2/23/05: Fixed italics that wasn't showing up.

I own Fruits Basket. :holds up DVDs: See? I'm not making any money from this. Anime is a giant, never-ending, black hole into which I throw all my hard-earned cash. For lack of a better title, this is "Philos"- which is Greek and translates loosely as "brotherly love." A little something I wrote in an attempt to get my thoughts around the characters, in preparation for a longer story I'm thinking of. I tried to keep them as in character as possible, but the sap kept getting away from me. :sigh: Oh well. All comments will be greatly appreciated.

"Philos"

A board creaked under Yuki's feet as he crossed a hallway in Hatori's house, and he froze. Immediately he cursed his edgy nerves and reassured himself that not only was Akito not even in this portion of the main house, he was, according to Hatori, bedridden with illness. Holding onto the empty pitcher in his hands a little too tightly, he continued soft-footed down the hall in search of a source of water. A rustle made him jump again, and he wondered what unfathomable irony had brought him back to this house.

It had been Hatsuharu, of course. He was almost as good as Momiji at causing a scene. And then that stupid cat had gotten involved... To Kyou's credit, he hadn't done anything wrong. Haru had gone black for no apparent reason- passing Kyou in the hall he had started a fight. Yuki had arrived on the scene, Tohru in tow, just in time to prevent the new soccer coach from interjecting her very well-toned, very female, form into the middle of the mess and instead yelled at Kyou to finish it quick. He hadn't expected the end result to be Haru getting thrown out the window.

Kyou standing there dumbly, a stunned look on his face as he realized what he'd just done, had been a priceless image as far as Yuki was concerned. He hadn't had much time to enjoy it as he hopped through the broken glass and ran toward his prostrate cousin, now whiter than snow.

"Where does it hurt?" he'd asked Haru softly, catching the other boy's expression of pain.

"Leg," he'd mumbled back.

"Can you hide it?" Yuki could see a teacher heading toward them. "I'll get you out of here, and to Hatori."

Haru had nodded. His face its usual bland mask of indifference, he'd leaned heavily on Yuki as the rat had reported a twisted ankle to the teacher, who had agreed to call Hatori while Yuki and Haru hobbled toward the front of the school to wait for him.

Hatori had arrived faster than expected, and less welcome than expected; Ayame sat in the front seat next to the dragon, a concerned expression on his face. Yuki managed to control his first impulse to drop Haru and run. Haru must have felt Yuki's reaction; he laughed softly and whispered, "Gomen." Yuki sighed. Any further response was drowned in Ayame's stentorian greeting.

Yuki paused, frowning slightly. Which way was the kitchen? It wouldn't do to be wandering around the house lost- there was more than one person lurking in the vicinity that he didn't want to talk to. Had it really been so long since he had lived here that he had forgotten how to move silently in these halls?

Once in the car, Haru's cool mask had crumbled. He had clung to Yuki's hand with a crushing force, and a moan had escaped his tightly clenched lips. Hatori had never blinked- just drove. Yuki had thanked all the gods that his brother remained silent for the greater part of the journey; he blocked Ayame from his mind, focusing on Haru.

A double fracture in his leg, plus bruises and cuts, had proven to be the extent of Haru's injuries. Yuki sat next to his cousin's bed, watching him sleep for what seemed to be a long while. Truthfully, he was scared to leave the room even though Hatori had mentioned casually that Akito was confined to his room, doctor's orders. Haru's waking and need for a glass of water were what sent him from the room- he had already drunk the half- filled pitcher sitting next to the bed.

Finally finding the kitchen, Yuki placed the pitcher under the faucet- his eyes watched as it filled slowly with water, but his mind was far away. He wondered if Akito was really sick, or if Hatori had fabricated an illness in an attempt to give Yuki peace of mind. A corner of his mind noticed the pitcher was three quarters full and he turned the water off. He slipped out of the kitchen, and he was making his way back to Haru's room when the soft murmur of voices stopped him.

"Should I even expect him to forgive me?"

It was Ayame. Hatori's response was indistinct, but turning his head slightly Yuki could see the two of them sitting out on the porch. He froze where he was, his eyes fixed on his brother, every nerve in his body concentrating on not allowing the pitcher to fall from his nerveless hands and shatter.

