A/N: Second installation for my self-assigned Halloween project: one monster/human one-shot a week in October. (All different fandoms/ships, subject to my whims, lol)

Freaks Come Out at Night

Kuwabara's feet pound against wet pavement as he dashes down the street, fast as he can but not fast enough to get home before the storm hits. He curls over his precious cargo and skirts around a puddle just in time, yellow glow from the streetlamps glinting off of it.

They don't do much to illuminate the thick dark, those lights. Muffled by the torrential downpour and all these angry clouds blotting out the stars. It's just barely enough illumination to keep Kuwabara from falling on his face –

And even that is a near thing, but he won't trip. Not with a kitten in his arms. He could drop it – or land on it. That'd be terrible!

He doesn't want this tiny creature (he's still working on a name) to get wet, though, and there's only so much cover that he himself can provide. His clothes are already soaked through; the rain isn't letting up anytime soon. At this rate the kitten won't make it home unscathed and he doesn't want to cause it more trauma, or get it sick.

So he's gotta find somewhere to hole up until this storm ends.

…

The only problem is that this section of neighborhood is pretty much deserted, with public spaces few and far between. There isn't even much of a sidewalk in this residential area. He's not about to go busting into someone's home unless things get really dire…

Ah! That's right!

There's someplace just up ahead that should be perfect, so Kuwabara pours on the speed, pressing the squirming shivering kitten to his chest. "Just a little further," he assures her, rounding one last corner.

And then he's there, skidding to a turn on cracked concrete and darting down a muddy path, thankful that his sneakers have decent tread.

Sanctuary takes the shape of an ancient looming structure, two stories, all boarded up and falling apart. Kuwabara doesn't bother standing to gawk, not even when a flash of lightning lights up the place. He's passed it before, in daylight and nighttime alike. It's all broken windows and creaky floorboards and overgrown yard, but he hurries up the crumbling front steps without a second thought.

Wooden siding is grown over with ivy and dark with decay, so much so that it all obscures the door – not that it really matters if he could find it, anyway. It's got a big heavy padlock on it that he's got no time to pick.

But it's no problem. The place is supposed to be haunted (it is haunted, if the chill that sweeps up Kuwabara's spine is accurate as usual) and so neighborhood kids have forged a way inside. Kuwabara usually keeps well clear of the place. Not because he's scared, mind you. Only because he's had his fair share of ghost encounters without trying, and sees no point in going out of his way to chase more.

…He did go in once, though. To get a friend out.

Tonight, just like that time, he doesn't have much choice but to go in.

So, he knows how to get inside, is the point, and he clambers to the very edge of the rickety old porch, avoiding pitfalls, rainwater dripping through holes in the overhanging roof. It's even harder to see up here, away from the street. Luckily the dark gap of that open window is hard to miss.

It isn't quite wide enough for him – he was younger, last time, not as tall or as broad – so he shifts the kitten to one arm, and pulls at old rotted wood until it gives, splintering away and leaving a wider hole.

The broken-off board clatters to the porch, and Kuwabara easily steps over it, squeezing his way into this old house.

There are tons of theories and stories and conspiracies about who used to live here. Classics like the murderer under the bed or the escaped convict, and all that, but nobody really knows for sure. Kuwabara bets there are some documents with official names on them somewhere around this old place or in the town's archives, if anyone cared to actually go digging. As it is, all he knows for sure about whoever abandoned this house is that they had shitty taste in furniture.

Whatever's left inside is an unfortunate mess. Peeling wallpaper and stuffing torn out of armchairs. He's in the den, he thinks. There's the filthy shell of a fireplace with trash blown into it. A loveseat missing all of its cushions. What used to be an ottoman. Tarnished mirror that reflects the lightning but not much else.

It's even darker inside than out, but at least it's mostly dry, from what Kuwabara can tell.

And…

There's definitely a presence here, aside from himself and the cat he holds close. Going deeper into the house isn't necessary, at least. Kuwabara will only be lingering until the rain lets up.

