Disclaimer: If I owned Inu-Yasha, I think I'd be a lot richer than I currently am. (Ten bucks to my name, baby! XD)
Author's Note: Hiya!. (Ducks as a bunch of rotting veggies are thrown at her)
. . . All right, I deserved that. Admittedly, it has been a while. I know, I know, I know. (And if I didn't, you guys sure informed me otherwise in all of the reviews I've been getting. . .) My apologies to everyone who has been desperately waiting for an update—I realize I'm evil. And continuing with that thought, I have some bad news:
Headlines: A Hollywood Engagement will most likely never be updated. It may, in the far future, but honestly, I'm kinda sick of the idea. It just feels. . . old. You know? (Well. . . no, probably not. . . most of you will most likely hate me forever after reading that little announcement. . .) Sorry, in any case. . . though I know that doesn't help much. T.T
Anyway, now that that's out of the way, let's start the story, shall we? A slightly cliché fic inspired by the little cold I've had for the past couple days. . .
Just Like the Movies
It was, without a doubt, the worst day of her life. Or at least, the worst thing that could have happened to her on that particular morning. More likely the latter. But that still made the situation pretty bad. After all—comparatively—, it was worse, (she decided,) than waking to find her nose as leaky as the kitchen faucet; even worse than the discovery of the strange hallow-ness in her right ear; worse still than the dry scratchy feeling which clung to the back of her mouth. (And considering all three horrors had been present and account for when she opened her eyes that morning, that was saying something.)
Pulling her checkered quilt a few inches closer to her chin, Kagome tried—and failed—to release a little groan. 'Why today?' she wondered despairingly, glaring at the cheery sky beyond her bedroom window. Why did she have to get sick today?
Why did she have to lose her voice now?
Releasing a soundless sigh, the girl pushed herself out of bed—even she had to admit she felt good enough to walk— and began to pull off her pjs, mentally cursing her bad fortune. 'Why does it have to be today!'
Oh, no, it couldn't have been Tuesday, when she had to give that speech in class; one that she hadn't been prepared for. Nor could it have been Thursday, to get her out of seeing that corny American romance movie with Eri, Yuka, and Ayumi. No, no, no—it had to be Friday, the day when—
"You ready to go yet, bitch?"
. . . Inu-Yasha was coming to bring her back.
Kagome felt a growl wedge itself in her useless throat, about to whip around and instinctively tell the hanyou off for being so rude— when the dismay of being voiceless dropped a peg on her list of concerns. 'Oh crap—!' Her face flamed, yanking her flannel nightshirt off of the bed in order to block her panties-clad body from view, sapphire orbs crackling with rage.
Inu-Yasha—who had comprehended his partner's lack of dress mere moments before she did— felt himself flush fushua, eyes wide; whipping his head determinedly the other way in a fashion which clearly screamed: I, er, saw nothing! "Wha—what the hell!" he managed to stammer, avoiding her gaze with all of his might; shoulders already tense, waiting for his inevitable punishment. 'My back won't heal this time, I'm sure of it—!' "Don't look so angry at me! I wasn't the one stripping!"
"You could have used the door" the miko raged in response— or, at least, tried to. As it was, the only sound that left her lips was a small, breathy squeak. A squeak that, unfortunately, wasn't even slightly intimidating. She would have had more luck trying to communicate with a hamster. And though 'bright' wasn't one of the words one would use to describe Inu-Yasha in a normal circumstance, even he noticed this retort was a strange one; consequently shooting his friend an odd look. "Hu—? Ow!" His head flew backwards as a trashcan connected with it, giving Kagome enough time to slip into a summer dress. "Shit—what the hell was THAT for, woman!"
What was that for—? She tried to reply with an icy: "For walking in on me, of course, you dog!" . . . but found that the words just wouldn't come. Instead, she coughed out something that sounded more like the honk of a dying seal than any answer. Her cheeks grew hot; palm connecting loudly with her forehead. 'Dammit!'
"Well?" Shaking his silvery mane, Inu straightened; self-pityingly massaging his abused temple as he considered the teen before him, tawny pools narrowed pensively. "I repeat: What the fuck," he muttered, sounding annoyed, "was THAT sound for?" She simply glared at him, face maroon and fingers self-consciously clenching the blue cloth of her skirt. ". . . Well?" he pressed, dropping his hand; lip curling. "Don't you have anything to say?"
Of course she did, but regardless, she said nothing—simply because she couldn't. So, in order to make her point, she 'humph'ed and spun on her heel, crossing her arms with her back to the boy (mainly because she couldn't bare to see his smirk when he realized, yet again, what a weak and pitiful human she was); vaguely gesturing to her neck.
