A/N: Okay, so it has been a while with this story—sorry about that! I hope that this chapter will make up for the wait, because there's a lot packed into it: a spot of what's going on here, a lot of what's going on there, flashbacks, allusions, and crack. Yes, crack, putting it very simply. I hope with this chapter to have pushed a new boundary in crack-tastic-ness (and grammar), as well as the story's rating, which you might notice I've raised, due directly to this chapter's content. We get about half-way through this chapter, and you'll see what I mean.

Proceeding:

What's Yours is Mine
Chapter X
June 19, 2009

Botan yawned. This was no mere yawn: it was a yawn that made her face stretch double its natural length, that made her body follow suit to its fullest capacity, prompting the sporadic cracks and pops of various joints of various limbs. It was an astounding feat, that once completed, understandably left the performer dumped in a heap of limbs that were limp, and left in its wake a modest handful of spectators who, despite their small number, were no less dumbstruck by what they'd just witnessed.

Once his capacity for speech had returned, Kuwabara managed to make adequate commentary on the phenomenon with the remark, "I've only ever seen cats pull that off before."

"Whuh?" she half-yawned.

Seeing the Grim Reaper so exhausted was an oddity, but perhaps something about that sentiment was an oddity in itself. Nonetheless, it prompted the inquiry from Keiko, "Botan, are you feeling okay?"

"Huh?" Another yawn. "Yeah. I've just been in human form longer than usual today; I guess it's taken more out of me than I thought it would."

"Oh." For what might have been the first time in the shop's history, Keiko poured a cup of coffee for the ferry girl out of what she perceived as necessity.

"Kurama can't have that much work going back and forth, can he?" Kuwabara asked. He'd seen the folder Botan had with her, and it hadn't looked that big.

"I'm the one going back and forth," she said indignantly. "Which is harder than you'd think when you consider that Mukuro's fortress is known to move. And it's not just the work, you know. He certainly can't come back for visits, so it's up to me to keep his family caught up on what's happening to him and vice-versa. Which I guess technically Hiei could do, but I can see how he wouldn't want to leave Kurama alone."

BAM!

Ferry girl and psychic jumped as one of the drawers in the kitchen slammed, hard. Keiko appeared in the open doorway, paused when she caught them staring, and said, "What? I was jammed."

"Uh—Keiko, do you need any help at all?" Kuwabara asked.

"No," she said, disappearing from view again.

How is she? Botan mouthed. Kuwabara shrugged. When Yusuke stayed with him and Shizuru, which he wasn't this weekend, he'd taken to being gone all day, usually in the shop with Keiko, and not coming back until later in the evening, usually having already eaten dinner. Kuwabara knew the two had been talking, and obviously getting on well enough that the police hadn't had to come to the shop to break up any heated arguments. "Maybe she's mad Urameshi's gone this weekend," he murmured. Not that Yusuke didn't go make an appearance for the monks every few weekends anyhow, but this particular weekend he and his bald entourage were headed to Alaric. Something to do with a border town, Kuwabara thought. He was bound to run into Hiei there, and maybe—"How's Kurama doing?"

"I think he gets lonely still," Botan answered, "but not as much as when he first got there."

She'd made that observation before, on the loneliness. Kuwabara guessed that it might have been different if the child was born in Gandhara, where Kurama at least had a sort of leg-up: he was only acquaintances with most of the demon officials in Alaric; most of his friends and family were here. On top of that Botan had told him before that Kurama's physician was a demon that tried to kill him during Yusuke's Tournament—that didn't sound stressful, no, not at all. "Least he's got you and Hiei," he said, shrugging.

Yes: Botan was Kurama's link to home; he was always happy to see her, to listen closely while she recounted news to him, to sit closely beside her, practically on her.

And when it came to that, he would swiftly apologize, explaining in an embarrassed tone that the pregnancy was making him touchier than usual, and would reseat himself at a more conventional distance. Sometimes Botan wondered how the redhead was when it was just him and Hiei, but had enough self-preservation not to bring it up to either of them.

"Urrgghh!!"

Ferry-girl and psychic jumped, again. This time Keiko lurched out of the kitchen, exasperation plain on her face. Fixing a half-wild eye on Kuwabara, she sighed, and said, "Kuwabara, would you like some money to work this weekend?"