That presence he feels is kinda far away. Upstairs? No, farther. More likely the attic, he thinks, as he backs himself against the wall just to the side of the window, wedging himself into a corner where the wet from outside won't reach when it blows its way inside. He can keep the kitten warmer like this.

He'll mind his own business, and hopefully whatever lingering spirit haunts this place will mind theirs.

A scenario like that is pretty much how it went when he snuck in here to get Kirishima out, back in middle school, after that dare gone wrong. The ghost itself was nowhere to be seen that night, just Kirishima cowering near the stairs, surrounded by a mess.

Books and couch cushions and broken glass that are all probably still scattered similarly, if Kuwabara cared to venture into the entryway to look.

As it is, he doesn't. He's just happy that this place is still standing at all.

It's even kind of peaceful, if you ignore how derelict everything is. With the rain pattering against the roof and the rumble of overhead thunder. Not bad ambience when you're indoors, with a kitten to extract from your shirt and coo at. She's a lively little thing, safely dry. Letting out the tiniest mews imaginable, protesting the fact that she can't wander around.

"No you don't," Kuwabara says, wrapping his palm around her delicate ribcage to keep her close. She weighs next to nothing – he makes a sort of circle with his legs, feet pressed together, and lets her scamper around in there. Repeatedly pulls her back from trying to climb out.

He chuckles to himself at her antics, and –

And then comes the knocking. That sure didn't take long…

Heaving a sigh, Kuwabara picks the kitten back up to hold her to his torso, no matter how she squirms. "It figures," he grumbles, folding his legs together. Frowning into the dark of the room.

The knocking boosts to a more frantic rapping, coming from inside the walls themselves, and Kuwabara barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's impolite to disparage spirits. Especially ones as volatile as poltergeists, which Kuwabara assumes this is. The knocking and the mess imply enough power to interact with the physical realm. Hopefully this one doesn't bear a grudge against the living, and only wants to be a mundane bother; vengeful spirits are the worst.

Since this house is empty, and the spirit's been around for decades, Kuwabara also reasons that they're an unattached poltergeist, manifested on their own rather than through someone's unchecked emotional telekinesis…he's always thought that theory was bunk anyway…he's never seen anything like it, at least.

Oh, seems like they're an easily bored poltergeist. They've already progressed to footsteps. First just overhead, heavy and slow. Then creaking like they're on the stairs, descending, coming closer. Now fast as if they're scampering right past in front of him – but Kuwabara doesn't see anything yet.

A pretty good mimic, then. Or maybe, this spirit no longer has a visible form. Not even an orb.

The chill creeping up Kuwabara's spine tells him that the former is more likely. Lately, in his experience, more poltergeists have been relying on visible scares. Lower energy and lower risk than unseen physical attacks. He theorizes.

…And to think. He's gone a full week without any type of ghostly encounter. His luck was bound to run out sooner or later and it just figures that it's a poltergeist who breaks it.

Breaks that, along with a whole lot of other things, actually. This ghost.

A cluster of fine china appears near the ceiling, drops, smashes on the floor – and it only gets a jump out of Kuwabara because he was busy watching the bounce of that shredded armchair cushion at the time.

This is quite the talented spirit. It's no wonder they're this strong, if they've been around as long as the rumors.

Kuwabara blinks, his eyes adjusted to the dark, and watches as scratches claw themselves into the wallpaper at the far side of the room. Dated, faded print peels itself off with a dreadful tearing sound, and drifts slow to the floor. Ominous, combined with the thunder overhead.

That poor tarnished mirror is the next to go. Shattering for no apparent reason – Kuwabara curls both hands around the kitten and presses her to his chest, protecting her from shards that fly every which way.

The mirror's golden frame crashes to the ground, empty of glass. It crumples in on itself on impact.

