All right, I must confess...I can't write for beans! Therefore, like those
who write songfics, I turned to an outside source for inspiration. That
source is the book Magic's Pawn, by Mercedes Lackey. I don't own the
excerpt of the book that I used, so don't sue me. Not that you could
without knowing my real name...my big brother, Zeke tells me that you need a
name to sue anyone.
Note: myriad appreciations go out to Eileen, who beta-ed this for me! Thanks, dote!
Also, note...I was additionally inspired by midnyte-fox's bio...heh-heh...it's fun. For other good KxH fics, try oOKeairaOo, or Blood-Raevynn, they're both good. A rather goofy KxH is Kurama 1/2: Karasu's Girl, by Gabbi: Queen of Kurama Torture. Zeke recommends Killing Perfection, as well as Kiki Jones...slightly darker, but still well writ.
Without much further ado about noting, I present my story, suck that it may.
S. Lorraine Hanna Wolf ~~
Kurama knew that Hiei was sitting in the tree by his window, watching. Hiei often sat in that tree to think, not really having anywhere else to go. Kurama had never commented on it, and he was certain that Hiei didn't know that he knew about these visits. Half the time, Kurama felt that Hiei was just a self-centered, arrogant bastard (that last one wasn't an insult...Hiei was a koorime bastard, being half fire-demon).
The other half of the time, Kurama knew that the Forbidden Child was hurting greatly inside. He had no one to lean on, which meant that the only person he felt he could depend on was himself. He was still very young, but he'd already seen blood and pain. He only used posturing and posing to hide his emotions from everyone who might exploit them.
Kurama glanced covertly at Hiei. The half-koorime was asleep. He sat frozen as a statue. Kurama's stomach lurched as he looked at the young one. Hiei looked like death. No, worse, Botan always looked quite well.
It was bad enough that the boy was light-complected; bad enough that he wore stark black, which accented his fair skin. However, his face had no color; it was so white, it was almost transparent. His eyes looked sunken, and his expression was of one who had seen, but been denied, the heavens.
"Hiei," Kurama muttered. The half-koorime didn't stir at all from his dream, not hearing...
First, there had been the snow-field, and then as he walked across it, the teeth of ice had begun poking their way up through the granular snow. They'd grown higher as he walked, but what he hadn't known was that they were growing behind him, too. Now he was trapped within a ring of them. Trapped within walls of ice, smoother than the smoothest glass, colder than the coldest winter. He couldn't break out; he pounded until his arms were leaden, to no effect. Everywhere he looked—ice, snow, nothing alive, nothing but pale blue and white and silver. Even the sky was white. And he was so alone—so terribly alone.
Nothing soft, nothing comforting. Nothing welcoming. Only the ice, only the unyielding, unmoving ice and the white, grainy snow.
He was cold. So appallingly cold—so frozen that he ached all over.
He had to get out.
Hoping to climb over the barrier, he reached for the top of one of the ice walls, and pulled back his hands as pain stabbed through them. He stared at them stupidly. His palms were slashed nearly to the bone, and blood oozed sluggishly from the cuts to pool at his feet.
There was blood on the snow; red blood—but as he stared at it in numb fascination, it turned blue.
Then his hands began to burn with the cold, yet fiery pain of the wounds. He gasped, and tears blurred his vision. He wanted to scream, but could only moan. Gods, it hurt, he's give anything to make it stop!
Suddenly, the pain did stop; his hands went numb. His eyes cleared, and he looked down at his injured hands again—and saw, to his horror, that his hands were turning to ice. Even as he gazed at them, the ice crept farther up; over his wrists, crawling up his forearms—and he cried out—
"Hiei!"
He struggled out of the canyon of ice, out of the depth of sleep; shaken from the nightmare by hot, almost scorching hands on his shoulders and a commanding voice in his ears.
He blinked, feeling things and not connecting them. He still felt so cold, too cold even to shiver, which was why Kurama's hands on his arms felt so warm.
"Hiei—"Kurama whispered, his green eyes ablaze with concern. "Hiei, you're like ice!" He stood, grabbed a fluffy, pastel green bathrobe, and wrapped it, as well as his muscular arms around the now-shivering demon.
