Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue. Comprende, mis amigos?

Woah! 20 review heaven! Yaaaaaaa baby!!! Wahoooooo! -hugs you all- You are the coolest! I am now my reviewer's slave!! Yes, masters? -bows-

On to DLT, Chapter 4, take 20,345!

And so everyone knows- this story is my usual mix of romance, angst, and comedy; but I'm really working on putting in about 300x the amount of action/adventure/comedy that I usually do. I'm trying to mix up my stories a bit. I'm also putting as much sexual tension into this story as I possibly can. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that it might ruin it. But it's so much fun!

Not so much angst in here. It's too depressing.

(It took so long to get this up because I LITERALLY went back and re-wrote every sentence. Even if it didn't change at all, I went back and re-wrote it. It's the only way I can post this story any more.)

Chapter 4

"What do you have there?" Sango asked, patting her still-damp head. Her hair was drawn up in a simple ponytail, and the wet ends were swinging loosely against her mid-back. Miroku looked up from a bowl of colorful cereal and swallowed.

"Captain Crunch. My gardener is also paid to keep up my food supply here. Fresh milk, fruit, and juice in the fridge, cereals and breads in the pantry. Help yourself to whatever you want. He went back to his bowl, munching happily. Sango rolled her eyes. She shuffled through the metal cabinets, briefly admiring the handiwork, then finding herself a bowl. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and poured herself a bowl of Choco Pebbles. Splashing some 2 percent milk into it and snagging a mouthful before sitting down on a nearby stool, Sango let her eyes drift about the room in slight wonder.

The room was sparsely decorated, to be sure, but that wasn't calling it simple. It had a futuristic look to it, being made completely of metallic material and glass. Strange but beautiful lamps were everywhere, making sure the space was well-lit. Sango chewed thoughtfully, spinning slowly on her stool, before swallowing and turning to Miroku. "So, Mr. Celebrity. Is the rest of your house this expensive?"

"My dear Mistress Thief.... this was my cheapest room to decorate. Do you like it? I designed it myself." Sango shrugged and turned back to the chocolaty goodness before her. She wouldn't even dream of telling the cocky bastard that she adored this room. It was so- sophisticated- and so her.

"Ok, don't answer that then. Tell me- why did you take Choco Pebbles. I find them disgusting. Honestly, how can you eat those things?" Sango took an extra big bite to spite him.

"I'll have you know that I have not eaten these since I was a small child, and if you insult my choice of breakfast material once more I will kick your ass and then blow it off."

"Sound like it would hurt."

"And then some." Sango said smugly, silently slurping down the rest of the now-chocolate milk. She tossed her bowl like a UFO across the room and smirked when it sailed neatly into the sink. She chucked the spoon after it, hearing the satisfactory clang as it followed it's predecessor. Miroku eyed her. Sango, feeling his gaze, gave him a look that clearly said 'What are you staring it, you slack-jawed idiot?'

"You can eat more if you want. That was a pretty small bowl," stated Miroku. To demonstrate, he took a humongous bite of his cereal. Sango shook her head.

"No. I need to watch my weight." She stood and strode over to the sink to stick her dishes in the dishwasher. Miroku stared at her slender waist as it moved across the room. Studying it carefully, he came to a conclusion.

God DAMN she's thin. What does she mean, watch her weight? With her lifestyle, it can't be EASY to gain weight. I mean, good Kami. Look at her. JEE-zuz is she fine. Mmm, what else does she have going for her? Nice chest, proportionate to her height and age... I think. How old is she anyways? Carrying on. Her legs are pretty thick, but they're all muscle, so oh well. Definite advantages to that.

"Stop ogling at my legs. Now. That is not a request." Sango said, neatly whipping around. A bar of lemon-scented soap (A/N: FLUFFY lemonn soap!!) followed, whacking Miroku in the eye. Miroku got up and danced in pain, bumping the table and spilling the bowl of milk on it.

"Ow! Shit! Damn you and your fucking PERFECT aim! Just HAD to be lemon, too! Ow! Ow! O- WHOA!" Miroku slipped on the milk, which had spread a good deal. After all, his bowl had been about the size of a salad bowl. (Which it technically was.) There had been a lot of milk in it. Miroku went sailing down the wet stuff, screaming the whole way and still clutching his eye. He managed to get pretty far, considering he had a 'running' start. Sango shrieked and tried to move, but it was too late. Miroku slammed into her legs and Sango THUNKED right on top of him. By now, both were horrified, both were pissed, and both were covered with the goddamn milk. Miroku moaned and opened his eyes, one fine and one slightly red. They opened wider.

Sango had fainted. Her face was painted red, like she had a fever or was blushing or something, and Miroku gulped. Uh oh. Did he knock her out!? Sango was going to be SO PISSED when she woke up! He sat up, carefully cradling the unresponsive thief in his arms.

"Wow," he murmured. Her angelically suffering face was slack and peaceful. "She fits." Indeed, she did. Like a lock and key, their bodies had molded together perfectly. Her small but thickly muscled frame seemed bound by gravity to his taller, leaner body. He smiled, but just for a moment. Sango had woken up and smacked him across the room by the time Miroku could make heads or tails of what had happened.

"What were you doing!?" She screeched, making Miroku put his hands to his ears. "You disgusting pervert! What were you planning to d-ohhh..." With that, Sango dropped to the floor. Miroku jumped forward, catching her before she fell. He tenderly cradled the obviously sick woman in his arms and stood up, trying not to injure her limp form in any way, shape, or form. He held her bridal style as he carried her up the stairs and down the hall into her bedroom. He kicked open the door as quietly as he could and lay her down. Miroku glanced worriedly at her feverish face. What was the matter with her?