Laughter accompanies the crazed mirror shards as they tear into furniture, decimate the threadbare rug, rattle up the chimney, embed themselves into walls, whiz right past Kuwabara's nose – skirt the damp, drooping curls of his hair –

"Watch it!" Kuwabara snaps, bending his knees up to further shield his newly-adopted kitten (because he will be keeping her). "Doesn't this seem excessive to you, doing everything at once?!"

More of that raucous laughter, and a strong breeze slams several doors closed-then-open, banging their handles against the wall. Still those shards continue their scattered flight, almost like they're dancing on the breeze. A few launch themselves out the window, two more land scant centimeters from Kuwabara's feet, stuck fast in the floor.

The kitten – Eikichi, Kuwabara decides – digs her little claws into his shirt, trying to climb up him and mewling sadly. Such a tiny noise, among all the ruckus, and it's got him frowning harder. Dropping a kiss to her small fuzzy head.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, only to her. Then he lifts his head and addresses the poltergeist louder. "You're disturbing a perfectly peaceful thunderstorm, you know!"

Another laugh from the spirit – this time a tangible mocking, "Hah!" – and that icy trickle down Kuwabara's nape spreads through his limbs. He shivers before he can help it, wonders if he ought to take his chances with the rain after all. But most poltergeists are more mischievous than mean, and surely this one will relax after they wear themselves out some…

The breeze is closer. Those last few bits of mirror rain down, collecting themselves sloppily in the remains of the frame –

And then there's the phantom sensation of teeth.

Teeth! They nip right at the sharp of Kuwabara's cheekbone. Scraping faint marks into his skin.

He slaps one hand to his face, over the spot, mouth agape as he stares wide-eyed at a disturbed patch of dust nearby. It swirls with laughter. Mocking him. Even as Eikichi pokes at him with her small nose, and he fits her back in his hand. Covering as much of her as possible.

"Did you just bite me?" he asks the unsettled dust. It's clinging at the edges of a specter – one that's clearer now than it was before. Head thrown back on a cackle that abruptly chokes to a halt.

The spirit's head tips forward, then. Slowly, with eyes that blink once. They look more real by the second, ghostly-translucent but no longer invisible, not by a long shot. It works out well, because with this improved view, Kuwabara can aim his frown right at the face of that overactive poltergeist.

Said poltergeist waves a hand out in front of them, and Kuwabara wrinkles his nose, clutching Eikichi close.

Then that hand outstretches, ghostly fingers reaching for Kuwabara.

He swats them away, for all the good that does. They aren't really tangible, see, so it's more like his hand glides right through them, leaving each finger feeling frozen to the bone. "Cut it out!" he says, watching the spirit's hand reform and retract.

The poltergeist stares at their own hand, for a moment. Vague outline of a man. Kuwabara's pretty sure.

"Did you just see me?" comes the very much legible question. Echoing haunted quality easing off a few ticks. Like the act is dropping – only, it's never an act, with ghosts.

"Of course," Kuwabara scoffs. He gets both hands wrapped around Eikichi, again, nice and secure.

"Huh." Ghost man flexes his hand. "Nobody's ever seen me before."

…Oh. That's…well, Kuwabara would say that's a shame, but is it, really? Poltergeists do some of their best work while unseen, traditionally speaking. And they usually aren't that much to look at, anyway, even when they are visible. Warped souls warping their corporeal forms to match. "That's because you don't show yourself to anyone."

"Stupid. People are just too dumb to see me!"

Kuwabara bristles where he sits. "Then if I'm so stupid, how's come I can see you?" Can see more and more of him, even. Slicked-back hair and fitted jeans. Slim shirt, a nice jacket, and a face that's – hm.

A face that doesn't quite mesh with Kuwabara's predetermined profile of poltergeists.

"Dunno," is all the poltergeist has to say for himself. It comes along with a roguish smile that for some reason sparks a weird fluttering in the pit of Kuwabara's stomach. Can't be nerves. Especially not when paired with the warmth he can feel pooling in his cheeks.

