Disclaimer: Never have. Never will.

A/N: I liiiive :D New Years One shot for the Chasms SantaMiro event :3 Thanks to everyone to participated it! It's Raw and Unbetaed - so please excuse the spelling or grammar.

This story is dedicated to Meg — I hope you enjoy!

Groaning in despair, Sango sunk to the snow-covered concrete and tried in vain to focus her eyes on just which key would magically open her apartment door. A tinkling came to her ear and Sango risked a glance over the balcony wall to locate the sound. Sure enough, the ever-so-charming, tragically pervert Miroku was leading his latest catch into the building. The sight only gave her more motivation — the idea of meeting with Miroku when she was a little less than sober gave her the chills.

As the voices approached even closer, Sango desperately jammed random keys into the handle. Sooner or later — preferably sooner — one of them had to fit.

“Having a little trouble?”

Sango cringed and regretfully turned around to face her neighbor.

“No, Miroku. Everything is just dandy.” Except the words came out a mumble and Sango turned back around, eager to end the conversation before it began.

“Right... Well this is Min,” Miroku indicated the woman — girl, really — who was attached to his arm. “She just moved over into 4E, I was showing her around town.”

Well that was nice. Not that Sango really cared. He could do whatever he wanted, she didn’t care. Nope. Not a care in the world.

She still instantly hated the girl.

“Nice to meet you,” Sango managed to spit out as suddenly the world tilted. Min, with as much tact as a four-year-old, asked bluntly, “Are you drunk?”

Deciding the question was completely irrelevant to her dilemma, Sango decided to ignore it and jammed another key at the lock. “I can’t find the right key,” she admitted. Miroku halted her attempts at force entry and withdrew the key ring from her fingers.

“That’s because your name isn’t Kagome.”

“What?”

Sure enough, a bright-blue ‘Kagome’ charm hung off of the center ring. Now how Sango had missed that, she couldn’t figure out.

“C’mon,” Miroku said with a sigh, nodding his head towards his own apartment, “You can use my phone to call your friend.”

Min seemed to pout and crossed her arms. Four-year-old indeed. “I was hoping you would come inside for a drink.”

“Oh yes, don’t mind me,” Sango said dryly. “I’ll just freeze to death on New Years.” Sango dug herself deeper into the snow pile and waved them off. “Be gone.”

Miroku closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face — perhaps sensing the loss. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Min.”

Score one for the girl next door.

Min sent Sango a glare to kill and marched off. Once she disappeared into her own apartment, Miroku walked behind Sango, slipping his arms underneath of hers.

“Upsy Daisy.” Sango felt herself slip at the sudden movement and flailed, falling back onto Miroku’s chest for support.

“Getting a head start on the New Year?” Miroku asked, straightening her out.

“I’m not drunk,” Sango insisted.

“You’re not sober.”

“It was a wine cooler.”

Miroku stared at her as though she had grown another head. “A wine cooler?” He repeated, “You had a wine cooler.”

Sango flushed with embarrassment. So she couldn’t hold her alcohol. Big deal. She was hardly a big drinker — maybe once in high school — and her alcohol tolerance was obviously at an all-time low. Sango muttered something incoherent again and pushed at Miroku’s door.

“It’s cold.”

“Well of course it is, you have snow all over your butt.” Sango flushed red as a hand that wasn’t her own dusted around her rear end. Sango swatted at his hand and pushed him with as much strength as she could muster.

“I was helping!” He protested.

“You can help by letting me inside.”

Miroku pouted, reminding Sango of a wounded puppy, and opened the front door, leading Sango inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Miroku told her as he disappeared into the bedroom. Sango strolled around the small living space, taking in the scene. She had never actually been inside before, despite the fact that they’d been neighbors for years. He’d been inside of hers plenty — not because she invited him though. He would just kind of pop up, hang out, and be on his merry way. As much as Sango hated to admit it, she was never that put-out by it. Still, being in his apartment was a change.

