Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Yu Yu Hakusho, nor any related characters or merchandise, and make no profit from the writing or distribution of this work of fiction.
For as long as he can remember (that's not completely true – he was aware as a child, but that's hardly the point – for as long as anyone expects him to remember might be more accurate), Minamino Shuuichi – who is really the legendary Youko Kurama – has had a very fixed nightly routine. He is a creature of habit, after all.
That isn't to say he's without a bit of flexibility: when his mother remarried, he adapted his routine to include time with his new stepbrother; when his friends drop by, he always has time for them; but all these things are accounted for with allotted blocks of time. Never has anything thrown him off his general routine. Until now.
Now, every night, when he enters his room, he automatically moves towards the window, just like always. Only now, he has to stop himself after a few steps and correct his path, because the old, familiar routine of unlocking his window has no purpose. There is no one to take advantage, not anymore.
It's been several months since the Makai tournament, several months since he made to the decision to return to the Ningenkai and live out his days – well, his family's days, really – as a faithful son. But old habits are hard to break, they say, and though Kurama doesn't quite know who 'they' are, he has to admit to the truth in the statement. It is why, every night, his feet try to take him to the window before he remembers: there is no need for him to unlock it. Hiei is gone.
He knows, he thinks, why Hiei stayed. Knows that the fire-demon sees a sort of reflection of himself in the woman he serves. Knows that Hiei and Mukuro are helping each other, slowly, to rise above their pasts, to grasp their futures. And he has known, all along, from the very beginning, that he can claim no ties to the fire-demon. That while he might have come to expect – even enjoy – Hiei's nightly presence in his room and his bed, what they had was nothing more than a partnership of convenience. Or should have been.
Hiei was right, Kurama muses, gazing blankly at the papers in front of him, his hands moving automatically to solve complex formulae, my time with the humans has made me soft. There was a time, once, when he would never have allowed himself to be so easily ensnared by emotion. But this human body is so quick to form attachments…
The lie sounds hollow, even within his own thoughts. But his mind has accepted what his body – and, dare he consider it, his heart – will not, and the window to his room stays locked, the curtains drawn.
He had asked, once, in the quiet after the tournament, knowing what the answer would be before it came. Had turned to glance over his shoulder at Hiei, who had already been throwing his cloak around his shoulders.
"Come back with me," he had murmured, sheets cool against his bare skin.
Hiei had answered without looking back, pausing only momentarily in the doorway, a stark silhouette against the light. "Why?"
Kurama had only shaken his head and glanced away. "Because," he had begun, but Hiei had already gone.
"I'll miss you," he had finished, with no one to listen but the empty room.
I've moved on, Kurama scolds himself, and a good part of him has. He has never pined, never lost a moment to self-pity – how could he mourn the loss of something he never truly had? He is stronger than that, he always has been, and that's all that matters. What's left now is to let his body forget the touch of rough hands, the press of a hot mouth, the automatic unlocking of his bedroom window.
Shaking himself free of his thoughts, Kurama glances down, only mildly surprised to find that the assignment he has been working on is complete, filled out with row upon row of neat, orderly printing. Smiling slightly, he stands, stretches until his spine gives off a series of muffled pops, and turns, intending to find out if his little brother is interested in a quick video game before bed.
Halfway to the door, he stops abruptly. He must be hearing things, but he could have sworn… Before he can finish the thought, the sound comes again: an impatient tapping against his window.
For a moment, all he can do is stand in the center of his room, half-turned towards the window, brow furrowed in disbelief. But when the tapping sounds once more – the sound of his hilt against the glass Kurama thinks, without even realizing it – he strides across the room and throws the curtains open without a second thought.
Hiei is crouched there on the sill, glaring at him through the glass. Reaching out with trembling fingers, Kurama releases the latch, pushes the window open, and stands aside as the fire-demon slips gracefully in.
"Why was the window locked?" he asks, setting his katana against the wall by the window – just like always Kurama thinks, feeling his self-control slip rapidly away.
"You didn't come by for such a long time," Kurama explains faintly. "I guess it must have slipped my mind."
Hiei snorts. "I had patrol duty," he offers simply, lining his boots and cloak up beside the katana before moving to lie on the bed.
"Don't you still?" Kurama asks, sitting near the fire-demon's knees, and he can't quite resist the urge to reach out and touch, just to ensure that this is all really happening.
Hiei shrugs, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "Mukuro practically forced me off duty for the next few weeks."
"You only stayed because of patrol duty?" Kurama asks incredulously. It's hard to believe that this can all be explained away so simply.
Except, he realizes suddenly, it isn't unbelievable at all. Hiei would see no purpose in giving a reason for his extended absence. Kurama understands that; what's more, he understands that Hiei being here, now, in the Ningenkai, speaks volumes. Smiling, he turns to glance at Hiei, who has opened one eye to watch him curiously.
"You're acting oddly," the fire-demon observes with a frown, sitting up. "What's wrong?"
Unable to stop his soft laugh from escaping, Kurama moves until he's straddling the fire-demon, leans forward to press his forehead to Hiei's. He can feel the furrow in Hiei's brow against his skin.
"What's wrong with you?" Hiei asks again, and Kurama has no better response than the hungry press of his lips.
"Nothing," he murmurs when they break apart – briefly – for air. "Not anymore."
For a long while after that, it's all familiar ground. The slide of bodies against one another, the frantic tearing of clothes and sting of preparation, it's all the same – but then everything changes.
Kurama's already turned onto his hands and knees, back arched, when he feels coarse hands grip his hips, and that's nothing new. But then the hands push and pull, flipping Kurama to his back, and his startled green eyes meet Hiei's unreadable red.
Their eyes stay locked even as Hiei hooks his arms under Kurama's knees and slides into his body. They stay locked as Kurama's back arches off the bed and he wails in pleasure, they stay locked as Hiei thrusts slowly into Kurama's body. And when Kurama does let his eyes slide closed, they snap open a moment later at the touch of a callused hand on his erection.
"Look at me," he hears Hiei rasp, and he has to obey. Once more, he meets those claret eyes, only now – for a moment – they're an open book. And Kurama can't pinpoint when or how it happened, but right before his eyes, everything has changed.
His world explodes suddenly into a pleasure so intense it's excruciating, and he can't think, can't move, can hardly even breathe until it fades away.
The first thing he's aware of is Hiei's weight pressed against his chest, and even when he brings his hands up to slide curiously along the planes of the fire-demon's back, Hiei remains. And Kurama smiles.
Well, he thinks, settling in for the night, finally understanding what Hiei has been trying to tell him without words, I guess it's a good thing I never reallygave up the habit of unlocking my window.