Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Into the Gray	By : Dementian Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kurama/Kuwabara Views: 2206 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho and make zero money off of it.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
   Kazuma spent three days after that night with Kurama. He worked from his apartment, Kurama sleeping over, and the pair of them allowed their lives to intertwine. After Kurama’s admission he had been utterly exhausted, unable to decide who he was or what he wanted to be. Kazuma offered him no solutions, simply giving his support, and kissing away his worries whenever they surfaced. It became obvious to him now just how much Kurama had needed his love in the time that it had been gone. Kurama was weak, pallid and gray faced. Food was an obvious answer, but Kazuma decided it was his goal to rebuild Kurama’s vitality, to make those sweet green eyes glow again.
   Kurama had decided to quit his step-father’s company, a move with Kazuma stood behind and fully endorsed as Kurama started to look into the concept of owning an herbal shop. Kurama certainly had the supplies to make his first move, but he lacked the ability to concentrate on the shop and remember to live well at the same time. This was where Kazuma came in, ensuring that he ate well and slept through the night. Suddenly his bed was their nest, and like two birds weathering out a storm they burrowed down together to hide from the world. There was no sexual intimacy between them yet; they did not need it to be whole. Their relationship was built not on skin but on trust, on the desperate burning desire to drown grief with love.
   Shiori was confused at Kurama’s move, as Kurama had led her to believe that he was happy working for his step-father. Sensing an upheaval in her son’s life, Shiori had called and offered to take him dinner. But during that conversation, Kurama had looked at Kazuma from across the living room where he poured over client files in his boxers, and instead made a decision that would prompt a terrified panic in Kazuma: Kurama would make Shiori a homemade dinner in Kazuma’s apartment, and during that visit tell Shiori about their relationship.
   It was impossible for Kazuma to feel entirely satisfied with his apartment, even when he cleaned it from top to bottom twice. Kurama was making a traditional Japanese meal, something he felt his mother would enjoy. Kazuma bought a nicely scented candle, hoping to make his apartment smell better (there were downsides to living with a cat), and had nearly bought flowers as well before Kurama had halted him in his tracks with a burst of laughter before producing exotic flowers right in the palm of his hand for Kazuma to put in a vase. Admittedly, looking back, it had been a silly thing to think of doing. He supposed he would never have to buy flowers again - yet another perk of being in love with Kurama.
   When the clock neared six thirty Saturday night, Kazuma flitted about in an anxious panic. He was certain he’d left something out, that something wouldn’t be clean or something dirty would be showing, and Shiori would think him unfit for her son. He’d dressed as nice as he dared, seeing as Kurama was simply in beige slacks and a white button down, but he still felt like a slob for some reason. Kurama was preparing dinner, stirring the miso soup cautiously as he cast a glance over his shoulder at Kazuma who continued to pace.
   “It’s fine,” Kurama soothed him, though he’d made no sound of alarm.
   “It’s not fine,” Kazuma said. He was certain sweat was dripping down his face. Was it hot in here or was it just him? “This place is a wreck and I look like trash, and-“ But even as he made to insult himself some more, Kurama abandoned the miso soup to sweep himself into Kazuma’s arms and place the most tender of kisses upon his fevered mouth.
   The silence that followed made Kazuma’s heart flutter momentarily.
   “It’s fine,” Kurama repeated, kissing him one more time for posterity’s sake.
   There came a knock at the door.
   “Are you certain you want to tell her tonight?” Kazuma asked, heading with Kurama down the hallway and towards the door.
   “Yes,” Kurama said, “But let me do it.” He looked over his shoulder one last time, smiling hesitantly at Kazuma. “And remember, Shuichi.”
   “Shuichi,” Kazuma repeated, determined not to slip up once. Grateful for his cooperation, Kurama kissed him again.
   He turned back to the door, and reached out to open it.
   Shiori was looking the opposite way, scanning Kazuma’s neighboring apartments, but turned back around promptly to beam at her son as she stepped inside and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kazuma saw a flash of an IV pinned to her arm with hospital tape, hidden underneath the sleeve of her lilac cardigan. It made his heart sink, as he realized the extent of medication she must be on. God, how he wished there was something he could do. He tried to hide his sorrow from his face, wanting to look pleasant and at ease as Shiori stepped back and Kurama closed the door.
   “Oh, thank goodness,” Shiori laughed, and Kazuma saw a bottle of sake sticking out of her purse as she set her bag down on the floor to hug Kurama more properly. It made a warm sensation blossom in Kazuma’s chest when he saw Kurama’s face sink into a contented smile as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m glad I got the right place,” Shiori said. “I was worried for a minute; this is such a busy part of town but it sure is lovely.”
   “I’m happy to see you, mother,” Kurama said into her shoulder.
“Me, too, sweetheart.” She squeezed him as tightly as she could in her obviously weakened state, and when she pulled back she picked her purse up again and pulled out the bottle of sake.
   “I brought something fun to drink,” she said merrily. “I thought ‘why not?’” Suddenly Kurama’s pleasant expression nearly turned green as he eyed the alcohol.
   “You go ahead.” Kurama’s tone was meek as he looked away from the sake, “I had an experience with alcohol about a week ago and frankly...” He paused, unsure of what to say next, “I am not in the mood.”
   “Oh, dear.” Shiori was quite tickled by Kurama’s reaction. “Well, I may just have to share this with Kazuma, then.”
   It was then that she finally turned to Kazuma and made to hug him as well; the fact that she’d said his first name alone made his heart soar.
   “Hello, Kazuma. Thank you for letting me have dinner at your apartment,” Shiori said, turning to greet him. “I really appreciate it.”
   “Hi,” Kazuma managed to get out, still chuffed at her calling him by his first name. She was much shorter than he, even shorter than Urameshi perhaps, and he had to bend over to hug her adequately. She felt so frail in his arms, as if he could snap her into pieces without trying. It was a frightening thought, and he did not dwell on it long.
   “Welcome to my place,” Kazuma said, gesturing about though there was very little to see since they were only in the hallway. “I’m so sorry if it’s, uh-“
   “It’s lovely,” Shiori assured him, and as the moved through the hallway back into the kitchen she peered about in the living room, “What a beautiful home.”
   “I have a cat. Just so you know.” Kazuma said, gesturing to Eikichi who was laying upon the floor in a most unhelpful manner, “She’s really fat.”
   “Eikichi.” Kurama said, and Shiori seemed tickled as she stared down at, Eikichi whose tail thumped the floor every so often.
   “Eikichi. I love it.” Shiori said, regarding it with a chuckle. “Goodness, I know I’m eating well tonight.”
   Kurama could not help but laugh.
   “I’m so glad you’re cooking for me,” Shiori said as they moved into the kitchen. Kazuma turned down the heat on the miso soup, allowing it to simmer as Kurama helped Shiori to sit. Kazuma noticed that her legs wobbled when she took her weight off them; his heart leapt in fear again. “I confess it’s exhausting always being the one to cook. Your father and brother try and help but they could burn water if they put their minds to it.”
   “I’m in the same boat,” Kazuma said, and he poured Shiori a cup of green tea. Shiori smiled at him, accepting the cup with grace and blowing on it softly.
   “Don’t listen to him,” Kurama warned by the oven, checking on the salmon baking inside, “He’s actually quite good at cooking, as you will see.”
   “Architect, cook, cat lover, handsome...” Shiori teased, “Where did you come from?”
   “Sariashiki High,” Kazuma could not help but laugh, suddenly quite embarrassed as he helped Kurama to serve their plates. Was he handsome? He really couldn’t tell.
   “Oh, that’s right!” Shiori said, “I remember you didn’t go to Shuichi’s school.”
   “No, we met through Yusuke,” said Kurama.
   Shiori just sat in appreciative silence, watching how seamlessly they worked together in the kitchen. The flowers Kurama had grown captivated her interest very little; instead she focused on watching her son, in how he smiled at Kazuma and silently helped him to serve the fish.
   “What?” Kurama asked, catching sight of Shiori watching him.
   “Just grateful for Yusuke," Shiori murmured, sipping her tea.
   “I think we all have been at some point or another,” Kazuma said. “I know I have.”
   He’d also wanted to pound the little twerp’s face in, too, but he wasn’t going to tell Shiori that.
   They ate in merry company, Kurama explaining to Shiori how he planned to take the property he’d bought and turn it into an herbal shop. Kazuma felt exceedingly smart at being able to comment on its structure, complementing Kurama on his impeccable taste (the woodwork of the shop was jaw dropping). Kazuma had decided to forgo the skyscraper in Tokyo to instead focus on repairing and constructing artistic dojos, having taken on several new clients in the past week to make up for lost time and energy. Shiori was captivated by it all, asking him question after question as they finished their meal and made their way out onto the back porch. Despite having brought sake, no one seemed eager to drink. Shiori was much more content with her tea, and as she lounged upon Kazuma’s balcony in a reclining chair, Kazuma sat beside her pealing a tangerine. Kurama leaned upon the railing, drinking his own tea and truly seeming to enjoy the moment. He looked more at peace than Kazuma had ever seen him.
   Currently they were talking about the night that Yusuke’s had opened. Shiori seemed to be quite proud of Kazuma, smiling fondly at the memory of the evening despite the chaos that had followed it.
   “Now, when I was at the bar, I ran into the most charming man. I think he was your father,” Shiori said.