. . . this meant nothing to Inu-Yasha. He stared blankly at the priestess reincarnate, utterly baffled. Was she really that mad? Even too mad to SIT him? (Was that even POSSIBLE?) C'mon— it wasn't like he'd never seen her in underwear before. Hell, he'd seen her naked in that Peach moron's palace! Why was she being such a prick about this? "Kagome?" he tried again, a little softer than before. His hand hesitated by her shoulder, then fell limply to his side. "Kagome, I—er. . . that is. . ." He glanced hopefully in her direction, but amazingly— she hadn't budged. Good God, was she really gonna make him say the words? Inu-Yasha huffed furiously, cheeks flaming—she knew that he was sorry! Didn't that count? "Geez! What's your problem!" he spat out of frustration, though he was inwardly smacking himself. ('Fuck it! That wasn't what I wanted to say!') "And you call ME immature! But fine—FINE! If you're not gonna talk to me, then I'm not gonna talk to you, either!"
And with that, he spun on a dime, aquatinting her back with his own; hands stuffed into his overly large red sleeves.
". . ." Kagome—who hadn't really been paying attention to the boy's ranting (he did it a lot, after all)— glanced towards the sky, expression clearly screaming 'Why me?' as she dug around in her pocket for a pen. There was a sketchbook on her desk right there. . . she could spell it out for him (literally). . .
". . ." On the other side of the invisible wall, Inu-Yasha was twitching. Fingers, eyebrows, lips—he could barely take this. . . Kagome never gave him the cold shoulder! Never! She was more a girl of action and words. Clearly he'd crossed some line this time—but what? It wasn't like he had come a day early or anything. . . sure, he'd walked in on her dressing, but that had happened before (perhaps not often enou—no! No thinking that!). . . The hanyou glowered. He didn't deserve this!
A clock in the corner ticked loudly. . . one second. . . two seconds. . . three seconds. . .
'Ah!' The blue-eyed teen grinned victoriously, fingers wrapping around the thick sharpie marker she knew she had. Reaching out, she managed to snatch up the paper at exactly the same time as—
"ARGH! I can't TAKE this anymore!" Whipping around so quickly that he nearly lost his balance, Inu-Yasha grabbed Kagome's shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "What the hell did I do this time? What's wrong? Whatever it was, I didn't mea—n. . . to. . . what. . . ?"
Blinking stupidly, he glanced from the girl's deadpan face to the little sign she was holding up (the one which whapped him roughly over the head moments later): I've lost my voice, stupid!
What the—? "Lost your voice. . . ?" The boy wrinkled his nose, looking annoyed. (And feeling a bit stupid for nearly apologizing unnecessarily. 'I think I'm going soft!') "Well go find it, woman!"
And that was when the writing pad came crashing over his ears. "OW! Dammit—!" But he fell silent when Kagome began scribbling again, brow furrowed in irritation.
Not literally! the paper proclaimed as the miko rolled her eyes, capping her marker. It means my throat got really sore and sick and I just can't talk. Or, rather, you can't hear me when I talk. It'll come back in a few days.
Inu-Yasha's eyes widened, a note of concern creeping (without his consent, of course) into his voice. "You're sick. . . ?" he echoed, reaching out to press a hand to her forehead. Funny, she didn't look or act or smell very ill—not like last time, anyway. But Kagome didn't lie, so. . .
She smiled slightly, gently batting his fingers away before scribbling another response. Not terribly. Except for my throat, I'm fine. Well, and my ear. . . but it's no big deal. There was a slight pause, and then the squeaking of the sharpie started again. So we can go back today, if you want. Just let me grab some medicine and we'll be on our way.
Go back? When she had just admitted to being unwell? The half-demon frowned. "No way! Not if you're sick—you'll contaminate everyone!" He smirked to show he was only kidding, but Kagome remained un-amused.
I'm serious! I feel great! she argued via sketchbook. And stop teasing me—just because I can't uses the s-word on you, doesn't mean you'll be getting any slack! The girl scowled dangerously (or so she thought) to emphasize her point. But really, in Inu-Yasha's eyes, she only ended up looking cute.
Not that he'd tell her that.
His eyebrow arched. "Oh really?" he snorted, completely unfazed. "You plan on makin' me wear a tight leash, do you?" A chortle fell from his sneering mouth, hands planting themselves on his hips. "You and what army? Far as I can see it, I'm going to be having a very relaxing break from you and your whining. . ." Stretching with an air of cockiness, the hanyou flopping beside a slumbering Buyo on the bed; sending the teen a look that clearly declared her challenge had been accepted. Kagome bit her bottom lip, bracing herself—
As Inu-Yasha lifted the sleeping (or comatose, it was hard to tell which) kitty by the front legs and began to make him dance.
