Written for knittingknots.

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Sick Day

Sango eyed her husband worriedly as she knelt before the futon he was currently curled up on. When Miroku made no move to acknowledge her she laid the cool wet cloth against his forehead.

“Here. Kagome said wiping you down with cool water should help,” she said, carefully eyeing him in his lethargic state.

“Why’s that?” he probed. She was acting wary, cautious, and as always he was curious to find what could cause her to retreat.

“Kagome said it’s better you not lay in your own sweat too long and that cooling you down would help as well.”

“Normally I thought you liked to do things that helped me get all sweaty.” He grinned when she blushed. “This is quite the turnaround.”

“Just be quiet,” she huffed, snatching the cloth from his face, rewetting it in the bowl of cool water, and running it across his neck. When she had to part his clothing to get to his chest she averted her eyes and Miroku chuckled at her antics.

“What’s the matter, Sango? I’m your husband. There’s nothing here you haven’t seen before.”

She shot a quick glance toward the door. “It’s the middle of the day.”

He eyed the heavy mat covering the door, blocking the sunlight to the point they’d needed to light their cooking fire for light. He raised his eyebrow at her, as if to prove his point, but she refused to notice. “Last I checked I’m still your husband the middle of the day.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she scoffed, but he could see some of the worry had leaked out of her eyes. He’d been sick for over a week, with everything from light fevers to coughing, and he hated to admit but even he’d been worried for a bit, if only because of the pain he could see on Sango’s face.

Kagome and Inuyasha had taken the kids and Kagome had come to check on him several times, giving Sango advice and directions about what to do, but to both their great relief she had never pulled out any of her future medicine. Since she had no access to get any more she saved it for only the direst of circumstances. That she hadn’t given him any spoke loudly about how much faith she had that he’d pull through just fine and that this sickness would pass soon enough.

Now it seemed like Sango was finally beginning to believe that as well and he couldn’t be more relieved.

“I need to get to your arms and your back. Can you get out of that on your own?”

The light clothing he’d been wearing was already partially undone and merely hung on his shoulders. All he’d need to do was sit up slightly and shrug out of it. Honestly he wouldn’t have much trouble with it, and he did hate to appear weak – especially in front of Sango, but he also hated to be separated from his wife – especially when he was only partially dressed.

So instead he made a show of struggling to prop himself up, panting lightly when he made it to his elbows. “I think you’re going to have to help me.”

Sango had no trouble recognizing the mischief in his eyes, knew he was playing with her, but she was so grateful he was coming back to himself that she didn’t argue. Instead she decided that if he had the energy to play with her then he wouldn’t mind if she played back.

Leaning over him she let her hair brush across his bare chest as she worked the cloth off his far arm, quickly pulling back just as he reached for her. He looked at her with suspicion but she affected a look of innocence, as if she hadn’t even noticed his movement. They repeated the dance again and again as she worked the cloth from his other arm or reached around him to wash his back.

When he finally gave a sigh of exasperation Sango laughed lightly and he knew he’d been had. She brushed his hair from his face tenderly even as she teased him, “Poor baby, you just have such rotten luck don’t you.”

She wasn’t expecting the movement, though she should have known better than to think he’d given into defeat, so he easily caught her wrist. “Not at all. I got you to marry me, didn’t I?”

“That’s only because I beat you into submission,” she ribbed, even as she graced him with a large, watery smile that stretched across her face.

He pulled on her hand. “Come to bed with me.”

Her voice turned stern. “Miroku, you know you can’t-”

“I know, I know. Even I’m aware I’d do a poor job of it right now.”

He grinned widely and she sighed. They both knew if she hadn’t said anything he very well may have tried it.

“Just lie down with me,” he urged. “I miss the feel of you.”

He always knew just what to say and with a quick shake of her head and a small, exasperated smile and she gave in. She crawled into the futon behind him, wrapping her arms around him as she pulled the blanket over him. Just because he was finally starting to make a recovery didn’t mean he was out of danger yet and despite their banter she still worried. She pressed the palm of her hand firmly over his heart, just to reassure herself with the feel of it, and when he noticed he pulled her hand up, kissing the palm.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sango. I’d never willingly leave you.”

“You better not, because if you did I might just have to follow you and hunt you down.”

He chuckled lightly and the feel of it was so normal, so vibrant against her body that she felt something coiled tight inside her slowly loosen. He was laughing at her but she didn’t mind, as it meant he was coming back to her.

“I know you would,” he said, a smile in his voice, “and I’m glad of it.”

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Word count: 1014