A/N – get your toothbrush out, because there's some sugary sweetness coming your way…
And it's the devil I love/ And it's as funny as real love/ And that's as real as true love
Neko Case - Hold On, Hold On
"Come on, Lord Sesshomaru! If you don't catch up you might get lost!"
The sun beats down on them both as they traverse the meadows beyond the village. The day is hot already, promising an even hotter summer to come, but the humidity hints at the possibility of future storms. Rin wipes a hand across her forehead and steadies the basket under her arm, her eyes scanning the ground. A stray sprig of sophora pokes out from between the long grasses, and she swoops down and tugs it by the roots, adding it to the growing pile in the basket. There would be no leisurely tea parties in Inuyasha's Forest today, at least not if they didn't hurry. Supplies were too low to put off collection any longer. The list was daunting, but she had been making short work of it. Between instruction from Kaede and Jinenji she has become skilled at hunting down herbs and medicinal plants.
The demon lord appears at her side moments later, frowning. "I do not get lost."
She laughs, thinking this may not be entirely true. In retrospect, she can't help but wonder just how purposeful some of their travels had been all those years ago, and if they hadn't been walking in circles at least once. At the time, she would have never thought to question it. She had always just trusted that he would lead the way.
"Of course not. Maybe I'm just worried that I'll get lost instead."
He considers this. "You did have a penchant for disappearing unexpectedly."
Her free hand finds her hip, but she smiles. "Hey! Most of the time it wasn't my fault! I kept getting kidnapped." A memory of lulling flutes and angry monks flashes in her mind. Her stance softens and her eyes slide to the ground, smiling softly. "It didn't matter though. You always came back for me."
He sticks his nose in the air. "My tracking skills are excellent."
She sighs. This is not what she means, and she is certain that he knows it- how much more obvious can she be? Since his last visit two months ago, she has been trying to figure out just how to ask him about – how had Inuyasha put it? – his intentions. Before, she had been content to wait and simply look forward to his visits, but since then the question has wormed its way inside her heart. It wasn't so easy now to chalk up his infrequent visits and swift departures to pressing obligations elsewhere. After all, Lord Sesshomaru is the type of demon who gets what he wants, when he wants it. No one opposes him, and nothing stands in his way when he is on a mission. If he had wanted her to join him, he would have said something by now.
Which begs the question: why hadn't he? Is she really just an obligation, a ward to protect? She had thought that she was special, that he cared for her in his own way. She had wracked her brain for two months to determine what might be keeping them apart, and with great reluctance she acknowledged that there was at least one major barrier that might give him pause.
She is human.
As a child, this difference never struck her as problematic. Their backgrounds or heritage didn't matter, because Lord Sesshomaru was her… well, friend wasn't the right word, exactly. Nor was he her father, or her brother, or her guard. He just was. The label wasn't as important as the fact that they mattered to each other. She could read the subtle changes in his expression better than even Jaken, and he seemed to sense her needs, even if he didn't always cater to them. She knew how different they were, but she never gave it a second thought.
Now, however, her powers of observation are failing her. She suddenly isn't sure if he is shutting her out or worse, that had never really been able to read him at all. Perhaps she had just been projecting what she had wanted to see on the blank canvas he provided.
And what a canvas it is. He is nothing short of perfect; ageless, pristine, and ethereal. Brushing her own coarse hair in the mornings only reminds her of the silken quality of his; donning the beautiful clothing he gives her only reminds her that it is meant to be worn by beings with grace and soft hands. Suddenly the differences between them that had once faded into the background are taking center stage, unbearably vivid and blaringly loud.
She is human, and he is not. It's as simple and as complicated as that. And while he might have incrementally softened his stance on humans over the years, that doesn't mean that he will ever consider her. Not in the way that she considers him, anyway. There is still the chance that there are pieces to the puzzle that she doesn't know, and that he is waiting to invite her along once the time is right. But even if he does, it may never be the way she wants it. Inuyasha's words bubble up in her mind: you know it's only a matter of time… She wonders if she is setting herself up for heartbreak. She wonders if it's already started, and that she's just in denial.
His most recent gift certainly doesn't help. Instead of clothing, he had brought her a prized scroll on medicinal herbs that had been in his family for centuries. It is a handsome gift indeed, but she can't help but wonder about the intention behind it. Is he trying to tell her that he wants her to stay in the village? Not that this is a terrible option; she would have a good life surrounded by people who love and care for her. But it is far from her first choice.
And that is exactly the crux of the problem. Rin is well aware of her own preferences, but she is far less certain of her options.