Hiei resisted; tried to push Kurama away, but he was trembling and feeble, and failed miserably.
"Go away," he said, waiting for Kurama to laugh at him for being so weak. As he felt Kurama draw breath, he readied himself for the emotional pain.
"Why? I only want to help you." Hiei was struck dumb by the fact that someone actually cared. Kurama took advantage of this momentary distraction to hold the pitiful, quivering boy a bit closer. "I won't hurt you, Hiei. I couldn't hurt you."
Hiei was so awed by the enormity of that statement that he tensed against the other boy's grasp.
"Hiei, I'm only trying to warm you a bit," Kurama said, a bit of impatience lacing the statement. "So, relax, already!"
Hiei did relax. He fell into the folds of the bathrobe and the arms of his comforter. Gods, I want this, he thought, not sure about what, exactly it was that he wanted. He felt something small and round hit his knee. Kurama saw it, too.
"It's fine, Hiei—cry it all out," he assured the frightened demon. The small bead was actually a hiruiseki, a tear gem cried by koorimes. Hiei looked up at the taller boy, and sagged against his shoulder, surrendering all dignity and pride, weeping until he could no longer think or feel. Kurama kept talking, but Hiei didn't hear words; only a calming, comforting tone.
He cried until his nose felt like it was the size of an apple, and slumped exhaustedly into Kurama's arms. Kurama gently reached out to his nightstand for a handkerchief, which he gave Hiei.
"Nightmare?" Kurama asked, with no amusement in his voice. Hiei nodded feebly. "Want to tell me about it?" Kurama offered. Hiei whipped his head around to look at Kurama. The older demon was hard to read, but he held a deep understanding in his eyes. He seemed so sincere, but—
"You'll laugh at me."
"Hiei? No; no, I won't laugh. And unless you say otherwise, nothing that happens here will leave this room." Kurama smiled at Hiei, who was still bundled in the fluffy, green bathrobe and his arms. He had turned, as to see the other boy. Hiei quickly glanced down, and then spoke, slowly and so quietly, Kurama could barely hear.
"It's—it's ice. It surrounds me—captures me. Then I cut myself, and I turn into ice. And—the worst bit isn't the cold, or the pain, or anything like that—it's being alone, knowing that I'm going to die—so alone," he stammered. Then he looked at Kurama, waiting to see him laugh, or at the very least, dismiss it as "silly." However, in the other demon's face, he saw nothing of the kind.
"I know what you mean," Kurama said quietly. "There are times when being alone is a pain worse than dying, when it's easier to die than to be alone. Aren't there?"
Hiei blinked, caught without words. Kurama continued, more to himself than to Hiei.
"It's better to have had someone and have lost them, than to have never had anyone." Then, Kurama's eyes focused on Hiei, and he blushed a little, and Hiei's demonic heart spasmed at the look of longing there. A look that Hiei had never expected to observe directed toward him.
Kurama blinked, and the moment was lost. Kurama shrugged, not knowing what to say next to the short demon.
"Kurama. Oh, Kurama. I'm so sorry," Hiei sighed, ashamed of his momentary weakness.
"It's fine, Hiei. You're fine." The reassurance was automatic and ultimately forgiving.
"No, I'm not fine," Hiei said, fear lacing his deep voice. "The ice—it's still there. The moment I leave, it'll be back. I—I can't handle that. Could—could I—"He didn't finish the question, but Kurama's eyes widened, knowing what he was implying.
"Hiei? Do you know what you're asking?"
"Yes, I do. Gods, Kurama, you're the only person—demon—anything! to care about me at all. No one else really cares. Kurama, I need you."
Kurama looked long and hard at the young demon. Hiei gazed back, knowing exactly what those scrutinized by the Jagan felt, for a moment. Kurama seemed to be boring into his soul, looking straight into his heart. Finally, he smiled, and nodded.
"Oh, Hiei. Come here." He shifted under the blankets to make room for the other boy, and turned out the lights.
