Work Text:
Clicky clicky clicky
Every single clack echoed through Inuyasha’s exhausted brain as if they were hammer strokes to a nail directly into the temple.
Didn’t upstairs neighbor know that typing at such an ungodly hour was not only unhealthy, but made for enemies of every neighbor in the apartment complex?
Okay fine. Mostly the neighbors with superhuman hearing like himself, and mostly the neighbors who worked late shifts at restaurants and were just dragging into bed at around 2:30…
Sooo… him.
Yup.
So Inuyasha tried a white noise machine…
…but the tinny sound of even the most expensive speakers he could afford made the white noise even worse than the clickety clack.
Next Inuyasha bought a pair of noise-canceling headphones…
…only to discover that they didn’t cancel out anything except the background white noise. Clicky clicky clicky waltzed right through the filter and into his ears no problem.
Then Inuyasha installed new fancy sound insulation on his ceiling…
…which smelled caustic to his half-demon nose and muffled the sound a bit, but not enough, and meant that for at least a few weeks he had to deal with both the clicky clacks and the scent of chemicals.
Couldn’t upstairs neighbor just adopt a normal person schedule and type things at a civilized hour, like midnight?
No. Apparently not.
Because clicky clicky clicky usually happened between the hours of 2:30am and 7am, when the incessant noise finally stopped and labored footsteps on Inuyasha’s ceiling led him to believe that the person was finally heading to sleep.
That was probably why he had taken to sleeping until about noon, solely so that he could squeeze out at least a few hours of sleep before his day started again and it was time to head back to the restaurant, to prep for the following day.
Fun times.
But exhaustion was just part of a chef’s life. The intensity of the kitchen was something Inuyasha relished in: the lightspeed pace, the hive of chaos needing to be perfectly synched to avoid disaster, the crises barely averted. It made him feel like a king (and in his kitchen, he was), but at the end of the day, even half-demon stamina could not keep up with the pace.
Hence why he really really needed a good night’s sleep.
Clicky clicky clicky didn’t happen every night. And at the beginning it was only maybe a once a week occurrence.
Then once a week become a couple times a week.
Then every other night.
But for the past month, every fucking night.
Clicky clicky clicky. Clicky clicky clicky.
Clicky clicky clicky. Clicky clicky clicky.
Maybe this was some deadline that once it was over, upstairs-neighbor would go back to every other night again, or better yet, not at all.
Clicky clicky clicky.
Or would move out because Inuyasha could not be the only person in the entire fucking building bothered by the noise.
Clicky clicky clicky.
Maybe he could leave a fake note for them, from the “landlord”, explaining that typing on that fucking keyboard late at night was disturbing some of the residents (...Inuyasha…) and they should try typing on a less disruptive keyboard not at a time that some of the residents (...Inuyasha…) were trying to sleep.
Clicky clicky clicky
Maybe he could just… bring them a new keyboard that was quiet and include a note about the ergonomic benefits of silence…
Clicky clicky clicky
Or he could storm up to that fucking apartment right now, because it had been a long fucking day, complete with three overly entitled bullshit customers, one food blogger so full of themselves they seemed to believe that having Instagram followers entitled them to free food and a sit-down with the chef, and one person who forgot to mention an avocado allergy and ordered the shrimp cocktail.
Ironically the last one was actually really apologetic about the whole thing.
A hard day at work is absolutely a legitimate reason to knock on this unknown person’s door.
At 3:11.
In the morning.
He was stressed, okay?
One knock. A halt to clicky clicky clicky.
Two knocks. A yelp.
Three knocks. Soft but hesitant footfalls coming closer and closer.
And a scent. A woman’s scent. A fearful woman’s scent.
Crap.
Did he just hear a little whimper?
Crap crap crap crap CRAP.
It was 3am.
He was a random half-demon standing outside a woman’s door looking pissed off.
Why? Because she typed on a clicky keyboard.
This was bad. This was very very bad.
He needed to abort, to find some reasonable excuse for being there. Maybe he thought he heard something and wanted to make sure she was okay—exactly like a stalker would do.
Fuck.
What about there was an urgent letter to her in his mailbox and he was delivering it?
