Sesshomaru adjusted his tie, frowning when it still remained crooked in the mirror, no matter how many times he fixed it. Kagome laughed behind him, her hands coming up to fix it from his side. He frowned down at her when the tie managed to stay straight after she took her hands away. “Why is it,” he asked, “that you can do this right when I can’t?” “Despite 100 years of practice?” Kagome teased, smoothing her hands down his shirt. “Hmm, I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Sesshomaru reached with one hand, still elongated, fingers ending in claws since he had yet to wear his glamour, and flicked her on the nose playfully. She scrunched her face up, pouting. This time, he was the one who found amusement at her expense. He moved away from the large mirror in their walk-in closet (a must that Kagome had insisted they acquire when they redid the house fifty years ago) and walked into the bedroom towards the dresser that housed important papers and perfumes, and, perhaps most important of all, the watch that hid his features away from the world. “Can you stay like this for a bit?” Kagome asked leaning against the doorway separating the closet from their bedroom. “I just want to see you like this for a little while longer.” Sesshomaru glanced behind him at his mate, his lover, his wife, his partner, his everything, for the past five centuries (and counting). There was a softness in her blue eyes, an emotion in them he’d seen there many times, but not recently. Nostalgia, she called it. A love for the past was his preferred term. He approached her, his socked feet padding across the tatami—he refused to carpet his floors—until they came to a stop in front of her. One hand came up to caress her face, the other found purchase on her back as he used his arm to draw her closer. “What is it today?” He asked, fingers brushing her cheek. “Nothing really.” He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed, relenting. “Today is the day that we went into hiding for the first time.” His fingers stilled on her face. He remembered the day by the season and the time. Kagome remembered it by the date instead: August 26, 1642. His kind had been hunted for years, the humans fearing these beings who were more powerful. It was a cycle he’d come to understand and expect. But, when the humans upgraded their weapons, when they threatened those he held dear, he had to make a choice. That year, as the sultry summer evenings gave way to cool nights, he had led Kagome to his private abode in the mountains, a home he had built just for them to last them their lives. And he’d shown Kagome his first glamour. The object causing the glamour had changed over the years, the person behind it too, and even the person who was created as a result of it. But the one thing that remained constant was that Kagome stayed by his side. “For you,” he stated, using the hand at her back to tug her closer, “you know I would do anything.” She smiled, leaning close to whisper two words against his lips. “I know.”