This is for Akay's Bi-weekly To Deviate Challenge, Challenge #1 – Escort
I've been trying to get myself writing again. So the first place I headed to was the challenges. A few of the old ones re-caught my eye and a few new ones did as well. Hopefully this is not the end of me updating and I'll be more successful in this writing burst before I run out of steam again.
I hope it turned out alright. It isn't much, but at least it's something!
All credit goes to Takahashi Rumiko for Sesshoumaru and Kagome's characters, although I'm sure it wasn't her intention for them to be used this way. Haha.
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Everything was WRONG. Why was it all so wrong? She had done such careful planning, dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s. Why wasn’t anything going as planned? Kagome rubbed her temples, trying to push away the migraine that was soon to come and think of a solution at the same time.
She was going to kill him. Yeah, that was what she was going to do. She would slow roast him over that fire he seemed to love so much and serve him to the guests in place of the food that was supposed to have been done half an hour ago. Kagome hated chefs. They thought they were so good just because they could cook luxurious gourmet food without a sweat. And they were so temperamental when it came to their food.
He had all the right credentials, why was he causing so many problems? How was she supposed to know the difference between Grade A and Grade C eggs? Or what type of charcoal he needed to make the best type of flavored barbecue? She hadn’t gone to culinary school! She just dictated the ordering to the person who was in charge of organizing the food. And apparently that person failed at his job immensely. Next time, she would just do it herself to save the trouble. That is, assuming there was a next time and this wedding party wasn’t a complete failure.
Kagome took a breath as she tried to reason with the chef.
“Taishou-san, I am terribly sorry that we didn’t procure the correct ingredients for you, but there is no time. Could you overlook it just this once and cook as you normally do?”
The tall silver-haired male eyed the female with distaste.
“You don’t know anything about food,” he started out. “Food is an art. By changing the ingredients, you change the whole balance of flavors and textures. There is no way I can work with these ingredients the same way as I would work with the correct ones.”
Kagome’s smile faltered a bit as she tried to keep her cool. What was the big freaking deal? It wasn’t like it was the wrong ingredients; it just wasn’t the right quality or brand or size or whatever the hell else.
“Taishou-san, let me put it this way. What’s worse: not putting out any food at all or putting out food that’s slightly less than perfect? I can assure you, sir, that only ones with acquired tastes such as yourself would be able to tell the difference between restaurant quality and today’s menu.”
She thought she was being perfectly reasonable. Apparently he disagreed.
“I refuse. I will not cook a thing until the new ingredients arrive.” He crossed his arms, glaring down at her as if to intimidate her. Kagome inwardly snorted; as if such a thing would affect her.
This was not the first time something like this happened. This was not the first major crisis she had. But this was the one she had to deal with now and she didn’t have the time for it. The roses had already come in wrong, colored white instead of the couple’s preferred pink. Kagome had had to get the staff to spray paint the bouquets to make them the right color and hoped no one would notice the difference. The original band that was supposed to play got into a car accident and hadn’t been able to make it last minute, so Kagome called her brother Souta over with his ragtag band to fill in. She didn’t even know how those disasters would work out and this man decided to add to her troubles over stupid little ingredients? Oh hell no was she going to put up with that any longer.
“You know what, get out.” Kagome said, her voice soft and controlled but seething with anger.
“Excuse me?” Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes at her.
“I believe you heard me. Get your ass out of the kitchen.” Kagome eyed him angrily. “If you won’t get anything done, I’ll make sure there’s goddamn food on the table when the guests get here.”
He snorted in amusement. Then he walked closer to her and towered himself over her much smaller figure, his face very close to hers. And then he smirked.
“Do you think you can do it, little one?” he taunted.
Unwilling to back down from the challenge, Kagome shoved her face even closer to his.
“Bring it on, mister.”
He almost looked amused and then straightened, his expression changed back the cold emotionless mask that had been in place before when he’d made his demands.
“Out of the kitchen.” he commanded.
“Excuse me?” Kagome heard herself say, wondering at how their roles had switched.
“I believe you heard me,” he mocked. Before she could get in another retort he continued, “I will not have my reputation as a chef disgraced if you tried to serve mediocre food under my name. Now get out if you want that food ready on time.” And then he turned his attention to the food without another word, ignoring her presence as if she had never been there.
So that was how it was going to be? She huffed but left the kitchen. If he was just going to cook the food, what had she gone through all that trouble for? Bastard. That was the last time she would ever hire anyone based on their paperwork alone. Was culinary school all that great? He wasn’t a freaking god.
