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fandomweekly2024-04-20 06:59 pm
ladygriddlebone) wrote in fandomweekly2024-04-20 06:59 pm
Entry tags:
[#217] A Calculated Risk (InuYasha)
Theme Prompt: #217 - Recovery
Title: A Calculated Risk
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 920
Summary: Miroku, having taken a poorly-calculated risk, faces the consequences of his actions.
“Just rest,” Sango said. “It’ll be okay.”
Miroku heard her faintly, through a haze of pain. His whole body was a throbbing agony from the poison, overheated and feverish despite the cool, damp cloth Sango had placed across his forehead. The consequences of his actions loomed large now that the fight was over, though at the time they had seemed worth it.
He couldn’t seem to help himself. If it would protect Sango and the others—but mostly, he could admit if only to himself, for Sango—then he would use his curse to suck up the poisonous insects and suffer the consequences every time.
For a while he supposed he must have dozed off, though discomfort kept true sleep at bay, because the next thing he knew it was growing dark. Shadows loomed in every corner of the dilapidated hut that sheltered them. And it was, indeed, them. Sango remained at his side, and might have been there all this time.
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked, noticing that he was awake.
He made a noncommittal sound and was gratified to see the faintest of smiles grace her lips. He kept still as she reached over to take the cloth from his forehead. Someone had brought a bucket of water while he dozed, and she dropped the cloth into it now before helping him to sit up.
His head ached abominably at the sudden change of position, but he managed not to embarrass himself as Sango provided him with water and pills. “Kagome says they’ll help,” was all she could tell him, but he would have swallowed them anyway, just because she wanted him to.
Her hands on him were a delight and a torment at once. And she seemed to have not the slightest idea how much her proximity affected him, calmly helping him lie back down without jostling his head too much. She retrieved the cloth, wringing out the excess water before placing it on his forehead again. It was shockingly cold.
“You’re very good at this,” he observed.
“Yes,” she said absently. “It was part of my training back home. Everyone was expected to…” She trailed off and, lost in his own thoughts, Miroku did not prompt her to continue.
A tendril of jealousy coiled round his heart at the idea of her tending other men with such careful attention. He had known, of course, that basic medical care had been one of her duties as a slayer. He had not expected the visceral annoyance that now arose as he considered exactly what such care might have entailed.
How many other men had she sat beside, waiting and worrying? He let the ugly and unfair thought go as soon as it occurred to him. Any others were dead now, to a man. Sango deserved better than his petty jealousy; already he had decided to blame it on the poison and the fever, and to focus instead on the intensity of her eyes upon him, and on how close she was sitting.
Traveling with the others, this was as close to alone as they ever got. Sango seemed to realize it at the same time he did.
“Monk,” she began, her cheeks flushing slightly. Her hesitation only made him more eager to find out what she wanted to say.
For an instant he imagined teasing it out of her with kisses and caresses, but such thoughts would do nothing to diminish his fever.
Sango’s gaze darted toward the door, not covered by even a tattered mat; her fingers slipped through his hair in a caress that made him shiver despite the fever and his heated thoughts.
“Don’t be so quick to throw your life away,” she concluded at last. And then the mask was back in place, the tenderness hidden away. But her hand lingered where it was, and her gaze had lost none of its intensity. “Now get some rest. You know Inuyasha won’t be very patient while you recover.”
He did as she said, because there was nothing else he could do except rest and try to recover. But he was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind, to pull her down beside him on this makeshift bed of old damp straw, and—
But she was already out of reach. Having tended him to her satisfaction, she was off… somewhere. Their friends would have questions. Depending on how long he had dozed, she was probably hungry, or might have her own injuries to tend. He allowed his gaze to linger on the sway of her hips as she departed, and realized it was probably best that she leave. If she stayed he would be too distracted to rest.
Somewhere, the sun was going down. Sleep crept toward him like the shadows growing from the corners of the hut. And still, despite her absence, he thought of Sango. Of dark, luminous eyes. Of her hands on his back, his shoulders… tangling in his hair.
For that look in her eyes and that fleeting caress, he would do it all over again. For the desperate hope of a life together, of a future, he would do so much more.
