This is a rambling little one shot fic for SangoXMiroku lovers. Sap, lime, 
a little angst, a little hope. Enjoy.


Intimacy
By Amanda "Seifergrrl" Lever



A year.

The hollow words of his mentor rang in Miroku's ears; not even the roar of 
the falls under which he sat could drown out Mushin's flat tone as he laid 
out his diagnosis.

You can buy yourself more time, if you stop using the rip. If you settle 
down, sire your heir, and stop hunting Naraku, you might last two, three 
more years.

His dark eyes opened ,despite the water that pounded against his shoulders, 
drenching his form with it's purifying chill. He could not bring himself to 
do anything except frown.

You've worked hard. You've accomplished much. Now... stop. Take what time 
you can and prepare.

The falls did nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders, the meditation 
fleeting and ephermeral. Finally, he faced the facts: He had no focus, and 
rose from his seat, moving from the stones so that he could move over to 
his clothing.

His right hand was still bandaged from the earlier surgery. He wondered if 
Naraku had seeded his Cloud of Youkai with things with razor sharp scales 
on purpose.

Probably.

Trying not to dwell on the darkness that had plagued his family for three 
generations, he began to strip out of his wet gi and grabbed the rough 
towel that he had set with his robes. His mending hand was a little awkward 
in use, but he still managed to get himself dry, even if it did take a 
little longer then it should.

A dry fundoshi was wound around his hips, and his underrobe was as being 
tied when he heard footsteps in the distance.

"Who's there?"

"Sango, houshi-sama."

He paused for a moment, before completely the final knot. "I'm, ah, decent, 
Sango." His lips quirked at his choice of words. "You can come closer."

The young woman turned around one of the trees, coming into view; the 
clench of his heart at her appearance was sharper then normal, but it was a 
pleasent pain -- he smiled all the same.

She stopped there, and swayed back to lean against a tree, he hands clasped 
together low before her. She would not look up.

"Did... you have something on your mind, Sango?" Miroku asked gently.

"I... I was wondering what houshi-sama intends to do," she said, her 
fingers begining to twist. She toyed with a delicate finger nail, still not 
looking up.

He had expected that question; he'd been asking the same thing of himself 
for the last few hours.

"I don't know," he said. "The abandonme--"

"It's not abandonment!" Sango interrupted him sharply, finally looking up 
at him with wide eyes. "Houshi-sama has done so much, and helped us all so 
greatly! He has done... many admirable things, in so short a time."

"I still have not completed my duty," Miroku reminded her, though not 
ungently. "Naraku still lives. And I still have no heir."

Her face tightened at his last words, and she looked away.

Silence stretched out, filling up the space between them. Miroku took up 
his outer robe and wrapped it around himself, trying to tie it's knot clumsily.

Sango gathered her wits as he worked, before she pushed away from the tree 
to come and help him; her hands were both functional,and without a word she 
brushed his away so he could work.

"Houshi-sama should carefully consider," she said, as the violet cloth was 
knoted securely against his chest. "If Houshi-sama lives two, three extra 
years -- that gives us time to do what we need to, to defeat Naraku. With 
that, houshi-sama could live as long as life allows him."

"And what will you do without him?"

"Hope for the best."

"Not enough." Miroku said, and smiled again. "I would prefer, I think, to 
go with the companions that have fought beside me, rather then wait in 
safety, and wonder, 'Has Inu-Yasha broken Kagome-sama's heart?', or 'Is 
Shippou safe?', or, 'Has Kagome-sama accepted her destiny?'"

"And what would you wonder about me?" Sango asked.

Two answers sprung to his lips -- but the honest one did not make it past 
them. "'Has Sango saved her most-precious brother?'"

Their eyes met, dragging out the moment of dishonesty between them -- and 
for a split second, he wondered if she had been seeking his other answer. 
But then her eye dropped, and she smoothed her hands against her chest, 
chasing away the ripples from his clothes. With a tiny moment of 
hesitation, she moved away from him.

Her lack of touch left a distinct emptiness in it's wake.

The silence returned; spreading between them, this time it was choking. He 
fussed with his wet hair, she would not watch him.

It was not until he had reached for his staff that she looked back at him 
again.

"Would houshi-sama grant me one request?"

"What would that be, Sango?" he asked curiously. "If it is in my power, I 
will surely give it."

"His honest answer."

"Aa..."

"His -honest- answer."

"Sango..."

"To my question."

The clench returned.

"What would houshi-sama wonder, were he far away?"

The clench tightened.

"What would you wonder?"

"'Does she miss me, like I miss her?'"

Sango turned back to him, her expression like a stone mask. He had only 
seconds to contemplate her, before he caught the familiar arc of her hand, 
just before it cracked against his face. The red welt left in it's wake was 
a familiar sting, but in the two seconds of complete shock that followed, 
he was unprepared for her body to be thrown against him, her arms sliding 
around him to grip him tightly.

"Baka!" she sobbed as she buried herself against her chest. "Baka! To be so 
stupid!"

He was still reeling; he wasn't sure if it was the smack or her sobs that 
has shocked him more. He hadn't even done anything to deserve either! She 
gripped his robes, turning her face up to him.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why couldn't you be honest with us? With me? Why must 
it always be a smile that lied? We knew! We knew after the first time we 
found you here, half-addled and nearly lost to us, that you were lying to 
us, in our own faces! And we let you, because we thought it too cruel to 
strip away your guards--but can't you, now, just be honest with me? Honest 
with me just this once? Now?"

