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The It Couple

Summary:

Kikyou and Inuyasha had it all. They were Hollywood royalty, an acting pair for the generations. And then they went bust, in epic fashion. But the Hollywood machine keeps rolling on. It's up to press agents Miroku and Sango, as well as Kikyou's lovelorn younger sister (and assistant) Kagome, to get The It Couple back together for the cameras in time for their new premiere! Yikes.

Chapter 1: You'll Get Wrinkles

Summary:

In which our mains are introduced doing what they do best - trying to handle all their daily bullshit (or failing to handle it).

Chapter Text

The It Couple

Chapter One

You'll Get Wrinkles

 

 

“Well, Sango, it’s been interesting.” There was a final slapping sound as a stack of random papers was tossed into a cardboard box. Miroku had a wry, humorless smile on his face as he threw an arm around his gigantic potted plant and stood, the contents of his former office piled into his arms.


Sango, trying and failing not to feel awkward and embarrassed, stood up from her computer, wringing her hands. “Mr. Houshi, sir, I just wanted to thank you for all these months of training. I’m sure wherever you’re going--”


Miroku cut her off, raising a hand as much as he could. The pile of clutter in his hands shifted awkwardly and he scrambled to readjust.


“Let’s not. You were a hell of an intern, kid, and you’ll be a hell of a press agent. You’ve got the full off-season to get comfortable before Christmas and Oscar season hit. Good luck to you.” The plant tipped precariously over his elbow.


Sango tried not to blush from the compliment. “Let me at least help you to your car, sir,” she said, starting forward to catch the plant.


He gave her a smirk and stepped backward. “No, no, it’s Hollywood tradition. When you get fired from a place after twelve years, you gotta do your walk of shame by yourself.”


“I’ve never heard of that tradition.”


“It’s not a tradition. I just made it up. Later, Sango. Don’t forget the press gala for ‘To Catch a Soul Stealer’ this Friday night, and Yura Kaminoke has been calling for a quote on Hiten Raimei’s latest girlfriend’s dress at the ‘Cool Hand Ryuko’ premiere. You know the one, where she wore only a velvet snake around her--yeah, I gotta go.” He disappeared out the side door with a resigned sigh.


Sango stood rooted to the spot, then ran a hand through her long brown hair and walked slowly to the now-empty walnut desk in the center of the small office space. Running her hands over its surface, she tried not to feel guilty at the excitement brewing in her stomach.

 


 

 

Miroku almost wished he had taken Sango up on her offer as he stumbled down the backlot alley, dodging extras and production assistants on golfcarts racing to different soundstages. Ah, Hollywood, he thought. He was going to miss it.


Sango was a great girl, smart as a whip and quite capable of the job. She would grow into her role, as green as she was, and be a fantastic press agent for Sunrise Studios. No doubt there.


But where did that leave him? Stuck trying to find a job working for a shithole community theatre somewhere, passing out flyers on street corners, and all because he fell for the wrong woman.


Miroku tossed the box of memorabilia and the ficus into the backseat of his Benz and slammed the door. He was probably going to have to downgrade the car eventually, once the residuals from the studio payments ran out. That pissed him off. Working his ass off since he was a teenaged kid and there would be nothing to show for it, not in this town.


He climbed into the front seat and sat there, his jaw set forward defiantly. When a studio executive like Randall Warner wanted you out of his town, there was no getting around it. All of his old publicist friends weren’t even returning his calls.


“I need a fucking drink,” Miroku muttered, running a hand through his short, ponytailed hair and shoving his keys into the ignition.


The Mercedes roared off through the studio lots, though not as loudly or obnoxiously as he’d have liked. Damn hybrids.

 


 

 

Inuyasha Takahashi was feeling pretty damn good right now. Sure, he was drunk off his ass, with his arm around some blonde chick (“Candy-with-an-eye-eeeee”, she’d called herself), a pack of cigarettes gone, and probably a thousand-dollar bar bill, but he’d take it.


