I Fought with You Once Upon a Dream by aimee_blue [drabble#75]
Title: I Fought with You Once Upon a Dream
Author: aimee_blue
Prompt: All Purpose
Words: 835
Genre: General, Hurt/comfort
Rating: M
Warnings: Nudity
Summary: CU.Sometimes it takes a different perspective to reveal that something has been missing for a long time.
Sitting down behind her easel, Kagome couldn’t quite believe she’d allowed her friends to talk her into this class. A step up from still life painting, she’d been coerced into attending a more skilled class - life painting.
The thought of painting someone in the nude didn’t really bother her as much as it should. Instead her hang ups were more to do with doing the subject justice. A pomegranate wouldn’t protest being painted wonkily, but a human certainly might hold it against her. She still wasn’t convinced she was good enough for this class and had just about gathered up enough courage to tell the instructor, when Ayumi caught her eye and smiled her best all purpose pleading smile that worked on everyone from ornery old men to tantrum throwing toddlers.
The artsy young woman had been beside herself at Kagome’s grudging attendance. Ayumi truly loved painting and Kagome knew that her friend had the kind of passion that was enviable. Eri and Yuka, on the other hand, had probably come to ogle naked flesh. She could see them behind their neighbouring easels, already speculating over the gender of the model.
Sucking in her plea for escape, Kagome attempted to settle down. She could totally do this. She’d battled demons. Gotten lost in time. Been swallowed by a void and talked to a malicious bauble. She’d faced a twenty foot tall poisonous dog and vanquished an evil hanyou. She could totally deal with treating a human being with as much detachment as an orange.
The woman holding the class asked them to welcome the model, but Kagome was too busy trying to calm herself down to grasp his name. But, when he strode into the room, she was promptly struck dumb.
Of all the things that could have happened, this was not what she had expected.
Long silver hair swung over a bared shoulder as the model shrugged off his yukata, revealing that the magenta stripes adorning his haughty cheekbones had twins twined around his hipbones and ankles. Golden eyes were just as bored and just as probing as ever and as he met her stare, not an ounce of recognition flickered in those orbs.
He’d somehow disguised his ears and claws and mokomoko-sama was nowhere in sight, but this was unmistakably, unbelievably, undeniably Sesshoumaru.
Sitting in a room full of humans.
Absolutely naked.
Distantly, she reflected that he had an amazing bottom and that his clavicles were perfectly lickable, but she shook her head as if to remove water from her ears.
It was possibly one of the most surreal moments in her life. Right up there with being dragged down a well by a centipede demon into the past. She blinked. Glancing at Eri and Yuka, she found them to be deep in a whispered conversation about the hotness of tattoos. Wincing, she bit down on the urge to tell them he could hear every word; a normal human would not be capable of the same feat, but she knew he had to hear every gossipy word. It was a wonder that the room wasn’t filled with the sweet scent of his poison.
Robotically, she picked up her paintbrush and painted. Staring at the veritable naked Adonis sprawled out for perusal, she remembered.
0-0-0
Quickly, but not so quick as to raise suspicions, Sesshoumaru - now fully clothed - strode down the corridor, escape within his reach. He needed to get out of there before those blasted women who had been discussing him as if he were a slab of meat caught up with him. He shuddered and, once again, despaired at the fact that he couldn’t kill them. Not if he wanted to maintain his camouflage.
“Sesshoumaru-sama, wait!” a female voice bid him.
Pausing despite himself at the sound of the honorific he had in the past taken for granted, he turned to see a young woman running towards him, holding her canvas awkwardly. Ebony hair framed her face in a boisterous halo of springs and her blue eyes beseeched him to stay. At least she wasn’t one of the women who had been sizing him up.
“Yes?” he asked guardedly.
When she stood merely a metre away from him, she stopped, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. He was about to walk away from the strange human, but she turned the canvas to face him. The paint was still wet and her work wasn’t flawless but the image made his heart stop.
It was a portal into the past.
In her painting he stood, mokomoko-sama over one shoulder, his armour over the other. Bakusaiga rode proud on one hip, Tensaiga decorated his sash. His eyes burned with the intensity that he hadn’t felt in so long, his claws gleamed with his dokkaso.
“Hi,” she mumbled. “It’s been a while.”
He met her gaze with desperate golden eyes. This girl, now a woman, was the priestess.
“Kagome,” he rumbled.
