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The pounding in his ears made Inuyasha groan and turn his head from side to side. He opened his eyes; the room was swimming, and he was struggling to figure out where he was or what he was doing.
Soft; cozy; warm.
Too warm.
Bed. He was in bed?
The light filtering in through the windows told him that it was morning...maybe around 9am, based on the angle of the light. He grunted, and shielded his eyes from the sun.
Why...what in the fuck had he been up to the night before? Why did he feel like absolute shit?
The pounding again was hammering at his skull: forceful, three raps against his brain, then another three. It wasn’t going away when he closed his eyes, even though his head felt a little bit better when he did so, nor was it going away when he pulled the covers over his head.
This time, the rapping sounded a little further away, and a little more like a knock, as opposed to a pounding. He sat up, and, with a few heavy and slow blinks of his eyes, he looked around the room.
He was...he was in his apartment, yes. This was, in fact, his bedroom. It was, in fact, morning. Which meant that…
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Someone was knocking on his apartment door.
Someone who, if he could gauge by how long he’d been hearing the knocking, wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
“All right!” he bellowed, then cringed as his voice sounded much too loud, especially for his poor, sensitive ears; he could feel them drooping against his skull as he pushed himself out of bed. He careened out of the bedroom, then lurched down the hall to the front door, passing the bathroom on the way into the main living area, which consisted of a living room and a small galley kitchen.
The bangs on the door were still coming through, sharp and staccato. He growled softly, then unlocked the door and jerked it open, forgetting to check the peephole first.
Inuyasha blinked, then gulped, then stared, then blushed.
“Wha—what are you doing here?” he burst out, his mouth working before his brain.
Kagome Higurashi—the Kagome Higurashi, the girl of his dreams (all dreams, day and night and wet and dry) brushed past him into the living room, her scent laced with nervousness, but the look on her face was determined and clear.
“I came,” she said, “because I woke this morning to an...erm...interesting...message on my voicemail, and I wondered if you could help me figure out just who could have done it.”
Inuyasha gaped at her. Why...what...why was she there?
“You’ve—you’ve got a voicemail?” he choked. “And you want me to help you figure out who left it?”
Kagome winked, and he felt weak. “I do,” she said, “on both counts. So...will you help me?”
Kagome. Kagome Higurashi. Kagome Higurashi was in his fucking apartment at 9:00 in the fucking morning. And fuck, she looked absolutely delectable. Her long dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, off her neck, and Inuyasha loved the fact that he could see the delicate curve of her ivory throat, gleaming even in the soft glow of morning sunlight in his apartment. Her gray eyes were wide, and amused, and questioning; her beautiful plush pink mouth fixed into a soft smile. And as Inuyasha’s sleepy and confused golden eyes made their way down her body, they widened as he took in her state of dress. She wore tight black pants, tucked into cherry-red Doc Martens, and a burgundy tank top, under which Inuyasha could see the peekings of a black lacy bra. Her breasts were perky and round and nearly spilling out of the top of her shirt, and when she crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly, he nearly whined at the sight of her breasts squeezed up and together under her arms.
“I...I...Why are you here?” he asked. He was trying so fucking hard to understand. So far as he knew, Kagome Higurashi barely knew he was alive, let alone where he lived. And he was pretty sure that, should Kagome Higurashi ever need help, Inuyasha was the last person she would ever come to. Because Kagome and Inuyasha didn’t move in the same social circles: Kagome was friendly to everyone, outgoing, always cheerful and ambitious. She was an education major, and he was sure that whatever grade she taught when she graduated? The students were gonna fucking love her.
Just like he did.
He couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened: when he had known that Kagome Higurashi was the girl for him. It could have been the first day of freshman year of college, when he’d stopped moving his own shit to help her and her mother with some especially heavy boxes, and Kagome had flashed him a vibrant smile in return. Or it could have been in their freshman composition class, which they had happened to take together, when they were assigned to be in the same peer workshop, and Kagome had given him such kind and helpful feedback on his essays that all he could tell her in return was that hers were “fucking amazing.” (Because they were.)
