Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or Pepto-Bismol. I am making no profit from this work of fiction.
AN: Unedited as of right now. Hope you enjoy! And let me know if you have your own story about a man in your life acting like a big ol' baby too!
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In the cool dark room, he attempted to rest. Upon a lavish bed of pink florals - his mates idea - he groaned his suffering. There curled onto his side he lay with his body wracked in excruciating pains. Although she tried to keep a straight face, Kagome had to admit at least to herself, that she was beside herself with worry. The immovable demon lord she loved so much was positively devastated by his affliction. Never before had she seen him in such a state, not even when Inuyasha had severed his arms five hundred years prior.
Curled in on himself and rocking side to side, a most pathetic canine whine escaped his lips. Kagome’s worried expression softened into one of compassion as she sat beside her mate and gently stroked his silken silvery hair from his sweating brow.
“Its time Sesshomaru. Sit up for me?” she asked softly as she helped him upright. The demon lord seized the opportunity to let out a helpless whimper. As anticipated she gobbled it up, cooing softly to sooth him.
Attentively she propped him up on freshly fluffed pillows and adjusted the duvet around his waist for him, before she leaned over to his night-side table. He watched her warily as he continued to grasp his stomach, laying on thick his misery.
Kagome seized a triangular shaped bottle, and dosed its contents with a large spoon. She twisted, turning to face her suffering male while presenting to him the source of his relief. “Okay... open wide for me!”
Miraculously, as if forgetting his malady he grew silent, his face twisted into an expression of disgust, with one side of his lip curled up over a white fang. He eyed the gummous liquid, which stood out threateningly in a color agnate to the spilled innards of his foes - bright pink. The shade itself was enough to cause another bout of crippling pain to wreck his midsection.
Groaning in his discomfort, Sesshomaru turned his face to the side, blithely refusing the spoon which Kagome lifted to his pursed lips.
“Please Sesshomaru? It will make you feel better, I promise!” Again, she tried to serve him his relief, in the form of a pink drink. Again, he turned his head away, amping up the intensity of his groans.
Kagome’s eyes narrowed shrewdly at her mate. Seriously. Did he think her a complete fool?
“Cummon Sesshomaru,” her warning tone did nothing to persuade him, and instead of taking the spoonful, he attempted to curl back onto his side.
“Don’t even think about it mister! Up with you!” He leveled her with a glower, impressive for one supposedly so imbued with pain.
“I will not ingest that vile concoction woman! Its... pink.” He spat his command with intense venom.
Kagome raised an eyebrow and propped her empty hand on a curvaceous hip.
“Really,” her tone warned him of impending trouble. Sesshomaru gulped, fearful of his mates wrathful temper. “You certainly did not mind ‘ingesting’ pink foods when you snarfed down an entire box of my strawberry Pocky this morning! Maybe your tummy ache will make you think twice before you try that again. Now. OPEN!”
Grumbling his acquiescence, lest he meet with the full force of her ire, he righted himself upon their bed and opened his mouth. He made sure to do so with a deep scowl, letting her know of his obvious displeasure.
His smug mate lifted the spoon to his lips, administering a generous dosage of the vile pink liquid. He swallowed, squishing his face in abhorrence to the strong flavor which coated his tongue, throat, and then stomach. Violently, he shivered and stuck out his tongue in a childish display of his dislike for the taste.
Kagome rolled her eyes, unsympathetic. “Its just Pepto-Bismol! Besides, its cherry flavored,” she elaborated as if that excused her grievous violation against his sensative taste-buds.
When he simply glared at her in reply she relieved herself of a long restrained huff of frustration. Fluidly she stood, smoothing out her pale pink dress and giving him a cool aloof gaze which had even him impressed. Sharply she turned on her heels and left, mumbling under her breath, clearly forgetting about his demonic hearing, or more likely... not caring.
“Aristocratic Assassin. Demon Lord. Killing Perfection. Feh! Men are such babies when they are sick!”