Miroku was sitting against a tree, lazing about as usual. His lovely wife was currently inside their home, cooking, cleaning, and more than likely doing numerous other chores that gave him a headache just thinking about it. Really, why do woman have to clean so much? It'll only get dirty again later! Yes, I understand that there's a point when that filth becomes unavoidable, but why do just wait until that point? Most of the time, his wife cleaned over a spot she cleaned the day before! He was afraid to tell her she was going crazy though, least he get a thump on the head. And he didn't like being unconscious, so he tried whenever possible to avoid that mine field.

Tilting his head upwards, he peered at the sun through the color changing leaves of the tree he was currently residing against. It was probably a little past afternoon, he concluded. He was supposed to go back in and help his wife with the chores a while ago, but the soft patch of grass he was sitting on was just SO comfortable, and the small shack they called a home was just SO far away, he decided that she could handle herself. After all, she was the one who wanted to clean imaginary dirt and muck, not him.

Paying attention to the tree providing him back support, he counted the different colors of the leaves. They were in the beginning of fall, the different colors of leaves hinting that. Spotting a green leaf now became an impossible task, to many red oranges and yellows camouflaging their whereabouts. The leaves were only just starting to fall from their branches, littering the ground and creating a sort of crunch whenever you walked.

Sighing, he closed his eyes trying to relax and get somewhat of a nap before his wife found him. Not like he was hiding, he just couldn't be himself around the beautiful form of his wife. Their three children should tell you that much. Miroku always wanted kids, and after the defeat of Naraku he no longer had to worry about a dark future for his children. Or his own for that matter.

One of Miroku's eyes peaked open, glancing down at the hand that had once cause him so much pain and misery. It was now as normal as any other hand, no longer having the wind tunnel to worry about. Miroku flexed his hand in emphasis of his mental thought. Yep, his hand was just like every other mans.

He definitely didn't have woman hands. No, his wife's hands were a lot softer than his, so Miroku didn't have to worry about his masculinity. Thinking about it now, his entire wife was soft. Her hands, her hair, her lips, her skin, everything was just silky smooth.

A smile stretched across Miroku's face. He could recall his intimate encounters with his wife in the past. The way her moans sounded, the way her back arched, the way her legs spread wider for him, her skin so soft beneath his rough hands. He could remember the perfect image of her face while so came. Amazing, simply amazing, that was the only word for it. But, that was a while ago. Before the children, before the chores, when everything was easy.

They could lay tangled in the sheets for as long as they so pleased, only moving to hover on top of her when their close proximity became overwhelming and he just had to have her. Yes, but all of that was so very long ago. It was around morning when that last happened. Now look, it's almost noon! A man does have needs, even a monk, and just because the kids needed breakfast and she needed to clean, that had ruined his whole morning!

It was so unfair how she use him for her own pleasure just before ditching hi- SNAP! A sharp noise pulled him from his thoughts. Looking over, he saw his oh so lovely wife sauntering over to him. She had a baby tucked in one arm, napping soundly as she walked toward Miroku. The other two monsters that he had come to call his daughters were nowhere to be seen. "There you are Miroku! You were supposed to come back from your walk by noon! It's well past that now. I had to clean the house all by myself!" She ended with an adorable pout on her face, and her voice did sound half as angry as he had expected it to be.

"How many times have I told you woman? Your chores are your chores. I can't help you clean what is already clean. Perhaps if you just sat down and relaxed like average mothers do, you wouldn't be so tired and high strung. And that doesn't help your violet anger problems either, just so you know."

She had her fist in the air by the time he was finished, and the second the last word slipped from his mouth his head was throbbing. There was more than likely a patch of skin that was already bruising under his dark hair. "You want anger problems? I'll show you anger problems! Do you really that bonking you on the head is the worst I can do to you? How about this you lecherous monk, no more sex!"

Miroku's eyes widened at that ending statement, but his wife continued on. "I'm so tired of doing all these chores by myself! The only reason I do them in the first place I because you're such a pig! It's your fault to begin with! And what have I told you about calling me woman? I'm not one of your womanizing targets Miroku. I'm Sango, you know, your wife! Why do I even bother with you!?" Sango was huffing now, the stress and need to sleep that he had mentioned earlier making itself known. "Stop yelling Sango, I'm right here. Think about the baby." Miroku was standing in front of Sango now, observing the baby in her arms and impressed by the fact that he had slept through Sango tirade. That really must take some skill.

Sango sighed heavily, and Miroku wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "The reason you put up with me, my dearest Sango, is because you love me." Sango opened her eyes as he said this, a soft smile touching her lips. "Also, no one can give you wonderful sex like I do whenever you're horny, so there are plenty of good reasons you keep me around." He leered down at his wife, who was now blushing in his arms.

She merely rolled her eyes, muttering a "Lecher" under her breath before separating herself from him. "Come on Miroku, let's go inside. It'll be dark soon, and seeing as winter is nearing," she took a brief pause here, looking around her surroundings and admiring the changing leaves that he had just noticed a while ago. "And since its winter the nights will be even colder. Let's go Miroku."

Sango turned to leave, the soft crunch of leaves sounding her departure. "Sango?" Miroku asked timidly. "Yes dear husband of mine?" "You were kidding about the no sex part of your speech right? We still get to cuddle naked tonight?" Miroku couldn't help that his tone had turned pleading, just the thought of having to wear clothes in bed with Sango, not being able to spoon her and feel every inch of skin that he had already memorized, just the thought alone stung.

Sango merely turned and gave him a suggestive glance, lecherous smile of her own taking form. She then turned back around, heading in the direction of home. Miroku followed nosily behind her, the dying leaves on the grassy floor acting as a background soundtrack. He did have a smile on his face though, content with the idea of nude snuggling tonight to help fight off the bitter cold of winter, now his favorite season.