Author's Note: Written for the Angst, Anguish and Torment table at the LJ comm inuyasha_sango. The prompt used is 'weak'.

The pair got back to camp (and each consumed a bowl of Kagome's vegetable stew a little reluctantly), Sango brushing off Kagome and Miroku's concerns about her wound carelessly. The miko, however, was not to be deterred.

"Let me clean that properly for you, Sango-chan," said Kagome, pulling out her first-aid box. "It could be infected."

Sango bit her lip; her rational mind was in full agreement but... it was Inuyasha's underkimono tied around her arm. The white fabric was worn smooth from constant wear – from his body – and she was strangely loath to throw it away; it was a sign of weakness to develop attachments to things.

Before the slayer could protest, Kagome had untied the bloodied bandage and rolled up the skin-tight material of her slayer suit. Sango winced a little as her cut was swabbed with disinfectant. While she appreciated the wonders of the goods from her friend's time, the strong smell and sting of the liquid never failed to elicit a reaction from her.

Beside her, Inuyasha wrinkled his nose as well. "That shit stinks, Kagome."

"We just have to put up with it," she answered, squirting more into the cotton. "Stuff that's good for you usually isn't very pleasant."

Patiently, Sango waited until the young girl was satisfied with the dressing – and she had to admit, it was a professional job as good as the healers of her village – before disappearing into the woods to change back into her more comfortable yukata.

Inuyasha was seated by the fire when she emerged, Tetsusaiga curled under one arm – Miroku, Kagome, Kirara and Shippou were nowhere in sight. "They went to get some more supplies from that village we passed," he explained, catching the quizzical look in her eye.

"You didn't go?" Sango was honestly surprised; whenever the group had to split up, she fully expected Miroku to be left with her.

"Keh. They don't take kindly to youkai – and you got your fool self injured. So we're staying."

She joined him, a small smile on her lips – the fact her body was closer to his than she had ever been with Miroku was not lost on the hanyou.

"How's your arm?"

She glanced at the sterile white dressings half-hidden under her sleeve. "It doesn't hurt much now. I think it'll be completely healed in a few weeks."

He snorted, one ear flicking back. "Good. Humans are so weak."

Sango bristled at that. "Hanyou are so arrogant," she riposted.

The dog demon blinked in surprise. "You may be hurt, wench, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on you..."

"Bring it on," she challenged, a playful light in her eyes.

He bared his teeth; a deliberately careless swipe at her head was dodged and a fist came driving at his ear. Inuyasha used his free hand to distract her, feinting at her ribs, while the other tugged on her ponytail. Sango twisted her waist to try and avoid the blow and found herself overbalancing into the hanyou's lap.

"I win," he breathed in her ear.

"You cheated; you used two hands," she shot back, ignoring the effect of his proximity on her senses, her face reddening.

In answer, Inuyasha raised an eyebrow, blushing as well. "What're you going to do, eh?"

Sango blinked – as though realizing their position for the first time – and quickly scrambled off his lap, mumbling an answer under her breath. He looked elsewhere, hiding the fact his face was as red as his clothes.

"Feh, Sango, you're hopeless when you're injured," Inuyasha commented gruffly. "I'll take you properly on when you get better, and hopefully you'll put up a decent fight."

A smile spread across the slayer's face – trust him to fall back on familiar ground when flustered. "I won't hold back, you know."

"Huh."