"I don't even know how to act around him. He's so different from me Tori- san. He thinks I'm annoying, if he doesn't hate me outright. At least he talks to me. I think I'd die if he ignored me."

"You are one of the hardest people in the world to ignore." Hatori's voice was flat, and full of dry humor, but he touched Ayame's arm softly.

"I hate myself for what I was to him back then." Ayame's voice was subdued. "I wish I could take it back somehow. Start over from the beginning." He raised his head to look up at the sky, the setting sun painting it all the shades of the spectrum. He was twisted slightly, a quarter turned toward Hatori, and Yuki could see his face in the departing light. "Make him forget somehow, and remember me only as I am now." Ayame trailed off, his voice wistful. "Even though we're so different, without that between us maybe we could be... closer."

"I know what you mean." Hatori spoke softly, but clearly. Ayame suddenly looked at him sharply, as if just realizing to whom he was speaking.

"Tori-san," his voice was threatening, "if you touch him, I swear..." Ayame locked eyes with the one person Yuki knew he'd admired his whole life, jumping up aggressively from his formerly relaxed position. His voice was dark, promising all manner of bad things, but yet pleading- desirous of not needing to carry through with that promise. "Hatori," he started again. "Don't you dare..."

Hatori turned, meeting Ayame's gaze full on. His expression softened. "Peace, Aya. You're not the only one who has regrets when it comes to Yuki."

Yuki flinched. They had not spoken a name until now; though he had known they were speaking of him, it was different to hear it confirmed. His eyes, glowing slightly in the semidarkness, were fixed on the pair outside. Ayame had relaxed slightly; he still stood, watching the last sliver of the sun vanish below the horizon. Hatori sat on the edge of the porch, cigarette dying unnoticed in his hand.

"Maa, maa," a voice intruded, breaking the moment. "What's with this heavy atmosphere? Did I miss something? Did someone die?"

Shigure was here- probably to see what had happened to him. Yuki glanced down at the forgotten pitcher in his hand. He should take it to Haru then go home. He slipped from the room into the hallway. Turning the corner on his way to Haru's room, his eyes on the floor watching where he was going, he froze.

There was someone standing in the hall. It really could only be one person, but his eyes were drawn inescapably upwards to the pale, sickly face to verify what his heart knew to be true.

His smile was soft but cold, like a caricature of death; it made Yuki's blood run with ice.

"Hello Yuki."

Akito.

-o-

"Ah, Gure-san!" Ayame grinned wildly at his old friend. "What brings you here, this fine evening? Besides coming to see my wonderful self, of course."

"Alas, I did not know you were going to be here or I would have come sooner Aya!" Shigure placed a hand to his brow as he flopped down beside Hatori theatrically. "It has been far too long since I have seen you, my friends!"

"Not long enough." Hatori muttered without rancor, as he pushed Shigure away.

"Why Ha-san!" Shigure sat up. "Are you not pleased to see me? I am crushed!"

"Do not worry Gure-san I am here for you!" Ayame threw an arm around Shigure's shoulders.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Aya," he sniffled.

Hatori rolled his eyes. "You're both hopeless."

Shigure grinned evilly. "Oh really?" Without warning he tackled Hatori, pushing the dragon back until he was lying on the porch. "How so?"

"Shigure," Hatori growled, struggling against him half-heartedly. "Get off me."

"Now Tori-san," Ayame crawled over and helped Shigure hold him down. "You must tell us why we're hopeless."

"Yes you really must." Shigure moved over to make room for Ayame. He held Hatori's arm out flat and knelt on top of his leg just below the knee and at the hip, leaving him practically immobile. Rather than duplicate Shigure's strategy, Ayame clasped Hatori's hand to his chest and flopped his whole body down against him.

Snuggling his head against the dragon's shoulder, Ayame blinked up at him flirtatiously. "Please Tori-san?" he entreated. "Tell us."

Hatori rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to answer when a loud crash echoed out from inside the house, made even louder by the silence pervading the rest of the grounds.

The trio looked up, all playfulness gone from their expressions.

"I came here looking for Yuki," Shigure slid off Hatori. "He hasn't come home yet."