   Kazuma finished pealing the tangerine and began to pull it apart into segments, “Yeah, Jiro Kuwabara... that’s him.”
   “He’s quite funny, you take after him,” Shiori said with a smile. Kazuma wondered if he really took after his father. He certainly didn’t think so. Jiro was more like Shizuru... Kazuma was more like his mother, from what little he remembered of her. “My father was the same way. I can remember him constantly picking on me when I was about your age. You’re... twenty four?”
   “I actually turned twenty five in February,” Kazuma said, recalling the memory quite fondly as it had involved a piece of birthday cake being fed to him by Kurama after everyone else had gone home. That had been a delightful night.
   “Oh, I’m a little behind, then,” Shiori remarked with a shrug.
   “Shuichi didn’t tell us about his birthday for years,” Kazuma said, and Kurama gave him a look of slight warning as he took another sip of tea in silence.
   “Yes, he’s rather reclusive,” Shiori agreed. She nudged Kazuma’s thigh with her bare foot, giving him a suggestive look, “What ever will we do about that?”
   “Why must the conversation always return to me?” Kurama grumbled, eager to stay out of the spotlight.
   “Because you are wonderful and I love you,” Shiori said, voicing Kazuma’s internal dialogue to the T.
   “Here, here,” Kazuma praised her, handing her a piece of tangerine which she ate at once. “And you talk about yourself way too little. We have to find a way to praise you.”
   “I agree!” Shiori said, and suddenly the pair of them were smiling at each other wickedly.
   “Oh goody,” Kurama grumbled under his breath, “I’m being tag teamed.”
   Kurama shook his head, and as he did so his collar slipped just for a moment to reveal a prominent bite mark on his neck. Kazuma knew Shiori saw because he saw it too, and he was surprised when Shiori smiled again. That same, strange smile she had worn back in the kitchen before dinner.
   Kurama caught her expression.
   “Are you alright?” he asked.
   “A little achey,” Shiori said. “I think I have some pills in my purse--“
   “I’ll go get them for you,” Kurama said at once, setting down his tea and heading back into the apartment.

