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All Hiei wanted to do was sleep.
After an exhausting day of fighting groups of lesser demons attempting to ambush Kurama on his way home from school, and an afternoon of trying to patch up not only his cloak but fix the chips in his blade, sleep was something he’d earned. The harmonious chirping of crickets, rustling of leaves, soft howling winds, and the warmth of Kurama’s room despite his place beneath the window — it’d all been worth it. Or so he thought. The fox was in bed as usual but unlike most nights, he simply wouldn’t rest. Turning over every so often. Soft sighs or shifts beneath the blanket that was grating to Hiei’s ears.
Hiei opens his eyes slowly and the slivers of moonlight help him adjust to the shadows lingering in the dimly lit room. Once again, Kurama shifted and Hiei sighed. Sitting up with his back to the wall, he drew his knee to his chest and crossed his arms atop of it.
“You’re thinking too loud, Kurama.”
Kurama’s movements came to a halt but the blissful silence that Hiei wanted was charged. He wouldn’t be able to sleep like this. There was a restlessness beneath the fox’s skin and his thoughts were unbearably loud.
“Did I wake you?” Kurama asked, his voice far too clear for someone who should’ve been asleep. Hiei glanced up at the clock and huffed at the time.
“What are you struggling with?” Hiei asks, glancing over as Kurama turned to face him, green eyes bright in the darkness.
“I thought I talked too much.” Kurama says, far too cheeky for his comfort.
Hiei’s eyes narrow and the thread of his patience is pulled taut just as it always is with him.
“You do.” He declares, feeling a prick of annoyance at the way Kurama hides his mouth beneath the blanket. He’s smiling and Hiei wants to ask why but there is only so many arguments they can have at one time. “But if you keep your thoughts hidden, you’ll suffer.”
The words sink into the air around them, growing thick and mixing with the tension, palpable and Hiei is certain that he could cut it with his sword. Green eyes study him and search his person for something. And though he’s used to Kurama’s scrutiny, he refuses to falter, clenching his jaw and keeping his eyes trained on the ones that find him even in the dark.
“Are you worried about me?” Kurama asks thoughtfully, a curious lilt to his words but the look in his eyes speak of something else. For a moment, Hiei is speechless. No, all he wanted was to descend into a dreamless sleep.
There were precious hours between now and sunrise, even more than now and the time Kurama would leave for class. The fox needed his rest but with his mind so wound up, neither of them would find sleep.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Hiei scoffs, resting his chin atop of his folded arms.
“I am trying to understand something about you.”
Hiei isn’t sure what to say to that. Admittedly, it happened often. Kurama asking him about pieces of his life, making needless conversation, and Hiei giving clipped answers. All he required was his strength — not his companionship. Yet the fox extended it every time heedless of the dangers. Sentimentality would only harm him in the end, a warning that Hiei gave, but Kurama brushed it off with a smile. It wasn’t like him to be this direct. Was it because Hiei asked?
“I think that the answer is obvious to you, you just don’t want to say it aloud.” Hiei points out. As much as it unnerves him, Kurama seems able to pick apart nuances of his character. It makes their arrangement stronger but it brings him too close for comfort. “You’re afraid of what’ll come after.”
Kurama says nothing but he shifts in his blankets, pulling them tighter around his body, almost as if he’s trying to protect himself. Hiei hates to admit that he’s curious of what the fox feels threatened by.
“When did you become so adept at reading me?”
“When did you begin to reveal yourself enough so I could?”
This back and forward with Kurama is a part of their arrangement. A battle of wills. An exchange, the fox had taken to calling it. An annoyance if Hiei’s opinion counted. There was no need for Kurama to understand anything about him. They were allies for the time being and that was all. Once Hiei’s purpose was fulfilled, he’d return to the Makai and Kurama could continue his life as he chose.
“What are we doing, Hiei?” Kurama asks, and though the words are spoken quietly, they’re loud in the silence.
Hiei tilts his head to one side, unable to glean an understanding, but he can only infer that Kurama doesn’t mean this talk. “I could ask you the same.”
“You know what I mean.” Kurama declares and Hiei huffs, pressing his back to the wall as he sat up. “Why do you protect me from lesser demons when you know that I could handle them?”
The reason for the interrogation is lost on him but if it satisfies Kurama’s curiosity and ends this standoff between them, he’ll oblige. Giving the question thought, his mind wanders back to the morning. Demons didn’t join together under grounds of territory and egos. To see at least six of them plotting to ambush Kurama was both a restatement to the fox’s strength and an insult.
Did they really think they could defeat Kurama?
Hiei wasn’t sure if he felt anger towards their ignorance or the slight against the fox’s being, and the latter left him more confused than the former. Regardless, their death was necessary.
“Per our agreement.” Hiei declares upon finding the words.
Kurama doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer by the pinched look on his face as he pushed back his blankets. Hiei stiffens up, muscles tensing as the fox sits up with his blankets pooling in his lap. There’s an imploring look in his eyes and he’s no longer searching but he’s found a foothold. Hiei tries to think of his misstep but Kurama gives him little time.
“Why do you sleep in my room rather than the trees?”
“It’s warm.”
“The cold doesn’t bother you.”
