The alcohol burned through his veins, and Sesshoumaru grasped for the corner of the table to keep himself upright. Human sake shouldn't have had such an immediate effect on him, and he'd been promised that that's all it was, which was why he'd downed it so quickly.

Inuyasha had also promised it would be a short gathering, a way for him to show his subordinates that he could mingle and be more personable. He'd make the mistake of taking his word for it. His brother's voice sounded in his ear, but it was muffled, and he backed up, trying to gain his bearings.

Something grabbed his shoulder, but his vision was already clouded, senses muted, and he was shoved backwards until something hit him on all sides. He was protected—he could at least focus on any attacks from the front until the booze cleared his system. Based on the rapid onset, he wasn't sure how long that would be, but he had to remain vigilant until it did.

Figures moved in slow motion, his claws swiping any time they got too close, and he thought he heard Inuyasha's voice, but it wasn't directed at him, so he ignored it. Cowering in his makeshift cave, he tried to lock onto his youki, but it wasn't responding, diluted by the sake coursing through his veins.

If he could just get out, if he could make it to the street, the fresh air would undoubtedly help. Everything inside the bar grated on his nerves—even before the drink—and everything was too loud. He was about to cover his ears when he heard a low coo, a familiar presence sliding along his skin like a caress.

He knew it, had avoided it, but there was no way she was here, so it had to be a dream. He'd somehow blacked out since he'd sat down. She was somewhere in front of him, luring him out of his cave, and he leaned forward until one arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him the rest of the way out. He immediately found her hair, inhaling deeply to block out the mixture of alcohol and sweat.

She said something unintelligible, and he managed to drag his feet along the floor as she led him away. The fresh air did wonders, but the relief didn't last as he was suddenly horizontal and without her warmth. He struggled to sit up, but his limbs didn't respond, and only her soft reassurances kept his sanity intact.

He wasn't that way for long, and then she was beside him again, dragging him out and upward. She was saying something, a warning perhaps, her words slowly taking form before he was falling. The landing was soft and smelled slightly of her, so he didn't fight it, eyes remaining shut. She was still close, close enough to touch, and there was a brief flutter on his forehead. Taking his chances, his arm shot out, swiftly wrapping around her waist before pulling her down.

He found solace in her hair, inhaling deeply, and his tongue was finally able to form words. "Why do you always smell so delicious?"

Her hand flattened on his chest, and she tried to pull away. "I'll be right back—"

"You never came back." She stilled, allowing him to take advantage of more than just her hair.

He slid his nose up the expanse of her neck, images from back then flashing vividly through his mind. He tried to stop them, as he'd spent five centuries suppressing them, but the fever dream fueled by alcohol refused to give him peace. "You were hurt. I was angry. I could not protect you." His chest tightened, emotions raging in his weakened state.

Youki sparked but was still uncontrollable, trying to make sense of his location. Normally, when he dreamed about her, she didn't say much, her silence only deepening his self-loathing. He'd done so little for her back then, the intent to do more unfulfilled as she was ripped away from him.

Not that she knew.

She could never know.

First, she'd belonged to his brother, and by the time she began looking in his direction, he'd already cemented his role in her life. She could stop Inuyasha from retaliating after the altercation with the poison maker, but he'd scented her uncertainty. Even she wasn't sure what she'd seen. And though it was her plea that had him unsheathing Tenseiga for the otter pup, he'd let her pack think it was due to the kit's request.

Finding her within the bowels of Naraku had almost been his undoing. Only the horde of youkai bearing down on her kept him focused, their cries of anguish drowning out the scent of her blood. He'd offered his pelt as a means of protection both to her and himself. As long as he could feel the strength of her heart through the fur, he could pretend he wasn't unravelling at the thought of losing her.

"And then you were gone." It was more of a whine than anything, and even in his inebriated state, he winced at his own weakness.

"Did you not want me to be?" Her voice was soft, curious, and he couldn't help himself, indulging in a whim he kept buried. Fangs nipped at the base of her ear, and she didn't pull away, but the pressure from the hand on his chest increased.

"You need water."

"I need you," he replied. He was never this vocal, but neither was she, and he found he couldn't let the opportunity pass him by. He only hoped he remembered part of the dream when he awoke, as he knew the sensations of her running her fingers through his hair would never come to be. The air began to thin, the sound of her voice fading, but still, he held on.

He would deal with reality when morning came.

Sesshoumaru continued to stare at her sleeping form, hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to make sense of what had happened. The succulent scent of honeyed citrus roused him from a deep sleep, rays of sunlight poking through the curtains. Head pounding, he sought to turn over but found himself blocked.

A frown creased his brow as he realized he was still dressed, the buttons from his dress shirt digging into his flesh. He tried again, but a soft sigh had him stilling. Turning his head, a cluster of ebony locks came into view, and his veins turned to ice.

He had to be dreaming.

