Song: Your Call by Secondhand Seranade

Stripped and polished, I am new, I am fresh
I am feeling so ambitious, you and me, flesh to flesh
Cause every breath that you will take
When you are sitting next to me
Will bring life into my deepest hopes, What's your fantasy?

And I'm tired of being all alone, and this solitary moment makes me want to come back home
(I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have)

Cause I was born to tell you I love you
And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine
Stay with me tonight

Miroku was sure he'd heard right, but wanted what Sango had just said to be a lie. Then a moment later he didn't, and his eyes slid from her face to her loose-fitting blouse. She made no move, and spoke no words, awaiting a response.

"A baby?" He wondered aloud, his head involuntarily tipping to one side. She nodded gently. This was all too real, but it also seemed too different to be reality. "You're having a baby?"

"Yes," she breathed, "your baby." She looked around for a moment before meeting his eyes once again. She looked as if she was judging every word very carefully. "I should have told you sooner, but I was unsure of how you would react. Normally I couldn't care less, but this time it just seemed different."

It was Miroku's turn to nod this time. He began to pace, back and forth, down the hallway beside her. When he had heard her voice, this was not how he had expected things. He had hoped that she was coming to ask him back, or had thought that, maybe, she might be angry with him for showing up at the concert. This had been so far from his mind, but now that it was in, it was stuck.

A baby. A chubby-cheeked little poop-maker, with it's mothers lungs of steel. Super-baby. With the ability to wake everyone in the house in two seconds flat, with long and loud bawling. A child with his eyes, and her pretty mouth; his hair, and the smile she had that spread across her face, and made others want to smile along.

This was unexpected. Weren't they usually, though? How often did you really hear of a planned child? He definitely wasn't, as his father had made all-too clear when he had been growing up. Planning this type of thing seemed to make sense, but wasn't usually the case, so why not?

He would be a terrible father, that was why. Drinking, partying, and staying up all night were on the top of the list of his technical skills, while common things such as patience, and reliability were further down. Still, Sango would make an excellent mother. She was understanding, accepting, and warm in a way that no-one he had ever met was. If he tried hard enough, he could probably learn a thing or two from her. Hadn't he already?

"I don't expect you to take responsibility, or anything," Sango spoke, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Really, it was hard enough to come down here. I just thought when I saw you today that you may want to know. I would have felt terrible if I hadn't at least talked to you about it once." Miroku stopped pacing and turned to her. She was sincere, and honest, smiling in that way she did when she was letting someone off the hook. The expression made his stomach sink, while the words made the remains of his anger fade.

"I want to take responsibility." The words were out before he had thought them through, and though the scared him, after pondering them a moment, he felt no regret. Sango looked utterly shocked, and it made his chest ache. Had he really made himself out to be such a dick? Yes, he had to admit that he had. For months he had been acting like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, when the reality was, he had broken it.

"I don't-" Sango started to shake her head, but Miroku shortened the distance between them in two strides, finally giving in and pulling her close. She made a slightly strangled noise, in the back of her throat, and tensed up. Miroku waited for a minute before pulling back to look at her face.

"Oh shit, Sango," he stared, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Sango wiped the tears that had sprung from her eyes, "it's the goddamn hormones. I'm not myself sometimes."

Miroku shook his head, willing the remaining fuzz of hangover to leave, and slid one hand to cup her chin. Her wet eyes met his , wavering as he had never seen before.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly, leaning in an inch closer, not taking his eyes from hers. She bit her lip.

"I don't know if that is a good idea," her voice was almost a whisper. "We wouldn't want to do anything rash."

"When I'm with you, I can't help it," he sighed, letting her go, and running his hands through his own hair. "You make me crazy." He sat down, and took a long breath. "But, when I'm with you, you make me a better man. You give me ambitions, and hope. It's not something I am accustomed to, and I took it for granted." He paused again, staring at her intensely. "You know the saying- ' you don't know what you have until it's gone?' This is the best example of my life. My default response was anger, and I apologize for that. I don't expect you to forget what I did, because I won't, but I would very much appreciate if you would find it in your heart to try and forgive me."

The room went very silent for what felt like a very long time. Sango and Miroku stared at each other, both unwilling to look away. Eventually, there was the moment, when Miroku saw her eyes soften, and he sighed in relief. He felt lighter than he had in a long time. What he was not expecting was for Sango to walk over, lean in, and cup his chin in her hands. He stared questioningly up into her smiling face.

"I've never heard you sound like that before," she admitted. She leaned in slowly, and kissed him gently and quickly. Miroku reached and pulled her down onto his lap, enveloping her in his embrace.

"Is that a yes, then?" he whispered into her ear, feeling her shiver. "It seems like a yes." Sango nodded and Miroku smiled for the first time in a while. He moved her hair so that he had access to her soft neck, and leaned in to plant a kiss on the spot he knew would cause another reaction. She tensed, then immediately relaxed into his arms. Leaning into her ear once more, he whispered, "I missed you."