Kuwabara had spent most of the day trying really hard not to think about ... that. Which basically meant he spent a lot of time thinking about not thinking about ... that.
That nightmare.
Anyways, after a super packed morning of killing time at arcades and fighting punks and thinking about not thinking, Kuwabara found himself making his way through side streets with his pockets empty, body sore and brain numb.
He was tired. It sucked since he'd spent most of the day playing hooky and didn't even get to enjoy it or hang out with his friends. He was too embarrassed to talk to anyone in a way that didn't involve putting his fist or foot in their face. And Shizuru would kick his ass when she found out he'd skipped, so he wasn't exactly raring to go home either. Not even the thought of Eikichi, her fluffy kitten self rolling and bouncing about like a ball as she chased the end of her feathered toy, could cheer him up.
Yeah. Things had gone straight downhill even before he woke up in the morning.
Kuwabara stuffed his hands into his pockets and kicked randomly at the ground whenever something caught his eye. If the something wasn't total garbage, he bent down to pick it up just so the action could briefly interrupt any thoughts (especially -that-) spinning through his head. His collection now included a coin (dented), a nail (bent), and a paper clip (slightly rusty).
As Kuwabara walked, another memory came to him, thankfully not -that- this time.
He and Urameshi had just left Kissashi Bar. It was late in the day and they were walking side by side along the road, Urameshi carrying a sleeping Yukimura on his back. There were no other people around and it was pretty quiet. Kuwabara had still been recovering from his heart attack after seeing the other, presumably dead, boy's face pop up at the top of the stairs only minutes earlier. It had been a Holy Shit moment to end all Holy Shits.
"It's a long story," Urameshi had said, and then made it very short. And when Urameshi had asked him for the favour, to pass off Yukimura's rescue as Kuwabara's work so that no one would be the wiser about his brief revival, Kuwabara would normally have balked at the idea of taking credit like that. It was completely against his honour code. But under these circumstances ...
"Fine, I'll do it," he'd said. And then he'd meant to say, by the way, thanks for your help with that science test, but he didn't.
"But you owe me a beer when you get back," he'd said instead.
"I'll let you beat me up for once," Urameshi had replied.
"Hell no, you moron!" Kuwabara had exploded. "I'll beat you up for real one day!"
Urameshi had laughed. They'd continued in silence for a few minutes. The thought of mentioning the test had crossed Kuwabara's mind again.
"What's it like being dead?" he'd asked instead.
Urameshi had considered for a moment, then shrugged. Since he was still carrying Yukimura, the movement was a little more lopsided and a little less careless than it normally would have been.
"Eh, it's not that different from being alive," he had replied. "Except you float around a lot, don't eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom, and can't touch or do anything. There're lots of rules, and most of them don't make any sense. And there's always a babysitter nagging at you."
"Gee, that sucks." Kuwabara had tried to compare it to something they knew from the living world. "That's like detention forever. Except with floating."
"Yeah."
"So what's gonna happen?" Kuwabara had asked. "When you come back for real, I mean." He was still kind of in wonderment that the other boy really was alive and breathing next to him, and that they were conversing so casually. He was also still kind of relieved that he didn't have to go up against a gang of ten or twelve-some-odd murderous rival school thugs in the bar by himself.
Though knowing that Urameshi had, with nothing worse to show for it than a slight bruise over his right brow and alcohol slicked hair, rankled him. Just a bit.
"I dunno," Urameshi had replied, shifting Yukimura against his back. "They don't really tell you much." His brow had furrowed, irritation crossing his face for a split second, but then it lifted and his eyes had lit up. "Hey, maybe I'll come back in a blaze of light or flames or something and burn down the school! That'd be fun." He'd chuckled, not seeming to realize if that were the case he'd probably burn his own house down first.
Later, Kuwabara would wonder if that's what had happened when Yukimura had rescued his body from the fire. But naw, Urameshi couldn't be that dumb as to almost kill her too. And the police did catch an arsonist who admitted to a whole series of fires.
Well, anyway, he kind of got the light part right, Kuwabara thought morosely, slouching as he walked. The image of Urameshi lying in bed, glowing, floated into his mind again. And then-
Aaaaargh. Kuwabara shook his head violently, trying to get it out.
But why him? Was it because, like Urameshi said, there were rules preventing him from communicating with his mom or with Yukimura?
