Devotion that Withstands Time

Note- This story is AU, in which that Kagome never goes through the well when she's fifteen. Plus, a different ending occuring between Inuyasha and Kikyo. In present day, demons and humans live among each other more or less peacefully.

Note 2- Canon characters will be whored in usage like a pair of your favorite old jean shorts on a hot day. OC's will be used when there's no canon to fit that certain place.


Summary- Nearly two years into marriage and honeymoon hasn’t ended yet, but does it have to? Between weddings, anniversaries and work the love will always hold strong. But when Inuyasha’s true past and heritage surface will it endure? Inu/you WIP,M/F,Lemon,Lime


Part Five
A Day in the Life of…




You leisurely walk down the aisle with a grocery basket on your arm while going down a short mental list of items that needed to be bought. You glance down into the basket thoughtfully before grabbing a bag of potato chips from a nearby rack and dropping it in. Your mind drifts reluctantly from thoughts of appreciation of the less than crowded store to the activities of that morning. Things only become worse and worse as minutes passed.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Hot water gushes powerfully from the shower faucet to the slippery, white floor of the bathtub sending steam throughout the small bathroom. Inuyasha stood before the sink with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and the bottom half of his face lathered with shaving cream. He wipes the fog away from the mirror with his hand and carefully begins to shave. You sat on the edge of the bathtub guiding a razor over your soapy legs with ease.

The morning activities had been set on pause when Inuyasha entered the shower with a rough shadow of hair over his features. After much insisting on your part, Inuyasha had left the shower to search for his shaving cream and not wanting to hear his grumbling later you grabbed your own shaving gel and razor. It wasn’t as if you needed to, with Mandi’s wedding approaching next week most of the bridesmaid’s would probably be hassled into getting a wax or something to that affect.

You hum and rinse the remainder of the suds from your legs, and step out of the shower to dry off. You grab another towel from the rack and wring out the excess water from your hair before stepping behind your husband and rubbing his shaven cheek with a gleaming smile.

While Inuyasha was still shaving, you exit the bathroom and to the kitchen to prepare breakfast; very much comfortable in the soft and warm fabric of your robe. Your smile brightens, glancing at the kitchen table on entrance and remembering the previous night’s events as a faint flush colors your cheeks. The bottom of your slippers clap lightly against the freshly mopped tile floor as you approach the refrigerator; pausing after opening it, to pull out the essentials for that morning: vegetables, sausage, eggs, and raw fish for Pan.

You leave the food on the counter beside the stove and ready a frying pan for eggs. Having waited patiently for the pan to heat up, you grab a couple eggs from the carton and lift your hand over the edge of the skillet to crack one, but pause feeling a wet nose sniffing and licking your ankle. You shift the eggs in your hands to pick up the plate of raw fish you retrieved from the refrigerator, and turn looking down to wish the creature a good morning and a happy breakfast before your breath catches in your throat; your eyes seeming to widen in horror.

Having finally finished shaving, Inuyasha dries his face off with a towel and tosses the cloth carelessly over the edge of the tub. He scans his reflection more closely, rubbing his fingers over his cheek and checking for stubble. Frowning he reaches out to grab his razor, but freezes at the scream piercing through the whole apartment.

The kitchen door flies open and slams against the wall with a deafening bang and Inuyasha rushes through the doorway, towel holding on very helplessly around his waist. In an instant, his eyes set on his wife who was now perched on top of the kitchen table in a position he would have taken advantage of if it wasn't for the obvious distress you were in. Your head snaps towards the door at his arrival, eyes wide with alarm and seeming to be clutching a frying pan and spatula for dear life.

“___…” He steps forward, and pauses besides you.

Your attention snaps back to where it had been previous to his arrival, intently watching the floor before the stove where several eggs lay cracked in a gooey mess along with a saucer and piece of raw fish. A few seconds later a small furry creature crawls out from under the crevice of the stove and sniffs at the raw fish and eggs.

His brows furrow as he watches the creature lick at the raw eggs. He steps forward and picks up the pest by its tail and lifts it up to eye level. He moves near his wife, but you quickly scoot back farther onto the table frowning at the small, dangling, furry animal struggling for freedom.

“W-what are you doing just standing there holding it? Kill it or something!”

He frowns, "you're afraid of it? It's more afraid of you than you are it, and starving too."

"I'm not afraid of it! It was licking me and about to bite me! Normal, frightened mice don't do that!" You protest, rubbing your molested ankle. You frown, eyeing the rodent distastefully, "do something with it, it's filthy!"

He grunts, walking over to the kitchen window and tossing the small animal out. "There, happy? Now get off the table and make breakfast."