"I left him with Haru awhile ago," Hatori got to his feet.

"Where's Akito?" Ayame was at the door, already entering the house.

"Sick," Hatori answered. "I told him to stay in bed, but he might not have listened."

"Especially if he heard Yuki was here," Shigure's voice was grim.

Ayame had thrown open the door that lead into the hall and kept running. Rounding the corner he almost ran right into Yuki, who was standing frozen in the middle of the hall. Putting out a hand to stop himself, he grasped Yuki by the shoulder and felt his brother trembling. The floor glittered with water and shards of glass. Glancing up, he saw Akito's dark smile twist into a frown when he saw him, only to get worse when he saw who followed the snake.

"What was that noise?" questioned Shigure's innocent voice as he deftly worked a path through the mess to stand beside Akito. "Ah, someone dropped a pitcher of water. How careless. Akito-san, you really shouldn't be standing here. There's broken glass everywhere; we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on some." Akito allowed himself to be guided back to his rooms.

Hatori glanced at Yuki, who managed to stutter softly, "H- Haru..." The doctor nodded, and disappeared into the invalid's room.

"Haru needed some water," Yuki managed to whisper, still shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to keep from breaking apart. Ayame turned sorrowful eyes on his brother. Taking a chance, he reached out and gently pulled Yuki into an embrace. To his surprise Yuki didn't fight him, rather seeming to welcome the contact.

They stood there for awhile, Ayame with his arms wrapped tightly around Yuki- holding him close, holding him together, keeping him safe from harm. Things these arms had never tried to do before, but things they offered now if the receiver was so desirous of taking.

Finally, Yuki took a deep breath and, taking that as his sign, Ayame released him. He peered at his little brother, in the dark hall, trying to see if he was alright. Yuki looked up at him, the light from Haru's room falling across his face and illuminating his eyes. Thank you, they said quietly. Ayame quirked a smile.

"Ah, Yuki! How careless of you, dropping that pitcher with such a loud crash! When Haru-kun is trying to sleep after his arduous day, too. You're all wet! And look! You've cut your foot on a piece." Tsk-ing reprovingly, Ayame suddenly swept Yuki off his feet and back down the hall to the porch. Gasping in surprise, at first Yuki clung to him, but as soon as Ayame set him down he pushed away from his brother. Shoving aside a sigh of dejection at the action, Ayame turned to go into the house and find something to bandage Yuki's foot. He stopped when he felt a sudden pressure on his arm. He turned, looking at where Yuki had grabbed him, raising his head slowly to meet his brother's eyes.

"You cut yourself, too," Yuki said softly, and Ayame glanced down to see the red stains spreading across his stockinged feet.

"Hn, it would appear I have," he said with detached interest. "No matter! I still must take it upon myself to bring Yuki relief from his pain! I will go and find." He stopped speaking as he felt the grip on his arm twist, his legs fly out from under him, and his rear end connected rather firmly with the floor.

Ayame glanced up at Yuki, who rolled his eyes then proceeded to sit himself down with more grace. "You're not going anywhere. Sit there until Hatori can look at your feet."

Ayame stared at Yuki, wide-eyed. "Hai," he murmured.

Yuki turned toward the darkness of the night, as if to hide the blush spreading across his face. They sat in silence for a moment before Ayame reached out and gently touched Yuki's foot. Yuki jumped, startled, but relaxed slightly and looked over at Ayame, his gaze guarded and questioning. Ayame took his brother's foot in his hands, slowly sliding the sock from it. Yuki sat still as Ayame turned his foot, examining it in the light from the room behind them. The light caught the shard of glass imbedded there and, as gently as he could, Ayame removed it, applying pressure to keep the wound from bleeding more. Pulling out the handkerchief in his pocket, he tied it around the cut and hooked Yuki's leg over his shoulder. "You need to keep it elevated," he explained and he couldn't keep his eyebrows from waggling suggestively.

Yuki rolled his eyes and smirked in the semidarkness. Ayame couldn't believe he hadn't been slammed through the floor for that comment. He attributed it to the fact that no one else was there; Yuki tended to be more receptive when they were alone. He was lost in thought, so he didn't notice when Yuki leaned forward a little and took Ayame's left foot in his hand.

