Work Text:
They start a routine sometime during Kazuma's first semester away at school.
It's casual enough, and Shizuru finds she doesn't mind that even despite her brother's absence their cramped little apartment never has any less than three people in it—usually it's just her, Yukina, as the most recent permanent installment of the Kuwabara household, and Atsuko, who spends most of her time disengaged and yelling at the television while she nurses her daily two packs, one after the other. The handbooks all say that chain-smoking isn't really a great way to divert the urge to drink, but it keeps her from making any repeat performances of that time she threw a solid glass ashtray right into the back of Hiei's skull, so no one brings it up, even if Shizuru thinks Atsuko's favorite brand smells like stale cat piss when it settles into the chintz of their old couch.
And then, sometime around four in the evening, the population expands. Suddenly it's Keiko, toting a sack of rice and a plastic container of cookies that everyone will spend the next four hours fighting viciously over. More often than not, she's tired and compromised from a full class load, but Shizuru thinks she handles Yusuke's long stretches of silence with more grace than the little shithead probably deserves, so she doesn't embarrass her by bringing up the valiant bags under her eyes and the adorable little rumples in her cardigan. Then it's Botan, and any sundry youkai she brings along, and there are never enough seats for all of them so they have to manually delegate floor cushions once everybody sits down for dinner or people start to fight, and after the last night both Hiei and her brother had been in the living room and all of the fire alarms in the building had ended up going off, Shizuru had quietly vowed to set a cap of two small-scale squabbles per day.
Most of the time, she makes it.
Yukina and Botan are excellent at diffusing tense situations, and there's nothing that can't be settled with a hasty game of Bullshit, which is great, because Shizuru won't entertain the idea of ever spending another two hours scrubbing youkai blood out of her carpet. And even if they've gotten more noise complaints in the last two weeks than anyone ever has in the history of that building, Shizuru can't bring herself to be too annoyed by the constant current of people running in and out her door—the youkai are surprisingly gracious when they're over, the dishes are always clean by the end of the night, and any broken furniture is promptly replaced, which is all she cares about.
It's a quiet, frosty October evening when Yukina lets Botan in, and then excuses herself for the night. Kazuma makes it a point to make time for her at least twice a week, and so far he's kept it religiously. With Yukina in the house, Shizuru supposes she should be more vigilant about making them observe a curfew—she had failed being a parental, guiding presence for him, why should they both fail Yukina?— but she's pretty sure that of all the crap-ass things her brother could do, an unplanned kid is at the bottom of that list. She resolves to be more worried about the possibility when he gives some sign he's mentally any older than twelve.
So Shizuru settles for waving Yukina off from the couch, idly undoing her tie and tossing it into a heap on the coffee table, right beside their new, plastic Doraemon ashtray.
"Hello, hello!" Botan chirps from the genkan, sliding off her sneakers and moving to set down a bag of conbini food on a kitchen counter, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a blouse that looks like something Keiko picked out for her on one of their summer shopping binges. "Oh—where is everyone?"
"Looks like it's just us tonight," Shizuru replies around her cigarette, standing and moving to the mini-fridge hidden in a corner of her own bedroom closet. Atsuko's conspicuous absence means they can drink, which is a luxury Shizuru's not wasting on feigning politeness, though she does toss a can of Asahi plucked from its plastic holder at Botan as she brushes past to reclaim her seat. Botan hesitates a moment, but cracks the top open and follows suit, primly folding herself into the seat beside Shizuru, a tiny berth of space between them. "Kazuma will probably come around with Yukina once their movie's over, I don't think he has enough money on him to take her out to eat anywhere."
"Young love," Botan sighs, a wide grin lighting up her face, and while Shizuru knows intellectually that she's sharing a drink and couchspace with A Bona Fide Grim Reaper, she finds she's never anything but charmed by Botan's strength and accessability. "And Atsuko...?"
"I think she's off seeing some guy about a baseball pot she won a couple days ago." Shizuru takes a drag, then a sip, and Botan fishes the remote out from the crevice between the couch's arm and cushion, and begins to flip channels. "Which means she'll either come back flush, or we'll have to post her bail when she gets arrested for beating the shit out of some poor sap."
"I've still got a great arm and a baseball bat," Botan laughs, though Shizuru knows she's entirely serious. She's a firecracker, every bit as sweet and unassuming as Yukina, but equal parts an immortal whose familiarity with death renders her completely fearless in the face of adversity—Shizuru could never decide if she was bananas, or if the gravity of her work had helped her learn to compartmentalize her life in such a way that sitting here, doing nothing, is her preferred way to spend downtime. And sometimes she thinks to ask, or indulge in the little shreds of imprudent curiosity that tell her to ignore the creepy feelings she gets when she thinks about it too long and ask what Botan's job entails, and how she gets it all done in the span of a few measly human hours, but she never really wants to know. Some mysteries are better left alone.
They sit in amicable silence, not-really-watching NHK and drinking and trading work stories, though all Shizuru has to offer is some interesting exchanges with handsy old bosses when she worked as a drink girl at a pachinko parlor while Kazuma was in elementary school. Botan is just as selective about the ones she tells; even the one about escorting off a particularly serene old man who had greeted her laughing brings a flash of profound sadness into her expression.
