AN: This is my very late birthday present to s4ngo! Sorry it took so long, dearest. I hope you guys enjoy! I'm sorry this fic takes me so long to update.

XXXX

"What do you think?"

Sango surveyed the house skeptically. Truth be told, it looked like a dump. The roof was clearly caving in, there was a large hole in the wall, and she doubted that the doorway, revealing broken timber splintered across the living area, was a particularly promising view.

"Er…for what?" She asked and Miroku grinned at her. He'd appeared at Kaede's cabin before breakfast, politely requesting that she go for a walk with him, as he'd something to show her. She'd half-expected something lecherous to come of it, but apparently Miroku had something different in mind.

"For our home," He said grandly and she blinked, hoping he was kidding.

"This—this place?" Sango took a tentative step inside and dodged a piece of timber that fell from the ceiling.

"All right, it's not exactly a castle," Miroku sighed. "Honestly, it looked a lot better when I bought it. There must have been a storm or a demon attack or something recently—or maybe it was hit during the final battle with Naraku."

Sango blinked. "You bought this place? When?"

"A while ago," Miroku clarified, coughing at the dust. "On a particularly optimistic day. Clearly now it needs more work than I thought."

Sango examined some discarded items on the floor—a broken sword, kicked pair of geta, a few dried chicken bones. "I think bandits have been using it as a hideout."

"In my defense," Miroku returned. "We've been a little busy to house-sit."

"Well," Sango felt one of the walls. "I think the foundation is actually rather sturdy. The garden certainly needs work, but more weeding than anything else. It's a nice view." She peered out the window, smiling at the view. Their house partially overlooked the fields, even including a small valley. They were near enough to the village for community, but separate enough to enjoy the solitude.

"It's near Inuyasha's tree, see?" Miroku pointed. "I thought he'd like it if we lived nearby. But of course, we don't have to live here forever."

Sango glanced at him.

"It's up to you," He said seriously. "Where you want to settle down. If you'd like to relocate to the demon slayer's village, we can go there."

Sango exhaled softly. She turned back towards the window, thinking of her former home. In her lowest moments, she missed her village so badly it hurt and a part of her did want to bring it back to its former glory. But no matter how much she yearned for her former life, her village was nothing more than a graveyard now. Perhaps someday they could bring life back to it—but not now.

"No," Sango said decidedly, facing Miroku. "We'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Miroku asked.

She nodded. "Yes. I think…I'd like to forge a new path, rather than reliving an old one. I love you for asking me, but I think it's better if we stay here. We'll have a clean start. Anyway, I'd prefer not to leave Inuyasha alone. I think he needs his friends." She smiled at Miroku, whose eyes had widened.

He was staring at her and she wondered why. Finally, he stepped towards her, lifting her hand and kissing her palm.

"I love you too," Miroku said simply and her stomach flipped. Wait, what? Where did that come from?

"You're blushing, Sango," Miroku noted teasingly, taking her other hand. "I hope this won't be like Mount Hakurei again!"

"Uh—well—" Had she really said she loved him? She couldn't remember and it was all becoming far too distracting for her to think clearly.

"Oh dear," Miroku sighed. "You really don't remember. That's disappointing."

"You're one to talk," Sango retorted, crossing her arms indignantly. "Didn't you once tell me that you couldn't love me as an ordinary woman?"

Miroku glanced at her in surprise. "Well, yes," He stated, as if it were obvious. "I can't love you as an ordinary woman because you're not an ordinary woman. You are…extraordinary."

Naturally, the compliment made her blush harder. She really was hopeless at this sort of thing.

Miroku approached her, something gleaming in his eyes—a gleam that she'd come to recognize. He touched her cheek gently, and Sango tried to remember how to breathe. She closed her eyes as he neared closer.

But before she could enjoy the brush of his lips against hers, there was a loud crack from the ceiling. Without only this warning, a large clump of dead leaves and dirt showered them both.

"Ugh!" Miroku yelped, brushing the wet leaves off him. Sango couldn't help herself and burst out laughing at the state they were in. She doubled over, giggling hysterically that even their future home was intent on keeping their intimacy hampered.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Miroku glared at her but his eyes were sparkling. Sango gulped at the wicked glint in his eye and darted outside of the house, Miroku at her heels.