"Uh … Sure, Keiko," he replied, sharing a look with Botan before getting up to follow his temporary boss into the kitchen.

The matter at hand was that of the city of Kiwa, which had originally been a village on the border of Mukuro's territory, but had since expanded, and a small but nonetheless notable fraction of which now spilled over into Tourin. The issue was taxation, and several methods had been put into experiment before that of splitting the city along that border, and each fraction being taxed by whomever according to the territory on which that fraction rested, became the most likely to put into permanent execution. The present meeting between the Land of Alaric and the Lord of Tourin, and their appointees, was primarily over officiating everything. The matter at hand was actually quite simple, or should have been—.

"How can we be sure that, once having official possession of the minority fraction of Kiwa, Tourin won't try to accumulate more?"

Except that in attendance was a member of the Alarician cabinet that had entered the meeting in a choleric humor, and seemed determined to blur the distinction between Tourin and its leader, and substitute the personal for the political.

Sometimes, as now, Mukuro briefly wondered if an assassin might be had that could take care of her sometimes, as now, brash Second, but only sometimes. Besides, precedent elsewhere indicated that it wouldn't work out. "It would be a breach in contract, and leave Tourin open for a declaration of war to be made against it. Urameshi, I'm correct in assuming that those running Tourin would not be so stupid as to make such a move, aren't I?"

"Right," Yusuke said, ignoring the ugly look Hiei wore looking at him. "Even if I were that stupid, I don't think that Hokushin would let me pull it off."

"Were that he could sound the voice of reason elsewhere in your life," Hiei muttered in a low voice. Low for ominous effect, not low volume; he fully intended to be heard, and judging from the look on Yusuke's face, had succeeded.

He was heard elsewhere, too. "A break," Mukuro said, as a declaration, not a suggestion. "Lunch. When we reconvene, we'll finish this matter." She stayed while the other demons left the conference. So did Hiei.

So did Yusuke. "So that we're clear," he said to Hiei, "you think that I'm trying to work Kiwa into my land harem or something? Because that doesn't really make any sense."

"Please disregard anything that comes out of my Second's mouth," Mukuro said, "that would strike the general audience as incoherent, or plain stupid. Just as I will disregard them myself, as I'm sure it's a harmless if obnoxious byproduct of his anxiety over his mate."

To Hiei's infuriation, Yusuke had the gall to look concerned, and ask, "Is Kurama okay?"

Inflaming said infuriation, Mukuro answered, "His condition is not dangerous. The child had taken to the demonic climate with a passion, and has perhaps overwhelmed its mother by its enthusiasm, but only a little. Kurama is fine, if somewhat prone to hysteria time to time."

Yusuke's eyes widened while Hiei's narrowed. Mukuro had no fucking right to share that information, even if it was with the knowledge that Yusuke probably wouldn't fully understand what she meant.

And then Yusuke ventured what Hiei thought should be fatally too far, and asked, "Well, can I say Hi?"

NO! Hiei wanted to snap, but Kurama would probably like the visit. "Follow me," he said, grudgingly, as though it was a poison he was being forced to take.

He fixed a most potent death glare on Mukuro on his way out. She countered it with a vivid, livid blue eye along her steely bionic one.

Meanwhile, Yusuke wondered if such a tense environment was all that healthy for Kurama, and couldn't blame him if he got hysterical.

But Kurama looked fine when Yusuke saw him sitting on the couch in Hiei's suite. He was bent over some papers on the coffee table, and after he offered a surprised Hello and Yusuke returned it, the brunette asked, "Are you working?"

"Trying to," Kurama answered. It appeared that he'd had to discard most of the clothing borrowed from Kuwabara, having grown too large, though Yusuke recognized the sweatpants he was wearing. "I'm afraid that I passed an overall restless night; I've been trying not to all asleep. As it was, Hiei gave up and moved to the couch last night."

From the kitchen area, Hiei grunted. The child kept Kurama up a lot, and when he did sleep, it was as though he were fighting with the child to do so. Except that Hiei was the one who got prodded, or shoved, or hit. Absently the Jaganshi rubbed last night's victim, his shoulder, and set to making more coffee for himself while Kurama and Yusuke talked.

