A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I posted here. I used to post a lot in YYH under the name oOKeairaOo about... four years ago? Five? I have no idea what the fandom has been like since then, so I hope you still enjoy this.

So. Um. For this to work, you're going to have to forget everything that was said between Yomi and Kurama when Kurama first arrived in Gandara. That's right. That whole thing with Yomi threatening Kurama never happened. Because, um, I said so. Also forget the whole Yusuke-never-came-to-Gandara-until-he-proposed-the-tournament thing. Yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own YYH, and am making no money from this story.

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It wasn't that Kurama didn't appreciate the concern. He did. One short, human lifetime ago, he wouldn't have had many friends willing to show concern for him, even embarrassingly misguided concern. Or many friends at all, now that he thought about it, unless one could consider those with whom one committed various unmentionable misdeeds to be friends.

The point was that he appreciated it. Really.

It was just that it was starting to get a bit ridiculous.

Lately, Yusuke had been making a habit of embarking upon 'diplomatic missions' to Yomi's palace. The inherent danger involved in Raizen's heir waltzing into Gandara on a regular basis aside, Yusuke's presence in and of itself wouldn't normally have been a problem. What made it so was the fact that most of these visits consisted mainly of Yusuke failing completely at the art of subtlety while inquiring into Kurama and Yomi's rather complicated relationship.

Kurama could tell that Yomi, in that quiet way of his, found the entire thing hilarious. The barest twitch of an eyebrow, the faintest quirk of pale lips, and the goat-demon might as well have thrown his head back in raucous amusement. Kurama had the sneaking suspicion that, a thousand years ago in this very same situation, he would have done just that.

And as easy as it was for Kurama – and probably only Kurama – to read Yomi, that was how simple it was for everyone else to read Yusuke. Stealth was not one of the boy's talents, after all. That was why Kurama couldn't really blame Yomi for being amused; seeing Yusuke attempting to be sneaky about his concern for the fox's safety was admittedly funny.

Or perhaps the king's amusement came more from the fact that Yusuke thought Kurama even needed his protection in the first place. The fox was staying with Yomi of his own volition, after all, and was free to leave at any time. He chose to stay. Similarly, Yomi could never do anything to Kurama that Kurama did not want, or at least tolerate. Differences in power levels aside, the past held more sway over their situation than any amount of youki ever could.

Oh, Yomi liked to play his little power games. He reveled in doing so, really. Once, Kurama had ruled over him as effectively as a king - a remote, untouchable figure seemingly forever out of his reach.

Yomi had responded by making himself into a king. He'd taken Kurama's figurative throne and placed himself in the position of power. What had once been forbidden to him was now at his fingertips, no longer above him but beneath him, often both figuratively and literally.

And he loved it.

But the past could never quite stay there, and Kurama could never stop being Kurama. He let Yomi play his games, not only because of who he had once been, but because of who he now was. Perhaps especially because of who he now was; the knowledge of what he had taken from his old friend now struck him in a way that would never have occurred to him only seventeen years previous.

And so Yusuke's almost childish concern was touching, but misplaced. Yomi had his throne, but Kurama had his heart, and with it the power to dethrone him just as easily as a hunter had struck him from his own seat of power not so long ago.

Kurama wondered idly how Yusuke would feel, knowing that Yomi was far more deserving of his protection than the redhead he seemed so intent on watching over. But then, Yusuke seemed to have some sort of complex about protecting those he considered feminine, and Kurama doubted Yomi would fit the necessary profile. He felt vaguely insulted on behalf of both himself and his former partner.

Speaking of which…

"…So I was hoping Kurama could come with me back to Toranin for a while, if it's okay with you." Kurama idly noted that the dark-haired boy looked childishly annoyed at having to ask permission for anything, much less the company of his friend. Diplomacy did not suit him, but that was hardly a surprise.