“How ‘bout it, Takahashi?” Kouga Okami, bad boy of film stars and fairly good friend in trying times, was looking at him devilishly, waggling his eyebrows, “One more round?”


Inuyasha removed his arm from “Candieeeeee” and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His silver hair, a mark of his demonic heritage and long since his trademark, hung to his lower back, ruffling slightly in the wake of the dive bar’s electric fan.


“It’s on you this time, Kouga,” he said, “I’m outta quarters.”


“You’re on,” Kouga said, knocking fifty cents into the slot of the foosball table in a dramatic fashion, “Get us some more drinks over here!”


“I got it, I got it,” Inuyasha held up his hands and stumbled over to the bar, “Candieeeeee” having abandoned him to go sit down in the corner and pout into her makeup case.


“Another round of the same, please sir,” he slurred at the bartender, who was eyeing him warily.


“I’d say you’ve had enough, sir,” the barman said hesitantly.


Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed. “Listen here,” he said, pulling out his wallet, “You see this? This is an Amex Black Card. You know what it means?”


“I know what it means.”


“Can you read the name on here?”


“I know who you are, sir.”


“Oh, good,” Inuyasha said, flashing a charming smile, “That’s good. So one more round, how ‘bout it? I’ll go as far to buy another round for everyone in here.”


“Sir, I--”


“You hear that, everyone?” Inuyasha turned to the crowd inside, not a few of whom had been watching his every move since he’d walked into the joint a few hours before and several of whom immediately tried to hide the phones that had been taking pictures and videos of him, “Shots on me!”


There was a cheer from the bar patrons, and the bartender sighed and went to pull all the shot glasses he had from underneath the counter.


Inuyasha gave a sarcastic little wave to the crowd that was filming him, relishing the sheepish looks, and then looked down the long bar. This place would have been right at home in an eighties action movie, he thought. Dolph Lundgren sitting at the end, Stallone next to him, maybe even Steven Seagal if the place was desperate enough.


A man sitting in the far back corner caught his eye. He was in his early thirties, had a short black ponytail and one gold earring, and was obviously shitfaced. Well, so was Inuyasha, but more shitfaced.


“Miroku?” Inuyasha called, “Miroku Houshi? Holy shit!”


He bounded over and greeted him with a handshake. Miroku’s blue eyes were well and proper glazed over. Was that a joint in his hand? Inuyasha sniffed. Oh, yes, yes it was.


“How the hell are you,” Miroku said it as if it were a statement and not a question, motioning for Inuyasha to sit down, “Sorry about the mess.”


Inuyasha shoved a few empty beer bottles out of the way. “What are you doing here, man? It’s like three in the afternoon. I thought I was the only one making day drinking a sport; you read the papers. Hell, you almost write the papers sometimes.”


“Hey man,” Miroku slurred, “That hit piece on you about the nervous breakdown had nothing to do with me. That was all Warner’s minions, stirring it up.”


Inuyasha folded his arms behind his head, a serene and winning smile on his face. “Even if it were, Houshi,” he said, “I am way too drunk to give a shit right now.”


“Takahashi! We playin’ or what?!” Kouga’s voice rang out from across the room. He was standing by the foosball table, looking a bit forlorn.


Inuyasha waved him off. “Hey, blondie! Kouga wants to play foosball with you!”


Candieeeeee stood up and teetered on six inch heels over to Kouga, who shot a look of venom at Inuyasha.


“What are you even doing here?” Miroku said, taking the shot the poor overburdened bartender was bringing, “You’ve got more money than God. Shouldn’t you be at the Wilshire or something?”


“Hey, I’ve gotta remain incognito while making an ass of myself.” Inuyasha downed the shot in a quick gulp.

Miroku glanced over Inuyasha’s shoulder at the crowd of filming patrons. “Yeah, doing a great job of that. How much have you had anyway?”

“Not enough.” Never enough, Inuyasha thought.