"Hey—I brought something for you," Yusuke said, gesturing to a small bag he had slung over one shoulder, "in case I did get to see you. I don't know how you pass the time here when you're by yourself and not working, so…" He pulled out and set on the table before Kurama a small stack of books. "I don't know if you have any of these, but there's a few you might be able to read to the kid when it's born, too."

Kurama looked the offering over. Work varied from Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask to that of Lewis Carroll. "Nihilism and absurdism," he murmured in amusement. "Is there something you're trying to tell me, Yusuke?" Yusuke replied with a weak smirk, perhaps not seeing the same humor that Kurama did.

"How are things at home?" the Fox asked him.

"Uh…" He shrugged. "Not bad. I've been couch-surfing a few different places, but mostly I've been at Kuwabara's because Grandma keeps trying to make me plant trees even though the ground's kind of freezing this time of year; and at my mom's … well, it's just kind of weird. Weirder than Kuwabara trying to buy me gay magazines"—Kurama widened his eyes, while in the kitchen Hiei smirked—"because he things that's being supportive even though I'm not gay."

Mildly Kurama inquired what Hiei snarled mentally: "What are you, then?"

Thinking a moment, Yusuke replied, "I can't know for sure. I've … I've thought about that a lot, as you know." He coughed, then continued: "I'm not into guys. In general, I mean—you're a guy." He tried as best he could without being obvious not to look at his male friend's middle, as one of his first thoughts entering the suite had been, Nice shape. "I think, maybe I'm a One—no, make that a Point Five." The numbers were lost on Hiei, but Kurama understood, and was vaguely impressed that Yusuke knew that Kinsey scale(1).

Here Yusuke's voice grew morose. "But I fucked a lot of shit up figuring out I'm maybe something. Not just my shit, it'd be one thing if it was just my shit." His features pinched into something guilty. "One of the reasons things got so weird staying at my mom's is she obviously wanted to know why I was there with her and not home with Keiko, and I maybe … gave her more of a reason than I needed to." He grimaced. "Another reason I couldn't stay with her, I was too irresponsible with all the booze."

Kurama had noticed that Yusuke looked thinner than usual. Shizuru and Kuwabara wouldn't let him flush out his health entirely with alcohol, but Kurama couldn't help but wonder what all Yusuke was eating, how much he was smoking. "I'm glad you recognized that, Yusuke."

"… I think I might have been … too irresponsible, when I was telling my mom why I was there anyhow. You know what she said? She said I really fucked up because the plus-side of knocking with a guy was that he wasn't supposed to get knocked up."

In Kurama's posture, a subtle stiffness made its presence known. In the kitchen, Hiei contemplated how he might throw his cup at Yusuke without its contents scalding Kurama too.

"Atsuko knows now?" the Fox managed, hurt in his tone.

"That there's a guy involved in the thing between me and Keiko, and the guy's a demon. I remembered to shut up after that much slipped out." Kurama remained reserved. He knew that Atsuko could tell that he was … not human, at least; but then the two of them crossed paths seldom. "I told her that it didn't matter," Yusuke assured him. "I told her that the guy was in the Makai anyway, and the kid already had a father aside from the one carrying it. She was worried about that, that I'd be such a douche bag to just shoot some seed and forget about it." Kurama was quiet. "But you seem to be doing good," Yusuke said, sounding like he wanted to move talk along. "You've got your family waiting on you, and Hiei here, so … I told her not to worry about it. I'm trying to fix everything else now."

"Botan told me you're working with Keiko again."

He nodded. "Yeah. We've been talking some stuff out, and…" He let it trail off, and shrugged. "But I fucked a lot of stuff up. I didn't know about you and Hiei before, but I did when I pulled the … the really loud fuck up. I fucked you and him over big time—and I fucked over Keiko. I hurt her real bad, I know that, so I know that it could still be a while before … if…." He blinked once, twice—then focused on Kurama and gave him a shaky smile. "I'm sorry, Kurama. But how're you? I mean, you've got to be having a hell of a time, your body doing everything it is to you and all."

Remorse on his face. Kurama could not help but pity him. "I'm fine, Yusuke," he assured the shiny-eyed brunette. "I'm almost done. In a couple of months, I'll be able to go home." Wherever their new home would be. "I hope that soon enough, you'll be able to go home as well."