That expression, along with the thick of the poltergeist's eyebrows, one arched that much higher than the other –

All of it combines to get Kuwabara spitting out a traitorous, "You're the most handsome poltergeist I've ever seen," before he can help it.

It's not his fault – most ghosts that have plagued him since childhood are scary or ugly! Poltergeists he's had the misfortune of seeing are usually shriveled bitter little things capable of stretching and contorting themselves in horrifying ways, but…this is a…a properly formed man. Mischievous glint in eyes that flicker in and out of brown, when they manage to hold color. Something else strange for a spirit.

Still! Kuwabara didn't mean to say that – and now this obnoxious noisy ghost is grinning wider.

"Handsome, huh?"

"Shut up!" Kuwabara shrieks, mortified. "Go away!"

Obnoxious little smirk still in place, the poltergeist doesn't seem inclined to go away. Which, really, isn't a surprise. "Nah," he says, "I think I wanna stay riiight here." With that, he flops down into a graceless seat on the ground. Legs sprawled in front of him so his spectral sneakers are nearly brushing Kuwabara's solid pair, he props himself on ghostly hands.

Great. Just great! Not-pouting, Kuwabara folds further in on himself. Hiding behind his knees won't do any good, and he has to be careful not to squish Eikichi – but he's backed into a corner, here. "Fine."

"I'm Yusuke Urameshi," the poltergeist introduces, his head tilted to examine Kuwabara.

He's using a bit more scrutiny than Kuwabara is comfortable with. Still, he squares his shoulders. He's dealt with worse ghosts! Ones that had actual ill-intent. This one is just…annoying. And handsome. As Kuwabara mentioned. Out loud. "…Kazuma Kuwabara."

Dark, finely arched eyebrows raise toward Urameshi's hairline. Thunder sounds overhead, and with an impish grin he recites, "Kuwabara Kuwabara!" and makes a show of watching for lightning.

The next strike doesn't hit them. Of course.

Jolts far away, crackling somewhere that Kuwabara can't pinpoint from his corner. All he sees is the resulting bright flash.

"Heh, you're good luck," Urameshi says. He lifts a foot and drops his heel atop Kuwabara's toes. No weird ghostly sensation here – that's a solid foot that strikes with a lazy sort of force –

But then when Kuwabara tries to kick it back in revenge, it goes all intangible. It figures. He scowls in Urameshi's direction, but all he gets is another of those smiles. Amused and giddy-like. It doesn't offset the chill that sweeps up Kuwabara's leg from the ghostly contact. Not really.

"Maybe I'll keep you around," Urameshi muses, leaning back on his hands, eyes roving upward in faux thought. "Seems like you might come in handy during thunderstorms."

That is not at all funny. Kuwabara scoffs at it. "You can't keep me here, y'know."

Everyone knows that poltergeists are only capable of driving people away. They're nowhere near as experienced at holding people hostage (though that's not to say they haven't tried; he's heard stories).

Urameshi's stupid dumb terrible attractive head tips to the side again, and that stupid dumb terrible attractive smirk stretches his lips. Shows off a hint of gleaming teeth. Those same ones that bit Kuwabara. He looks awful comfortable in his not-skin for someone who's been alone and invisible all these years. "Oh," he says, "can't I?"

Oh, Kuwabara does not like the tone of that –

And he's right to dislike it, turns out, because, before he knows it, Eikichi is slipping through his fingers.

She's – the poor thing is levitating as if held by the scruff of her neck, tiny legs kicking as she's lifted high into the air! Kuwabara yelps, leaping to his feet, but Urameshi's convenient poltergeist powers are faster, taking Eikichi up and up and up, toward the decrepit ceiling until she's far out of Kuwabara's considerable reach.

He can't even reach her by jumping, his fingers barely skimming her back feet. "Eikichi!" he calls, because she's meowing for him, eyes all sad. He turns his attention to Urameshi. "Put her down!"