   “Thank you, sweetie.”
   Shiori looked to Kazuma, smiling.
   He had a feeling he knew what was going to be coming next.
   “I’m so glad that he has someone like you in his life,” Shiori murmured, her tone quite sincere. A soft night wind blew her brown curly hair, momentarily lifting it up from her neck. Kazuma saw the yellow stain of iodine lingering there, a reminder that she’d been in the hospital. “For years he... never really had any friends. Then he met Hiei and Yusuke and everything changed. I’m so grateful you’ve come along.”
   Kazuma smiled.
   “Back at the opening of the restaurant... I noticed how you stood by one another.” Kazuma nodded, listening intently. “I wondered. But he’s so private, he doesn’t exactly confide in me about such things. I think he’s afraid I’ll worry. It’s difficult for me to explain to him that I want to be worried; that being worried makes me happy, in a weird, motherly way.”
   She stopped talking, and Kazuma understood it was safe for him to respond.
   “We started... dating... around January,” Kazuma said. Shiori just beamed, lacking the energy but not the love as she nibbled on her tangerine and contemplated this development. “I think he wanted to be the one to tell you.”
   “Let’s pretend you didn’t tell me, and see if he does.” Shiori chuckled, “He’s just like his father. He always forgets the small things.”
   And suddenly Kazuma could not help but wonder about Kurama’s father. Who was he? Where was he? Shiori was remarried and she didn’t seem old enough to be a widow unless a tragic accident or a fatal disease had occurred. He suppose both were relatively common, which pained him; he hoped it would not be too intrusive to speak on the subject.
   “Hey, Ms. Shiori, can I ask you something?” Kazuma paused as Shiori smiled at him.
   “Of course, Kazuma.”
   “What happened to Shuichi’s dad? Is he alive?”
   Shiori’s smile began to drop, but she didn’t seem too uncomfortable as she looked out at the city beyond his balcony railing. The wind blew her hair again, lovely and brown in the dark deep night.
   “I don’t really know,” Shiori said, and Kazuma was surprised by such an answer. It must have shown on his face, for Shiori merely smiled and explained in a quiet voice, “Shuichi’s father... he has... had... a difficult time with life. He didn’t have it together, he couldn’t understand what it meant to be a parent. He was a genius, very smart and very charismatic... but I left him for a reason. He’d show up randomly, and hassle me. Attempt to see Shuichi, but I wouldn’t let him. I never let him.”
   And suddenly, those gentle deep black eyes were beginning to glare. Not at Kazuma but at an unseen enemy, one long gone yet far from forgotten.
   “Oh, he’d be sweet and kind and worm his way into the house. But he’d turn on me. he always turned on me when he tried to see Shuichi. When I didn’t let him, he’d throw low blows. He’d insult personal qualities that I was very insecure about during my youth. He was not a nice person.” Her tone quiet and dark.
   Kazuma did not know what to say. He’d envisioned Kurama’s father to be someone of good standing, a gentleman in Kurama’s own vision. This startling revelation suddenly reminded him of how lucky he was to have his own father.

