Summary: Kurama is reluctant. (giftfic)
He snuggled in closer, head lying on Hiei's lap, eyes staring sleepily at the TV, whose flickering images failed to hold his attention for longer than a few moments. Seeing wasn't really important since another sense received a rather nice input: a small, calloused hand rested on his side, just below the ribcage. Its thumb made circling motions every once in a while, a soothing caress. All in all, Kurama presented the very picture of content laziness.
Then Hiei opened his mouth.
"So, why not?"
Kurama sighed, expression and body posture shifting until he was the very picture of annoyed exasperation.
"I did explain already."
He had. About seventeen times.
"You'd get a prize and you could show off."
Well, that was partly true – though, he was slightly miffed that Hiei seemed to think he could be manipulated so easily. He huffed.
"I might but there's no guarantee."
The thumb started rubbing again. Kurama had the distinct impression it was trying to soften his resolve. That wouldn't work, of course.
"You don't even need any preparation."
The tone was soft, deep, and rumbling. He could feel the vibrations it caused in Hiei's chest, which was quite a nice sensation, actually. Involuntary, his eyes drooped. It was the lids' fault, anyway, they'd become so heavy.
"I don't," he began, preparing to make clear that he didn't fancy making a fool of himself, but then had to stop and bite back a groan as Hiei's other hand, which had until then been lying on the sofa's armrest, started scratching behind his ear.
Oh. Yes. There.
He shifted his head a bit, providing better access.
Nnn. So goood.
"Tch, you could beat these puny humans, any time."
Somehow – it was really hard to recall the exact moment he went from lying on his side to being draped, face down, across Hiei's legs –, the hands had left their positions and were now working on the knots in his back.
"I'd … need to … apply … first," he slur-mumbled, not really protesting but stating a fact. Then he grew silent because his brain had turned to mush.
…
Several weeks later, Kurama – shoulders tense and nerves on edge – was dividing his attention between what was going on in the outside world – nothing particular interesting or demanding – and what he was seeing and reliving in the privacy of his mind – which was very interesting and very demanding, since his memory was rather hazy, when it came to the evening Hiei had convinced him to participate in the quiz-show.
He glanced sideways at the audience. There wasn't much to see. The spectators had to sit in the semi-dark to forestall cheating but he knew where Hiei was, anyway. He also knew where he would be that evening and whose back he'd be rubbing.
For a few seconds his thoughts grew mushy again and anyone who cared to look – that being about 3 million people watching the show – saw a slightly dopey expression appearing on his face. A tendril of youki sent his way courtesy of Hiei jolted him out of his musings. The quizmaster was asking him a question. Kurama, lips still curved upward, answered and then leaned back in his chair to await his next turn. The end of the show couldn't come fast enough.