Hiei almost regrets the talks they’d had over their heritage. Allowing Kurama to know of his mixed-heritage only gave the fox ammunition but he was insistent and their arrangement was fragile. There were some secrets that he kept close to his chest but others seemed inconsequential. He’d have to rethink that line of thought now.
“Fortified, then.” Hiei counters, feeling the plants and fauna around them preen at being acknowledged.
This conversation is odd. It feels as if they’re arguing but they’re not. Like they’re stepping forward and backward in a dance with Kurama being close to something while he’s pulling away. Even with this distance between them, the fox feels too close for his comfort. Kurama turning to face him with his hands resting in his lap, eyes trained on him, and Hiei unwilling to look away in kind.
“What are you looking for, Kurama?” Hiei asks, tiring of this cryptic conversation and the knowing look in the fox’s eyes. He has this habit of pretending as if he understands Hiei’s mind, he’s too familiar with his person, but any advantage Kurama has could be a disadvantage to himself.
“An understanding.” Kurama says, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Why do you care about what I think?”
Hiei tilts his head slightly. “What makes you think that I care?”
“You never ask anything without a reason, Hiei.” Kurama points out. Hiei isn’t sure if he is relieved that the fox knows of his preference for questions or unnerved that he’s this close. “You never do anything without a reason.”
Hiei feels the twitch in his jaw and glances aside. “I see the way that you observe the humans who walk in pairs.”
It’s Kurama’s turn to look caught off guard, to observe and try to glean an answer from his person, to understand the meaning behind his words. If they’re going to have this talk then broaching the topic is necessary. Hiei tells himself that but it doesn’t help the stammer of his heart.
“Many humans walk in pairs, Hiei, there’s no difference.” Kurama says evenly, keeping up his mask of calm and his control.
“You lie.” Hiei glares at him, insulted by his flippancy and disregard for his own intelligence, his gall to lie. He may not have been as well-versed on the Ningenkai as Kurama but he knew things. “The ones who appear as partners, show affection toward one another, the ones who desire closeness and have gained it with another being.”
There is something in his observation that strikes a chord in Kurama. His shoulders squaring and chin raising, arms folded across his chest, and even though he’s in a human vessel with softer features — those eyes are sharp and he carries the airs of a dignified demon insulted by accusations of its being. Something stirs in Hiei’s chest but he ignores it. This battle is growing dangerous and he’s shown some of his hand.
Cornering a fox is dangerous and he’s certain that he’s stepped into the fray.
“What makes you think that I observe them and how would you know?”
“How do you think I found the lesser demons waiting to ambush you on the bridge once your admirer was within range of their trap?”
Kurama’s eyes widen and there’s a myriad of emotions there.
“You were spying on me.” Kurama accuses, spitting the words venomously. Hiei shakes his head and revels in the fox’s confusion.
“I believe the term is watching your back.”
Kurama doesn’t say anything in response to that and Hiei is unsure of what he said to lessen the ire in his eyes.There’s a softness there and he almost seems resigned, his shoulders falling and hands returning to his lap.
“I could have handled them.”
Hiei huffs. Didn’t he think that he knew that? He did it so that Kurama wouldn’t have to. For all of the fox’s pride, he seemed to be far too fixated on things that were beneath him. They were in an arrangement of convenience. Kurama provided shelter and wisdom, Hiei provided a steady blade and a swift hand. It was simple.
“What are we, Hiei?” Kurama’s voice is soft and when Hiei mets his eyes, he seems almost hopeful yet with a tinge of something else. Hiei couldn’t fathom what he was looking for. What vulnerability he was trying to display to garner an answer. Information. It was unthinkable. Their arrangement was simple, Kurama knew that, and yet he was striving for something else.
“You’re asking me, but I think you have something that you want us to be.” Hiei notices the way that Kurama tenses up at his words but decides against it. It wouldn’t help to spook or corner him.
“So tell me, Kurama.” Hiei pushes up to his feet, resting his hands in the pockets of his cloak. “What do you want us to be?”
There’s silence for a moment and Kurama’s eyes are drawn away from his own, looking over his being, openly staring and appraising. Searching. Finding. It’s unsettling but he says nothing and neither does Kurama. The fox moves from the edge of his bed, lying closer to the wall and shifting the pillow slightly so that his head can rest on one end as he lies down. Hiei tilts his head as he watches Kurama burrow beneath the blanket but instead of tucking it beneath him, the side which he left is left open and the blankets folded down.
Hiei stares at the space. Unsure of the gesture but when Kurama shifts again, glancing at him from over his shoulder, it says more than either of them could put to words. Carefully slipping his arms from his cloak and hanging it on the back of Kurama’s chair, his boots tucked beneath the fox’s desk with his sword set aside. The floor cold beneath his feet as he walks closer, glancing from Kurama to the bed itself then back.
The fox doesn’t move but he isn’t sleeping. He’s waiting.
And this is an invitation.
To what? Hiei isn’t sure.
Another facet of their arrangement? Perhaps.
Kurama’s answer? Far more likely than he thought.
Sinking down to sit on the bed’s edge, Hiei reached for the blanket left unoccupied and slowly lifted it, bringing his legs up to rest on the mattress and easing back to lay his head on the other half of the pillow. Kurama doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t say a word. But the press of his youki is felt against Hiei’s own and long after Kurama falls asleep, Hiei is awake.
He wonders what this is and what is becoming of them.