…without a letter and at 3am.
Fucking fuck.
She lost her hamster and he could help her search for it because his ears were really good and—
Jesus Christ.
Yeah. Inuyasha was probably going to jail for the night when this poor hapless woman called the cops on him.
For lurking outside her door.
At 3am.
Which was kinda sorta a valid reason to call the cops, honestly.
The door creaked open, pawed by delicate fingers and a single hazel eye peeped from the crack.
“Hi.” Inuyasha’s voice cracked. “Uh, so I work at a restaurant and live below you and—” Yeah, this was going about as well as showing up at 3am to berate someone for typing on a computer was ever going to go, but he might as well commit to it. “And I have dog ears so I have hearing like a dog and your typing is—um, I can hear it.”
Inuyasha would not have believed he could go through all seven stages of grief in the span of one person opening a door, but… there they were.
“Oh. You—you’re crying.” (Shock and Denial)
“I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” (Pain and Guilt)
“Stupid. Last thing you needed is my dumb ass standing here at—” (Anger and Bargaining)
“3am. Good fucking job Inuyasha.” (Depression)
“It’s—it’s really okay. I—I’m not even mad!” (The Upward Turn)
“Maybe—maybe I could get you a keyboard or something and then you never have to see my face again!” (Working Through)
“Are—are you okay?” (Acceptance: mostly of the fact that he, Inuyasha, was a stupid idiot…)
Her hair was as black as a raven’s feather, disheveled from anxious mussing and hung just below her shoulders. Her eyes, bright green ringed hazel were puffy and pink, and salty tear streaks painted her cheeks. Her lips were full, pinched between apprehensive teeth and split from worrying them.
And lord, if she thought the fuzzy pink pajamas could hide her full bust and perfect curves, she had another thing coming. Her breasts wouldn’t fit in his hand (and he had big hands—bad Inuyasha). God, then her scent? She smelled like caramel; who even smells like that?
Artwork by the wonderful kalcia
Basically, the woman that Inuyasha decided to accost at 3 in the morning is what a genie would construct for him if he wished for a woman specifically designed to be his type.
Yeah.
“I—I…” God her voice sounded like a windchime in a gentle breeze, even as she stuttered. Salt was building in the air, and her body wobbled; Inuyasha clenched every muscle in his body to keep from lunging forward and pulling the delectable woman into his arms and vowing to protect her for the rest of time. “I’m—”
This time her wobble caught her off balance, and suddenly she was in Inuysaha’s arms. He wasn’t going to pull her in closer—he wasn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” she sniffled; god she was trembling. Inuyasha was officially going to die, holding this perfect woman in his arms. “It helps me—the keyboard helps me… I’m writing my thesis and have been having trouble and the only time that I get stuff done is really late and I didn’t even think—”
“That some weirdo half demon with dog ears was going to show up at your door and harass you?” Inuyasha heard the words pour from his mouth before he could stop them. “M-maybe I could try a different white noise machine or something.”
“N-no. I should be able to work at normal hours to get this stupid thing done. It—it’s just,” she was actively leaning into Inuyasha’s shoulder now; god she was rubbing her scent into his shirt. “I didn’t realize that grad school was going to be so hard and that my stupid brain would never cooperate when I was trying to—” She jerked backward, her eyes wide. “Oh god. Now I’m oversharing. I—I’m really sorry. I’m sure I can just try to work earlier in the evening or—or… yeah, it’ll be f-fine.”
Inuyasha didn’t need to detect the shift in the woman’s scent to know that it was not going to be fine. He literally had just taken away the one time she was productive (he knew this, he could literally hear it), because he was a selfish ass whose ears were too fucking sensitive.
There was another sound too. One that didn’t take Inuyasha’s ears, nor professional chef career to recognize. One that told him why the genie wish woman who would stumble into his arms and cry so easily.
“When was the last time you had any food?”
“Oh uh. That’s a…” She looked back at her apartment, as if that could answer the question. “I can’t remember.”
