Kagome placed a cool cloth atop Sesshomaru’s brow, the edges of his crescent moon peeking out from below. Little frigid droplets ran down his temples into tangled silver hair. Hazy golden eyes blinked at her, glowing in the firelight. She adjusted the blankets, untangling them from his restless legs and pulling them back up to his chest.
“Too hot,” her patient mumbled in a low, raspy voice. Clawed hands haphazardly tried to push them away, but Kagome held firm.
“I know, but this will help you fight off the fever.”
“I don’t have a fever,” he managed to croak between coughs.
The corners of her lips twitched at the beginnings of the same disagreement they’d been having the last three days, but Kagome managed to hide her smile.
“Uh-huh.”
“Yokai can’t fall ill.”
“Obviously, that’s not true.”
A groan clearly meant to be a growl echoed through her tiny hut. Reluctantly he gave up his struggle with the bedding and allowed Kagome to settle the sheets around him. His hands flopped back to the futon in defeat.
“I’d much prefer,” Sesshomaru started breathless, one hand reaching out to sloppily caress her knee, “if you were the one keeping me warm, Kagome. This insufferable heat would be delightfully more tolerable if you shared the bed.”
Kagome met his golden gaze and smiled, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
“See? I know you’re ill because you’re using contractions and speaking nonsense.”
“That’s not—” Sesshomaru swiftly abandoned her knee and grabbed one of the many handkerchiefs from the side of the futon, sneezing twice in a row. “That is not nonsense, Kagome. I’d revel in the opportunity to warm your bed with you in it.”
The blush deepened. Kagome had lost count of how many times Sesshomaru confessed his desires to her since falling ill, and how many times she told herself he was simply loopy from all the meds she’d smuggled back from the future years ago. She struggled to keep her heart from racing and her mind reeling from all the possibilities.
She couldn’t get her hopes up. Not again. Not without clear intentions.
“Tell me all of this when you’re off the flu medication, okay?”
“My feelings for you won’t change,” Sesshomaru turned on his side, wet cloth sliding off his forehead and flopping to the futon. He curled his entire body around her kneeling form, head burrowing into her lap, arms wrapping around her waist and giving a quick squeeze before releasing to a comfortable hold. “But if you insist I’ll gladly shout it across the skies.”
His head burrowed further into her lap forehead pressing against her stomach. She could feel him trying to breathe in through his nose and failing.
“Curse this damnable flu,” he spoke, voice muffled. “I can’t smell you.”
Kagome laughed, her abdomen brushing rhythmically against his forehead. She rested one hand upon his head brushing through some of the silver strands.
“You’ll be able to as soon as your stuffy nose goes away.”
“That day can’t come soon enough.”
Kagome listened to his sniffles as she stared at the fire. His breathing evened out and before long he was snoring in her lap. Gently, she pressed him back to the futon, adjusting the sheets, and placing the cool cloth on him once more. And as she tucked stray stands of silver behind his pointed ears, she decided she couldn’t wait for that day either. One where he was healthy, holding her, deliberately saying everything he confessed these past three days. One where he loved her and she could finally reciprocate.