Convivial

By: The Hatter Theory

All Or Nothing Day

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Inu Yasha or anything by Ono No Komachi.

AN: The aforementioned song that keeps getting mentioned is any song you love listening and bopping to alone, but would be mortified if anyone else knew how much you loved it. I never intended there to be a specific song lol.

A new mix cd played loudly as she danced through the kitchen, determined to surprise Sesshoumaru. Inu Yasha had mentioned that while his brother had never celebrated his birthday, he had been born in the summer. And, wanting to give Sesshoumaru something after everything he had done, she had, with the utmost care, made dinner. And not burned a single dish or cabinet.

They were short a plastic ladle, but she had been able to get the plastic off of the burner, and the lingering scent had easily been banished with the smell of the meat and herbs.

Glancing at the clock, she figured he would be home in perhaps another half hour, giving her plenty of time to get dressed and store the eggplant in the oven to keep warm and hide it until she was ready to put it on the plates. It wouldn't be gourmet, but it would look gourmet, and maybe even sound like it had been difficult.

Twisting her hips and arms, she did a shimmy of victory, fist pumping the air.

Only to feel Sesshoumaru's youki grow closer.

Crap.

She looked around, not caring that he would see her in a sports bra and yoga pants, because they'd been growing -slightly- more comfortable with each other, and she had continued walking around with a bared stomach, perhaps as a defense against his bared chest. Not that it was working as well as she'd hoped, but there were moments she was able to pretend he was wearing a shirt and that she wasn't staring.

She was afraid he'd see his surprise.

The front door opened and she ran to the fridge, arms out to the sides in a childish attempt to block the kitchen. Too late she realized the position had the effect of pushing her chest out and tried to control the blush that felt ready to blossom into existence.

"You're not allowed in here," She told him quickly.

"You've been playing in the kitchen without supervision," He stated. He didn't seem mad, but he did look vaguely worried.

"It's not done yet."

He looked ready to say something but stopped, his mouth closing. His only comment was to shrug and walk past her and to the stairs. Giving a relieved sigh, she turned back to the stove and looked at the timer. Fifty five minutes had passed, five less than the recipe had called for. Checking the directions again, she turned the burner off and carefully transplanted one of the eggplants to a plate and cut it in half. Testing the steaming rice she smiled.

It was done. And delicious.

Hoping to finish before he came back down, she put the other on a plate and cut it, then took a few springs of the mint she'd bought and carefully washed and placed them in what she hoped look like an artistic setting. Knowing Sesshoumaru had been trained as a chef was daunting enough, and she knew better than to expect a result like what he could do, but it tasted good, and looked decent enough, even if the sauce she drizzled lightly over it looked more splattered than lined.

She had just finished pouring two glasses on wine when he walked back downstairs. He'd taken off his bracelet and shirt and belt, but still wore his slacks.

"Am I allowed to come in?" He asked, brow raised.

"I was going to set the table," She started.

"I like eating in the kitchen," He said.

She shrugged. It was his surprise birthday present after all, although she hadn't realized he liked eating in the kitchen, and made note to do it more often.

"Sit," She commanded.

He sat on a bar stool, eyes on the plates. She put one on the elevated counter and handed him a fork.

"Lamb and rice stuffed eggplant," She declared.

"It smells wonderful," He commented before taking a small bite.

He chewed.

She watched.

He smiled and hummed appreciatively.

She felt like falling over from the sheer weight of relief. That was a sound she had never, not once, heard him make. And it thrummed through her down to her toes. No matter what else happened, if his cake collapsed or the birthday candles caught fire to the apartment, that sound would make it worth it.

"This is delicious. You've done well. And no fires."

"Jerk," She huffed. "I make you an awesome dinner and you have to bring up fires."

"Would you have preferred the re-hydrated youkai?" He asked archly.

"You could just be proud that I didn't burn anything," She pointed out dryly, neglecting to mention the ladle. She could mention that later. Much later. Possibly never.

"I am proud of you, although you might live to regret it."

"Oh?" She asked, taking the first bite and gloating a little. It was delicious, and the recipe be damned, she had added her own touches and was immensely proud of the fact that it was delicious. And not the least bit burned.

"I might come to expect meals."

"You'd actually let me play without supervision?"

"Sometimes."

She sputtered.

He laughed, a full rich sound that made her blush and take a sip of her wine. They ate in relative silence, the only noises being that of appreciation and their forks tapping on the plate occasionally mixing with the music that had been playing. She had wanted to turn it off before he had arrived, even considered stepping out of the kitchen for a moment to cut off the player, but felt that leaving the kitchen was akin to leaving the dinner table, and rude. Not to mention she was enjoying watching him savor the dish she'd made, almost preening as he gave her a grateful look every few bites.

Once they had finished she poured them both another glass of wine and rinsed off the plates, putting them in the dishwasher before turning back to him.

"Close your eyes."

"Is there a particular reason for this?"

"Would I ask if there wasn't?"

He closed his eyes.

She walked over to the fridge and pulled out the box she'd gotten from a local pastry shop after agonizing over the decision for almost an hour. Opening it and lifting the decadent cheesecake out, she rifled through the bag on the counter and pulled out the small box of tiny candles, trying to remember if she'd actually settled on a number. Opting to go with one, because she had no idea how many centuries he'd lived, she stuck it in the center of a mound of thing curls of chocolate and drizzled caramel and used the cheap plastic lighter to light it.

When she sat it in front of him, she stepped back, wondering if her idea hadn't been childish after all.

"You can look."

He opened his eyes and looked down at the cake.

"Are we celebrating?"

