Author's Note: Christ, Episode 101? Miroku. Singing. Lullabies!

Also, thank you for reviewing. Um. I hope you realize there was no gratuitous scene at the end of last chapter. It was a joke. Or, well, attempt at a joke. Eheh. -_-;

Landlady, Freud would love you.

Cin of Angel, you are my new concubine. No objections. ^_~

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Warning: progressively sillier. Also, if you've sent me emails and haven't gotten a response, it's because:

Sandra: Hey, AOL, I have finals. I'll be busy. So. Don't delete my stuff.

AOL: Okay.

Sandra: Hey, AOL...

AOL: Yes, Sandra?

Sandra: Um. Where's my inbox? It was here a second ago.

AOL: I am sorry, Sandra. Your inbox is no longer operational. It has contracted a virulent affliction—

Sandra: It's an inbox.

AOL: Chill, baby girl, I jus' be messin' wi'chou.

Sandra: Oh! Oh, thank God. So, you still have my mail?

AOL: Of course not.

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The art of love... is largely the art of persistence.

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Itwas the best of times; it was the worst of times.

She hadn't slapped him. She hadn't pushed him away. She'd let him kiss her brains out. She thought she knew everything about him? Ha! He'd show her.

"You said yes to me," he whispered slyly, and to emphasize his point, lowered his mouth to her chin, gently grazing her skin, slowly moving up and up, until his lips brushed hers.

He could ignore her muffled protests. He could ignore the way his robes were becoming thoroughly restricting. He could ignore the fact that she wasn't interested in him. But he couldn't ignore—

The persistent little something that was chewing on his leg.

"Miroku!" Shippou, the littlest kitsune, groused, fidgeting and, obviously, no longer interested in sleep. "Inuyasha's going to rip you a new one."

Miroku's lips curved upwards against Kagome's.

He slowly drew his mouth lower, in a wet, achy slide. He couldn't let her win. He couldn't. She was wrong. He wasn't... afraid.

Huffily, he raised a disdainful eyebrow, and though every cell in his body was throbbing with this inexplicable (though not that inexplicable) need, he slowly released Kagome from his grip. She wobbled dizzily for a moment, then raised a shaky finger.

"You... you..." she pinched him aggressively. "You! Ooh!"

Miroku grinned wickedly.

Kagome stood there for a moment longer, looking deep in thought. Then, to Miroku's utter horror, she smiled dazzlingly.

Miroku said his prayers.

"You..." she whispered, softly this time. "You've made me so happy!"

Miroku wondered if his left arm was supposed to be tingling so ominously.

And then—

She pounced, tackling him to the ground, and peppering his face with countless butterfly kisses.

He could vaguely feel the blood leave his face.

W—what brought this on? It was—it wasn't suppo—why—and—

"Oh, Miroku," she clapped her hands enthusiastically. "You love me!"

Miroku blinked.

Kagome pounced. "I—I can't wait to introduce you to my family!" she said ecstatically. Miroku swallowed hard. "They're going to love you. Grandpa especially!" she squealed, clapping her hands.

Miroku couldn't feel his legs.

Love? He didn't—he wasn't—I'm never talking to another female. Ever again.

"Ooh! And once we get married for real, do you think we should live here or—or in my time? Because, I mean, we have to raise Shippou together and, well, my time has better schools," she paused thoughtfully, scooping the little kitsune into her arms. Shippou blinked wildly.

Miroku mirrored him.

He felt... dizzy. Breathless. Panicked.

Must. Get. Out. Now.

"Ano, Kagome..." he began carefully, inching away from her. "Perhaps we should—"

But Kagome wasn't listening. Her eyes were glittering madly as she suddenly snuggled into him. "Wow," she said haughtily, "we'll spend the rest of our lives together. With each other. Just the two of us."

Miroku's brain exploded.

Kagome nestled into his shoulder. Shippou gave him a frightened look.

