The Raven Colored Fox by singingrain

The Raven Colored Fox

I arrive at my showing in record time.

Well, record time for me, at least. Hey, I'm only an hour late! That usually only happens with divine intervention.

I laugh as I run up the stairs, the chill air rushing past me. I burst through the doors, announcing my arrival, and strike a pose.

My boss is not amused.

Yep that's him, the cold, heartless bastard looking royally pissed off in the middle of the room. Oh, how I love to, as he puts it, "agitate" him. He's big into fancy words no one uses any more.

I skip over to him humming slightly, and squeeze him in an enthusiastic hug. The scowl on his face softens and I happily skip off again. He never could stay mad at me long, and we'd been friends since kindergarten. It all started when he was being a poohead and wouldn't give me his silver colored crayon. I practically stalked him for the next week, and he finally started lending me his colors. Our friendship has basically been the same over the years, me pestering him until he finally gives in.

Sigh. Those were the good ol' days.

Oh, right, back to my showing. You see, I'm an artist, and Sesshoumaru is my manager. It's always him who sets up these things. I'm of the opinion that if they want my work, they'll find me, but I think he believes the opposite.

I go over to his brother, Inuyasha, and from my position of behind him whisper excitedly in his ear. He's an artist too, but he does abstract art, while I do more realistic pieces. He always tells me that my paintings look more real than photographs, but that's only when he's asking for money, so I don't really believe him.

He mumbles lazily back at me without turning around.

"The curtains will be pulled back in about five minutes," he says, then turns around to greet me, only he stops and gapes.

"Oh lordy, what are you wearing?" he asks in dismay as he shakes his head at me.

I laugh and I look around at the people gathered here, all to see my work. Why is this funny, you ask? Shouldn't I be grateful that they all came to see my paintings? Well, I am, it's just that while everyone here is in formal dress, wearing cocktail dresses and suits, I'm in a pair of ripped jeans and an old The Clash concert T-shirt.

"What, am I over-dressed?" I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes at him.

He groans, then simply steers me toward the stage.

"You've got to say something before your work's revealed, Kags."

"Ok, ok," I grumble, and march up the steps. I stand in front of the crowd, and clear my throat into the microphone to get everyone's attention.

"Ahem, ahem," I begin, "Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming tonight; you don't know how much it means to me." I pause for a moment, then say, "Or to my slave-driving boss."

This earns me a few chuckles, and a few fellow artists, (yep, I can see Inuyasha do it too) raise their glasses in a salute.

Sesshoumaru simply scowls.

I laugh mischievously, and little Sesshy looks at me with something akin to panic in his eyes.

"Secondly, I want to thank my manager, Sesshoumaru Tashio, for helping me so much with this particular showing. You'll know why in a second," I say, and wink at him. He looks at me in full-blown terror.

"Pull the curtains, boys!" I yell, before he can stop me.

"You are evil. Pure, unadulterated evil," Sesshoumaru states while we look at painting after painting of him. See? Didn't I tell you: big words. I mean come on, who uses "unadulterated"? I'm not even sure what it means!

He gazes up at the different painting in front of him, on a canvas as long and as tall as he was. It features a pure white puppy, with blazing golden eyes, nose-to-nose with a small, raven colored fox, with sparkling deep blue eyes. They're touching noses curiously and a little playfully.

It was spring, and it was one of my favorite ones.

All the others have Sesshoumaru in the harsh winter, with a smirk, scowl, or frown on his face. This painting is the only one like it in the room, and it warms my heart.

I grab a champagne glass off a sweeping waiter's plate, and down the thing. I was ready to par-tay.

Sesshoumaru sighs.

"You know you have low alcohol tolerance, right?"

"Yep!" I hiccup happily, and chase down another waiter with the drinks.

I swirl my drink around. This was getting to be no fun. All the people here were stiffs.

I stagger a little and almost fall, only to be caught by something in a pressed suit and smelling vaguely of freshly-fallen snow.

