Title: Hard Candy

Author: Sandra

Category: Humor, romance, smut.

Rating: Very R.

Summary: [Miroku/Kagome] Stuck in a village full of lecherous men, Kagome's only protection is...a slightly...inebriated monk. And—and chocolate! Both of which seem eager to melt in her, erm...hands.

Disclaimer: Naraku owns me. And NBC owns Scrubs.

Author's Note: What? Oh. You're looking for plot? And canon? Hee! Silly bunnies, tricks are for kids and hookers. But I will save you, little bunnies!

Feedback: Well, duh.

Etc: A gratuitous thank you for those 1000 reviews. You're all on crack, folks.

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Warning: Only two parts. One: they talk. A lot. Two: they shag. A lot.

Addendum: No, really. They shag a lot. I'm very sorry.

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Plot: You realize, of course, I will have my revenge?

Author: Yep.

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Final Warning: Irredeemable, immature, and inappropriate. But look! No crushing of spirits! ^_^;

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Setting: Early.

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"There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable."

—Mark Twain

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One:

Backward Pawn: A pawn that has fallen behind its comrades, and thus can no longer be supported or guarded by other pawns.

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Inuyasha fucking hated him.

He hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

And when he found the bastard again, he was going to show him exactly how much he hated him.

Well, amended Inuyasha furiously, if he found him again.

"Inuyasha?" asked the background noise, sounding suspiciously like Sango. "Where the hell are we?"

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes, growling and drowning in muddy seaweed.

"Because, as much as I appreciate your... lovely company," mumbled Sango, curling her little fists in confusion as Kirara's tails tangled around a particularly nasty swamp thicket, "I'd like to get back to the village."

Inuyasha twitched, swatting at a mosquito.

"Because—because we can't just leave Kagome-chan alone with that—that..."

Inuyasha's eyes flashed red.

"...um," finished Sango, blushing. "On second thought, I'm sure Kagome-chan will be fine!"

Inuyasha stared at her, one eye threatening to pop out, the other covered with brown, sticky gunk.

"Shippou-chan wouldn't—wouldn't—" began Sango hotly, but Inuyasha interrupted her.

With an outraged, violently enraged growl.

The fox fucking DIES.

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*

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"Higher!" squealed Shippou gleefully.

"Any higher, Shippou-chan," chided Kagome, "and you'll be riding a satellite."

The little kitsune came crashing down into her arms once again, snuggling adorably. "What's a satellite, Kagome?"

Kagome melted, stuffing her precious little demon with pocky and horror stories about fallen orbiters and—

"Shippou-chan... are you sure Inuyasha said it was okay to leave the village by ourselves?"

Shippou choked on a particularly loaded pocky, squirming. "Oh, uhm, yes?"

Kagome paused. Something about that didn't sound quite—

"He said we should go spend some quality time together," said Shippou earnestly, pounding one little fist to his chest. "Just you and me. Because we never get to be alone anymore."

Kagome's heart fluttered happily.

"Okay, Shippou-chan," she murmured, hugging the stuffing out of him. "But... are you sure Sango-chan and Inuyasha will be okay by themsel—"

"Yes!" chirped Shippou, suspiciously flushed. "It's just a shard. They'll get it and be back by tomorrow." He fidgeted with Kagome's little red necktie, then added, "And we can have fun without them!"

Kagome nodded, kissing the top of his fluffy little head. "You're right, Shippou-chan! I should stop worrying and just concentrate on you (Shippou beamed)—...but are you sure they won't need me?"

Shippou grumbled. "Yes."

"But—but how will they find the shard?" asked Kagome worriedly.

"I told them where it was," said Shippou nervously, his eyes darting around and his fluffy tail twitching.

"Yes, but how did you know about—"

"Look, Kagome!" shrieked Shippou loudly, jumping out of her arms. "Butterflies!"

Kagome, now nearly fluent in Shippou-speak, giggled, shook her head, then helped the little kitsune chase butterflies, defeat the evil red crayon, feed squirrels, and inhale a dangerous amount of sugar for the better part of the afternoon. Every so often, she'd fend off a foreboding sort of general paranoia, assuring herself that everything was totally fine. Inuyasha and Sango could take care of themselves, and... and...

Where was Miroku?

Last she'd seen of him—an incredibly long week ago—he was behaving... oddly, all tense and irritable and he'd even snapped at her once, the jerk, for startling him when he was painting ofuda and she'd only wanted to bring him lunch and what was his problem?

Kagome puffed away a stubborn curl.

And worse yet, according to Shippou, Miroku had been gone for that entire week she'd spent at home. As a matter of fact, everyone had been gone when she'd returned this morning, sleepy and thinking about Pataxó Indians, Strontium's atomic mass, and subordinating conjunctions. Shippou—alone—had greeted her at the well, bouncy and jittery, and dragged her away from the village, suggesting a spontaneous fieldtrip.

To which she'd agreed because... Shippou.

But why—why would Inuyasha and Sango have left without her? And—and... Miroku wasn't prone to taking off and staying away for such prolonged periods of time, so why would he—

"Wah, Kagome!" cried the little kitsune suddenly, rushing around madly and trying to pick up his cache of crayons. "It's raining! Why is it raining? It can't rain! Not today!"

And as the first few raindrops descended from the heavens, Kagome scooped Shippou up in her arms, then ran for the nearest shelter, tottering precariously under the weight of her gigantic backpack. Eventually, a small village came into view, and both Kagome and Shippou gave a grateful cry of delight.

Soon, they were crossing the muddy yard, fleeing to the center of the village and a large, wooden house, several stories high. Kagome threw a quick glance at a lopsided sign that said, "Pleasure Palace," paused suspiciously, and was promptly pelted by a strong torrent.

"Kagome!" wailed Shippou. "I'm coooold!"

So Kagome pushed the wary little voice as far back as she could, and stumbled into the inn.

"Umm..." whispered Shippou, scurrying to hide in Kagome's backpack. "Scary."

Blinking the rain out of her eyes, Kagome looked around. "What's scary, Shippou-ch—"

An older man, stationed at one of the corridors, was staring at her oddly, running a hand through his thinning hair and winking at her.

Kagome took a step back, tugging her wet skirt down. "Shippou-chan, you better stay hidden. They might be afraid of demons."

Shippou fidgeted anxiously, squirming inside her backpack. "I don't think we should stay here, Kagome!"

Two men, wearing oddly loose yukatas, passed by, raising their eyebrows suggestively and slapping each other's behinds.

Kagome blushed, her eyes widening. "What the heck's wrong with this pla—"

"Ah!" exclaimed a hoarse voice. "Welcome to... ey. You're a woman."

Kagome glanced at a makeshift counter she assumed was a Sengoku Jidai-style reception, and bit her lip nervously. "Um, yes. I—"

The man behind the counter stepped out. He was short and fat and oddly agitated. "Are you looking for work?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his sleeves. "You don't look like you would be." He cocked his head, gaze distant. "Then again, you never can tell..."

"Er... no," interrupted Kagome delicately, not quite sure why she felt as though dozens of people were staring at her back. "We're... I mean, I'm just here for the night."

"Oh!" said the innkeeper, clapping his hands. "I see!" he tittered, and scampered off to pick up a massive velvety book. He flipped it open, quill poised over a blank page. "Who ordered you, girl?"

Kagome cleared her throat uncomfortably.

What’s this guy talking about?

"No one o-ordered me," she stammered, twisting her hands. "I'd just like a room."

The innkeeper's head snapped up. Blinking rapidly, he closed the book with a heavy thump. "A room?" he asked as though she'd requested a Playstation. "For yourself? To sleep in?"

Kagome tried mighty hard not to fall over. "Well, yes. I mean, isn't that what a room is for—?"

"Oy, kanrinin-san!" shouted a man, waving a large sake jar. "Is the pretty one for me?" he asked, then collapsed into a potted bush.

The innkeeper sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let me get this straight," he addressed Kagome, dismissing two unattractive women from his side. "You want to stay here?"

Not anymore! "I-I guess so, kanrinin-sama."

"All right," mumbled the innkeeper distractedly, grabbing a candelabra. "Follow me, then."

Swallowing hard, Kagome glanced at the top of her backpack, where Shippou's little blue bow was poking out, then straightened and followed the innkeeper through a dark, creepy corridor.

She tried very, very hard not to notice the large, rambunctious halls filled with seriously drunk men and embarrassingly unkempt women. She was trying so hard to ignore the odd obscenities, in fact, that she smacked into three paper lanterns, the innkeeper, and two giggling men (who seemed quite pleased to be rubbing up against her) before reaching her destination—a small, bare room with no windows or doors.

"That will be ten Toraisen," said the innkeeper, sticking out his palm and ducking an incoming bottle. "Or five Shichusen. We do not discriminate!"

"WHAT?" screamed Kagome, looking around and blushing. "I—I don't have any money!"

The innkeeper's eyes grew large. "Do you have goats, then?" he asked shakily, tearing up.

Kagome choked, knees weak. "No!"

"I can't let you stay here for free!" wailed the innkeeper, pointing at the open little soiree down the corridor.

"But I can't go out in that rain!" wailed Kagome, pointing at one of the exits.

"But I can't let you threaten the purity of my enterprise and—" The innkeeper gave a tiny whine—looked at Kagome, head to toe and back again, glanced at her in her wet clothes, shivering in front of him like a lost kitten—then gave in. "Be gone by morning!" he grumbled, and disappeared down one of the corridors.

"Kagome," sang Shippou as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, poking his head out of her backpack. "I'm huuungry."

Kagome giggled bewilderedly. "And I'm hallucinating."

"What?" asked Shippou with a worried look, wrapping his little paws around her neck.

"Nothing, Shippou-chan," she replied resolutely, then entered the room and barricaded the door with a blanket, grumbling about having only one candle and no soft mattress and no sanity.

Two hours of playing a tattered version of Sorry! with Shippou and three Juicy-Juices later, Kagome was tapping her fingers on her knees, watching the little kitsune sleep, covered with empty pocky boxes and candy wrappers. The noise outside—both the rain and the... partying—had died out a while back, so Kagome was relatively certain it was safe to go wash her face. Somewhere.

Clad only in her nightgown, she rose purposefully and glimpsed into the unlit corridor, pushing the heavy blanket away.

What kind of a weird inn was this anyway?

Bah!

What did it matter? She needed to wash her face or she'd never get to sleep. And there had to be some kind of water... thing somewhere. Surely these peoplebathed!

She glanced at the corridor, then at her nightgown with uncertainty. She was going to change into her uniform and run for it, but the huge, scratched oak doors across from her room burst open, and several lively figures walked out, limbs entwined.

Kagome's eyes widened as a small gasp escaped her lips.

She bolted back into her room, pacing like a caged animal.

"C'mon, Kagome!" she cheered stubbornly, shaking her fist at the blanketed doorway. "You can do this! Three minutes, tops!"

She glanced at the door, straining her ears.

Nothing.

Discreetly, she poked her head out, scanning both sides of the dark corridor.

Absolutely nothing.

Giddy, Kagome grabbed a candle and ran for it. Because—

What's the worst that could happen, eh?

Inspired by her sudden burst of logic, Kagome braved the dark corridors in search of a well or a spring or a—

"Houshi-sama! Hurry!"

Kagome jumped, dropping her candle.

Someone's muffled laughter arose somewhere to her left (or was it her right? Oh, God, she was so lost!), so Kagome quickly looked around in the dark for the candle she'd dropped. Shivering, she bent to pick it up and—

"This way, houshi-sama!"

A slow, familiar groan of agreement.

Kagome froze.

Oh, um. That'd almost sounded like—

Nah!

The coy giggling and the incessant rustle of heavy cloth both died out instantly (just like Kagome's traitorous candle), so Kagome took a deep, steadying breath and plastered herself against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as realization slowly sunk in.

Of all the houses in the village...

...she just had to end up in one of ill refute!

"Okay," she told herself firmly. "Just go back for Shippou-chan and... and... eeeeeeeek!"

A tiny little mouse pressed his little snout to her cheek, then quickly withdrew into a rotting strip of wood three centimeters from her nose.

Kagome lost it.

In a heartbeat, she was running, barefoot, through the dank corridors, pulse racing and sense of direction completely gone.

But there! There, ahead of her, soft light! She was saved! She was safe! She was—

Skidding to a halt.

"Ah? Kagome-sama!"

Kagome tried to stop, honest she did, but her feet continued on without her, propelling her through the air and slamming her into—

Miroku.

Mortified and aghast, Kagome jumped back, covering her mouth in shock. "Miroku-sama! Miroku-sama—what are you doing h—!"

A shiny fluff of dark hair peeked over Miroku's right shoulder.

And another over his left.

"Eek!" yelped Kagome, clutching her nightgown, eyes widening in horror.

"Ah!" Miroku rushed to explain, stuffing the women under his robes. "I assure you, Kagome-sama, it's not what it looks like!"

Kagome exploded. "You—you don't have two women hiding under your robes!?"

Sheepishly, Miroku rubbed the back of his neck. "No."

Kagome balled up her fists, seething. "What do you mean, no? I can SEE—"

Miroku raised an arm, coughing uncomfortably. "Three."

Horrified, Kagome stumbled back, hand over her dying heart.

"What," she chanted to no one in particular, though the Chinese scroll on the wall looked most sympathetic. "What could they possibly see in him? What? What?"

Miroku frowned slightly.

"That's just so... so... against, well, physiology, for one, and... and French films and oh, my God, where would he get the energy? I mean, you read about stuff like this, but you don't think it really happens, especially not to men of God and I mean, he couldn't possibly—not all of them—in the same night and—" babbled Kagome absently, waving her hands around with an embarrassed little blush creeping up her neck.

"Kagome-sama," reasoned Miroku humbly, detaching one of the women from his arm, "first of all, you need to practice your internal monologue, and second, I'm merely helping these young ladies with a... a spell. Yes... a spell!"

All three women looked up at him blankly.

Miroku pursed his lips together, and cocked an eyebrow with a tilt of his head. "I was... called to this village purely to fulfill this dignified purpose. Nothing more," he recited pointedly.

"Oh!" said one of the women, nuzzling Miroku's cheek. "Yes. A spell."

"A wonderful new spell!" swooned another, draping herself across Miroku's arm.

"One we are most eager to learn!" added a third, sighing into Miroku's robes.

The Chinese scroll on the wall burst into flames.

A deadly glare from Kagome was its only eulogy.

"Oh, uhm," blinked one of the women. "Houshi-sama, why is that strange girl... glowing?"

An odd, pleased flicker of surprise flashed in Miroku's eyes, but Kagome blinked, and it was gone.

"You're unbelievable!" she shrieked wildly, stormed over to where Miroku stood, and poked his stupid, greedy chest. "I thought that maybe after that whole mantis demon thing, you—and Sango—and that you'd stop!"

Miroku was watching her strangely, with an amused, intrigued little smile playing about his lips, so she continued, in a bewildered, oblivious manner. "I tried. I tried to figure you out, but I can't! You're just... a mystery! No. No, you're a mystery wrapped in an enigma stuffed inside a—a crème brule pocky. Yeah. Yeah, you're crème brule pocky! Six packs per box, five sticks per pack!"

The three women exchanged glances.

"Well," began one with a pitying sigh, warily eyeing Kagome. "Farewell, houshi-sama!"

"You're cute," added another, untangling herself from Miroku's robes with a sorrowful cry, "but not cute enough to die for."

"Good luck," finished the third, trying to inconspicuously point her chin at a pair of axes resting innocently on the opposite wall. "We will visit your tomb if they ever find your body."

And then, all three were gone.

Wistfully, Miroku watched them sashay out of the corridor, mesmerized by their swaying hips. With a sigh, he turned to Kagome, shoulders slumping dejectedly.

"Innocent," he sulked, gripping his staff.

"Were you ever?" mumbled Kagome, crossing her arms petulantly as her anger, oddly enough, instantly receded.

He's safe.

Miroku offered her a lopsided grin. "Well. Not as innocent as you are."

Kagome blushed helplessly, feeling decidedly insulted. "What? I'm not—not... I killed an ant!"

Miroku chuckled merrily. "You accidentally dropped your backpack on it. And you cried for an hour after it. And you gave it a burial."

Kagome's bottom lip curled with a whimper. "Well, the other ants were looking at me like they thought I'd killed it on purpose—so—I had to!"

Miroku, thankfully, said nothing.

Kagome resolved to act her age.

Or... er, a little older.