"I don't ever forget the ones who go on unafraid," she murmurs, smiling at their collection of crumpled beer cans haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table. Shizuru rearranges her legs, and two go clattering down to the floor; Botan's cheeks are pink, and she's clearly a little looser around the mouth than usual, but Shizuru finds her candor refreshing. "A lot of them cry, or beg, and it never gets easier, telling them that I can't do anything for them. The ones who go on satisfied with the lives they've led are impossible to forget; I remember all their names. Every one."
Shizuru doesn't know how to respond. Botan is clearly talking more to herself than to Shizuru, and interrupting her stream of consciousness seems kind of cruel.
Luckily, the door opens, saving the ignominy of scrambling for a smooth transition. Lacking every ounce of the self-awareness Shizuru knows better than to expect from her little brother, Kazuma crashes through the doorway, followed shortly by Yukina, then Kurama, and then, after the group has advanced into the apartment enough that there is room to ensure he won't have to physically touch anyone in the cramped space of the entrance hall, Hiei, who appears to only be around by virtue of some unresolved territory issues with the man whose family his sister has taken up residence with.
The ancient weight leaves Botan's face, and she hops up, clearly trying to negotiate her sense of balance around her current level of intoxication; Shizuru helps by reaching out to steady her until she has her equilibrium, and then watches her bounce off to greet everyone. Yusuke's absence is just as conspicuous as his mother's, but it's an occupational hazard they've all learned to bear.
Shizuru lights her third cigarette, and decides that the boys can figure out what to do about dinner.
They end up back on the couch together, but with the advent of four other guests to compete with for space, Botan ends up crowded half on top of Shizuru's knee, far beyond contributing to any conversation more complicated than simple declarative statements, much to everyone's amusement. Kurama gently hands Shizuru a slice of some chocolate cake they've gotten from god knows where, and folds himself cross-legged beside Hiei on the floor, and they go back to trading snipes that completely sail over Kazuma's head. As someone who founded the sport of chipping at the younger Kuwabara's ego, Shizuru can only half-grin and enjoy the show.
"Shizuru, I think..." Yukina's voice cutting through the individual threads of chatter is somehow louder and more commanding than Kazuma's natural half-shout volume, her voluminous sweater dwarfing her shoulders as she sits propped up against the opposite couch arm and her face luminous from being out in the cold. Shizuru's not sure Hiei's been doing too great a job pretending he hasn't been staring all night, but her natural obliviousness seems to work in his favor. "...I think Botan's fallen asleep?"
Shizuru shifts her gaze back down to Botan at her side, and it's more to confirm what she had passively already known. Botan's eyes are shut and her body is boneless against the elder Kuwabara, and Shizuru just thinks, Shit, I hope nobody needs her to be anywhere right now. They've been on the Reikai's shitlist one too many times for her tastes, thanks.
"I can transport her back, if this is an imposition," Kurama offers mildly, pushing his sleeve away from his wrist to look down at his watch. "I'm not expected back for a few hours."
A gust of sharp autumn wind makes the loose pane of the single living room window rattle a little, and Shizuru frowns, deliberating. "Nah," she says finally, slipping one arm under Botan's knees and anchoring herself on her own heels as she stands and prepares to move. "She's a lightweight, it's better if she sleeps it off here."
"She's not taking my room!" Kazuma squawks, indignant. Shizuru just rolls her eyes, unable to salute him with both her arms monopolized in keeping Botan in her grip, and has to settle for a withering look shot over her shoulder. For a half-second she thinks Kurama is preparing to rise to help, but apparently thinks better of the potential insult to Shizuru and returns his attention to Hiei, who is studiously ignoring anything but the remaining pieces of karaage on his plate.
Confident Yukina is a suitable chaperone for everyone left behind, Shizuru moves slowly down the hallway to her own bedroom, gently kicking the door shut behind them and shuttling her elbow up the wall until she feels the light switch catch. The bulb flickers on and off a few times before it comes to life, and she makes a mental note to change it eventually, the same way she's done every time she's turned on her bedroom light in the last four months. Whatever, it'll hold out.
Getting Botan down onto the low bed is something of an ordeal, but Shizuru moves slowly, haltingly reaching up to undo her ponytail when she's settled and incidentally halfway under a comforter. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thinks: she cards her hand through Botan's hair until she's sure there will be no snares in the night, and Botan shifts, and she's apparently not so out of it that she doesn't notice Shizuru's indulgent motions. Frozen in place with panic—shit, fuck, what if Botan thinks she was aiming for something weird?—Shizuru can do nothing but meet her slightly bleary-eyed, half-asleep look, and pray.
Botan only laughs a little, and with a physical strength Shizuru had all but forgotten about, hoists Shizuru down onto the mattress beside her, and Shizuru doesn't want to think about how terribly they're going about this, how skeevy this is going to look in the morning, whether Botan is still half-dreaming: those thoughts go silent when Botan pushes her face close, and there are lips against hers, and when the lightbulb above them finally dies and with it Botan sinks back into her dream, all Shizuru can think is, If I died and you had to take me now, I'd go smiling.
Botan takes the lapel of her vest in her hands, and just inches closer.