"You have no one to blame but yourself," Sango said, pausing in her stride to get a better grip on Miroku's pants. She'd have preferred to be holding him around the waist, but she was fairly certain he'd fracture a rib.

Or three.

"My dear Sango, how else was I supposed to impress you?" he asked, hissing in pain as he leaned against her.

"Not by jumping out a fourth-story window without the proper training!" She ignored the last part of his comment, though she could feel her cheeks heat.

Miroku struggled to stay upright, his ankle badly swollen as well. "It didn't seem that high."

"Again. Training. Of which you have none. That's not the kind of attention you want." She dragged him over to the medic's tent, gingerly laying him down. "Stick to set design. It's what you're good at." She patted his hand, then turned to find the doctor, only to have his fingers intertwine with hers.

"Stay with me?" His eyes were large and round, and Sango couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled out of her mouth.

"You're such a baby."

His grin was half of a wince, and he tried to cover it by kissing the back of her hand. "I will be anything to keep you near."

Sango shook her head but pulled up a chair, content to berate his stupid decisions for a bit longer. Maybe she'd take pity on him and accept his request for a dinner date if he was able to sit up by himself.

It would serve him right if she made a legitimate pass at him and he wasn't physically able to reciprocate.