her presence for the last year evaporated, settling into an odd but pleasant combination of newness and familiarity. 

“If you don't mind the risk of gettin’ caught with it, I’ll write it. May take more than one, though. Anything else?”

Kagome had perked up with decided interest, but a thought struck her, and she deflated. “Actually, there is something I need.”

His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles on her neck, stilled. “What’s that?” He asked, growing more serious. He would do anything for her.

She looked over to the ice cream, which had melted considerably while they...talked. 

“My mother is going to kill me if she comes home and finds this much ice cream--there’s no way it will fit in the freezer. Can you help me?” She gave him a sheepish, pleading smile. 

He stared at her. Had she really been thinking about eating all of that in one sitting? Who even buys that much ice cream with no place to put it? Talk about overdramatic. She was just as awkward and messed up as he was, with the same tendency to overreact, and.....

And she was wonderfully, terrifyingly perfect for him.

He looked mournfully at the vat of pink, sludgy cream, wishing he were six years old again so it would actually be appealing. How was he supposed to stomach all of that?

Kagome’s eyes, if possible, became even larger, and she bit her lip, failing to hold back a sad sigh. 

Ah. That was how. 

He groaned, scooting forward on the couch. 

“Bring me a damned spoon, then.”

She kissed his cheek, and he swore that that alone would make his future stomach ache worth it.

“Leave some room for chocolate one from the kitchen!”

Or maybe not.

Two weeks later

Inuyasha hurried to board the ship, frustrated beyond belief that he was cutting it so close. His mom had insisted on pictures, and although he had tried to get out of it, his dad had given him The Look. For twenty minutes, he had endured his mom snapping pictures and getting all teary like he was a kid on the first day of school or going off to summer camp. He considered playing dead just to get her to stop but suspected it would just end up in the photo album with the caption ‘Inuyasha’s First Trip to the Mortuary’ and covered in little coffin stickers. 

He had sent a text to the others letting them know he would be late and wasn't surprised to find out they had already boarded--the trip hadn't even started, and he was already missing out! He moved a little faster, careful not to let his bag hit the other passengers. In another struggle with his mom, he had opted to pack light. He figured he would be spending most of his time in the pool or the ocean anyway, and he could always use the ship’s laundry or buy more clothes in the gift store or wherever they stopped. 

Thoughts of swimming led to thoughts of Kagome in a bathing suit, and he hoped she had brought something tasty. He licked his lips at the mental image and then scowled when he noticed the number of men on the ship. Okay, something tasty and a nice ankle-length cover-up to wear over it. With a heavy sigh, he acknowledged the fact that he would be happy to see her at all, regardless of what she was wearing. They had barely sorted out the fact that they were dating before the end of the year schedules between school and family ate up most of their time, and they had hardly gotten a chance to be together. 

He overheard several people making their way to their rooms, and since he wasn't familiar with the layout yet, he casually followed them, figuring he would be able to find his own room from that point. Sure enough, it wasn't long before he caught a whiff of cologne that he recognized as Miroku’s, so he veered off down the hall to find the source. There were hardly any other people, and when an older couple entered their room, he was able to see Miroku headed his way, just exiting what Inuyasha assumed to be the room they would be sharing. 

“You made it!” Miroku called, a large smile on his face. “We were starting to worry you’d have to doggie paddle out to meet us.”

“I wouldn't give you the pleasure,” Inuyasha snorted. “Where are the girls? Let me drop this in my room, and we can join them.” 

“Oh, they're around,” Miroku said cryptically. “We’ll be up on deck; take your time!”

Inuyasha watched him go with a puzzled expression. What was that supposed to mean? He was literally going to toss his bag on the bed. With a shrug, he decided he would just catch up in a minute. Miroku would be making a beeline for Sango, which meant Kagome would be nearby. He pulled out his room card and swiped it through the reader.

Nothing happened. 

He swiped it again, this time slower.

Still nothing.

With a frown, he tried it again, facing the other way and then brushing off the strip to see if it wasn't reading correctly. When all of his attempts failed, he looked at the number on the card and compared it with the one on the door. Aaaaaand they didn't match, so he had just been trying to break into someone else’s room. That didn't even make sense! He and Miroku were sharing, and he had just come out of this room! Oh. Waitaminute. If Miroku had charmed his way into adding separate rooms on his dad’s card, he was going to.....he gave a slow, predatory smile. He was going to do nothing. Once his dad got the bill, Inuaysha planned to sit back and watch him eat Miroku for lunch.

Still, at least this meant he had a room all to himself. 

Minding the numbers, he rounded the corner and found the room that matched his card, pleased to see the green light flash when he swiped it through. He stepped in, and movement out of the corner of his eye caught him off guard--maybe he had the wrong room, after all.

“Sorry, I thought--” 

His nose caught up with his surroundings, and he was hit with Kagome’s scent as she stood up from placing several items of clothing in one of the drawers. She was wearing a little spaghetti-strap dress that was light blue and covered in sunflowers. The material clung to her body until it reached her hips, where it flared out to swish as she turned, the majority of her legs left uncovered.

“Hey!” She said brightly, ignoring his stunned fish look. “I hope you don't mind; when I asked Sango and Miroku about switching, they were fine with it, but we can always trade back if you want.”

If she thought he would rather room with Miroku instead of her, he was obviously doing this boyfriend thing all wrong. 

He tossed his bag to the side and kicked the door shut with his heel, a lazy, fang-exposing grin on his face as he crossed the room to stand before her. “Thought I’d have to write another letter before I got that far,” he teased, his hands resting comfortably on her hips, his thumbs rubbing small, light circles. 

“Hm. I considered that,” Kagome giggled, her fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, scratching deliciously through the hair at the base of his skull. “But then I thought of something even better.”

“What’s that?” He asked in a low voice, resting his forehead against hers, enjoying the way she leaned into him.

“Letters are beautiful,” she rose up slightly on her toes, her lips ghosting against his. “But sometimes actions speak louder than words.”