Yusuke.
Kurama moved from dream to consciousness seamlessly, his awakening immediate and whole. The edge of his mind tingled with the sensation of familiarity, a feeling so long lost he'd forgotten it. It was a curious sort of thing, to know that this was something he'd experienced a hundred times before, to be able to recognize it by experience alone, and yet not to remember where it had begun. The end of it was something else, faded and dismal, underscored by a lack of caring that punctuated the current state of his life. This, though, this was something that pushed his brain into a state of awareness that he'd not experienced in far too long, and hated to admit that he'd missed.
He could not see him, he could not hear him, but Kurama could feel Hiei asleep in the next room.
He moved to dress as his mind wound to a start, replaying the moments of the evening before. Hiei climbing through his window was the furthest thing he'd considered happening, especially if the occurrence stemmed from what he suspected. His inquiry about wedding attire hadn't gone anywhere; in fact, neither of their questions seemed to meet with answers before shock and exhaustion led them to concede and prioritize sleep over inquisition. After all, it wasn't as if Kurama had any time lines to keep.
Body clothed and mind sharp, Kurama moved quietly through the apartment's main room and into the open kitchen. With false pretense of pouring himself some orange juice, Kurama watched from his vantage point the slow rise and fall of Hiei's chest, obscured somewhat beneath folds of black fabric. His outer cloak lay strewn messily over the back of a wooden dining chair, still wet from the night before's rain. Hiei himself was damp to look at, legs curled up ever so slightly and arms wrapped tightly around himself. His face was tucked into the couch's cushions, leaving Kurama his back. The positioning was something that caught Kurama's attention even the night before - the whole situation was a red flag, to be sure - with his choice in arrangements. To sleep, and sleep soundly, meant that Hiei was at least unconsciously comfortable enough to be in his presence. Consciously: well, he'd chosen his spot both outside of the other's bed and room. He was keeping his distance. And yet, he was still here.
Without missing a beat, Kurama took a pan off of it's hook on the wall and slammed it onto the range.
The bundle on the couch didn't stir, not even to tense up. Kurama's mood immediately fell; perhaps Hiei was not as comfortable as he was letting on. Sleep, then, had been something feigned since before he'd walked into the room, reasons for doing so only possibly being a lack of trust. It certainly was a better fit for where he expected the two of them stood, but left no hints as toward his modus operandi. If anything, it only managed to irk Kurama.
"Eggs?"
Hiei's shoulders slumped at the initiation, his avoidance thwarted. Slowly, in accordance with making the other wait, Hiei lifted himself from the cushions stiffly and turned his eyes toward the kitchen. They were cold, like Kurama remembered.
"I'm not hungry."
"Your loss, I suppose." Kurama let a half-smile slip as he dropped a chunk of butter onto the warming iron. "I'm quite a good cook."
"I know." The words came with no intonation, but intrigued Kurama nonetheless. Was this engagement, he wondered? If Hiei's appearance was out of character, his interest in participating in conversation - one that acknowledged any sort of shared history - certainly furthered his interest.
"Hmm," Kurama hummed, letting the gears in his head turn without interruption as he flipped the eggs in the pan. He let them sizzle for a moment, taking the time to warm some break, before plating the meal and moving over to the table in the common area. Hiei watched without moving, torn between looking too interested or entirely disinterested altogether. Not finding a place to settle as the other began to eat, he did not let the silence drag and cut to his intention.
"The wedding," Kurama had taken to reading the paper, seemingly forgetting his presence in the short stint of quiet. "Are you going?"
"Who knows," Kurama muttered under his breath, feeling bile wash over his tongue at the mere mention of it. It did not mix well with the contents of his cup. He paused, openly looking over the other before sighing and returning to his reading. Hiei had fought the urge to flinch at the look - he knew him well enough to tell still - but remained unmoved. "Did Kazuma send you?"
Even in his peripheral vision, Kurama could see the movement behind Hiei's eyes at the use of Kuwabara's first name. The air around him shifted immediately to uncomfortable, though if it was because he'd been seen through or the closeness that had just been exhibited, Kurama didn't know. Either way, it felt like a victory.
" I came of my own free will. That's what friends do for each other, in case you'd forgotten." Kurama couldn't help but chuckle, covering his mouth as he swallowed and piercing Hiei with a look that clearly said "hypocrite." Hiei did not share in his amusement. The two looked quite a pair: Hiei glaring daggers at the kitsune, who finished his meal looking nothing short of smugly jovial. Once done, Kurama leaned back in his chair, the hint of a smirk still on his lips: something Hiei knew as trouble.
"Why are you here, Hiei?" The fire demon ground his teeth, his face not changing its appearance but obviously deliberating. Barely an hour had passed with the two in the same room, and they had already reached the point of testing. Just like old times.