Stupid rules. Stupid afterlife detention.
"Can't help it," Urameshi had said. "If I break the rules, that's it."
This from the guy who'd never met a rule he cared about, or wasn't able to bend to his will. Sheesh, considering the whole situation, even death was sounding like just a long speed bump. Unless ...
Kuwabara stopped in the middle of the street and took his hands out of his pockets. He had come to a singular conclusion.
If he ever wanted to fight Urameshi again, he had to go.
And. Do ... that.
His right hand formed into a fist of resolve. If this was the only way Urameshi could come back to life, it was terrible to think of, but it was decided.
Kuwabara found the complex and made his way up the stairs, eventually finding himself standing outside the door of the Urameshi apartment.
Something tickled his spine. He felt the hairs on the back of his arms stand up, tingling. It was odd, a sudden wash of mixed emotions coming from some other energy - surprise, gratitude and a belated dash of horror. Weird. Well, he understood the horror part anyways.
Kuwabara looked at the door, took a deep breath, and reached out to grip the handle.
And that's when it hit him that he had no key. And no idea of how to get a key.
He paused, then, hesitantly, knocked on the door.
A full minute passed before he tried again, rapping a little harder this time.
And again.
He was about to knock a fourth time, or even yell "Hello!" when he caught himself. Obviously Urameshi's mom wasn't home, and what the hell would he say anyways if she was? Or if someone else heard him banging on the door? It was better that no one was around. He'd just have to find another way in.
Right. And how the fuck was that supposed to happen?
Kuwabara gritted his teeth. Breaking an apartment window in the middle of the afternoon would go over real well when a neighbour or passerby heard the shattering glass and him clambering into the unit. And when he got arrested, he couldn't even give an honest explanation. "Sorry officer, I had to get in 'cause this dead guy I used to fight at school sent me a dream to bring him back by smooching him!" His life would be over. Forever.
He scratched his head in frustration. "Shit's not really well thought out, Urameshi!" he muttered to no one.
Then he felt something again - not a chilly sweep like back at the arcade, but like the time he was about to punch that rat-faced Akashi after his test. Supportive, unhesitating, flowing, perfectly aligned and unified with his own intentions, back then to help Okubo keep his job by following Akashi's terms, and now to, uh, break into Urameshi's home to kiss him. Basically. He tried not to think about it.
A whisper of something ghosted over him, and suddenly he somehow knew what to do. Well, not really, but his head filled with images (not -that-) and his hands started moving.
A wire of some sort flashed in his mind. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the contents: coin, nail, paper clip. He dropped the first two items to the ground, then brought the clip close to his face to inspect it. Slowly, unsteadily at first but with growing certainty, he straightened and rebent its body.
Kuwabara snuck a quick look over his shoulder. There was no one around. He leaned close to the door, bending slightly over the handle, and inserted the wire into the lock. He somehow knew he should actually be lower to the ground, closer to the lock to be doing this properly, but it was like someone else had an eye on it already from that angle, from all other angles, and already knew how this lock needed to be picked.
The wire slid right in with ease. He jiggled it blindly left and right, felt pins or something be pushed up one by one, and then a nearly inaudible click and sense of release. He grabbed the handle, twisted it, and just like that the door opened.
"Alright!" Kuwabara exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air delightedly, then realizing (again) it was outside in the middle of the afternoon and he'd just picked a lock for the first time in broad daylight. Quickly he scooted inside and shut the door, having the presence of mind to remove the paper clip from the lock first.
Urameshi's new place was pretty sparse. Kuwabara guessed Urameshi's mom hadn't had time yet to get anything but the barest of essentials after the fire. Or simply hadn't bothered.
He looked around nervously. Foyer. Hallway.
Oops, he forgot about his shoes. He took them off and left them in the middle of the hall for now, mentally apologizing for his rudeness. Shizuru had beaten the awareness of it into him a long time ago.
Bedroom. Urameshi's bedroom. And, yep, there was Urameshi, lying in bed and bathed in a radiant golden light. Just like his dream. Nightmare.
A mere five strides away.
Kuwabara gulped. Shit was about to get real.
He took a step into the room and towards the bed. Oh my god.
Another step. Holy shit.
A third step. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh ...!
