Title: Off White
Author: Priestess Skye
Word Count: 720
Prompt: Cream
Genre: Humour
Rating: G
Universe: Canon/AU, either or, maybe a futuristic canon
There was no greater hell on earth than this, Sesshoumaru thought. He'd rather be knee deep in his own blood, fighting off a horde of youkai, or even Naraku, while nursing an ill Jaken back to hell than stand where he was standing right this minute. The days of sitting in a field filled with flowers, while Rin braided them into his hair was bliss compared to what he felt right now. This was torture. Pure torture.
Of the worse kind possible.
"This is your wedding too," she whispered fervently as she jabbed his hip with her elbow.
"Hn." He was very aware of that fact. He became increasingly aware each and every time she pulled him out the door to drag him to a store such as this one. They needed linens, she stated unequivocally earlier this morning. They needed to dress the tables that would be littering their backyard following the ceremony. He understood the need easily enough, wanting the ceremony and reception to be classy, representing both his values as well as his place in society. What he didn't understand was why she needed him to be present. They had chosen a theme months ago that suited him. He did not need to be standing next to her looking at a white cloth.
"Eggshell," she stated as she examined the soft linen and ran her finger over the delicate floral stitching.
"It's fine," he replied, before lifting his eyes to look at the ceiling. He knew what was coming. They had done this a dozen times before.
"It's not right," she frowned. "The shade isn't right."
"It's off-white."
"It's eggshell. Entirely different."
Kami, save him from women. Where was Naraku when he needed him?
They walked along the shelves, stopping before another pile that looked off-white to him as well. She pulled the cloth from the shelf and held it up to the light. The edge was trimmed with a simple lace, tasteful enough for him. "There is no difference," he stated, sealing his doom. If he annoyed her enough she'd send him home and free him from this torture. It was a tried, tested and true plan. There would be consequences, he knew, but nothing he couldn't overcome. He always got his way.
The look she sent him caused him to shudder for just a moment. "Ivory. I don't see how they can possibly be the same. Just look at them."
"I am looking at them."
Her eyes heated for just a moment, her hands clenched tightly against the cloth. Paying for the ruined cloth would be worth it if she just sent him home. He'd buy them all to be free of this place. Taking a deep breath she carefully folded the cloth and put it back in its place before making her rounds again. "Pick one you like then," she replied through gritted teeth.
Sighing, he scanned the shelves himself, stopping at one off white with just a hint of yellow. Yes, he could tell the difference, a youkai of his tastes and eye sight would have to be blind not to see the differences. He wasn't about to let her in on the game. She would absolutely hate this one. It clashed with the rest of the decor. "Off-white," he stated, handing her the cloth while masking his expression.
Inwardly smirking, he watched the fire in her eyes heat and if she was youkai, he knew they would be going red. She was going to blow any minute and he would be well on his way out the door to do whatever it was he chose to do.
"That's cream," she replied through clenched teeth. She was very carefully keeping her temper in check. "That will clash with everything and we'd have to start from square one again."
"Cream." Yes, he knew. He was getting closer. He reached for the previous cloth she held and held them both up to the light. "Both of them look off-white to me."
A snap echoed through the store and he turned to see a dowel broken into two pieces in her hand. He was free!
"Just go," she growled. "You're absolutely useless. I'll just call Sango."
Rejected and feigning dejection, he turned and walked away, lest he provoke her some more. Stopping at the door, he approached the clerk who witnessed the whole tirade. "Put the dowel on the bill." The added cost was worth the price of freedom.
Every single time, he thought, smirking once the sun hit his face. It worked every single time.