"Inu Yasha said you were born in summer," She commented quietly. "I figured out of everyone I know, you deserve a birthday." She said the words so quickly it was a miracle they didn't tangle and end up a garbled mess, but he seemed to understand.

"I have never celebrated my birthday before," He admitted quietly. "And Inu Yasha was correct, I only know that I was born in the summer."

"Well," She told him, flushing and feeling a bit silly, a bit embarrassed. "Blow out the candle and make a wish."

He leaned forward and gently blew, the candle flame puttering out and smoke rising into the air.

"Thank you," He murmured.

"You might not be saying that in a minute," She warned, wanting to lift the strangely serious, solemn tension in the air.

"Should I be worried? It's not poisoned is it?" He joked.

"No, but I might be forced to do something drastic if you don't cut me a slice."

He laughed again, and she realized that it was an addictive sound, a rare one, and that he'd done it twice in one day. She pulled down two small plates and got them both new forks, but when she reached for the knife he shook his head and grabbed one of the forks, taking a bite right from the cake. Giggling, she put the saucers back and took a bite from the cake, forced to lean over the counter.

The heavy chocolate mixed perfectly with the wine, and even if the cake itself looked like it had been scavenged from, bites taken from random spots, it was delicious and she knew Sesshoumaru was enjoying himself. Being such a small cake, it was completely gone before they both leaned back and put their forks on the tray it had come on.

"So what was your wish?" She finally asked, curious.

"I thought if you said it aloud it wouldn't come true."

"It doesn't count if you tell your best friend," She joked.

"Hnn. A dance."

"A dance? Like, from a stripper?" She teased.

"From an woman oblivious to her audience."

"So a stripper."

He rolled his eyes, another unusual occurrence, and walked around the counter and into the kitchen itself, taking her hand and pulling her to him.

"You hate this music."

"I can adapt."

"Oh really?" She challenged, allowing him to spin her.

The song picked up it's pace, and they danced through the kitchen, a strange fusion of his technical dancing skills and her made up moves. It wasn't to say that it was graceful, because it wasn't. And she knew that she wasn't keeping rhythm, but he didn't seem to mind. She stepped on his toes, earning a pained grimace, and apologized profusely, and he called her clumsy, earning a huff that only made him laugh again.

She grew increasingly silly in an attempt to earn more laughter, and by the time the song ended she was breathless, cheeks flush from her exertions.

The next song wasn't quite so fast, but not quite slow either. He took both her hands and tried to show her one of the dances his friend had taught him, and she watched her feet, laughing and feeling far too cheerful to be embarrassed.

"You're intentionally making mistakes," He accused.

"I'm not," She defended, finally looking up from her feet. He was smiling, a real, genuine, rare smile. "I can't help it that your dances are so weird."

"And yours aren't?" He chuckled.

She stuck her tongue out, tightening her grip on his hands so that he couldn't try to pinch it.

He leaned forward, teeth clicking together in an exaggerated mockery of snapping, nose almost touching hers. Her tongue slipped back into her mouth and she stopped, realizing she could feel his exhalations over her lips. Comfort and friendship aside, the widening of his eyes, almost imperceptible even with his proximity, mirrored her own, and she could feel the boundary, suddenly a very physical thing, that they had erected between them.

The world stilled, and his hands tightened a fraction, suddenly warm and vivid. The gold of his eyes deepened, swirled steadily, drawing her in.

"Though I go to you ceaselessly along dream paths, the sum of those trysts is less than a single glimpse granted in the waking world," He murmured softly, mouth moving to brush against hers, the words vibrating over her lips and skin.

His lips were warm and soft, and he tasted like chocolate and wine and warm, liquid fire that burned her lips. Searingly hot, the tip of his tongue brushed against the seam, requested permission. In her dumb shock her mouth opened and granted access, the dizzy heat of him pressing against her. Only half aware of the counter at her back, she tilted her head, deepened the kiss.

Overwhelming and overwhelmed, she let him lead the kiss, felt his hands cupping her cheeks, threading through her hair as the softness of it grew harder, the request becoming longing hunger. Her hands smoothed up over his chest, felt his heartbeat thundering beneath her palm. His lips pulled away and she gasped in breath only to have his mouth slant over hers again, tongue sliding against her own and sending a thrill through her body. His body tensed, shuddered beneath her hands, a harsh breath exhaled from his nose and pulsing against her skin.

Fangs nipped her lip, and a groan vibrated against her teeth before he was pulling away, forehead pressed against hers as they struggled to breathe.

"Kagome," He sighed, lips brushing against her own.

And the heat, the coiling tightness, shattered like ice, cutting through the breathless, heady drunkenness. Panic, as dizzying as his kiss, swamped her senses, threatened to choke her.

"I, I need to-" She stuttered, pushing at his chest. "I need to think. I'm sorry," She finished in a whisper, watching him step back. Feeling like a deer that had sighted the hunter and been given only a moment to run, she slipped past him, ignoring the surprise and hurt that turned the hazy amber into cold gold.

Running up the stairs and into her room, she flinched as the door slammed shut, leaned against it, heart still thundering in her chest, threatening to beat out of it, rending flesh and bone. Something twisted painfully in her gut, overbearing guilt needling her senses.

The front door opened and closed loudly enough for her to hear, leaving her alone in the apartment to think.

Except she didn't really want to anymore.

AN: I bet you hate me right now, don't you? Anyway, the poem is by Ono No Komachi, who created truly stunning work.

This marks the results of the Kiss Contest. Today, All Or Nothing Day, is July 26th. This day was chosen months and months and months ago for this, and I know you've all been waiting patiently. The bad news is, you'll have to wait a little longer for the resolution of this story. The good news is, you won't have to wait terribly long.