Kuwabara stopped. For some reason he felt like he could hear someone else's incoherent screaming joining his from over his shoulder, though the room was totally silent. Of course. Aside from his own heavy breathing, rapid heartbeat and noisy thoughts.
He took inventory of those thoughts. He'd gone to too much trouble to get here to turn around like a wimp. Kuwabara the man didn't back down from any commitment or decision. Even if, uhh ... well, he couldn't abandon everything now and not go all the way. Er, not that kind of way, aaahh ...
He turned around and scanned the room and hallway out behind him, then knit his brows and raised a fist at the empty air.
"Yo," he growled. "I- uh- just want you to know this doesn't mean anything except that you better be ready for an epic beatdown when you get back! You asshole!"
He couldn't explain it, but he seemed to feel something change slightly, a cooling of the air with a kind of relief, the sense of some sort of tentative, approving agreement. He lowered his arm and nodded curtly. Damn right.
Kuwabara turned back to the body in the bed, shook his head to clear his thoughts, and steeled himself.
With an abrupt movement, he completed the last two wide steps to the bed and knelt down next to it, hand on one knee. He took a deep breath, then exhaled and looked down at Urameshi.
Holy fucking shit.
He was looking at a sleeping doll.
Kuwabara honestly never realized just how much a person's active personality, particular body language and constant animation of life affected your perception of their physical features. He had never seen Urameshi like this before, not even after Yukimura had brought him out of the fire. Their faces had never been so close, so still, for so long. Sure, there was -that-, but dreams always had a bit of a weird fuzzy quality when you thought about it afterwards (though this one was super persistent).
If Urameshi didn't slick his hair back, wasn't always swearing up a storm and didn't make cocky, ridiculous or gonna-kick-your-fucking-ass faces 99.9% of the time, he was actually really pretty and could totally pass for a girl. Kuwabara made a mental note to remember this for future insult purposes.
But currently, he had to kiss that face. And the face in question, with no expression altering it, was stunningly delicate, with features that could even be called dainty. Dark bangs wisped over Urameshi's forehead and just touched the long lashes of his closed eyes. Though as far as Kuwabara or anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of an Urameshi headbutt was concerned, those bangs were basically hiding a weapon of mass destruction.
First hand experience aside, pyjama-clad Urameshi looked gentle and innocent and vulnerable. And the stupid golden light was also adding to the whole angelic sleeping beauty effect.
It was just so ... so freaking weird.
Shit, this wasn't getting any easier.
Kuwabara scrunched his eyes shut. He could still see the light glowing past his eyelids. His hands felt super sweaty and clammy and he clenched them tightly into fists.
Don't think about this moment, he thought to himself. Focus on the thing you gotta do. Remember what happened in the dream. Then he remembered that the dream and the thing were the entire problem in the first place, and consciously remembering them made everything a million times more real and awkward. Oops.
Okay, fuck, don't think about anything, Kuwabara thought, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, letting his upper body descend towards the bed to plant the fateful kiss. Just DO IT AND KISS HIM AND MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIFE YOU MORON AHHHHHHH-
His face smacked, hard, into the side of Urameshi's face. The whole bed shook in protest at the impact.
Groaning, Kuwabara lifted himself off of Urameshi's shoulder and the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. He rubbed his nose painfully and sighed. It was probably a good idea to open his eyes in order to aim his mouth.
He squinted his eyes and looked down again. Urameshi was still completely unresponsive (though he now sported a bit of a red welt on his cheek). And still totally angelic.
For obvious reasons, Kuwabara's brain drifted back to -that-. Lifting Urameshi's upper body, gently, up from the bed, one of his hands cradling the back of Urameshi's head as he leaned in and AAARRRRRRRGH NO no no no nonono. He wasn't going to touch Urameshi any more than necessary, he thought with great conviction. God freaking dammit. He was supposed to be a hero here saving the day, and instead he felt like some closet perv, breaking into houses to do pervy stuff to people sleeping in their beds. And this was gonna be his first kiss ever too. Why was shit so messed up?
Kuwabara took another deep breath, tried to summon every nerve in his body to NOT FUCKING THINK ABOUT THIS, then leaned forward again, doing his best to ignore the heart attack happening in his brain and whatever other silent screams were taking place in the invisible other world around him. He fixed his line of sight on Urameshi's lips.
His face got closer. And closer.
Shiiiiiiiiiit.
