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Kagome smiled softly as she tucked Rin and Shippou into bed. They'd fallen asleep holding hands, and while she knew she'd have to repeat the second half of the book she'd been reading tomorrow, the sight calmed her heart like nothing else could.
After returning to the feudal era, the last thing she'd expected was for Inuyasha to want to settle down. He hadn't wanted to settle down with her, he'd just grown tired of travelling every day. She couldn't blame him; he'd never had a place to come home to, and now that things had calmed down, so had his wanderlust.
Not so for her.
Forced back to her own time and into a sedentary lifestyle had left her bored and wanting, and while she hadn't expected to jump back into battle mode, it wasn't long before she was itching for the chance to travel.
Enter Sesshoumaru.
She'd already planned to gather herbs for Kaede in the neighbouring village, offering to take Rin with her for company, so when the Western Lord showed up on the morning they were set to leave, she'd thought it would be a simple goodbye. Instead, Rin had enthusiastically informed him of their plans, and the next thing Kagome knew, the young teen had convinced her stoic father figure to join them.
Kagome combed her fingers through the girl's hair, wondering, not for the first time, how such a small child could change someone so drastically. He'd gone from melting humans to saving them, and if she hadn't witnessed it herself, she wasn't sure she would've believed it.
Rin told her the story of Bakusaiga any chance she got, and now it was complete with pictures. She'd drawn them all herself, only letting Shippou paint them once she was satisfied with the linework. She spent most of her days helping Kaede and learning to be a healer, but she was already an accomplished artist, and Kagome hoped she never gave it up.
Even now, there were bits of parchment littered around the room from their latest creative adventure, dried paint splotches decorating the floor. They'd have to clean it up before they left the inn, but for now, she'd let them dream.
Patting their blankets, she padded silently out of the room, sliding the door closed behind her. Sesshoumaru looked up from the engawa, a circle of smoke rising out of his kiseru. He made an ethereal sight, the outline of his braid illuminated in the moonlight.
"They're asleep," she said, unable to look away. He inclined his head, holding her gaze as she slowly made her way over to him. There'd been no invitation, but she wasn't tired yet, so she dangled her feet off the edge, breathing in the night air.
The inn itself was a surprise, nestled in the core of a youkai village she'd never heard of, and though Kagome had been wary, especially with Rin and Shippou, they'd been welcomed with soft smiles and a warm meal. It seemed commonplace, as the children hadn't batted an eye, treating it like any other rest stop.
She chuckled, drawing his eye, her smile only growing as she leaned back on her hands. "They're not so little anymore," she said wistfully. It had been almost ten years since the fall of Naraku, and the entire group had flourished once the weight of their impending deaths had been lifted from their shoulders.
A prestigious kitsune school had recruited Shippou, and he'd recently gained a second tail at the top of his class. He also smiled more often, falling into dreamless sleep instead of being plagued by nightmares of his parents' deaths.
Kagome had never revealed it to anyone, not even Inuyasha, but the reason she had such trouble waking up in the morning was due to the kit tossing and turning at night, unable to settle until the early hours of the morning. She'd been worried when he'd left for school, but the circles under his eyes weren't as noticeable after the first term, easing the disquiet in her heart.
"You worry too much." The low timbre of his voice startled her out of her reverie, and she blushed at how easily he'd read her.
"Not worried," she said. "Just reminiscing."
"One would argue it is the same thing, miko."
"And one would be wrong," she replied cheekily. "Not all memories are distressing. Some are quite happy." She turned toward him. "The first ones I have of you are more annoying than anything." She laughed at his narrowed expression. "I said the first ones! Not all of them."
He took a slow drag from his pipe. "The sentiment is returned."
She didn't falter, still smiling. "I'd hope so. I never would've made an impression if they weren't." She lifted her chin, eying him smugly, but it slowly dissipated when there wasn't a snarky comeback, amber eyes unblinking as he stared at her.
"Indeed."
The air felt thick, and she swallowed, trying to decipher the odd expression on his face. She'd never been close enough to him to do so before, and she found herself enthralled by his beauty.
There was always something other about him, even when he was waving his sword around. Kagome bit back a snort. Sesshoumaru never waved his weapon. Each movement was gracefully and purposely planned—minus the shattering of his armour.
And he'd forgiven her for that, considering he'd saved her not only from the poison maker but the bowels of Naraku as well. The memory sobered her, and she reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his hand. He gave her a startled look, fingers flexing, but she held firm. "I never thanked you for saving me."