The question itches at the back of her mind, and it's casting a pall over his visit, making it harder for her to enjoy their time together. She's been fishing around the topic all day, casting out flattering hints delivered beneath shy lashes, but he never takes the bait. Part of her wants to just blurt it out. The other part is terrified of the answer, and it is this part that wins out. She smiles weakly. "Well, there's no need to use your tracking skills anymore. You always know exactly where to find me."
"Hn."
Inwardly she groans. Subtlety really wasn't his forte; hinting around at things would probably never get her the answers she wants, and yet she can't bring herself to put her fears into words. Not knowing is slowly driving her mad, but knowing might be worse. She sighs and hitches the basket higher on her hip and starts to step away feeling defeated. "Well, come on, we still have more herbs to collect or Lady Kaede will be upset."
"Wait."
She turns. "What's wrong?"
His eyes are fixed just above hers, and his look is imperious. "You are dirty."
She flinches as though he had struck her. Dirty? Her shoulders droop and she thinks, this is it, this is the truth I've been avoiding, this is where he tells me that I'm just a dirty human and this is his last visit and he's not coming back and why did I think he would ever -
He points to his forehead, fingers shadowing the crescent moon on his brow. "Here."
She blinks. Her hand comes up and she rubs her fingers across her own forehead, and they come away specked with dirt. Then it dawns on her, bright and clear, and she feels ridiculous: I've been pulling up plants all afternoon. And I've been using my hands to wipe away sweat.
Relief floods her veins until a second thought occurs to her, one that makes her want to crawl in the Bone Eater's Well and hide there for the rest of her natural life. I've been trying to endear myself to the Lord of the West with dirt all over my face. Inwardly she shrinks but outwardly she laughs and scrubs at her forehead with the back of her sleeve.
"Better?"
The corners of his mouth turn down. "Worse."
A quick glance at her sleeve tells her that her hands aren't the only things that are dirty. The well is looking more and more attractive, though at this moment she feels she might just die of humiliation on the spot. She can feel her face flaming as she looks frantically for a clean spot on her kimono.
Cool fingers make contact with her forehead and she stills. Gently but methodically he brushes the backs of his fingers against her skin, his claws tucked into his palm. She closes her eyes to keep out the dirt. When his hand withdraws she mourns the loss of contact and waits a heartbeat to open her eyes, just in case. When she does he is watching her.
She tries to find her voice. "Better now?"
He nods, but he is still frowning. "Yes. But your skin is hot. Are you well?"
She is simultaneously thrilled by his concern and dumbstruck by his obliviousness. "I'm fine!" she chokes out. "I'm sure it's just from being out in the sun for so long. Let's hurry and finish up here so we can both relax!" With that she turns on her heel and heads father into the meadow, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. If she couldn't get control over her traitorous heart after just an innocent touch, she was doomed when they inevitably parted ways.
He trails behind her as they head away from the village toward the last stop: the forest to the east. Unlike Inuyasha's Forest, this one is crowded, wilder. Villagers have long avoided it for the rumors of malevolent demons and spirits that inhabit it, but she has never been afraid. Travelling with a malevolent demon throughout her childhood might have something to do with it. She has braved the forest alone plenty of times without incident, but today she isn't alone. Lord Sesshomaru is more threatening any other predator they might encounter, and he is no threat to her. Not a physical one, at least. He is certainly a threat to her sanity.
She distracts herself from her current predicament by mentally ticking off the final items on her list. As they enter the forest, the trees are thick and block out the direct sunlight above, giving them a respite from the heat. The steady buzz of cicadas permeates the forest as she picks her way among the trees, plucking mushrooms and tender ferns that thrive in the damp shade. Kudzu grows in abundance here, and she gathers the roots and leaves into her basket. A tired path winds through the bushes and trees, but as they travel deeper it thins or disappears altogether in places where the forest has long since encroached upon it. Not that it matters; despite what she told Lord Sesshomaru earlier she was at no risk of getting lost. She has scoured this forest a hundred times and is familiar with each curve of the path and even the secrets that lay beyond.
The secrets beyond. She hadn't planned to make any unscheduled stops today; it had been her intention to complete the chore for Kaede as soon as possible so that they could return to the village in time for tea. But the heart of the forest seems to call to her and she finds she can't resist.
She veers left off of the path, pushing her way through hanging vines and scratching tree limbs. From behind her she can hear his voice, tinted with concern.
"Rin!"
She calls over her shoulder. "Follow me, Lord Sesshomaru! I want to show you something!"