A moment later, Kurama giggled. "Quit stealing the blankets, you little thief!" Then, after a bit of rustling, there was silence. Not that the two of them needed words.
~~
Hiei awoke when he felt the weight of a pair of eyes on the back of his neck. Instantly, he became aware, and he rolled his head to look at the doorway. There, in the threshold, Shiori stood, a calm, questioning look in her eyes. She saw Hiei looking at her, and raised one eyebrow at him. Hiei responded non-verbally, by glancing at the still-sleeping Kurama. Shiori nodded, obviously understanding what Hiei meant. As she walked away, Kurama began to stir.
"Mornin', Hiei," he yawned as he sat up. Hiei smiled.
"Morning to you. Um—Shiori kinda saw me, just now, so—" He wasn't sure how Kurama felt about his mother knowing about their new relationship.
"Oh, great. Just what I need—Mother asking questions," Kurama groaned. He always hated keeping secrets from his mother.
"Well, I don't think she minds—she didn't say anything, so," Hiei shrugged. "Maybe she'll understand." He gently slid out of the bed and dressed in his black cloak and pants. Kurama followed suit, wearing his purple school uniform, even though it was a Sunday, and there was no school.
"Maybe. Maybe we should have a talk with her. Come on," Kurama said, motioning to Hiei. "Leave your sword here."
The two of them sauntered down the stairs, only to be accosted by Shiori in the kitchen.
"Boys, I think we need to have a—a talk. But first, breakfast. How would you like your eggs?" She had a frying pan in her hand, and to Hiei, it seemed like, had she wanted, she could injure someone greatly with it.
"Scrambled, please. Hiei?"
"Um—scrambled also, please." Hiei looked at Kurama, who seemed very calm about the whole situation. Shiori cooked the aforementioned eggs, and brought them to the table, along with silverware. Kurama poured orange juice for everyone. They ate in an awkward silence, but Hiei didn't mind. He was nervous about telling the human woman anything.
"So," Shiori said, once all three of them were done with their eggs and juice. "Suuichi, who is this?" She gestured to Hiei.
"Mother, this is Hiei. He's—um—well, he's—he's," Kurama couldn't find a tactful way to put it. So, Hiei put it bluntly.
"As of last night, I'm his lover." Shiori nodded, the little surprise in her eyes being toward the frank way Hiei put that fact.
"I see. Look, I don't mind it at all, but, if you ever hurt my son, in any way, I will hurt you. Got it?" She looked calmly at the two boys, and Hiei knew where Kurama's human form got its calm demeanor.
"I understand. Thank you, for being so—tolerant." Hiei meant that statement with all his being. When he had first seen Shiori in the doorway, he had been afraid that she would try to force them apart.
"Hey, it's nothing. I knew that Suuichi was different, and I was half- expecting this any day. So, you want to give me details?" Kurama and Hiei exchanged a glance.
"Well, Mother, I met Hiei while you were in the hospital. We became friends; he shares my interest in demons and mythology. Last night, he came over, needing a friendly ear." Kurama looked at Hiei, giving him a chance to interject.
"He gave me that, and more. I've kinda had a rough life. My mother abandoned me when I was young—I've had to fend for myself. Your son was the first person to care about me, at all." Hiei saw Kurama nodding, and he knew that he had worded it correctly.
"Well, you're welcome here. I'm perfectly fine with it, as long as Suuichi stays up on his homework. I've learned that when kids think they're old enough; they're generally right." She smiled at Hiei and her son, no fear in her eyes. Then, she picked up the breakfast dishes, and walked them over to the sink, whistling the whole time she washed.
~~
So, what do you think? R+R! Let me know of anything that needs tweaking, 'kay?
Well, I'm going to start rambling about the egg scene. My family is weird, and usually has eggs as a dinner entrée, not breakfast. My dad's from Texas, and likes spices, so he cooks them with hot sauce and chili flakes. Zeke and I can't eat them so hot, so we drench them in maple syrup. It's kinda odd, but that's us...XD
Actually, did you know that "Scrambled Eggs" was the working title for "Yesterday" by the Beatles? Yep! I am a geek!