He tackled her and instinctively, she pinned him onto the ground. She couldn't seem to stop laughing, but nor could he either—and for the first time, it occurred to Sango that marrying him was going to be fun. There was going to be laughter and fun in her life, smiles and playfulness. Miroku's lighthearted nature was going to be a permanent fixture in her life. There would be merriment, rather than discipline. There would be love, rather than pain and tears.

Sango stopped for a brief moment, realizing that Miroku had paused, apparently enjoying the sight of her lying on top of him. Frankly, she rather liked it too, though it was a little embarrassing—but there was no one around. A swell of bravery crashed through her and she bent down, slanting her lips to his.

She had surprised him for only an instant and then he was returning her kiss, his hand cradling her head, fingers combing through her hair. It felt good to kiss him—her lips tingled a little, as she fumbled against him, matching his movements. She was a little grateful that he seemed to know what he was doing and she began to relax against him, a burst of curiosity piquing.

His other hand had begun to trail further downwards, tracing the curve of her behind—but surprisingly, she found she didn't mind as much. It was quite a different matter, she decided, rolling around in the grass in front of their future home, no one to interrupt them.

He was warm and willing against her, and slowly, the kisses became more ardent. His mouth opened against hers and she found herself taking control, exploring the taste of him. He seemed quite content to let her take the lead, which she appreciated.

When fire began to curl in her belly, she broke away from him, trying to catch her breath. "We…should stop," She said breathlessly.

Miroku smiled at her—his hands had not ceased stroking up and down the length of her. "Why?"

For the life of her, Sango couldn't remember. A few long seconds passed until finally, Miroku lifted himself up, brushing one more kiss across her lips.

"They'll wonder where we are," He said, helping her stand. She glanced at him in surprise, a half-smile crooking her lips.

"That's out of character for you, monk," She remarked and Miroku glanced back at her.

"I don't want to push you into anything you're not sure about doing," He stated simply and her cheeks went pink.

"Besides," A wicked grin replaced his honest smile. "It's not very long till our wedding night, you know." He casually walked forward and Sango stared at him, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

XXXX

The village was abuzz with preparations, cooking up delicacies, cleaning, decorating the temple, happily chattering in their excitement. Sango tried to disappear from the hubbub, but it was difficult, considering how many of the villagers wanted her opinion on if the meat was too heavily spiced or if she approved of the colors chosen to decorate the temple.

Rin, although still clearly heartbroken that Sesshomaru had not returned, busied herself too. She picked an assortment of wildflowers which she pressed and dried, to capture the scent.

While clearing out the courtyard, Sango was surprised to see Misao approach her cautiously.

"I have a gift for you," She said hesitantly. "I thought you and your friends could toast to your happiness." She held a small casket filled with four large bottles of sake.

"Oh," Sango blinked in surprised. "Well—we do already have the ceremonial sake, but—"

"No, no," Misao shook her head hastily. "This sake would not be appropriate for a wedding ceremony. This was a gift from a late…admirer of mine. It is…particularly potent. I thought it might spice up the revelries a bit!"

"That's very kind of you, Misao," Sango said earnestly, taking the casket, feeling very pleased that her future mother-in-law had provided a gift for them. "I'm sure we'll all enjoy it tonight—we could use a break after all of this fuss."

Misao quirked an eyebrow. "You are not enjoying yourself?"

Sango smiled in spite of herself. "I suppose I am, in a sense. It's strange that after so many years of sleeping with one eye open, danger at every corner, now the greatest problems in my life are if the flowers gathered will match Miroku and my ceremonial garb. It's different—not a bad difference, just…different."

Her future mother-in-law smiled. "Enjoy it," She said quietly. "Not all of us are as lucky."

"Did you…did you get to have a wedding ceremony?" Sango asked cautiously. She was aware that she may be crossing a boundary, but she felt an obligation to understand Misao. Misao, for all intents and purposes, would be her family.

"There was no wedding ceremony," Misao cleared her throat. "Nor any sort of wedding either." Sango's eyes widened as Miroku's mother stared at the ground.

She raised her head slightly, looking at Sango fully. "I know so very little of my son, though I love him dearly. Tell me—is he an honorable man? Will he stay true to you?"