The miko was curled against his side, his arm pinned between her head and the mattress. Her breathing was even, still undisturbed, though his heart was about to burst from his chest.

How had he gotten here? Why was he here? His temples throbbed. Steeling himself, he managed to untangle his limbs, edging away from her as he pressed his back against the wall. He wasn't sure what time it was, and the only thing that kept his sanity intact was the fact they were both wearing clothes.

The blankets were rumpled, but their scents were still distinct, his on one side, hers on the other. Instincts, and 500 years of longing, bade him to be affronted that there wasn't more of a mixture, but since he was drawing a blank on the night before, he conceded it was a good thing.

He never would've forgiven himself for forgetting something as important as that.

The turmoil of his confusion held his attention for too long, body stiffening as she shifted against the sheets. Hands stretched above her head, and she winced, rubbing her shoulders as her eyes fluttered open. She looked around in a daze before she spotted him, giving him no time to make himself scarce, and he braced himself for a tirade or even disgust. Fear would've been worse, but as it was, all she offered was a comforting smile.

"Good morning."

Panic set in. It wasn't as if he could hide his identity, but shouldn't she at least be angry with him for taking up space in her bed all night?

A soft chuckle fluttered between them, and she patted his hand. "Don't worry, nothing happened. You drank too much at the business party, and Inuyasha—"

"He should have known better than to call you," he spat. His brother was well aware of his infatuation, the constant nagging doing little to convince him to willingly be in her presence. He'd told him on several accounts, to the point of threatening him within an inch of his life, to leave it alone.

"Seems like I was the only one you'd let near you," she mused. The soft lilt of her voice, paired with her dishevelled appearance, had his imagination running wild, and he pressed himself harder against the wall, claws digging into his palms to keep himself balanced.

"That is likely a side effect of the alcohol," he bit out, eyes lingering too long on her form. She'd aged since he'd last seen her, temper traded in for a cool confidence akin to his own. He mentally shook his head. This was not the time nor the place. "Next time, I will be more selective with who mixes my drink."

"Or you could just admit why I was able to bring you home without incident."

"My brother seeks to meddle—"

"Inuyasha didn't say anything," she replied, waving him off as a knowing smile tilted up the edge of her mouth. "You did, though."

Blood flooded his face as she recounted what had happened the night prior, hackles rising when she repeated what he'd said. He couldn't remember any of it. There were snippets of a dream on the edge of his mind, but nothing concrete. Yet, there was no deceit in her scent, the glint in her eyes freezing him to the bed.

Nothing about the situation was humorous, but she looked close to laughing. He tried twice to escape, but each attempt was thwarted by nothing more than a few simple words. And when she grabbed his wrist, thumb stroking soothingly, he admitted defeat, head slumping against her shoulder.

She'd yet to pull away, and he let the sweet scent that was her—that had always been her—envelope him. Her fingers made their way through his hair, bringing forth another memory from the night before. He wanted nothing more than to do the same, but his mind was spinning from her unyielding accommodation.

His eyes closed as he forced back the hope threatening to overtake him. He shouldn't be assuming anything. Just because she'd invited him to stay didn't mean anything would come of it. She'd likely never lost the compassion from her teenage years, and this would be nothing but—

"You're not allowed to kiss me until we've both brushed our teeth, though." She had the audacity to wink at him after slipping from his grasp, the little minx flipping her hair over her shoulder as she flounced to the bathroom. It wasn't until he heard the water turn on that he realized she was serious, and he tore after her, only to be greeted by a spare toothbrush when he got to the doorway.

She kept her fingers from touching his as he accepted the gift, as well as stood far enough away from him while she finished. The sight of them in the mirror, completing such a domestic task, was heart-wrenching. He tried to keep his eyes on his own reflection, but each movement had his gaze wandering. How her head tilted to each side, her tongue darting out to catch extra saliva from dripping onto her chin, and then the way her hip shot out when she righted herself.

It was hypnotizing.

She didn't vacate the bathroom after she was done, leaning against the sink as she waited for him—as if she'd always been waiting for him. He knew she hadn't, had made sure she barely knew of his existence, but the calm, almost expectant look on her face had him reaching out, his thumb sliding across her cheek. She leaned into the touch, and his heart wavered, a million words on the tip of his tongue, yet none would form.

In the end, nothing was needed. She shook her head in exasperation and grabbed the front of his shirt. The feel of her mouth against his was foreign, and his mind short-circuited as she flicked her tongue out. He slanted his head, but she was already pulling away, grinning at him before offering to make them breakfast.

To this day, he couldn't remember what she made him. It was filling enough to keep his stomach from rumbling, but his attention remained solely on her. She was so at home in her kitchen, rolling up her right sleeve to keep it from interfering with the food. Her pyjamas were cotton and comfortable, but every so often, they clung to a curve he hadn't seen before, and only her knowing laughter or the clearing of her throat could tear his eyes away.

