Perspective

This fic is… odd. I can't say I know where it came from, but it's rather grown on me, so here goes.


"So where are you going this time? Over there again?"

That question was all it took.

To stand here with his sword at Yuusuke's throat was natural—predictable. He had warned the detective, a long time ago, knowing such to be a waste of breath. Few ever heeded his warnings, and Yuusuke heeded no one's.

Yuusuke stood perfectly still, though out of respect, not intimidation. He had frozen in mid-gesture without a single betraying twitch in any muscle, not blinking, breathing slowly and easily as though this happenstance were as comfortably inevitable for him as for Hiei. His eyes showed how much he had matured since their first meeting, for they mirrored no confusion, being solemn and clear and very belatedly aware of what he'd earned and why. He obviously wanted to speak, but did not, allowing the fire demon the first move.

"You won't be given another reminder," was all Hiei said.

"I didn't mean it that way." He spoke the words evenly and without expression, only after a lengthy pause.

As expected. "Don't lie."

Yuusuke's head moved fractionally from side to side in a gesture of denial. "No, really. Go where you want. Do what you want. I'm not stopping you." The motion stilled as his teammate's weapon tilted closer to skin.

"Don't give me your permission," the imiko sneered. "It isn't yours to give."

"I know that." Long association had taught Yuusuke many things about hiding; his eyes were empty now, no longer giving anything away. "I promise. That isn't what that was."

"Then what was it?" It came out cold, biting, and challenging—a manner of speaking more than a tone, used most often when talking to those Hiei considered contemptible and beneath him. He let it emerge that way, and knew even despite the flat patina in Yuusuke's eyes that it had been recognized.

In turn, Yuusuke's explanation was uncharacteristically curt. "I just wanted to know. It's nice to know where you're at sometimes, since we're sleeping together and all. I didn't mean anything by it."

Hiei knew better. He'd had enough of this.

"Don't. Lie."

A precise thrust of the sword punctuated the demand, just enough to barely break skin and draw blood as a wordless reinforcement, and Hiei flickered away, taking with him the bundle he'd brought.

-o- -o- -o-

Yukina shook her head, smiling an apology. "No, I don't know where to find that. Perhaps Kurama would be able to help you better?"

-o- -o- -o-

"Don't come here, Hiei," the fox told him, calmly gathering his now-damp red hair in a loose grip, combing his fingers through the tangled mass.

Hiei looked up sharply from shaking out his cloak. "Don't come here," he repeated, just to be certain he had heard correctly.

Kurama eyed him levelly, as aloof in this dishevelled state as he would be in battle. His youki was at work behind him, a plant uncurling and beginning to clear all scent from the air, erasing the traces of their activity. "Don't worry," was the reply, "that wasn't a rescinder of your standing invitation." Here he paused, just long enough that Hiei knew to prompt him to explain the obvious contradiction.

Stupid kitsune and their maddening games.

"Then you're baiting me," he retorted tersely, resuming the task of clothing himself, determined not to humor that ridiculous, unspoken demand.

The innocuous green eyes did not leave him; this he knew without looking. They would be empty, too. That was all anyone had for him today. At least he was answered anyway.

"Consider it a qualifier." Empty eyes, empty voice. "Don't come here if you're only running from him."

"What business is it of yours?" snapped the Jaganshi. "You wanted this. You said you didn't care about him." His sword belt was being more difficult to buckle on than it typically was; he was seething. What should have been a relaxing encounter, a way to expiate his stress and frustration, had been turned on him by that merciless, bastard fox—and it had been deliberately done.

"I don't. It is, quite literally, not my affair." A sliver of amusement betrayed Kurama's instinctive enjoyment of the pun, but did not smooth out the sudden danger in his tone. "And as it is not my affair, I would appreciate it if you would not bring it here."

Hiei just stared at him, keeping his anger under tight lock, almost puzzled behind it. What the hell difference did it make why he came here? Kurama had never cared before.

The fox was rising, silken hair and silken skin on coarse cotton sheets. "Do not come again until you've worked it out with him. I have respect for you both, but I won't be part of your quarrels."

"You aren't."

"I can smell it on you, Hiei."

"Tch. Have it your way. Don't expect me back."

Kurama didn't answer. With his unique, inimitable dismissal, he vanished into the adjoining bathroom without waiting for an acknowledgment.

It was no faster than Hiei vanished from his window into the night. The pouch was still in his pocket.

-o- -o- -o-

Kuwabara eyed him with heavy suspicion, mild puzzlement, and no little surprise. "I dunno why you're askin' me. I never go there unless Urameshi and I have to, and I sure as hell haven't tried to buy anything from the freaks who want to rip my head off. Try Botan."

-o- -o- -o-

The window rattled under his touch, and this time, it was answered.

