DISCLAIMER- I only own my thoughts and ideas nothing more.

"Hiei" I hear my sister call despite the pillow covering my head.

The door was closed but that barricade was quickly over came. Without one vicious guard dog, two dead bolts and three armed police, I might as well as place a welcome mat on the floor and turn on a red-orange neon sign blinking "OPEN"

"No." Lord woman, have a heart I just got over a bad case of food poisoning.

" Come on." she pleas next to my ears. So much for my factory made imitation feather stuffed small wall of solitude.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't feel like it." I say. Hey, why don't we just sit up cross our arms, stick out our bottom lip, and pout while we're at it?

"What do you plan to do sit around the house all night? No wait, I know your planning to drag your mopping ass over to Kurama's and sit on his porch aren't you?"

"Whatever." What?No 'Ha ha, you're wrong, youbig stinky doodi-head' my stoic side mocks me once again.

"Please" she says trying to break me down with her girlish charms and sweet demeanor.

"Why do I have to go with you why can't you just go by yourself?"

"Right, like dad is going to let me out of the house alone." she responses with an eye roll and 'a what have you been smoking' look

"Hey it is not my fault you were born a girl." I crack regaining my infamous attitude

"Har har har," she laughs rather dryly. "Come on plus you can stop by Kurama's after you drop me off on the way I mean the place isn't too far from his neighborhood."

I would have told her I could care less about seeing that particular person but I wasn't in the mood for another argument. With my myself or with her.

"Fine" I grumble flipping back over in my bed. "Just wake me when you're ready to go." I mumble into my pillow.

"Oh, thank you Hiei. Thank you." She chirps kissing me on my exposed cheek.

I growl, I huff and I cut me eyes at her but I never wipe the kiss off.

I not surprisingly, doze off during the whole 'waiting for a female to get ready to go out' ritual. One-hour pasts and she is still not ready. I roll my wrinkled carcass out the bed and hot hand press the bed creases out of my clothes. Hop into the bathroom brush my teeth, floss, gargle, rub water, gel and conditioner through my miniaturized but still unruly version of my former hair style, and take a well deserved and quite needed piss. I'm done. I saunter down stairs to wait for Yu-yu.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

By the time she makes her grand entrance, either boredom or a slight case of insanity has set in because; I am sitting inverted on the dark blue Lazy Boy recliner. One leg is straight up in the air balancing a spare toss pillows while the other leg is slightly bent as I attempt to pass the pillow from one foot to the other. The task is quite difficult since the chair is rocking one.

"You are one strange puppy."

I respectfully drop the pillow to my hands and place the pillow next to my left hip. I stretch my arms forward hyper extend my legs and arch my back in feline-ish manner before pressing my palms to the carpeted floor and walking my lower body over placing myself in a more upright position. I re-fluff my hair. Shake wiggle hop hop. Curse the inventers of underwear. Hop hop. Fuck it. I reach in my pants and manually fix the problem, while my hand in the general area I decide to cure an itch before it gets out of hand

"Ready?" she nods still gapping at my whole performance. "Let's go." I grab the keys and head for the door.

'Ping.'

I flick yet another peanut at the bottle of vodka positioned across the gap and in front of all the other dark liquors.

'Ping.'

The bartender turns around once again to figure out what that noise is. I would laugh if I weren't in such a foul mood. "Stupid red headed bastard." I mumble lining up another projectile.

'Ping.'

It is a good thing I dropped my sister off first. True I had to back track a bit.

'Ping.'

Because I would probably be saying something I would be regretting later.

'Ping'.

"Look, you really need to stop doing that." A perfectly articulated cold angelic voice slices from my left.

I pause. Oh yes, I have been waiting all night for someone, anyone to say something even remotely rude. I contort my face into a scowl that would frighten the bravest of men. I turn my head to speak. My vision embraces black leather pants, thirty-six inches of exposed hip, thigh, and calf. Needless to say my cut in granite expression crumbled like a talc house. And my whole prepared speech blows away like baby powder.

"Hey, get your ass off of my bar." The bartender gruffs, "I bought stools for a reason."

"Very well." He slides of the counter and lands in the barstool next to me. The soft smack of his bottom hitting the thick wooden bar seat whispers intimately in my ear. His somewhat covered arms fold over and rest playfully on the back of the chair. His legs dangle for a moment forced open by the solid wooden doles of the chair's back support. He smoothly hooks his foot on to one of the stools legs and spins his chair so that he is facing me.

My heart stops, my breath catches and certain parts of my body twitch involuntarily as the rest of it goes on temporary hiatus. Even my somber and eternally stoic side is hopping around inside my head spewing obscene thoughts and pornographic images, as the little people in my head scurry around searching for the files on my sexuality.

"Forgive me." He says in a throaty whisper.

Hell yes, my body cheers until my brain reboots and informs the rest of me that he said, forgive me not…..Damn it, my body grumbles.

"Forgive me. I just happen to enjoy that particular bottle of vodka you were trying to chip away at." He extends his arm forward reaching out to my face. His perfectly polished fingernails tickle me chin, as his golden-flecked eyes narrow, "Besides aren't you a bit underage to even be sitting at the bar in the first place."

Usually my immediate response would be to punch him, but presently that department of thought and action process is still arguing with the audio department of my brain over the fact he actually said 'forgive' and not 'fuck.'

"Yoko." A man's voice cuts in interrupting my mockery of a thought process. "Time is money, and I do not plan to waste either one of them watching you flirt with a mere child, when I could have you doing some more productive." The man's fingers slide slowly through the thick silvery strands of hair before curling them gripping the moon kissed follicles by there roots yanking his head back domineeringly.

The ensnared one's eyes grew ominously cold as his lips slid menacingly over gritted teeth. "I seriously doubt you have enough capital wealth for the sort of game you are dangerously treading into. Jr." His face softens slightly as the grip on his hair is immediately released. He smugly flips his head shaking his hair effortlessly backs in place.

"Ah, ha ha" the brown haired man chuckles with a sigh before he place both hands on the young man's hips each hand on each corresponding hip. He wrenches the leather-clad hips back forcing their body to meet. The young businessman's thin but strong fingers grip even tighter as his upper body presses heavily into the startled one's, called 'Yoko', back. His bullish exhale fluffs the fine hairs on the captive's neck. "I have more than enough monitorial means to break your wild pompous little ass into a tamed lap pet." He whispers in a calm but harsh tone. He releases his grip on the others hips. "Now like I said earlier, time is money." He straightens out his suit regaining his professional posture and walks away.

"I guess this is good-bye," he says to me, as if nothing out of the ordinary just took place. I nod. He glances over to the barkeep whom solemnly shakes his head but pulls out frosted glass and fills it three quarters way with a clear substance. The silver-haired beauty tilted his head back pouring every drop down his throat in one smooth move. His body cringes as his eyes water for a moment. He places the empty glass back down. "Thanks, Yomi" he coughs out.

"Whatever. What's another violation." he says picking up the empty glass, "God, I hope you have a damn good reason for being back here again, kid." The man behind the bar says with a tinge of a broken heartedness.

Our eyes accidentally lock for a brief moment. "Yes, he is." he mouths the sound barely auditable.

The moment breaks as a giggle escapes his lips. He almost regains his regal posture but the strong effects of his over the counter cure-all, kicks in and he is escorted out of the establishment by a previously met but never introduce brown haired man.

"So, you're Yoko." I say to the exiting form. "Hn."

---A/N: Once again short.