"Goodbye, Miroku-sama. Try not to die," she mumbled, waving over her shoulder, and trying not to trip over an untied sash (clearly possessed by a vengeful spirit as this was definitely not the time to make an... even bigger fool of herself).

"What are you doing here?" asked Miroku suddenly, as though the thought had only now occurred to him.

Kagome whirled around, scrunching up her nose. "Well, if you must know," she huffed self-importantly, "Shippou-chan and I are staying here for the night."

Miroku's eyes widened in what almost seemed like concern.

"You're alone?" he asked, taking a step closer. "Here?"

Kagome frowned. "With Shippou-chan."

"Just Shippou?"

"Yes."

"Without Inuyasha?" asked Miroku, bewildered.

"Yes...?"

"You're here with Shippou—without Inuyasha?"

Kagome scowled. "I can do stuff without him, you know! He's not the boss of me!"

Miroku cocked an eyebrow.

Kagome's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Actually, he and Sango are looking for a shard, and they didn't... need me to come with them."

"Ah." Miroku tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Are you certain they're not just having a... passionate rendezvous?"

Kagome twitched violently. "Not everyone uses their free time to make babies, you pervert!"

Surprisingly, Miroku chuckled, patting her head. "Kagome-sama, need I remind you that my main purpose in life is to continue my noble lineage?" he asked brightly, then lowered his voice to barely a whisper, but Kagome could still vaguely make out the words.

"Before I die, that is."

Oh.

An incredible surge of guilt lanced through her.

"Miroku-sama, I'm sorry," she murmured compassionately, reaching out to comfort him with an instinct born out of habit.

Oddly enough, Miroku seemed rather eager to accept her sympathy, quickly stretching his arms out to embrace her.

Kagome whimpered into his chest.

God, she was so freakishly inconsiderate and stupid and—

Wait.

"Those were geishas!" she exploded, swatting at his evil chest.

"Were they really?" asked Miroku, looking no older than five with that puzzled look on his face.

Kagome took a deep breath, pushing him off and away.

"And geishas don't... they have... agh! They don't have babies!"

Miroku paused.

"Oh," he said, perfectly calm. "I... wasn't aware you were aware of that, Kagome-sama."

"Well, I am! Aware of that!" she fumed, then tried to compose herself before she strangled him with her possessed sash. "Out of excuses now, eh? Eh?" she asked smugly, crossing her arms with a dignified pout.

"No."

"No?" grumbled Kagome incredulously. "No? Why were you going to... um... teach them a new spell if you knew you wouldn't be getting an heir out of it?"

"I was practicing," he nodded solemnly.

Kagome let out a mortified little, "Oh."

"Ah, how rude of me!" said Miroku quickly, wrapping his fingers around hers, and leaning down to stare her straight in the... breasts. "Would you care to practice, too?"

Kagome contemplated pouring kerosene all over him and then accidentally sparking a match.

"After all, you've... scared away all three of my lovely apprentices," he sighed, acting as though she'd castrated him. Which she really should have.

Gnawing on her lip, Kagome pried his fingers off, and rubbed her forehead in frustration. She knew she was going to regret it within a nanosecond, but she couldn't help but ask. "Miroku-sama, how would you possibly... I mean... three of them?"

Miroku merely quirked an innocent eyebrow, prompting Kagome to stare at his lips as they curled up. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand your question, Kagome-sama."

Kagome hated him. "Why would you need three girls? I mean—"

"Women."

"—what?"

"Women, not girls. Women are more... how to expound upon this properly?—... learned. Girls, on the other hand—"

"FINE!" she screamed, oddly infuriated. "Why would you need three women?"

Miroku's face brightened abruptly, as though he'd been waiting for her to ask this particular question.

Kagome took an apprehensive step back.

"Why, my dear Kagome-sama," he began theatrically, "you do not understand what wretched fires rage in a man's soul!"

For a moment, Kagome was distracted, wondering where exactly he'd pilfered that line, then quickly pulled herself together.

"That's what fire extinguishers are for," she sniffled primly. "Besides, why can't you... drown those fires (Kagome cringed) with just one gir—woman?"

Miroku's eyes darkened attractively.

"Are you... offering yourself, Kagome-sama?" he asked curiously.

Kagome began questioning her sanity. "O-offering myself for what?"

Miroku grinned. "Apprenticeship."

Kagome started.

"Apprent—" she began slowly. "Miroku-sama. Are you drunk?"

Delighted, Miroku tilted his head. "Not very."

"Are you sure?"

"Kagome-sama, are you unable to answer a question with something other than a question?"

"What the—hff! Are you unable to—to... damn it!"

With a triumphant little smirk, Miroku tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

An odd, relatively unfamiliar sort of heat was pooling in Kagome's stomach.

Um!

Throat dry, she brushed his fingers away. "No," she said shakily, wondering at the underlying softness lacing her voice. "No, I'm not 'offering' myself, you stupid... jerk."

A very smug, very manipulative flicker of... evilness flashed through his eyes, and Kagome was suddenly very uncomfortable in her own body.

"Ah, I see," he said dramatically. "It is because you are but an innocent child, and think I deserve a passionate woman."

"You deserve a lobotomy!" shouted Kagome, balling up her fists.

Hff, infinity!

How dare he insinuate I—

"Besides," she rambled, furious and oddly exhilarated by this stupid, immature conversation and this stupid, immature monk, "I probably know more about this stuff than you do!"

Genuinely startled, Miroku blinked. "Kagome-sama?"

Kagome was blushing horribly, but—but her dignity was at stake!

"Well, I do!" she continued bravely, turning every shade of red in existence. "I mean, I am from the 20^th century and we—we're a very open-minded culture and—and... health classes and TV and my friends and... you know... " she babbled, unable to look at him. "Books."

Miroku's eyebrows were insanely high on his forehead. "Books?"

"Yes," she mumbled uneasily, gesturing with her thumbs and forefingers. "With... you know... pictures and... advice and stuff."

"Oh!" sang Miroku happily. "And do you read such books often, Kagome-sama?"

Kagome choked.

"N-no!" she spluttered, and was then overcome with righteous anger. "Of course not!"

"But you just said—"

"Stop paying attention!"

Miroku looked amused beyond belief.

Kagome gave him a blank look, suddenly completely exhausted. "Forget it. I'm going to bed, if you don't mind."

Contemplatively, Miroku nodded. "I certainly don't mind," he said seriously, then fixed his gaze on her retreating back. "But aren't you worried we'll disturb Shippou's rest?"

Kagome blinked, freezing in her tracks and turning her head slightly to stare at him. "What?"

Miroku looked adorably puzzled. "Kagome-sama, if indeed you know more about 'this stuff' than I do, I must learn from you." He paused, frowning piously. "And I sincerely doubt you will be a quiet instructor."

Kagome remembered having legs, but couldn't quite feel them at the moment. "W-what?"

Theatrically, Miroku looked to the heavens, gesturing at the dark ceiling. "Surely, you would not deny me this knowledge now!"

Kagome paled, ready to bolt. "Um, I—no—that is to say—"

But Miroku was still addressing the ceiling. "Ah, if only I had been aware an innocent child such as yourself was actually a connoisseur of—"

"Miroku-sama!" she shrieked, covering her ears and feeling oddly, incredibly hot. "I don't! I don't know anything! Leave me al—"

An arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer.

"That's why my suggestion had merit," murmured Miroku, watching her face as though he didn't quite recognize it. "Two birds with one stone."

Kagome stiffened, her hands dropping to her sides and accidentally brushing against his abdomen.

Miroku twitched.

Kagome's eyes widened.

Something... something was poking into her hip and—

"We'd solve my... rather pressing... problem," continued Miroku in a voice she'd never heard him use before, discarding his staff slowly and wrapping both arms around her waist. "And you'd acquire knowledge to make Inuyasha quite happy in the future."

Kagome's heart gave a light lurch at the mention of Inuyasha, but there was something... something—

Hard and warm and persistent grazing her lower abdomen and...

Oh, ick!

Ick!

Was he—he was—

"Dead! I'm going to kill you!" she shouted, grabbing his staff and trying to whack him over the head with it, but she couldn't quite see her target what with the blinding blush crawling up her face and all. "How drunk are you? I can't—I mean—that's disgusting and—and I—okay, no inhibitions—alcohol—but this is ridiculous and—"

Chagrined to find herself blushing horribly under his gaze, Kagome squirmed, thrusting the staff into his hands. "Stop—stop staring, Miroku-sama. It's impolite."

Miroku rubbed his head with a wince. "Not as impolite as depriving a man of his—"

Kagome shrieked violently. "You weren't going to do anything with them, Miroku-sama! You're all talk!"

Please be all talk...

Miroku was looking at her with a perfectly angelic expression.

Kagome twitched. "You were going to ask them to bear you a child and they were going to say no and you were going to leave like you always do!" she fumed, trembling.

You—you were, damn it.

Slowly, Miroku turned his back on her, gripping his staff until his knuckles turned white. "Of course, Kagome-sama."

Kagome's anger faded as she watched the hard line of his shoulders.

What's wrong, Miroku-sama?

Gathering courage, Kagome scrunched up her nose, then hopped around him to look at his shadowed face.

Miroku took an apprehensive step back. "What—what are you doing?"

Kagome sniffled, sticking her nose in the air and crossing her arms. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just looking for the real Miroku. The one that would have apologized to me by now."

Even though his eyes were somber (way too somber), a small smile was tugging at his lips. "Apologize for what, Kagome-sama? I've made advances before and will probably continue to do so. Until I [insert charming wink] accidentally fall on Inuyasha's Tetsusaiga."

Kagome couldn't help it. Even though he'd so thoroughly disgusted her only moments before, she choked on a giggle.

"Why, Miroku-sama?" she heard herself ask, genuinely curious.

Miroku groaned. "Kagome-sama. I don't think it's wise to pursue this line of questioning in my... current state."

Kagome's eyes widened. "Um!"

"It's all right," said Miroku hastily. "I'm just not very comfortable with you being here at the moment."

Kagome flushed. But—

But if I leave... he might go find those... those women again... and—and Sango would be unhappy and—

"There should be a river or something around here!" said Kagome enthusiastically. Because—

Because she was on a mission! A mission to save this poor misguided monk from himself!

Miroku blinked. "What?"

"You know!" she chirped happily, clapping her hands. "Cold water! Cold showers!"

Miroku gave a surprised laugh, eyeing her peculiarly. "Do those work for you?"

Kagome wished there were a fire alarm lever somewhere that she could abuse. "Wh-what? I—I don't need them, Miroku-sama."

Miroku quirked an eyebrow, and Kagome quickly averted her eyes.

The nerve! I'm trying to help him and he—

"At any cost, I'm afraid cold water doesn't help me," grinned Miroku, fingers suspiciously close to Kagome's nightgown.

"What does—?" began Kagome studiously, concentrating hard on this disturbing predicament, then choking on a scandalized cry. "I mean! Aside from... from... you know."

Miroku seemed way too entertained, as though he didn't quite mind this situation. At all. "I'm afraid nothing else can save me," he yawned theatrically, scuffing his sandal on the charred scroll sizzling on the floor. "I should leave, Kagome-sama. Perhaps I could still persuade those lovely—"

"You're not going anywhere!"

Kagome blinked.

Wait... that wasn't me.

And it certainly hadn't been Miroku. So...

"What happened?" wailed the innkeeper, meandering through the corridor with a desperate howl. "What happened to my beautiful scroll!"

"Ah!" Kagome started, eyes searching the ground for any incriminating evidence, and finding plenty.

The innkeeper collapsed to his knees, sobbing. "That was my great-great-great grandfather's scroll! He painted it for this respected establishment when he was but a lad and—"

"Well, why—why was it out here, on the wall, where anything could happen to it?" asked Kagome loudly, as guilt quickly snuck up on her. "I mean—"

"I—that is—oh, what does it matter!" wailed the innkeeper, swinging his short staff. "Out, you with no goats!"

"It's just a scroll," whimpered Kagome as the man rose and pushed at her back, aiming for the exit.

"It's not just a scroll!" screeched the innkeeper, letting go. "It's priceless!" He gave a deep, ragged gasp, evidently struggling for breath. "Do you know how much something priceless is worth?"

Miroku glanced at Kagome expectantly.

"Um... a lot?" she replied with a cautious wince.

The innkeeper paused. "Well... yes!"

"Kanrinin-san," interjected Miroku politely, "please accept our apologies. Some of us," he glanced surreptitiously at Kagome, "are rather accident-prone, so—"

"—and some of us," muttered Kagome, "are just asking for it—"

The innkeeper glanced from one to the other, then struck the ground with his staff.

Miroku and Kagome snapped to attention.

"Listen to me very carefully," growled the innkeeper, enunciating each word with a pointed glare. "You. You've caused me enough trouble for one day! I've already had to throw out three of my tenants for asking to buy you, child, and you have no money and all you've done is cause me great misfortune—"

"Me?" blinked Kagome. "But I—"

"There she goes again!" shrieked the innkeeper, patting his plump stomach, completely frustrated. "Not listening!"

"Yes, she does tend to... do that," nodded Miroku, offering the man a sympathetic glance.

Feeling very outnumbered and fully offended, Kagome opened her mouth to retaliate, but—

"So please, for the love of all that is pure and holy, leave. Leave now," cried the innkeeper, bending with a pained groan to pick up the remains of his incinerated scroll.

Guiltily, Kagome averted her eyes as he passed by her with a surly scowl ("No goats, either!"). Soon, he was completely out of sight and Kagome—Kagome was...

...glaring at Miroku.

"Well! Back home we go!" he said jovially, then flounced off, obviously expecting her to follow him.

Kagome seethed silently, waiting.

"Kagome-sama?"

"What?"

"...aren't you coming?"

Kagome wrinkled her nose. "No."

Miroku turned around, tilting his head genially. "I can't take you back to Inuyasha if you don't move."

"I can take care of myself!" she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I see," said Miroku calmly, then actually left her to her own devices. "See you back at the village, then."

Eh...?

Kagome watched him walk away, then quickly glanced at the maze of corridors.

Ah...! Which way was her room? She was still lost! She still didn't know where she'd left Shippou! And—and she was... alone. In a dark, creepy corridor. Inside a raunchy inn. Barely dressed. Unprotected.

Eek!

"Wait, Miroku-sa—" she began hastily, her nightgown snagging on a rusty nail. Frowning, she looked down and tugged violently. "Let go, you stupid—"

The fabric tore.

Kagome's eyes widened in horror.

"Kagome-sama," came Miroku's voice somewhere behind the dark entrance. "Are you—"

"Fine!" she shrieked, frantic. "Totally fine! Stay away! Nothing's wrong! Nothing at all!"

Nothing except the conspicuously mammoth split right down her—

"Huh," said Miroku, sounding much closer than before. "White undergarments. How... shocking."

Kagome shut her eyes tightly.

She hated him. She hated him from the bottom of his evil hooves to the top of his devil pitchfork.

"Turn around!" she snapped, mortified and feeling a gentle breeze where she customarily wasn't used to one. "If—if you breathe a word of this to—"

A warm hand cupped her behind.

"Kagome-sama, I mustn't let you suffer this wretched cold!" explained Miroku with a gentle squeeze, his fingertips brushing against—

Kagome whimpered.

Christmas was drawing near (seven months and counting!), and Kagome wished for just one thing from Santa—to never, ever, be this humiliated again.

One hand holding her nightgown together, the other poised to smite the monk down, smite him down good, Kagome whirled around and—

Felt her jaw drop.

"What's this, then?" asked a village elder.

A group of old men was staring at them with interest, warming their wrinkled hands on a small fire outside the inn.

Kagome let out a horrified little squeak.

Bad Santa, bad!

"Why," exclaimed another elder, trying to peek into the corridor over Miroku's broad shoulders, "I reckon we've a new courtesan, ey!"

A collective murmur of excitement passed through the group.

Kagome tried to fend off an aneurysm.

An old man poked his head into the corridor. "Oh! And she's young, men!"

The murmur of excitement grew louder, accompanied by an occasional giddy applause.

"Miroku-sama—" began Kagome fearfully, fingers automatically wrapping around his forearm.

Miroku frowned, looking oddly annoyed.

"Come, Kagome-sama," he rumbled protectively, stuffing her inside his robes. "We're leaving. Before Inuyasha kills me for letting you... get a job."

"But Shippou—"

"—so, what say you?" interrupted a shivering old man. "Any good, ey?"