The rest of his life.

Uh. That... that was a... long—very long—time. Unless. Unless! There was still the little matter of the curse! The kazaana. It might consume him soon. Besides! This was the warring era. He could die tomorrow! And—

Dear Buddha. Was she right? Did Kagome know him better than he knew himself? How was that possible? He actually preferred death to serious commitment? How did Kagome—

Kagome.

Oh, crap. He'd finally tricked her into confessing her burning desire, and his first instinct was to flee the premises?

A slight breeze lifted the hem of her little kimono, exposing creamy skin.

He couldn't. He couldn't hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. Because she... she was—

She was...

Grinning.

"I rest my case, Miroku-sama," she chirped triumphantly, folding her hands in her lap. She arranged her face into an innocent expression, but he could clearly see the mischievous smile playing about her lips.

Wench. WENCH.

"So, all of that just now was—" he breathed out, wondering if his heart was ever going to slow down.

Kagome grinned brilliantly. "I—" she began happily. "I hate losing, too."

Damn. Point proven.

Scoffing, Miroku tried to hide a grin. And failed miserably. She was insane. And amazing. And so much like him—

He couldn't help it.

He kissed her again.

His fingertips brushed across her cheek, lips gently pressing against hers. His anger and embarrassment melted away instantaneously. Shippou, who'd watched all this, thoroughly confused, whimpered.

Hmm. It might not be so bad. With Kagome, certainly.

Fear... abating.

Emboldened, Miroku slipped his fingers lower, skimming the waistline of her little kimono. She stilled instantly, and with a harsh exhale, blinked at him. Her cheeks were burning a bright crimson as she pushed herself away.

And then—

A surprisingly solid slap to his face sobered him up. He looked at her with a blink and both raised eyebrows.

Ow.

"Stop doing that, you pervert!" said Kagome, flustered.

"Yeah, stop doing that!" said Shippou, pawing at Miroku's robes.

Miroku grinned an enlightened man's smile.

"No," he said simply.

The wind picked up.

Branches swayed.

Leaves rustled.

Crickets chirped.

The moon... didn't do much.

"You see, Kagome-sama," said Miroku ingeniously, prying Shippou's fingers off his ankle, "I've come to an exemplary conclusion."

Kagome's eyes widened slightly. Shippou cocked his head. Miroku observed them with a patronizing air about him.

"I'm going to prove you wrong," he murmured enticingly, eyeing Kagome's pouty bottom lip.

Kagome took a step back.

Miroku smirked to himself. No. She wasn't getting away. Not now. She'd gotten him adequately stimulated, inciting and provoking that primal part of his nature. She was his.

He deserved this. He did. He'd gone through so much abuse in the last few days. He needed this. He'd indebted himself to Mother, for heaven's sake. He would collect. He would.

Vindicated, Miroku glanced at the little kitsune. "Shippou, leave for a little bit, please."

Shippou stood his ground. "Why?"

Miroku's lips curled wickedly.

Shippou blanched, and scurried away quickly.

Kagome yelped, putting her hands up defensively. Not quick enough. Miroku's fingers wrapped around her wrist easily, pulling her closer.

Kagome stumbled back, scrunching up her nose. "Miroku-sama—"

Something must have been showing in his eyes, something he didn't want her to see, but she did anyway, because she suddenly looked a lot less terrified. Slowly, craftily, he ran a thumb down her cheek, tilting his head.

There was only one way to shut Higurashi Kagome up.

He crushed his lips to hers, wondering all the while if—

You're officially a liar, Miroku.

Didn't he swear he'd be keeping his fingers to himself? Didn't he threaten Akito? Didn't he decide Kagome was in love with Inuyasha? That she was—

—kissing him back?