   He was suddenly seeing a memory from long ago of Yusuke as a child, pressed up against the brick wall of their school playground with a terrified look upon his usually angry face. A looming figure over him, barking at him; a bruise slowly beginning to form under one of Yusuke’s wide eyes.
   Urameshi had had no idea Kazuma had seen that. Kazuma had no desire to tell him now even in their adulthood.
   He was brought back to present when Shiori laid her hand upon his own; Kazuma could see very vein beneath her thin pale skin and it unnerved him. She looked at him, searching for something in his face as she spoke.
   “When I...” Shiori broke off, looking over her shoulder. Kurama was preparing another pot of tea, quite calm and unaware of their observance.
   When I die, she meant to say.
   “Don’t ever let him near Shuichi,” Shiori whispered. “If you see him. Ever.”
   “I won’t,” Kazuma assured her quickly, earnestly. “I promise you, I won’t. I’ll take care of him.”
   And it was those words that made Shiori smile the most as she squeezed his hand.
   “You have no idea how truly... grateful I am,” she whispered.
   Kazuma did know. It made him proud, brave to know that he could care for her son in her stead when she passed. Shiori liked him, trusted him.
   Kurama returned to the porch, a fresh cup of tea for Shiori and a pair of blue pills in hand. Shiori took all three, swallowing the pills and chasing it down with tea. She sighed.
   “Thank you,” she said.
   Kurama returned to the balcony railing, relaxed as he leaned back to observe the stars above.
   “You look pensive,” Shiori stated. “Is there something that you want to tell me?”
   Kurama looked back down at Shiori, perplexed. When he saw the creeping smile on her face and the blush on Kazuma’s own, he made a deep noise under his breath and rolled his eyes.
   “Well, I doubt there’s any need to do so now,” Kurama grumbled. Kazuma could not meet his gaze, feeling as if he’d ruined the whole surprise. But honestly, how could he resist Shiori?
   “She asked, I couldn’t...” Kazuma raised his hands apologetically, “I’m sorry. I’ve robbed you of the conversation.”
   “It is hardly something to be discussed. I merely wondered if you knew,” Kurama said, to which Shiori nodded.
   “Well to be fair, I’ve known for a while.” Shiori said. Kurama did a double take, and she answered his questioning gaze at once, “At the party, when Yusuke’s opened, I noticed on your neck there was a mark-“
   Perhaps without thinking, Kurama clamped a hand down upon his neck where a current mark now sat. His face was bright red, redder than any shade Kazuma had ever seen him wear before, and he was stupefied into silence as Shiori began to titter with laughter.
   “What?" Shiori tried, but Kurama only looked away; the steam coming off of him could be felt in waves.
   “Dear god help me,” Kurama whispered, mortified. Kazuma wondered if Kurama would be able to regain his composure now, the calm illusion of stoicism broken by a hickie.

