She was late.
He'd been very specific about when he would pick her up, and with the clouds rolling in, he hadn't been able to find adequate shelter. The trees saved him from being completely soaked, but water had leached up the edges of his kimono, leaving him cold and uncomfortable.
She would hear of his displeasure.
The fact that he was even waiting for her, for anyone, was out of character for him. The Lord of the West waited for no one.
Yet here he was, sitting on the damp ground and staring at a run-down well, waiting.
Scowling, he willed himself to get up, to give up, but he knew he wouldn't. He would wait until his bones turned to dust, if only to see her again.
To see her smile.
The three years after she'd disappeared had dragged, like he'd gone through another lifetime, one without light or colour. He hadn't understood at first and had forced him through the motions of rebuilding after the death of the spider.
Rin had been placed into the care of the elder miko after leaving her to her own devices at the shiro, and she'd fainted from malnutrition. Jaken had always been the one to look after her, and Sesshoumaru had somehow forgotten that humans require more sustenance than youkai.
His jaw clenched at the memory of the old woman berating him at Rin's condition. He'd only allowed it because she'd agreed to bring his ward back to full health.
Her parting shot about what the miko's reaction would've been didn't help matters. He'd already been perseverating on the woman—it was the reason he'd neglected Rin in the first place—but the shame he'd felt because of what she would've felt was new and agonizing.
He cared about what she thought.
Because he cared about her.
Claws flexed as he adjusted his posture, avoiding the downpour as the branches above him became too weighed down.
He'd happened to be the one next to the well when it reactivated. It was the only place that brought him peace after her disappearance, and when the spark of power had ignited, he'd leapt to his feet, ready to dispatch whoever had dared to tamper with the only connection anyone had left of her. Instead, her hand had reached out, sliding easily into his, and she'd greeted him with a dazzling smile.
Colour had returned to his world that day.
It had taken several years of being in her presence before he'd gathered up the nerve to approach her about furthering their relationship. He'd prepared himself for every possible outcome—every possible rejection—but she'd simply brushed her lips along the underside of his jaw and said, "Took you long enough."
How she managed to read him so well, he'd never know.
He flared his power, ensuring he was the only one in the vicinity. He was not a public creature, and though she'd agreed to his suit, it was no one's business but their own. He'd been worried there might be a resurgence in her lack of self-confidence due to her dealings with his brother—how could he explain that he was not ashamed of her, just that he wanted to keep her to himself?
But she'd been just as willing to keep their affair private, enjoying their time together without anyone else's interference. She did, however, enjoy doing things in public that would rile him up without anyone noticing.
It had become her favourite game.
Even the kit had asked him what had him so jumpy lately after she'd managed to nip at his ear while pouring his tea. Kagome had nearly doubled over in laughter as said ears had turned the same shade as his markings, the promise of comforting him later doing little to settle his nerves.
Power receded as he lay back against the tree. No one else was stupid enough to be out in this weather. The rain wasn't heavy, but it was enough to dull his senses.
It was another reason he hated waiting, especially for her. Even with clear weather, he was too distracted to pay attention to his surroundings. Her scent was intoxicating, and he spent more time inhaling and touching and tasting.
She never complained; he could tell she enjoyed having that amount of power over him, but no one should've been able to sneak up on him—least of his brother.
They hadn't been doing anything nefarious, but the fact that he hadn't been able to sense his proximity had his instincts reeling for days. As a warrior, he'd been trained to block out everything in order to focus on nothing but victory.
But Kagome didn't care about that.
She cared about helping others and whispered words of affection and hand-holding. All three of which seemed to have been added to his arsenal since her return. Granted, there was no impending threat, and healing the sick and injured took less time than battle plans. He enjoyed her company regardless of what they were doing, but that was beside the point.
Right?
A bolt of lightning stopped him from delving into it any further, reiki sparking as the well lit up with her arrival, and he watched as Kagome hoisted herself out. She looked around, holding up her hands to catch a few raindrops before darting over to him.
Sesshoumaru got to his feet, knowing she would kneel down if he didn't, uncaring of the mud staining her clothes. "You are late. And you are not dressed appropriately."
