She was a tornado of embarrassment and apologies as she hurried her way back to him. The exit was her instinctive destination, easily foiled by her fluster; flailing frantically to find her footwear - and failing. Her mind was racing, but her thoughts were too fast to catch as she shuffled around for her shoes. She could have sworn she left them right there...
Sesshoumaru didn't appear phased by the display, showing either a lack of interest in her irrational behavior, or perhaps simply accustomed to it. Possibly both.
He was returning his mop to the closet; and she vaguely noticed the sheen on his hardwoods commemorating her soggy entrance into his home.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company." Her search continued as he calmly made his way over. "I shouldn't have-"
"It is of no consequence."
Refusing to make eye contact as he inserted himself in her path; she abandoned her mission and made a sudden beeline for the kitchen table.
"I don't want to impose." She plucked her backpack and shouldered it. "Maybe I can see if my mother-"
"You did not impose." Still shoeless; her efforts were stalled when a firm body blocked access to her rain-sodden sweatshirt, and she was finally forced to crane her neck and regard its owner in full.
For all her trepidation in that moment, his unapologetic serenity seemed so inconceivable. He was impossibly breathtaking, and she continued to gaze simply for the blank it drew her mind in, the clamor it quieted.
She wasn't sure how long she'd indulged when a slight tug alerted her to the fact that she still held the lingerie she'd found in a death grip, making her instantly release it.
"Kagura is a colleague," he explained, reclaiming her pack with his free hand. "We were just getting some work done."
She let him smoothly return her bag to the tabletop without a struggle; and forgot her mortification in an instant, along with her rush to escape.
"Have you changed industries?" Her brows drew facetiously. "What kind of work saw her all sexed up in your bed?"
Fists on hips; it was a bit more accusatory than any unannounced houseguest had the right to be. But he seemed about as concerned with her perception of him as her pending retreat.
"Just working out some tension," he said, lifting his shoulder casually. "It was a stressful day."
'... and then I showed up,' she finished ruefully, 'and interrupted his sliver of repose.'
She drooped a bit as her fear of being a burden was officially validated.
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," he demanded, but her gaze remained downcast.
She wanted to leave. Wanted to leave him to his peace and handle this on her own. Wanted not to need to involve anyone else in her problems, let alone actually do it.
But she remained silent, and still, because she knew she couldn't. Knew that if it wasn't him helping her, it would just have to be someone else.
Her circumstances were closing in as reality she hadn't had time for thumped impatiently at her door, splintering the frame. Panic was settling in her chest, quickening her breath steadily as her heart threatened to keep pace, when a strong grip tilted her chin closer to his. Arresting everything with his anchoring presence.
"I would have told you no if I truly did not want you here," he assured her, voice firm and gentle as his grip. As his eyes. "Do you doubt that?"
He dared her to say yes. Shrouded in confidence; he held her there, forcing her to acknowledge it, accept it, let it engulf her. Make it her own.
Just like his strength. Just like his warmth and comfort.
Just like his calm.
She felt herself relax, kneecapping her distress before it was off and running as if he'd willed it so. By the time he withdrew, she no longer had the urge to look away, or leave.
She was not prepared to analyze herself quite yet, but she knew she didn't want to do this without him. He would make sure she didn't have to.
"Why are you always so nice to me?" Her question was posed above a whisper that was not wanting for gratitude, but richer in sorrowful resignation than he could ever be pleased about.
He frowned, straightening slightly as something resentful flashed in his eyes, tainting them with malice and corrupting the warmth they had just held.
"I feel it is my duty," he said coldly, flipping the nighty over his broad shoulder, "to compensate for the Taisho deficiency you have endured. Now, go take your shower."
They were likely the kindest orders he'd ever given, and still she hesitated; peering down the hall as she worried her lip.
"I don't want to wake up your friend-"
"Colleague," he corrected firmly, and she glared.
"The naked woman in your bed."
Her tone was petulant this time, challenging. And despite appearances, he was pleased.
Her impudent fire was a good sign, and would go unchecked... for now. But he'd be happy to fan the flames once her wounds had soothed, if she still wished to engage him. It was also good therapy.