She can hear rustling behind her as he follows at a distance. It isn't long before she finds what she is looking for. Dense foliage opens up to reveal a wide clearing, a rare bright spot at the center of the forest where trees were downed years ago by storms or time. The jagged remains of a few old stumps and two felled trees crisscross the space, but only the barest patches of old bark can be seen peeking out against the force of nature that has exploded in their absence. Blooming vines curl around the old stumps and trunks, competing with lichen and clusters of mushrooms. Grasses and wildflowers as tall as her knees blanket the forest floor. Winged insects flit about, flirting with fragrant blooms.
The sight of it takes her breath away. She doesn't have the chance to visit often, but it is one of the few places in her life where she is guaranteed an instant sense of peace. Stepping across the threshold is like entering a place where time stands still and all her troubles melt away. She pities the villagers for missing out on such magnificence out of fear. As she watches, a breeze catches the stalks and the flowers seem to wave and bow in greeting.
Rin places her basket in the shade at the edge of the clearing on a soft bed of moss. She skips ahead, opening her arms and spinning in the sunshine. This is exactly what she needed today. She can't help but be happy here.
"Look, Lord Sesshomaru!" She hugs her arms. "Isn't it… beautiful?"
And it is. He is.
He's seated himself on one of the old tree trunks, an arm draped casually over a hitched knee. In the golden light of afternoon, surrounded by wildflowers, he strikes a bold, luminescent silhouette. In an instant all of the embarrassment and doubt and opinions from others fall away and she knows: this is right. The space, which had seemed so perfect before, now seems complete in a way that she hadn't thought possible. He belongs here with her, she is sure of it. But even if they never come here again, and even if it isn't meant to be, nothing will ever take this moment away from her. It is hers. And so is he, even if he never acknowledges it.
Her heart flutters in her chest and her head feels light. She is drawn toward him, inspired by this place and this moment. It occurs to her that she has been caught up with trying to figure out how to talk to a laconic demon about what she wants, when she could just show him instead. An idea forms and she acts on it before she can think twice.
She can feel him watching her, wants him to watch her, as her feet pull her in his direction. Along the way she stoops to gather bright golden blossoms in her hands, the same shade she knows his eyes would be if she risked a glance at him. She picks her way toward him, adding a few more choice stems as she goes.
She finds her voice, and it comes out softer than she means it. "This is my favorite place," she says, focusing on her task, each step taking her closer and closer to where he sits. "It's just so vibrant this time of year. It's like something out of a fairy tale."
Another step. And another. The white of his hakama practically glows in her peripheral vision. "I don't think anyone else comes here. Or at least I hope they don't. I like to think it's my little secret."
One more step. There. She stands before him and looks him in the eyes, which are watching her curiously. "Now it's our secret."
He holds her gaze and she wills herself not to look away. For a long moment the world shrinks to just the two of them, the space between them electric and warm. The feelings she has for him are too big to contain; they leak out and cause the corners of her mouth to curve upward. He has to feel it too. He has to. She hopes he will smile back. Just a little. Just this once.
Instead his eyes skip away and focus on the flowers in her hands. "Are those for the medicine you make?"
She is not to be deterred. She shakes her head and holds them out to him, smile unwavering. "No, they're for you."
Thin eyebrows tick upward. "For me?"
"Yes. You're always bringing me such wonderful gifts; it's only fair that I return the favor."
Seconds tick by and he doesn't move. A voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Kaede says he will reject them. He will reject you. But the voice is quieter than it has been in weeks past. Perhaps it's the magic of the place, perhaps she is enchanted by the beauty that surrounds her and the spark of the moment, but right now his response is arbitrary. She won't regret her actions, and she won't regret her feelings for him, no matter what the consequences.
These thoughts don't stop her from releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding when he reaches out and takes them from her. He turns them in his hand, an inscrutable look on his face.
"It has been years since you presented me with flowers." His voice is distant, contemplative. She knows he can't help but be reminded of all the times she brought him pretty blooms as a child, laughing and skipping along on their travels. He's right, it has been years. But she's not a little girl anymore.
He spares her a glance before returning his attention to the blooms, the claws on his free hand trailing lightly over the delicate petals. With quick, precise movements he plucks one from the bunch and gently sets the remainder on the stump beside him. He examines the solitary flower with a critical eye as he spins it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. To her surprise, claws flash and leaves flutter and fall away from the stem.
Whatever response she was expecting, this isn't it. Though she told herself that his response was arbitrary, part of her wonders if she should feel at least a little offended that he is mutilating her gift right in front of her.
When the stem is bare he unfolds himself from the stump and gracefully rises to his feet. She might be taller now than she was in her youth, but even now he towers over her. The space between them is so brief that if she took one small step forward their toes would touch. She has to tilt her chin back to meet his gaze. At this proximity, she can count the lashes that frame his vivid eyes, which have taken on an uncharacteristic softness.