~*~
   The next week rolled past, and, strangely enough, Kurama found himself preparing for yet another family dinner as the first Sunday of October rolled around. Kazuma’s father was insistent that Kazuma bring Kurama to their family meal, and so Kurama put on his best once more only to take Kazuma’s motorcycle through the winding streets of Sariashiki on a warm and clear night. Winter would be arriving late this year. Kazuma’s childhood home was located on a suburban block, a pleasant place much like the home Kurama had grown up in, and as they pulled into the drive they saw a black Toyota already parked out front. It seemed that Shizuru and Yukina had arrived ahead of them.
   Kazuma was once again nervous as they headed up the front steps, though at least this time he did not have to play the part of host (taking a great deal of stress off his shoulders).
   As he fished for the key to the front door, Kazuma grumbled under his breath.
   “Well...” Kazuma sighed, “this ought to be fun.”
   Kurama smiled at him.
   “I’m nervous,” Kazuma stated, though there was really no need. It was obvious. “My dad and sister are gonna pick on me all night.”
   Kurama snorted, reaching up to kiss Kazuma sweetly upon the cheek. He felt Kazuma bristle under the touch of his lips, his movements stilling as Kurama let his lips linger upon Kazuma’s cheek.
   “Does that help?” Kurama whispered in his ear.
   Kazuma grinned cheekily. “Mmm.” He opened up the door, allowing to Kurama to walk in first with a gentle hand upon his lower back.
   “Hello?” Kazuma called out; the foyer was empty save for several pairs of abandoned shoes, “Where is everyone?”
   “We’re out back!” came Shizuru’s voice from somewhere to the far right.
   The Kuwabara household was broad and well lived in. A set of stairs lead to the second floor on the left, while straight ahead lay a family gathering area layered in tatami mats. To the right was the kitchen as well as an office that was utterly strewn with papers. Beyond the kitchen (where it was obvious a meal had already been prepared) lay a backdoor that was open wide onto an elevated wooden porch. Kazuma took the lead and Kurama followed, the pair of them stepping onto to see Shizuru and Yukina relaxing at a patio table; Yukina was sitting in Shizuru’s lap, her hair in braided pig tails. Jiro himself was at the grill that stood not too far off, cooking steaks (or so it smelt) with an apron on that stated ‘I kiss better than I cook’. Once again he was wearing sunglasses as he turned and regarded his son. Though Kurama could not see Jiro’s eyes, he knew that Jiro’s gaze was warm. He was a warm man, everything about him reeking of positivity and good will.
   “What’s going on, Kazu?” Jiro said, and the pair of them hugged each other in bizarre fashion. It was more of an exchange of back slaps than actual hugs. Still, Kazuma grinned.
   “Hey, bro,” Shizuru said. Kazuma tipped his chin to her and she smiled.
   “Hello,” Yukina said, her voice sweet and mild as she waved to Kurama, and he waved back silently. Kurama did not wish to intrude upon such a family scene, keeping back and leaning against the porch railing. But Jiro was looking at him, waiting for him to do something; Kurama smiled.
   “Good evening,” Kurama finally said.
   “So dig this,” Jiro said to Kurama, gesturing at him while holding a scotch in one hand. “Yukina tells me that she’s got something she wants to show me. So we head out here, and look what she does.” Jiro handed his glass to Yukina, and she took it to blow across its glassy rim. From where her breath touched the glass, a thick frost formed, the sound of ice expanding hitting the air as the entire glass became coated into a wintery sheen.
   Kurama’s stomach dropped a little. It seemed Jiro knew far too much about demons. Kurama would have to play his cards well to keep to a state of normality before Jiro.
   He did not want Jiro to know any more about him than he already did.
   “One hell of a party trick, eh?” Jiro applauded Yukina, accepting his glass back to take a swig of cooled scotch, “I shall never drink a lukewarm drink again! Ice me, Yukina!” Jiro commanded.
   Yukina formed a tiny snow ball in the palm of her hand and flung it at Jiro playfully, who winced into the white powdery explosion and quickly shook it off his toes; he wore sandals and the snow no doubt stung.
   Kurama tried for a wane smile, but it slipped off his face at Jiro’s next remark.
   “The jig is up, Kurama,” Jiro said to him; though his tone was kind, his words were firm.
   “...Jig?” Kurama repeated, suddenly growing tense.
   “I know you’re a quiet guy. You keep your business to yourself, and I respect that,” Jiro said. “You have a human mother and a human life that you live, but you’re not really human. So you have this other life, the one you share with Kazuma, Shizuru, and Yukina... right?”
   Kurama sighed haggardly, catching Shizuru’s gaze. How much had she told her father? What did he know and not know? Kurama did not like being in the dark about his own secrets, suddenly wishing that Shizuru had kept her information to herself. The Kuwabara family did not enjoy keeping private affairs, but Kurama had no choice. If Shiori found out that he was a demon while suffering as she was from a brain tumor, the shock might kill her. He kept his secrets for her sake as much as any other.
   “More or less,” Kurama said, simply because everyone was looking at him and waiting for him to speak.
   Jiro was still watching him, waiting for a concrete answer.
   “Yes,” Kurama said.
   “You’re a demon, like Yukina?” Jiro gestured to Yukina, who smiled though she pursed her lips and quietly fretted. Perhaps she knew how suddenly timid Kurama felt, overwhelmed by people on all sides asking for answers.
   “In a way,” Kurama replied, for although he was a demon, he was also locked in a human body and certainly could not manipulate ice.