"Thought you might not be coming back," Yuusuke told him as he stepped inside, dripping wet and hopping with alacrity over the bed to the floor. The boy leaned against the wall to watch his visitor disrobe.

Hiei snorted, peeling his sopping cloak from the equally sopping bandages over his right arm. Some of the snort was an adjustment to the house. It always smelled so much more like humans when he was inside one of their dwellings, unless it was Kurama's room (which never smelled enough like anything to matter). "You've been gone. How was I supposed to come back earlier than this?"

The brown eyes glimmered. "So you were checking?"

"Not long." Divested of the encumbering fabric, he grabbed a miscellaneous article of Yuusuke's clothing from the floor and dried his sword. It wouldn't do to let the blade rust.

Yuusuke shrugged languidly. "I was visiting Kurama."

Hiei dropped the shirt.

The detective continued, "But after a while, he told me to get out. I think he's mad at me, or something. Seems like it's going around."

"You visited him for days?" asked Hiei flatly, steam-drying his cloak with a sudden burst of heat that nearly set the bed coverings ablaze. "You haven't done that before."

There was no answer, only a yawn, and Yuusuke flopped down on his bed with an air of feigned nonchalance that he'd clearly spent his life perfecting. He stretched, catlike, gaze focusing on the blankly innocent ceiling. He knew how to do that without actually making Hiei feel ignored, but the Jaganshi hadn't yet figured out why he did it at all.

Resolute in his snap decision not to care, he settled his sword in the corner where he always did, and threw the cloak over a chair, passing through the room and taking up his familiar position near the door. He knew that if he waited long enough, the gregarious human would explain himself without being prodded—a pointed way in which he differed from Kurama.

Eventually, perhaps five minutes later, it came. Yuusuke picked up the conversation with a smoothness that denied it had ever paused. "He's not much for sleepovers, even though he's still girly as hell, but we got a lot of talking done."

I'm certain you did. Bastard. Now Yuusuke was baiting him, a sure sign that he had indeed been exposed to the fox recently. But Hiei was no hypocrite; he didn't care where Yuusuke spent his time, whether it was with the kitsune or the human girl he still favored. He didn't own Yuusuke, any more than Yuusuke owned him. Kurama, though… perhaps the detective had merely changed his mind, and decided that he wanted a lover more suited to him than the Forbidden Child. It wasn't difficult to assume, being what Hiei expected in general, although he'd thought it would take longer. Yuusuke always took forever to change his mind about anything.

If that was it, it would be ironic.

Silence continued until Yuusuke fell asleep.

-o- -o- -o-

"A trip to the Makai? I'm pretty sure I can't allow that," Botan answered nervously. "Your parole, and all. I'll put in a word with Koenma, though."

-o- -o- -o-

"Are you and Yuusuke lovers?" Hiei asked, perched on the windowsill.

Kurama wasn't looking at him, but rather sitting over his desk doing what looked like his silly human homework. His tone, when he responded, was deceptively mild. "I told you not to come back until you'd settled things with him, and you told me not to expect you back at all. What could you possibly be doing here?"

Hiei was not in the mood for games, even knowing that an encounter with Kurama was never free of them. "Answer me."

"Are you jealous, Hiei?"

"Hn. Hardly. I just want to know."

"Then why don't you ask him?"

Stupid questions—nothing but a stalling tactic. "Because I'm asking you."

Kurama set down his pen, looking up. Empty again. Damn. "No, Hiei. We're not. I don't form romantic attachments to humans." The words held no condemnation, and no mocking of Hiei's own choice, merely fact. It was a tone Hiei knew to trust, even when the grass-green eyes would not confirm it.

So he shrugged, and turned his head, looking at nothing in particular off to one side. "What did you talk about, then?"

"You, mostly."

"How odd for such a vain fox." His own voice was also devoid of ridicule.

"No more so than we two talking about him." Kurama picked up his pen and resumed what he'd been doing. There was no ease to the motion; he was displeased, perhaps angry.

Hiei didn't wait to be told to leave again.

-o- -o- -o-

"That defeats the purpose of your parole, Hiei. I can't keep an eye on you in the Makai, and you're supposed to be undergoing punishment by staying in the human world. If you need something, you'll either have to put in a request, or wait until your next mission."

-o- -o- -o-

While they sat together, watching the sun rise, battered and bloody from their more-vicious-than-usual spar, Hiei said: "No one owns you."

"Nope," Yuusuke agreed readily, folding his hands behind his head.

The demon looked at him sharply. "Humans own each other. I've seen it." He spat blood from his bitten cheek into the grass near him.

His lover cocked an eyebrow, glancing over at him. "Like how?"

"A mated female is owned by her male."