Slowly, he reaches out and brushes the hair away from one side of her face, pushing it behind her ear and over her shoulder. She holds her breath. There really is magic in this place, and it seems that he, too, has been caught in its spell. Her mind sprints ahead as she imagines a thousand and one things that might happen next, and she wants them all. When his fingers brush the tip of her ear it's suddenly too much; her eyes fall closed and the air in her lungs escapes. She's an expert at waiting, but perhaps her waiting has finally come to an end.
Something scratches lightly along her cheek and then threads through the hair at her temple. Soft petals settle against her skin and the weight of a stem hangs behind her ear. With her eyes closed the scent of the blossom is all the more intense. She can feel him adjust it slightly, arranging it to his liking. He seems satisfied and yet his hand lingers.
"Rin." His voice is as soft as the petals at her cheek, as smooth as his hair in her hands all those months ago. Carefully she opens her eyes.
His face is closer than she remembers and her whole world narrows to the points of light reflected in his eyes. As the back of a finger ghosts against the underside of her chin the thousand and one things she had imagined narrows down to a single, breathtaking, impossible certainty.
The world dims and for an instant she thinks that the universe must hate her, that she is fainting in the middle of the most exciting moment of her young adult life. But when his head snaps up and surveys the sky she realizes that only one of her hypotheses is confirmed.
She isn't fainting. But the universe does hate her.
She looks up and for the first time notices the clouds that are rolling in, blocking out the afternoon sun. The thick forest has insulated them from any signs of its approach, but now that her gaze is directed upward she can see the tops of the trees whipping in the wind. The promise of a storm had held true and they are miles from the village.
He looks back at her and the light has faded from his eyes as well. The moment is broken. She resists the urge to cry.
"Rin. Get your things. We're leaving."
"Yes, my lord." She retrieves her basket and when she turns he has disappeared. Suddenly the space seems incomplete without him, eerie in the unnaturally fading light. Her voice comes out softer than she means it.
"Lord Sesshomaru?"
A flash of white and silver drops down from the tree tops. She jumps in surprise.
His voice is matter-of-fact. "There is a storm coming from the south. It is not safe for you here."
She nods. "Okay, we'd better get going then. I know a shortcut – "
"No. That will be too slow. Come." He opens an arm in invitation.
Her heart leaps into her throat. This hasn't been included in the thousand and one possibilities, but it's certainly not an unwelcome addition to the list. She swallows the giddy giggle that threatens to rise at the prospect.
She steps toward him but then hesitates. He hasn't carried her since she was small, and she isn't sure what the logistics are supposed to be. Should she crawl on his back like she had seen Kagome do with Inuyasha?
"Um, how should I – "
He doesn't answer. Instead he strides forward and she represses a squeak as he scoops her up in one arm, his hand secured under one thigh as he hugs her to his chest. Her face is half-buried in the pelt on his shoulder and with her limited vision she casts a wary eye at his armored chest, adjusting so she doesn't come into contact with the spikes there. She has no idea what to do with her hands, so she hugs the basket to her chest. She jolts when he springs into the air, mindful not to drop the herbs they had spent all afternoon collecting.
They sail above the trees and in the distance she can see the meadow they had been in earlier that day, though it seems like a hundred years ago. Did all of that really happen? It seems impossible, and now she knows that it would also be impossible to forget. Her mind is already cataloguing the details, committing the things that happened to memory, as well as editing them to include things that didn't. Things that almost happened. Things that should have happened. She curses the weather and her lousy luck.
She glances at Lord Sesshomaru, trying to gauge what he might be thinking in the aftermath of the afternoon, but his attention is fixed on the horizon. At this altitude, the wind howls around them and the scent of static and rain permeates her senses. She tries to look behind them, curious to see the storm that is now the object of her disdain, but she just gets a mouthful of fur for her trouble. It doesn't really matter, she supposes. She might be frustrated by almosts and maybes, but right now she is cradled in his arms, so she can't exactly complain. Instead of curing her bad luck, she focuses on the feeling of his hand on her thigh and the heat of his body against hers. She tucks down against him and closes her eyes, allowing herself a small smile.
The flight is all too brief and she can feel their quick descent. He touches down with grace and steadies her as he carefully lowers her to the ground. As soon as she is standing he steps back. There is an emptiness in his absence that she thinks she will feels for days to come.
She casts a glance over her shoulder and sees now what he saw before they left. Purple and gray thunderheads loom heavy in the distance, rolling in thick and fast with the bracing winds. To the south the land is cloaked in premature dusk and bright muffled flashes dance inside the clouds. Tree limbs bow and shake their leaves. She covers the basket in her arms with one arm to protect its contents.