“Okay, you need food. I—I’m a professional chef so… I can make you something while you work.” Jesus. He was really suggesting this. He, who just three minutes earlier was so exhausted from fucking cooking that he stormed up to an unknown’s apartment to tell them to shut the fuck up. Right. And he was a stranger who stormed up to her at an ungodly hour and… were her eyes starting to brighten? Well damn, he was already committed. “Do you like omelets?”
“Y—yeah.”
“Okay.”
Inuyasha stared down at the pan, the eggs, and the assorted vegetables that he scavenged from the bewildered woman’s fridge, as she stood in her kitchen’s doorway and stared at him.
Yeah.
Somehow he had managed not only to not get the clicky clicky clicky to stop, but here he was, two hours after the end of his exhausting shift in a restaurant… cooking. For a stranger. Who he had come upstairs to yell at.
He was officially the worst negotiator on planet earth.
“What’s your name?” She finally asked.
Right. They’d skipped that part.
“Inuyasha…” Inuyasha stared at the pan, because obviously omelets needed a lot of supervision. “Inuyasha Taisho.”
“Oh I got a package for you by accident once.” Why was even this woman’s small talk the cutest thing he had ever witnessed? Right. Perfect genie woman. “I—I’m Kagome Higurashi.”
“What are you writing your thesis on?” Inuyasha continued to concentrate on the stove. Very important egg things were happening.
“Um. Robin Hood.” She murmured, yet as if saying the word lit something inside, the tension in her face relaxed. “Well, moreso the way that the Robin Hood mythos changed over time based on who was patronizing it. Like—like… did you know that Robin Hood used to be a commoner, and was changed during the Elizabethan era to be a noble?”
“Huh.” Inuyasha hadn’t known that.
“Y—yeah. A lot of mythology is like that. Like… every Greek myth was really local, based on what the people in power wanted the story to teach. Robin Hood is just a fairly modern example.” Whatever defeat had muddled Kagome’s voice just moments ago had fizzled away, replaced with a bright enthusiasm that Inuyasha swore he could smell over the nearly-finished omelet. “Comic books, even video games, are reimaginings of these myths to some degree. It’s fascinating because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.” A giggle. She was smiling. “I guess I have too many ideas in my brain for where to go next, and it’s been tough just letting myself focus.”
“And the best time for you to focus is 2am?” Inuyasha teased. He plated the omelet and handed it to Kagome, along with a fork.
“Yeah.” Kagome took one dainty bite, but the moment that the food hit her mouth she seemed to forget that she was being observed and turned her fork into a shovel. “Oh my god, this is amazing!”
Even putting away an omelet like a starving hyena was adorable on this woman.
“Good to know I can cook an omelet,” Inuyasha teased. “Feeling a little bit better?”
“Yeah,” Kagome smiled, so naturally it made Inuyasha think that her default facial expression was smiling; he wanted to make her smile all the time. “Thank you, seriously.”
“Gotta re-up that brain juice so you can finish that thesis,” Inuyasha replied, turning his attention to the used pan and spatula, bringing them over to the sink. “Makes me wanna know… what’s your favorite myth?”
“Modern one? Wonder Woman.” Kagome answered, that easy smile now reaching even her body language. “Something about people with superhero gifts deciding that they want to use them to help the everyman just gets me.” Her face then turned as pink as the pajamas she was wearing. “Like a chef staying up and instead of yelling at me, making me an omelet.”
Inuyasha Taisho was officially in trouble.
“Keh.” Deep deep trouble. “It’s no big deal. I can get some better noise canceling stuff for my ears. You need to finish your thesis and stuff. I’ll survive.”
“No way,” Kagome seemed to realize that Inuyasha was doing her dishes, and nudged him out of the way, taking over. “Wait. Have I been keeping you up every time I work on that keyboard?”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.” When Kagome put a fork in the drying rack, Inuyasha grabbed it and a towel to dry it. “I have gone longer without sleeping.”
“Oh my god.” Kagome paused and stared down at the dish in her hand, then snapped her attention back to Inuyasha. “I’ve been fighting my thesis for months. You’ve been laying awake to my typing all that time? And—and you still came to my apartment and cooked me food?”
“More or less,” Inuyasha murmured. “I was gonna buy you a quieter keyboard too and leave it as a passive aggressive gift from the landlord.”