Yuusuke let out a rather overdone guffaw. "Tell that to Keiko! Damn, I'd pity the guy that tried to own her."

That reaction irritated Hiei. "Hn. I'm sure that one will be dominant over you when you mate, but that isn't difficult." His eyes wandered across the trees of the park. Shadows scampered across the ground, peeking through leaves, imitating dangers not found in this world.

"Pretty much," his partner said in laconic tones. "It'll definitely get worse when we actually start dating. Somehow I kinda like that about her, though."

Hiei wished him luck with her in the future.

Neither said anything further for a while. The quiet stretched between them, pressing on Hiei's mind, enticing it to wander down pointless paths. He had never favored self-reflection, having nothing on which to reflect but his own bloody nature, but he wondered often these days whether he'd made a mistake. He ought not to regard Yuusuke the manner he did, because he often didn't regard Yuusuke as human, which was foolish in its own right. There were ways in which the Tantei didn't think like other humans, and it was almost enough for Hiei to forget that his scent spoke of prey, plaything, and ignorant, ignorable tool.

As was characteristic, Yuusuke refused to allow the conversation to end there, although he left Hiei plenty of time to pick it back up himself before resuming. Hiei immediately regretted not doing so.

"Look, is this about Kurama, or Keiko, or me?"

The tone had been edged—almost hostile. Hiei was startled into looking over at him, the reflexive scowl catching up a second too late but intensifying for the delay. "I don't know what you're talking about." He let it morph into a full-on glare as Yuusuke reached over for his arm, which halted the motion before he had to pull away.

"Dammit," the human swore, "you do, too. I'm not stupid. You don't sleep with a guy for almost three months without getting to know him pretty well."

Hiei turned over onto his side. "Think whatever you like, Detective."

"I'm not jealous of Kurama, and I don't think I own you, and I'm tired of walking on eggshells because you're so damned paranoid!"

Something backing that shout—for it had become a shout near the end—had Hiei on his feet in an instant, fists at the ready, one arm drifting down near his sword, before he realized that Yuusuke was not going to attack him. By then, his lover had responded in kind, both scraped-up arms raised against a threat that was not coming.

He, however, lowered his guard first, and folded his arms, abruptly looking more grumpy than furious. "You are paranoid," he muttered. "Look, Hiei, I swear. You're not mine. I don't think you're mine. Why the hell do you have to keep calling me a liar?"

"Then why," asked Hiei carefully from behind his unwinding battle-readiness, "do you get angry when I'm with Kurama?"

To his outrage, Yuusuke shrugged as if it weren't important. " 'Cause he's prettier than me, I guess."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Muscles tightened again, creating threat rather than responding to it.

"Well I wouldn't pick me over those looks. Plus I smoke."

That had to be the single most bewildering statement Hiei had ever heard Yuusuke make.

He uncoiled from his stance, dropped both his arms, and stared.

After a full minute had gone by, Yuusuke began to laugh at him.

-o- -o- -o-

"This delivery is accompanied by a message: 'Don't expect this to be a regular thing'."

-o- -o- -o-

It was evening, and Kurama allowed Hiei inside without asking why he had returned again. Somehow, as he always mysteriously managed, he knew that everything had been handled, and there was no need for talk until after.

"Hiei," Kurama murmured into his hair as they let their bodies cool, "perhaps you should try to think like a human in this regard."

"Meaning what?" The words came out thick and drowsy.

"Meaning, it's hardly an even trade to expect Yuusuke to consider your perspective if you aren't willing to consider his."

"Hn." That, Hiei supposed, was true enough.

Before he departed, he left a pouch full of seeds on the wooden desk.

-o- -o- -o-

It was morning, and Yuusuke allowed Hiei inside without asking where he'd been. Somehow, as he always mysteriously managed, he made the little fire demon feel welcome without presuming to offer him anything, and there was no need for talk until after.

"Hiei," Yuusuke said conversationally as he watched his lover get dressed, "are you still mad at me?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," retorted the imiko. Reaching into the pile of his cloak, he tossed a bundle at Yuusuke, who caught it easily and raised a questioning brow. "So I don't burn half your clothes off next time we fight," he qualified.

Yuusuke inspected it. "And here I thought you liked seeing me naked. What is it, fireproof?" He unrolled the bundle into its two components of sleeveless shirt and loose pants.

"Near enough. It's the same as what I wear."

"Black's really not my color."

"It doesn't come in bullseye."

"That's a cheap shot." But he grinned at Hiei in that familiar way he had. "Thanks. So where are you going now? Over there again?"

That gave Hiei pause for only a moment.

Completing his redressing, he turned where he stood, and looked thoughtfully across the distance into Yuusuke's eyes. They weren't empty now, and even without understanding what they held, that was enough.

"Nowhere for the moment," he said, and stayed.