Deciding it was time to sit down, Sango sat herself on a love seat. Miroku shuffled in the bedroom and Sango felt herself panic at her choice of cushion. She looked around for a one seat-er but found, much to her astonishment, there were none. The entire living room was love seats.

Who did that?

“I’ve got you some blankets,” Miroku told her, tucking one around her, “How about something to eat?”

How about a phone? Sango thought, though her stomach roared in answer. Miroku smiled and turned to the kitchen leaving Sango to blush at the attention.

This is stupid, she thought. Get to the phone and get out of here. But her mind held little sway over the rest of her body at the moment and instead of bolting for the door, she snuggled deeper into the cushion.

Miroku looked over the counter at her. “I’ve got cold pizza, bagel bites, cokes, and plums.” He called out to her.

Plums? Plums seemed odd in the middle of winter, but Sango liked plums. She told him so. She liked them because his eyes reminded her of two little plums. Not that she would ever tell him that.

She told him so.

Damnit. Bad mouth. Bad!

“Oh?” Those two said plums lit up like two Christmas lights as he walked towards her, coke’s in hand. “And you think they look tasty.” Handing her a bottle, Miroku took her place beside her. Of course she thought they were looked tasty. He looked tasty. But every fruit had its little furry insect invaders, and Sango and a rough idea of what his might be. Rather than spill out more embarrassing facts, Sango took a long swig of the coke. Unable to stop it, she let out an enormous burp. Miroku’s eyes seemed to widen as much as hers, but instead of being mortified — where had her manners gone anyway? — he threw his head back and laughed.

“Sorry,” Sango mumbled, sinking down into the couch.

“My dear Sango,” Miroku laughed, “I think I like you when you’re incoherent.”

“I think you like me all the time.”

Crap! Sango took a vow at that very moment never to drink and come at home ever again. Nope. She’d just stay at the bar.

Miroku paused with the coke still in his hand and looked at her from the side of his eye. Slightly uncomfortable, Sango shifted in the love seat — which suddenly seemed two sizes too small — and took another drink of cola.

“I think you’re right.” Miroku turned to the side and, with a hand on either side of her, leaned over her. “Let me show you how much.”

“Please don’t,” Sango panicked. Miroku paused and looked at her.

“Why not?”

Because she hadn’t brushed her teeth since this morning? Because she was sure her hair had split ends? Because if he kissed her she might not want him to stop? Thousands of reasons ran through her mind and Sango felt a bubbling in her throat. Without warning, Sango turned her head and let out another burp, managing to cover her mouth with this one.

Crisis resolved.

Miroku stopped, possibly stunned, and returned to his own cushion to take a sip of his own coke. A moment passed in silence until a loud burp erupted from his mouth. Unable to control herself, Sango fell over laughing as the tension drained away, Miroku following soon after. When they finally sobered, Miroku pointed over to the wall.

“The phone’s over there when you want to call your friend.”

Sango nodded waddled her way over, still wrapped in the blanket, to the phone. She could hear Miroku laughing behind her as she spoke and Kagome asked her, at length, the describe her neighbor. Putting her off and securing her promise to bring her keys to her immediately, Sango hung up the phone. Waddling back over, Sango sat back on the couch.

“Sorry I ruined your New Years,” Sango apologized. Miroku shook his head and put an arm around Sango’s shoulders.

“No worries, I’ve still got,” Miroku looked at his watch, “twenty-three minutes to get trashed. Not to mention time after the ball drops.”

They passed the time in amiably silence — After Sango had shrugged his arm off of her shoulder. She still felt a bit tingly, but hardly enough so that forgot his earlier wandering hands. As the doorbell rang, Sango turned to say goodnight but was instead met by Miroku’s lips against hers — soft and cola-flavored. Before she could ask, or yell, or do anything, Miroku held the watch up to her face.

12:00. On the dot.

“Happy New Years, Sango.”

Deciding the kiss was appropriate. Sango nodded her head.

“Happy New Years.”