The elder behind Miroku scratched his flabby chin. "Hmm. I don't know, ey. She's kind of scrawny..." he grumbled prudently, but opened the bidding at, "...two goats!"

"Three goats!" bellowed a short, stout man behind him.

"Four!"

"Look at those childlike hips!" cried another. "Ten!"

Miroku pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. "Gentlemen! My lovely companion is not for sale, so if you would kindly—wait. Ten goats?"

"Twenty!"

Miroku brought two fingers to his chin as though he was thinking seriously on the subject. "Well, twenty goats does sound like a reasonable offer."

Kagome paled, swaying on her feet.

Was he actually considering this?

"Miroku-sama," she began frantically, tugging at his gloved hand.

Miroku glanced at her in surprise, his blue eyes widening imperceptibly.

"Kagome-sama," he murmured softly, "perhaps I can negotiate a more appropriate exchange." A joyful grin suddenly threatened to split his face in two. "I've always wanted a sturdy wagon. And perhaps a merchant's young daughter."

Kagome was relatively certain she was experiencing a mild stroke.

He... he just might trade me in! After all, I ruined his night and I was mean to him and... no one would ever know about it but him and—

Aiee!

Quickly, Kagome disappeared deeper into Miroku's robes, poked her head under his arm, and looked up, trembling. "Miroku-sama, please! Please don't sell me! I promise to be good from now on!"

Miroku, who'd obviously been trying to visualize her naked, paused contemplatively, touched by... well, it must have been the complete and utter desperation in her voice.

"How... good?" he asked very, very slowly, as though he was weighing something of monumental significance in his head.

With a trusting little whimper, Kagome wrapped herself around his upper arm, squeezing tightly. "Don't-sell-me!"

"How good, Kagome-sama?" he repeated, amused and intrigued, his eyes peculiarly dark and his voice oddly gruff.

Kagome glanced about.

A decrepit old man was staring at her, his shaky, wrinkled hands outstretched zealously, a trickle of drool dripping from his toothless mouth.

Another, much older man—the size of a streetcar—was quivering atop his ratty cane, wheezing and salivating and wobbling ever closer to her, his whiskers twitching in delight.

A third old man, who was apparently the first two's grandfather, was having what looked suspiciously like a seizure, rigor mortis setting into his liver-spotted limbs, the soggy crust on his eyes rolling up, a single, greasy hair on top of his head shaking excitedly—

"VERY, VERY GOOD, Miroku-sama!" cried Kagome miserably, burrowing into Miroku's robes, quite intent on never, ever, ever, leaving their relative safety. "I promise!"

Apparently, that was all Miroku needed to know.

"Houriki!" he shouted fervently, swinging his golden staff at the crowd with an elated grin.

The old men hissed and recoiled, zombie-like, shrinking away from the jangle of Miroku's shakujo.

Kagome stumbled slightly, trying to hold onto him.

Mortified—and knowing she definitely shouldn't have been noticing stupid stuff like corded muscles tensing and rippling and stretching under her fingertips, or the sharp, graceful line of his profile as he scowled, or the deep softness of that Houriki! that made her chest ache and her knees weak—Kagome held on tight, oddly comforted and appeased by his enthusiasm.

Soon, she lost herself in the warmth of his robes and the feel of his chest and this soothing scent of tea leaves and chocolate and—sheesh, was he always this tall and... and... firm... and...

"—perfectly safe to come out."

Kagome blinked, slowly opening her eyes. "Mh hmm?"

Miroku was craning his neck, trying to level his face with hers, a goofy little smile softening his features. "I said, it's perfectly safe to come out now, Kagome-sama. Though I do appreciate the role reversal."

Kagome jumped, tangling herself further into his robes. "I—eee—didn't touch anything!"

Miroku raised an amused eyebrow.

Kagome slowly withdrew her fingers from his warm, warm chest, coughing timidly. "This doesn't count, Miroku-sama. Because—because it was your fault in the first place." Indignant pause. "Everything is your fault!"

Miroku yawned, spreading his arms wide then slowly bringing one back around Kagome. "Technically, it's your fault, Kagome-sama," he said airily, watching her through half-lidded eyes. "After all, I was perfectly licit in all my affairs until you showed up and... almost burned down the inn and endangered all those old men..."

The old men in question gurgled from where they'd been huddling—far, far away from Miroku—grumbling and throwing him surreptitious glances over the crackling fire.

"Quite degrading, really," continued Miroku casually, as though his hand wasn't sliding down Kagome's exposed back.

Kagome's eyes were wide, her heart was racing, and her mind was screaming at her to hit him and run, run until she was safe—perhaps in a nunnery or an insane asylum—

"What NOW?" came an outraged shriek.

Miroku's hands froze halfway down the small of Kagome's bare back.

"What did you do now?" continued the disembodied shriek frantically.

The innkeeper.

"Kanrinin-san, they—they're demons!" whimpered one of the old men. "They attacked us for absolutely no reason whatsoever!"

The innkeeper's beady eyes widened furiously, his fat cheeks puffing up. "Houshi-sama! You attacked my faithful—and exceedingly lucrative—clientele? Why!?" he roared incredulously, banging his head against the wooden doorway.

"Attacked is such an... accurate word," said Miroku, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Into the pen with him!" demanded an elder, feigning injury. He squinted one glassy eye open and added suggestively, "We can handle the girl."

Miroku's fist clenched around Kagome's. "This is ridiculous," he murmured to no one in particular. "All I wanted was one night to myself. One night, to forget about y—"

"Miroku-sama, let's just leave," pleaded Kagome, feeling exceptionally guilty.

"You can't leave until you pay!" fumed the innkeeper.

"Pay for what?" asked Miroku coolly.

"Damage!" snapped the innkeeper. "Damage to my inn! Damage to my fellow villagers!"

Expression neutral, Miroku gestured with his shakujo. "We are simple pilgrims. We do not posses material wealth, kanrinin-san."

"And how were you going to pay my girls, then?" huffed the innkeeper. The elders rallied in support.

Miroku grinned attractively. "Pay? Why, Buddha frowns upon monetary compensation for such beautiful acts of nature!"

Kagome groaned, resisting the urge to smack her forehead. Into a barrel of a gun.

The men contemplated Miroku's words for a short moment, then exchanged irked glances.

"That's it," said one, shaking his decrepit fist. "Lock him up!"

"No!" shouted Kagome, disentangling herself from Miroku's robes, quite forgetful of her appearance.

"You can't expect Miroku-sama to—to pay you for... whatever," she began valiantly, oblivious to the sudden silence. "And—and I'm sure he didn't plan on doing anything inappropriate with those—those nice ladies—and... and I know he's lecherous and evil, but he's also really kind and smart and nice and you can't lock him up!" she finished, very proud of her powerful speech.

The men regarded her silently for a long moment.

"Thirty goats," said one finally.

"Thirty-five," nodded another.

Looking slightly flustered, Miroku tugged her into him, whispering, "Your tiny undergarments are not helping, Kagome-sama."

Flushed to the tips of her toes, Kagome sank against him in defeat.

A convent.

I must join one.

"Are we free to go, kanrinin-san?" asked Miroku authoritatively. "Because, as Buddha's—"

The innkeeper scrubbed at his forehead, kicking one of the squabbling elders. "Leave. Just leave, houshi-sama. (Perhaps Buddha will smile upon us and never let you two back on these lands again.)"

Kagome heaved a sigh of relief, then suddenly remembered.

"Miroku-sama, wait—Shippou-chan—he—"

"Where is he?" asked Miroku, frowning in concern.

"My room."

"I see," nodded Miroku, then turned to the innkeeper. "Not to inconvenience you further, kanrinin-san, but my... sister's son is still on your premises. He is young and helpless. To awake without a parent by his side would be most traumatic for one of his disposition."

Kagome resisted swooning.

Ah, Miroku-sama is so diplomatic!—Wait.

Sister?

The inn-keeper narrowed his beady eyes. "But she came here alone..." He turned to Kagome with burning eyes. "YOU!"

"Surely, you would not punish an innocent child," finished Miroku pointedly.

The inn-keeper grumbled, deflating. "Fine. You can go get him. But I sincerely doubt his alleged innocence, what with his mother being so loose and deceitful and—"

Kagome didn't know how exactly she'd ended up with a splintery plank in her hands, aiming for the inn-keeper's fat head, but—

"Kagome-sama," whispered Miroku, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "We're in enough trouble as is. Please don't add murder to our list of offenses. The ground is far too hard for us to dig him a proper grave."

Kagome merely readjusted her aim, poking Miroku's shoulder with the notched strip of wood. "Sister?" she gritted out murderously. "Sister?"

Miroku regarded her nonchalantly. "Would you have preferred 'salacious concubine'?"

The plank in Kagome's hands incinerated.

"Stop setting things on fire!" cried the innkeeper miserably.

Reluctantly, Kagome obeyed, wiping her hands on Miroku's robes. Grumbling, she followed the monk and the innkeeper deeper into the inn, trying to wrap what was left of her nightgown around herself, shooting Miroku scathing glances every time he looked back in her direction with those—those eyes.

He is SO dead when I tell Inuyasha that he... well, um... saved me.

Darn!

Finally, after inspecting four wrong rooms and two dead-ends, the trio finally discovered a slumbering little kitsune hiding beneath a fluffy Hello Kitty comforter.

Kagome could have sworn she'd seen a soft little smile tug at Miroku's features, but blamed it entirely on the stupid, back-stabbing candlelight. Because—because Miroku was so totally not this cute before. And his eyes were never this—this dark and pretty! And his shoulders were certainly never, ever, this—

Focus, Kagome!

Miroku, on the other hand, was focused. He'd spied Kagome's overstuffed backpack, hoisted it over his shoulder, then bent down to ruffle Shippou's hair affectionately.

Umm...

"Aiee! Is that a tail—? Oy! What's wrong with your boy?" asked the innkeeper harshly, hopping behind Kagome and trying to catch a glimpse of the little kitsune. Worried, Kagome was at Miroku's side in an instant, shielding her little fox demon from the innkeeper's distrustful eyes.

Miroku glanced at her briefly, then wiped away a smudge of chocolate off Shippou's cheek. "You're seeing things, kanrinin-san."

Kagome's gaze softened considerably once again.

...wait a minute...

Hey!

Wasn't Miroku supposed to be hammered or something?

"Mhnn," slurred Shippou, swatting at them and trying to dig deeper under the covers. "The midgets stole my shoes, Kagome."

Miroku grinned at a giggling Kagome.

"Shippou," he whispered softly, snuggling the little kitsune into his arms. "Hide the tail."

Oddly touched, Kagome helped tuck Shippou's sleepy face (pointy demon-ears, included) into the crook of Miroku's shoulder, occasionally throwing anxious glances at the innkeeper.

"You're not a butterfly," Shippou told Miroku's shakujo insightfully. "Butterflies are made of sugar and clouds."

Miroku turned his head to stare at Kagome. "What did you feed him?"

Kagome blushed, scuffing her toe on the tacky oriental rug. "Um, what's important right now, Miroku-sama, is... is that we get back home as soon as possible and—"

"I see. Candy," concluded Miroku sagely, shaking his head and stepping out of the room, Shippou snuggled in his arms.

Kagome scowled, jogging after them. "And what's wrong with candy all of a sudden?"

Miroku paused in the corridor, pressing two fingers to his chin with an eloquent, "Mou. I wouldn't know. You never bring me any."

Kagome's eyes widened. "That's not true!"

Miroku raised an offended eyebrow, readjusting his hold on a snoozing Shippou.

"Okay, totally true," conceded Kagome sheepishly. "But that's only because... um... you're—you're—"

"—of no importance to you," finished Miroku calmly, eyes peculiarly dark.

Incredibly hurt, Kagome fell behind.

Miroku didn't seem to notice; Shippou was still practically asleep; and the grouchy innkeeper was stationed at the exit, tapping his foot with a glare that could rival Inuyasha's.

Frowning, Kagome watched Miroku walk away, step by slow step, his silhouette graceful and unruffled and—

What—what was he talking about? She cared. She cared about him. She cared a lot!

"Miroku-sama," she began apologetically, but the innkeeper harrumphed, narrowing his eyes.

"He looks nothing like you," he said haughtily, trying to poke Shippou, who was finally starting to wake, his little fox feet dangling from beneath Miroku's elbow.

"Wha?" asked the little fox groggily.

Frazzled, and completely distracted by Miroku's hurtful comment (ugh, it wasn't true, damn it!), Kagome was near him in an instant, spreading her arms protectively. She'd opened her mouth to say something, but—

"The father was a foreigner," nodded Miroku, looking appropriately forlorn. "Left my poor, insatiable sister with child. Brought shame on the whole family, it did."

Wide-eyed, Shippou looked up at Kagome. "Am I still asleep?"

"Ah," nodded the innkeeper. "That explains a lot." He gave Miroku a sympathetic shake of his head, then added, "Must be difficult to have such a burden in the family, especially for a respected houshi like yourself."

Kagome's every muscle was burning with an impressive fury. She was still abnormally hurt that Miroku thought she didn't care about him at all, and that she'd caught him cavorting with those women, and—and what the hell was wrong with him?

"Why," she began, almost vindictively, though her voice trembled, unused to this kind of bickering, "no—no worse than the burden I have to carry. It was much easier to deal with my... brother's latent homosexuality when it was... you know... l-latent."

Kagome gasped, hand over mouth.

Oh, God, did I really—

On second thought, what was wrong with her?

"Wha?" cried Shippou, utterly confused.

Miroku, for his part, was gaping at her like he was on the verge of passing out.

Fearing she'd gone way too far, Kagome was more than ready to apologize, but Miroku quickly recovered, and took a step toward her, a reeling Shippou clinging to his arm.

"Perhaps," insisted Miroku histrionically, "it was easier to deal because you were living in hopes of marrying me one day. After all, Father was already married."

"Wha?" repeated Shippou, eyes huge.

Kagome was fluctuating between incredulity, fury, and uncontrollable laughter, her gratuitous angst quickly forgotten. "Well," she giggled, taking a step back, relieved and invigorated and lost in this silly competition, "maybe if you hadn't fathered Shippou when I was... fifteen minus six, plus nine months of pregnancy... eight years old—"

"ENOUGH!" cried the innkeeper, covering his ears. "I fear I will burn in hell just for standing near you! Out! Out of my house, sinners!"

Blushing, Kagome glanced at Miroku, who was now towering over her. "Um... should we remind him he runs a—"

"OUT!"

And so, thoroughly confused with this insistent little ache that kept traveling lower and lower the more Miroku spoke to her—only her—Kagome shuffled out of the inn, wondering if perhaps she'd overdosed on pocky, had gone into an irreversible coma, and was now actually in hell.

Probably.

Shyly, she dared a peek at Miroku and Shippou. Shippou was still rubbing his little eyes, trying to wake up from this nightmare. And Miroku—Miroku's shoulders were shaking. With repressed laughter.

"I apologize, Kagome-sama," he managed, leaning against a small well in the center of the empty village market. "I'll escort you two back to Kaede-sama's village."

Kagome crossed her arms, fretting. "And I suppose you'll be coming back here once you do?"

Miroku readjusted his hold on Shippou with the most innocent of shrugs. "Have a better suggestion, Kagome-sama?"

A chill slithered up her spine. "Yes."

"Oh?"

Kagome straightened. "As a matter of fact—"

"Kagome... um," interrupted Shippou, finally fully awake, "...what's wrong with your kimono?"

Kagome's eyes widened instantly.

Miroku was trying to hide a smirk.

"AND WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO SAY SOMETHING, MIROKU-SAMA?" she shrieked, trying to find something—anything—to cover herself with.

"Ah, Kagome-sama. Can't blame a man for enjoying a view as enticing as—oomph!"

"Shirt, shirt," chanted Kagome, attacking her backpack and consequently almost toppling Miroku to the ground. "Need a shirt."

"And pants, Kagome," growled Shippou protectively, clawing at Miroku's eyes with his useless little paws.

Kagome tried—desperately—to cling to that last shred of dignity, but—

"Should I turn around?" asked Miroku, looking like the model kindergartner. "I'm not sure it's fair that Shippou gets to watch and I don't."

Blind with rage and embarrassment, Kagome snatched her uniform, socks, and shoes, then scampered off, muttering as the pressure in her temples (and various other, less virtuous, places) increased.

It was much later, when the trio was roaming the dark, abandoned plains in search of shelter that didn't offer... um, extracurricular activities—Shippou riding on Miroku's shoulders, nibbling on pocky—that Kagome noticed something somewhat strange.