You slide off the table, still holding onto the spatula securely. Nearing him, you frown, "Yeah, but-" You gasp and make a swipe with your spatula at the small, furry creature suddenly crawling over his head. The creature cleverly dodges and avoids the blow, jumping towards the floor just as you whack Inuyasha in the head with the spatula.

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, the mouse was-"

The half demon was already focused on the small vermin scurrying on the kitchen floor. He takes off after the small creature just as it scurries off into the next room. You weakly wonder how the small rodent got back in with such a small crack in the window, but then dismiss the thought and follow him warily into the next room.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Half an hour later several pieces of furniture were upturned, Pan was once again walking with a limp and the mouse was no where to be found. During the ‘mouse chase’, one of the neighbors had come over questioning the source of the racket and you had learned that a pack of mice had been openly harassing the inhabitants of the apartment for the last few weeks and it seems that now, the pack had just made it to the fourth floor.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Mice. Why mice? You are not the type of woman to scream and jump on chairs and tables at the appearance of such small, weak creatures- no matter what Inuyasha may think now, but you didn’t think you’re that bad at cleaning to deserve hungry little mice scouring the floor for crumbs. Now you have to make sure the apartment is twice as clean to shoo away the little pests.

A determined smirk appeared on your lips as you approach the entrance to the cleaning aisle of the store. A small smirk that seemed unnerving to a frowning and bemused half demon who was now approaching you with a small selection of mouse traps.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Pan sits nestled in a comfy, warm blanket very much put off about being dropped inside a box with food, water, toys, a small fluffy blanket and a pillow along with its litter box. Why is this kitten put off? Because it had been tossed into box like a hamster, with no way of escape, or watch TV. Sadly, the kitten at the moment isn’t that much of an agile, frisky kitten, but with being spoiled so much by its owner, how could it? And in a box playing with its most adored plaything, it isn’t that big of a box and the fumes coming from the excessive cleaning its owners are doing aren’t very pleasant either.

Nearby Inuyasha had just finished sweeping the floor, which would have been a fairly easy task if he hadn’t spent most of the day cleaning. Since the apartment wasn’t too roomy, it would seem that cleaning shouldn’t be so complicated, but not when he’s being threatened to clean every nook and cranny. And especially when it’s already clean, in his opinion anyway. He sets the broom back into the closet and approaches the bathroom door where his wife was set on purifying.

The odor of lemon scented cleaning products greets his nose at the door, followed by the site of you on your hands and knees very forcefully scrubbing the tiles. He smirks and kneels behind you only to be squirted in the face with water from a plastic water gun. You turn and shake your index finger at him admonishingly with a small smile.

“I found it in the closet when I was cleaning. Thankfully, there wasn’t any mice poop.” You turn back to scrubbing the floor.

He frowns about to retort, but pauses when you turn to him again. “Bring Pan for his bath, please.”

His retort seems to die on his lips as you beam at him, moments later he gets up and walks out in pursuit of Pan while grumbling about slave drivers and mice.

Your smile widens, “Oh, and bring my whip, too!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Nearly an hour later, Pan is comfortably nestled under its soft and fluffy blanket unaware of the annoyed glare a half demon was sending it from the couch. Holding his hand gently, you spray the disinfectant on the last scratch and apply the band-aid. You hum looking back at the other band-aids attached in sort of a pattern over his skin, including the scratches that weren’t deep enough to need band-aids. You frown looking from the light scratch on your hand to the other on the side of his cheek. Funny how one irate and wet kitten had the strength to fight against a loving owner and a half demon and be able to slip out of the bathroom twice in the thirty minutes?

“All done,” you say and kiss his other cat scratched-less cheek.

“Damn cat.” He mutters looking down disgruntled at the cartoon character printed band-aids on his hands.

“I tried to warn you, Pan’s been terrified of water for a while now.” You say sheepishly while packing the band-aid box and disinfectant back into the first aid kit.

“And mice.”

“It’s probably just a phase, he’s still a kitten.” You say looking hopefully in the direction of the kitten’s box.

He scoffs, leaning over and laying his head in your lap. You smile and run your fingers through his hair lightly and turn your attention to the late night show on the television. He sighs and breathes in your scent, which he partly recognized from the lemon scented cleaning product from the bathroom, your own individual scent and… Blood? He frowns, tilting his head to your stomach to pick up more of the scent that seemed to be coming distinctly from- oh…

He looks up at you not surprised as you stare down with an arched brow and a light flush across your cheeks. He should have known from the beginning when you decided to clean the already clean apartment. Not that brownies and chocolate bought from the store earlier were sort of a hint. Now it would only be a matter of time before-

“I’m going to go take a bath.” You lean down and kiss him on the lips gently before standing up and walking into the direction of the bathroom. “There’s still leftover pizza in the refrigerator.”