"I wonder if I should," Urameshi says. He's not even pretending to ponder. Just grinning up at Kuwabara from his own leisurely sprawl on the floor.

"Yusuke, you pain in the ass," Kuwabara growls, jumping for the ceiling again, grabbing at Eikichi but not wanting to hurt her. "Put her down or I'll beat you up!" Ignoring the fact that Urameshi is a selectively intangible spirit. It's the threat that counts. Or however the saying goes.

There's no move on Urameshi's part to lower poor Eikichi just yet. He mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, "Damn, you're tall," and then adds a louder, "Is that any way to talk to a tragic trapped spirit?"

Grumbling under his breath, Kuwabara stalks past Urameshi. Kicks at one of those translucent legs as he goes, accepting the extra chill through his wet shoes. "There's nothing tragic about you," he says, grabbing hold of that busted old armchair and dragging it over, determined to get to Eikichi somehow –

She falls, then. Urameshi drops her!

Kuwabara abandons the chair where it is and darts forward, arms outstretched to catch and cradle Eikichi's trembling shape close. "Eikichi – are you okay?" He wraps both hands around her, holding her in front of his face, searching her for damage. She seems fine…

"Nice catch," Urameshi says

Rounding on him, Kuwabara kicks out – again meeting only icy air. "What did you do that for?!"

"Calm down!" Urameshi kicks right back, only his attack makes contact, leaving what's sure to be a bruise on Kuwabara's shin. "She's fine, isn't she?"

"No thanks to you." Thoroughly disgruntled, Kuwabara gives up on kicking. Walks pointedly around Urameshi. Ducks back into his corner and sits down heavy, legs folding beneath him, frowning as he clutches Eikichi's tiny warm shape to his chest.

Brownish eyes roll. Urameshi isn't even the least bit sorry. "I knew a softie like you would catch her."

…

That…shouldn't be making Kuwabara blush. Especially not considering it was said in such a snide sneering tone, but. Here he is. Cheeks warm. Particularly the one Urameshi bit earlier. The hell was that about, anyway? Stupid poltergeist shenanigans wrecking the peace along with the entire room…

Kuwabara focuses on rubbing at Eikichi's chin with his knuckle. "You must've been alone for a long time to have such terrible people skills," he grumbles out. It's all he can think of to say.

(Aside from, "Why did you bite me on the face?" but that is too close to, "You're handsome," for comfort.)

As appears to be the case with most things, Urameshi seems largely unbothered by this comment. He shrugs one shoulder, and scooches forward. In closer to Kuwabara. For reasons unknown. "A handful of decades," he says. "But I didn't think much of people before dyin' anyway."

That explains a lot.

"Besides," Urameshi continues, corner of his mouth twitching as he nudges Kuwabara's knee with a foot (not kicking, this time), "my people skills are as good as they need to be. I had you pegged as a softie right away, didn't I?"

Swatting at that invasive foot, Kuwabara is surprised when his touch connects. Just on the first swipe. Afterward he might as well be fighting off chilly fog. "Stupid – I could still beat your ass…"

"Ha! As if. Even if you could touch me, you wouldn't stand a chance."

Rude. Presumptuous, too.

Kuwabara is all set to protest that, but in an altogether disarming move, Urameshi shifts forward enough to settle his calves on either side of Kuwabara. Effectively penning him in. So close that the cool of his presence seeps through Kuwabara's rain-damp jeans. Urameshi's posture still looks perfectly relaxed. Like the proximity doesn't faze him.

Offense tumbling out of his head, all Kuwabara can do is scoff. "You wish," he mutters. Tries to focus on Eikichi. Not Urameshi. Anything but that alluring face and those legs spread around him. He clears his throat. "How'd you die, anyway?"