Miroku blinked his eyes open, then quickly shut them again, sliding his hands past her little red necktie, his palms brushing across her clothed flesh. Tentatively, he opened his eyes again to see her looking—

Gorgeous. Flushed and lovely and—

What was he doing? Spouting poetic crap while she was right there, a breath's width away, warm and soft and—

Gah. His fingers had gone on ahead without him. Lucky, lucky fingers. Currently, they were somewhere between her thighs (Miroku groaned bewilderedly), and while it was quite innocent and in all likelihood, harmless, his mind segued into the possibilities.

Praying Kagome wasn't as vocal as he suspected her to be, he contemplated lowering her to the ground and—

—realized he really wasn't getting enough oxygen to contemplate anything. So, instead, he tugged at her kimono, impatient to rid them both of such a formidable impediment.

He didn't especially stop to consider why this Kagome hadn't murdered him by now. He hadn't even stopped to examine whether or not she was still breathing. In truth, he hadn't even checked if Shippou's little eyes were safe from this display.

Heh. See if I care.

With renewed vigor, Miroku deepened the kiss, while his brain surrendered. The scent of black tea and white jasmine lingered in the air, rich and sweet and yes, it was so very obvious now. Higurashi Kagome wanted him, the furyou houshi. Badly.

And this houshi was nothing if not generous. Why, he would not—could not—refuse a beautiful woman in need. Especially if that need happened to coincide with his own. Really, it was all very noble. And selfless. And for the good of humankind. And puppies and babies.

Except, this time, she wasn't asleep, and she wasn't unresponsive, and—

A distant noise shook the ground below them. Loud, booming footsteps echoed rudely, advancing.

And while Miroku usually appreciated divine intervention, as he was a devoted monk and all, this was. Not. The. Time.

He drew back, panting wildly.

A large, ugly demon, with scaly limbs and a feathered backside was towering over the orchard. Miroku sighed dejectedly.

Figures.

With a whining cry, Shippou bounded toward them, seeking protection.

Uck.

Stealthily, Miroku pulled Kagome behind him, casting one last glance at her slightly swollen lips. Sigh.

"Don't argue with me this time," he commanded stiffly.

Despite the incredible blush that was still gracing her cheeks, he heard Kagome's huffy response.

"I didn't argue with you last time," she muttered, tucking her hands in his robes.

Miroku blinked in surprise. Her fingers—

"Arguing implies immaturity and emotional instability," she continued, peeping at the demon over Miroku's shoulder. "And since the only immature, emotionally unstable person here happens to be you—"

"I am not immature!" he retaliated testily, keeping his eyes on the demon. It seemed to be looking for something (eheh...) and wasn't particularly curious about the three little blurbs below it.

"I am not immature," repeated Miroku, lowering his voice.

He heard Kagome snort behind him. "If you're not immature, and I'm not immature, why are we arguing?" she asked boldly.

Miroku sighed, and turned around. She squeaked, and took a step back, but his hands gripped her shoulders. Shippou leapt toward him, scurrying up his robes to wrap his little paws around Miroku's neck.

Miroku pointedly ignored him. "Kagome-sama," he said seriously. "I think this has been previously established," he told her studiously, "but there is some... unresolved sexual tension between us."

Smack.

Rubbing his cheek with a sulk, Miroku glanced at Kagome, then back at the little kitsune. "Wouldn't you agree, Shippou?"

"Yes, Shippou-chan," mumbled Kagome dangerously. "Wouldn't you agree? With me, I mean."

Shippou squirmed. Miroku and Kagome glared at him intently. Shippou squirmed some more. And then, just when Miroku was considering letting the little kitsune off the hook, Shippou grinned maniacally.

"I know!" he said triumphantly, a particularly wild glint flickering in his eyes.

Oh. Dear Buddha, thought Miroku. The kid's snapped.

"I'll just do what I did when my mom and dad would get into a fight!" the child continued frantically, then leapt high up in the air, and—

Poof.

There went a pink balloon, bouncing off Miroku's head. Soon, it was nothing but a blur, heading toward the dimly-lit inn.