Hiei cleared his throat. "Mukuro will want us back soon," he said, tossing Yusuke an apple. To Kurama he handed a glass of milk. "Yomi got loose, so we're out of milk until she's caught."

"Huh?" Yusuke caught the conflict in pronoun.

Kurama smiled, and explained. "Mukuro made a gift of a dairy goat to me." A Nubian nanny, imported from the Human World. Mukuro had worried that a complete transition in diet might overwhelm him. Kurama hadn't wanted to appear by pointing out that he didn't normally drink goat's milk; he adjusted easily enough. "Hiei thought to flatter our other lordly friend by making him a namesake."

The present "lordly friend" laughed. "Yeah, how'd the old Goat take the nanny?"

"All in good sport," Kurama replied. In elaboration: Yomi the First's face had contorted briefly in mild consternation when informed of the second, domestic, animal carrier of his name; and immediately after, in amusement. Personally speaking, Yomi the demon had said, he knew nothing of the function of lactation—but, he added in a jesting tone, Kurama would certainly enlighten him once able, wouldn't he?

"I think that Mukuro will want to see me later," Hiei told the Fox. "Us, if you want."

The humorous expression became one that seemed familiar to Yusuke, but even now he was seldom able to decipher. "I think so," Kurama replied, though he didn't sound certain.

He never sounded certain, but in this case, Hiei knew, "I think so" carried an affirmative connotation. "See you," he said, leading Yusuke to the door.

Whatever the ambiguous expression, Kurama hadn't seemed to suddenly plummet into low spirits. "Bye, Fox-boy."

The smile returned. "Good luck, Yusuke," he told the taller, departing brunette.

Perhaps Yusuke's visit ended on a good omen: Hiei was considerably more civil during the tail-end of the meeting.

True to his resolution, Hiei hadn't mixed anything of his with Kurama, and with the child de facto, since the day he'd first felt the contents of his mate's belly kick. This alleviated one sense of disturbance within his person, but in its place another was instated, as his regard on the matter seemed to be in the minority. While the demonic atmosphere invigorated Kurama's physiology, it did not satiate other needs that may or may not have been less basic, but were no less demanding. Consequently, Hiei's revulsion—which, he had to repeatedly insist, was due not to Kurama's change in shape, but to the sentient presence in the changed shape—was a source of frustration to Kurama.

Shortly after fixing his resolution, Hiei's boss took an interest in his snubbed mate.

"Hiei, do you know the meaning of the term 'hysteria'?" Mukuro asked him one day, when he'd fled his quarters to escape a spontaneous and violent eruption of emotion fro the Fox currently left alone in said quarters.

"I believe I just saw a vivid example in my bedroom," he replied wearily.

Mukuro looked like someone who'd just had some great theory confirmed. "I don't mean that definition," she told him. "Try to imagine the pressure he's under right now, if you can. Your phobia took away the outlet that his current condition had made choice for dealing with that pressure, made by this same condition."

Hiei was beginning to regret having let slip that he was withholding sex. "A phobia's an unjust fear," he argued. "And what about your fear is just?" Mukuro inquired.

"Plenty!" he snapped.

"Such as?"

His eyes narrowed, in contempt as well as in thought. "He's gotten big, because it's gotten big—and vigorous—and what if I … jostled him, and—and scrambled it?"

"Scrambled?" she repeated.

"Yes!" affirmed Hiei hotly. "Like eggs!" He paused, long enough to take several deep breaths. "I don't want to do anything that could hurt it, or him. I'm—cautious."

"I think he'd sooner say neglectful."

"Yeah?" Hiei bristled. "And you have a better idea?"

Mukuro raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully—as did Hiei, curiously.

Hiei hadn't realized how precious Kurama's "outlet" was until an incident occurred with Shigure that he heard second hand. The physician's prodding had stirred Kurama, who in embarrassment cut the session short, and burst into outraged tears once behind the suite's doors.

Of course Hiei had witnessed the aftermath, but hadn't heard the cause until Kurama related it, in front of him—to Mukuro.

"… Why didn't you tell me?" he tried. He was seated in the chair opposite the couch on which the two redheads sat, in his boss's living room.

