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Worry creased his brow at the muffled groan coming from the other end of the room. Looking up from the textbook he’d been reading, Hiei frowned at Kurama’s hunched shoulders, his head resting in his hands as he once again dropped his pencil in mid-motion. On his count, that must have been at least the sixth time that the redhead stopped in his attempts to finish his homework. Slender fingers traveling a familiar road from the study materials splayed across the desk to the short-haired boy’s temple, and the surge of youki, faint but apparent sent a jolt through Hiei. It was a marvel to know that the boy who sat across from him was the Legendary King of Thieves, Youko Kurama.
All the stories that he’d heard of the youko ended in the same sordid way. His untimely demise. To know that the stories were wrong and that he had somehow become a part of his life was not only intoxicating but worrisome. Loneliness had tethered him to the idea of moving quickly, becoming a fleeting shadow even in the eyes of those he cared for, a lack of attachment was necessary for survival. And yet, he’d been here for some time, unable to traverse through the weakest points in the barrier separating the Ningenkai and the Makai in his current state — Kurama’s human home was his refuge.
It didn’t help that he felt the increasing debt owed to him. From his mother’s acceptance of Hiei’s place in their home and his existence in general to Kurama allowing him to sleep in his room, oft in his bed where Hiei’s sword was hidden beneath amidst the plants that the fox kept hidden. He gave him shelter, often ensured that he ate, and the fox’s conversation while abundant was also not unpleasant. Deducing that this feeling of worry was from his ever-growing debt to Kurama, it eased his mind to rise from his place on the far-side of the fox’s bed, shutting the book he’d been reading and walking over with featherlight footsteps as not to disturb him.
Kurama seemed sensitive to noise and the heels of his hands pressed flush to his ears, the tips of them tinging pink with the amount of force. Hiei’s lips pinched together and he reached out, brushing his fingertips along Kurama’s wrist before curling his hand around it, lightly pulling it away. The youko tensed at the touch then glanced up at him as he guided his other hand away, looking down at him with a face devoid of expression.
“Fox,” he muttered, lowering Kurama’s hands before he released them. “Take a break.”
The look on Kurama’s face, wide-eyed and mesmerized, was something that he was unaccustomed to. Green eyes that reminded him of the greenery around the room and the depths of the Makai, and red hair that felt soft to the touch as his fingers brushed against Kurama’s own when he pulled his hands away from his ears. Looking eye to eye, Hiei felt a wave of calm but the fox winced and pressed his fingers to his temple, taking a deep breath.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, turning back to his work, and Hiei frowned.
“You’ve been stopping every fifteen minutes,” the fire demon pointed out, laying his hand on Kurama’s notebook, obscuring the notes he’d been writing. The fox glanced at him with a flicker of annoyance but Hiei wouldn’t be deterred. “Your head is causing you trouble but you try to assuage it by directing your youki to the nerves to numb the pain.”
Kurama’s eyes widened and he brushed his fingers against his temple, glancing from them to Hiei, the fire demon folding his arms.
“However, it relents as soon as the youki pull wears off.” Hiei’s eyes narrowed and he leant forward, searching the fox’s face for the familiar signs of pain. His illness must have been worse than he thought with the way that his face was tinging pink. “Human painkillers must be ineffective because of your body’s chemistry, they run out too quickly.”
Though he knew that Kurama was in pain — to know that he was becoming resilient, overcoming this human form, becoming more of what he was even if he had changed — it made him feel proud. He wasn’t quite sure why but he admired the fox’s resilience. Somehow, he’d managed to cheat death. Surely, this wasn’t enough to stop him. Kurama’s gaze flicked from his eyes to lower and Hiei raised a brow when he looked away. If the fox’s intention was to continue his work then he would find himself deeply inhibited.
“Now that you’ve figured all of that out, what are you trying to say?”
“This pain will pass—” Hiei said, taking one end of the notebook and flipping it shut despite Kurama’s weak protest, his hand lying flat on it to keep it from being opened again. The fox shot him a glare and Hiei met his gaze head on. “ --- faster if you rest.”
“Hiei, I said—”
The fox looked close to putting up a fight but the pain overcame his voice and he winced. Hiei felt something tug in his chest and he eased his hand from the book. Kurama’s head slightly bowed, he didn’t notice the fingers brushing against the top of his head until they rested at the back of his head. Curling in short red hair and a gentle pull made him lift his head, meeting Hiei’s eyes. If the fox was well, he would’ve been able to stop him before he even touched a single hair on his head. Hiei frowned. Kurama’s face was so red .