As true sleep finally overtook him, he knew that he would do it all again next time. For Sango’s sake and for the life he yearned to have, he would take the risk every time. And as long as Sango was there to scold him and patch him up afterward, it would always be worth it.
Title: A Calculated Risk
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 920
Summary: Miroku, having taken a poorly-calculated risk, faces the consequences of his actions.
“Just rest,” Sango said. “It’ll be okay.”
Miroku heard her faintly, through a haze of pain. His whole body was a throbbing agony from the poison, overheated and feverish despite the cool, damp cloth Sango had placed across his forehead. The consequences of his actions loomed large now that the fight was over, though at the time they had seemed worth it.
He couldn’t seem to help himself. If it would protect Sango and the others—but mostly, he could admit if only to himself, for Sango—then he would use his curse to suck up the poisonous insects and suffer the consequences every time.
For a while he supposed he must have dozed off, though discomfort kept true sleep at bay, because the next thing he knew it was growing dark. Shadows loomed in every corner of the dilapidated hut that sheltered them. And it was, indeed, them. Sango remained at his side, and might have been there all this time.
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked, noticing that he was awake.
He made a noncommittal sound and was gratified to see the faintest of smiles grace her lips. He kept still as she reached over to take the cloth from his forehead. Someone had brought a bucket of water while he dozed, and she dropped the cloth into it now before helping him to sit up.
His head ached abominably at the sudden change of position, but he managed not to embarrass himself as Sango provided him with water and pills. “Kagome says they’ll help,” was all she could tell him, but he would have swallowed them anyway, just because she wanted him to.
Her hands on him were a delight and a torment at once. And she seemed to have not the slightest idea how much her proximity affected him, calmly helping him lie back down without jostling his head too much. She retrieved the cloth, wringing out the excess water before placing it on his forehead again. It was shockingly cold.
“You’re very good at this,” he observed.
“Yes,” she said absently. “It was part of my training back home. Everyone was expected to…” She trailed off and, lost in his own thoughts, Miroku did not prompt her to continue.
A tendril of jealousy coiled round his heart at the idea of her tending other men with such careful attention. He had known, of course, that basic medical care had been one of her duties as a slayer. He had not expected the visceral annoyance that now arose as he considered exactly what such care might have entailed.
How many other men had she sat beside, waiting and worrying? He let the ugly and unfair thought go as soon as it occurred to him. Any others were dead now, to a man. Sango deserved better than his petty jealousy; already he had decided to blame it on the poison and the fever, and to focus instead on the intensity of her eyes upon him, and on how close she was sitting.
Traveling with the others, this was as close to alone as they ever got. Sango seemed to realize it at the same time he did.
“Monk,” she began, her cheeks flushing slightly. Her hesitation only made him more eager to find out what she wanted to say.
For an instant he imagined teasing it out of her with kisses and caresses, but such thoughts would do nothing to diminish his fever.
Sango’s gaze darted toward the door, not covered by even a tattered mat; her fingers slipped through his hair in a caress that made him shiver despite the fever and his heated thoughts.
“Don’t be so quick to throw your life away,” she concluded at last. And then the mask was back in place, the tenderness hidden away. But her hand lingered where it was, and her gaze had lost none of its intensity. “Now get some rest. You know Inuyasha won’t be very patient while you recover.”
He did as she said, because there was nothing else he could do except rest and try to recover. But he was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind, to pull her down beside him on this makeshift bed of old damp straw, and—
But she was already out of reach. Having tended him to her satisfaction, she was off… somewhere. Their friends would have questions. Depending on how long he had dozed, she was probably hungry, or might have her own injuries to tend. He allowed his gaze to linger on the sway of her hips as she departed, and realized it was probably best that she leave. If she stayed he would be too distracted to rest.
Somewhere, the sun was going down. Sleep crept toward him like the shadows growing from the corners of the hut. And still, despite her absence, he thought of Sango. Of dark, luminous eyes. Of her hands on his back, his shoulders… tangling in his hair.
For that look in her eyes and that fleeting caress, he would do it all over again. For the desperate hope of a life together, of a future, he would do so much more.
As true sleep finally overtook him, he knew that he would do it all again next time. For Sango’s sake and for the life he yearned to have, he would take the risk every time. And as long as Sango was there to scold him and patch him up afterward, it would always be worth it.
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