Or it could have been the day that she started dating that jagoff Bankotsu, and he’d felt a rage boil up in his core like he’d never felt about anything, or anyone, but he was pretty sure he wanted to use all of his half-demon abilities and kick Bankotsu from here to Greenland. Or maybe further. He didn’t know. Far away from Kagome, that was for sure. Inuyasha was pretty sure he’d gone out and bought himself a couple bottles of champagne to celebrate when they broke up—not because he would ever have the nerve to ask her out (oh, gods and fuck, no), but because he could tell that, when she dated that asshole, her scent was always sad, tentative, weak. Not like before, when her scent was pure, and confident, and strong—like fresh rain and lilies. Like he’d just come through a storm and she was there, waiting for him, with open arms, and a soft smile on her lips, and…
“Inuyasha? You okay?” The Kagome in his living room stared at him, her head cocked to the side as she watched him closely. “You seem a little...out of it...today?”
Inuyasha coughed. “What? Yeah, no, I’m good, I promise.” He paused, and stared at her again; gods, why was she so fucking beautiful and perfect and in his living room right now? He blinked. “Sorry,” he added. “What did you need help with?”
Artwork by nartista
Kagome’s face broke out into a soft, slow smile. She held out her phone. “This,” she said, “I needed some help with this.” She pressed a button on her phone, and as Inuyasha began to listen to the voicemail, his entire body froze, and a sick feeling started to take shape inside of him: starting in the very pit of his stomach, and spreading out to all of his limbs.
“Ka—Ka—Ka-Go-Me,” said a very familiar voice. “Ka—Ka—Ka-Go-Me! I—How am I here? ” The voice paused. “How are you here? No...no wait...you’re...you’re NOT here.” Another pause. "Why are you not here with me, Ka-Go-Me? Why not? You know how much I fucking love you, Ka-Go-Me. How much I love your long, beautiful hair, long and thick and like a horse’s mane but prettier. How much I fucking love your gray eyes...who the fuck has gray eyes, anyway? You fucking do, fucking Kagome Higurashi.” The voice changed, then, becoming sad and soft. “ I wish you were here with me, Ka-Go-Me. I wish I could smell you. I wish you were near me. Because when you are, I’m so fucking happy….why aren’t you here, Kagome?” The voice paused, then sniffled, then continued on. “It’s really late,” it added, “and it’s really fucking dark out, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get the fuck home. But when I do, I kind of wish you were waiting for me. That’s all. I wish you...I wish you were here. Because I love you.” The voice got singsongy again. “In loooove with you, Ka-ago-Me,” it ended. “In fucking looove.”
The voicemail clicked, and Kagome looked up at Inuyasha, amused.
Inuyasha, meanwhile, was not. He was sure he was blushing furiously, that his face was aflame, because he was hot. Like, burning up. Was he sick? Could he feign sickness? He sure as fuck wish that he could.
He clutched the sides of his head and groaned loudly. Ibuprofen...where?
Fuck. In love with Kagome? He was in love with Kagome. And now? She knew it, too.
Fuuuucccckkk.
“Inuyasha.” Kagome’s voice was soft, still amused. “You seem like you know who this person is who left me such a sweet, adorable, very drunk voicemail.”
Inuyasha looked wildly around the room. He saw the couch, walked over to it, and sank down, his hands in his hair, his ears resting against his skull (and holy fuck, even that hurt...just what did he get up to the night before?). He hung his head and closed his eyes.
How could he have been so fucking stupid? Drunk, leaving messages of...really fucking stupid confessions of love...to Kagome? To the girl he’d loved for four years?
He felt a depression on the cushion beside him, and his nose immediately became full of Kagome’s sweet, sweet scent. Fresh rain and lilies. And then, her hand was on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
It was the closest he’d ever been to her. And he couldn’t even look at her. Because his head—his entire body—hurt so fucking much he thought he might die. Or throw up. Maybe both.
“Inuyasha.” She was saying his name again. “Do you know whose voice that is on my voicemail?”
At the word voice, Inuyasha was immediately hit with a flash of memory. His voice, the damn wolf’s voice, singing. Loudly. Was it Creedence? Ohmyfuckinggod it was. “Down on the Corner.” At a bar. The damn monk laughing at them, a shot in his hand.
Inuyasha groaned, and his stomach lurched.
“Hey, hey.” Her hand was on his back, rubbing it gently. “You okay?”
Another flash of memory. The wolf, saying, “Okay, dog, tell us everything you like about Kagome.”
And the monk, adding, “For every one thing you tell us, we’re gonna take a shot. Okay?”