Blink. Er...

"He—he ran away," said Kagome dazedly.

Uh huh.

Miroku's brows furrowed with concentration. His arms slid from Kagome's shoulders to her hands. With a wicked grin, he turned toward the inn, and shouted, "Shippou!"

Kagome stood there, frozen to her spot.

The little kitsune poked his bushy head out, having been hiding in an empty barrel. "What?"

Miroku was still grinning. "I'm curious," he began pleasantly, "as to how exactly your parents preferred to reconcile."

Silence.

"Shippou?"

Nothing.

Miroku glanced at Kagome, who was glaring at him suspiciously, though her hands still rested in his. A small smirk curled his lips.

All mine.

He was ready to reconcile with Kagome in his own, special way, but—

Something was tugging at his robes. Miroku looked down. Shippou, his big eyes wide, was looking at him expectantly.

"They'd usually take a bath together," he said innocently as Kagome practically blacked out. Shippou scratched his chin bemusedly, latching onto Miroku. "But, for some reason, I'd never be allowed to go with them," he pouted thoughtfully.

An impish grin tickled Miroku's lips.

You don't say.

"Well, Kagome-sama," he said with an overly dramatic flourish. "I think we better do as young Shippou says." He smiled playfully. "For the sake of the child, of course. No ulterior motive," he mumbled cleverly as he loosened his robes. "Honest," he said, reaching for her again.

His outer robes sank to the ground unceremoniously.

Eeek! Cold, cold! It hadn't been the smartest idea, but—

It was worth it. The almost-appreciative expression on her face was—

Wait. Appreciative?

Oh, yes, I'm a dead man.

As expected, Kagome narrowed her eyes angrily and took a furious step closer, poking Miroku's chest accusingly. "Listen here, you evil monk!" she growled. "I (poke) will not be taking a stupid bath with (poke) you." She paused, took a deep breath, and launched herself at him.

Miroku winced, though his fingers welcomed the contact, thanking the bewildered monk on a well-executed move.

"And—and! Stop looking at me with those—those (she shrieked) those... EYES! I want—won't! Imean, I WON'T—be doing anything of the sort with (poke poke) you, no matter HOW cute you are (Miroku's eyes widened) and, and, and—another thing—"

And then, she was—

She was—

Gone.

The demon.

THE DEMON.

Miroku cursed violently. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He'd forgotten. He hadn't been paying attention. Hadn't been thinking about anything except her. Hadn't been—

She thought he was cute?

GAH! Again. He was doing it again.

Through a mixture of anger and confusion, he looked up to see the demon, its one claw easily the size of Shippou, gingerly holding Kagome pinched between its paws. Promptly, the demon scratched its ugly head and brought it closer to Kagome. "You," it grumbled, its jaw unhinging. Kagome winced.

"Kagome!" Shippou screeched, panicking and nervously attacking Miroku's foot.

Miroku clenched his fists.

"Where's my cub?" the demon continued, looking—somewhat amicably—at Kagome.

Miroku groaned.

The girl was... she was hopeless. Trouble magnet, if ever there was one. Of the three blurbs, the demon decided to just randomly pick her up? Her?

Okay, so, given the opportunity, Miroku would pick her up, too, and quite a number of times, really, and possibly, bring her down again, hard, slam her onto his—

"Cub?" Kagome asked sheepishly. "Fuzzy...? He, um... well, you see, it was... and... I..."

The demon blinked.

Miroku rubbed his temples. With a quick glance to assure himself Shippou was safe, he gathered his robes, collected his golden staff, and grumbled.

That was it, then. He'd never have to fight Naraku.

Because Kagome. Would. Obviously. Get. Him. Killed. Tonight.

"You make no sense, human!" snarled the demon impatiently.

Miroku froze. No. No, no, no, no. Don't—don't drop her.

Dread rushed through his body, chilling him to the bone. Think, think, you idiot.