This couldn’t be good.
“Kurama, you aren’t well.” Hiei said, easing his hold on the fox’s hair, smoothing down the ruffled locks. “I am not demanding, I’m—”
“ Asking ,” Kurama practically breathed the word in amazement and the glimmer of something in his eyes gave Hiei pause.
The fire demon knew how to ask others for things. He simply didn’t like to. Doing for himself was better than relying on someone else or being in their debt . Yet somehow, he’d found himself in the redhead’s and he still loathed to ask him for most things. Kurama often knew what he wanted without saying, gave to him without asking for much in return, and it was maddening. He was always waiting for the day that the fox cashed in on all of the asks that he’d answered.
“A short break wouldn’t hurt, I suppose,” Kurama muttered, averting his gaze from Hiei’s as he neatened his desk.
The fire demon felt unsure of what to do with himself now. Lowering his hand to his side, he took a step away from the desk then glanced towards the window. It was growing colder outside and if he were to head out in this weather, he wouldn’t be bothered but it would be unpleasant. Going to retrieve his book, he glanced back at Kurama as the fox rose from his chair then tucked it beneath his desk. The tinge of pink lingered on pale skin and he rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down on the bed’s edge then lying back. Hiei raised a brow. He knew that if Kurama rested like that then he would be in pain later.
“Further, fox,” he said and Kurama glanced at him before shaking his head. “Kurama—”
“Will you lay with me?”
The request was a simple one and yet Hiei tilted his head as if he misheard, eyebrow raised. “Why would I do that?”
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” Kurama said, gesturing to the bed with a slight tilt of his head. “And you seem tired yourself.”
Hiei frowned. He wanted to argue that he wasn’t tired. That this was Kurama’s bed and not his own. That sleeping next to the fox wouldn’t help his current state. However, he made the mistake of looking into Kurama’s eyes and felt all of the reasons and admonishments melting away. He sighed through his nose and undid the fastenings on his cloak, going to put the book back with the fox’s other schoolbooks.
“Further on the bed, and beneath the blanket, fox.”
He didn’t have to look to know that Kurama was smiling. But hearing the rustling of the blankets, the fox shifting and settling in bed gave him a distraction. He set aside the book, folding his cloak and laying it over the back of his chair. There was a slight chill to the air from the world outside and Hiei knew that it might not have been easy on Kurama. In his human form, he was susceptible to ailments and cold tended to bring those in droves. Lifting the blanket, the redhead glanced over his shoulder at him and his eyes widened as Hiei slipped beneath it, letting it settle on his side as he turned to wrap his arm around Kurama’s middle.
The redhead turned onto his back and Hiei thought to tell him to quit moving and rest but then the redhead was on his side, and the words were forgotten. Looking eye to eye, his hand resting on the small of Kurama’s back and the two of them sharing a pillow, it was different . Closeness that he hadn’t come to attribute with the fox. They often slept facing away from one another, sometimes with the blankets bunched between them or Hiei would forgo sleeping beneath it considering that the cold didn’t bother him. Yet now, beneath the same layer and staring eye to eye with him, he felt… odd.
Kurama stared at him, searching his face for something , and once he’d found it — he smiled. “You’re welcome to do this whenever you like, you know.”
Hiei huffed. They’d already established that it would be believable to his human mother for him to sleep in a bed and the futon that they’d laid in the room went unused, so it was returned to the guest room. Of course he knew that he could sleep next to Kurama. It wasn’t as if he posed a threat and the fox had no reason to attack him. However, he felt that wasn’t what he meant at all.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, fox.”
“I’m making a promise I know I can keep.”
He seemed oddly insistent about this and there was a look in his eyes. The gentle warmth in his smile, genuine and confusing, made Hiei weigh his options quietly.
“You’re not well.”
“Yes, but I am sane.”
That was true. Kurama was conscious enough to know of his surroundings, deduce that Hiei’s findings were correct, and make the appropriate decisions. Why would he not be coherent enough to voice his thoughts and opinions on this ?
“When you mean this …?”
As if to accentuate his point, Kurama’s arm shifted beneath the blanket and his hand brushed against the back of Hiei’s wrist. His pulse jumping at the touch and the fox smiled at him. The touch itself was pleasant. Warm and familiar. Kurama’s fingers brushed against his wrist again, trailing up his forearm and to his bicep where it deviated to lay against the middle of his back. Everywhere he touched left a trail of tingling, Hiei’s nerves going haywire and trying to find where the fox would touch next, leaning into his hand.