The look of understanding Miroku flashed him was enough to make him feel oddly self-conscious for a man who was at various times the highest-grossing male movie star in the world.


Time to deflect.


“You didn’t answer my question, Miroku. What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”


“I just got fired.”


“...oh.”


Miroku took another puff of his cigarette. “Replaced by my cute little female intern who’s all of twenty-five years old. After twelve goddamn years of service. Because Warner can’t handle a little jealousy.”


Inuyasha’s ears perked up. “Wait. Did you--”


“Yep. His fucking brand new wife from Slovenia. I had no clue. She acted like I was her saving grace, the one she’d been waiting for. What a crock. The second he threatened to cut her allowance she told him who I was. And here I am.”


“I always told you the ladies would be your downfall, man,” Inuyasha shook his head, “Acting like you’ve gotta be some great Casanova.”


Inuyasha’s expression darkened. “But then again, even the dream girls turn out to be nightmares.”


It was quiet for several moments, the rock music on the jukebox filling the silence between them.


“I’m sorry, man,” Inuyasha said finally.


“Me too,” Miroku replied.


“You wanna get outta here? I think Kouga’s got his hands full anyways.” Inuyasha gestured to the other end of the bar where Kouga was fighting to keep Candieeeeee’s hands out of his various bodily areas.


Inuyasha stood, strode to the counter, and tossed the Black Card at the bartender again. “Do you have a back exit?”


As the two men stumbled out into the still bright California sun, Inuyasha swore he heard Kouga calling him every name in the book.

 


 

 

“Kagooooooome!”


Kagome blinked her eyes open. She was sprawled on a lovely expensive mattress with lovely expensive pillows, wearing her favorite ratty Judas Priest tee shirt and some old boxer shorts. Where even were they again? Oh right, San Diego. The morning show.


With a slight groan, she shoved herself up into a sitting position and glanced at the hotel alarm clock on the nightstand. 4:00 am. No point in even setting an alarm, she had her darling sister for that.


Grumbling, she tossed her long black hair over one shoulder and trudged into the room across the spacious hallway.


“Morning, Kikyou,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice cheerful.


Her elder sister sat at a pearl white vanity table, looking radiant as always even with her long hair in curlers and her face set in a horrible scowl.


“Better cut that face out,” Kagome joked, slipping her hands over her sister’s shoulders and patting once, “You’ll get wrinkles.”


“This isn’t a laughing matter, Kagome!” Kikyou snapped, staring straight into her mirror reflection but adjusting the stricken look on her face all the same, “Just look at this face!”


“I am,” Kagome said, crossing her arms with a yawn, “What’s the problem? Your call time for Morning News 5 isn’t for another two hours. You really should try to sleep a little more.”


Kikyou ignored this advice pointedly and continued as if Kagome hadn’t spoken. “Do you see this?!” she gestured at the slight shadows under her lower eyelids, “I can’t go on TV looking like the Crypt Keeper!”


“Sleep does help with that, sister dear.”


“And another thing,” Kikyou ranted, “I was going through my Instagram just now--”


“Oh God, here we go.”

 

“--and no matter what any of my photos say there’s always at least twenty comments about...about him!”


“Kikyou, I told you to just turn comments off if they bother you so much--”


“I can’t do that! It will decrease my followers! Does no one care that I don’t want to be with Inuyasha anymore? I just want to be left alone! I want to just scream at people, get a life!”


“That’s really not how it works at all--”


Kikyou burst into ugly sobs, dramatically throwing her face into her folded arms and sobbing into the vanity.


Kagome sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, then stepped behind her sister and slipped an arm around Kikyou’s shoulders. Kikyou kept histrionically sobbing.


“Kikyou, come on,” Kagome said gently, “It’s not that bad. I will admit, your squeaky clean image is a little tarnished now, but people forget eventually. You and Inuyasha just broke up three months ago.”


“Seven,” Kikyou’s voice was muffled.