“Yeah,” he sits up and lays back down over the couch turning his attention back to the television.

Several minutes later, he yawns and changes the channel back to some cartoons that you were watching earlier. His ears twitch slightly, hearing the spray of the shower turn on, and the squeak of the knobs as the temperature was being adjusted. He yawns, and pushes himself off the couch and stretches leisurely as he walks to the bathroom.

He momentarily listens to the pauses in spray of water before opening the door and walking inside. You turn and look at him curiously through the shower curtain before turning back to lathering your hair with shampoo. He unzips his pants on the way to the toilet and flips up toilet lid and does his business with a sigh. Not particularly listening, you quickly and thoroughly rinse the shampoo out of your hair.

“Don’t flush!”

Your demand was too late as the flush of the toilet came and a freezing rain of water poured down on you mercilessly. You scream for the second time that day and leap to get out of the downpour of ice water, right out of the shower. Your feet hit the floor with a wet clap, along with a splash of water whipping from your hair and you yelp once again as your mind pauses in mid chants of ‘oh shit’ as your feet slip across the squeaky clean and wet floor.

Your wet, bare body seems to start to do a dive forward as you flail your arms trying to find your balance or grab onto something. Luckily all your thoughts of bleeding to death on the bathroom floor come to a halt as you crash into Inuyasha, who had just been standing in front of the toilet for the last few seconds watching you leap, slip and glide across the floor screaming bloody murder all wet and naked in surprise, amusement and a bit of arousal.

They crash into the floor in a wet heap… You shiver burying yourself into his now moist warmth, and from taking the majority of damage from both collisions, he slides his eyes closed and rests his head heavily against the floor where it had been slammed at the fall. Seconds later, he’s pulled from his dip into unconsciousness at the feeling of stiff, moist nipples pressing against his abdomen through the wet fabric of his t-shirt. Feeling you shivering lightly, he instinctively wraps his arms around you tightly, drawing the stiffening nipples to slide farther up his front.

At the murmur of his name he slides his eyes back open and glances upwards to meet the concerned eyes of his wife, who was now sliding your fingers into his hair and reaching around rub on the back of his aching head.

“Are you ok? It sounded like you hit your head pretty hard.”

He shakes his head slowly, allowing a small smirk to twitch over his features while you frown softly, tracing your fingers over the bruise on the back of his head. He sighs as the throbbing pain at the back of his skull slowly dulling by the fingers massaging over the bruise. He sits up and pulls your hand away from his aching head.

“If I knew that all I had to do was to flush the toilet for you to jump out the shower and maul me…”

You roll your eyes and push yourself off of him to stand up. “Blame the pipes.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he says eyeing a bead of water trailing down the skin of your front.

“Well,” you turn your back to him and kneel in front of the tub to turn off the shower spray. “If you ever do that purposely you’re going to end up taking more cold showers than hot and it’s not going to be because the toilet’s flushing either.”

“Right,” He answers though having stopped paying attention to what you were saying pretty much from the start.

You sigh, turning on the nozzle of hot water for a bath and grabbing a bottle of bath oils and bubbles and pouring a liberal amount into the water. You turn to him, quirking a brow and grab some hair bands from the counter of the sink, well aware of his heated stare seeming to be memorizing the details of the beads of water still drizzling down your skin.

You frown, “if you’re just going to sit there…” You kneel in front of him and reach behind him, pulling his hair into a high ponytail and wrapping a hair ban around it. “There, now you can join me.”

You get up and band your own before quickly turning off the hot water and stepping into the bath. With a soft sigh you sink slowly into the bathwater, submerging yourself to the tip of your chin, and blowing a few bubbles away from your face. You glance over the edge of the tub at the dazed-looking half demon still resting on the floor. It would better if they both didn’t go to bed with the lemony fresh scent of the bathroom floor with them and you figured he’d probably pass up showering until the next day or sometime…. Better for the both of you and the bed sheets.

“What are you waiting for? The new bath oil smells so nice.” You close your eyes and sink deeper into the water. Seconds later, you hear a grunt, and a few light thumps as clothes hit the floor.

“This stuff smells like flowers.” He grumbles.

“It’s supposed to, it’s flower-scented.” You slide your eyes open to see him half-stripped and standing beside the tub sniffing the open bottle of flower-scented bath soap suspiciously.