"What's so funny, Miroku-sama?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Then stop grinning already," scolded Shippou, tugging on Miroku's ponytail. "It's creepy."

Kagome found herself disagreeing with Shippou. It wasn't creepy, per se, just... unusual. But she certainly wasn't going to mention it. If Miroku-sama was happy, then she'd be happy, too.

"So, you're not going to, right?" she asked delicately, not quite sure as to why.

"Not going to what, Kagome-sama?" asked Miroku, turning his head to look at her.

Kagome narrowly avoided smacking into a tree. "Um, you're not going to go look for those women again, are you?"

Miroku grinned charmingly, pointing ahead of them. "Perhaps we can find shelter in that village."

Kagome shot him a glare. "That doesn't answer my—"

But Miroku and Shippou were already sneaking into the village in search of a villager who was still up at this hour. And before Kagome knew how it'd happened, all three were ushered into a small, round hut and served tea by a small, round woman, who exited as soon as Miroku mentioned an ominous black cloud hovering over her household.

"What should I do with this?" he asked shortly thereafter, nodding at Kagome's backpack.

Apprehensively, Kagome looked around the room (too small, eee!), and mumbled anxiously, "Just put it in the corner, Miroku-sama."

"...the room is round, Kagome-sama."

"Is it really?" squeaked Kagome nervously.

Shippou hopped off Miroku's shoulder. "Kagome? Are you—?"

"I'm fine!" she replied a little too quickly. And loudly.

Miroku chuckled, seating himself down on a straw mat. "I won't," he smiled, sounding sincere.

Nodding vehemently, Kagome quickly sat opposite him, grabbing Shippou and clutching him like a plushie. "You better not."

Shippou looked from Kagome to Miroku to Kagome again. "Won't what?"

"Act inappropriately," answered Miroku, arranging his features into a hurt expression. "Although, I don't see how one could blame me if I did."

Kagome's nervousness was quickly substituted with anger. "I could blame you, you—"

"Well, we've never been alone quite like this before, Kagome-sama," reasoned Miroku piously, digging through his robes and producing a small ceramic flask. "It seems someone else is always monopolizing your attention."

"Yeah, I wonder how that feels," grumbled Shippou, biting a stray cuticle.

"And why, in a situation like this," continued Miroku, undeterred, popping the cork off the flask and adding its contents to the tea before them, "a man is bound to feel... how should I put it... tempted."

"Tempted to do what?" asked Shippou with a sleepy yawn.

Kagome took a hurried gulp of tea, her whole body trembling with unfamiliar warmth. "Cards! We should play cards!"

Shippou replied with a huge, eye-watering yawn. "Can we play tomorrow morning, Kagome?"

Kagome panicked, setting her teacup down. "Shippou-chan! Don't go to sleep yet! We can—we can—"

"Mmm," sighed Miroku deeply. "It's raining again, Shippou." Soft thudding on the roof confirmed his news. "Perfect time for a nap, isn't it?"

Shippou seemed to agree, lulled by the slow fall of rain, the dimming candlelight, and Miroku's voice. "Nap..."

"Crayons! I brought you new crayons! And two coloring books!" suggested Kagome frantically as Shippou's little eyes began to close.

"Is this yours?" asked Miroku, who'd snuck off to Kagome's backpack while she wasn't paying attention. "This soft, warm blanket, Shippou?"

Shippou smacked his lips sleepily and, like a puppet, slowly climbed out of Kagome's arms, dragging himself toward the little makeshift bed Miroku had hastily put together. "Yes. Mine..."

Kagome blinked, staring at her empty lap, her heart racing.

Don't—don't hyperventilate, it's probably not what you're thinki—

"Tea, Kagome-sama?" A low rumble in her ear as Miroku made his way back.

Kagome swallowed convulsively, casting a subtle glance in Shippou's direction.

Ack! Asleep already!

"N-no, thank you. I have—" A sudden chill tickled her spine. "—why'd you do that, Miroku-sama?"

Miroku raised both eyebrows, looking confused. "Did what?"

'Put Shippou to bed when he was tired' sounded insane and not very evil, so Kagome went with, "Everything!"

Miroku watched her for a moment with an undecipherable look, then winked. "It'll be our secret, Kagome-sama."

The deep, burning ache that had been plaguing her all night intensified. "What will?"

Miroku took a sip of his modified tea. "Your promise."

Kagome blushed furiously. "Wh-what! You can't hold me to that! I—"

"—never backed out of a promise before," finished Miroku nonchalantly, eyes closed. "And usually I'd be inclined to overlook a promise as compromising as yours—" Deep, long sigh. "Alas, you've forbidden me from returning to the... inn." Squinting one eye open, he added, "And it's raining. A trip in such weather would surely not be beneficial to my health..."

"But—"

"And part of your promise was to be... agreeable."

Kagome froze, heart pounding.

'How good, Kagome-sama?'

'VERY, VERY GOOD, Miroku-sama!'

Kagome shut her eyes tightly, balled up her fists, and shrieked, shuddering, "I CAN'T—I CAN'T DO THAT!"

Shippou mumbled in his sleep, sinking deeper into the pillows.

Bravely, Kagome cracked open an eye to look at Miroku.

"Can't have tea, Kagome-sama?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Tea...?"

Miroku nodded at the tea set between them. "I was hoping we could have tea. Like two normal adults. Nothing more."

Kagome eyed him suspiciously. He was smiling brilliantly, his tiny teacup and saucer poised perfectly in his lap, robes immaculate, and hair slightly mussed.

"I'm not an adult," she huffed. "You're a lot older than me, Miroku-sama."

Miroku frowned, waving a dismissive hand. "Mere months, certainly."

Kagome raised a single brow.

"A year at most," he amended, sipping gingerly.

"Miroku-sama, I'm fifteen."

"Oh," he grinned. "Well. You... look older."

Kagome twitched violently. "How old do I look, Miroku-sama?"

And then, Miroku was watching her with a familiar, confident twinkle in his eye. "Old enough to bear a handsome, dauntless monk a son!"

...yep. Should've seen it coming.

"Hff," she grumbled, deciding she would not let him fluster her further. "Oh, I—I would, Miroku-sama, but you're probably too old to father a child anyway."

Miroku dropped his saucer, the little teacup dangling precariously off his pinkie.

"Kagome-sama," he raised his eyebrows, horrified. "How old do you think I am?"

Kagome bit back a giggle.

So easy.

"Hmm," she began with a slow sort of playfulness, making a show of studying his features and narrowing her eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, I know you're older than my brother and younger than my grandfather, so... law of averages... sixty-eight divided by two... thirty-four!"

Miroku was glaring at her as though she were Naraku, his shoulders stiff and his eyes narrowed.

"But you could so pass for thirty," she added, trying not to collapse into a fit of giggles.

And then—

Miroku was barely an inch away from her lips, watching her.

"Twenty," he whispered, his breath warming her cheek. "I could pass for twenty."

Flustered, Kagome glanced at his lips, then timidly brought her gaze back up to his eyes.

"So..." she began tentatively, "you're—you're older than that?"

Please—just share something for once.

Miroku offered her a cryptic shrug.

Something very pleasant, very hot, curled deep inside her.

"Oh, my God, you're old," she blurted happily.

Miroku shot her lips another glare. "Inuyasha's at least seventy."

"...good point," conceded Kagome, her cheeks oddly warm.

This is the part where you push him away.

"Um," she whispered instead. "I won't tell anyone, you know."

Miroku grew serious. "I know."

"Our little secret, right?" she said, forcing a carefree smile.

"We're not talking about age anymore, are we?" asked Miroku thoughtfully.

Kagome shook her head. "I-I've noticed you've been acting... well, really weird lately. And I thought maybe you'd tell m—"

"Your concern is appreciated, Kagome-sama," said Miroku stiffly, moving back to his mat. "But there is no need to worry on my behalf."

Kagome watched him tilt the small flask into his teacup. "I have this friend," she began carefully. "Let's call him Hojou, since his name is... Hojou."

The corners of Miroku's lips curled up lazily. "Kagome-sama, I'm afraid I really dislike obvious analogies—"

"And Hojou-kun is a nice boy," she explained awkwardly, one sock slipping down to her ankle. "But lately, I've been very distant and might have said some stupid things to him." Pause. "If I'd been honest with him, I wouldn't be trying to avoid him now. (Which is bad, because he is a nice boy.) So—"

"—what you're saying is, I should be honest with Hojou-kun?"

Kagome giggled. "With me."

Miroku's features softened, his bushy eyebrows drawing together into a thoughtful frown. "Kagome-sama. Nothing's w—"

"Is it the kazaana?" she blurted out, wincing.

Miroku remained composed, though she'd noticed him favor his left hand while picking up the teacup again. "No."

"Is it Naraku?"

"No."

"Is it Sango?"

"No."

Kagome blinked. "Are you sure it's not Sango?"

Miroku grinned. "Well, now that you mention it..."

Kagome perked up (though her chest constricted slightly). "Yes?"

Miroku looked at her with sad eyes. "You see..."

"Yes..."

"Sango and I..."

"Yes..."

"...for quite some time now..."

"YES?"

"...have been..."

"..."

"...stealing your candy."

Kagome blinked wildly. "What?"

Miroku sighed remorsefully. "We're very sorry."

Kagome gave up. "Fine!" she grumbled, strangely relieved. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll just... just... get you drunk and torture it out of you!"

"Ah," agreed Miroku virtuously. "May I assist you with that?" he asked, gesturing toward her teacup with his little flask.

"What's in this?" asked Kagome as he filled her cup, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Oh," began Miroku casually. "Herbs. Berries. Perhaps a little sugar."

"Really?" she asked innocently. "'Cause it smells like sake."

Miroku bit back a grin.

"And eee, it's hot!"

"There is only one solution, Kagome-sama!" he suggested chivalrously. "You're going to have to," here, he coughed into his hand to hide a pleased grin, "blow on it."

Kagome sniffled. "Blow on it how?"

Miroku's grin faded instantly. "Uhn..."

"Because it's covered, and if I had a straw," she continued obliviously, inspecting the narrow neck of the flask, "I could just cool it down that way. But I don't have a straw."

Miroku blinked, flustered. "Perhaps... perhaps you ought to take a nap, Kagome-sama."

"Oh!" she bounced, giving a yip of delight. "Chocolate!"

"What?"

"We should dip some chocolate into it," she nodded, clapping her hands, "make it all melty and stuff. Because—because I haven't had dinner today, and, well... meltychocolate."

"A short nap will do, I'm certain," persisted Miroku as though she hadn't said anything, but Kagome ignored him, diving for her backpack, and rifling through its scary contents.

"—and that way," she called out over her shoulder, "you won't be able to say I hate you just because I never brought you candy."

Miroku was watching her with an oddly rueful gaze. "I didn't say you—"

"Because I don't, you know," she sniffled, turning her attention back to her backpack. "I would never hate you. Even though you're so... strange, I—ooh, so that'swhere my calculator went!"

Miroku shifted awkwardly. "Kagome-sama, it's—"

"I care about all of you," she rambled, pricking her finger on a mechanical pencil. "And okay, I guess I don't show it much with you, Miroku-sama, but you never... never..."

...never seem to need me to.

"Kagome-sama," began Miroku carefully. "What I said... it was uncalled for. And childish. And I honestly don't think you don't—mhhh!"

"Good, huh?" asked Kagome gleefully, having stuffed a soft piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Coughing, Miroku brought his hand to his lips with an incredulous frown.

Kagome licked the rest of the chocolate off her fingers. "You're welcome."

Slowly, a small smile crossed Miroku's lips. "Presumptuous. Perhaps I didn't like it."

Faux-horrified, Kagome experimentally dipped a small block of chocolate into the hot liquor. "Fine, then," she said, trying to spoon the liquefied mess out of the tiny teacup. "More for me!"

"I've never known you to be this selfish, Kagome-sama," said Miroku with a boyish pout.

Kagome sniffled, taking a tentative lick. "Yes, well, maybe you just don't know me, then!" she huffed playfully.

Miroku grew deathly serious.

Kagome winced. "I didn't mean—"

But Miroku held up a hand. "It's the truth, Kagome-sama," he said nonchalantly. "One should never apologize for telling the truth."

Kagome lowered her gaze to her bare knees. "You're right," she agreed, bringing her eyes level with his.

Miroku nodded uncomfortably.

Kagome squirmed.

The candle flickered.

Okay... say something...

"Let's fix it, Miroku-sama."

Not that!

"What?" asked Miroku, surprised.

Kagome sucked in a breath, then launched into a... prologue. "I failed my last geometry quiz but haven't told my mother yet; once, when I was little, I gave my cat a haircut and he's still trying to get revenge by tripping me up whenever I'm going down the stairs; I secretly resent my brother for getting better grades last trimester; I really wish I knew when Sango's birthday was 'cause I saw the perfect thing for her and no, it's not lingerie; I often cheat in Mah Jong but only if it's against my grandfather because-he's-really-horrible-when-he-wins!; and... I don't like almonds."

Miroku blinked. Then blinked again.

Kagome averted her eyes, blushing furiously and gesturing vaguely with her hand. "Now you."

Flustered, Miroku stared at her. "Kagome-sama, I don't—"

"Please?"

Miroku's features softened slightly. "I..." he struggled to find the words, clearly uneasy. "I... once put a dead turtle in Mushin's soup and he actually ate it and was sick for a week...?"

Kagome nodded encouragingly, giggling.

Miroku shook his head as though he couldn't believe he was telling her this, but continued nonetheless. "I don't particularly like tea; I've never been past the northern alps; I've always wanted a brother; and if I never run into another mantis demon again, it'll be three centuries too soon." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, then added, "Is that enough?"

Kagome was pretty sure her face was going to split in half from all that grinning. "For now."

Amused, Miroku rose to pour himself more tea. "You think your cat is out to get you?" he asked curiously.

Kagome extended her teacup, and Miroku filled it without her having to ask. "You've always wanted a brother?"

"I asked you first," grinned Miroku, seating himself back opposite her.

Kagome groaned, melting more chocolate. "No," she whined. "I know he's out to get me. I have the medical records to prove it." Pause. "So. Brother?"

Miroku was looking around for something. "Selfish, really," he said, but wouldn't look at her. He dipped a piece of chocolate into the tea, staring at his reflection. "I used to think having a brother would have lifted the curse off of me."

Oh.

Oh...

Heart pounding, Kagome handed him a small spoon, keeping her gaze on her socks. She felt as though she'd intruded on something deeply personal, but... but... she was. So. Happy.

"Thank you," she smiled, shifting closer to where he was sitting.

Miroku was oddly subdued, cheeks darker than usual. "Perhaps the fates will smile down upon me and I won't actually remember this conversation tomorrow morning."

Kagome giggled. "As long as I remember it, Miroku-sama."

Miroku bit back a grin. "I'd rather remember tonight for other reasons."

Blushing, Kagome held up both hands. "Don't even—"

"Such as your promise," he winked mischievously, and she knew he was trying to distract her.

"Uh huh," nodded Kagome indulgently. Because, no.

No, you don't, mister.

She'd seen something very... different about him just now and he was not going to—

—be wearing his robes.

"Miroku-sama!" she yelped, covering her eyes and spilling the chocolatey tea all over her skirt. "What are you doing!"

"Waiting," he said casually, clad only in his dark pants.

Kagome was certain she was going to need a chemical intervention, soon.

"F-for?" she asked foolishly.

Miroku moved in closer to murmur possessively, voice lowering, eyebrow cocking. "You."

Relatively convinced her heart was playing Rimsky-Korsakov's Flight of the Bumblebee (on Speed), Kagome slid backwards, and quickly pushed away with her legs, her foot catching on the tray.

Miroku's little flask wobbled for a bit, then toppled over, shattering into four distinct pieces.

Miroku cringed briefly, but continued as planned.

"You promised to be good, Kagome-sama," he whispered seductively, advancing until she was trapped between his arms, defenseless and intimidated and curious on the cold, hard floor. "Very good."

Kagome eeped. "No, I said I'd—"

Wait...

Wait!

No way was she falling for that one!

"I—I know what you're doing!" she shouted, feeling quite ingenious.

Miroku froze a centimeter from her cheek, eyeing her warily. "Collecting?"

Despite her best efforts not to giggle, Kagome could feel a laugh building up in her chest. "No," she smiled happily. "You regret telling me. And you're trying to push me away so I won't bug you again. It's all very Dostoevsky... esque."