Luckily for Kagome’s sanity, things seemed to run a bit smoother after that. It wasn’t perfect, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle and it seemed that the worst had passed. She stood on the side in the kitchen, watching as the last of the food trays went out to the ballroom. Kagome sighed in relief.
“It’s not over yet, you know,” a wry voice invaded her few seconds of peace and silence.
She turned around to see the last person she wanted to see at that time. He really was quite lucky that she didn’t carry long sharp pointy objects around with her or she would have made good on her earlier plan or slow roasting the man.
“I don’t need you of all people to tell me that,” she replied. Kagome didn’t even care to re-add the honorifics she had dropped earlier in her rage.
Then Sesshoumaru walked purposefully in her direction, and now that she wasn’t in the heat of the moment, she realized that he was a rather daunting figure. When he got close to her, he leaned over to grab something that was behind her and held it to her face. She stared at the offending piece of food and then back at him.
"Eat," he commanded.
“Why would I—“
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
They stared each other down for a few seconds. And then without moving her eyes from his, she grabbed the meat out of his hand and said, “Sure, why the hell not,” and took a bite.
Just to hurt his pride after all the drama he had caused, she wanted to say something terrible about the food. Besides, it wasn’t like anything he made could have been that good with his cocky attitude. But Kagome couldn’t say the insults she had formed in her head when the meat entered her mouth. It was savory with a tad bit of sweet and had a tangy flavor to it. It melted in her mouth. She hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that one piece had her hungering for more.
"It's delicious," she admitted in surprise. He scoffed.
"Of course it is, woman. I made it."
And the ego came back. Kagome rolled her eyes. Then he fed her another piece of something else. She blamed it on her hunger that she accepted another bit of food from him. It was also overwhelmingly good. She didn’t even like avocados but she found that even with acocado in whatever she was eating, she didn’t care.
“So did your wedding party turn out perfect?” he asked conversationally after giving her access to the leftover food trays. Kagome, once again, found herself complying with him (which she blamed once more on her hunger and the food).
“Definitely not perfect, but as close to it as possible. Sango and Miroku should approve, at the very least.”
“You know the bride and groom personally?” Sesshoumaru questioned.
“They’re old friends.” Kagome answered.
“Do you not have to attend the party as well, then?”
“Of course I do, I just need to find my date and—” Kagome stopped. Her date. Her date. Why did that sound familiar? She mentally went through her checklist from the night before. Check the flowers, make sure the food comes in by 8:00am, make sure the venue she had booked was the correct one, help the bridesmaids into their dresses, send the bride to the beauty salon…She had forgot to get a freaking date! Kagome made a soft noise of agitation.
“Your date?” He brought up, bringing her back to reality.
“Oh, you mean my nonexistent date that I completely forgot about?” Kagome said her thought outloud. She had immediately stopped eating once she had the realization and pounded her palm against her face. Sango would kill her when she realized that her friend had forgotten to get a date. Everything that evening had been arranged in sets of two’s: the seating arrangements, the food, the games...
“Does that pose a large problem?”
“You could say that.” Kagome was so drained she didn’t even care how she was just answering him.
“I shall escort you.”
She looked up at him. He had to be joking, right? They had basically been ripping each other’s throats out the whole morning. He couldn’t have seriously asked her to go with him.
“That’s really nice of you but—”
“It wasn’t a question,” Sesshoumaru interrupted.
What an arrogant man! Kagome thought to herself. She was about ready to give him a piece of her mind, but found she had no energy for it (which was partially his fault too). She grabbed another scrap of food and chewed on it thoughtfully. It would definitely solve her predicament. So she relented.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
One of his immaculate eyebrows rose.
“How magnanimous of you to accept, because of course it’s not me doing you a favor.” He responded sarcastically. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards. When they weren’t biting each other’s heads off, she could appreciate his sarcasm a bit more (and possibly the ego if she tried really hard).
“Thank you.”
He stood up and held his arm out to her.
“Then we shall go.”
“I’m assuming that wasn’t a question either,” she said.
“It was not,” he affirmed. But she stood up and hooked her arm in his.
“So what, are you now going to demand that I hire you again for the next wedding party I plan?”
“On the contrary, I was wondering if you would survive planning your own wedding.”
She laughed. “I guess I don’t really have to worry then. That particular event won’t be happening anytime soon.” He smirked again and she wondered why she felt shivers run down her back as he did.
“Oh, my dear, you’d be surprised.”
The End