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[Title] Before Morning
[Rating] PG-13 for kissy, kissy faces
[Universe] Canon/Divergence
[Genre] Romance/Humor/Introspective
[Summary] Tequila made her mouth numb. Funnily enough, she had the same effect on him.
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“Sessh-oh… Sessh-oh… Sessh-moe… Sessh-moe-emmy-lou…” his name tumbled brokenly out of her mouth, and she giggled at her own little private joke.
He frowned, his clawed hand catching her wrist when she stumbled against him. “You are drunk.”
Kagome sniffled absently and attempted to straighten. Really, she hadn’t had that much to drink. Only one or two… or something. She’d lost count after Yuka bought that last round. At least, she thought it had been the last round. It was all beginning to fuzz over, and she felt a little like a peach. “Peachy,” she mumbled, laughing again at the absurdity of it all.
Sesshoumaru’s nose twitched. “You are very drunk.”
“Noooooo,” she denied as her index finder rose to poke him in the chest. Or, at least, she tried to aim at him, but, somehow, the wall of the bakery they were standing in front of changed places with him.
Kagome’s eyes widened happily at the sight of a fluffy croissant. “Oh, pasties! Want that, Emmy Lou!”
“Must you stumble the streets alone in your stupor? Surely you cannot find your way home in this capacity,” the demon lord questioned, on the off chance that there was a small part of her brain still at work.
“Home?” she reiterated. Pausing, Kagome pressed her face against the window and frowned. “Crusty… crusty… crois-ty… Emmy Lou…”
Well, that was helpful. None too delicately, Sesshoumaru tugged on her still captured hand. “Home, woman. You must go there.”
Suddenly, the intoxicated miko jerked away from the window and threw herself into his arms. “Emmy Lou,” she crowed, nuzzling into his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. Even as a drunkard, she managed quite a strong grip. “Emmy Lou, Emmy Lou.”
“Sesshoumaru,” he nearly growled, forcing himself not to merely deposit her in the nearest trashcan in light of their recently agreed upon friendship.
He had been more than a little surprised when her application for residency at his hospital had fallen into his lap nearly a year ago. The ink was barely dry on her diploma, and she had a uncommonly powerful passion for medicine that intrigued him.
She fainted at the interview.
He didn’t blame her for it. If he’d been the kind of demon to be swayed by lesser notions, he might have succumbed to the urge as well.
So as they stood on the sidewalk - well, technically he stood and she clung, but that was beside the point - in the middle of the night, his damned sense of honor would not allow him to just leave her there without a single brain cell in her head actually working.
Kagome gave a light snore, and he felt his irritation rise.
Even in sleep, she managed not to let go, leaving Sesshoumaru in a very uncomfortable position.
Now the question remained, what did one do with a drunk, dozing miko?
“Don‘t be sad, Emmy Lou!” Kagome suddenly squealed, bounding away from him but still managing to keep her hold.
Sad? Sesshoumaru’s mind rushed over the absurdity of practically everything she said, drunk or otherwise, while she awkwardly attempted to pat his head.
“Happy, happy, Emmy Lou…”
The youkai growled, arms finally raising to pry her off if necessary.
“Ooooh,” eyes widening to the size of saucers, her delicate fingers slid down his face and over his lips. “Emmy Lou, don’t be upset. Happy, happy, Emmy Lou… Pretty face. Pretty mouth.”
“Kagome,” Sesshoumaru interrupted, determined not to let the situation escalate any further. “You will let go.”
Gasping, she clapped her both palms against his cheeks and leaned forward to plant a firm kiss on his mouth. “Emmy Lou… my name.”
The demon lord attempted to remain frozen beneath her assault, but, against his better judgment, he felt his arms raising to rest at her waist.
“Emmy Lou pretty, pretty doggie,” she continued to babble incoherently, the strong scent of tequila on her breath, and now his own.
For the briefest of moments, Sesshoumaru felt his lips tingle with the realization of her touch.
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