It might be an insensitive question, and is one that Kuwabara doesn't ordinarily ask (for that crossing-personal-boundaries reason, but also because sometimes he already knows how they died, thanks to that particular ghost's infamy), but he's beyond worrying over whether he'll offend Urameshi.

…And he's curious, too. Sue him.

Fortunately, Urameshi is as nonplussed as ever. "Hit by a car, right out front." He waves a hand toward the road. "Some kid ran out and I was too slow to save us both. Dumb brat. There's no damn sidewalks in this neighborhood – they still haven't fixed that problem. Maybe I oughta haunt the city council instead…?"

Huh.

That's more than Kuwabara really bargained for.

Urameshi doesn't seem the type to rescue children, but then again, there's that saying about books and covers. Kuwabara is the last person who should be judging. He won't say anything about how saving a kid's life doesn't line up with Urameshi's self-reported distaste for other people.

In fact. It kind of awakens…sympathy, in Kuwabara. Respect? Something like that, aimed at Urameshi.

"So you didn't live here?"

"Hell no – I lived all the way across town." Urameshi, apparently very, very comfortable, shifts again. Lifts one leg and props his knee atop Kuwabara's, hooking it over. It's a move that sets Kuwabara gulping. Staring hard at that translucent leg, cool against his own. "This house already had a bunch of haunted rumors about it, see, so I thought I'd check it out, when I came back all see-through.

"Turns out those stories were all bullshit. There was nothing here but cobwebs." Urameshi's face stretches on a grin. The playful, dangerous kind that makes Kuwabara want to frown. "Figured I might as well put some substance behind it all."

This time, Kuwabara doesn't bother fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "You went a little farther than substance," he grouches. "You're way too loud and violent."

"Only when people deserve it." Urameshi pauses, thoughtful. "Or when they bother me."

Yeah, Kuwabara kind of figured as much. Still – it's not like Urameshi's ever killed anyone, or caused severe harm in general. The worst he's inflicted were some bruises. Maybe a concussion. The tall tales stack it all up higher than it actually is; Kuwabara's read the factual, credible articles.

…Plus. As he watches Eikichi attempt to attack Urameshi's nearby shoelaces (with minimal success), he finds it hard to connect this lounged shape with anything overly malicious.

Especially so when Urameshi bobs his foot, playing right back. His leg goes tangible atop Kuwabara's.

The weight of it brings more shivers. For some reason.

Hair rising on the nape of Kuwabara's neck…

Out of nowhere, Urameshi snaps his fingers. "Aha! That's where I've seen you before," he announces without preamble, Kuwabara jarring back from his reverie. "You're the guy that came rushing in here a few years back to rescue his scaredy-cat friend."

On Kirishima's behalf, Kuwabara bristles. "He was not a scaredy-cat! Anyone would be shaken after you threw the whole house at them!" Urameshi laughs. Like that accusation is funny. It is not an attractive look on him, all that glee. "Wh-where do you keep getting so much stuff to smash anyway? Shouldn't you have destroyed the whole place, by now?"

Snickering to himself for another moment, Urameshi tips forward. He reaches into Kuwabara's lap, his hands phasing through one of Kuwabara's to get at Eikichi, cupping her small face. Ruffling her fur. She bites at his fingers in retaliation, and Kuwabara tries very hard not to find anything about it endearing.

In fact! He wishes Eikichi would bite harder! Go on, girl, take proper revenge for the way this mean old ghost tormented you!

"All kinds of squatters come in here," Urameshi says, patting Eikichi's head twice more before retracting. "They bring new décor along sometimes, so I let 'em have some peace before reclaiming my privacy. They usually run out without grabbing their shit."

"Can't blame them…" Kuwabara mutters. He's finding it weirdly hard to frown.

Urameshi flicks the upturned tip of Kuwabara's nose – hand going infuriatingly incorporeal before it can be smacked away. "You're still here, aren't you?" Urameshi taunts, flicking again –

And as much as Kuwabara hates to admit it, Urameshi has a point, there.