And there was that telltale twitch of lips, probably invisible to anyone who hadn't known Yomi back when he'd been a loud, annoying demon of barely two hundred years. "He doesn't need my permission. I can assure you, Kurama is free to do as he pleases."

The dubious look Yusuke cast Kurama made it obvious to the entire room - and probably all of the makai - just what he thought of that assertion, and the redhead felt his amusement beginning to melt into annoyance. His pride could only take being stomped on just so many times, after all.

"Yusuke." Kurama didn't raise his voice, but the former reikai tantei jumped anyway. Kurama hadn't spoken once since he'd arrived.

"Yeah?"

"May we speak in private?"

Yomi turned away, and Kurama was distantly certain that he would never live this down. Yusuke moved to follow the horned demon, but Kurama caught his arm. "Now, Yusuke."

Kurama all but dragged the half-youkai to his room and shut the door behind him. Yusuke, looking sullen and thoroughly confused, rubbed at his arm as soon as the redhead released it. "What the hell, Kurama?"

"You," Kurama informed him, moving away from the door to seat himself wearily on a plush chair, "are making a complete fool of yourself."

Yusuke might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but years around Kuwabara and Hiei had enabled him to develop a keen sense for knowing exactly when he was being insulted. And Kurama wasn't even bothering to be subtle. "Me? You're the one lettin' this weirdo just… just—I mean, what about Hiei?!"

Kurama crossed his legs, a bewildered expression on his face. "What about Hiei?"

"What about—?" Yusuke gaped at him for a moment or two, made a few valiant attempts at explanatory hand gestures, then gave up. "You're not going to make me say it, are you?"

Kurama's lips twitched. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm that cruel."

Yusuke huffed, setting his hands on his waist and scuffing the worn toe of his sneaker against Kurama's previously scuff-free marble floor. "You guys are… you know…"

"Are we?" Kurama managed to keep a straight face. "You must be sure to inform Hiei, then. He should know that he is no longer unattached."

"You're gonna make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?"

"You have been repeatedly insulting me for months, now."

Yusuke wrinkled his nose. "I have not!"

Kurama stood, crossing the room to the window, glancing out. "Yusuke, you've been in the makai for a while, now. One would have thought you'd have picked up a thing or two about demonic interaction." And if he didn't soon, then there was going to be trouble when Yusuke inherited Raizen's lands. If Mukuro didn't take advantage of his inexperience in demonic matters, Yomi most certainly would. War wouldn't even be necessary.

"Yeah, well I haven't exactly had time between gettin' kicked around by bald guys and—"

"Despite what you may think about the things Hiei and I have done in private, Yusuke," Kurama interrupted, deciding to skip the headache and explain things to Yusuke in human terms, "we have made no commitment to one another. Hiei is free to do as he pleases, as am I. He's a friend, nothing more."

"Does Hiei know that?" Yusuke grumbled, and Kurama was abruptly amused again. So this wasn't just about protecting him, but protecting Hiei, as well. How absolutely… adorable. Thinking Kurama needed protection was funny. Thinking Hiei needed it was downright hilarious.

"If he didn't, do you honestly think he and his pet dragon wouldn't have payed me a visit by now?" Kurama pointed out.

Yusuke huffed again, slumping down into the chair Kurama had previously occupied. His friend had apparently made what he deemed to be a valid point, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to pout about it.

Kurama leaned against the windowsill, staring outside silently as he waited for Yusuke's mild tantrum to pass. He was almost startled by the uncharacteristically soft sound of the boy's – man's, he reminded himself - voice when the half-youkai finally spoke.

"Then why are you here, Kurama?"

The redhead's face was carefully blank as he lifted a hand to press his fingertips to the cool glass.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

Chapter One

Yomi's suite was located in the highest tower of his palace, the jutting refuge providing the perfect vantage point from which to watch as Yusuke made his way across the courtyard and through the front gates, his only belongings a bag slung over his shoulder. Kurama watched as he paused, turning to glance back at the palace, and for a moment the redhead could have sworn that their eyes met.