"You're no help!" Kurama snapped at him, and then grumbled something Hiei thought sounded like "scrambled eggs." He kept rubbing agitated circles on his stomach.

Mukuro gestured for quiet, and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the Fox. This incident had occurred while she was in the bath, and she wore only a robe. "I don't know you as well as I know Hiei," she told him, "or Hiei knows you. But I know your kind's nature, and I know that returning to your native world has stirred that nature's more primal aspects."

He stopped rubbing circles; she reached forward and stroked the knuckles of one of his hands. "And I know that your current state"—Mukuro's hand left his, and splayed over his belly—"makes you all the more susceptible."

Kurama felt the occupant inside stir against the touch. Blood rushed to the surface of his face. What a day this was playing out to be.

Something changed in Mukuro's face. "Did Shigure do this…?" she murmured.

He inhaled, filling his body with air, making the hand upon it, not his hand, rise up, even as this same hand, not his hand, moved up…

From his position as spectator, Hiei widened his eyes.

"Oh!" But Kurama's face was hot. He sank his teeth deep into his lip, suppressing a whimper as the Lord of Alaric fondled his nipples through his shirt, and through his shirt his nipples perked in response, pointing outward, closer to those probing fingers, enabling those probing fingers, that stroked and held between thumb and forefinger first one and then the other, that first one and then the other twisted—"Oh!"

Mukruo ceased tormenting Kurama through his shirt; he moaned, in foreboding or in pleasure, Hiei knew not, while she undid and slid away his tunic, slid his tunic down, down to his waist, where she found the hem of his undershirt and pulled up, up over his head; and down to his waist, swaddled in his rolled-down tunic and swollen with child, he was naked. he was naked, and his nipples stuck out, bright pink and painfully stiff, with nothing to shield them now when Mukuro resumed experimenting.

When Mukuro resumed experimenting, lowering her head as she did.

Green (and red) eyes shot wide open. Pressing, caressing his nipple, that was warmth, that was wetness, that was tongue.

There was a swell between his legs.

Lightly Mukuro ground her teeth on the painfully perked nub, and then moved to the other, which she had kept ready with her hand.

Meanwhile, Hiei watched. The display made for a potent result overall, and yet the only clear reaction it managed to wrench from Hiei was the vaguely stupefied thought, What the hell?

Kurama's body was glowing under a film of sweat, and his eyes wore a similar, dreamy film over their lenses. Said eyes and Hiei's caught each other, locked into each other, held for one, two, three moments…

And then Mukuro's lips, which had begun directing kisses southward, reached the bunch of fabric, pushed it down, and hit a certain spot; and the latter pair of eyes widened while the former pair squeezed shut and their owner let out a long, loud moan.

When the eyes opened again, they focused again on Hiei, who thought again, What the hell?, and moved forward, toward the couch. Kurama raised one glistening arm, and delicately a finger traced first one of Hiei's clavicles, and then the other, and made a feathery trail up Hiei's throat. It reached his lower lip, hooked over his lower lip, and tugged gently. Hiei, not knowing what to do, went with it, bending forward, bracing his hands on the arm and the edge of the couch, adjusting one when his wrist brushed the side of Kurama's swell. It hadn't been a long time since he'd kissed Kurama, he'd kissed him last night; maybe, he just hadn't done so very … elaborately, lately…

Which was apparently what Kurama had been craving—he seized both hands round the back of Hiei's head and pulled so hard that the Jaganshi lost his footing and had to grip the couch arm harder to keep from falling forward face-first. Awkwardly he held himself, his head hovering over Kurama's, his tongue moving in reaction to Kurama's.

However, when Kurama turned toward him, tried to pull him closer to he'd be on the couch too, he resisted, and pulled back. He didn't want to feel the swell of Kurama's stomach, and he certainly didn't want Kurama to feel the swell between his legs.

He broke free, tugging his shirt back in place, pulling it down over his pants, futilely—his shirt was too short to cover his crotch. Kurama stared at him blankly, and he returned the stare just as blankly, shaking his head in a mechanical fashion.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mukuro sitting on the end of the couch, watching him. For the first time it bothered him that she was a woman: while her face was flushed, intensifying the blue of her natural eye, he couldn't tell how aroused she was from just looking between her legs, which were closed and crossed and mostly covered anyway. Her intensified blue eye and its bionic counterpart continued gazing at him, and he found himself tilting his face so that his two red eyes made direct contact with hers.