. . .Well, it could have been worse. He could have tried reading her diary again (. . .). In fact, this was barely a problem (in her eyes, anyway. Buyo, if awake, probably would have disagreed.) And admittedly, Kag could have just left him to play— the half-demon wouldn't really hurt her cat; he was only doing this to get a rise out of her, after all. But. . . she just couldn't stand to disappoint. (Besides, she had a reputation to protect, here.) Inu-Yasha, she quickly scrawled, you know you're not supposed to tease Buyo like that! He almost bit your finger off, last time! Well, not really. . . but she had been forced to show him how to use a band-aid. Nodding to herself nonetheless, the school girl lifted the sign. . .
. . . and was completely ignored. No, he didn't even glance her way. Instead, the boy chose to whistle a little tune that sounded strangely like 'My Will.'
Kagome felt her eye twitch, coughing out a grunting little peep in an attempt to secure his attention. It didn't work, if his yawn was anything to go by. Her cheeks puffed out in frustration. . .
. . . As she chucked the writing pad at his head.
Unfortunately, however, he was expecting this little stunt, and deftly caught the book before it even touched his noggin. "I think you dropped this," he purred in a mockingly sweet voice, tossing the note back.
Steam nearly shot from her ears. 'Oh, that little—!'
"You know, Kagome," he interrupted in that same evilly cheerful voice, "you're looking a bit miffed. If something is bothering you, tell me." Buyo meowed loudly (as if in agreement) as he was finally jostled from his nap. (Being dangled upside down by a paw will do that to an animal. . .)
Absolutely furious, the young woman stormed forward, snatched her sketchpad off the ground, and grabbed Inu-Yasha's forelock, giving it a nasty yank. The boy yelped, locking eyes with the seething teen—but soon managed to re-plaster that patronizing little smile on his face. "Yes, Kagome?" he inquired innocently. "Spit it out. . . or has Buyo got your tongue?"
She smacked him; fist bopping the top of his head hard enough to leave a small welt. Or would have, had the hanyou's head not been quite so hard. In any case—whether it was painful or not— Inu-Yasha remained infuriatingly indifferent. "Well, ow," he drawled, resting his chin against the back of his hand, staring nonchalantly up at Kagome. "I think that was uncalled for, bitch."
Her temper flared. Bitch? DON'T CALL ME THAT! she ordered, jabbing repeatedly at the words with a shaking finger.
The hanyou cocked his head, reading the paper twice. "Call you what?" he then asked lightly. "Bitch?"
The sketchbook hit the ground with a loud SMACK, Kagome nodding frantically.
"Yes?" he vocalized, a heartlessly humored smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth. "Yes, call you a bitch?" A mocking eyebrow cocked. "Well, if you insist. . . Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. . ."
An indescribable sort of whimpering shriek managed to claw its way out of Kagome's throat; azure pools flashing as her face grew increasingly pink with rage. Fire nearly began dancing on her fingertips. Stop it! her expression clearly raged. Stop it right now! This isn't funny!
Oh, but Inu-Yasha begged to differ. "What's the matter, bitch?" he taunted, pushing a strand of raven hair behind her ear when it slipped over her shoulder and began tickling his nose. "I thought that's what you wanted. If you want otherwise, you'll have to tell me so. I'm not Goshinki—I can't read minds. Ah—!" he chuckled, catching both of her hands when they shot forward to cover his mouth. "Now that's just not very nice. . ." the silver locked boy scolded pleasantly. "You really can be such a bitch."
That was it. She was going to kill him. Kagome snarled noiselessly, utterly enraged. 'He's enjoying this, that bastard!' she roared in her mind, insides churning and curling with fury as the boy began singing a doctored version of 'Kyle's mom's a bitch' (with guess-who's name in Kyle's mom's place. All right—no more South Park for Souta, OR Inu-Yasha!). God dammit! What the hell could she do to make him shut up? She'd tried talking (or, rather, writing), she'd tried physical abuse. . . she couldn't sit him, even if she wanted to—and there was no way she'd be able to pull her hands from his grasp. . .
Where did that leave her? Listening to 'Kagome's a Bitch' all day? Her jaw set, nose and forehead scrunching in anger as Inu-Yasha began the refrain again. . . what could she do?. . . and again. . . she had no hands or weapons or spells!. . . and again. . . Wait. . . and again. . . in the movies—like the one her friends made he see— didn't they always. . . and again. . . But no—that wouldn't work in real life! And besides she. . . and again. . . she. . . and aga—
'Oh screw it!'
And with that, she dove forward— and jammed her mouth to his own in an unsettlingly deep kiss.
The hanyou's eyes sprung open; floored by shock as he nearly toppled off the bed; all thought and reason slipping out some nonexistent door. Her tongue breaking forcibly past his lips, the girl inwardly smirked as Inu-Yasha started to respond—
Before pulling quickly away, fully aware and pleased by the expressionless, glazed eyes of the baffled boy, laughing at his gapping mouth and slackened fingers. Wow. . . just like the movies!
'Well,' Kagome smirked happily, slapping invisible dust from her hands, '. . . that shut him up.'