"Oi!" he shouted loudly. The demon blinked its five eyes dumbly.

Gah! Can't—can't use the kazaana. Not with Kagome in its direct path. Kuso! He needed—he needed...

Sweet, holy Buddha, but he needed—

—Inuyasha.

No. Kagome needed Inuyasha.

Oddly enough, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Feeling strangely antagonistic, Miroku pointed his staff at the demon.

"Put her down," he said calmly, though his tone was deadly. The demon eyed him warily. It glanced at Kagome, then Miroku, then back at Kagome. "Did you take my cub?" it asked. Kagome nodded, sniffling.

No, you idiot girl!

That was it. She was in for a spanking!

Damn. Spanking.

Momentarily distracted, Miroku almost missed it. The demon shifted its paws, and Kagome just—slid through its fingers.

For a moment, as Kagome's little kimono fluttered wildly in the breeze, Miroku could hear the world stop.

She could die. She could get seriously hurt if she hit the ground. She could—

Land is his arms?

Ow.

Relived, though they'd tumbled to the ground rather hard, he crushed her to him, mumbling unintelligibly into her hair. What was this bizarre emotion? Relief, certainly, but—

Her heart was beating incredibly fast. He could feel it. He could. And—she was trembling against him. Why? Why this sudden need to protect her? Why this sudden need to—

"A cub for a cub," he heard the demon say suddenly. Stunned, both Miroku and Kagome looked up.

Oh, crap. Shippou.

"Um, help?" the little kitsune whimpered from his unpleasant spot within the demon's fist.

Damn it. Was Kagome's bad luck contagious or something?

"Can't we establish a line of dialogue first?" asked Miroku carefully, calculating the distance between him and the child.

"Cub for a cub," the demon repeated, blinking its five eyes and cocking its big head. "Squish."

Miroku growled. Okay. No. No one hurts Shippou.

"Shippou, when I tell you to, bite its hand and jump," he shouted, unwrapping his beads. "Do it!"

"Squish, squish," howled the demon, tightening his fingers around the kid.

"Shippou!"

And the little kitsune did it. He sank his tiny fangs into the demon's paw, yelped, and tumbled to the ground safely.

Certain that Shippou was adequately beyond the demon's range, Miroku looked up furiously.

Like I said. "No one hurts Shippou."

The trees bent their heads as Miroku's kazaana did its job. Except—

The demon. The demon was too large. It roared dangerously, stomping its feet, and planting itself firmly into the ground.

Eep.

Concentrating, Miroku watched the demon's tail swing about, demolishing the orchard. Not that Noda didn't deserve a little property damage, but—

Frowning, Miroku closed his fist, wrapping the beads around it.

Yep.

They were screwed.

The demon stopped struggling, obviously aware of the change in physics. It mewled uneasily, and unhinged its jaw again, its saliva drenching everything below it. Which, unfortunately, included Shippou.

With a quick, menacing glance at Miroku, the demon—

Withdrew.

And as its footsteps echoed in the distance, Miroku frowned and went to check on the kid. Shippou sat there, soaked and sticky, looking dejected.

"You're going to need a bath," said Miroku, putting as much cheer into his voice as humanly possible.

Shippou's eyes widened terribly. "No! No more baths! No—no more!" he cried, shaking his little head. He raised an arm, covered with goo, and pointed at Miroku. "You can't make me, you just can't and—"

With a lightning-quick pounce, Shippou was off again, toward the inn, knocking Miroku backwards. Miroku hit the ground, laughing.

At least the child was safe. That was all that ma—

Huh. The ground. It felt unusually soft.

"Um, Miroku-sama?" came a silky voice.

Oy. Was he—did he? Yes. Yes, a million times yes.

My, but she felt so good beneath him. Happily, he flipped over.

Now, this... this was unquestionably a position he could work with. Finally.