She did a twirl, as he knew she would, showing off her latest ensemble, likely a gift from her mother. He enjoyed the bright colours—the hues of blue and purple always made her eyes glow—but it was raining, and she was wearing one of those infernal skirts of hers again.
"It was sunny at Mama's house," she argued. Not home. She'd stopped referring to it as such since agreeing to his suit, and he secretly preened every time it came up.
"That does not negate the fact it is early spring, and you are not adequately covered." He scowled as the branch above them released its bounty, narrowly missing her. Removing his pelt, he attempted to wrap it around her shoulders, but she evaded him, an odd gleam swirling in her eyes as she beckoned him out into the open.
"Miko, this is not the time for games," he chastised. "The last time you fell ill, you were bedridden for a week."
"I'd just finished curing a village of the flu!" she argued. "A little water isn't going to hurt." She stepped out of the protection of the canopy, kicking off her shoes. They landed at his feet with a dull thud, and he reached down to collect them but was interrupted. "Dance with me."
She grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from the tree, her shoes, and his pelt. "Kagome—" But she refused to hear no.
He should've known better than to leave his armour at home.
He'd become so accustomed to wearing it that it had become part of his regular routine, even with there being no lingering threats. But one passing comment from Kagome about how she enjoyed it when he didn't wear it because she could get closer was all it took for him to start showing up without it. And she'd noticed, mentioning it with a very smug smile on her face.
Multiple times.
She twirled again, spinning out of his grasp as she lured him out into the open, uncaring of the rain dripping from her nose. He tried to get closer, to pull her closer, but she knew him too well, easily avoiding his outstretched hands. "I know you're uncomfortable," she murmured. "But let me show you how wonderful it can be."
Water glistened on her hair and face like diamonds, and Sesshoumaru let out a resigned huff. When would she learn that everything was wonderful as long as she was with him?
Perhaps he should tell her more.
If she would only keep still.
But, alas, he couldn't find it in him to care, not when she was smiling at him so warmly. And he knew that smile. It was for him alone, though he hadn't realized it until his awkward confession. It was an odd expression without context, as if she were keeping a secret, and he grabbed for her again, wanting to partake in it.
Kagome laughed, the sound muted by the rain, finally placing her hand in his as she spun around. She was so graceful now, confidence lightening her steps and brightening her smile.
He would have all of it.
He would have all of her.
Would she be this carefree with their children? Would he? He'd avoided the offers of mutually beneficial alliances even before the spider, unwilling to birth an heir on the off chance of ending up like his father.
He would not leave them lonely.
But as her siren song swam around them, he found himself revisiting the idea. With her, he would be willing to try. With her, he would succeed.
With her, he would be happy.
The ends of her hair hit him in the face, pulling him out of his heated thoughts, and Kagome instantly dissolved into laughter, attempting to wipe the water from his face between hiccups. "I'm sorry! I thought you'd duck." An arm wrapped around her waist to keep her still, bare feet barely touching the ground as his other hand caught a lock of her sodden hair and lifted it to his lips.
"Perhaps I was distracted."
A blush spilled onto her cheeks, but she leaned against him. "You always say that."
"It is always true where you are concerned."
She draped her arms over his shoulders. "I missed you."
His expression softened. "You were only gone for a few hours."
She raised her chin. "Doesn't mean I can't miss you." She gave him a knowing, albeit sideways, glance. "Are you saying you didn't miss me?"
Tugging on the lock of hair still in his claws, he stole a kiss, the taste of sweetened citrus mixing with spring rain. "I would never say that." She perked up and kissed him again, neither in any rush. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip but pulled back before he could deepen the embrace, holding him at arm's length as she intertwined their fingers.
The storm would soon pass, but Kagome was content to sway to a song he couldn't hear, and when she began to shiver, she simply stepped into his embrace, head resting on his shoulder. "Thanks for indulging me."
"I indulge only because it is you, Kagome."
"Is that your way of saying you love me?" Love didn't even begin to describe how he felt for her, and he told her as such, enjoying how her face lit up. "Good thing the feeling is mutual, then." She kissed him soundly, and he indulged her once again, continuing to sway until the rain ebbed and the sun burst through the clouds.