“Well, three as far as the press and the public know. When you’re part of a public couple like that, folks are bound to be curious.”


“It’s all his fault,” Kikyou said into her arms, “Saying all that awful stuff about me to the press!”


“He didn’t say anything to the press, Kikyou,” Kagome gave her sister a gentle pat on the back.


“He didn’t deny anything either!”


“Well, what do you expect? Given the circumstances, I’d say he was pretty well-behaved about the whole thing, for someone who was heartbroken, anyway.”


“There you go!” Kikyou spat, shrugging away from Kagome’s touch and standing to pace dramatically around her luxurious suite in her white silk robe. Kagome called it “playing the queen” in her head but would never say so out loud.


“You’re always defending him! When he attacked my poor Naraku and screamed at me in a club full of people! When he didn’t deny anything when the press said I cheated on him!”


“You did cheat on him.”


“But he could have kept it quiet like a gentleman! You always take his side, Kagome. Just because the two of you had some weird friendship, you think I’m the bad guy!”


Kagome sighed, trying not to blush or get angry. At times like this, it was best to just let Queen Kikyou talk.


“If you had to choose between us, you’d pick him! Admit it!”


“Kikyou,” Kagome stood, face stoic and hands on her hips, “Stop crying, you’re going to be puffy for TV this morning.”


Immediately, Kikyou’s tears ceased and she ran back to the mirror, wiping the streaks off her face. “I need a mineral water, Kagome,” she said, her voice steady and back to business.


“Right away,” Kagome said, and she strode out of the room.

 


 

 

“Listen,” Inuyasha said, a fresh shirt on and a glass of fine whiskey in hand, “I think I’ve got your problem solved. I’ll hire you as my personal publicist.”


Miroku sat on the leather couch of Inuyasha’s living room, a room that would not have looked out of place in any five-star hotel. He was holding his own drink, and smoking another cigarette. That was four so far today. He was going to kill himself. Better smoke two at once.


“Inuyasha, I appreciate the offer, but--”


“No, no, no, listen. You’re the best. I want the best. Hell, like you said, I’m richer than God, right? I can afford you.”


“I’ve never worked for just one client before,” Miroku said slowly.


“How hard can it be? Just make me into a perfect angel for the press.” That statement ended with a chuckle under his breath as he took another swig of whiskey, “Whatever the studio paid you, I’ll match it.”


“I seriously doubt that.”


“Okay, but I’ll come close. Honestly, buddy, we’ve been friends for a long time, and you’d be doing me as much of a favor as I’d be doing you one.”


Miroku’s eyes lit up. “Ohhhh,” he said sagely, “You want me to come onboard for ‘The Red Robe’ premiere.”


“It’s not just that.”


“Isn’t it?”


“Okay, that’s a huge part of it,” Inuyasha ran a hand through his long silver mane of hair, “But I don’t think I can get through it on my own. I mean, hell, we completed shooting six months ago. I haven’t even seen her since then. I have to play nice with her for this damn premiere at Christmastime, and even before then we have a whole slew of press bullshit to slog through. I can’t go it alone. I need someone I can trust.”


“Inuyasha, you have a publicist already.”


“Fucking Totosai?!” Inuyasha snapped, “The guy who introduced me to Kikyou? Who said it would be a great idea for my career to date my costar?”


Miroku sniffed. “In all fairness, it was a great idea for your career.”


There was a heavy silence. Inuyasha’s annoyance looked on the verge of turning to rage. That temper of his was legendary.


With a sigh, Miroku took another sip of his drink. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m thinking like a press agent again. We are notoriously without souls.”


Inuyasha took a swig of his drink again, obviously content to let the conversation move on. “So will you do it?”


Miroku stood, still wobbly after who-knows-how-many drinks in the middle of the afternoon, and crossed the large room toward his friend, glass held aloft.


“I’ll do it.”


Their glasses clinked together hard enough to shatter.


“Aw, shit. Hold on, let me call the maid. Nazuna!