A/N: Rating is T, just in case. This fic contains Miroku, so yeah.
This story is a gift for those crazy people who nominated my stories or the FA. I dunno who you are (I have my suspicions tho) so not pointing fingers at anyone.

Sketches

Miroku was a man who could appreciate art. He himself was skilled with brush, was it to paint or write. He was the one who had taught a lot of drawing tips and rules to Shippou back in the day. Sadly, he hadn't had a chance to teach the boy how to draw more... entertaining pictures because the rest of the group had made it clear that after just one picture he would be met with Tessaiga's sharp edge and other not fun tools of pain and sorrow wielded by the lovely - and deadly in their ire - ladies.

So, Shippou had been stuck drawing dressed women.

Miroku no longer felt regret that the kitsune's blossoming talent was restrained by those, who didn't understand the appeal of this kind of art. From what he gathered during the years following the defeat of Naraku, Shippou ventured on his own adventure of finding his style, depicting various muses he met on the road to greatness.

Who would have thought that the spitfire thunder youkai girl would in a few years after their first meeting be bursting out of Shippou's portrait... quite literally. One would need a really big cloud to obstruct this mountainous bosom. According to Shippou electricity was often sparkling around the peaks of those mountains when the girl was in the mood for a tempest.

Anyway, Miroku was a man who appreciated art. Especially the kind that Shippou was drawing recently and hiding in a tiny cave in fear of his step parents. Only Miroku knew about his cave of treasures, because he was a real art patron.

So, when one day Miroku found out that there was another artist in their little rag-tag family, he was more than surprised. And it was his lovely,pragmatic wife.

They were enjoying the free house, Sango putting away the plates, him looking for paper to write his sutras on. He was going through their chest with writing articles, when a leather package caught his eye. It was Sango's, and it was in there forever, but for some reason it piqued his curiosity just now.

"Sango, may I go through your papers?" he asked his wife. "I'm looking for spare paper..."

"Sure,'" she said, not even looking back from where she was kneeling beside a cabinet, her behind creating an appealing curve They were married for a decade now, but each and every time he saw her like this and from this angle he felt the same spark of wonder.

He wondered if he could reach.

Not the stars, but something even more divine than the celestial lights.

The heavenly posterior of his tempting wife.

He shook his head and dropped this idea. It wasn't wise to pull Sango away from her work in the middle of the day like this. He had to exercise some restraint.

He took the package out of the chest and undid the knot of the string holding the leather wrapped around a stack of papers. Then he laid his eyes on them

Some were recipes, presumably for her powders and potions, usually written in a weird code so to prevent people from learning the youkai exterminator's secrets. There were also schematics for a handful of weapons.

And there were also sketches.

At first he thought they were for yoga maybe, but then he dropped this thought. They were simple in design, but to the point.

"Dear?" h asked after a while of studying her drawings.

"Yes?" Sango asked, closing the cabinet.

"Could we try position thirty six tonight?" he inquired as he gazed up with hope at his wife.

"Thirty six?" Sango asked, resting her hands on her hips and looking at him with a confused frown. He showed her the paper with the pose.

"See? This one here, with the man standing over the kneeling woman, and..." he pointed to the picture excitedly.

"Miroku," Sango said with a barely contained laughter.

"Yes, my heavenly honey-bee?"

"Might I turn your attention to the knife she's holding against his inner thigh where the vein is?" she knelt beside him to put the papers together. "Those are fighting sketches, not some naughty drawings."

"Oh," Miroku gave her a sheepish grin before reaching to embrace her. "But we still could do it, right? I mean without the knife, right?"

"You are hopeless!" Sango laughed, but did nothing to escape his embrace. She leaned in against him a little.

"Is it a yes?"

"If you convince Inuyasha and Kagome to let our kids stay over for the night."

Sango laughed at the sight of her husband running towards the doors ad then put her papers away.

Silly man, she didn't need any drawings to know what she'd like to do today. She had a rope and a soft brush stored away and just waiting for the right night.

Tonight, there would be no battle stances under this roof, there was going to be a captive interrogation.

A/N: So yeah, I have this headcanon that Shippou takes more after Miroku.