Miroku glanced at the melted chocolate, seemingly tuning her out.

But gosh darn it, Kagome would not be deterred!

"The alienated antihero raging against the world, perversely self-destructive—"

"Well, you got one part right," grinned Miroku wickedly, dipping two fingers into the chocolate and sliding them down her cheek.

Kagome blinked. "—in what's traditionally considered a—oh, uhn."

Miroku's lips were soft on her skin, his tongue wet and rough against her cheek.

"Chocolate tastes better this way," he explained nobly.

Kagome's breath caught.

"Here," he murmured, fingers sticky. "See for yourself, Kagome-sama."

A greedy, reckless sort of hunger was coiling low, below her bellybutton and lower, lower, lower until—

She brushed her lips against the corner of his.

Thoroughly shocked, Miroku lost his footing, and toppled atop her, his rosary digging into her... breast. Where his hand was. On her breast.

Eyes wide and questioning, Miroku mumbled a muffled apology, quickly removing his hand.

Kagome flinched, horrified.

Oh, God, why did I—

Miroku drew back, startled and staring at her in surprise, as if her theory was correct and he'd only been playing thus far, but now, now...

"You were right," he breathed, muscles clenching, his breath warming her jaw.

Mortified, Kagome remained still, unable to look away from his lips and that smudge of chocolate she really wanted gone.

"I-I know," she nodded dazedly, trembling. "Yay."

Slowly, Miroku's hands slid to her hips, drawing her closer.

"I said, were right," he whispered with an odd sort of reluctance, slipping his fingers between her legs.

"Miroku—!"

"Inuyasha's going to kill me," he mumbled, his knees hesitantly brushing her sides as he pinned her to the floor.

Bewildered, Kagome tried to place the name.

Oh, Inuyasha.

To her credit, she could barely remember her own name.

"Miroku-sama," she began frantically, trying to think of a convincing reason to stop this, stop it now.

Except...

She could only think of three... not so convincing ones.

One: Sango. Two: Kagome was... probably in love with Inuyasha, 'cause, hey, it made sense to be in love with the main character. And three: Kagome wasn't—wasn't that kind of girl and—

"It's not in your character to back out of a promise, Kagome-sama," reasoned Miroku with a low growl. He pressed his forehead to hers, shutting his eyes tightly. "And it is not in mine to resist. Not now."

Kagome waited for him to open his eyes before saying anything.

"That was quite possibly the most beautiful account of pure true love I've ever heard," she giggled, thumping her head against the floor, hair spilling around her like the halo she knew she deserved.

Miroku grinned appreciatively, warming Kagome to her little toes. "Another truth?"

"Yes, please."

"I don't believe in it."

Through a haze of confusion, excitement, and disappointment, Kagome's features softened.

Of course not.

"And what do you believe in?" she asked gently, wondering why she'd never paid much attention to what he truly thought or wanted or needed.

A rare, genuine smile curved his lips upward. "This."

Two skillful fingers were suddenly tracing patterns on her thigh.

"With you," he said, so quietly she thought she'd imagined it.

She was ready to ignore everything and push him off, but he moved again, cold rosary slinking down her thigh.

"Do you want to know what's been... wrong this past month?" he asked, his weight pressing against her.

Kagome nodded numbly, staring at his tanned cheek.

"You were sleeping," he murmured into her neck. "And Inuyasha wasn't there." Teeth dragging over heated flesh. "And you came to me."

Kagome's thighs clenched, her throat dry. "No. No, I didn't—"

"You'd had a nightmare," he pushed on, pausing. "Told me you were going to die." Muscles tensing. "I told you you weren't." Deep breath. "Slept in my lap for hours." Wicked grin. "Touched me inappropriately."

And even though she couldn't remember, Kagome arched off the ground, tangling her fingers in her skirt. "That doesn't mean I—"

"No," said Miroku with a tiny shrug, bringing his lips near hers. "But I couldn't help but wonder," he murmured, "if you'd touch me like that again."

A slick, wet ache surged through her, her breath mixing with his.

Touched him...?

Dizzy and overwhelmed, Kagome reached for his cheek, brushing the back of her hand across it. "And—and what else have you been hiding from me?"

"Our fourteen illegitimate children."

Kagome giggled softly, feeling very, very young.

"Too bad I do," she murmured, removing his hand from her thigh, almost wishing she could keep it there and not feel so guilty.

Miroku groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll regret this—but what?"

"I believe in... in what you don't. Because I have to."

Miroku opened his eyes slowly, hand back in action, cupping her thigh.

"I could lie," he offered with a boyish grin.

Kagome took a moment to memorize this stolen little moment of complete and utter wrongness—the persistent, comforting scent of sake and tea and chocolate; the feel of his fingers on her (previously) untouched skin; the continual shiver of excitement crawling up her spine; the achy warmth pooling deep in her stomach—then touched his bare chest and said, in a soft, quiet whisper, hoping he wouldn't actually hear her:

"Please do, Miroku-sama."

Author's Note: Yo. I said two parts, remember? ^_^

Final Warning: Really, really wrong. You're allowed to hate it.

Two:

Gambit: A voluntary sacrifice of a pawn with the idea of gaining the lead, or some other compensating factor.

Inuyasha fucking hated her.

He hated her with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

And when the bitch woke up again, he was going to show her exactly how much he hated her.

Well, amended Inuyasha furiously, if she woke up again.

"Inuyasha," came a soft murmur in his ear.

Inuyasha started.

"Inuyasha," yawned Sango. "Are we there yet?"

Inuyasha fumed silently and tightened his grip on her stupid knees. "I thought you were asleep," he growled.

Sango yawned again, jaw digging into his left shoulder. "My concussion aside," she began, deceptively serene, "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

Inuyasha cringed. "L-look, I'm carrying you, okay?"

Sango huffed, wrapping her arms around his neck—harder—dangerously close to cutting off his air supply. "You wouldn't have to carry me if you weren't such an IDIOT."

Inuyasha bared his fangs, foaming at the mouth. "It's your own damn fault," he grumbled, but made sure she wouldn't actually hear him.

Sango pulled on his ears, wrinkling her nose. "The next time I say duck, DUCK. I'm sick of rescuing you from MOSQUITOES!"

Inuyasha muttered something under his breath, choking on her damn hair.

"What was that, Inu-ya-sha?" asked Sango suspiciously, the daggers strapped to her ankles digging into his sides.

"I said FINE!"

Curled on top of Inuyasha's head, Kirara gave a tiny little yawn.

"And another thing—" continued Sango, bouncing on his back.

"Duck," he hummed evilly.

"What?"

Inuyasha... accidentally! leapt into a huge puddle of mud, catching a cluster of wet branches on the rebound.

Drenched and scratched, Sango clawed at his face, heels kicking at his thighs. "Put me down! Put me down so I can kill you!"

Inuyasha bit back a vindictive snicker.

"Next time I say duck, Sango..."

*

"You're not serious."

Kagome shied away, her cheeks flushed. "Of COURSE I'm serious!" She tossed a sheet at a dazed Miroku, covering her eyes. "P-put your clothes back on!"

Miroku blinked. "Kagome—"

"Clothes!"

Amused, Miroku shook his head, then reached for a white yukata hanging off a rusty old hook.

"I apologize," he grinned charmingly. "I assumed you understood the concept of undressing before—"

Kagome covered her ears, quickly shaking her head. "I-I didn't—I didn't think you'd—" Her gaze dropped to his discarded robes which, only moments prior, were sliding off his tanned hips, revealing—

Eee!

I'm too young for this!

Miroku leaned against a wall, crossing his arms with boyish confidence. "It doesn't bite."

Kagome squinted, then looked at him, head to toe and back again and—

"PANTS!"

But Miroku only dusted off his borrowed yukata, looking almost angelic.

"Ah, Kagome-sama, if we are not to indulge in..." his lips parted most invitingly, "...deep..." he took a step closer, "...philosophical discussion tonight, perhaps we ought to," he walked past her, calves and... other corded muscles tensing and stretching under his flesh, "sleep."

Kagome stumbled back under the weight of a blanket.

"After all," continued Miroku chivalrously, digging through her backpack for pillows, "sleep is conducive to forgetting."

Not this time!

Kagome scrunched up her nose, looking at the shabby futon in one of the corners. "Um... and where will you sleep, Miroku-sama?"

"Over there, of course." He brushed past her, carrying a stack of fresh, fluffy linen. "With you."

Kagome bristled. "Un hn!"

Miroku cocked his head curiously. "Unless you'd prefer I sleep on top of you, I have no other choice."

Kagome spluttered for a moment, trying so very hard not to picture him sleeping on top of her, then pushed him out of the way and lunged for the futon. "Mine!"

Miroku lowered his head, shoulders shaking, the yukata barely brushing the middle of his very naked thighs.

Feeling chagrined, Kagome quietly held out a hand. "Fine. But if you come near me with that... that," her eyes involuntarily scanned the dark abdominal muscles barely poking out, "THING, I will... um... do things to it!"

Miroku handed her a pillow. "Please do, Kagome-sama."

Embarrassed beyond belief, Kagome cried out, the stupid deep ache inside her intensifying, making her bite her lips and clench her thighs and—

—soon, the bed was nice and soft and light and made, which meant she had to stop stalling and... and get in.

Miroku, clearly unconcerned and unashamed, draped himself across the futon like everything on it—including Kagome—belonged to him, stretching sinuously and grinning at her. "Mm. Perfect."

Kagome had trouble disagreeing.

He looked so... so...

Happy.

Why?

Reluctantly, she changed into her stuffy pink pajamas ("Turn around! And no peeking! I-I know where you sleep!") and crawled in next to him, steadfastly ignoring the pang in her heart and... um, other parts.

"You're awfully flushed, Kagome-sama," he commented, arranging his features into a concerned frown. "Perhaps you ought to take all your clothes off."

"I'm not letting you see me naked!"

"Mou," sighed Miroku. "You saw me, Kagome-sama," he pointed out helpfully.

"Thankfully, not very well!" she lied, thrusting a pillow at him. "Good night!"

Miroku said nothing.

Kagome frowned into her pillow.

Stupid monk, thinking he can—

She squeed abruptly, arching off the futon.

"Sorry," he gave a low, lazy mewl. "I forgot you were there."

Panting wildly, Kagome touched two stiff fingers to her behind, peeling his stupid hand off.

"Miroku-sama, please," she pleaded, "please remember your Buddhist training or something!"

"Ah," he chuckled, "perhaps I should warn you my indoctrination consisted of warm liqueur and even warmer—"

Kagome smothered him with a pillow.

"Kagome-sama!" he choked blissfully, voice muffled.

Kagome held the pillow in place, muttering veiled obscenities.

"You know," he smirked, grabbing her wrist and pushing the pillow off his face. "This isn't helping."

Kagome froze, her knee dropping between his legs. "I—" A warm hardness poked against her belly, and she coughed wildly. "G-good night, Miroku-sama!"

Scrambling off him, she reached for her blanket and hid under it, huddling, eyes tightly shut.

And slowly, her heart stopped trying to fracture her ribs, her eyes fluttered open, her muscles relaxed, and—

Miroku was hovering over her.

Kagome froze, inner thighs oddly slick.

Miroku peeled back her coverlet, giving her a ridiculously amused look.

"Good night," he smiled warmly, pulling the blanket to her chin and tucking her in.

And as Kagome listened to the rustle of cloth while he found a comfortable position (away from her!), she wondered why she couldn't stop shaking.

It—it's cold, that's all.

For fifteen minutes, she dared not move, scheming wildly.

I'm going to make Inuyasha kill him. Kill him and then revive him so I can kill him myself. Kill him and—

Why was it so damn hot in this stupid hot room!

Frustrated and itchy, Kagome kicked off her covers, inhaling deeply and staring at the dark ceiling.

She wiggled her toes and thought about the general uselessness of her stupid, stupid, hot pajamas.

Eyes narrowed, she turned her head to observe Miroku.

Miroku, who was sleeping, quite comfortably—the bastard!—stomach down, white yukata rumpled and tight and stretching over his muscled shoulders and slightly damp where his spine met the dimples of his—

Kagome quickly averted her eyes.

Why?

Why couldn't he just wear something down there?

And also...

She needed to take her pajamas OFF.

Or—or she would... would suffocate, yes!

So, giving herself a mental pat on the back, she wiggled out of her pajama bottoms, toeing them off and away.

Slightly better.

Miroku shifted in his sleep, the sheet around his thighs slipping further down.

Kagome's eyes widened.

I... I don't want to see—I don't—I—

Miroku's hair spilled across the pillow as he hugged it closer.

Kagome giggled.

It's okay, she thought giddily, he's asleep. So! She could... she could take off her pajama top. B-because, well, it was hot and he was asleep and besides, she had a shirt underneath! Granted, it was horribly flimsy and see-through and tickled her skin quite oddly, but...

Kagome sat up and shrugged out of her pajama top, tossing it aside and checking to see if Shippou was asleep.

Only because I'm worried about his... well-being! Not—not because I'm going to... to do anything he shouldn't see!

Determined, she poked Miroku's forehead.

He didn't stir.

Kagome tipped back down, still unusually restless. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeveless shirt, casting surreptitious glances Miroku's way.

He was still sleeping and the rain was still falling and now she was cold.

Grumpy and jittery, Kagome huffed and turned on her side, staring at a sleeping Miroku.

A deep, persistent itch tore at the inside of her bellybutton.

What am I doing?

Horrified, she shut her eyes tightly and decided.

Y-yes, she would dress before he woke up and, and—

—Miroku's hand dropped to the mat, incredibly close to... to...

Kagome's eyes widened in horror.

His fingers were relaxed and slightly curled and... two of them were... almost... brushing against...

Eee!

Panicky and petrified, Kagome held her breath.

Okay.

OKAY, she could do this!

She could reach down and toss his hand away. Far, far away.

With a small mental nod, Kagome shifted her shoulders, willing her arms to cooperate. But involuntarily, her hips jerked slightly forward and—

There was contact.

A tragically unfamiliar shiver coiled low, traveling upwards, past her navel, straight to her breasts.

Fearing her breathing alone would wake Miroku, Kagome froze, trying to assess the situation.

Still salvageable!

After all, his fingers were... were barely brushing across her panties and... and—he was asleep, for heaven's sake!

Pulse racing and cheeks burning, Kagome moved very, very slowly.

Her trembling hands wrapped around Miroku's warm wrist—

—his fingers twitched in response—

—and a short, blunt nail scraped across—

Startled, Kagome gave a soft gasp, completely frozen and burning and feeling oddly slick where he'd...

Run.

Run fast!

Run fast and never tell anyone about this!

But instead, Kagome's grip on Miroku's wrist loosened and, with a small, terrified frown, she scooted closer—barely an inch, but...

Miroku grunted in his sleep, shifting a leg and tangling himself deeper into the sheets.

Shivering, Kagome stiffened.

Please... please don't wake up.

Slowly, Miroku's head turned towards her, but—but his eyes were closed! And... and his hair was falling across his dark cheeks and his bare neck, and he was—he was really pretty.

Features softening, Kagome moved closer. She'd only meant to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear (so he could—so he could sleep better!), but her whole body moved without her consent, bringing her hips closer to his hand and suddenly—

His hand...

His hand was buried deep between her legs.

And it was her fault.

Horrified, Kagome twitched violently.

Of course, the sudden movement only provoked her thighs into clamping down on that wonderful, warm... eee, horrible, evil! hand.

With a tiny whimper, she shut her eyes and bit her lip.

Should she... should she have been feeling... good?

Because this was potentially an incredibly embarrassing situation. If Miroku woke up and saw... THIS...

Dangerous.

He was dangerous and—and contagious!

He was dangerous and contagious and would never, ever, let her live this down.

Right.

So why wasn't she... MOVING?

Feeling miserable and suspiciously empty, Kagome blindly reached down again.

Just move his hand.

—away!

Move his hand away, crazy idiot!

Blushing furiously, Kagome laid her palm flat against his wrist and—

Miroku's hand instinctively... cupped her, his thumb slipping deeper and hooking around the hem of her panties.

Kagome hissed in surprise, her fingers automatically digging into his skin.

Oh, god!

She swallowed frantically.

For a moment... for a moment, she thought she'd felt Miroku tense—almost like he'd woken up and... oh, god, please, no. No.

Eyes tightly shut, Kagome whimpered.

This couldn't be happening. Not to her. Not to Kagome. She was a good girl. She was Kagome. She was—

—opening her eyes.