Okay? Okay?
And somehow, that phrase “we’re gonna take a shot” turned into…
Fuck . He didn’t know how many it turned into, but it definitely had turned into:
Karaoke. (A lot of it.)
Hot wings. (A lot of them.)
Whiskey. (Too much.)
Kagome Confessions. (Apparently, also way too many of them.)
He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, as the sick remembrance that, on their way home from the bar, fucking Miroku had suggested he call Kagome and tell her all the things that he’d told them that he liked about her. And that Kōga had nodded, and that Inuyasha had enthusiastically taken out his phone. He couldn’t remember exactly what he said, but he didn’t need to, did he? Because the whole fucking thing was on Kagome’s voicemail.
Yup. It was official.
He was gonna murder the monk and the wolf.
“Hey,” she said, and he realized that his entire body was shaking. “Let me go get you some water, okay? Do you have any ibuprofen or anything?”
“Y—yeah,” he stuttered (fuck, language was hard). “Cabinet by the kitchen sink.”
He felt her press her lips to the side of his head, and get to her feet. “I’m on it,” she said, and in an instant she was gone. He couldn’t see her (he couldn’t fucking lift his head; fuck he was so embarrassed!), but he could scent her in his kitchen. He heard the cabinet doors open and close; he heard the refrigerator door open; he heard her pouring out some water into a glass. The refrigerator door closed, and then, in a moment, she was back at his side, and a glass of water was being gently pushed through his hair, between his nose. He accepted the glass gratefully and began to take small, tentative sips; when his stomach didn’t fight him, he took a few larger gulps, and felt the cool water pour down his throat, caressing his insides gently.
“How many ibuprofen do you want?” she asked quietly, sitting back beside him.
Inuyasha grunted. “Four, please,” he said, and almost instantly, a small hand appeared under his hair, palm up, four ibuprofen in the center. He took them delicately with his claws, taking care not to tickle her too badly, and put them in his mouth. He followed them with a little water, and swallowed the pills. He felt Kagome reach out and take the water glass, and he let her, resting his head back in his hands.
“Better?” she asked, and when he grumbled, he heard a soft chuckle. “Good,” she added. “Why don’t we get you back to bed?”
At that, Inuyasha whipped his head up, and then immediately groaned and held it again. (Holy fuck, how much whisky did the damn wolf and the fucking monk give him?) Kagome put her hand on his back again, and rubbed, and it felt so good to have her hand there that he never wanted to move again.
“I really think it would be good for you,” she said, sympathetic, but also he could tell she was trying not to laugh. Which, yes, he was probably looking pretty pathetic and hilarious, so he didn’t blame her (but also, he really fucking appreciated her not laughing, like a lot). “Why don’t you let me help you up?”
“But—but—but—” He had so much to say to her. Like how desperately, hopelessly, in love with her he was. And how he was a complete and total asshole for telling her over a drunken voicemail, and not in person, which was the way that a goddess like her deserved to be told someone was desperately, hopeless, in love with her.
Kagome chuckled, and tucked one hand under his elbow, keeping the other on his back. Slowly, she pushed him to a standing position. “Which way is the bedroom?” she asked, and he was barely able to nod the direction, but she understood and led the way back down the hall. “You know,” she added as they walked slowly, “I was teasing you before. I know that is was you, and, I have to say, that was quite a message you left me on my phone.” Inuyasha let out a whine as they reached his bedroom. He knew he’d fucked it all up.
When they reached his bed, she helped him sit back down on the mattress. Slowly, she turned him, stretching out his legs and laying him back down. She fluffed the pillows under his head; he turned towards her. She was swathed in light from his bedroom window, looking ethereal and so lovely he wasn’t sure if she was real or if he was imagining her. Probably a little of both.
“Inuyasha?” she asked, and he realized she was holding his hand. “Can...can I ask you something?”
“Ka—Kagome,” he croaked, and she immediately dropped his hand and ran out of the room. He sat up, frantic (had he chased her the fuck away?), but she was back in a moment, with the water glass in her hand. She held it out to him, and he accepted and drank from it gratefully.
“Ka—Kagome,” he tried again, and was pleased that his voice, while a little shaky from the hangover, was definitely more like his own. “You...you can ask me anything.”
She smiled. “May I?” she asked, pointing to the edge of the bed.