"I see why you wanted us to hurry, Lord Sesshomaru."
His hair whips around him as he studies the skies. "Yes. You must seek shelter."
They mount the stairs under the torii gate and veer to the left. The rain starts pattering against the roof tops just as she pulls back the door mat, ushering him inside.
The hut is dark. No candles are burning and the fire pit is cold. Dim gray light seeps in from a window in an adjoining room and from around the door frame, casting most of the room in shadow.
"Lady Kaede?"
No answer. Rin didn't think to ask what Kaede's plans were for the day, but it is unlike her to be gone in the afternoon. She sends a quick prayer to the spirits for her safety. She surveys the room and her eyes fall on her companion, his eyes bright in the dark. And then it hits her.
She is alone. In the house. With Lord Sesshomaru.
Not that they've never been alone together. They're alone together all the time; they were alone together all afternoon. First in the fields, then in the meadow, and then in the forest…
Her heartbeat quickens at the thought. He is still watching her from the shadows. The room feels smaller, warmer than it should, and the rain on the roof is impossibly loud.
"Well!" She claps her hands together. "I should get a fire going. It looks like we might be in for a long night." Her mind spins at the choice of words. She quickly turns and sees the firewood pile has not been replenished, another of her chores that she had put off to spend time with Lord Sesshomaru. She groans.
"There's firewood in the shed. I'll just be a minute – "
"I will go." He strides back toward the door.
"Oh no, my lord, you don't have to – "
"Wait here."
He ducks under the mat and she stares after him for a moment, stunned that he would even know where to look. While she waits she gathers kindling and a box of matches. Outside the rain howls and the rain beats against the roof. Lightning cracks through the air and she can hear the sound of splintering wood. No doubt there would be downed trees and debris to clean up by morning. As the storm intensifies, she starts to worry. It's taking longer than it should; maybe he doesn't know where to look. She is about to peek her head out the door to check on him when he reappears, arms full of enough firewood to last for days. He probably doesn't know it, but he's saved her more than a few splinters.
He arranges a few pieces in the fire pit and piles the rest in the corner. "The shed will require a new latch." He dusts his hands off. "And a new door."
Maybe that wasn't a fallen tree she had heard. She cringes; Lady Kaede would not be happy. "Oh. Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. The important thing is that we have firewood! Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru!" She sends him a smile as she arranges the kindling and strikes a match, stoking the flames until the first of the logs catch. She strikes another and adds it to the other side.
"You have learned some magic, I see."
"What?" The comment throws her. Despite Kaede's suggestions, Rin's training had focused only on healing and medicine. Unlike Kagome and Kaede, she had no significant talents as a priestess, nor did she want them. Learning to purify demons was not something she desired. She gives Lord Sesshomaru a confused look, and in the dim light she can see him gesture between the fire and her hands.
Understanding dawns. "Oh! No. These are called matches. Kagome brings them from her time; she says that there are some 'modern conveniences' that she refuses to live without." She shakes open the box and picks one out. "See? You scratch this tip along the edge of the box and the friction produces the flame. You don't have to use the box though; Kagome showed me how to do it with my thumbnail like this." She flicks her nail against the match head and it bursts into flame. "Would you like to try?"
He takes the proffered box and gingerly removes a match. He inspects it, sniffing delicately and recoiling with the slightest curl of his lip. He holds it as demonstrated and flicks his thumb.
The match is immediately decapitated.
A bark of laughter escapes from her lips and he scowls. Killing Perfection, indeed. She raises a hand to cover her smile. "I'm sorry, my lord. I guess they just aren't designed to withstand demon claws. Here, try the box."
When the match lights successfully this time he seems satisfied. He tosses it into the fire and hands her back the box. She puts them away and settles across the fire from him. Silence stretches out, and there is an awkwardness to it that had never been there before, as though the afternoons events had sucked out all of the innocence and easiness. Her mind can't help but return to the forest, to shafts of afternoon light and golden eyes and his hand in her hair –
Now was not the time for such thoughts. But she can't help it. She wishes she knew what he was thinking. She wishes she knew if she would ever have that chance again. In the battle between wanting to think about it and desperately trying not to, there is no space for idle conversation. For the second time in as many visits, Rin has no idea what to say.
The fire blooms, bringing more light into the room. She picks at the sleeve of her kimono, trying not to fidget, her eyes everywhere but him. Looking at him will only make it worse. She is certain that right now he is bathed in soft golden firelight, his hair gleaming like burnished copper and his strong features caught in stark relief in the shadows. And then she will remember that they are all alone in this tiny room, caught in a fierce storm, no possibility of interruption –
She can't help it.