Cautiously, her gaze traveled from her clenched thighs... up... to her hands clutching Miroku's... up... to—

Miroku's eyes.

Which were open.

With a loud, mortified eep!, Kagome pushed away, scratching at him and quickly turning over, burrowing under her discarded blanket.

Panting, she curled in on herself.

Please don't say anything. Please don't—

And, to Kagome's complete and utter astonishment (and perhaps... disappointment?), Miroku said nothing.

Suspicious, Kagome stealthily looked over her shoulder, poking her nose out of the blanket and trying to see what Miroku was doing.

And...

...he was staring at her.

His hair was sleep-mussed, and his hand hadn't moved from where she'd left it.

...so.

So maybe...

Maybe he was sleeping with his eyes open!

Maybe he wasn't really looking at her!

Maybe her stupid brain was just playing tricks on her!

Maybe—

"I know you're awake."

Kagome bit her lip, snapping her head back around. "N-no, I'm not!"

She dared a glance.

His lips curved.

"Okay," he said, and reached out with that evil hand.

And then she was nestled in his arms, her back against his chest.

"I thought you ought to know," he murmured in her ear, "I'm having the most interesting dream right now, Kagome-sama." One hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer. "And you?"

Kagome lost the ability to successfully use her lungs. "Mi—Miroku-sama, what... what are you doing?"

"Trying to peel this thing off," he replied, tugging at the blanket. "Do you mind?"

"OF COURSE I MIND, YOU STUPID PERVERT!" was what she was going to say, but...

"I can stop," she heard herself murmur instead.

Miroku's hand froze midair, the blanket falling back.

"I can stop!" she repeated stubbornly, with so much conviction she almost thought he'd believed her. "A-anytime I want!"

And then Miroku did something that left her feeling ridiculously overwhelmed and amazed and proud.

He... laughed.

A happy, pleasantly surprised lilting of his voice.

Kagome's breath caught.

And for a moment, she felt a little greedy and a little possessive of this strange, dark monk and his strange, deep laugh.

I did this, she thought with wonder, and instinctively nuzzled into the pillow, legs stretching, toes accidentally brushing against the front of his calves.

Miroku stopped laughing.

"Not here," he murmured, sounding strained. His gloved hand finally slid under the blanket. "I want," he continued in a low, affectionate manner, "to hear you." His fingers grazed the underside of her breast, his thumb teasing at her—her...

"Uhn!" she moaned, curving into him.

"Not here," he repeated desperately, panting against her neck and making her want... want... something.

And then he was kicking off his covers with a grunt and grabbing her hand and dragging her outside and pinning her to the closest wet wall.

"Here," came his muffled voice. Slowly, he lifted his head from her collarbone and looked at her as though he—as though he wanted to kiss her. His eyes were unusually dark and his hair clung to his wet face, but he mumbled, "Here's much better," and pressed his lips to her shoulder, avoiding her eyes.

Profoundly disappointed, Kagome wrapped her arms around him, frowning at the rain and feeling oddly ashamed.

She'd never—gah, she'd never kissed anyone, but... but... what was his problem? So she wouldn't exactly be excellent at it, but that was no reason to not kiss her!

Angrily, she shifted her knee, intent on shoving him away, but only succeeded in arching into him, into the warm hardness poking against her belly.

"More."

Miroku's back muscles tensed.

"More?" he asked innocently, grinning against her slippery skin.

Mortified, Kagome averted her eyes, quickly turning her head. "I didn't say that!"

Miroku looked up. "No?"

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, could see the rain dripping off his eyelashes and his unbound hair—

"I had candy for breakfast," she explained airily, wiping the rain from her forehead.

Miroku blinked.

"And I'm pretty sure its expiration date was... last month," she nodded to no one in particular. "Which means I'm having a very real hallucination."

Miroku blinked some more.

"Therefore," she whispered softly, turning to him but keeping her gaze lowered as her cheeks darkened, "I shouldn't be afraid of keeping my promise, Miroku-sama."

Miroku raised a confused eyebrow.

Kagome cringed, burning with humiliation.

To be very, very good, you idiot!

Miroku's features softened, cheeks glistening. "And if you wake up tomorrow and find it real?"

Thoughtfully, Kagome fixed her gaze on an invisible spot beyond his shoulder. "Then I will finally understand you, Miroku-sama."

Miroku tensed, eyes widening. "Why would—"

"Because I want to."

And then, he was eyeing her lips, trembling and determined and she was so sure he was going to kiss her, but he—

—slipped his gloved hand up her drenched panties instead.

"I suppose we're both hallucinating," he grinned ruefully.

His knee nudged her legs apart, other hand pushing her shirt up.

A slick, wet ache surged through her.

"Uhn," she agreed, nodding vigorously. "We're—we're not ourselves."

Wet fingers were digging into her flesh, trying to scratch her panties off.

"And who are we?" he asked, amused, his hips slowly rocking against hers.

Kagome buried her head in his slippery shoulder, giggling. "I don't know. You're the experienced one, Miroku-sama."

"Ah," he countered pleasantly, latching onto her breast, "perhaps you," he bit down lightly, "can be the young courtesan," his tongue flicked over one hardened nipple, "that's running away from her depraved master."

Kagome choked on her indignation, and was promptly distracted by his wet sleeves draping around the small of her back, drawing her into him.

"A-and, why," she shivered, "why is she running away?"

The panties were gone, pooling around her feet, caked in mud.

"Mmh, maybe," he scraped his teeth over her wet shoulder, "he was too hard on her." He gave a long, rough lick. "But now he's caught up to her." He pressed his cheek to her heart. "And he's taking her back."

A thick, sharp need lanced through her.

Helplessly, she sunk to her knees, pulling at the hem of his drenched yukata.

"And if she doesn't want him to?" she asked breathlessly, trying to wrap her fingers around his corded calves.

Miroku placed his hands on the wall, touching his forehead to one of the wooden planks and shaking beneath her fingertips.

"He's going to take her anyway."

Kagome let out a tiny whimper, pressing her head to his thigh. "Okay."

Miroku tensed.

"Kagome," he ground out, one hand tangling itself in her hair and bringing her closer.

And then she was touching him, parting his white yukata and seeking flesh.

Raindrops continued to tickle her cheeks and her breasts and her back, and her lips brushed across him briefly, experimentally.

Both of his hands were clutching her hair now, fingers weaving through her wet bangs and affectionately slicking them back.

Sleepy and warm, Kagome grazed her nails lower, clenching her impossibly slick thighs.

"That's not why," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

Miroku stiffened, throbbing in her hands.

"That's not why she was running away," continued Kagome, biting her lower lip.

Miroku's hands slid to hers, removing them slowly. "No?"

"No," she shook her head with innocence that completely belied the deep, coiling hunger inside her.

Cautiously, Miroku knelt next to her, gasping for breath.

"Was she afraid?" he asked softly, pulling her into his lap.

Kagome shook her head, her knees muddy.

"Was she worried about her... old master?" he asked carefully.

Kagome quickly shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheeks burning.

"Was she upset with—" he began with an anxious frown.

Kagome burrowed into his shoulder, his yukata brushing her thighs. "She couldn't keep her promise," she whined. "After all, he was used to women, not girls—"

Miroku's lips curled against her neck. "Did she want to keep her promise?"

Shyly, Kagome pressed her lips to his shoulder.

The yukata slipped off it.

"He's going to corrupt her, you know," he breathed, lapping at the raindrops on her jaw, his gloved hand disappearing between her legs.

Kagome arched into his touch, shaking her head. "Nuh uh. She's going to fix him."

And then he slipped inside her, just a tiny little bit.

A surprised cry rolled off her lips as his nails dug into her skin, lowering her onto him slowly, pushing deeper inside her.

It was an unfamiliar, deceptive sort of stretchy pain and she liked it.

She hurt, but she wanted to understand this, understand him, so she sank onto him, hard, and licked a raindrop off his jaw.

For a moment, she thought he was going to break, but he shut his eyes tightly and moved.

A slow, curling itch unfurled inside her.

"D-deeper," she said, perhaps out loud.

She felt full and wet and hot and he was just as incoherent, so she curved around him, wishing desperately to have all of him inside her, all around her, forever.

"If. Only," he grunted in reply, and she realized she'd been whispering in his ear.

The rain stopped.

She shimmied against him, threading her fingers through his hair. "S-stop."

Miroku didn't.

"Mi—"

He angled his torso, grunted, and then he was buried to the hilt and—

"Mi—ro—ku," she whimpered, gulping and swallowing air, the roof is going to—

The hut's thick thatch gave a crackling squeak, then...

...collapsed with a flourish, pelting them with a strong stream of cold water.

Miroku stopped moving, drenched, water dripping from his jaw.

Frozen, Kagome gave him a nervous glance. "Um... omen?"

Miroku scowled. "No," he managed sharply, running a thumb over her bottom lip.

Kagome raised her hips slowly, guiltily, feeling every ridge as he slipped out.

"Kagome," he began, and she thought she must have had a giant, "Take me!" pinned to her chest because he wasn't letting go and he wasn't—

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled inarticulately. "I'm an idiot." Her throat constricted. "Inuyasha was right."

Miroku's expression darkened immensely.

"Ah," he said sharply, drawing away from her as she slumped against a wall. "Inuyasha."

Kagome rubbed her eyes, curling up and wishing she'd just stop burning up. "Y-yeah. He always says how stupid I am and—"

And then Miroku was in her face, watching her with a quiet fury. "Is Inuyasha that important?"

To you? lingered in the air, so Kagome straightened.

"Of-of course," she rushed to reply. "I promised to be with him forever. And—" you and Shippou and Sango and—

"I see," he said but didn't.

"No, I meant—"

But he cupped her cheeks, smushing them between his wet palms, bangs falling across his narrowed eyes. "Start your forever in the morning."

And then he was spreading her legs and taking off her dirty shirt and filling her so completely.

Her muscles contracted with each pull, an involuntary little cry of delight breaking her in half as he pushed her to the muddy ground, making her writhe beneath him, making her want him, hard, hot, wet, tight, angry—

"It's just a cock, Kagome," he growled in her ear. "Doesn't matter who it belongs to, does it?"

Kagome arched off the ground, back and hips and legs slippery. Must have heard him wrong. Must have—

He withdrew, drawing her closer to his slick chest. "You're not different," he mumbled blankly, then tensed with determination, sheathed inside her again. "So," he challenged, one, two, three deep strokes later, "tell me what you want."

"W-what?" was all she could manage, the odd, unfamiliar friction within her mounting.

Miroku palmed one of her breasts, his rosary grazing her ribs. "—what. You. Want."

Kagome knew she should've yelled, screamed, hit him, but all that mattered was this heavy pressure twisting through her, this aching need that kept hitching as he said these... horrible words and did these horrible things—

"What is it called, Kagome-sama?" he urged softly.

"A... a..." she began, then curved around him, trying to keep him inside.

"A cock," he murmured, slowly pulling out.

Kagome's eyes shot open.

She was throbbing and trembling and so close. "Okay."

Miroku's muscles tightened. "No. Cock."

Kagome whimpered, hands flying to his behind and pulling him back to her.

Miroku groaned, voice deepening to a growl. "And what we're doing is called what?"

Her fingers dug into his flesh desperately.

"Fucking, Kagome," he ground out angrily, but thrust inside her anyway.

And it's wrong, wrong, wro-oh god—

Palms flat against his skin, toes curling, Kagome gasped and spread her legs wider, forcing him in deeper and—

She tumbled and fell and spilled over something really, really—

"Kagome," he groused disdainfully, buried to the hilt and rearing back to look at her.

Slightly incoherent, Kagome shook helplessly under him. "Shh," she choked out. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen—"

Haughtiness making way for worry, Miroku smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Counting," she rasped, willing her lungs to work, "all these white spots." Her hands slid off his behind, one index finger poking the empty air. "They're doing a jig. Make them stop."

Miroku buried his head in the hollow between her breasts, laughing. "You are too young for this."

Sheepishly, Kagome averted her eyes, guilt and coherence returning full force. "Oh. Uhm. I—"

"—want to do this again," he finished for her, dark eyelashes coyly sweeping upwards.

Blushing horribly, Kagome flexed her fingers.

Can we?

"Of course," continued Miroku smugly, "some of us (you) will have to, considering some of us (me) haven't..." he trailed off, nudging her hips with his.

Kagome was the very picture of astonishment. "I-I thought," she stammered, keenly aware of how thick and hard and deep inside he was. "I thought we—we'd... you know—at... at the same time..."

Miroku watched her for a moment, expression unreadable. "I'm incredibly tempted to make you turn around," he said darkly, "but I suppose you'd rather save that particular position for Inuyasha."

Kagome's throat went dry.

Was he insane?

And also, what was he talking about?

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, humiliated. "I didn't mean to... before you... I-I'm sorry."

Miroku's eyes widened a fraction. "Don't—don't apologize," he said, a touch of embarrassment softening his voice.

Shyly, Kagome looked up at him, studying his features. "Is this why you were, um... making friends with three women?"

Miroku's lips curved in mild surprise. "Partially," he replied, hardening inside her.

A slow, gritty stretch of muscle and she was tightening around him.

He shut his eyes, grimacing. "And partially," he drawled, dark blue eyes narrowing in pleasure, "because none of them," low, satisfied growl, "are this," slow, deep stroke, "tight."

Kagome wrapped her legs around him, turning her head and watching his gloved wrist. "How," she gasped out, "how many?"

Slick, achy itch as he pulled out halfway. "What?"

She moved her hips, climbing higher and wishing she didn't feel like crying. "How. Many. Girls?"

Deep, shallow, quick, his hands on her hips, bruising— "One."

Biting her lip, "F-fine," soft gasp or three, "how many," biting into his shoulder lightly, "women?"

Miroku didn't reply.

Okay.

Okay, she thought. I can be selfish, too.

"It's called f-fucking," she whispered, mentally bleaching her brain.

Stunned, Miroku surged against her. "Ka—fuck!"

He came inside her with a surprised snarl and collapsed atop her, trembling, his hair tickling her ribs, an unfamiliar sticky warmth trickling into her—

Quietly, Kagome pried his fingers off her hips and squirmed out underneath him.

"Hot spring," she mumbled, rising shakily. "Somewhere." Waved her hand, avoiding his eyes. "Off to find it." Bent down to pick up her shirt and panties. "I'm—"

His hand caught hers. "Not going alone."

Startled, she turned to him.

"But please," he motioned in the general direction of his abdomen. "Give me five minutes to recover!"

Despite herself, Kagome tittered.

.

"You know, it's going to be hard..."

Miroku dipped into the water, then quickly surfaced, running his fingers through his wet hair to shake the excess off.

Guiltily, Kagome averted her eyes.

"It already is," he smirked lasciviously. "The water's not cold enough."

Kagome bristled. "To pretend, I mean!"

Miroku gave her an odd smirk.

"Ah, Kagome-sama," he sighed dramatically, wading through the water to glance down at her, "our little group is nothing if not an expert at pretense."

Kagome frowned, splashing some water his way. "I know, but... but how am I going to be all outraged when Sango catches you peeking in on us when we're taking a—"

Miroku gave her a small smile.

Kagome froze.

"You're leaving," she said. It wasn't a question.

Miroku's jaw clenched visibly. "I can't possibly stay."

"I won't tell anyone," she said quickly.

Miroku shook his head ruefully. "It's not that."

"And I promise to never mention it!"

"No, Kagome—"

"Please, Miroku... I mean, Miroku-sama, I won't let anyone find out—you won't be safe on your own—and I can't—"

"Kagome!"

Kagome snapped to attention.

"I don't want to see you with him," she thought she heard him say, but she must have imagined it because Miroku's lips were moving, but not so much to form words as...

...trail down her temple.

"I apologize," he said, as he scooped her up and into his arms, water dripping everywhere, "but I don't know any other way to make you," his fingers gripped the underside of her knees, "shut up."

Kagome pondered resisting, but then he was lowering her onto the shore, and her pout disappeared as he parted her legs and kissed her inner thigh and—

"M—no," she tried, but he shot her a wicked grin.

"Secretly, you really, really want me to," he grinned, touching his tongue to his teeth and looking so incredibly handsome she thought she must have been seriously blind before.

"Uhn," she nodded, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

"Or... not so secretly," he muttered, but sounded oddly pleased.

.

"—and so the alienated antihero rages against the optimistic assumptions of rationalist humanism—"

"Take off your clothes."

Kagome swatted at him. "I'm trying to teach you things! Pay attention!"