He tried to concentrate his last coherent thought on why he was doing this instead of what he was doing.
You better get your stupid fucking ass back here, Urameshi.
He closed his eyes. And kissed Urameshi.
Kuwabara wasn't quite sure how much time passed or what he was supposed to be feeling. The initial impression was that Urameshi's lips were incredibly soft and quite warm. Then his mind started ping-ponging between hey, this ain't that bad and WHAT THE FUCK, I'M KISSING URAMESHI until he became aware of the glow past his eyelids dimming suddenly.
Kuwabara opened his eyes in alarm, pulling back from the bed. The light had disappeared, and Urameshi was still lying there, motionless.
"Shit," he whispered. "Did I do it wrong ...?"
He almost didn't dare to breathe. His eyes darted right to left, scanning the length of the bed from head to foot.
No light. No movement. No nothing.
His vision started to blur, just like back at the funeral. Kuwabara looked down at his hands, finding them clutching at the bedspread by Urameshi's shoulder. When'd that happen? he wondered blankly. Blankness was immediately followed by rage as he shut his eyes, his fingers gripped the fabric tightly and he mentally cursed himself. His hands closed into fists, shaking.
God dammit Kuwabara, he screamed in his head. You are such a pathetic, useless fuckup! Just because you've never kissed anybody before in your life! The one time you had to do it and it was literally life or death, you screwed it up and now Urameshi is dead and gone for good. You fucking moron! This one stupid little thing and you couldn't even do it right. And you call yourself a man!
He was so lost in his failure and self-loathing that he wasn't aware of anything else until he felt something touch his shoulder.
"No, I think you did it right," said a quiet - and very familiar - voice.
Kuwabara opened his eyes and looked up.
The beautiful angelic face was gazing down at him, eyes open and brown and bright.
Urameshi didn't say anything else, and actually looked like he was at a loss for further words, something so rare that Kuwabara would have made fun of him if his own expression didn't probably mirror it, plus teary eyes. The two boys stared at each other, one on both knees against the side of the bed and the other sitting up on it.
After what felt like forever, Urameshi finally lifted his hand from Kuwabara's shoulder and touched the red mark on his own cheek, frowning mildly at the pressure. Then he blinked and broke the silence again.
"Uh, guess I do owe you a beer," he said.
You fucking owe me big time, you bastard, and way more than a beer, Kuwabara wanted to retort, but all that came out was, "You, uh, uhhh," and the memory of the seconds-old kiss and the softness of the contact and the (much more immediate) feeling of his own face heating up hotter than a thousand suns. And then the fight-or-fly instincts - in this case, the latter - took over.
"-uh, yeah," Kuwabara finally stuttered, scrambling up. "Real expensive fancy beer. I gotta, ah, get home so Shizuru can bust my ass for not being at school." He dove for the door.
"Get ready to die again Monday!" he yelled over his shoulder, not waiting for a response before slamming the door behind him.
He realized something was wrong when he stepped onto the concrete outside. Oh.
Kuwabara turned around immediately, opened the door again, and dashed into the hall. Urameshi was still sitting on the bed and staring in his direction from down the hallway.
"Uh, my shoes," explained Kuwabara, lamely. He grabbed them and split again, this time closing the door a little more carefully before running like mad for the safety of home, where (he hoped) sanity and the comfort of familiarity awaited him in the form of an angry older sister and a weekend full of happy kitten distraction.
Unfortunately, Kuwabara's weekend would mostly be a write-off. He would spend much of the next day thinking far too much about not thinking about stuff. And that was probably the reason he wasn't paying enough attention when Eikichi was kidnapped.
Author's Notes: I wrote this because I was surprised to realize I don't think I've ever really seen someone tackle it. I'd love to read other interpretations. Also, Yusuke's advanced skill as a lockpicker is explicitly discussed in the manga, but I've never really seen it be utilized in a fic either. Two birds one stone etc.
I typed most of this on a tablet which kept correcting the swearing to phrases like "holy funding shot" and "WHAT THE DUCK", which made things even more stupidly hilarious.
Nov 15, 2014 - made a couple of minor edits and added a sentence. Also the original posting named the bar as Hangoroshi, which I'd just grabbed from a popular online scanslation. When I looked at the page again though, the hiragana next to the kanji actually says "kissa" so I've corrected it.