A sigh of relief. Two hearts began to beat again, in the tentative rhythm of reunion.
Author: aimee_blue
Prompt: All Purpose
Words: 835
Genre: General, Hurt/comfort
Rating: M
Warnings: Nudity
Summary: CU.Sometimes it takes a different perspective to reveal that something has been missing for a long time.
Sitting down behind her easel, Kagome couldn’t quite believe she’d allowed her friends to talk her into this class. A step up from still life painting, she’d been coerced into attending a more skilled class - life painting.
The thought of painting someone in the nude didn’t really bother her as much as it should. Instead her hang ups were more to do with doing the subject justice. A pomegranate wouldn’t protest being painted wonkily, but a human certainly might hold it against her. She still wasn’t convinced she was good enough for this class and had just about gathered up enough courage to tell the instructor, when Ayumi caught her eye and smiled her best all purpose pleading smile that worked on everyone from ornery old men to tantrum throwing toddlers.
The artsy young woman had been beside herself at Kagome’s grudging attendance. Ayumi truly loved painting and Kagome knew that her friend had the kind of passion that was enviable. Eri and Yuka, on the other hand, had probably come to ogle naked flesh. She could see them behind their neighbouring easels, already speculating over the gender of the model.
Sucking in her plea for escape, Kagome attempted to settle down. She could totally do this. She’d battled demons. Gotten lost in time. Been swallowed by a void and talked to a malicious bauble. She’d faced a twenty foot tall poisonous dog and vanquished an evil hanyou. She could totally deal with treating a human being with as much detachment as an orange.
The woman holding the class asked them to welcome the model, but Kagome was too busy trying to calm herself down to grasp his name. But, when he strode into the room, she was promptly struck dumb.
Of all the things that could have happened, this was not what she had expected.
Long silver hair swung over a bared shoulder as the model shrugged off his yukata, revealing that the magenta stripes adorning his haughty cheekbones had twins twined around his hipbones and ankles. Golden eyes were just as bored and just as probing as ever and as he met her stare, not an ounce of recognition flickered in those orbs.
He’d somehow disguised his ears and claws and mokomoko-sama was nowhere in sight, but this was unmistakably, unbelievably, undeniably Sesshoumaru.
Sitting in a room full of humans.
Absolutely naked.
Distantly, she reflected that he had an amazing bottom and that his clavicles were perfectly lickable, but she shook her head as if to remove water from her ears.
It was possibly one of the most surreal moments in her life. Right up there with being dragged down a well by a centipede demon into the past. She blinked. Glancing at Eri and Yuka, she found them to be deep in a whispered conversation about the hotness of tattoos. Wincing, she bit down on the urge to tell them he could hear every word; a normal human would not be capable of the same feat, but she knew he had to hear every gossipy word. It was a wonder that the room wasn’t filled with the sweet scent of his poison.
Robotically, she picked up her paintbrush and painted. Staring at the veritable naked Adonis sprawled out for perusal, she remembered.
0-0-0
Quickly, but not so quick as to raise suspicions, Sesshoumaru - now fully clothed - strode down the corridor, escape within his reach. He needed to get out of there before those blasted women who had been discussing him as if he were a slab of meat caught up with him. He shuddered and, once again, despaired at the fact that he couldn’t kill them. Not if he wanted to maintain his camouflage.
“Sesshoumaru-sama, wait!” a female voice bid him.
Pausing despite himself at the sound of the honorific he had in the past taken for granted, he turned to see a young woman running towards him, holding her canvas awkwardly. Ebony hair framed her face in a boisterous halo of springs and her blue eyes beseeched him to stay. At least she wasn’t one of the women who had been sizing him up.
“Yes?” he asked guardedly.
When she stood merely a metre away from him, she stopped, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. He was about to walk away from the strange human, but she turned the canvas to face him. The paint was still wet and her work wasn’t flawless but the image made his heart stop.
It was a portal into the past.
In her painting he stood, mokomoko-sama over one shoulder, his armour over the other. Bakusaiga rode proud on one hip, Tensaiga decorated his sash. His eyes burned with the intensity that he hadn’t felt in so long, his claws gleamed with his dokkaso.
“Hi,” she mumbled. “It’s been a while.”
He met her gaze with desperate golden eyes. This girl, now a woman, was the priestess.
“Kagome,” he rumbled.
A sigh of relief. Two hearts began to beat again, in the tentative rhythm of reunion.