Sugary-sweet, Miroku ran a hand over her bare midriff with an admonishing tsk, "Just one more time, Kagome-sama."

Kagome faltered, almost toppling over the log she was sitting on. "N-no."

Miroku glanced at her muddy gym shorts, pointing at the hut. "It's either that or cleaning the mess inside before Shippou wakes up."

Kagome squirmed, blustering, "But my deep philosophical discussion..."

"...can wait," he nodded warmly.

Kagome glanced at him.

A tiny dark eyelash was stuck to his cheek, so she—

—pounced.

"Kagome!" he shouted as he caught her, "what are you—"

She caught the eyelash between her thumb and forefinger. "Make a wish!"

Miroku blinked, sitting her next to him. "Why?"

"Because I have your eyelash!"

Miroku scratched the back of his neck anxiously. "I broke you. I broke you and now you've gone insane."

Kagome giggled. "You didn't break me! It's just this thing my mom did for Souta and me when we were little."

Miroku scrunched up his nose. "Was she half-dressed, too? Because that's a little... odd."

Kagome flushed. "Shut up and give me your hand."

A sly grin spread over his lips. "Don't mind if I—"

Kagome arched an eyebrow.

He deflated with a sigh. "Fine."

Kagome took his proffered hand and touched her index finger to his, trapping the eyelash in between.

"Okay," she said excitedly, "you have to make a wish, then pick who you think the eyelash will stick to. If you guess right, your wish'll come true."

Miroku gave her a skeptical glance, but frowned in concentration anyway.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Wait," he answered, hiding a smirk, "my wish is slightly detailed."

Kagome blushed. "I forgot to tell you. You can't use it for evil."

Miroku's bushy brows drew together. "You never said I couldn't."

"Well, I'm saying it now!" she huffed, glancing away and sticking her nose in the air. "Wish for something nice."

"I was wishing for something ni—"

Abruptly, Kagome kissed their joined fingers. "There! My wish is in. Your turn."

Miroku blinked. "Why did you—"

Cheeks pink, Kagome scrunched up her nose. "You have to kiss it for luck."

"Oh."

And then he was kissing it for luck.

Except, instead of placing a quick, casual peck on their fingers, he was kissing her...

...breast.

"Miroku-sama," she breathed, trying to push him away with her other hand. "I meant the—"

"Again, you didn't specify—" he began studiously, tilting his head and looking like an impish five-year-old.

"JUST PICK ALREADY!" growled Kagome, poking his stupid, warm chest.

Absurdly focused, Miroku glanced at their fingers.

"You," he said. "It's going to stick to you."

A chill shot up her spine. "F-fine. One, two, three—"

Their fingers came apart, and the tiny dark lash was—

"I'm never playing this stupid game with you again," sighed Kagome, puffing the eyelash off her thumb.

Miroku grinned victoriously.

"What was your wish?" he asked softly.

Kagome flushed.

Lie.

"To wake up," she said honestly.

Miroku winced. "I see." He glanced away with a scowl. "How unfortunate I won."

Kagome shifted awkwardly. "That's not what I m—"

But Miroku had already pasted a nonchalant smile on his face. "It shouldn't be so bad, you know."

Kagome blinked. "What shouldn't?"

"Bearing my child."

Kagome's heart stopped. "W-what?"

Miroku waved a dismissive hand. "I realize you regret... what happened, and I suppose you have every right to." He looked away. "However, I don't." His fingers splayed over his bare knees. "For a while now, I've been—"

"No, wait—Miroku—you don't understand," she began frantically, there's the pill and—

"—watching you with Shippou and the village children—"

"Hold on!"

"—and after careful deliberation (and many, many internal conflicts), I've—"

"Miroku!"

"—decided I want no one else—"

"Miroku-sama—"

"—to be the mother of my child."

"Why won't you listen to m—hh?" Frozen to her spot, Kagome swallowed. "W-what?"

Miroku finally looked at her, and she could've sworn his cheeks were unnaturally dark, but he gave a small nod and explained. "It shouldn't be long before the kazaana..." he trailed off, frowning with determination. "You won't have to be around me for long. But I need a successor, Kagome-sama." His tone changed slightly. "When I die, I want my child to have everything I want for him." His features softened. "And that absolutely has to include you."

Kagome said nothing.

"Kagome?" he asked cautiously, his back muscles stiffening. "I—I'm sure Inuyasha will... forgive you and care for you regardless of—"

Kagome burst into tears.

Startled, Miroku froze.

"A-ah," he began uncomfortably. "Perhaps—"

Kagome launched herself at him.

"You're so... so stupid, you stupid idiot!" she bawled, trying to smother him. "What makes you think you can just—just say something like that and expect me to not want to kill you?"

Except, I don't want you to EVER die, you stupid, stupid idiot.

Confused, Miroku pried her fingers off him. "I apologize," he mumbled, "but which part, specifically, made you homicidal?"

Kagome sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes. "All of it."

Miroku tensed. "Ah."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"What was your wish?" she asked suddenly.

Miroku twitched slightly. "Nothing."

Halfheartedly, Kagome glanced at the fire. "Fine. Don't tell me."

Miroku was quiet for a long moment, then—

"The child—"

Kagome's head snapped up. "Do you really think I would've... done... um... things with you if I thought I'd get pregnant?" Blushing painfully, she grabbed the nearest branch and poked the fire. "Remember when I was explaining things about the future to Shippou-chan?"

Miroku frowned. "Vaguely."

Kagome inhaled deeply. "Well, you should've paid more attention!"

Contemplatively, Miroku shifted. "So, what you're saying is... we won't have—"

Kagome shook her head quickly. "No."

And why the hell am I sorry?

"I see," said Miroku hesitantly. "Could we possibly pretend this conversation never happened?"

Kagome giggled, choking on fear. "Yes, please!"

Miroku nodded gratefully, though his posture didn't relax. Slowly, a wicked smirk overshadowed the unhappy little frown lingering around his lips.

"Odd," he said.

Startled, Kagome dropped the branch. "What is?"

Miroku raised a cocky eyebrow, sounding baffled. "You wanted me."

No—

"If you had no intention of creating a child with me," he continued prudently, "then..."

I really wanted you.

Horrified, Kagome scooted away, sliding against the mud. "W-well, it's your own fault! You got me—drunk, yeah!"

Miroku laughed.

"Don't," she said weakly. "Don't do that."

Miroku raised both eyebrows. "Don't do what?"

Don't be happy, sounded slightly psychotic, so she went with, "Gah! I need to go feel guilty now!" instead.

Miroku caught her wrist.

"It's not morning yet," he said playfully. "And I'm positive if I... try hard enough, you will be with child."

Coughing wildly, Kagome put a hand to her mouth. "You—don't—"

He pulled her closer, eyes narrowing kindly. "Picture him," he whispered in her ear.

And, strangely enough, Kagome did.

Tiny and adorable and... cursed.

But...

He doesn't get it.

He thought... he thought she didn't want his child. Thought she—

"We'd have a girl," she heard herself whisper.

Miroku's shoulders shook with repressed laughter. "Would we now?"

Kagome nodded earnestly. "And Shippou-chan would be really protective of her."

The corners of Miroku's lips twitched slightly.

"And my mom would kidnap her," giggled Kagome, shaking her head. "We'd get her back every other day, with a million and five braids and—"

Miroku's hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her against the mud.

Kagome trailed off.

Her shorts, hardened with dry mud, were sliding off her slowly, down her thighs, over her knees, pushed off to the side, and once he was between her legs, fitting so perfectly, she asked, "Would it hurt?"

He lowered his chest to hers, one hand palming her breast and drawing up.

"The kazaana, I mean," she added softly, digging her nails into the mud.

His lips brushed over her left eyebrow.

"Were you born with it?"

His gloved hand slid to her inner thighs, cold fingers parting her, even colder beads tickling her flesh.

"Miroku, please."

He rubbed her absentmindedly. "I don't remember."

She arched her back, hair matted to the mud, wondering if he'd been tucked away as a baby, tiny hand wrapped in a rosary bigger than his whole arm, if—

Inside.

He was inside her again.

And she must have been insane.

She must have been insane to agree to never do this—feel this—again.

.

"Why?" she asked, staring at the moon through her fingers.

She felt him shrug beside her. "Life is short even when you're not cursed with a—"

"But why now?"

Miroku slid a lazy hand over his eyes. "Aside from the fact that we were finally alone, you mean?"

Kagome nodded quietly, turning to him. "If your excuse for... this... is that life is short... why didn't," she coughed, blushing furiously, "...why didn't you ask me before?"

Miroku spluttered. "I asked you the first time I saw you!"

Kagome huffed. "I mean really asked me."

"You wouldn't have said yes," he replied calmly, sitting up. "Actually, I'm relatively positive you didn't say yes tonight, either."

Kagome squirmed. "What would be the point in saying it if we're going to forget in a few hours?" she asked tentatively, casting a stealthy glance at him, watching his expression.

Which didn't change. "So. Almonds."

Kagome giggled, plucking at the dirty pebbles under their even dirtier blanket. "What?"

"You don't like almonds."

Kagome sat up, raising both eyebrows and poking his bare chest. "I broke you!"

A small smile escaped his lips. "You didn't break me." He glanced away, almost meekly. "You've told me you don't like your cat, brother, grandfather, geometry, and almonds." He turned those dark eyes on her. "Now I wouldn't mind hearing what you like."

"You," she replied automatically, then quickly covered her mouth. "A-and Inuyasha and Shippou-chan and Sango-chan and... um... as friends and...!"

Miroku cut her off. "Kagome," he began, clearly uncomfortable. "I... I value your friendship," he said seriously, dark bangs hiding his eyes. "So I'm going to try."

Kagome's little heart fluttered trustingly.

Miroku stood up, offering her a hand. "I'm going to try," his eyes softened considerably as she took his hand, an attractive smirk creeping to his lips, "to use these last few hours for some of the most despicable, dirty—"

Kagome giggled, swatting him away. "I don't think I've seen that listed under the definition of friendship, Miroku-sama!"

"Ah," he complained. "Could you possibly check again?" Forlorn sniffle. "Because I really wanted to," he brushed his cheek against hers, "take you."

"W-what, where?"

"Un," he nodded somberly. "On that rock over there. And in that rosebush behind me. And—"

Kagome peeked over his shoulder, placing a finger to her chin. "That would've hurt!"

Miroku grinned, offering her a nonchalant pout. "Not necessarily."

Kagome sniffled. "I'd sooner pick the rock."

"Okay."

And then she was giggling happily, pinned under him on said rock.

Okay.

.

"How can you not be tired yet?"

Kagome scrunched up her nose, hunched over her backpack. "I don't know."

Miroku was watching her from the futon, leaning on his elbow. "It's the candy."

Kagome shot him an offended glare, biting off a piece of chocolate. "It's you."

Miroku's lips twitched. "Clarify."

"I don't know!" she shrieked, wondering if Shippou would sleep through anything. "The more..." she began, confused, "the more you tell me, the more I want to know about you. You know?"

Miroku glanced at her skeptically.

Huffing, Kagome stuck a red lollipop in her mouth, crossing her arms and staring at his naked chest. "Kinda like one of those lollipops that has something cool in the center. You know, like gum or chocolate or something."

Miroku remained quiet, slowly drawing up to his knees.

Sucking on the inside of her cheeks and scraping her tongue against the cherry flavor, Kagome wagged a finger in his face, mumbling, "I keep wondering if I'll ever get to the center with you." She took the lollipop out. "And if I do, what'll be there."

Miroku was suddenly much closer, kneeling in front of her, the sheet bunched around his waist. "You really need a nap."

"Bah!" she huffed. "Leave me alone. You have your weird analogies, I have mine."

Miroku gave a wistful sigh, eyeing her mouth.

Kagome paused.

She couldn't help it.

Her tongue darted out, licking the top of the lollipop.

"Nhh," he groaned.

Kagome gave another slow lick, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Kagome," he growled.

She froze, suddenly aching. "Yes?"

He leaned into her, palms flat against the floorboards. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"

"N-no," she stammered, lowering the lollipop onto her backpack then quickly plopping herself down on the futon.

With a frustrated groan, Miroku sprawled next to her, hands behind his head, eyes tightly shut. "Now I can't sleep."

Kagome giggled. "Oh, no!" she mocked affectionately. "It's the candy!"

Miroku glared at her, nodding his chin at the rumpled linen around his hips. "It's you."

Kagome grew serious, features softening.

Timidly, she reached for the sheet, tangling her fingers around the fabric.

Miroku's eyes widened.

Completely humiliated, Kagome buried her head in his shoulder, sliding her hand under the sheet very, very slowly. "I'm sorry," she apologized to his neck. "I'm not—I'm not going to be good at this."

Miroku hardened in her hand, throbbing, his head arching off the pillow.

Shocked, Kagome loosened her grip, watching his abdominal muscles flex and tighten. His pulse was racing under her cheek and he was thrusting into her hand andshe was doing this to him!

Curious and stunned, she let go and slid her hips lower, inching down until she was practically straddling his knees and facing his navel, her sleeves tickling his hipbones.

With trembling fingers, she peeled the warm sheet off, and gripped him again.

"Oh, fuck," he hissed, turning his head and digging his nails into the futon.

Startled, Kagome gasped for breath, then tentatively lowered her head and—

—licked him.

Miroku gave a small, incoherent cry, fisting his hands in her hair.

Kagome paused, a tiny restless smile chasing across her features. "Shippou's going to wake up if you don't sh—"

Miroku opened his eyes.

Kagome's breath caught.

That's him.

This is who he really is.

Staring at her through half-lidded eyes, dark and demanding and doomed.

Her hair spilled over his sweat-slicked stomach, her lips pressed against him, her nails grazed so much lower, and he dug his heels into the futon as he came, coating her palms.

A surprised, flustered laugh slipped past her lips. "Um... so... maybe not so much like a lollipop as a... bottle of champagne."

Miroku grinned sleepily, struggling for breath. Idly, he reached for his outer robe—which, coincidentally, Kagome was wearing—and pulled her on top of him.

"We're going to have to... burn all these sheets and pillows," she mumbled, wiping her hands off on a random wet pillow.

"Tomorrow," he yawned, closing his eyes and rolling her under him.

Kagome thumped her head against his pillow, hair snagging on a tiny button. "A-and we have to wake up before Shippou-chan," she murmured worriedly, staring at the ceiling.

Miroku made a lazy little noise, and crawled down her body.

"I'm serious," said Kagome softly, biting her bottom lip. "What if... what if he sees us like this?"

Miroku pressed his cheek to her stomach, sprawling between her legs. "I don't care."

Kagome closed her eyes. "He'd tell the others..."

"I don't care," said Miroku and, nestled so peacefully, with one hand palming her breast and the other curled under him, he fell asleep.

Kagome wasn't as lucky.

*

Inuyasha could smell him.

He could smell the bastard and—

"Inuyasha," said Sango exasperatedly. "Stop that."

Kirara meowed loudly.

Annoyed, Inuyasha narrowed his eyes. "Stop telling me what to do." Nevertheless, he obeyed and stopped obsessively cracking his scratched knuckles.

"You two distract her, okay," he said maniacally, gritting his teeth in anticipation.

Sango hit him. "I am not going to distract Kagome-chan just so you can KILL Shippou!"

Inuyasha rubbed his aching head, pleading with her, "L-listen, I won't even get a chance to rip into that brat if Kagome—" Wrinkling his nose, he turned to the dilapidated little hut they'd been glaring at for nearly five minutes. "Hey, Sango?"

Sango yawned, swatting at an imaginary insect. "What?"

"I smell the monk inside."

Sango's eyebrows shot up, her face a mixture of suspicion and pleasant surprise. "Houshi-sama? In there? With Kagome-chan?"

Inuyasha twitched.

Sango frowned. "W-what would houshi-sama—"

A loud squeal interrupted her.

Inuyasha and Sango jumped up and plastered themselves against the blanketed doorway.

"You're doing it wrong, Miroku-sama!" came Kagome's voice.

"Mh hmm. I'm afraid you'll have to show me again."

Giggle. "You have to put it right..." tiny moan, "...here."

Matching groan of pleasure. "Ah. I'm afraid it's too tight, Kagome-sama. I'm surprised I could fit it in before."

"Hold on, let me try. Sometimes you just have to cram it in!"

"Kagome-sama, no. It's too big. You'll get hurt!"

Sango and Inuyasha exchanged horrified glances, ears pressed to the dusty blanket.