She looks.
And gasps.
His brow furrows. "What is it?"
She hadn't noticed before in the dim light of the cottage, but now she isn't sure how she could have missed it. "Lord Sesshomaru! You're soaked!"
He is. The airy fabric of his kosode is now heavy with water, clinging to his upper body. The fur at his shoulder looks matted and sodden. His bangs are plastered to his forehead, obscuring the moon on his brow. The rest of his hair hangs in limps ropes down his back.
He lifts a sopping sleeve and eyes it casually before letting it fall back into his lap. He shrugs. "I was in the rain."
Concern edges into her voice. "You must change, my lord! You'll catch cold if you stay in those clothes."
He gives her a flat look. "I am not susceptible to human illnesses. Water cannot harm me."
She almost rolls her eyes at her own stupidity. Of course he isn't. "Still, we should do something about your armor. The leather might shrink and the metal will rust."
He doesn't respond right away, as though he is considering a matter far more important than potential damage to his belongings. When he blinks his eyes remain shut for a fraction longer than they should. "Very well."
He stands and shrugs off the fur at his shoulder, leaving it in a pile on the floor. His hands find the obi at his waist and he carefully begins pulling on the ends to loosen the intricate knots. Something about the action makes her mouth go dry. "I – I'll just go get a towel." She glances at the length of his hair. "Or three."
When she returns he is working on the buckles of the cuirass. She quickly goes to work sopping up the droplets of water that have condensed on his pelt. The busier she keeps her hands, the less she will be tempted to watch him undress.
Because that's what's happening. Right here, right now, in an empty hut in the middle of a storm, Lord Sesshomaru is undressing. Much like her suggestion in the forest that she help him untangle a knot, she hadn't thought through the consequences of her words until after they escaped her lips. Not that she was sorry. While this might have been included in the thousand and one things, never in her wildest dreams did she ever think it would be a reality. Her luck might not be so bad after all.
The cuirass and attached leather plates dangle in her peripheral vision for an instant before he lays them flat on the ground. She wipes the towel down the length of it before concentrating her efforts, applying pressure to squeeze any remaining water out. It is thick and supple under her hands, and this close she can see that despite its age it is in excellent condition. It's no surprise; few if any could get close enough to damage it.
It occurs to her that this is something that Jaken must do, though she had never seen him do it. There is a pang in her heart at the thought of relegating herself to the role of a servant, but it evaporates when he settles across from her and reaches for a towel, joining her in the work. Even if this was normally Jaken's job, she is positive that this was not something they normally did together.
Thunder cracks outside and she jumps.
"Does the storm frighten you?"
She has studiously avoided looking at him since she recommended that he take better care of his armor, but when he addresses her habit overrides her nerves and she looks up. While he continues to work, her hand stills. It is so odd to see him like this, dressed simply in only white and red. The fur and the armor he always wears add bulk to his frame, but he is far from fragile without it. Unencumbered, she is free to admire the strong, broad shoulders that have been honed from centuries of fighting and the trim cinch of his waist. A wicked, greedy part of her brain whispers that she should offer him a dry kosode to change into, but she quickly shoves it away and ducks her head to hide her blush.
"No. It just startled me, that's all."
When the task is done, she takes their wet towels and sets them aside before reaching for a fresh one. She holds it out to him. "Would you care to dry your hair, my lord?"
He uses the towel to ruffle his bangs and then smooths the damp locks with his fingers so that they lay right. He reaches behind him and gathers the thick mass of hair into one thick rope. Methodically, he squeezes out the excess moisture, starting at the base of his neck and moving down. Rin finds herself mesmerized by this simple act, and she can't help but think about the upkeep involved in having that much hair. How did he ever manage it when he had one arm? Bathing must have been tiresome.
It is a mistake to think about bathing and Lord Sesshomaru. Unbidden, she imagines him sitting waist deep in a hot spring, silver hair snaking on the surface of the water, water droplets catching and sparkling in his lashes as he carefully pours water over his head. It streams in rivulets down his chest, a single, stubborn drop clinging to his bottom lip, and –
"Rin."
She startles. He is holding out the towel in one hand, and lazily dragging the claws of the other through damp locks, a sleepy look on his face as he gazes into the fire.
The words are out of her mouth before she can think about them or regret them. "Would you like my comb, Lord Sesshomaru?"
His eyes slide her way and she feels he can see right through her, and those eyes that hadn't frightened her ever before – not when they were sharp with vengeance or bleeding red with rage – take on a predatory gleam. But she still isn't frightened. Far from it.
He blinks and the indifferent mask descends back into place. He shrugs and returns his gaze to the fire.