She wanted to sit close to him.
Instantly he blushed, but nodded. How could he deny her anything?
Kagome perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes not quite meeting his.
“Did...did you really mean what you said in that voicemail?” she asked quietly. “Are you...did you…” Her voice died as she tried to find the right words.
Inuyasha’s heart fell. Fuck. Had he confessed all to this girl, to the girl, and she didn’t feel the same? She didn’t return his feelings?
Well, there had been a small chance of that, anyway. Kagome was...well, perfect. And he was...well...had he looked at himself in a mirror lately? Half-demon, stupid ears? Not fitting into any world, so he’d always had to make a world of his own to get by?
What could Kagome possibly see in him?
His head was swimming. It was so fucking hard to focus.
But Kagome was here, and he was gonna try.
“Please,” she said suddenly, and her scent was laced with sadness. “Please tell me.” Her hand had somehow found its way back into his. (Oh. She was touching him. Focus, Inuyasha.) “Please. Are you...did you…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Did you mean it? That you love me? That you love my eyes? That you think my hair is...prettier than a horse’s mane?”
Inuyasha visibly flinched at being reminded of his own words. He did not want to answer her. But her eyes were so earnest, her voice so desperate, he couldn’t deny her an answer.
“Y—ye—yeah,” he sputtered slowly. “Yeah, I meant it. All of it.” He set the water down on the nightstand, and took his free hand to hesitantly reach up and gently touch her hair. When she closed her eyes and sighed, the fog cleared just a little, and he thought that maybe he had a tiny chance. “Your hair...I want to bury my face in it and breathe in your scent. And your eyes— fuck, I’ve never seen eyes like them.”
“So just my hair and my eyes?” she asked, her eyes still closed, but now leaning into his touch.
Inuyasha took a deep breath and shivered as she turned her head slightly so he could reach her ponytail. He hesitated, but then worked his fingers through the elastic and tugged gently, pulling her hair loose and letting it fall free around her shoulders. Her beautiful dark mane free, he could not tangle his hand in it fully, and lean forward so his nose rested in her hair, so he could inhale. Fuck, she smelled so good, he groaned, and he thought that maybe she was curing his hangover, just a little.
Why...why was she here? Letting him touch her like this? Her hair was soft, like silky, and it slipped through his fingers so beautifully he thought he might just fall into it and drown.
Yup, drown. No words. Just Inuyasha, his face in Kagome’s hair, completely lost to the world, forever.
And so okay, regroup. Focus. Hair, eyes, lips. Love.
Yes, it was her hair, and her eyes, but if this was gonna be a real love confession (which he was starting to think that yes, maybe it was, and yes, maybe that’s what she was doing there, after all, especially if she was letting him fucking touch her hair what), he needed to tell her everything.
Deep fucking breaths. Even if they made him tremble and his stomach lurch.
Because hangovers were a bitch, but Kagome Higurashi was here, and they were touching, and if he didn’t take this chance, he would regret it, forever. He knew that he would.
“You’re more than hair and eyes to me, Kagome,” he whispered (into her hair, but oh well). “You’re smart, and kind, and generous. You’re loyal to your friends, and you love your family. You’re ambitious—you’re gonna be the best fucking teacher in the state; I just know it. And...and I…” He resisted the urge to crush her to his chest and smother her with kisses. “I just admire you, Kagome. So much.”
Lame, Inuyasha, sang that stupid inner voice that sounded way too much like Kōga for his liking.
“That’s—that’s it?” she asked softly, and he realized that she’d laced her fingers into his and was now lifting their hands up his chest, up over his heart. “You admire me?” She paused. “Because you know,” she said, her voice small, “I do way more than just admire you.”
Inuyasha’s brain froze. Like, really, truly froze.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t see. Kagome...Kagome Higurashi...she...she was…?
And then, her lips were on his, and they were warm, and soft, and tentative, searching out his response. Her hand squeezed his, and he felt her free hand slip around his back and pull him closer to her. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to respond. Four years, a drunk voicemail, and here she was, kissing him, confessing she had feelings for him, and all he could do was…
All he could do was kiss her back.
Inuyasha tucked his hand behind her neck; he tilted her head up slightly, deepening the kiss, drawing her to his chest and holding her just as tightly as she was holding him. Her body molded against him so fucking perfectly that he could scarcely control himself; those beautiful, perfect breasts pressed into his chest, the fabric between them the only thing keeping him from feeling all of her, from feeling all of them . Together.