Contemplating his next move, he decided to stay with her. He lay tentatively next to her, propping his body up with an elbow and forearm. His free arm reached out and he gently moved a few of her dark chocolate tresses from her warm, red face. A slight sheen of sweat was covering her forehead, and Miroku was debating calling a doctor when her eyes fluttered weakly open. Sango immediately tried to sit up, but Miroku would have none of it. He put a strong arm around her waist and forced her back down, looking into her eyes.

"Just relax. I think you're really sick. Were you sick before? Have you not been eating enough? Maybe you ate something you've never had before? Are you diabetic? Maybe you caught something from-" He shot questions at her rapidly, searching her face. Sango winced.

"Dammit! Damn-IT damn-IT damn-IT!" She said hoarsely. Miroku looked at her.

"What?"

"I haven't taken any milk for... a long, long time. I completely forgot- I'm a bit lactose intolerant." She mumbled, her face going a darker shade of red and looking off to the side. "I-I haven't drunk milk since I was small, and it wasn't so bad back then. I guess I, I dunno, got worse. It'll go away soon. I feel better already. ...How do I look?" Miroku almost laughed- she was worrying about how she looked?

"Pretty good. Beautiful, really."

"Spare me the theatrics, Mr. Celebrity." Sango said, rolling her eyes.

"Ok. Pretty good. Beautiful, really." Miroku said, looking into her dark brown eyes. "...Mistress Thief?"

"What do you want now?"

"Did you know you have the most amazing eyes in the entire world?"

"Shut the hell up. I'm not in the mood." Sango sat up, pushing him off. She attempted to get off of the bed, but Miroku pinned her down. She looked up at him, and despite her efforts, her eyes betrayed fear and anger. Sango did not like their current position.

"Mistress Thief?"

"What!? Let me up now!" A couple of seconds of struggling did her no good, and, in a rage, Sango bucked her hips to throw him off. Her hips slammed against his, and Miroku froze. So did Sango. Her pupils contracted in a feral way, and she swore quietly. "Oh my goddess. I'm sorry," she murmured, trying to fight her blush. Miroku stared at her.

"No... it's fine... I mean!... Well..." He struggled madly for words. "Erm... what's your name?" Sango looked at him strangely.

"I'm having a lactose reaction, you're on top of me on your hands and knees, I just rammed my hips into you, and you are asking me my name!? What the hell is the matter with you!?" She took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Miroku continued to look at her.

"Well?" He said softly, rolling off of her. He smiled passively. Sango looked at him, confused.

"Well what?"

"What's your name?" Miroku asked again, tilting his head. "I'll tell you mine."

"Y-you first," Sango said shakily. She didn't know why, but she felt uneasy telling this guy her name. Miroku cocked his lips into a gorgeous lopsided grin.

"Miroku. But you already sort of knew that. And you, Mistress Thief?" Sango sat up and started to walk out of the room.

"None of your business."

"None of my business? Good gods, girl! I'm your fricking partner!" He raced after her, grabbing her arm in the hall. Sango threw him off. She spat at his feet and kept walking. Miroku pursued her further. He swiftly strode up beside her, matching her step for step as she blindly walked around a house she was unfamiliar with. "What's the matter?" Miroku pressed. "Why won't you tell me your name? Are you afraid I'll turn you in?" No answer. Sango kept walking. "Are you afraid that I might want to know something about you?" Still running from him. "Are you afraid that I won't like it?" No response. Something clicked inside Miroku's head then.

"Wait- are you afraid that I WILL like it? That it will be one more thing about you that I think is perfect?" Sango stopped. She was visibly trembling. Miroku smiled. "Ah. So you're terrified of affection, eh? You're scared someone might actually want to be around you just for the sake of being around you?"

SMACKKK

"Shut up! I am not!" Sango hissed, her face a bright red. Her anger came quickly, but it didn't come fast enough. Miroku saw a few lingering tears in her eyes before they evaporated into a hateful steam. He smiled, despite the bruise forming over the other bruise on his cheek. He spoke gently, like one would to a frightened horse.

"Please, I just wish to know the name of my accomplice. Come now, Mistress Thief. I'm sorry about what I said. I may have been wrong."

"Damn straight you were wrong!" Sango huffed out. At Miroku's waiting look, she sighed and caved in. "Fine. My name... it's Sango."

"Sango?" Miroku said. "Sango. Mm. You have a beautiful name... Sango," he whispered to himself. The way he said it, the way he blended the 'n' and the 'go' together made shivers run down Sango's spine. "Lady Sango."

"What?" She snapped irritably. "Yes, that's my name. Good job!"

"You still appear sick, Lady Sango. Allow me to take you to your room."

"Piss off, Houshi. I can walk." With that, she strode away. Miroku winced: she said 'Houshi' with a certain detachment, an air of indifference. It hurt. And it felt like rejection.

-.-

There you go. A note to this chapter: I know it's random, and probably the most cliche and terrible thing I've ever posted, but just re-read it and imagine it. You know you like the images.

Apologies for the lactose reaction thing- that's the worst I've ever seen happen to my friends. You know, brief fevers, fainting spells, that sort of thing. Apologies if I got something wrong. -nod-

Happiness! I have completely broken through my hiatus! And now it's back up!

Reviews? Please?

-FL