A/N: Thanks to Katalyst and bakabaka for helping (or in bakabaka's case,
insistently prodding) me out of my writer's block with this chappie!
Merry Christmas, guys!
Added A/N (12/21/02): Edited for stupidly misused pronouns (thank you, Kat, for telling me about 'em!).
Sesshoumaru's POV.
"'Hello,' I Lied"
"Gods have no one to pray to."
~"Small Gods"; Terry Pratchett
"Gah!" I yelp as icy needles of water strike me. I jerk my feet out of the water and glare accusingly at the monk who'd kicked it and splashed me. "It's freezing!"
He laughs again, in that same old low-trick way. "Well, of course," he says in amusement. "Does this look like a hot spring to you, Shou-sama?"
"Oh, shut up." I scowl at him and he laughs again. Damn him. He's making me forget myself again- after all, I'm a youkai lord, not some prissy human brat. How did I even get talked into this? "Hurry up and get undressed," I order, and again, that stupid laugh!
I want to pluck out his eyeballs and pop them between my teeth.
"After you," he chirps, and shoves me in the lake. I literally shriek with the shock- I've never felt such cold in all my life! And yes- again, he laughs at me.
Pop pop, monk. Pop pop.
"Can't take the cold?" Miroku teases. I imagine that I could very easily learn to hate this man.
He smiles at me- low, low trick!- and offers me a hand up. Gods save me, but I resort to the most juvenile means of revenge I ever have in my life.
I take his hand . . . and yank him down into the lake with me. And still, he's laughing despite the cold. I don't think that I have ever met such a happy person before.
"Idiot," I mutter. He smiles at me, and an uncomfortable feeling twists in my stomach. Great, now he's making me sick.
"Don't be such a prude," Miroku tells me, loosening his ponytail but not taking it out fully. For some reason, that annoys me. Then again, so does just about everything about him. True, I'm grateful that he saved me (grudgingly grateful, mind), but that doesn't mean that I have to like him.
For example- he's still fully dressed, and the only thing even pretending to preserve my modesty is the wealth of bandages I wear. Somehow, I think this is unfair, and I'm tempted to voice the sentiment. Then he takes his clothes off anyway, and I gasp.
Miroku is a wreck.
Not meaning that he's somehow unattractive, but that all that blood he's drenched in isn't just that of the youkai he destroyed and mine. Long, angry wounds crisscross his pale skin like crimson lightning in an inverted sky, and my own pain and anger pall at the sight.
He carried me all day like that?
Really?
"Miroku . . . " I begin softly, and he shrugs me off.
"It's nothing," he lies with a smile. "Certainly appears worse than it is."
"Bastard," I hiss, getting up to my knees. "Don't lie to my face."
"Very well," he says agreeably. "Turn about and I'll lie to the back of your head."
I glower at him. "Don't make jokes- how badly are you off?"
His smile wavers slightly. "I'm fine, Shou-sama," he insists.
"No, you're not!" I yell, and grab his shoulders. The faint hiss of pain it brings from him is more than enough proof of his already plain-as-day injuries' seriousness. "Idiot," I say quietly, carefully loosening my grip. "You're only hurting yourself more."
He gives me a long look, and then lays his cursed hand on my cheek. "Do you know," he begins solemnly, "why I wear this glove?"
"No," I immediately lie.
"It is because I am cursed," Miroku tells me, his eternally smiling eyes for once grim. "There is a void in my palm which can devour my enemies, and will, in time, devour me as well. This is why I lie. This is why I do not tell people when I suffer. I haven't enough time in this world to waste it whining."
My stomach is tight again, and the place where his hand holds my face is hot.
"Do you understand?" Miroku asks quietly. He still hasn't moved his hand.
"You're scared," I accuse. For some reason, though, my voice sounds weak. "You don't want to admit your limitations."
Miroku smiles again, and it's bitter this time. "Correct," he says serenely, and I suddenly want to kiss him. Unthinkingly, I lift my own hands to clasp his face and lean down until we are but a breath apart. He just smiles at me and pulls away.
"You're very silly, Shou-sama," he murmurs, leaning in towards me again and nuzzling his face against my neck. I feel his smile, star-hot against my skin.
You know, I think I'd really like that smile, if it weren't always such a lie.
* tbc . . . *
. : review. what, you need a reason? : .
Author's shameless pimp-age of her darling Katalyst: For those of you who wanna kill me for all of the unresolved sexual tension (and I guarantee right now that there's a lot more coming), go read Katalyst's stuff for Sesshoumaru x Miroku that actually includes the "x"! *rawr* You know you want it.