He shook his head. "No," he told her, told Kurama, told no one in particular. He backed away from the couch, shook his head more vigorously. "No."

Nothing. No order, or lecture, or taunt. Instead, Mukruo turned her attention away from him, onto Kurama. For the Fox's part, his gaze lingered on Hiei, eyes shining still, though Hiei wasn't sure what the film was made from anymore.

Hiei was almost relieved when Mukuro crawled up and tilted the redhead's face her way and kissed him, rubbing his nipples while she did, rubbing her crotch up against his knee while she did. Hiei watched Kurama close his eyes and curl his toes, edging his knee against her and rocking his hips while she rocked hers. She stopped teasing his nipples; her own breasts hung down and rested against his chest, and their pert tips brushed against his. The two continued moving in their strange position, and for a moment Hiei thought, but would never tell Kurama out of respect for the Kitsune's current sensitivity on the matter, of two women together.

He closed his eyes and heard his mate and his boss both announce their peaks with a series of low-high-low, rich-sounding moans, which made him visualize syrup. He bit his lip to prevent any sort of sympathetic utterance, and it was all he could do to keep from coming in his pants.

Of course, Mukuro wasn't looking to start anything with Kurama the way Yusuke might have. After a session or two similar to the first, Hiei's jealousies overcame his reluctance, and would no longer permit him to act as mere spectator while his boss worked his mate.

No, not "worked." Kurama had accused him before, when he'd asked only a little sardonically, how it was with Mukuro, of being intimate with him in much the same manner as whoever procured his milk for him was with the damn goat while they "worked" it. Hiei's explanations had never been well-received by the Fox, who whenever Hiei did explain would in turn accuse: clinical, disinterested, passionless, repulsed.

And so he bit his tongue, and took the bait his boss threw at. Going from her example, Hiei tried overcoming his inhibitions and sought out alternative methods of helping Kurama. If Mukuro could do it without putting anything of hers inside the Fox, mingling it with the child, then so could he.

Which brought them to the point they were at now: Mukuro, the spectator, watching and sometimes instructing Hiei, the lover. Hiei, the lover, presently drawing out a rich, syrupy moan from Kurama, using a dildo that Mukuro has assured him was completely new and completely sterile. Plastic, too—easily cleaned.

"A-AH!" Kurama cried, arching his back. Hiei edged backward, avoiding the rising belly, but at the same time squeezing, kissing his mate's hand.

"Not too hard," Mukuro told Hiei. It wasn't entirely his doing; Kurama kept rocking his hips in a manner that slid up on the dildo. Slowly the Jaganshi slid it out, set it aside on the sheets. "Sh," he said, replying to Kurama's sighs, while trying to soothe himself. Not time yet.

Mukuro leaned over, pushed aside damp red hair and kissed a glistening temple. Kurama heaved another sight, brushed his hand against hers.

And then the Fox eased up, and reached out toward Hiei, reaching toward the exposed swell between his naked legs.

"H-Huuh," he gasped, leaning into Kurama's touch. He spread his legs wider, allowing Kurama more access to the sac hanging between them, squeezed his eyes shut when Kurama took advantage.

He arched forward into Kurama's arms, recoiling only a little when his flat stomach met Kurama's rounded belly. Behind him he felt Mukuro rubbing his shoulders, hands moving slowly, deeply.

"No," he half-groaned, half-growled when he felt Kurama's hair brush his chest, trailing downward. He didn't want Kurama ingesting anything of his right now, though the Fox frequently tried.

The head ceased its descent. As soon as its pace stopped, Kurama's hand increased that of its task, invigorated by each moan that escaped Hiei's lips.

He yelled, threw his body forward and clung to Kurama's while he came. A pair of hands kneading between his shoulders complemented the sensation between his legs.

Once he was finished, he was content to lie close by, tickling Kurama's hand with the touch of his own, while Mukuro moved in, laid Kurama out, and helped the Fox reach satiation.

Later, when the third party had left them, Hiei positioned himself behind Kurama, wrapped his arms around Kurama, and let his energy flow. Due to the natural energy found in the Makai atmosphere, the Fox didn't need donors like he had in the Human World, but it was a pleasant experience nonetheless. His energy was the one thing that he didn't mind putting in Kurama.