“It says it softens, energizes, and relaxes your skin and muscles. I feel soft and relaxed already.”

“And it makes you smell like flowers, this stuff is for girls.” He says frowning at the flower-scented soap.

“So? I’m not asking you to take a girly bubble bath and telling you to get in one with me. There’s a difference.”

He sets the bottle back onto the sink. “No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there is. Unless you ignore the lonely, nude body beside yours, though I guess not smelling like flowers are a lot more terrible than taking a bath with your wife, you know the one that you almost knocked out with a chair this morning when you were chasing a mouse?” You response jokingly wistful.

“I said I was sorry.” He mutters, glancing away. “And that chair missed you by two feet.”

“You mean if I didn’t duck, right?”

“You hit me with a spatula this morning.” He says, rubbing over his head where the cooking utensil hit.

“It was an accident; a mouse was on your head. Just be glad I wasn’t holding the skillet.” You defend sniggering.

“Then we’re even.” He says evenly, trying not to think of what it would have felt like if it was the skillet. He wordlessly sheds the rest of his clothes and joins you in the tub. “One life-threatening injury covers for another, right?”

“But it was just a spatula…” You say, sitting up and noticing the sudden lack of space in the tub. “But doesn’t getting hit with a skillet feel a bit like busting your skull open against the floor?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you go get the skillet and I’ll compare.” He says wryly.

“Ok, I’ll go get one in a minute, metal or cast iron?” You shift smiling eagerly. “I didn’t know this tub was so small.”

“It looks bigger when we’re standing up.” He says shifting around to get comfortable. “Move over here.”

“It looks smaller over there,” you complain, but move anyway and position yourself to sit between his legs.

The water is hot and calming along with the soft fragrance of flowers and you feel the most content than you have been all week or maybe all day. Too bad it’s a rare occasion for him to be as willing to take flowery, bubble bath. Romance, to him, is probably only a word to call a genre for movies he doesn’t like. Of course, he did sweet things for you, which was mostly on holidays, your birthday, and the certain times when you were pissed at him. And even if he couldn’t tell the difference between the romance in pressing you up against a brick wall in a dark, grimy alley or taking a hot, candlelit bubble bath, you didn’t expect him to. However, taking a hot, bubble bath together sometimes is nice, so he would have to eventually learn the difference.

“See, isn’t this nice?” You settle back against his chest comfortably, “it’s like being in a field of flowers, except for the nakedness and the water part.”

“Yeah, makes me feel all warm and fluffy on the inside.” He says dryly, and leans backwards to rest against the back of the tub.

“Me too,” you murmur and close your eyes. Feeling him relax, you frown and rub his thigh underwater before pinching a good portion of his flesh between your fingers and fingernails.

“Shit! What the hell was that for?” He grunts irritably, moving away from your fingers.

“For flushing the mother fuckin toilet, you son of a bitch,” you answer snapping out your renewed annoyance with curses.

“It was an accident, damn it.”

“That was, too.”

“…Violent,” he grumbles, only to be ignored.

“…What did the landlady say?” You ask remembering his stop and chat with the landlady and your way back from the store.

“The terminators should be on the fourth floor by the end of the week or the next.”

“No, I’m not talking about that, she always has a new phrase to describe your ass, what did she say about your ass?” You ask eagerly.

“…And the pipes are going to wait for a few weeks.” He adds ignoring your question.

“But what did-“

“And if they get here next week, we’re going to have to give her the key because we won’t be here next week, right?”

“Right,” you smile and remember the upcoming holiday, “Their having the wedding right on Valentines Day, right in Mandi’s hometown, and the next year they’re going to be celebrating their anniversary and Valentine’s Day on the same day. It’ll be so special.”

“Ha, two gifts in one day, that guy obviously wasn’t thinking ahead.” Inuyasha mutters, glad your anniversary wasn’t the same day.

“What was that?” You twist around to partly face him.

“Nothing,”

“Right, but since our Valentine’s Day is going to be in France, and the wedding just may take up all of our time there, maybe we should wait to celebrate it entirely until we get back home,” you suggest, “I’m sure we’d never get to be alone, and it is Mandi’s father’s house anyway, and it’d probably be a bit disrespectful to make love there.” He frowns, and nods reluctantly.

Coming from the same woman who nearly broke the button of his pants off to give him a blow job in your own parent’s house, disrespect was a joke. And from hearing the words “time”, “wait”, “entirely”, and “alone” he suddenly remembered what it felt like when they weren’t married and you declared that you weren’t going to have sex (again) until your wedding night.