"I assure you; she will not be disturbed. Come."
He brushed by, gripping her bicep in the process just in case she wouldn't throw him for a loop and obey him. Long, lean fingers encircled the muscle gently, but she wasn't fooled. Though his grip was loose, it was as good as an iron band, so she walked along willingly to avoid being dragged.
She let him usher her back into his room, holding her breath as they passed his occupied bed and wary for any signs of disturbance. Only the soft sounds of contented breathing filled the air as he tossed the lacy garment on his dresser right before pulling her into the bathroom with his ninja stealth.
She watched him close the door soundlessly behind them, then cross purposefully to his shower to fiddle with the knobs. He emerged once he was satisfied, and left it running.
He straightened to level that stoic expression expectantly, only bolstering her curiosity as the silence endured.
"Get out," he finally ordered.
She blinked; parting her lips, but it would take a moment for any sound to form. "... Excuse m-"
"Close the door," he said, gesturing toward the exit. "Tell me what you hear."
Realization dawned, and she slipped back into his room. It was too dark to see his guest without the light from the bathroom aiding her, but plenty quiet enough to detect the even rhythm of her breathing pattern, and the faint snore that accompanied it. She hated how cute it sounded.
When she opened the door again, the calming sound of showerfall was heard once more; and his handsome face bore a mischievous smirk and a matching, mocking brow. She couldn't help but smile as she closed the distance.
"I'll be quiet," she whispered, patting his chest.
"If it pleases you."
An easy contentment settled in as something warm and familiar passed between them. Unexpressed words and emotions both billowed into the air around them like the steam fogging its way up the vanity, and bittersweet couldn't even begin to describe it.
It was a beautiful pain, that such sweet relief can only exist in contrast to the agony it saves you from. Without one, the other could never be known. For as miserable as she was, the thought did give her solace. Almost made her appreciate the pain.
It almost made her ache for it.
Piping hot water continued to spray in the background, but either had yet to move. He didn't seem concerned about his water bill as money rolled down the drain; while the perfect temperature tempted her, boasting the perfect pressure against the wall.
The moisture in the air was starting to gather on his body, giving it a slickened appearance and causing his bangs to curl. Pale skin was growing flushed in the heat, which made it look like he'd overexerted himself somehow, and his thin white shirt was growing damp and clingy.
The mirror was useless by now; but she wondered if she looked like that too, and if the shower was to blame. She could assign it there, nonetheless, as she wondered next if he was waiting for a cue.
Shyly, she averted her eyes and reached for the top button on her blouse, which finally spurred him into action.
"I will find you something to wear."
But he'd only gotten closer when she looked up again; and before she could start on the next button, he was leaning into her.
She stiffened, forgot to breathe as he descended and slipped an arm around her - behind her, where his attention had been throughout his journey, and into the shelf against the wall. She felt the brief, light press of his hard torso against hers, and her body thrilled at the contact.
"And try this." When he pulled his hand back, there was a small plastic bottle inside. He was still leaning close as he held it up between them. "I think you will enjoy it."
His smirk was smug, and self satisfied, and it was hard to tear away from it. But intrigue helped to wrench her eyes away, if only to see what inspired the look he was giving her.
She had to pull the bottle close to see in the steamy room, recognizing it to be to be some sort of skin lotion or another. She'd never heard of it, but one test sniff alone had her eager to try it out. He had all the best products.
He was finally leaving her to her privacy as she called to his retreating form.
"Can I have what you use in your hair?" she asked as he reached for the door.
"Never."
At the resurrection of their little inside joke, she finally managed a smile that reached her eyes. As its rightful target, he indulged himself in it for a long moment more.
"It was worth a shot," she said.
Then thick wafts of hot steam billowed out to his bedroom, and he was well in tow. He moved out the door swiftly to keep as much heat and noise inside as possible, but a burst of cool air made its way sharply up her spine.
All her little hairs prickled when that chill rolled over her skin. And as a shiver tore through her, the last thing she saw was his smug, handsome face peering playfully through the slowly decreasing opening until, with an inaudible click, it was gone.