A/N: If I titled these chapters I think this one would be called "Hard Feelings (and other appendages)." Because I'm subtle like that.

Trigger Warning: Kurama does start to have what I suppose you could call a panic attack, but it's brief.

"Have a drink with me," Kurama requested of Hiei on the night of his mother's funeral.

They'd just gotten back home after a long and exhausting day, and all Kurama wanted to do was unwind. Too many thoughts circled around in his head; an infinite loop of unanswerable questions swarming him like agitated wasps, painful and stinging. He couldn't seem to redirect himself no matter how hard he tried - and that in itself was unbearably annoying.

Hiei's reponse annoyed him, too: "I don't drink."

"Neither do I, as you well know." The words came out gritty and unfiltered. He frowned. "Tonight, however, I believe I will make an exception."

So off to the kitchen he went, extracting two clear glasses from the cupboard and an aged bottle of Makai liquor - a gift, though at the present moment he couldn't recall from whom, and didn't care to. He poured one drink, downed it in three long gulps despite the atrocious taste, then poured two more; another for himself, and one for Hiei.

"If you drink that fast, you'll black out."

Hiei had silently appeared behind him, apparently just to scold him. Luckily, the fox expected as much, so he didn't startle. "I'm aware," he snapped back, sipping at his second drink with a more modest pace. "Why don't you try yours? It's quite good." A lie, though it sounded like the truth. His always did.

"I don't drink."

"So you've said." Kurama picked up the second glass anyway, shifting his position to extend it to Hiei. "Though I think you've proven yourself capable of humoring me, which is something I'd hope you'd be inclined to do, tonight of all nights."

It was a risky thing to say, all things considered - outright manipulation, not subtle in the least. Hiei had been his partner for more than enough time to spot it, and recognize it as such. His outward expression didn't so much as twitch, Kurama noted, but Hiei snatched the glass with more force than necessary.

"Fine," he bit out, taking a tentative sip. His boyish nose scrunched in distaste, though it seemed he tolerated it well enough otherwise. "If you insist we drink this disgusting concoction, we will drink it comfortably. Go sit down on the couch."

Pleased at his partner's compliance, Kurama rewarded him with a chaste kiss before making his way over to the living room. The alcohol he'd guzzled had already hit his system hard; he'd made it about halfway there when he realized he'd forgotten something.

"Oh, and Hiei? Bring the bottle."

Later, after so many drinks Kurama could barely lift his head, Hiei carried him up the stairs and tucked him into bed.

"You hardly drank at all," Kurama complained once Hiei slipped under the covers as well, only after stripping away the suit Kurama had forced him into much earlier. He considered telling the demon he was proud of him for wearing it for so long, but the thought floated away from him before he could voice it.

Warm hands stroked at his hair; an action Hiei knew would lull him to sleep.

"I drank enough," he said, tone unusually soft. "You drank too much. You wouldn't have made it up here had I not carried you."

Kurama made a noise of disagreement, too tired to speak anymore. Just as he thought, Hiei's ministrations had his eyes sliding shut, the velvet curtain of sleep closing in on him.

Before it claimed him, however, Hiei spoke again. "I'll always carry you, Kurama. I hope you know that."

Kurama smiled, but sleep took him before he'd thought to reply.

That night had marked the change within himself that still plagued him, even now.

He woke up groggy and disoriented, as per usual, but also deeply unsettled by the memory disguising itself as a dream. He could hardly be bothered to even open his eyes, let alone move, and he deliberated just going back to sleep for awhile whether or not his presence was expected downstairs.

Then a warm body shifted next to him, smelling of smoke and pine, and Kurama's eyes flew open wide, terrified of who he'd find next to him.

Only he realized, after seeing that it was Yusuke he shared his bed with, that the smell wasn't emanating from him. Or at least, not much of it.

His bedsheets smelled like Hiei. His hair smelled like Hiei. The particular aroma of his jilted lover, a scent he'd indulged in a thousand times over, lingered in every corner of this room, prickling at his nose everytime he breathed. Kurama felt like it could drown him.

Panic frayed the edges of his mind, raw and fierce. He couldn't handle this; he didn't want to. Hiei had been here. Hiei had touched him.

He turned violently and buried his face in Yusuke's shirtfront without a second thought, nose pressed tight against the fabric; a desperate attempt to focus on Yusuke's fragrance instead of the one haunting him.

"Wuzzhappenin'? K'rama?"

Body trembling, he didn't answer; wouldn't dare. He only pressed closer, greedily inhaling Yusuke's scent - heady and warm, like the man himself.

"Hey," Yusuke tried again, much more alert this time, "what's wrong? Another nightmare?" Arms encircled him, longer ones than he'd grown accustomed to, but the effect was similar. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing came easier. For just one blissful moment, he felt at ease - and then Yusuke started to pull away, taking those good feelings with him.

Kurama would not have it.

He near about jumped on the other man, slinging his leg around Yusuke's hip to keep him in place. Yusuke hands grabbed ahold of his waist, likely to steady him - in his haste he'd nearly flung himself over the edge of the bed. Both of them stared at the other in quiet surprise - although Kurama assumed his surprise differed a bit from Yusuke's.

After all, with their bodies joined together this way, it became very clear what Yusuke had been dreaming about before Kurama's rude interruption.

"Shit," said Yusuke, eloquent as always, "this isn't what it seems like."

