Drabble for msbbt.
From this meme, the original request being Miroku+Sango platonic. A little bit of romance snuck in at the end, but... if you don't want to interpret it as being romantic, it could work as a "just friends" fic, too. Hope you enjoy it!
Frost on Her Fingers, Fire in Her Heart
He’d held her hand a few days ago, just after she’d joined him and his party. It was meant to have been a reassuring touch, she knew, but it had had the opposite effect on her, for it had made her spring away instead.
His hand had been cold, in such a way that she never thought skin could be. The chill had been a lightning bolt through her senses, a dart of frost across her fingertips, an icy wind that had blown right through her.
That right hand had been, to her, cold like death.
But he always manages to surprise her, this monk; he’s always hiding something behind his billowing black sleeves.
When he holds her hand again, it is just the two of them, awake in the middle of the woods, tending the fire. They’ve been talking about small nothings, staring more at the fire than at each other, and then suddenly he reaches to his side and finds her hand with his.
She gasps at how warm it is, how a mere touch like that has made her whole heart burst into fire.
And then she looks down and realizes that he’s holding her with his left hand, with the hand full of life, full of hope.
“Houshi-sama…” she says.
He responds by taking up her other hand, and she shivers at the remembered feeling.
“Yes?”
The question hangs.
“…your hands are cold.”
And they sit at the fire and talk of small nothings and do their best to warm his hands.
I also think I've figured out what the headaches I've been having are. I'm almost certain that they're caused by me using the computer too much. I'm really going to limit myself from the Internet someday.
Frost on Her Fingers, Fire in Her Heart
He’d held her hand a few days ago, just after she’d joined him and his party. It was meant to have been a reassuring touch, she knew, but it had had the opposite effect on her, for it had made her spring away instead.
His hand had been cold, in such a way that she never thought skin could be. The chill had been a lightning bolt through her senses, a dart of frost across her fingertips, an icy wind that had blown right through her.
That right hand had been, to her, cold like death.
But he always manages to surprise her, this monk; he’s always hiding something behind his billowing black sleeves.
When he holds her hand again, it is just the two of them, awake in the middle of the woods, tending the fire. They’ve been talking about small nothings, staring more at the fire than at each other, and then suddenly he reaches to his side and finds her hand with his.
She gasps at how warm it is, how a mere touch like that has made her whole heart burst into fire.
And then she looks down and realizes that he’s holding her with his left hand, with the hand full of life, full of hope.
“Houshi-sama…” she says.
He responds by taking up her other hand, and she shivers at the remembered feeling.
“Yes?”
The question hangs.
“…your hands are cold.”
And they sit at the fire and talk of small nothings and do their best to warm his hands.
I also think I've figured out what the headaches I've been having are. I'm almost certain that they're caused by me using the computer too much. I'm really going to limit myself from the Internet someday.