A/N: Posted this on tumblr, so now I'm posting it here for safe-keeping for anyone else that wanted to read it. I'm almost done with the next chapter of Feudal World, going to try and post sometime today, but I had to get this off my chest after listening to Matt Bomer singing his version of Heaven. It's a quick water-mesh drabble; look at it like a string of words that has no plot, no character development, just words about our favorite OTP.

726 words.

Husband: Inuyasha


Being married to Inuyasha was no walk in the park.

But it was a calling to my soul that I do believe resonated within me since the moment I was born into this world.

He's crass and he's bitter, about most things that takes me too much time to understand.

He's pleasant around good children but tough on the troubled ones.

He's slow to fall asleep but quick to wake and he tracks dirt onto the futon more times to count.

His voice is bored and blasé when asked what he wants to eat and I know he's daydreaming of steaming noodles and styrofoam. Sometimes he doesn't get home until the moon has settled high into the star scattered sky. Sometimes he's not there when I'm blowing disappointed bubbles into the steamy water when he said he'd meet me here for a bath after he finished fixing a problem at the neighboring village with Miroku.

Sometimes he doesn't tell me that he's been torn through the shoulder by a nasty bear demon and I have to go looking for him, only to find him bleeding and lonely on a tree branch, one foot dangling, the other propped into his chest in agitation.

Sometimes he doesn't understand the tone in my voice when I'm asking him to come down, he mistakes it for anger when in reality it's worry.

Sometimes I don't understand the tone in his voice when he's yelling at me to go back home, I mistake it for annoyance when in reality it's concern.

Sometimes we're yelling so loudly that my voice turns hoarse, my tears drawing patterns down my cheeks and his claws are fisting into his hands with such force that it's drawing bloody designs. We lose ourselves in the pool of emotions, the sea-level rising.

But most of the time we find each other again in our apologetic words and gentle touches, a kiss on the brow, a hug in the dark and I smile against the rough material of his fire-rat, the smell of the forest filling my nose so vividly that I'm no longer my own person. I'm just a leaf on his breast. Riding through nature like a quiet breath.

I'm waking up not to the sound of birds, but the gentle caress of his lips on my lobe. I'm having trouble falling asleep some nights, thinking about my family on the other side of the well, and his fingers are there, reaching from the top of my head to the end of my terraces, gently combing out my sadness.

His pink lips are smiling some nights as I tell him tales of my market struggles.

Other nights, his amber eyes are on me, the feeling that I'm all he sees, I'm all he wants, bringing me to my rawest senses. I want, I need, I desire. His stare a portal into the blazing sun that extinguishes me to my core.

I catch him sleeping still some mornings, rare moments so I tend to cherish these. I smooth down his black brows and his face stays in that passive peaceful state, the same way he was the first time I saw him. My eyes tear up some mornings.

I kiss him on my way out the door, he kisses me when he's leaving for the day.

He kisses me with a mouth full of bread after I ask him if the loaf was decent, since it was my first time baking it. I ask him this every single time after.

I learn that we work together better when I quietly wait for him to calm down from a tantrum. I wait for his defenses to go down, his shoulders to slump and that's when I proceed with caution. The waters settled enough for me to tread. My small canoe over the years becomes a strong fast-hold ship that doesn't capsize easily in the wake of his harsh weather.

I swim into his heart with the tenacity of a diver in warm waters as he crashes into mine with the passion of a bird that's just learned to fly.

My name falls from his hard mouth like a plea, the confessions of his heart ripping me like a wind-scar, and I'm holding onto him like a prayer.

We fall apart some days but we always come back together in the end.

Being married to Inuyasha was no feudal fairy-tale.

It was a plunge into the unknown beauty of a world that I have always been destined to adventure.