She squirmed underneath him, but didn't push him off. In fact, she was watching him oddly, a peculiar inkling shimmering in her eyes.

"Keh. He didn't even say thank you," said Miroku amusedly, wedging his knee between hers. He paused. Kagome was—

"Thank you," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

Throat... dry.

Her arms were flat against her body and she was picking at the grass and... Miroku didn't want to move. So, well, obviously, he didn't.

"Ano... That demon will be back," he continued, chagrined to find himself stalling for time. Kagome nodded silently.

Carefully, Miroku weighed his next words, then said, in a low, calculated voice, "Though, perhaps by the time it returns, Inuyasha and his Tetsusaiga will be here."

Huh.

Look at that. No noticeable reaction.

Miroku tilted his head curiously. "I said—"

"Miro-kun," she mumbled, finally glancing at him. "Your staff."

Miroku blinked.

"Your staff is covered with the icky stuff."

Miroku panicked. How did that hap—

Oh. OH. His actual staff. The metal one. The one... off to the side, drowning in demon-slobber. Eheh. Flustered, he scratched the back of his neck. He'd have to be very, very careful, because if either of them shifted by even a centimeter, Kagome would know.

And then, Miroku Jr. would be no more.

Gulp.

"Um, so, if you, you know, would get off me..." she continued self-consciously, "...you could go clean it, while I... hit the sack."

Miroku's head (and assortment of various body parts) ached. That was just... too much. Innuendo. It was all—

Kagome was giggling. "I'm sorry," she snickered, "You've got goop in your hair, too. So, I guess you should wash that out first."

Miroku frowned. Did she have to keep pointing out all his misfortunes? She was really quite mean when it came right down to—

"Gomen ne," she giggled, face now flushed with glee. "I laugh... um, because I care?"

Miroku froze.

Kagome stopped giggling. "Miroku-sama?" she ventured uncomfortably.

"What did you say?" he mumbled in a deep, unsteady voice.

Her eyes widened a fraction. "It—it's just an expression," she squirmed, pushing herself away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Miroku watched her intently. And then—

Slowly, he crept closer, closer, until his body covered hers in a most delicious manner. And even through his thick robes, he could feel the warm curves he was pressing against.

His tongue, hot and wet, darted out to lick the corner of her mouth. "Just an expression," he whispered as way of apology, though he looked smug and slightly—

Apprehensive.

Kagome was watching him uncertainly.

"You're not a very good monk, are you?" she asked slowly, but made no attempt to get away.

Miroku grinned ruefully. "Not as such, no."

And then, predictably, Kagome raised her hand.

Feigning aloofness, he shut his eyes with a sigh, expecting one of her patented slaps. Which, at the moment, would be a welcomed circumstance. A fix, a distraction, a—

Wait a minute.

He squinted experimentally. Her hand was there, all right, but...

Miroku's eyes fluttered open. And then—

—his heart stopped.

To his complete and utter bewilderment, Kagome was watching him sleepily, her fingers playing with his hair, a gentle smile lingering about her lips.

Kagome?

Kagome smiled softly.

"You taste like chocolate," was all she said.

Miroku gaped quite awkwardly.

Her earlier words echoed in his mind. 'Exactly like this piece of chocolate.'

And then, the next thing he knew—

His lips were brushing across her soft ones, his eyes were gently closed, his heart was racing, and—

—an almost inhumane growl tore through the night air.

A chilly breeze swept Miroku's little ponytail up, up, up, until the hair on the back of his neck prickled at his skin.

Oh, crap.

Cautiously, Miroku turned his head, his hands still pressing into Kagome's, erm, parts. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could vaguely make out the orchard's distant shrubbery. The moon hung low over the darkened treetops, and—

—and there, obscured by shadows, stood an enraged silhouette, poised to pounce.

Inuyasha.

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Inuyasha: So, I didn't miss anything important, did I?

Miroku: No. Say... you've been de-clawed, yes?