Randomity by Incomprehensible

Randomity

Characters and plot belong to their rightful owners.

Randomity

It had popped. She was sure of it.

It had popped just moments before, and yet she couldn't be persuaded to go look even if she had wanted to.

The shackles that tied her to the chair were doing their job thoroughly, and Kagome cursed the being that had put them there to the very pits of Hell. She'd been told they were fiery.

Very fiery.

She hated being a dependent person, and Sesshoumaru had made her so much more dependant than she cared for. She knew he was probably just taking advantage of her apparent weakness, no longer having the ability to get up properly without help, but this was taking it to the extreme. She had explained to her over-protective husband that chaining her to the chair, and the chair to the table, wasn't going to help anything productive.

Sesshoumaru, however, had other ideas, and to him, apparently, the manacles were necessary.

She knew then that she probably wasn't going to like whatever he had in store for her.

How he even put up with her over the past twelve and a half months was a mystery to her. Kagome, herself, probably would have screamed and smacked herself silly if she were in Sesshoumaru's position. As it was, she'd had enough of being pregnant and emotionally, and hormonally-charged, and was more than sick of going through moods like a tiller through soil, but the whole chair deal was taking it way too far.

She couldn't even point out to him when something happened, because he'd shush her and then go back to running around her kitchen (her kitchen!) like a hooker before a priest. Or, Kagome mused silently, the priest before the hooker.

“Sesshoumaru!” Kagome whined, shifting marginally to accommodate her large girth on the chairs that just seemed too small to bear her weight these days.

“No.” He grunted non-committally, hunching over the stove and carefully flipping a pancake before swearing colourfully and flipping the bacon.

The theme was Western. Pancakes, eggs, bacon and toast. Sesshoumaru was passionate about feeding her and doing it right. Apparently the traditional peanut butter-and-pocky breakfast she'd been having for the last two months wasn't enough to be credited as “nutritional”, and Sesshoumaru had taken up the duty of being her caretaker. When it came to eating, at least. It was funny, though, because for the past ten months he'd been pretty much nonexistent when it came to food and Kagome. She was almost positive some of her cravings had sent him reeling.

Kagome craned her neck, surveying the kitchen.

“Sesshoumaru...” She started, her eyes widening and her heart rate accelerating. “Sesshoumaru,” she tried again. “The toaster is on fire.”

The toaster was effectively doused in cold water, the fire fizzling out with an audible hiss, and Kagome's eyes misted up, her lower lip quivering.

“He was a good toaster.” Kagome murmured under her breath, sniffing and then gagging. Smoke and her pregnancy didn't go well at all. “Open a window, Sesshoumaru!” Kagome gasped out, her sides heaving and her nostrils flaring.

Oh, God, she chanted, oh, God, oh, God, I'm going to be sick!

The sound of soft, padding feet on the hard-wood floors of their remote home made their way to Kagome's ears, and not a second later Dascher, their Pharaoh Hound, came skidding into the kitchen. Kagome cooed at the familial pet, forgetting about the toaster and the smoke, and giggled affectionately when Dascher barked at her, his tail wagging, and placed his head in her lap.

Dascher had a funny bark. Instead of the “arf, arf” that normal dogs had, Dascher's sounded like words. Two, in specific: “Booh”, and “eh-eh-han”.

Kagome had since recognized the individual sounds as “blue” and “elephant”, and when both came together, it made her hysterical, although, she wasn't sure if that was the effect of her hormones going crazy on her, or just her natural humour. She hoped it was the first of the two.

Now, patting Dascher's snout and watching Sesshoumaru scuttle around the kitchen (something that could be likened to a bug), Kagome wondered what she had done to deserve such a family. A caring husband, an affectionate dog, and a baby on the way.

Tears threatened to fall as Kagome placed a tender hand on her stomach, feeling the baby kick. “What will we name him?” She asked, rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin. Sesshoumaru turned around, one eye fixed on her and the other on the pan of bacon, fizzling and popping.

“Name who?” He asked distractedly.

“The baby!” She scolded, outraged that he had forgotten about her pregnancy. He had, after all, shackled her to the chair because of that very fact! He could at least have the decency to remember that she was pregnant!

Twelve months along, too, thank you very much.

“Keiji.” Sesshoumaru said after a moment of silence. He turned the stove off and Kagome watched in rapt fascination as he plated the food and put it in front of her. She hummed her thanks to him and scooted forward on her chair, ready to eat. “No.” He told her, and she stopped her movement.

Dascher pranced around the table, yipping happily at the two.

“What have I told you?”

Kagome paused, thinking. “When?” She asked carefully. He gave her a meaningful look, and Kagome sighed guiltily. “You told me that you were in charge of my eating habits from now on.” She quoted, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. She was hungry and she was hungry now, dammit! “But what does that have to do with me eating?!” She whined. “You cooked, so why can't I eat?” She was on the verge of tears, now.

“I feed you.” He said, and picked up the fork. Kagome blinked.

“What if they're twins?” Kagome asked between bites, the chains rattling as she strained to have both hands touching her rounded belly.

“Then,” Sesshoumaru told her, cutting and feeding her another piece of pancake. “You will name them.”

Kagome was sure they were going to be boys. A woman's intuition, her mother had called it. She was sure that was it, because the way they kept bouncing on her bladder, she was positive they couldn't be boys. A moment of tense indecision passed, and then Kagome grinned. “Bobert and Qwerty!” She exclaimed, and Sesshoumaru's face screwed up in disgust.

There was silence.

“Sesshoumaru,” Kagome stressed. “The toaster is on fire again!”

And it had just started snowing.

In August.

Lovely.

(QWERTY is the traditional placement of the first six letters on keyboards, relating back to the traditional typewriters of the century. Usually on the left, the first line. And speaking of, does anyone out there have a stick of butter? Anyways, this one goes to Mikaela for giving me the prompts and inspiration to move my lazy ass. Yippie! Title goes to Maru's Boy. – Incomprehensible)