There was a chance that Kurama was not as sane as he’d mentioned. That he would come to regret this. But the warmth was intoxicating and the fox’s smile goading.
“...Whenever I want?” Hiei asked, eyebrow raised.
“Whenever you want.”
Ah, it sounded too good to be true but there was a light fluffy feeling in his head as he leant into Kurama. The fox’s eyes, half-lidded and darker, were pretty up close. A flicker of pain crossed his face but it melted away as Hiei pressed his fingers to his lower back, letting the surge of his youki course through and up Kurama’s spine. It would find its way to his head and the redhead’s eyes shut.
Somehow, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t charmed by this. Kurama’s face relaxing, the tension in his muscle easing as he sighed and nestled his face against the pillow. Hiei’s hand splayed across his back, warming soft supple skin, and the fox’s hand resting on his arm curling against his bicep in a loose hold. Something was happening. Of that, he was aware. They were changing — becoming what, he wasn’t sure.
However, Kurama was closed.
Latching onto him.
And it wasn’t unpleasant .
“No matter the reason?” Hiei muttered, inching closer to share a breath with him.
The closer he was, the less chilled the fox would be, the easier he would be able to rest. Somehow, all of those words felt like excuses.
“You don’t need a reason,” Kurama muttered, and his eyes opened. “It can be simply because you want to.”
Because he wanted to. Something that simple. Hiei wanted to say that he often did things because he wanted to , that he didn’t need someone’s permission but those words might’ve started a fight. He didn’t want to fight Kurama, not in this sense at the very least. Pressing his fingers to the small of the fox’s back, Hiei hummed low in his throat.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t complain when you regret it later.”
Vibrant green eyes, shining with an emotion that he couldn’t place, and another he knew well — satisfaction. Kurama smiled widely, nestling his cheek against the pillow. “I don’t feel that will be an issue,” he said, cupping Hiei’s shoulder as a playful smile crept across his lips. “Hiei?”
He knew that smile and that tone . He tensed at the sound, eyes narrowing. “Kurama?”
The hand cupping his shoulder pulled and Hiei moved with the guidance, eyebrow raised. “What are y—”
His eyes widened, for a second, all he could see was green. Soft lips pressed against his own at an awkward angle where their noses bumped uncomfortably. Kurama’s eyes slipped shut and Hiei’s were open, his nails dragging along the fox’s lower back as his fingers curled into fists. Tilting his head slightly to fit their lips together, his nose brushing against Kurama’s as he pressed closer to him, the world dimming to black as he relaxed and his eyes slipped shut. His clenched fist eased, palm pressed to Kurama’s back as he leant into him, chasing the taste of roses. If he kissed him hard enough, he was certain he’d taste something reminiscent of the Makai, and he could take his time finding it.
Everything was a blur. In the foggy haze, he thought about the redhead’s condition but everytime he moved to pull away, Kurama’s lips would brush against his own and he’d be dragged under. Blunt nails dragged along the nape of his neck and he sighed, a shudder quaking his form and shivers running down his spine. Brushing their lips together, Kurama moved away and Hiei sighed. When his eyes opened, everything was hazy and silver around the edges but Kurama was crystal clear.
“Don’t hesitate if you desire things of this sort,” Kurama muttered, the pain that lingered in his face was gone but there was something else in his eyes.
Hiei scoffed, his eyes narrowing and focus alternating between the curve of Kurama’s lips and his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that his hand was warmer than usual, and that the softness of the fox’s skin was pressed against his palm. Knees settled on either side of Kurama’s hips, his fingers idly tracing shapes on the back of Hiei’s neck, they were closer but it was still much.
“And what do you get out of this?”
A moment of silence, a charged weighted tension hanging in the air between them, a myriad of emotions in green eyes that flickered too quickly from one to the other for Hiei to follow.
“You.”
Hiei scowled, the idea was repulsive. “I’m not a thing to be kept, Kurama.”
“No,” Kurama assured, but whether he was refuting Hiei’s thought or his words, the fire demon wasn’t sure. The fox’s touch, his fingers brushing against the side of his neck, slipping into the small hairs at his nape, beguiling and distracting. “But you’re someone to be loved and cared for.”
Hiei’s eyes widened. Kurama, tense and patient, stared up at him expectantly and it was as if the world was still.
“...Do you accept my terms?”
Eyes closing, Hiei leant down, his answer lost between their lips and Kurama’s soft sighs filling the silence.