A/N: Written on request for lucindathemaid. Intentionally this short, complete, and therefore won't be updated or continued in any way shape or form, so please don't ask.
Prompt: Miroku x Sango, 'slow'
Title and beginning lyrics are from the Gino Vannelli song of the same name.
Enjoy!
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Wild Horses
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You can call me a fool
You can call me blind
You can call it quits
Can't hear a word you say
There was music, soft and optimistic, playing from the strange little black boxes Kagome had arrayed on the log.
Miroku didn't understand what 'batteries' meant, or 'electricity' for that matter, but he understood that Kagome had magic none of them did, and did not question this gift. The man beyond the 'speakers' sang wild horses could not drag me away from you, and Miroku understood that well enough to smile and turn away from the magic boxes to the thoroughly unmagical woman kneeling in front of him, close enough for their knees to touch.
Everything she did was on her own strength. Miroku had the shrieking vast nothingness in his palm to fight his battles for him, Kagome had her arrows that turned everything evil they touched into glittering silence, Inuyasha had his sword and his claws and his powerful demon blood. Even Shippou had his silly, clever tricks. Sango had nothing but her slightly magical boomerang and the strength of her own arm, honed over years of harsh training.
Of all of them, she was the strongest, and yet at the same time...
She wasn't looking at him, but at her knees, her fists clenched white-knuckled atop them to stop her fingers from trembling.
The strongest of all of them, but the most vulnerable as well.
Miroku decided... reached out, caught her pale cold fists in his own hands, the void sucking wrathfully at the barrier between it and her. She started, but he didn't give her time to protest or ask any of the questions he knew she had stored up, neatly listed and worn restlessly into the walls of her mind. He simply pulled her in, catching her as she twisted in the air, off-balance, until she landed mostly in his lap with her face within easy reach of his own.
And it was easy, easy as breathing, to cradle that pale, painfully hopeful face in one hand, lean down, and close the circle at long last.
There was so little time, but Miroku would do this one thing slowly if it broke him. She deserved what time he had left to give her, all of it, and he planned to give it to her one moment at a time.
Starting with this one.
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