"I came to ask you a favor," Hiei broke eye contact for a moment to look around the room. "In addition to accommodation."
"A favor." It wasn't a question, just repetition. Hiei made a face, a quirk of his eyebrow, before shifting to reach down into his boot and pull out a slip of paper. He lifted it beside his head, a clear indication that he had no plans on moving from his spot. Kurama exhaled loudly, taking his plate in one hand and walking over to collect the paper in the other. He didn't look at it until the utensils were deposited in the sink.
"Measurements." Hiei elaborated, at the quizzical look the other planted him with.
"And you expect me to...?"
"Find me a suit." Kurama's face changed from curious to utterly not amused. "There's an appointment set up today."
Hiei watched as Kurama considered his request, glancing again at the paper in his hand. The hard edge around his cheekbones softened for a moment, his eyebrow raising at what he saw.
"Yours?"
"Whose else would they be?"
"They most certainly are not. Hiei, though you've grown since were were children, I'd hardly say you're 6'7". Someone's had you on." Hiei's face fell immediately, dark clouds forming behind his gaze. Kurama could have sworn he'd heard a quiet "Mukuro" whispered after his precursory "tch," but didn't comment on it. He'd have guessed the same either way. "And why is it that you can't make this appointment on your own time?"
"I have errands to run. Of a time sensitive nature." At this, Kurama took on a falsely cheery tone.
"Yukina?"
"That's none of your concern."
Again, ice. Kurama would've beamed at the harsh treatment he was receiving if it didn't have the potential to pull him out of his own plans. On the one hand, Hiei being here, speaking to him while clearly wanting nothing to do with him, was fascinating. On the other, he had better things to do: namely wallow. Accepting Hiei's request would be the same as putting aside his own feelings and showing his face in front of Yusuke and company, but refusing would certainly lead him to leave. Hiei gone was no different than usual: same old life and misery. Hiei here... Well that was a mystery far too good to pass up.
"We'll have to redo these," Kurama tapped the paper with his forefinger, a dangerous face covering his usual neutral visage. "If I go, that is."
Hiei's expression changed a number of times in the second that the phrase was said, moving from horrified to conflicted to wary. Kurama watched its progress carefully, hoping to understand just what exactly Hiei had hoped to accomplish in coming back. The slight, pulse-quickening panic that rolled off of the fire demon was enough proof in Kurama's mind that this situation was less one he'd wanted than before, but that only made him more curious. With where they'd left things, after all, he'd not expected to see Hiei in another century.
"What do you have to measure?" The voice that broke through his thoughts was gruff, but it was a concession. Kurama didn't let his expression change, just wandered over to the kitchen drawer and dug around for a moment for measuring tape and a pencil. Walking back to where Hiei sat, Kurama made a move that looked as if he were handing the tape to Hiei, but pulled back.
"Hiei, I can't take your measurements if you're sitting." With the face he was given, Kurama added. "You can't possibly do this on your own. Come on, up."
Red eyes widened before narrowing, hard and accusatory. There was a moment of stalemate before the look faded out into ... Nothing. Hiei stood, calm and composed, stripped himself of his inner cloak, and waited patiently for Kurama to start and finish. The difference between what had occurred and what he'd expected had been drastic, and so Kurama held back the smile that wanted to push past his lips in realizing that it only meant he'd have to push harder.
The tape measure moved around his chest, Kurama stepping into the space in front of him, inches apart. Hiei couldn't control the way he tensed up with the shortening distance as Kurama leaned in to read the number he'd come to and mark it down on the slip of paper. With a quick movement, the tape slid down Hiei's back to wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him forward a bit: closer to the kitsune. Though Kurama wasn't meeting his eyes, he was looking him over, gaze sliding up and down in between numbers. Kurama licked his lips, reveling in the way his presence had sent goosebumps down Hiei's exposed arms, before dropping to his knees.
Hiei had to fight the urge to kick as a hand slid up his inner leg, the measuring tape wrapped around his thigh. The extent to which his physical measurements would be needed was unknown to him so he allowed it, but for no longer than he had to. When Kurama moved to his other leg - confirming the measurement, no doubt - Hiei slipped away, moving himself several paces backward. Kurama noted the disturbed expression painting his face with a feeling akin to victory; this, it seemed, was a challenge he had won.
"That should be enough for the tailor." Hiei breathed, at somewhat of a loss for words. The next sentence he struggled to get out, caught up in the other's mischievous grin. "You can get yourself sized up while you're there."
"Would that make you happy, Hiei?"
If Kurama had been expecting a reply, he did not get one. Hiei had fled vis a vis the open window faster than words could have been formed, leaving the kitsune to ponder the task he'd just volunteered for.
