She stood at the entryway to the kitchen, her hand on the doorjamb as she studied him. Kagome knew of course that he knew she was there, but she wanted a moment of silence to just…look. Somehow, he made even doing dishes look like something that require skill, even though he didn't seem to be putting much effort into it. And he was so silently imposing; she had met very few people in her life who could pull such a thing off. Not even Bokusenou-sama managed that much power, and he was even older than Sesshoumaru. She knew it was this strength, this silent wall between them, that made it hard to approach him and for a moment, Kagome wondered if he was acting so tense around her, because she didn't know how to act around him.
Hesitantly, she entered the large kitchen and hated that hesitance just as much as the old, self-deprecating thoughts that sometimes ran across her mind. "Shippou made you a present," she murmured, setting it down on a clear counter space. "As thanks, for having him over today."
He didn't bother looking back at her as she entered and instead focused on the pan he was scrubbing. "It does not need thanking." Rinsing it off, he set it on the rack with the other clean dishes. "He is your family."
Telling herself it was foolish to take the coldness in his voice personally, she stayed by the counter, still wary to approach him. "Still, you should open it. He worked hard for it. It would mean a great deal to him, if he knew you liked it." Not to mention Shippou would keep asking her about it, and maybe even Sesshoumaru. She couldn't bare the idea of seeing the disappointment on his face if he knew the elder demon hadn't even bothered opening it.
Sesshoumaru sighed, and nodded once. "I will do so tonight, then."
The short answer left her uncertain what to do or say next. Kagome knew that was part of the reason for her own reticence around the demon, because he so often used so few words that there wasn't much for her to say in response. Sighing herself, she padded silently further into the kitchen and went to stand beside him, pulling a rag off the oven rack as she went. "I'll dry," she said quietly, watching his hands move across the pain.
"This one does not require help," he answered shortly, setting the plate to dry with the rest of the dishes.
"But-
"I do not need your assistance," he said again.
He had yet to look her in the eye, or even really acknowledge her presence in any way even remotely polite. For reasons she didn't even entirely understand, that hurt. A lot. Enough so that there was a ball of emotion in her stomach, growing tighter and tighter, feeling like nervous butterflies that almost made her dizzy.
o.O.o
Word Count - 489