Added A/N (12/21/02): Edited for stupidly misused pronouns (thank you, Kat, for telling me about 'em!).
Sesshoumaru's POV.
"'Hello,' I Lied"
"Gods have no one to pray to."
~"Small Gods"; Terry Pratchett
"Gah!" I yelp as icy needles of water strike me. I jerk my feet out of the water and glare accusingly at the monk who'd kicked it and splashed me. "It's freezing!"
He laughs again, in that same old low-trick way. "Well, of course," he says in amusement. "Does this look like a hot spring to you, Shou-sama?"
"Oh, shut up." I scowl at him and he laughs again. Damn him. He's making me forget myself again- after all, I'm a youkai lord, not some prissy human brat. How did I even get talked into this? "Hurry up and get undressed," I order, and again, that stupid laugh!
I want to pluck out his eyeballs and pop them between my teeth.
"After you," he chirps, and shoves me in the lake. I literally shriek with the shock- I've never felt such cold in all my life! And yes- again, he laughs at me.
Pop pop, monk. Pop pop.
"Can't take the cold?" Miroku teases. I imagine that I could very easily learn to hate this man.
He smiles at me- low, low trick!- and offers me a hand up. Gods save me, but I resort to the most juvenile means of revenge I ever have in my life.
I take his hand . . . and yank him down into the lake with me. And still, he's laughing despite the cold. I don't think that I have ever met such a happy person before.
"Idiot," I mutter. He smiles at me, and an uncomfortable feeling twists in my stomach. Great, now he's making me sick.
"Don't be such a prude," Miroku tells me, loosening his ponytail but not taking it out fully. For some reason, that annoys me. Then again, so does just about everything about him. True, I'm grateful that he saved me (grudgingly grateful, mind), but that doesn't mean that I have to like him.
For example- he's still fully dressed, and the only thing even pretending to preserve my modesty is the wealth of bandages I wear. Somehow, I think this is unfair, and I'm tempted to voice the sentiment. Then he takes his clothes off anyway, and I gasp.
Miroku is a wreck.
Not meaning that he's somehow unattractive, but that all that blood he's drenched in isn't just that of the youkai he destroyed and mine. Long, angry wounds crisscross his pale skin like crimson lightning in an inverted sky, and my own pain and anger pall at the sight.
He carried me all day like that?
Really?
"Miroku . . . " I begin softly, and he shrugs me off.
"It's nothing," he lies with a smile. "Certainly appears worse than it is."
"Bastard," I hiss, getting up to my knees. "Don't lie to my face."
"Very well," he says agreeably. "Turn about and I'll lie to the back of your head."
I glower at him. "Don't make jokes- how badly are you off?"
His smile wavers slightly. "I'm fine, Shou-sama," he insists.
"No, you're not!" I yell, and grab his shoulders. The faint hiss of pain it brings from him is more than enough proof of his already plain-as-day injuries' seriousness. "Idiot," I say quietly, carefully loosening my grip. "You're only hurting yourself more."
He gives me a long look, and then lays his cursed hand on my cheek. "Do you know," he begins solemnly, "why I wear this glove?"
"No," I immediately lie.
"It is because I am cursed," Miroku tells me, his eternally smiling eyes for once grim. "There is a void in my palm which can devour my enemies, and will, in time, devour me as well. This is why I lie. This is why I do not tell people when I suffer. I haven't enough time in this world to waste it whining."
My stomach is tight again, and the place where his hand holds my face is hot.
"Do you understand?" Miroku asks quietly. He still hasn't moved his hand.
"You're scared," I accuse. For some reason, though, my voice sounds weak. "You don't want to admit your limitations."
Miroku smiles again, and it's bitter this time. "Correct," he says serenely, and I suddenly want to kiss him. Unthinkingly, I lift my own hands to clasp his face and lean down until we are but a breath apart. He just smiles at me and pulls away.
"You're very silly, Shou-sama," he murmurs, leaning in towards me again and nuzzling his face against my neck. I feel his smile, star-hot against my skin.
You know, I think I'd really like that smile, if it weren't always such a lie.
* tbc . . . *
. : review. what, you need a reason? : .
Author's shameless pimp-age of her darling Katalyst: For those of you who wanna kill me for all of the unresolved sexual tension (and I guarantee right now that there's a lot more coming), go read Katalyst's stuff for Sesshoumaru x Miroku that actually includes the "x"! *rawr* You know you want it.