You know, this is my longest fic already, and it's only one chappy. I probably will continue, if for no other reason, because I have too many dead fics lying around, being all dead and junk.
Seeky L. H. W.
Note: myriad appreciations go out to Eileen, who beta-ed this for me! Thanks, dote!
Also, note...I was additionally inspired by midnyte-fox's bio...heh-heh...it's fun. For other good KxH fics, try oOKeairaOo, or Blood-Raevynn, they're both good. A rather goofy KxH is Kurama 1/2: Karasu's Girl, by Gabbi: Queen of Kurama Torture. Zeke recommends Killing Perfection, as well as Kiki Jones...slightly darker, but still well writ.
Without much further ado about noting, I present my story, suck that it may.
S. Lorraine Hanna Wolf ~~
Kurama knew that Hiei was sitting in the tree by his window, watching. Hiei often sat in that tree to think, not really having anywhere else to go. Kurama had never commented on it, and he was certain that Hiei didn't know that he knew about these visits. Half the time, Kurama felt that Hiei was just a self-centered, arrogant bastard (that last one wasn't an insult...Hiei was a koorime bastard, being half fire-demon).
The other half of the time, Kurama knew that the Forbidden Child was hurting greatly inside. He had no one to lean on, which meant that the only person he felt he could depend on was himself. He was still very young, but he'd already seen blood and pain. He only used posturing and posing to hide his emotions from everyone who might exploit them.
Kurama glanced covertly at Hiei. The half-koorime was asleep. He sat frozen as a statue. Kurama's stomach lurched as he looked at the young one. Hiei looked like death. No, worse, Botan always looked quite well.
It was bad enough that the boy was light-complected; bad enough that he wore stark black, which accented his fair skin. However, his face had no color; it was so white, it was almost transparent. His eyes looked sunken, and his expression was of one who had seen, but been denied, the heavens.
"Hiei," Kurama muttered. The half-koorime didn't stir at all from his dream, not hearing...
First, there had been the snow-field, and then as he walked across it, the teeth of ice had begun poking their way up through the granular snow. They'd grown higher as he walked, but what he hadn't known was that they were growing behind him, too. Now he was trapped within a ring of them. Trapped within walls of ice, smoother than the smoothest glass, colder than the coldest winter. He couldn't break out; he pounded until his arms were leaden, to no effect. Everywhere he looked—ice, snow, nothing alive, nothing but pale blue and white and silver. Even the sky was white. And he was so alone—so terribly alone.
Nothing soft, nothing comforting. Nothing welcoming. Only the ice, only the unyielding, unmoving ice and the white, grainy snow.
He was cold. So appallingly cold—so frozen that he ached all over.
He had to get out.
Hoping to climb over the barrier, he reached for the top of one of the ice walls, and pulled back his hands as pain stabbed through them. He stared at them stupidly. His palms were slashed nearly to the bone, and blood oozed sluggishly from the cuts to pool at his feet.
There was blood on the snow; red blood—but as he stared at it in numb fascination, it turned blue.
Then his hands began to burn with the cold, yet fiery pain of the wounds. He gasped, and tears blurred his vision. He wanted to scream, but could only moan. Gods, it hurt, he's give anything to make it stop!
Suddenly, the pain did stop; his hands went numb. His eyes cleared, and he looked down at his injured hands again—and saw, to his horror, that his hands were turning to ice. Even as he gazed at them, the ice crept farther up; over his wrists, crawling up his forearms—and he cried out—
"Hiei!"
He struggled out of the canyon of ice, out of the depth of sleep; shaken from the nightmare by hot, almost scorching hands on his shoulders and a commanding voice in his ears.
He blinked, feeling things and not connecting them. He still felt so cold, too cold even to shiver, which was why Kurama's hands on his arms felt so warm.
"Hiei—"Kurama whispered, his green eyes ablaze with concern. "Hiei, you're like ice!" He stood, grabbed a fluffy, pastel green bathrobe, and wrapped it, as well as his muscular arms around the now-shivering demon.
Hiei resisted; tried to push Kurama away, but he was trembling and feeble, and failed miserably.