Ayame looked up, surprised, and leaned back slightly to balance himself on his hands as Yuki pulled his foot toward him. He tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt, where it was still wet from the water he had dropped, and gently loosened the bloodied sock from where it was dried to the wound before pulling it off. Ayame winced slightly as Yuki drew a long, wicked shard of glass from the bottom of his foot. Tying the cloth around the cut, Yuki tore another strip from his shirt and tried to reach Ayame's other foot. This proved to be rather difficult, since he had to reach under his own raised leg. The snake couldn't keep from giggling at the picture he was sure they made. As if on cue, a shadow fell over them.

-o-

Yuki looked up to see Hatori standing, arms folded, looking down on the brothers with a quizzical look in his eye. Yuki glanced over at Ayame, but his nii-san was watching him, waiting for him to explain what they were doing. Looking in those eyes really was like a mirror, he thought, and looking deep in them he thought he saw apprehension. Yuki frowned slightly, thinking. Ayame was letting him answer Hatori- he didn't want to trap Yuki in anything he said. That in itself was. amazing. But he was also afraid that with what Yuki said he would dismiss everything that had happened between them tonight.

Ayame looked away suddenly, turning his face to stare at the floor, and Yuki realized he had been frowning at the snake. Yuki turned to look up at Hatori.

"Gomen, Hatori-san. I'm sorry about the pitcher. Could you look at nii- san's feet? He cut himself carrying me out of the hall."

Ayame snapped his head up to look at Yuki again. His eyes showed his surprise. "Yuki cut himself too," he whispered; his voice so soft as to be almost unrecognizable. He swallowed hard, as if fighting something, but whatever it was seemed to win the battle. He turned huge, maudlin eyes on Hatori. "Oh, Tori-san!" he wailed, "I cut my foot and I can't walk! You will have to carry me inside to our bed!" He launched himself at the dragon and threw his arms around his neck.

Hatori heaved a long-suffering sigh. "You are supremely irritating."

Yuki shook his head at Ayame's antics. Glancing up, he saw Ayame peering at him from over his arm still wrapped around the doctor's neck. His gaze seemed questioning, but Yuki couldn't figure out what it was asking. Unexpectedly, a piece of the conversation he had heard earlier popped into his head.

"He thinks I'm annoying, if he doesn't hate me outright."

Ayame was asking him if he agreed with Hatori's statement. Well, yes he did. But... He glanced down at the floor, wondering if he could say what he was thinking. He thought of Tohru, and how she always said what was on her mind- and how it usually made things better.

"Hai." He said softly. He could feel their eyes on him. "Yes, he is very irritating." He looked up and met Ayame's suddenly saddened eyes. He smiled, letting the grin spread slowly across a face unfamiliar with such open expressions. "But that's why we love him, ne?"

Ayame grinned, turning to hide his smile against Hatori's chest. The dragon snorted softly, but didn't fight the pull at the corners of his own mouth. Hefting the snake in his arms he carried him inside. "I'll be right back," he said to Yuki.

"Hai," Yuki responded. He turned to look up at the stars, the smile lingering on his face and in his heart.

-o-

"Tori-san!" Ayame's voice was ecstatic. "Did you see? Did you hear! Yuki has finally accepted our bond of brotherly love! Oh Tori-san, I'm so happy! And it was all because of my diligent work, too. If I hadn't tried so hard, it never would have happened! My persistence won through to him! I."

"Shut up, idiot," Hatori interrupted affectionately. He dropped Ayame unceremoniously on the couch then turned to go back for Yuki.

"Tori-san," Ayame murmured. The dragon paused. "Thank you." Hatori nodded; and before continuing, he turned to Ayame.

Leaning down he brought their faces closer. "I'm very proud of you, Ayame." The snake could only watch, stunned, as Hatori went back out to bring Yuki in.

Tori-san was... proud of him? And Yuki didn't hate him. Warmth filled him. It had been a good night. It required a celebration! He jumped up to go in search of. He sat down again, rather suddenly, and pulled his hurting feet up next him. Well, it hadn't all been good. But it was definite, in his not so humble opinion, that the good far outweighed the bad.

-O-