A/N: Hey, guys, so here's the deal! I'm very tired and very stressed. University's closed, but my professors are pouring on the online work. My job's got crazy weird procedures to follow that make everything harder. Lots of people are struggling right now, and since I can't focus on my main stories, I'm going to do one-shots. These are going to be fluffy af, short, and prompt-based. I have a few more planned, but if anyone has a suggestion, anything they want to see and/or characters they want to interact, feel free to let me know. The world could use a little more fluff right now, and if I can brighten even one person's day, I'd like to. Hang in there, everyone.
Prompt: "Are you stuck?" "Yes. Help, please." Characters: Asaki and Kurama
My father's library used to be one of my least favorite places in the Living World mansion. Not for lack of love of reading. More because that was where tutors either gave up on me or reported to my father that they couldn't help me. I learned too much too quickly. By the time they started teaching a subject, I already knew it. The library was the only place I was allowed to be when I was young that wouldn't get me in trouble, so it was where I always stayed. It ended up just as much a prison as the rest of the house, even if my father rarely frequented it.
Nevertheless, a finer collection of books you can't find on this side of life, which is precisely why I'm here. I'm hoping to find a book on negotiating with different kinds of demons, one I know I've seen somewhere in this room before. Spirit World probably has a copy of it too, but I get a certain kind of pleasure in bringing Kurama into my father's house. Kurama doesn't care what Taro Anno thinks of him, but it definitely needles the ice demon that he's in his home.
"Any luck?" I shout, dragging my finger along the spines of the books closest to me.
"None so far," is the muffled reply. Kurama sounds like he's pretty far away, but that might just be the effect of stacks and stacks of books. This library has sound-eating acoustics. It would have been the perfect hiding place back then if not for all the dust that gathers. Usually by the fourth sneeze, someone would find me.
"I'm about ready to give up," I grumble, walking to the end of the nearest stack of books and grabbing the ladder that's resting against the shelves. I slide it down to where I'd been looking before, convinced the book should be around here.
"I can't say I would blame you," Kurama says. "Knowing the cover is brown only helps so much."
"Hey, I tried!" I whine, shaking my head. "You didn't have to come."
"I know."
He doesn't say anything more, and I sigh, climbing the ladder. Nothing, nothing, nothing. None of these books are right, dammit. I know we're in the right section. This is where my father keeps all the material on demon customs and traditions. I wish I could remember the title or the author. Even those bits of information would be immensely helpful. It's been so long….
By the time I've scaled the ladder and searched all the nearby books, I've just about given up hope when I notice a particularly battered cover just out of reach to my left. It looks old, and I can't read the title, but it's almost a little familiar. What are the odds?
I glance down at the ground, maybe thirty feet below me, thinking. I can probably get to it. No sense in climbing back down to move the ladder a few feet. Scooting over to the left side of the ladder, I reach out, grimacing as my hand falls a few inches short. Just a little more. Now I've got a foot in the air, gripping the ladder tightly with my right hand as my fingers find the spine I'm looking for. The moment I make contact, my foot slips, and the ladder is suddenly gone from beneath me, crashing to the floor, along with the book I had finally gotten a hand on.
Just barely. I manage to grab onto the three inches of shelf between the edge and the spines of books, holding myself up by what feels like sheer force of will alone. My feet hit the shelves, dangling below another shelf, so it's just my fingertips holding me up. Nice going, moron. Would it have been so hard to move the stupid ladder?
"Asaki?" Kurama's voice from below me only adds to how stupid I feel, hanging on with everything I've got. A few seconds pass, and then Kurama says, "Are you all right?"
"No," I grunt. "Help, please."
"I'm right here, Asaki. If you let go, I'll catch you."
"Catch me?!" I squeak, my shoulders quivering from exertion.
"Yes, Asaki. I promise, I'll catch you. Just let go."
I don't really have a lot of options, do I? So stupid. Taking a deep breath, I release the shelf, falling, falling, falling right into Kurama's arms. He falls back from the force of impact, but we're cushioned by a massive flower.
"Couldn't move the ladder?" he asks, a wry smile on his face as he positions me more snugly in his arms.
"I thought I could reach," I pout, not meeting his eyes as a blush creeps across my cheeks.
"Perhaps not the best of ideas."
"I never said it was."
He sighs, but it sounds more relieved than anything else. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in, pressing his lips against my neck. "I'm just glad I was here to catch you," he whispers, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I-I mean, it wouldn't have been a big deal," I mumble, my voice higher and breathier than it needs to be. "It's not that big of a fall."
"Just because you can heal your hurts does not mean you shouldn't avoid them," he says, nuzzling my ear. It's getting really hard to think, not that I mind all that much. He's so warm.
"I know that," I mutter, feeling silly.
He pulls away suddenly, his deep green eyes staring into mine. The expression there is so tender and warm that I swear I can feel myself melting. "If I could, I would keep you from all pain, forever."
"I know," I whisper as he leans in, kissing me softly. My hands tangle in his hair, keeping him close, making it very clear one kiss isn't nearly enough. Neither is two or three or twelve. When we finally stop, I tuck my head beneath his chin, and he pulls me a little closer.
"Did you at least get the book?" he asks, his voice low and soft.
"Oh!" I point to where the book I'd grabbed out is laying, a few feet away. Kurama reaches behind his ear, pulling out a seed he has pinched between his fingers. He tosses it toward the book, and where it lands a plant starts to sprout. Its tendrils wrap around the cover, carrying it toward us. Kurama takes it from the plant, passing it to me.
"Is that it?" he asks.
I flip open the worn leather binding, wincing at the smell. "Yeah, this is it." I thumb through the first few pages, frowning. "Just as dense I remember. This is why I didn't read it when I was a kid."
"Ah yes," Kurama deadpans. "The only thing stopping a child from reading advanced negotiation literature is how dense it is."
"Hey," I grumble, elbowing him, but not too roughly. "You wouldn't believe the things my father made me read."
"I'm sure," he replies, shifting me so that my back is against his chest. "Read to me?"
"What?" I crane my neck around to look at him, saying, "Kurama, this is really boring."
"I'd like to learn what you're learning," he says, his expression serious. "That way, you can rely on me if you need to. You've been doing so much on your own lately, and I want to be able to help."
Oh, dear. He almost looks...petulant. And it's adorable. "Thank you, Kurama," I tell him, squeezing his hands. "It's such a habit that I don't think about it anymore, but I'll try to lean on you more."
"Good," he says, kissing the top of my head. "Now read to me. I'm ready to learn."
I laugh, smiling warmly before I flip to the first page, beginning to read.