Sango's throat constricted. Her darkest fear was of Miroku straying from her, losing whatever interest he had in her and bandying about with other women. It was true that since the battle with Naraku, Miroku hadn't expressed much interest in other women—but it was still a part of his personality to be an outrageous flirt. It had taken him a long time to understand the boundaries of a relationship.

Looking at Misao, it seemed Miroku's father had never learned that lesson.

"I trust him," Sango swallowed. "I trust him. I love him and I know he loves me—and I believe in him."

Misao closed her eyes. "I loved his father," Her voice was very tired. "I loved him so. But in the end it didn't make a difference." She touched Sango's shoulder gingerly before walking away.

XXXX

"What is this stuff?" Inuyasha examined a bottle of Misao's sake curiously. They'd spent a long day trying to clean up Miroku and Sango's new house—even Inuyasha had pitched in. By the time the sun had set, they'd cleared a large area of the hut away, swept the dust, and removed the rubbish out of doors. They ate a light dinner of dried meats and rice, until Inuyasha noticed the casket of sake.

"Sake," Sango replied. "Misao gave it to us as a gift."

Miroku appeared wary. "Misao gave you this? Did she say where she got it?"

Sango shrugged. "She said a late admirer of hers. She is beautiful, I suppose it makes sense that a lot of men court her, even at her age."

Inuyasha snorted. "She's not that old," He uncorked the bottle and sniffed deeply. "This doesn't smell like human sake."

Sango blinked. "Well, what else could it be? You're not saying her admirer would be…something not human, are you?"
Miroku shifted uncomfortably. "I…wouldn't put it past her. She's got something of a talent for—charming, I guess you'd call it."

Inuyasha, in his usual thoughtless manner, took a long drink earning cries of protests from the others. He hiccupped slightly, placing the bottle down.

"I was right," He informed them. "Definitely not human sake."

"Pace yourself Inuyasha," Miroku warned.

"What, it's not like I'm gonna get drunk," Inuyasha defended, but Sango noticed the color in his cheeks rising. "Some measly rice wine isn't enough to affect me."

Sango took a sip. Sure enough, the sake was strong, but it went down her throat very smoothly. She felt a little light-headed and the most peculiar tingling sensation reached through her fingers and toes.

"I've never seen you drink," Sango remarked to Inuyasha, who was pouring himself another cup. She grimaced a little at the breach in etiquette and set about pouring Miroku a cup.

"Never felt like it," Inuyasha shrugged. "We might as well. This'll be the last moment of peace we have for a long time. Things'll be different after you're married."

"Not so different," Sango argued. "We'll still all be together. We'll still live here."

"Not all of us," Miroku said quietly and Sango's heart sank. Inuyasha stiffened a little bit. His gaze flickered towards the window, towards the forest where the well was. Kagome's absence was heavily felt and a lump formed in Sango's throat. She should be here, she should help plan her wedding, she should be with Inuyasha…but there would always be a disparity between what should be and what was.

She wanted to ask if Inuyasha missed her, if he wanted to talk about how all of them felt a significant ache when she was gone. But of all of them, Kagome's absence hit Inuyasha the hardest.

"She wouldn't want us to be sad that she's gone," Miroku put in gently. "She'd want us to—be happy, to celebrate. To live a good life."

"Don't talk about her like she's dead," Inuyasha snapped suddenly. "She's not dead. She's alive, she's with her family, she's safe…that's where she needs to be."

"You're right," Sango agreed. "Let's drink to her. Let's drink to Kagome, that's she's happy and safe, wherever she is."

They raised their glasses slightly and each took a sip. The sake packed quite a punch, leaving Sango feeling flushed and giddy. Miroku's calm demeanor remained, but the color had risen in his cheeks and his fingers were twitching. Inuyasha looked morose and gloomy.

"This sake tastes funny," Inuyasha pushed his cup away. "I think I've tasted something like it before…"

Sango snorted, leaning against Miroku. "How do you mean?"

"This tastes and smells weird. I've had something like it before…I can't remember when…" Inuyasha attempted to stand but the ground fell from underneath him. Sango gazed at him with blurred vision.

"Are you drunk, Inuyasha?" Miroku asked curiously. He attempted to stand himself and to his surprise, started wobbling. He placed one hand on the wall for support.

