Day Five
Prompt: Nyctophilia. Noun. Love of darkness; finding relaxation and comfort in darkness.
Universe: (Post) Canon
Genre: Slice-of-life, Romance.
672 Words
Sesshoumaru stared at the painted ceiling and gave up on sleeping. Youkai did not require as much rest, anyway, and though he felt tired it seemed that sleep was not forthcoming tonight.
He sat up and let his gaze sweep across the dark room, finally landing on the sleeping form of his wife. For a moment he simply sat there, listening to the slow, steady beat of her heart and her soft even breaths. She was curled up under her blankets and was perfectly still aside from the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her face appeared serene, and Sesshoumaru felt the calmness emanating from her, allowing her aura to embrace him in a soothing wave.
He rose slowly, wary of waking his wife up. He did not bother with lighting a candle or a lantern, seeing perfectly clearly even in the darkness of the night. He crossed the room, his bare feet soundless on the tatami mats. He slid open the painted door and slipped out of the room.
Outside in the corridor the air was cooler and the soft roar of the pouring rain more pronounced. There was something peaceful in the sound as well, he mused to himself as he walked a few rooms down.
He opened the sliding door slowly and then halted in the doorway, peering into the bedroom, waiting to see if either of its occupants would stir from the noise.
The triangle ears of his eldest perked up, and the girl's small face scrunched up in her sleep, but she did not rouse from her slumber. She slept on, cocooned in her blankets. His son was sleeping even more soundly, snuffling to his pillow, his little legs twitching as he dreamt. He was curled in a ball and comfortably tucked as close to his older sister's side as he could muster.
Sesshoumaru's baser instincts were now sated, as he had checked to make sure all the members of his small pack were safe and sound. Still, he stayed in the doorway, feeling a sudden swell of pride as he eagerly drank in the sight of the sleeping children. Every now and then, in small quiet moments like this he would stop and marvel at how exactly he had come to possess such happiness; he, who had once been alone. He basked in the warm feeling floating in his chest and then, reluctantly, stepped back and slid the door shut, leaving his children to their dreams.
The soft and steady fall of rain hummed in his ears as he walked up the corridor, and slipped back into his own room. He turned to regard his wife again.
She had turned to her side, her dark hair fanning the mattress.
His expression softened, as it always did when he looked at her.
It was all her doing, he told himself, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly. She was the reason for his happiness; she was the heart of his pack.
"How long are you going to stare?" a drowsy murmur startled him out of his thoughts.
He had not noticed that his wife had woken, had not heard the change in her breathing pattern.
"As long as I want to," he replied at last, sure that she could hear his smile in his voice.
"You're such a guard dog," she grumbled, earning a small chuckle from him.
Then, her eyes opened, and despite the darkness surrounding them they looked straight at him, pinning him down.
"Come here," she commanded, her voice hoarse from sleep.
He readily obliged, padding across the room and lying down on her futon. He slid under the covers and gathered his wife in his arms, tucking her close. Her frame fit perfectly against his, and he let out a content sigh as he buried his nose in her hair.
She giggled from the sensation, and then her slender hand settled on top of his.
"Sleep," she told him, her soothing voice washing over him like the rain pattering outside.