She rockets to her feet and sprints to her room, eager to escape for a moment. When she is safely out of sight she drops to her knees and digs through her things for her comb. What was that look? Did she imagine it? Surely it was just a trick of the light. Either way, it sent her heart racing. After a few deep breaths to regain her composure, she makes her way back to the front room.
Rin crouches down next to him and holds out the comb. "Here you are."
His gaze drops to the comb, but he doesn't take it. Instead, he looks back up at her and holds her gaze for just a moment before turning his back on her.
For a split second she is confused. Then realization washes over her in a wave.
It's a request.
He isn't humoring her or going along with her silly suggestions. He's inviting her closeness, her touch. Something warm spreads throughout her chest as she kneels behind him, settling back on her heels.
Unfortunately, the scene before her is unlike the one she was faced with months ago in the woods. The storm took its toll and he really is a mess. The cascade is more like jagged straw, damp strands clumped together. She has her work cut out for her.
May as well start at the beginning. The edges are the messiest, and she focuses her efforts there first. It takes more time than she thinks, picking through little tangles at the ends. Outside the storm continues to rage, sending torrents of rain against the walls of the hut. Rin hums to herself to smother the noise.
Once the tips of his hair are gleaming she moves to the mass off hair that falls down his back. The only way to tackle it is piece by piece. She selects a small handful and holds it away from him as she works the minor tangles apart with her fingers and then details the rest with the comb. As she works, it occurs to her that his armor is not here to serve as a barrier this time. When she is satisfied with the first section, she replaces it and runs the comb straight down his back, making light contact. He doesn't respond, and in a fit of boldness she smooths the section one final time with the flat of her hand. At first contact his spine jolts just the slightest bit before relaxing again. She holds her breath, waiting for him to chastise her, but he says nothing. She takes this as acceptance and continues her work with a small smile.
She gets into the rhythm of the work. As she gains confidence in her approach her pace increases, tackling larger and larger sections, but always taking time to smooth down the finished piece with her hand. After the first time he no longer flinches at her touch. If last visit's 'grooming' had been unprecedented, it was nothing compared to today's events. Though she is still sore about the interruption in the forest, she also is begrudgingly thankful for the storm. Without it, she wouldn't be in this position now. The universe clearly worked in mysterious ways.
Lost in her thoughts, she underestimates the size of one tangle and accidentally snags it in the tines of the comb, yanking on his head.
She cringes. "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"
He huffs. "Hardly."
She continues with a little more caution, and after a time the main mass of his hair is shining and smooth. And now she is at an impasse.
She eyes the hair that brushes against the thin skin at his neck but she hesitates to reach for it. Like everything else today, this is uncharted territory. He may have initiated this, but that didn't mean she was free to take any liberties with him that she wanted. The boundaries between them seemed to be blurring, and it was simultaneously exhilarating and unbalancing. She almost laughs as she thinks that this dilemma is much like the greater one she faces: she knows what she wants, she is just waiting for permission to proceed.
And she knows he can't read her mind, not really, but he seems to sense her reluctance and grants her the words she wants to hear: "Finish, if you like."
With trembling hands she raises on her knees to drag the comb through the hair at his shoulders, and then at the base of his neck. She gathers thick locks and shies them away from the pale skin at the place where his neck curves gently into his shoulder. She winds the strands around her fingers and lets them twist around her wrist, watching the damp locks turn to mercury under her ministrations.
When the teeth of the comb find his scalp his shoulders tense incrementally for just an instant before falling. When he seems accustomed to this she takes a risk, running her fingers through the hair at his scalp. His breath hitches, the sound so soft she thinks she must have imagined it. It is killing her not to be able to see his reaction. He may be difficult or even impossible to read at the best of times, but not being able to gauge the flickers of emotion that sometimes pass his face as she pushes these boundaries is too much. Shifting her weight to the right, she leans around just slightly to try to glimpse his expression.
He is distant as always, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. This close, she can study the splashes of color that line his eyelids and the varying shades of copper and gold that rim his eyes. From what she can tell, his expression is calm, composed, relaxed. There is nothing to indicate discomfort or distaste as she absentmindedly continues to stroke his hair, and for that she is grateful. She is about to lean back, but her eyes dart down and she notices that his hands are fisted tightly on the tops of his knees, his knuckles white. The disparity is curious, and she leans just a little further to get a closer look –
Her fingers graze his ear and his eyes flutter for just an instant before snapping to hers. The movement startles her and her balance shifts; she automatically grips his shoulders to steady herself. A long, tense moment passes as he stares at her, unflinching. She knows she should unhand him, but her body refuses to respond. She is transfixed, like an animal that freezes in the presence of a predator that tracks by sight. His expression is unreadable, but she has the strangest impression that he is unhappy with her.