I look up at my rescuer; it was Sesshoumaru. He says we should go outside on the porch to get some fresh air. I agree, and he leads me over to the door with a worried expression on his face.

"Are you alright? You really can't stand much alcohol," he asks. I push away from him, stagger again, and get caught by him again. I wave drunkenly in his face.

"'m finee, Sesshy, jus' a weeeee bit tipsy."

I hiccup again, and he sighs, half-carrying my inebriated body over to a bench.

I'm still clutching my half empty glass of champagne.

I stretch out on the bench, suddenly sleepy, and put my head in Sesshy's lap. I'd apologize later.

But surprisingly, he doesn't push me away, and I shut my eyes peacefully. I feel a gentle hand brush my hair behind my ear, and soon, soft lips found their way onto mine.

What?!?!

My eyes shoot open to find my best friend leaning over me, pulling back from the kiss. He sees I'm awake, and his eyes go wide and he freezes.

My brain seems to shut off at that moment, and I quickly drink the remaining liquid in my glass.

"'m gonna neeed tis," I slur, before I join the wonderful land of unconsciousness.

I open my eyes to a horribly bright light. Damn that window. And damn my pounding head. Whatever had possessed me to drink last night...

I remember up until tackling a waiter that told me I'd already had enough to drink, and then nothing. Nada. My mind is a complete blank.

I shuffle into my kitchen, fully intent on making the miracle hangover cure that is also know as raw eggs in a blender, and stumble over something.

It's my canvas stand, right in the middle of the hall, and it has a picture on it that I have certainly never seen before.

I stand there, stunned for a moment, before being interrupted by a particularly loud ringing in my ears.

I need to get my hangover cure quick.

I find a note tacked to the refrigerator. It reads:

You got drunk.

No shit.

Me and Sess brought you home.

Ok, well, that explains a little.

The people liked your stuff.

-Yash

That's good. At least I didn't suffer for nothing.

Not a word, conscience. Of course I wouldn't have done better sober. That's just simply out of the question.

I make and drink my eggs concoction.

Ooohh, I feel so much better. Now, back to the painting. It is quite... disturbing to say the least. It has my distinct style, so I had to of been to one to paint it. (Never mind my signature at the bottom.) But I paint drunk? That's interesting...

I decide to dial up Inuyasha and tell him to come over immediately. He's there in no less than 10 minutes, and I show him the picture.

"Well, that's definitely you," he says, pointing to the woman lying down. "No one else was even remotely dressed like that."

He chuckles; I hit him on the arm.

"I know that, just who is the other person?" I clutch my head, frustrated. "It's got to be either you or Sesshoumaru; who else has long white hair?"

He frowns at the man I was lip-locking in the picture. "Well it definitely wasn't me," he tells me, "I was completely sober the whole night, and I don't remember anything like that happening. It must be Sess."

Oh god.

I fall to the floor. Do people normally jump their best friend while drunk off their asses?

Oh, I am so dead. He is sooo gonna kill me.

"Sesshoumaru...?" I ask meekly, opening the door to his office.

He blushes; yes blushes. Yeegads, did I try to take off his pants too? This is most certainly NOT normal Sess behavior.

"Yes?" he says.

When I don't reply, he looks at me questioningly. "Do you...remember...anything that...happened last night?" He asks hesitantly, his eyes filled with dread.

It just rushes guiltily out of me then, and I confess to everything. He stares in shock.

And then he laughs.

"You," he chokes, "think," more choking, "that you," here he points at me, "MOLESTED," he erupts in a fit of giggles, "me?"

I fail to see the humor in this situation, and rightly tell him so.

His expression grows somber, even through his eyes are sparkling, and he stalks over to me. I back up, only to hit the door in my attempted escape, and close my eyes, fearing the worst.

Instead, I get a mind-blowing, knees-to-goo, heart-melting, and one-of-kind kiss.