"Go away," he said, waiting for Kurama to laugh at him for being so weak. As he felt Kurama draw breath, he readied himself for the emotional pain.
"Why? I only want to help you." Hiei was struck dumb by the fact that someone actually cared. Kurama took advantage of this momentary distraction to hold the pitiful, quivering boy a bit closer. "I won't hurt you, Hiei. I couldn't hurt you."
Hiei was so awed by the enormity of that statement that he tensed against the other boy's grasp.
"Hiei, I'm only trying to warm you a bit," Kurama said, a bit of impatience lacing the statement. "So, relax, already!"
Hiei did relax. He fell into the folds of the bathrobe and the arms of his comforter. Gods, I want this, he thought, not sure about what, exactly it was that he wanted. He felt something small and round hit his knee. Kurama saw it, too.
"It's fine, Hiei—cry it all out," he assured the frightened demon. The small bead was actually a hiruiseki, a tear gem cried by koorimes. Hiei looked up at the taller boy, and sagged against his shoulder, surrendering all dignity and pride, weeping until he could no longer think or feel. Kurama kept talking, but Hiei didn't hear words; only a calming, comforting tone.
He cried until his nose felt like it was the size of an apple, and slumped exhaustedly into Kurama's arms. Kurama gently reached out to his nightstand for a handkerchief, which he gave Hiei.
"Nightmare?" Kurama asked, with no amusement in his voice. Hiei nodded feebly. "Want to tell me about it?" Kurama offered. Hiei whipped his head around to look at Kurama. The older demon was hard to read, but he held a deep understanding in his eyes. He seemed so sincere, but—
"You'll laugh at me."
"Hiei? No; no, I won't laugh. And unless you say otherwise, nothing that happens here will leave this room." Kurama smiled at Hiei, who was still bundled in the fluffy, green bathrobe and his arms. He had turned, as to see the other boy. Hiei quickly glanced down, and then spoke, slowly and so quietly, Kurama could barely hear.
"It's—it's ice. It surrounds me—captures me. Then I cut myself, and I turn into ice. And—the worst bit isn't the cold, or the pain, or anything like that—it's being alone, knowing that I'm going to die—so alone," he stammered. Then he looked at Kurama, waiting to see him laugh, or at the very least, dismiss it as "silly." However, in the other demon's face, he saw nothing of the kind.
"I know what you mean," Kurama said quietly. "There are times when being alone is a pain worse than dying, when it's easier to die than to be alone. Aren't there?"
Hiei blinked, caught without words. Kurama continued, more to himself than to Hiei.
"It's better to have had someone and have lost them, than to have never had anyone." Then, Kurama's eyes focused on Hiei, and he blushed a little, and Hiei's demonic heart spasmed at the look of longing there. A look that Hiei had never expected to observe directed toward him.
Kurama blinked, and the moment was lost. Kurama shrugged, not knowing what to say next to the short demon.
"Kurama. Oh, Kurama. I'm so sorry," Hiei sighed, ashamed of his momentary weakness.
"It's fine, Hiei. You're fine." The reassurance was automatic and ultimately forgiving.
"No, I'm not fine," Hiei said, fear lacing his deep voice. "The ice—it's still there. The moment I leave, it'll be back. I—I can't handle that. Could—could I—"He didn't finish the question, but Kurama's eyes widened, knowing what he was implying.
"Hiei? Do you know what you're asking?"
"Yes, I do. Gods, Kurama, you're the only person—demon—anything! to care about me at all. No one else really cares. Kurama, I need you."
Kurama looked long and hard at the young demon. Hiei gazed back, knowing exactly what those scrutinized by the Jagan felt, for a moment. Kurama seemed to be boring into his soul, looking straight into his heart. Finally, he smiled, and nodded.
"Oh, Hiei. Come here." He shifted under the blankets to make room for the other boy, and turned out the lights.
A moment later, Kurama giggled. "Quit stealing the blankets, you little thief!" Then, after a bit of rustling, there was silence. Not that the two of them needed words.