It was still surprising to think about. They'd barely interacted, and never in a positive way. Yet it was his claws that had pierced Mukotsu's chest, and it was him standing over her while she'd been unconscious.
How much of an impression had she made?
She wasn't delusional enough to think she'd changed him as much as Rin, but it had been sufficient to see her as more than just an obstacle. That odd look returned, features pinched, and she watched as the muscles along his jawline clenched and unclenched. "It is of no consequence."
"We never would have defeated the jewel if you hadn't," she said. "And even if that weren't the case, it meant something to me." She squeezed his hand harder. "There are fates worse than death."
He gave her a curt nod, a scarce incline of his head, then pulled his hand away. They lapse into an awkward silence, though it was only awkward because he refused to talk to her, and Kagome soon found herself waning.
More smoke rose from the kiseru, though his exhale sounded like more of a sigh. Kagome blinked, realizing her eyes had slid shut, and he drew his leg up, resting his free arm across it. "It grows late, miko."
She hummed in agreement, glancing at the solitary bed over her shoulder. "Will you sleep tonight?" It had been several days since he had, but he seemed on edge about something.
His eyes flickered in the same direction. "It is unlikely I will find rest tonight."
Nodding, she patted his shoulder. "Feel free to wake me up if you do. Or just push me out of the way. The bed is big enough." He snorted but didn't respond, and the blankets from the inn remained untouched. The night was warm enough that she wouldn't need it, and her limbs were too heavy to bother.
Pulling the pillow close, she curled herself around it, hoping he'd leave the door open so she could wake at first light.
Kagome shifted in her sleep, something sliding over her shoulders as she turned over. She knew it was still too early, could smell the dew in the air, but as she buried her face deeper into her pillow, she realized her feet were now covered.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked until the white and red came into focus. Moonlight was still filtering in through the open doorway, giving her at least an hour before dawn, but she distinctly remembered going to bed without blankets.
Sitting up slowly, she blinked again as Sesshoumaru's outer haori slid from her shoulders, the large layer of silk covering her entire body. He lay on the edge of the futon, back facing her and close enough to touch if she reached out.
Silver hair was tucked under his head, along with his arm, and she was surprised to realize that not only was he sleeping, but he was lying down. Any time he'd slept, it was sitting at the base of a tree, giving him the edge of being able to get to his feet if there was a threat.
His armour had been discarded, though she couldn't see where, and the temperature had dropped enough to warrant him covering her with his outer layer instead of the blanket.
Kagome bit her lip, wondering if there were any implications to the offering, and deciding to push her luck, lifting the edge of the silk over his body as well. She had to scoot closer, her body pressed against his, but instead of pulling back, like a sane person, she snuggled up against him, inhaling deeply before settling back into sleep.
She would be the death of him. Though, in this case, it would be his own fault.
He should've known better than to get this close to her. Even sitting on the edge of the engawa had been a mistake. The miko was a compassionate creature, offering soft, reassuring touches when they weren't called for, and each one had his instincts screaming.
Did she know how badly he wanted her?
He'd only meant to keep her from illness, the night turning colder than anticipated, but the thought of seeing her in his crest had taken root within his mind, and instead of using the provided blanket, he'd removed his armour and used his haori.
The sight had stemmed too many other images, forcing him to seek solace in sleep just to rid himself of them.
She barely moved in her sleep, only murmuring every other hour, so when he'd heard the shuffle of silk, he'd expected her to wake and throw off the covering.
Now, she was pressed against his back, her scent permeating his senses. He doubted she'd done it intentionally, had likely barely been conscious, but the warmth from her body burned through his clothes, setting his teeth on edge.
It would take so little to turn around and—
Sesshoumaru flexed his claws, intent on pulling away, but then she rubbed her face between his shoulder blades, and one arm curled around his waist. "Thanks for keeping me warm," she whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.
He stilled his escape when she didn't pull away, breath evening out. His cleansing breath dragged more of her intoxicating scent into his lungs, and he knew he was sunk. He would be here all night, wrapped in her soft cocoon of trust and temptation.
Yes, she would be the death of him. But perhaps, based on the way honey shifted to caramel, it was not out of the realm of possibilities that he would not be alone in his suffering.
Steeling himself for the conversation come morning, he rested a hand on top of hers, finally relaxing when she intertwined their fingers together.