   “And you can control plants, right?” Jiro asked.

   Kurama glared dully at Shizuru.
   “Yes.” It seemed that perhaps there was no longer much to hide. Shizuru was unabashed, drinking her coke with a small smile upon her face. Kurama supposed that it was difficult to be irritable when you had a beautiful woman sitting on your lap throwing snowballs at your father.
   “... Party trick?” Jiro offered, gesturing around to the back yard. It seemed he had ulterior motives for hosting their meal outside.

   Kurama sighed, knowing that it would be rude now to do nothing. It would take very little to impress someone like Jiro, who had never seen the true scale of demon power and therefore could not be expecting a wild performance that Kurama might pull off with a true opponent. Kurama raised his spirit energy, focusing on the honeysuckle bushes that covered the backward fence as he raised a finger. They suddenly burst into bloom, their bright yellow blossoms unfurling and offering a sweet, gentle smell to the warm air.
   “Wow!” Jiro cried out, grinning from ear to ear. “That is something!”
   “Kurama can do a whole lot more than that, dad,” Shizuru warned.
   “He was on Kazuma’s team in the Dark Tournament,” Yukina added. So it seemed Jiro knew about that particular escapade too? God, how much did this man know?
   “You were on the team?” Jiro demanded, taking off his sun glasses and regarding Kurama with newfound interest. Perhaps he had taken Kurama’s quiet demeanor and willowy frame to be evidence that he was not a fighter and could not engage in battle.
   Yet Jiro was not the kind of man to dislike being wrong, and when he grinned at Kurama, it was now in keen earnest.
   “Come on, you gotta do something big. Please!” Jiro urged. “Please, show me something wild!”
   He was like a child, his good mood was infectious.
   Very well.

   Kurama reached into his hair and summoned more energy so that a rose appeared in his hand. Kazuma took an automatic step back, grinning from ear to ear as Kurama flicked his hand hard to the side.
   “Rose whip!”
   Jiro burst into a tirade of screeches, downright thrilled when a green whip shot from Kurama’s hand, decked in long, deadly thorns. The whip coiled as though it were a snake ready to strike, a reminder of the substantial power Kurama held. He smiled bitterly as Jiro continued to make ridiculous noises; with another flick of his hand, his energy dissipated, and his whip vanished into green smoke. Jiro was still tutting, beaming as he returned his attention to the grill to flip the steaks.

   “Damn, that is cool!” Jiro cursed. “So you can hold your own right up there with Yusuke and Hiei-“
   Suddenly Jiro’s good mood faltered, and he turned on Kurama with a sharp finger and a wary eye. Suddenly Kurama felt like he was being reprimanded, a child once again before a stern parent.