"Sa-sango..." he stuttered through her name, his own hands finally lifting 
to grip her arms even as she held him.

"Please," she murmured, face wet with tears. "Please. Give me this one 
thing. Give me your honesty."

Her face was open, pleading -- not the moment of stone she'd shown him just 
before she struck him. His cheek still stung -- but he risked another slap 
to give her an honest answer.

His head dipped in a sudden motion, and his lips closed briefly over hers. 
He thought it would be enough, and drew back hastily--hoping he was not 
going to be struck again.
She stared at him a moment, and then lifted her hands to cup his face, and 
then drew him down to her.

The kiss she gave wasn't hasty or light. He discovered what it was like to 
be devoured by the hunger of another, their mouths parting and tongue 
sweeping against his teeth.

And he liked it.

He stumbled into her, his arms sliding around her to draw him to his chest; 
her hands were mussing his just-straightened, wet hair, and he didn't care. 
When her fingers tightened in his dark locks, tugging against his scalp 
until it hurt -- he still didn't care.

She didn't break away when one hand dipped down her back to cup her butt -- 
it was a moment or two later when she released her lock on his mouth with a 
gasp; she didn't make a murmur of protest that he'd drawn her close, that 
his hand was somewhere she normally didn't allow him to touch without pain 
following shortly after...

She pushed him against the tree and kissed him harder!

Rational thought was devoured by the lizard brain; soon between the rushing 
hands, the sharp tugs at the robe she�d just tied, the skirt torn away, 
kimono parted, mouths still meeting skin, they lost all sense of anything 
except each other.

Her hands dragged him down, the soft folds of his robes spread upon the 
grass to create a bed for them. His hand found her breasts, her nails raked 
down his back. Gasped names and soft cries were all they exchanged.

It was more then desire, it was affirmation. He lived. She lived. The act 
could create life.

And that�s what froze him above her, as she drew him down atop her, skin 
pale against the black and indigo of his robes, dark hair fanning out 
beneath her.

�I can�t,� he finally said in a rush, still propped above her body, her 
legs tangled with his. �I want to  gods, I want to. But  Sango, we can�t. 
We can�t.�

She looked up at him with a lack of comprehension, eyes clouded with her 
need to complete what she�d started, to assure both of the roar of blood in 
both their hearts.

�Why?� she finally stammered out, as he sat up, carefully disengaging their 
limbs and turning his gaze away from her.

�I couldn�t,� he breathed. �Your mission, Sango. I can�t let you sacrifice 
that for mine.�

�My mission?� she mouthed in return, and then glanced away.

"Would we name our son Kohaku, Sango?" His barb struck true; she flinched, 
and he immediately regretted that moment of harshness. He drew her up, 
wrapping his robe around them both; he felt her arms slide around his 
shoulders, holding him to her shoulder.

"Sango, I can no more ask you to abandon your mission then you can properly 
assist me in mine," he murmured as he rested his head against her shoulder. 
"My heart would be burdened; I could never give you true happiness,� he 
explained gently, while her silence remained. He did not dare look up at 
her. Would she feel he�d rejected her because she couldn�t give him an heir?

Did she think he didn�t love her?

Clutching his cursed hand to his chest, his good palm laid over it, he 
carefully contemplated his next words.

However, she kissed his brow, one hand reaching up to smooth back the hair 
she�d mussed.

�You understand?� he said, quaver in his voice betraying him.

�Yes,� she said gently. �But you do know, if there� there wasn�t Kohaku��

�And no kazaana�� He smiled slightly, trying to ease the brief moment of 
fear from his voice, placing a kiss to her neck. �Perhaps, Gods willing, in 
the future, we can explore those dreams then, Sango.�

His smile broadened, a crescent of mirth against her skin.

�Providing you�re willing to throw me against a tree and tear my robes off 
then.�

�Aa!� Her shocked outrage was only matched by the flush that went from brow 
to collarbone, and he reveled in it. Closing his eyes, he nestled close 
against her, relaxing his grip over his cursed hand, allowing his palm to 
lay over her breast, feeling the beat of her heart.

�I do love you, though,� he admitted hesitantly.

�I know,� she replied. �I was just waiting... for...�

�For what?�

�For a little intimacy.�

He arched a brow. �If you wanted intimacy, Sango�

�Not that kind of intimacy, Miroku.� Sango said with a flush. �I meant, 
being honest with me... Letting me know�� She floundered for a moment, and 
then sighed, �Something. Anything. Anything at all.�

�Ah,� he uttered softly. �Perhaps I should improve upon my verbal 
communication skills,� he noted.

Silence lingered between them, and Sango did no seem inclined to leave the 
warm cocoon of his robes, and Miroku would not relinquish the circle of her 
embrace. But finally, Sango broke the silence with a wary question.

"Are you truly going to stay with us?"

"Yes."

"Even though..."

"Yes, Sango." He smiled slightly, and then added, "Three years apart is 
nothing compared to a year at your side."

She smiled slightly, and then said, �See? You can speak how you feel, if 
you try.�

�Perhaps,� he said.

The silence returned, for as long it was safe. Both knew they couldn�t 
stray too much longer; while Inu-Yasha and Kagome were hardly known for 
being respectful of the pair�s privacy, they knew they had a little time 
alone. And they made it last, as much as they could.



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