~~
Hiei awoke when he felt the weight of a pair of eyes on the back of his neck. Instantly, he became aware, and he rolled his head to look at the doorway. There, in the threshold, Shiori stood, a calm, questioning look in her eyes. She saw Hiei looking at her, and raised one eyebrow at him. Hiei responded non-verbally, by glancing at the still-sleeping Kurama. Shiori nodded, obviously understanding what Hiei meant. As she walked away, Kurama began to stir.
"Mornin', Hiei," he yawned as he sat up. Hiei smiled.
"Morning to you. Um—Shiori kinda saw me, just now, so—" He wasn't sure how Kurama felt about his mother knowing about their new relationship.
"Oh, great. Just what I need—Mother asking questions," Kurama groaned. He always hated keeping secrets from his mother.
"Well, I don't think she minds—she didn't say anything, so," Hiei shrugged. "Maybe she'll understand." He gently slid out of the bed and dressed in his black cloak and pants. Kurama followed suit, wearing his purple school uniform, even though it was a Sunday, and there was no school.
"Maybe. Maybe we should have a talk with her. Come on," Kurama said, motioning to Hiei. "Leave your sword here."
The two of them sauntered down the stairs, only to be accosted by Shiori in the kitchen.
"Boys, I think we need to have a—a talk. But first, breakfast. How would you like your eggs?" She had a frying pan in her hand, and to Hiei, it seemed like, had she wanted, she could injure someone greatly with it.
"Scrambled, please. Hiei?"
"Um—scrambled also, please." Hiei looked at Kurama, who seemed very calm about the whole situation. Shiori cooked the aforementioned eggs, and brought them to the table, along with silverware. Kurama poured orange juice for everyone. They ate in an awkward silence, but Hiei didn't mind. He was nervous about telling the human woman anything.
"So," Shiori said, once all three of them were done with their eggs and juice. "Suuichi, who is this?" She gestured to Hiei.
"Mother, this is Hiei. He's—um—well, he's—he's," Kurama couldn't find a tactful way to put it. So, Hiei put it bluntly.
"As of last night, I'm his lover." Shiori nodded, the little surprise in her eyes being toward the frank way Hiei put that fact.
"I see. Look, I don't mind it at all, but, if you ever hurt my son, in any way, I will hurt you. Got it?" She looked calmly at the two boys, and Hiei knew where Kurama's human form got its calm demeanor.
"I understand. Thank you, for being so—tolerant." Hiei meant that statement with all his being. When he had first seen Shiori in the doorway, he had been afraid that she would try to force them apart.
"Hey, it's nothing. I knew that Suuichi was different, and I was half- expecting this any day. So, you want to give me details?" Kurama and Hiei exchanged a glance.
"Well, Mother, I met Hiei while you were in the hospital. We became friends; he shares my interest in demons and mythology. Last night, he came over, needing a friendly ear." Kurama looked at Hiei, giving him a chance to interject.
"He gave me that, and more. I've kinda had a rough life. My mother abandoned me when I was young—I've had to fend for myself. Your son was the first person to care about me, at all." Hiei saw Kurama nodding, and he knew that he had worded it correctly.
"Well, you're welcome here. I'm perfectly fine with it, as long as Suuichi stays up on his homework. I've learned that when kids think they're old enough; they're generally right." She smiled at Hiei and her son, no fear in her eyes. Then, she picked up the breakfast dishes, and walked them over to the sink, whistling the whole time she washed.
~~
So, what do you think? R+R! Let me know of anything that needs tweaking, 'kay?
Well, I'm going to start rambling about the egg scene. My family is weird, and usually has eggs as a dinner entrée, not breakfast. My dad's from Texas, and likes spices, so he cooks them with hot sauce and chili flakes. Zeke and I can't eat them so hot, so we drench them in maple syrup. It's kinda odd, but that's us...XD
Actually, did you know that "Scrambled Eggs" was the working title for "Yesterday" by the Beatles? Yep! I am a geek!
You know, this is my longest fic already, and it's only one chappy. I probably will continue, if for no other reason, because I have too many dead fics lying around, being all dead and junk.
Seeky L. H. W.