   “By the way!” Jiro said, “That little pod trick was not cute! Imagine my shock when I find out this crazy vision I had of a hobo was just you in my head trying to make me forget what I really saw. Bad, Kurama. Bad.” Jiro returned to the steaks.
   Kurama gave Shizuru yet another withering glare, but Shizuru was shaking her head and pointing to Yukina.
   Suddenly Kurama understood; Hiei was Yukina’s brother. Of course she would want Jiro to know the truth. He sighed, shaking his head.
   “I didn’t have time to isolate targets,” Kurama reminded, his tone gentle but firm.
   “Well next time tell me to get behind the stage too. Damn.” Jiro snorted. He was far from angry, if anything he seemed humored, “You’re a scary one, you know that?”
   Kurama didn’t particularly care for that comment, not after all he’d just endured in lieu of Hiei’s suffering.
   “He was protecting us!” Kazuma suddenly said, “He’s not scary. He’s really smart. He didn’t want me or Urameshi to get hurt-“
   “You are so weird!” Jiro interrupted, his tone hot but still humored, “Call your best friend by his first name; God only knows you had a crush on him for years!”
   Kazuma gagged on his tongue, his eyes popping as Shizuru burst into a peal of laughter.
   Dinner was a fun affair, steaks and salad a filling meal as the five of them went around in chorus of conversation. It was odd to eat with the Kuwabara’s to watch them interact as a true family ought to, and Kurama enjoyed it immensely.
   Yet as they started on dessert, a cherry tart made by Yukina, Jiro suddenly turned to her for conversation.
   “So, Yukina, where are you from?” Jiro asked.
   “I am from the ice world,” Yukina explained. “The Hyouga. It’s a floating island that drifts high above demon world.”
   “Sounds like a sweet dig,” Jiro commented, but Yukina disagreed with a shake of her head.
   A memory was calling to Kurama, something muddled by wine that he could not quite recall as fast as he ought to be able to.
   “It’s not,” Yukina warned. “It’s barren and isolated; cold and unforgiving. A truly miserable place to live. I’m glad I escaped.”
   Jiro did a double take at the word. “Escaped?”
   Yukina slowly stopped eating her tart, looking down at the napkin in her lap. Shizuru watched her every move, a panther on the prowl. Shizuru was just like Kazuma, sucking in every detail before it could escape her. Perhaps she noted the slight crease that momentarily flickered between Yukina’s fine brow.
   “My people, the Koorime, live away from the rest of demon world society. We are a tribe of females, that reproduce every one hundred years by asexual means. We do not associate with outsiders, and we never leave our island.” Yukina paused.
   “Who does that to an infant?” Hiei’s voice suddenly resounded in Kurama’s head.
   His heart fluttered in his chest; what had been done to Hiei as an infant?
   “We are taught to fear men, and any other demons in general. My leaving the island marked me as an outsider. I have not been back since.” Yukina finished with at tight smile.
   “Wow,” Jiro was quite glum as he regarded the girl. “That’s... horrible."
   “Yes.” Yukina looked down at her lap, “ I couldn’t stay once I found out the truth about my brother.”
   What had the koorime done to Hiei as an infant? Suddenly Kurama really wanted to know, a strange stab of vicious anger rising in his heart for his old friend.
   “Right. Hiei?” Jiro asked. Yukina nodded, smiling.
   “And he’s a fire demon, right?” Jiro made sure to get his facts straight.
   “Yes.” Yukina said. “Like our father.”
   “Oh. Nice guy?” Jiro asked.
   “Our father?” Yukina asked, “I never knew him. He was frozen alive by my elders.”
   She looked down at her plate again. Jiro’s pleasant smile likewise froze on his face, and he looked apologetically at Shizuru who seemed on the verge of leaping across the patio table to strangle him.
   Yukina coughed, no doubt eager to change the subject.
   “... Hiei a nice guy?” Jiro offered softly.
   Yukina smiled, her eyes glazed over with slightest trace of tears. Kazuma was watching Yukina raptly now, observing her as she began to relax at the sound of Hiei’s name.
   “Yes,” Yukina whispered. “My brother is... very nice.”
   Kazuma said nothing to the contrary, watching her all the while.
~*~
   Doing the dishes was always Kazuma’s least favorite part of the meal, but still he got stuck with it as Kurama and Shizuru helped Jiro clean up outside. From the kitchen window he watched as his father once again begged Kurama to show him the rose whip. Kurama was laughing now, more at ease than he had been at first, and he conjured the whip yet again.
   His father extended a hand, though Kazuma could not hear what he was saying. Kurama looked down at his whip, only to pass the handle to his father.
   That would surely lead to nothing but trouble.

   “Kurama’s having fun now.”

