It started at breakfast. InuYasha reached out to grab a pickle off of Kagome’s tray.
She slapped his hand. “No!”
He put on this best pouty face, which his wife ignored, but let it go.
Later, after doing a check around the village, he came home to find Kagome kneeling on the wooden floor, a bucket and rag in her hand.
“No, don’t come in yet. I’m mopping!” she said as he sat down on the edge of the raised wooden platform.
“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured, stood up, and went back outside.
About midday as he walked up the path from Miroku’s, Kagome was in front of their house, madly scrubbing clothes in the wash tub. He sat down and watched her work.
After several minutes of silence, she brushed a wet hand across her nose to dislodge a hair that had slipped out from underneath her scarf. “What are you doing?”
“Just watching,” he said. His stomach grumbled.
Kagome sighed. “No lunch yet. I thought I’d try to get all the laundry hung up first.”
His right ear twitched, but he didn’t say anything. After a bit, he got up and walked off.
The day was getting late. InuYasha put away his splitting maul, through for the moment with chopping firewood. Picking up an armful of wood, he took a deep breath, steeled his shoulders and walked into the house. As he moved inside and added the wood in his arms to the stack, he was struck first by the smell of dinner cooking, the smell of rabbit and rice and onion, but under it all was the smell of salt tears.
He looked around the small house. Instead of sitting by the fire pit where she cooked, Kagome was sitting in the corner of the room curled up, her hands covering her face. He dashed across the room, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her between his legs. One hand settled on the gentle swell of her abdomen, as if protecting her and the child she was carrying, and one arm pulling her close to his chest.
“What’s wrong, Koibito?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
“N... no,” she said, turning slightly in his arms, resting her cheek against his chest. He ran his hand in soothing strokes along her hair and arm. “This must be what Sango was telling me about, about how my mood would swing with the baby. All I knew is suddenly I missed you, and I had been mean to you all day. How can you stand to be around me?”
She looked up at him, her eyes red and damp. He kissed her forehead, then kissed her gently on the lips, and pulled her closer. “Feh,” he said. “No place I’d rather be. Why’d you think I kept coming back?”
They stayed that way for a while, enjoying their reconnection. Finally, InuYasha asked, “Can we eat now?”
For some reason, Kagome found this funny, and began to giggle. “Only if you promise not to steal my pickles.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the hanyou replied. Kagome got up and walked back to the fire pit. Content that for the moment that all was right with his world, he added pickle theft to the list of things not to do to a pregnant Kagome, and sat down to enjoy his dinner and the company of his wife.