A stomach growled. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

Kurama made a murmur of affirmation. "Perhaps we could have scrambled eggs," the redhead said dryly.

Even though they'd found a way to work around it, Hiei still caught skepticism over being squeamish toward a fetus. "Yeah," he replied just as dryly. "With onions and hot sauce and toast and—"

His mate wriggled away from him. "Put up or shut up," Kurama told him.

Smirking, Hiei rolled out of bed and went into the kitchen, reaching the fridge past the pitcher of fresh milk (Yomi the goat had been captured that evening) for the basket of eggs.

The shop had been closed for an hour, and Keiko was paying Kuwabara for his help over the weekend when a knock was heard on the front door. There on the other side stood Yusuke, looking slightly jaundiced in the wash of the yellow street lights.

"Looks like Hiei didn't kill you, Urameshi," Kuwabara remarked once Keiko had unlocked the door and let Yusuke in.

"Oh hah, hah," Yusuke retorted, though his heart wasn't in it—he was tired. "He looked like he wanted to for a while, but he mellowed out a bit toward the end of the meeting. How'd everything hold up here?"

"Fantastic," the carrot-top said proudly. "Keiko says that I'm more organized than you are, that I complain less, and that the back door doesn't smell as noxious when I'm working and you're not back there smoking it up."

"Well congratulations, Kuwabara, and may I say that I'm thrilled in my part helping you realize your ultimate goal of fry cook."

Keiko rolled her eyes as both boys made several faux advances at each other, then settled on glaring from their spots across the room from each other. "Did everything go well?" she asked Yusuke.

"Yeah. Well, Hiei tried being a douche bag during the meeting, but again, he mellowed out for the end of it. Which is good, because he was starting to piss Mukuro off."

"… Did you see Kurama at all?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah, for a little bit. He's big. Oh, and," he looked at Kuwabara, "I hope it won't break your heart if you don't get your old gym sweats back." Back to Keiko, "I talked to him for a little bit, gave him some books since I don't know how he spends the days over there. He asked about you."

"He did?"

"Yeah. I said you were doing okay… though I guess I kind of left you high and dry this weekend if you had to resort of Kuwabara,"—who flipped him off—"so sorry about that."

"It's fine." Keiko looked him over. "You look very tired."

Yusuke shrugged it off. "I'll be going to bed soon anyway. Kuwabara, you ready to go back to your place?"

"Wait," Keiko told him. He gave her a curious look while she disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later she reappeared, carrying a Styrofoam container. "We already ate," she said, gesturing to Kuwabara and herself, "but I doubt you've had any dinner if you just got back…"

He took the container without even looking at what was in it, he was so hungry. "Thanks," he told her. "I'll … see you in the morning." He gave her a smile, and waved, before following Kuwabara out the door.

At first she said nothing, then called after him, "Get some sleep, Yusuke," before the door shut.

A/N: Yukio Mishima was a Japanese author back around the 1950s. He committed suicide after a failed coup d'état on the post-WWII Japanese government. The book, Confessions of a Mask, follows a man who struggles with homosexual attractions (Mishima himself was also gay). When I read it I found it sort of reminiscent of Catcher in the Rye—as in, to me, What the hell was the point? So here I'm going to call it nihilistic, which put in the simplest of layman's terms means something like, No point—There is nothing at the end, so there is no point trying to do anything. Absurdism, on the other hand, says something like, Maybe there's nothing at the end, but there may be something fulfilling in the endeavor nonetheless.

Though the term "hysteria" nowadays refers to when someone's severely overwhelmed, originally it referred to a female condition (its root means "uterus") back in the quaint Victorian days of old, that today we look back at and recognize as female sexual tension. Before it was no longer considered a medical condition, a common treatment involved the application of a vibrating instrument to the vulva, which calmed the patient down, and said instrument (that's right, vibrators) were frequently advertised alongside other medical devices in commonplace magazines.

1. Kinsey scale – named for Alfred Kinsey. Measures human sexuality on a scale of 0-6, with 0 being exclusively heterosexual and 6 being exclusively homosexual.

As always, commentary is most welcome. This has been über-nerd!