"You're both drunk," Sango observed. "I don't see how—we didn't drink that much! Just this bottle…" She stood as well and her legs began to wobble. The room was spinning and she gasped a little, her stomach flipping as she took a shaky step.

Miroku caught her arm to steady her and glanced at the bottle. "What on earth did we drink?"

Inuyasha snapped his fingers. "That was it. I remember now. The sage that fixed Sango's weapon…his wine urns tasted like this."

Sango's skin felt like it was buzzing. She leaned her weight fully against Miroku before taking another step. Each step made her feel like she was flying and she giggled in spite of herself.

"Easy, there, Sango," Miroku said warningly. "Don't wander off."

"I gotta go," Inuyasha mumbled. "I gotta go…see…" He stumbled out of the cabin and began to run.

"Inuyasha, what are you doing!" Sango cried out giddily. She made to run after him, each step feeling lighter after the other.

She was unable to reach him but the night air filled her nostrils and her exhilaration exploded. She watched a flash of red disappear into the trees and laughed to herself, counting the stars. Dancing a little, she began to follow in Inuyasha's direction when Miroku caught her arm.

"I think you should probably not go anywhere," Miroku smothered a laugh.

Sango gazed at him in admiration. "How is it not affecting you?" She wondered.

"Oh, it is," Miroku assured her. "Which is how I know you need to stay here. I can barely stand, don't go off chasing demons in the woods."

"I wasn't chasing demons," Sango said loftily. "I was chasing Inuyasha. Before he hurt himself. And I feel fine. You worry too much." To prove her point, she took a step forward and immediately slipped on the wet grass. She grabbed her fiancé to steady herself and his arms went around her automatically. She stared up at him, feeling fire light in her veins.

"Let's go inside," Miroku suggested but Sango noticed he didn't move. His fingers were twitching a little, playing with the wrinkles on her kimono.

Sango smiled. Her arms wound around his neck and she kissed him deeply, the taste of sake hazing her senses. Miroku's arms tightened around her, she felt his hand slide down her backside and she laughed into his mouth. He laughed with her for a brief moment, before his lips trailed down her neck. His hands fumbled with her obi, her kimono opening more, giving him access to her collarbone. She inhaled sharply when she felt his teeth touch her clavicle, shuddered when his hot tongue pressed against the pulse of her throat.

Too many clothes, Sango thought impatiently, her hands struggling to touch Miroku, but coming across more cloth. Stupid monk. Her fingers found the edge of his robe, tugging slightly, and they reached bare skin. He groaned a little at her touch and she smiled triumphantly into their kiss.

Her own kimono was sliding down her shoulders but it didn't occur to her to be embarrassed. She felt fearless, impenetrable, insecurities and fears gone—she had nothing to focus on but Miroku. Her monk. Her husband…

As if reading her thoughts, Miroku gently pushed her away. He was breathing hard, color high on his cheeks, pressing little sipping kisses to her lips.

"Let's go back to the village," He said between each kiss. "We have a lot to do tomorrow. The first of which will probably involve finding a hungover Inuyasha in the middle of the forest."

"I don't want to go back to the village," Sango murmured against his lips. "I want to stay here with you."

Her fiancé looked truly torn. His eyes flickered to their place of relative solitude, on the outskirts of the village, where no one would hear or spy on them. He looked at her, kimono sliding down her shoulders, face flushed, hair untidy and wanton.

"No," Miroku said finally. "We should…not." The words seemed to choke him slightly.

"Why?" Her voice was tinged with the barest hint of a whine.

"Because," He stroked her hair, wincing at his own words. "Because I want…you and I…to be official. Forever. On our wedding night. Not drunk on a hilltop, no matter how tempting…"

Sango had fallen asleep. Miroku exhaled, something between relief and annoyance. He wouldn't have been able to hold out for much longer.

He lifted her up, holding her princess style, and gently carried her into their future house. There was a soft pallet on the ground and some warm blankets, so he gently tucked her in. Leaning against the wall of the little house, Miroku sighed again, letting his hand trace the curve of her face.

Not long, he thought to himself. Not long to wait.

After all, with Naraku gone, they had time for this. They had time for everything.