Well, why wouldn't he be? Obviously she had impinged upon him. He invited her to brush his hair, after all, not fondle him. What had she been thinking? She is about to apologize when a shout fills the room.
"Rin!"
The door flaps open and Kaede appears, sodden clothes dripping on the floorboards.
"Lady Kaede!" Rin jumps to her feet, but the crease in Kaede's brow tells her that she saw enough, and the scene is scandalous: her young and innocent pupil hovering over a half-dressed demon, their faces inches apart in the firelight of an empty house. Rin resists the urge to groan and swears never to trust the universe again, as it certainly had a terrible sense of humor.
Rin scrambles for a spare blanket and throws it over Kaede's shoulders. She leads the old woman to the fire and rubs her upper arms. They are spindly under her hands, and it is moments like this that she remembers just how old and frail Lady Kaede is despite her quick wit and no-nonsense personality. "Were you caught in the storm?"
"I was across the village tending to Fu's broken ankle when the rain began. They implored me to stay the night, but I insisted on returning to the shrine."
Rin sighs. "I wish you wouldn't have walked through the rain, Lady Kaede. You might make yourself sick." The conversation is like déjà vu, though this time the concern is more appropriately placed.
Kaede shrugs her off and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I am a healer, child. I can manage. Besides, I wanted to make sure ye were safe." Rin doesn't miss the look she gives the demon sitting across from her.
"I'm fine, Lady Kaede. You should know by now that Lord Sesshomaru will always protect me."
"Hmm. Protect ye from what, I wonder." The implication isn't lost on Rin and it can't be lost on Lord Sesshomaru either, but the he meets Kaede's steady glare with indifference. The urge to explain and defend rises in Rin's throat, but Kaede speaks first.
"What is this in your hair, child? Cinquefoil?"
"Oh!" Rin had almost forgotten. Her fingers automatically reach up to touch the soft petals at her ear. "No, it's just a wildflower. I… found it this afternoon when we were looking for herbs." Somehow it feels important to edge around the truth; it's her secret, their secret.
"Just this afternoon? It's already so withered."
She pulls the flower from behind her ear and brings it to her lap. She sees that Kaede is right. The golden bloom, so vibrant just hours ago, is already curling at the edges. One petal is bent back, probably a consequence of the quick transport from the storm. Her heart aches a little at the manifestation of the broken moment in her hands.
Her voice is wistful. "It was really beautiful, before."
"I'm sure it was, child." She lays a hand on Rin's shoulder. "But ye know what I've told ye about picking wildflowers. They are best when left where they are. Things wilt and die when removed from their natural environments."
Rin is old enough to know a warning when she hears it. She glares at Kaede, but Kaede has returned her steely gaze to Sesshomaru, who is studying the floorboards. His expression is remote, like he isn't paying attention, like Kaede's words are beneath his consideration. And maybe they are. After all, Lord Sesshomaru was never one to back down from a challenge, and he certainly wouldn't stand to be intimidated by an old human woman.
Rin pointedly ignores the tick in his jaw and turns back to Kaede with a defeated sigh. "Please, Lady Kaede, you must go put on some dry clothes. I'll make you some tea."
The old woman rises and exits the room, and Rin busies herself with the tea pot. She tries to catch Sesshomaru's eye, to send him a smile, or a look, or something to tell him she doesn't mean it or it doesn't matter what she thinks, but his eyes eludes her. He's so far away he may as well be on another planet.
They drink their tea in uncomfortable silence broken only by Rin's miserable failed attempts at conversation. Kaede's responses are clipped and Lord Sesshomaru doesn't respond at all. He calmly sips his tea and continues to avoid her worried glances. Around them the storm rages. It is only when she bids him goodnight that he inclines his head in recognition.
When she wakes in the morning the sun has returned, but he is gone.
A/N – Kaede, mood killer extraordinaire. Because apparently I can't write anything sweet without throwing in some good old angst. Seriously, though, I don't think Kaede hates Sesshomaru or anything, but I think she's concerned about Rin the way a grandmother might be. That, and I think she has a healthy respect for the dangers demons represent, considering the trials her sister suffered.
I'm sorry about all the hair porn. I just have a fetish for Sesshomaru's hair. I mean, come on, just look at it. I'm certain it accounts for half of his body weight. However, I promise not to torture you with any more of that in the next (and final) chapter. I will torture you with other things instead *insert evil laugh*
As always, reviews warm my soul and remind me that this is a valid way to spend my time. Leave me some love (or critique, if that's your thing!) Thanks for reading!