And from the look in his eye you remembered the time between the engagement and wedding when you stopped having sex for the time being. And at one point afterwards he started acting twitchy until you had sex again, which incidentally wasn’t on your wedding night. You file the memory away along with his reaction to ponder on later.

You kiss him on the side of the lips and move back to your original position, reclining against him. He sits up as you recline and drapes his arm over the side of the tub. Minutes pass by slowly, along with the temperature of the water, and you’re both left to your own thoughts. You start to drift to sleep, listening to his heartbeat, but wake up feeling his hand wandering over your skin.

“Inuyasha,” you murmur, and set your hand on top of his under water.

“Hm?”

“Iron buns?”

He sighs.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Coupled by a light peeking in from the half opened door of the bedroom and the sound of someone fumbling noisily through a drawer, Inuyasha wakes up. He notices that the space next to him in bed is empty along with the blanket that was on top of the bed, which was probably why it felt so cold all of a sudden. He sleepily gets out of bed and stretches grumpily noticing that the digital clock on the bedside drawer displayed 5:47 AM in large, neon red numbers. He follows the source of the noise, which happens to be inside the bathroom.

Grumbling about the ungodly time of the morning, the lack of the rising of the sun, and the goddamn early birds who happened to be awake and catching their goddamn worms- he pushes the bathroom door farther open and glares inside to find his wife rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He frowns and leans against the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“My pills… Pain reliever, I can’t find it.” You mutter moving from the medicine cabinet to the cabinet under the sink.

He frowns at the blanket draped over your shoulders, disregarding your hair that was messily poking out at a few odd angles. He narrows his eyes trying to concentrate his sleep muddled brain to remember the events that occurred two or three days ago.

“That woman… Omaedo, Omido, Omodo something, from somewhere down the hall came over Saturday and borrowed them.”

“…So she has them now?”

He pauses and scratches behind an ear, “no, the cap was open when she gave them back and they fell over and spilled out.”

“How come you didn’t tell me this yesterday when we went shopping?” You ask slowly, turning away from the cabinet towards him.

He yawns, “I forgot.”

You look up and glare at him crossly, promising an act of violence to occur in the next five minutes. “Get me my pills. Right now.”


~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Later in the morning, you sit in bed contently drugged up with a bottle of your favorite pills fresh from the drugstore. Inuyasha walks into the room and carefully passes you a can of hot tea before sitting on the end of the bed in front of the TV, which had been moved into the room last night as an alternative to sleeping. You pop the drink open and take and sip.

“Thanks for going to the drugstore to get my pills; I’m sorry I was being mean earlier.” You say sheepishly.

He lies down and folds his arms under his head watching TV. “It’s fine.”

“And for making breakfast, it was delicious.” You say smiling at the thought of his moderately burnt and runny eggs and meat.

“Right, so you’re feeling better?” He asks glancing back at you.

“Mmhm, I feel so very calm and relaxed now.” You smile softly.

“…How many pills did you take?”

“Only the directed two on the label,” you reply and set your can of tea on the nightstand. “Isn’t it the weather nice today?” You comment, smiling sweetly as the sunlight took that moment to sprinkle through the curtains and shimmer over your head like a halo.

He turns his attention back to the TV. A calm and cheerful ___ is better than a pissed and growling ___, one too many pills or not. “It’s 60° below.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t it be a nice day for a walk the park?”

“Sure.” He yawns.

“Hey, why don’t we go out today?” You suggest and pause at his silence. “…Inuyasha?” You slip out from under the blanket and crawl beside him, and closely watch the slow rise and fall of his chest along with the slight twitch of his ears.

He seemed to have fallen asleep. You didn’t blame, he had got up at 6 AM, on the second day of his vacation and jogged to the nearest open drugstore to get pain-killers, for you. Instead of reaching to pinch close his nose in irritation of him falling asleep on you, you touch his cheek lightly and push a stray lock of hair from his face.

From the relaxed expression on his face you inwardly reminisce about your years in college. In the last few years you both had come a long way from the times he used to fall asleep on your old water bed and when you were unsure of where the relationship was going to take you next. He’s still the guy, who could fall asleep at the passing of any few meager seconds in any conversation, but you weren’t the same person who tried to smother him out of irritation of him falling asleep, or feel guilty and in denial by simply wanting to watch him sleep.

You lean forward and kiss him gently, before sliding out of bed unbuttoning your pajamas, and walking to the closet. Unaware of a certain pair of eyes sliding open to watch, you kick off your pajama pants and rummage through the closet, moments later the half demon’s eyes slides shut just as you turn around with a fresh pair of pants in hand.

And by far, unlike those few long years ago you could feel for certain that your feelings had become mutual.