"Yeah, well," this time, Kuwabara dodges the fingers trying to attack his nose, leaning aside and nearly whacking his head off of the cracked windowsill, "I can see you, so I can tell that you ain't much of a real threat."

"You want me to try levitating you instead of your cat?" Urameshi threatens, reaching out with his whole hand, now, going for that same cheek he sank his teeth into –

Kuwabara stands up. Can't take this shit anymore, all of a sudden.

His heart is pounding, stomach fluttering, and none of it is from fear. Not even close.

Urameshi blinks upward from his spot on the ground for a moment, before he recovers and reclines back on both hands. Grinning all cheeky-irritating up at Kuwabara, whose feathers are sufficiently ruffled.

"The rain stopped," Kuwabara says. Because he's just noticed the absence of that pleasant pattering overhead. Petrichor clings to the air, and there's one last distant rumble of thunder. A leftover noise from some unseen lightning bolt or other. "So I'm getting out of here before you throw a whole mirror at me again."

"Oh, come on, you know that was fun…"

"It wasn't!"

…

A heavy beat of silence. During which Kuwabara very much does not move. Eikichi climbs toward his shoulder, and Urameshi sits on the ground. Legs akimbo on either side of Kuwabara's ankles. Face upturned and grinning and –

Handsome.

All alone for decades, haunting this big old house after dying to save a child.

…Dammit.

"Maybe," Kuwabara mutters, staring at some glass shards embedded into the wall to his right, "if you promise not to throw shit at me, I'll come back sometime."

Urameshi's grin falters, and he crosses his arms stern over his chest. He floats upward, straightening his legs until he's hovering at eye-level with Kuwabara, looking none-too-pleased. "Who the hell asked you to come back?"

Ah, now Kuwabara can smile. Give a leer of his own as he stares right into those brown eyes. "Who the hell's gonna stop me?"

Pitching forward, Urameshi rams his forehead into Kuwabara's. That's definitely going to leave a bruise – Kuwabara can feel the rough contact shaking the whole way down his spine, and he has to tense every back and neck muscle to keep from flopping backwards into the wall. He's concussed now. Got to be.

Still he holds his ground. He's not about to lose this staring contest. Even if ghosts don't need to blink.

They stay that way – forehead-to-forehead – for a long time.

Way too long. It'll start raining again, at this rate – but Kuwabara digs in his heels. Pushes back against the cool of Urameshi's forehead and grinds his teeth and glares.

"…Fine," Urameshi grunts at length. He shoves out with both hands, pushing hard on Kuwabara's shoulders.

Unbalanced, Kuwabara topples backward. Throws an arm out and catches himself just in time to keep from falling out the hole in that insufficiently boarded window. Eikichi mews in protest, curling beneath his chin.

"But next time bring something more interesting than a kitten, if you don't wanna play my games."

Scoffing yet again – blushing yet again, shit – Kuwabara straightens his shirt with his Eikichi-free hand, and starts to finagle himself out the window. One leg at a time, ducking through so as not to scrape his head. "It's rude to make demands of your houseguests, Yusuke," he says from the porch, poking his face back inside.

Urameshi darts in close, teeth bared, and Kuwabara pulls back with a yelp, stumbling toward the railing. Hand on his cheek. Where that first bitemark is. Heart pounding.

Grinning wolfishly, Urameshi says, "Y'know, if you aren't careful, maybe I'll start haunting you instead of this dumb old house. Eh, Kazuma?"

At the time, all Kuwabara can do is grumble. Return that too-chipper farewell wave from Urameshi.

As he stumbles home and collapses onto his bed in a daze, Eikichi crawling around on his pillow –

Kuwabara can't help but wonder how he wound up on a first name basis with that poltergeist, and why the hell the thought of being haunted for all eternity by such a troublesome spirit doesn't bother him in the slightest.

A/N: Title is from the Whodini song of the same name. :D

Thanks for reading!