"Planning on telling me why I haven't heard from you since I got back yet you can't stop staring at my ass?"

"It is not the only place I am staring," he blurted, covering his face with a groan. "That is, you make it difficult not to stare."

"Bonus points for complimenting me when I'm in yesterday's pyjamas and haven't showered yet, dog-man." She sauntered between the stove and the fridge, putting together a pair of plates.

"It is the truth," he admitted.

"The same truth that made me the only one who could touch you?" she said, not looking at him.

The nervous tapping of his foot against the floor instantly ceased, the table stretching out between them. She continued with her endeavour, cutlery clinking against the plates. "It has always been that way."

Her hands stilled, hovering above the egg container, but her scent remained clear. "Don't you think that's something you should've mentioned sooner?"

"I had not thought it would be received well." His eyes bore into the back of her head, waiting for any telltale sign that his presence was no longer wanted. She was the ever-gracious host, rescuing him from his drunken stupor, offering up her bed, and now feeding him after the fact. All while he fed off her attention.

"You never know until you ask," she replied. She resumed what she was doing, but he'd already slunk around the table. She released the handle a moment before he turned her around, eyes searching. She raised an eyebrow when he hesitated too long, casually leaning back against the counter. "I always thought you had more bravado than that." His growl was met with a raise of her chin, and she tried to return to her cooking, but he caught her jaw, forcing her to stop.

He had so many reasons not to, but he couldn't remember a single one as he lowered his head, the need to taste her properly overriding every shred of his common sense. He was still convinced this was all a dream, but a dream had never felt this real, had never allowed him such access.

Her mouth opened immediately, tongue curling around his as she went up on tiptoe. She was so much shorter than him, but you'd never know it with how she carried herself. She was a warrior in her own right and a goddess in his, tendrils of her power following her hands as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Their food lay forgotten and would likely need reheating, but all he needed was the caramelized sugar she so willingly enticed him with. A soft hum had his knees shaking, claws biting into the edge of the counter as she pulled him closer. He wished to hold her but couldn't risk letting go of the counter, and she knew it, blunt nails scraping his scalp before dragging down his chest.

"You're welcome to stay," she breathed, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "As long as you keep telling me how much of an impact I made on you back then."

Amber eyes glowed in the artificial light, youki teasing her senses as his confidence grew. "How much time do you have?"

She chuckled, patting his cheek before grabbing their plates. She nudged his arm out of the way, placing the food on the table. "I don't work today if that's what you mean. Though I was hoping to finish a documentary I'd started yesterday." She slid into her chair. "I had lofty goals of true crime and ice cream, but someone interrupted me."

He sat down across from her. "The blame lies with Inuyasha."

Blue eyes gleamed with mirth as she swallowed the first bite. "I was talking about how you refused to let me go after I brought you home."

His stripes darkened, though not as much as before, and he busied himself with his food. "I cannot be held accountable for my actions when I am under the influence," he muttered. "Youkai sake diminishes any control—"

"Including the stubbornness of an ice prince hellbent on ignoring a life-long obsession," she cut in.

"You are not an obsession," he argued.

"Have you been dreaming about me since I left?" she asked smugly. His mouth snapped shut, his scowl darkening his features, but it only made her laugh harder. "Don't worry. I won't hold it against you." She reached across the table, intertwining their fingers. "Today."

Sesshoumaru pursed his lips, returning to his food as he waited for her to release him, but she continued to eat with her non-dominant hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He watched her intently until she looked up with a raised brow.

"Something wrong with the food?"

He shook his head, silently returning to the meal, all the while trying to ignore the way her thumb stroked his. Perhaps he'd been too hasty in his assessment. She wasn't a goddess but a temptress, teasing him relentlessly as the day went on.

They eventually ended up on the couch, bowls of ice cream in their hands as she ranted about the stupidity of the perpetrators on the screen. "Don't just leave it there! That has your DNA all over it!" He chuckled, finally feeling at ease enough to do so, and she leaned back on the couch. "There's another season if you're interested."

"I have to work tomorrow," he said reluctantly.

She patted his shoulder. "That's fine. Just make sure you text me your schedule for the rest of the week when you get there." His blank look was met with an impish grin. "I've already programmed my number into your phone." The edge of his mouth quirked, drawing her gaze, and before he could set his bowl down, her mouth was on his.

He didn't know what to do with his hands as she teased him into responding. She put such energy into everything she did that it was no wonder he'd been forced to stay away. Seeing her act this way with anyone would have been torture.

"I'm not going to ask you to stay the night," she said, slowly pulling away, "but make sure you call me after work so we can make plans for next time." A growl vibrated through his chest, and she nipped at his nose, stealing the rest of his ice cream before settling against him for the rest of the show. She felt so at home in his arms, fingers tracing the stripes on his wrist when he pulled her closer.

He didn't care what work had in store for him this week; he'd be sure to clear his weekend schedule as soon as possible.

Inuyasha could work the overtime instead.