"Ah, there! Now pull it out and push harder, Miroku-sama! Harder!"

Grunt. "Perhaps we should wait for Inuyasha."

More giggling. "I'm sure you're better at this." Softly. "Miroku-sama."

Inuyasha's left eye practically popped out.

He raised a clawed hand to rip at the blanket, but Sango beat him to it.

"GET OFF HER, YOU PERVERT!" she screamed as she tumbled through the door, tiny human fangs bared.

Petrified, Inuyasha followed her in.

And froze.

Shippou was sprawled atop a pile of blankets, licking one of those damn poké things. Sango was staring at the scene speechlessly, Hiraikotsu dangling off her fingers. Kirara was batting her tails, licking a fluffy paw. And Miroku and Kagome...

...were bent over Kagome's ugly backpack.

Fully clothed.

Kagome blinked, one hand frozen midair, holding a ramen cup. "Um... hi?"

Miroku raised an eyebrow, both hands lingering on the taut string holding the backpack together. "Come to help us pack?"

Inuyasha reached for the Tetsusaiga.

*

"—don't ask me, they've been like that forever!" complained Shippou, pointing an accusing paw at Miroku and Kagome.

Kagome stopped chatting with Miroku and almost ran into a tree, her eyes widening. "Wh—like what?"

Inuyasha sniffed her suspiciously, pushing her forward until she almost tripped over a pebble.

Miroku frowned, clearing his throat and hoisting the backpack onto the hanyou's back. "Inuyasha, is there something the matter?"

Slumping under the weight, Inuyasha glanced at him, then at Kagome, then back at Miroku. "You're walking too close to each other."

Miroku hid a grin.

"Kagome-chan," began Sango, throwing Miroku murderous glances. "He didn't... he wasn't—"

"Don't worry, Sango-chan!" replied Kagome a little too quickly. "He... behaved."

Going to burn in hell. Going to burn in hell. Going to—

"Indeed," assured Miroku valiantly, spreading his arms toward the forest ahead. "I made certain Kagome-sama was in the throes of passion all night! Like a perfect gentleman would."

Hastily, Kagome gripped Sango's forearm, trying to stop her from slicing Miroku in half with her Hiraikotsu. "He-he's lying!"

Because technically...

"Oh, forgive me," amended Miroku, highly amused, "I forgot. Half of the morning, too."

Kagome twitched uncontrollably, and let Sango go.

Several concussions later, Miroku was glaring at Kagome.

Kagome smiled sheepishly, trying so very, very hard not to touch his bruises.

After all, they'd agreed to be friends.

And Kagome was—she was—well, she was almost okay with that.

I mean, it WAS my idea and all...

"I still don't understand," sniffed Sango, "how you found each other."

Something in Kagome's chest loosened.

And vanished immediately.

Oh.

She meant literally, not figuratively. Eheh.

Luckily, Shippou came to her rescue. "Oh! Miroku picked us up at one of those places where people pay for what my mom and dad—"

Inuyasha drop-kicked him further up the dirt path.

Sango gaped at Kagome. "Kagome-chan! What were you—what were you doing in such a place!"

Kagome turned a dozen shades of red. "I-I was lost and, um..."

Sango leaned in closer to whisper, "Are the girls there pretty?"

Kagome blinked.

"Never mind!" said Sango, mortified, and quickly changed the topic. "At least you weren't attacked by anyone." Under her breath, she added, "Unlike us."

Eyebrow twitching, Kagome placed a hand on Sango's shoulder. "What happened?"

Sango puffed away her bangs. "Inuyasha's a jerk."

Kagome giggled. "What'd he do?"

Inuyasha flicked them both off. "The bitch was asking for it."

"He attacked some defenseless old lady—"

"SHE WAS A DEMON!"

"—and got us kicked out of three villages—"

"KEH!"

"—and I had to save him every five minutes—"

Inuyasha exploded. "SHIPPOU! Come back here so I can KILL YOU SOME MORE!" He swiped a claw in front of Sango's face. "And you! Stop spreading LIES!"

Sango gave him a chilly glance.

Inuyasha eeped, ears flattening. "I-I mean, we... we should probably get... get going. Yeah." He cleared his throat, dusted off an imaginary fleck off his shoulder, then stalked off towards a sulking Shippou.

Sango's knuckles turned white.

"Kagome-chan," she said sweetly. "What's that word... when you're not standing up or lying down...?"

Kagome bit her lip to keep from giggling. "Sitting?"

"Would you mind terribly...?"

Surreptitiously, Kagome glanced at Miroku, but he seemed awfully preoccupied staring at her bare legs, so she shouted, "Inuyasha!"

"WHAT?"

"This is going to be a horrible alliteration, but... Sango says SIT!"

Looking satisfied and evil (and scary!), Sango nodded gratefully and bounded off toward the Inuyasha-sized crater, a purring Kirara skipping after her.

Inuyasha rose shakily and leapt away, muttering curses.

Amused—and slightly curious—Kagome turned to Miroku.

"You're not wearing anything underneath that kimono, are you?" he asked calmly.

Mortified, Kagome clutched her skirt, eyes widening in horror. "Oh, um!" she rushed to explain. "I—"

Miroku sighed theatrically. "We should have told them about those two travelers we met last night."

"The innocent courtesan and the evil lecher?" she returned, a familiar heat pooling deep within her. "I thought we... we were supposed to forget that particular story."

Not that I can, but...

He pursed his lips. "Perhaps, but he stayed."

Kagome's heart sped up. "So did she. She could have just as easily ran off!"

"And," continued Miroku curtly, "considering she seems to still want the puppy—"

Inuyasha?

I... I don't...

"—he was wondering if she would remain indifferent were he to pursue other... courtesans," he murmured curiously, watching her with an odd, expectant frown.

Kagome opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Was he telling her he was going to be hitting on other girls—possibly Sango—in front of her? Was he saying he would be finding some other girl to... to give him a child? Was he asking if she'd be OKAY with that?

Was he crazy?

"Of—of course she wouldn't mind," she lied through gritted teeth. "She's already forgotten all about it!"

Miroku seemed strangely disappointed.

Kagome averted her eyes. "And-and she thinks he should go right ahead and forget it, too, 'cause obviously it wasn't any good."

Miroku stiffened, frowning deeply. "He'd like to know what the hell she's talking about."

Suddenly furious (Miroku, touching someone else, Miroku, inside of someone else—), Kagome scowled. "It must not have been good. He never even kissed her."

Miroku looked horribly taken aback.

"Maybe," she continued rambling, feeling her stomach drop with every word, "he thought she wasn't worth it. Maybe he was thinking about one of his women or something. Maybe kissing is beneath him. Maybe—"

"And maybe," he replied, almost angrily, "he hadn't ever done it before." He took a deep, frustrated breath, and frowned. "Maybe he was a fool." His knuckles turned white. "Maybe," he turned away, "he wanted to save it for... for someone... who meant something."

Kagome's heart froze painfully.

For a split second, she was on the verge of crying—crying for hours—but the ache quickly turned to anger.

"Someone who meant something?" she gritted out, scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

Miroku continued walking.

Kagome dug her feet into the dust, balling up her fists. "No one."

Miroku paused, turning his head slightly to look at her. "What?

"No one's ever going to mean something to him," she seethed quietly.

A ring on Miroku's shakujo jangled.

"Hey, how about you HURRY UP before Naraku dies of OLD AGE!" shouted Inuyasha irritably without turning around.

Sango seconded him with a wave of her hand, then sleepily trudged after Shippou.

But Kagome didn't move.

"He's selfish and a coward," she shivered, swept away by this incredible sense of loss and regret and hostility.

Miroku said nothing.

"He's conceited and stupid and looking for someone that doesn't EXIST," she said, trembling. "He'll never find her and he'll spend the rest of his life—"

Miroku kissed her.

Something inside Kagome broke.

With a tiny desperate whimper, she grabbed a handful of his robes, thinking—

I'm stealing this. I'm stealing it from someone who deserves it. I'm—

Kagome kissed him back.

And, through a haze of guilt and greed, she noticed—

Miroku...

...wanted this.

"He's found her," he panted against her lips, pushing himself away.

Kagome swayed.

"Problem is," he added calmly, wiping his lips with an odd, almost confused frown, "she's made a mistake. And he doesn't particularly want to be one." He straightened. "And also, she talks too much."

And then, he was walking away, so poised and so dignified she thought nothing could ever fluster him.

Wait.

A small, confused smile crept to her lips.

One step, two steps, three, and she was next to him, clasping her hands behind her and stretching childishly.

"I don't make mistakes, Miroku-sama," she said playfully.

Miroku choked, clearly surprised she'd even spoken to him. But he composed himself quickly, and gave a wry sniff. "Indeed," he said, quirking an annoyed eyebrow. "I'm afraid my memory's not what it used to be—do remind me again, Kagome-sama, who shattered the Shikon?"

Kagome blushed, scuffing her toe in the dirt. "That—that shouldn't count! That was an accident."

"Mistake."

"Accident!"

"Mis—"

Her fingers poked his side.

And to her complete and utter surprise, Miroku—

—blushed!

"You know... I could tell Mushin-sama about that turtle you tried to kill him with," she quipped happily.

Miroku tried to hide a smile, gently tapping his shakujo to Kagome's forehead. "Are you blackmailing me, Kagome-sama?"

"Uh hn," she shook her head piously. "I'm just sayin'... should the subject ever come up..."

Dramatically, Miroku looked to the heavens. "How deplorable! You would have me bribe you with hours of unimaginable pleasure in exchange for keeping silent?"

Kagome giggled softly.

Miroku quickly glanced behind his shoulder for any signs of the rest of the group, rested his shakujo against a helpful tree, then took a step closer.

"Or rather, not keeping silent," he murmured darkly.

Kagome shivered, brushing her fingers over—

"You two idiots coming or what?"

A thoroughly wicked grin curled Miroku's lips. "Actually—"

Kagome clamped a panicked hand over Miroku's mouth. "In a minute, Inuyasha!"

Miroku gave her a displeased glance, licking at her palm.

"I know what you would've said!" she apologized, loosening her grip and sliding her fingers to his bottom lip. "And I don't want Inuyasha to kill you. You have no stereo I could fall heir to!"

Miroku's tongue poked out, licked her fingers, sucked them into his mouth. "Ah," he murmured, then pulled her up, turned her around, and pressed himself to her behind, hard, fingers clutching her hips. "And what would I have said?"

Blushing, Kagome sank into him. "You... you know."

"Say it," he hummed.

Kagome shut her eyes tightly, itching all over. "You—"

"THIS CENTURY!" screamed Inuyasha.

Shippou turned his head briefly, scowling.

Miroku gave a deep, suffering sigh, hand straying between Kagome's legs, jaw resting on her shoulder. "Make sure we accidentally run out of ramen tonight."

Kagome choked, clamping down on his hand. "W-why?"

Two fingers, in and curling against her walls. "So I can escort you to the well, Kagome-sama," he said gruffly. Deeper, faster, warm breath washing over her neck— "And fuck you."

Kagome came with a soft cry.

For a minute, she pulsed around his fingers, choking on small gasps. His fingers slipped out, lingering on the slick flesh of her thighs. The dirt path before her narrowed, and...

You have to stop touching him eventually, idiot.

With a horrified groan, Kagome realized—

"I've turned into you!" she accused furiously, pulling her skirt down and turning around.

Miroku looked ridiculously pleased. "I warned you."

"And I warned you to STOP SLOWING US DOWN!" snarled Inuyasha, jumping in front of them. "Wh—" he sniffed the air, looked at Kagome with an odd mixture of surprise and embarrassment, then stammered, "What the hell's wrong with you? You smell like you're in heat."

Kagome died.

"Oh?" asked Miroku innocently, clasping his sticky hands. "Please explain, Inuyasha!"

Kagome paled, ready to bolt.

Inuyasha scrunched up his nose, narrowing his eyes at Miroku. "H-hey, don't get any fucking ideas, monk!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," replied Miroku virtuously, holding up a hand.

...which slid to the small of Kagome's back.

Inuyasha turned to Kagome. "Stop standing so close to him!" he grumbled. "You're giving him ideas! And he's even starting to smell like you!"

Miroku's fingers slid lower.

Kagome giggled nervously. "Oh, uhm, SHARD!"

Inuyasha jumped. "What? Where?"

"North!"

Eheh... mostly likely, at least.

Inuyasha pounded his fist, looking bloodthirsty and stomping away. "Oi, Sango, there's one north of here!"

"Think we'll make it before sundown?" asked Sango sleepily, trying not to trip over Kirara.

Inuyasha gave an annoyed snort, trying not to trip over Shippou. "We'll take a shortcut," he said obliviously, pointing his chin at the forest ahead. "Yo, monk, you remember the trail?"

"Un hn," replied Miroku, retrieved his staff, then—

—possessively grabbed Kagome's hand and began walking.

"Good, good," nodded Inuyasha to no one in particular. "There might be a village somewhere in between. We can get supplies there."

"Okay, Inuyasha!" agreed Kagome absentmindedly, touching her other hand to Miroku's arm and snuggling closer.

"And if not, we can eat the runt for dinner."

"HEY! I heard that, you stupid dog!"

"Children!" screamed Sango. "Behave!"

"Unh hmm," agreed Miroku, pecking Kagome's cheek, almost shyly.

Kagome hid a deliriously happy smile, squeezing his fingers.

"Kagome..." he grinned, watching her with an odd, flustered look.

Kagome burrowed into the crook of his shoulder.

I know.

"And—" began Inuyasha, then paused. "Who the hell are you?"

"What's it to you?" asked a suspiciously familiar voice.

Kagome froze.

Kanrinin-san!

Hide!

"Let us through, demon!" shrieked the old man, steering a frumpy old woman around Inuyasha.

"I'm not in your way, idiot!" grumped Inuyasha, but leapt aside anyway.

The old woman stepped on his foot. "I can't believe the kind of trash that's coming to our lands these days!"

The innkeeper nodded quickly. "It's abominable, yes!"

"Almost as abominable as that business you used to run when you were young!" huffed the old woman, continuing down the dirt path.

The innkeeper choked, coughing madly. "Yes, yes, good thing those days are behind us." His gaze fell to Shippou. "Hey, don't I know you?"

Shippou blinked.

The innkeeper's eyes widened. "No!" he yelped frantically. "No! We've never met!" He gripped the old woman's elbow and darted away.

Inuyasha and Sango exchanged suspicious glances, then shrugged and went on ahead, dragging a bewildered Shippou along.

Kagome tried to hide behind Miroku, burning with humiliation; Kirara perked up her ears; the innkeeper pretended not to see them, and Miroku...

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, kanrinin-san!" he greeted merrily.

The innkeeper froze, twitching.

The old woman—presumably his wife—raised an eyebrow, turning her steely gaze on the old man. "You know this filth?"

"A-ah," he laughed nervously. "Of-of course not!"

Miroku frowned thoughtfully, bringing two fingers to his chin. "If I'm not mistaken, didn't you offer me some of your best—"

"Crazy!" interrupted the innkeeper hastily. "They're nothing but a few deranged travelers, dear!"

The old woman shook her head disapprovingly. "So young and so lost to society. They almost remind me of those... people you used to know."

Miroku's eyebrow twitched.

"Miroku, don't—" began Kagome, a slight trace of panic edging her voice.

But Miroku nipped her cheek affectionately, then quickly spun her around, lifted up her skirt and... groped her bare bottom quite spectacularly.

Oh, God.

"Why, I never!" shrieked the old woman, turning to her husband with wide, wrinkled eyes. "S-such obscenity!"

Miroku grinned, twining his fingers with Kagome's.

Kirara mewled and jumped on his shoulder.

And as they began to walk, Kagome alternated between pushing him away and never letting go.

"Miroku," she began resolutely, trying to melt into him. "How old are you?"

Please—

"Nineteen," he replied without hesitation.

Kagome's heart skipped a beat or five.

Not to the center yet.

So, content and flushed, she held on and listened to the fading screeches behind them.

"—disgusting! And why do they know you? Did you reopen your little business again? DID YOU? Serving depraved children like those two?"

Fidgeting, the innkeeper scuffed his sandal in the dirt, muttering, "They aren't that bad."

"WHAT?" exploded his wife. "Not bad? Not bad? Are you saying you approve of such evils? Is that what you're saying? IS IT?"

The innkeeper paused, desperate for a distraction.

"It gets worse!" he wailed, bowing frantically at his wife. "They're siblings!"

The End