What happened next could have been attributed to many things, such as Yusuke's comical expression of embarrassment, or Kurama's unhinged state of mind. Either way, the consequence was laughter. Kurama threw back his head and laughed until tears stung his eyes. He laughed until Yusuke, startled and concerned at first, joined him. The two of them shared the joy of laughter longer than the situation probably warranted; nevertheless, after it was over, Kurama felt infinitely better.

Mopping away the wetness from his eyes and grinning up at him widely, Yusuke tentatively inquired, "so...you're not mad?"

"I assume you're speaking of the more common definition, otherwise I fear the answer may be yes." He smiled when Yusuke's eyes flashed, dark with worry. "Relax, Yusuke, I'm only kidding. I do still own a sense of humor."

"Yeah, a fucked up one."

"Perhaps." The other man's sour face sobered him, and the sharp edges of guilt coalescing in his stomach sliced him clean through. He was acting rather out of sorts; Yusuke must've been experiencing some serious emotional whiplash. Gentling his tone in an effort to convey an apology, Kurama said, "regardless of my poor taste in jokes, the answer to your question is no. Why on earth would I be angry with you?"

"Well," Yusuke's face flushed pink as he spoke, "I slept in your bed without permission, for one. And then there's..." He trailed off pointedly, which Kurama had no trouble interpreting - he still sat upon him, after all. "Y'know, so I thought maybe you'd be pissed."

Kurama regarded him uncertainly, lost somewhere between what Yusuke was saying and what he was not. The other man groaned in frustration, clearly having trouble expressing himself.

"It just seems kinda...damn it, I just - I don't want you to feel like I'm coming on to you while you're all vulnerable, okay?"

Oh. He certainly hadn't expected that.

"It never crossed my mind to suspect that of you, I assure you." He meant to sound reassuring, but it came out sprinkled with bitterness. Deciding that it would be best to disentangle himself from the other at that point, the fox promptly did so. Yusuke looked confused at his aboutface, though a little relief was visible too. That only served to darken Kurama's mood further, which did not go unnoticed.

"...shit, what did I say?"

Kurama hummed inquisitively, reaching for his robe hanging from the bedpost.

"Now you really do seem pissed."

Not an incorrect observation, albeit an oversimplified one. Kurama felt a many number of things as he stood and wrapped his robe around himself, anger being one of them. He just wasn't certain who it was aimed at - Yusuke or himself. Probably both.

Mostly, as he often did these days, he felt the unnamable sensation of wishing to not feel anything at all.

"Are you in need of the bathroom before I shower?" A redundant question, since there was also a bathroom downstairs Yusuke could use, but they both knew he asked it to end the conversation before a much different one could begin.

Yusuke almost fought him on it, Kurama could tell. Sympathy and frustration warred on his lovely face for a minute too long - it was awkward now, not how he intended the mood to fluctuate at all. Still, he said nothing, politely waiting for the other man to grunt a decidedly irritated "no," before he walked out.

As he strode quickly to the master bathroom, Kurama thought about the unavoidable fact that no matter how deep, the well of Yusuke's sympathy would inevitably run dry. One day, likely soon, his sympathy would give way to his anger, and he'd no longer back down when Kurama expressed any modicum of discomfort. There was no telling how unpleasant their conversations would become when that happened - best to be prepared.

Pitiful or not, the best method of preparation he could think of once he closed and locked the bathroom door was to open his medicine cabinet and be sure his hiding place hadn't been found, only after he turned on the water to muffle any unusual sounds that might have alerted his guests. Kurama filled the empty flask in the pocket of his robe first, then gulped straight from the bottle until nothing left of the emotional stormcloud hanging over his head remained.

When he finally shuffled down the stairs in search of breakfast after showering and dressing for the day, he found Yusuke and the boys in the kitchen, already partaking in their meal. He also found that Yusuke wasn't speaking to him. From the way he avoided eye contact once Kurama sat down at the table with his own plate to tuck into, he surmised he wouldn't look at him either.

So be it, he rationalized. Kurama could bear the tension. He could handle uncomfortable silences.

Kai, evidently, could not. He studied the two adults periodically as they all ate, displeasure obvious on his young face. It came as no surprise that he was first crack, reaching over to tug at his father's sleeve. "Dad, can we do training after breakfast?"

An innocent enough subject, but the child couldn't help the nervous delivery. Yusuke noticed it too, if the subtly tense line of his shoulders was any indication. "Dishes before training, kiddo," he reminded his son softly, "you know that."

Kai wilted but did not argue.

Seconds later, however, his older brother decided he wanted to save the day.

"I can do them," Kenji said, serious eyes turned on Yusuke. Kurama wondered if Yusuke ever looked at his eldest son and saw his reflection staring back at him; the resemblance was uncanny from his jet-black hair to his mahogany colored eyes. The only thing that didn't match was their personalities.

"All by yourself?"

"Uncle Kurama can help me." Three stares swung, then, casting him as the center of attention. "Right?"

The pointedness to his question forbade. Kurama wasn't keen on the idea of being alone with this child, not after that, but these were his guests. He'd been raised better than to decline a request, and such a simple one at that. "Of course, Kenji. I'd be delighted to."

The boy smiled at him in reply - an unnatural smile, much more calculated than genuine.

Kurama understood, because that's exactly how he smiled back.