Tears. He may have had tears. Because he’d waited so long and she felt so fucking good and it was the best kiss of his life. Except for the tongue. He couldn’t give her tongue. Not yet. Not until he’d properly cleaned himself up.
And when he did...he was going to kiss the shit out of Kagome Higurashi.
Because now he knew that she wanted to kiss him, too.
Kagome broke the kiss first, withdrawing slightly, trailing her hand up his back, over his shoulder, and coming to rest on his cheek. He whined softly, but turned and nuzzled her hand sweetly. She giggled. “I think,” she said, “that you really do need the rest, Inuyasha. I—I don’t know what you got up to last night, but it has left you a sight.” When his ears drooped, she giggled again and pushed him back onto the mattress.
“But—but Kagome—” He couldn’t get the words out, but now that he knew how she felt about him? Now that he had kissed her? He did not want her to go anywhere.
Kagome slipped down onto the mattress beside him, and pulled up the covers. She drew his head to her chest, and nestled his against the soft pillows of her breasts. He—she—
This was the best pillow he’d ever laid on.
A soft kiss to his temple, and Inuyasha felt his eyes grow drowsy. He knew he was still ridiculously hung over, but somehow, with Kagome’s presence, he felt complete, whole, better.
“Go to sleep, Inuyasha,” she whispered, holding him close. “I’ll be here when you wake up...today, tomorrow, and, if you’ll have me, forever.”
Oh, yes, thought Inuyasha as he drifted off to sleep, completely enveloped in Kagome’s warmth and her scent, I’ll have you, Kagome. Forever.
Kōga and Miroku had been anxiously waiting for a text from Inuyasha all day. They had been sick—so fucking sick—of Inuyasha’s pining over one Kagome Higurashi. Nearly every word that came out of his mouth was either her name, or something related to her name, and it was driving them fucking insane.
How could one person be so hung up on another person? How could one person drive his friends so absolutely crazy by talking about nothing but the other said person, nonstop?
Kōga and Miroku wanted their friend back. They wanted their conversations back, to have them not be hijacked by discussions of whether or not Kagome had worn the same jeans two days in a row, or if she had trimmed her hair an inch.
They just wanted to talk about normal things, and do normal things. Together.
So, Kōga and Miroku had come up with an idea. Get Inuyasha drunk. Very drunk. It would take a lot of alcohol, but Kōga knew Jinenji, the half-demon bartender at the Shikon, their local dive bar, and he could slip Jinenji some extra bills to make sure that he gave Inuyasha the best whisky, the strongest proof, a little extra on the top of his shots.
Because it took a lot of alcohol to get a half-demon drunk, and they needed Inuyasha drunk.
In the end, it hadn’t taken much. Kōga’s idea to get Inuyasha to talk about his favorite subject (Kagome) and Miroku’s idea to get Inuyasha to take a drink for every thing he said he liked about her (which, did they have years? Because that’s how long they would have been there, in the bar) worked better than they could have imagined. And with a little help from Jinenji, soon Inuyasha was describing every strand of Kagome’s hair, detailing her freshman composition papers down to the sentence, and later, singing karaoke with Kōga and eating hot wings with Miroku. Two things they had made sure to get pictures of, because Inuyasha would never believe that he’d done either.
And then at the end of the night, Miroku made the casual suggestion that Inuyasha call Kagome and tell her all the things that he’d told them that he liked about her. And yup, the voicemail was long, and rambling, and Miroku and Kōga may have had a good long laugh about it after they dropped Inuyasha at his apartment. Because the dog had it bad, and it was about time he admitted his feelings to Kagome.
Just...Kōga and Miroku hadn’t quite expected him to pour out his feelings like that.
They were sitting in a coffee shop, nursing their own hangovers, when Kōga’s phone pinged. He picked it up, swiped to look at the message, and started to laugh, very, very hard.
“What’s up?” Miroku asked, and Kōga handed him the phone so he could see. Miroku took one look at the message, and also started to laugh.
It was a picture of Inuyasha, and Kagome, snuggled up together in bed, both with big stupid grins on their faces. And underneath the picture was the following message:
Thanks to the two best fucking wingmen a dumb-ass half-demon in love could ask for.