Lightning sketched a bright, jagged path across the red sky, the flash briefly obscuring the former reikai tantei from view. Kurama blinked, spots dancing in his vision for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Yusuke was only a small speck in the distance.

Losing interest in the sight of his departing friend, Kurama turned his gaze to Yomi, standing still beside him. The Gandaran king's head was angled towards the window, brows drawn together over closed eyes, and Kurama knew that Yomi could see Yusuke better, even now, than he could ever hope to.

"What did you say to him?"

Kurama started, briefly annoyed with Yomi's newfound ability to catch him off-guard. "Hm?"

"Yusuke." Yomi smiled, freely showing his amusement now that the object of their discussion was no longer present. "What did you say to him to get him to leave?"

Kurama turned his back to the window, leaning against the wall beside it and crossing his arms over his chest. "The truth. That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. That you're not holding me here against my will. That he's a moron."

"I don't remember you being quite so blunt."

"That's not true. I used to call you a moron quite often."

Yomi laughed, a deep sound that Kurama found impossible to interpret. Was he truly amused, or did he take offense to the reminder? The youko scowled to himself.

"Ah, but I was a moron," Yomi said as he removed his outer robe, dropping it over a chair. "Your half-human friend is merely inexperienced."

"So were you," Kurama found himself saying, abruptly feeling as if he'd just been led to this conclusion.

"Perhaps," his companion agreed. He managed to make the admission sound gracious.

Every moment with Yomi was a battle carried out through words and body language, one Kurama was only winning by virtue of an unfair advantage – Yomi's heart was one of the first things he'd stolen. Luckily, the redhead had never been one for fair play.

"I'll be in my room," Kurama announced dully, pushing away from the wall.

–

In the warm aftermath of pleasure, the ceiling was a fuzzy, shadowed expanse of color. Kurama blinked, briefly imagining in his lust-fogged state that again he could see a friend walking off into the distance, this time disappearing into off-white plaster. Another blink and the vision was gone, the ridiculousness of it making him smile in the way of half-remembered dreams.

"Pleased with yourself?"

The smile disappeared and Kurama was distantly aware of the warm breath stirring the hair curling at his temple.

"Something like that."

Yomi shifted, his own long, black hair falling around them, tickling Kurama's shoulders and assaulting him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he felt claustrophobic. He imagined violet eyes behind Yomi's closed lids and suddenly needed his space; he pushed at the hard plane of the demon's chest, fingers sliding over skin slick with sweat, finding no traction. But Yomi obliged him, sitting up and pulling out of him carefully. The movement made Kurama wince, though not from pain.

What might have been a knowing look crossed Yomi's face; he sat up on the bed, tying his hair back in a loose knot. Kurama frowned – was he so transparent? He missed his old eyes, hard and golden and more difficult to read than even Yomi's closed-lidded stare.

And still Kurama held all the power. He wondered how it was that Yomi's love was stronger than his hate. Or maybe the old goat had simply gotten the two mixed up.

Kurama felt the bed shift beneath him as Yomi slid out of it to gather his clothes. This was how it always happened – in Kurama's room (the redhead would not tolerate it anywhere else; he felt most comfortable here, most in control, and it was always, always about control), and Yomi left immediately after. Neither of them would exchange gentle touches, soft whispers of affection. For Yomi, this was too close to hatred, and for Kurama, a sort of guilty reminiscence. Maybe that was why he was here in the first place.

A self-deprecating smile appeared on Kurama's lips. He supposed he'd have to send Yusuke a message.

The door closed with a soft click as Yomi left, and the room was silent save for Kurama's even breaths and the very human beat of his heart.

A/N: I am not used to FFN's new upload system, so I had to go back through and remove all my tags after uploading, then re-alter the formatting. Let me know if I missed any tags? Hope you enjoyed. There will be at least three parts to this, maybe more - but I have no idea how quickly I'll get them out. Everything is sketched out, I just have to flesh it out a bit more.