“Thanks then,” Kagome leaned into Inuyasha. “For actually showing up.”
“No problem.” Inuyasha’s cheeks burned, because the water was hot. Clearly.
“And for the food,” Kagome continued, passing Inuyasha the last dish to be dried.
“You need to make sure you eat next time,” Inuyasha grumbled. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you only work and don’t eat. And then who is gonna write a thesis on how cool Wonder Woman is?”
“Th—thanks. Again. For everything.” Kagome tugged on the corner of her shirt, her eyes locked on his. It might have been the sleep deprivation, or maybe the absurdity of the situation, but Inuyasha could swear that she was going to say something else before swallowing down those words.
“I—I better go.” Godfuck he didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here and talk to Kagome about comic books and mythology and when her stomach grumbled to scamper into her kitchen and feed her things she called delicious.
No, he actually had to sleep. Because tomorrow he was going to be wielding knives in a kitchen near boiling water and even as he had half-demon healing, slicing off a finger from lack of sleep was against the health code (and hurt like a bitch.)
“Um. Good night.” She was biting the same place on her lip again. “Thanks… Inuyasha Taisho. And—and I’ll get this keyboard thing under control! I promise!”
Inuyasha plodded down the stairs, back to his own apartment, then plopped into bed.
Clicky clicky clicky came from Kagome Higurashi, who was struggling to write her thesis on the mythos of Robin Hood, while wishing she could write about comic books and video games.
Clicky clicky clicky was her determination to fight through her writers block and focus, wiping the frustrated tears out of her eyes and running her fingers through her hair.
Clicky clicky clicky was beautiful, and determined, and had a natural smile that looked so much better on her face than a frown.
But tonight, there would be no clicky clicky clicky.
Because of Inuyasha’s ears.
And even as it was the first quiet night in months, Inuyasha missed clicky clicky clicky.
There was something about a good night’s sleep that changed one’s perspective on the world. In Inuyasha’s case, it meant three separate people asking if they could give their compliments to the chef, one successful experiment in green pea foam over toast, and no fewer than three members of his staff asking if he had had a good date the night before or something…
Five hours of uninterrupted sleep really could change a person (especially with a shirt that smelled of caramel.)
But it meant tonight, as he finished his routine, there was no clicky clicky clicky. Inuyasha would get yet another wonderful night of sleep.
This was great.
This was… great.
Kagome had taken his request to heart and made sure her typing was quiet now. She would not disturb him again.
It was great.
Yeah, this was the best thing that happened in months.
And it was only natural for him to stand on his dresser and press his ear as close to the ceiling as he possibly could, because if she had stopped completely because of him then that was bad too. Kagome Higurashi had important thesis things to do, and if she was sacrificing her inspiration time for his ears, then—
There it was. Something. It was low and barely audible, as if fingers were tapping on a rubber pad.
Apparently Kagome had gone and purchased a quiet keyboard that day.
Totally wonderfully great.
The one time intervention had worked. Kagome wouldn’t need to hear from Inuyasha again.
She hopefully would remember to feed herself too—theses required food.
Wait.
There was another sound. One accompanied by a stop in the plodding on the keyboard.
A sniffle.
Inuyasha had knocked on Kagome’s door before he even realized he’d scrambled out of his own apartment and up the stairs.
Watery hazel eyes met his.
“Shit, I thought that keyboard was better. Still bad?” Kagome was trying to hold back tears.
“No—no! It’s great! I could barely hear anything.” Inuyasha murmured. He decided it was probably best to leave it there and not mention the ear-to-the-ceiling thing. “B-but without the keyboard I heard you—” Inuyasha stopped before mentioning that hearing Kagome cry sent him running like the damn puppy he was. “Have you eaten anything?”
When Kagome shook her head, Inuyasha frowned.
“How does vegetable soup sound?” Inuyasha was already pulling down the pots and knives that he needed before Kagome managed to open her mouth. “Um, and tell me about Wonder Woman some more.”
Yeah. Inuyasha’s sleep schedule was about to be far worse than when he endured clicky clicky clicky, but the trade… for smiling eyes and caramel scent and facts about mythology and comic books was absolutely worth it.