   Kazuma looked around to see that Yukina had come to help him with the dishes. She took a drying towel in hand, clearing up the dishes he’d set aside to dry. The pair of them made quite an effective team, with Yukina familiarizing herself around their kitchen in the process.
   “Good. That’s my goal,” Kazuma murmured. “He needs more fun in his life."
   Yukina was watching him. She wanted to say something to him, but Kazuma already knew what it was.
   “... Kazuma...” Yukina murmured apologetically. Kazuma stopped her with a shake of his head. When he turned to look at Yukina though, he was momentarily thrown through a loop as he tried to imagine Hiei’s face in Yukina’s own. He’d thought at first that it would be incredibly difficult, that Hiei would be as foreign to Yukina as he would to any other girl.
   And yet, as he picture Hiei’s sharp and wild eyes in his mind, he remarked with great shock how they fit smoothly upon Yukina’s soft ones. Her pointed nose, her heart shaped face, her small ears and pale skin...
   She was so similar to Hiei it unnerved him. He could see it now, and he would never be able to unsee it.
   “... I look at you, and I see him,” he said, for he realized suddenly that he’d been staring at Yukina without remark. He didn’t want to seem rude. Yukina watched him, listening intently, “And it’s...” Kazuma looked back to the sink where warm soapy water caressed the few remaining dirty dishes. “It’s terrifying. After so many years of associating him with evil things, I see him in you; you’re one of the purest I’ve ever known.”
   Yukina did not seem soothed by his compliment as she continued to dry. If anything, her response was quite sharp.
   “Well, that was your first mistake,” Yukina warned, “My brother has never been an evil person. He’s a very good person who has had horrible things happen to him.”
   Maybe it was just the comment about her father being frozen by her elders, but Kazuma was starting to gather something truly horrific had happened to Hiei to make him the way he was.

   “I’m starting to understand that." He washed another plate and set it aside to dry.

   For a moment they were silent, but Yukina’s irritation was obvious as the temperature dropped a few degrees in the room. Suddenly the water in the sink was getting very cold.
   “Is it so difficult?” she managed to say, her voice quite tense, “To imagine him as good?”
   “No.” Kazuma murmured, and her tension dissipated at once, “Just... kind.”
   “Well, he is,” Yukina said softly, taking another dish from Kazuma to dry it. “And I love him... with every fiber of my being."
   Kazuma looked out the kitchen window. Kurama was showing Jiro how to throw the whip now though is father was having very little success.
   “I could never love someone who didn’t love him, too.”

   Kazuma knew what she was trying to say, and understood why it needed to be said. He’d pursued her so intently when he’d been younger, had thought himself the knight in shining armor. He'd failed to understand, to see, that there already was a knight in shining armor defending Yukina.

   Hiei was Yukina’s protector. Not even Shizuru could take that role.
   “I understand.” He even managed to smile a little bit as he continued to look out at Kurama.
   Yukina relaxed beside him. She splashed a small bit of water at him from the sink. He looked darkly at her, and splashed her back. She froze the drops before they hit her and the shards of ice fell at once to the floor.
~*~

   Kurama had been quite happy to go to dinner with Kazuma after spending a few days away getting his apartment ready for the upcoming move. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it in or so he felt. It shocked him to imagine that he would be moving into a new place, a place that he intended to make a home in... Thoughts of the future were filling his mind constantly now, putting a spring in his step when he walked.
   It made every moment more enjoyable, more relaxed, to imagine there might be more to follow.
   Currently Kurama lay upon the floor of Yusuke’s closed restaurant, looking up at the stars through the glass ceiling simply because Yusuke had said he wanted to. Keiko was in her pajamas again, eating cordial cherries from a small bar dish as Yusuke and Kazuma tried to make out shapes in the constellations.

   Happy times were made of these.
   “Fuck man...” Yusuke sighed, quite content. “I love these glass ceilings.”
   “That’s why I put them up,” Kazuma agreed. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
   “I can see every star in the sky,” Yusuke murmured.
   Kurama could not help but smile at this. “Yusuke, we’re in the city,” he reminded him kindly, “It's far too bright. Imagine if we were in the country instead... Somewhere green and wide, far from the lights. We could see everything, then.”

   Kazuma looked over at him, grinning upon the floor. Kurama felt his fingers suddenly become warm and filled as Kazuma took his hand in his own.

   “I like the way you think, baby," Kazuma murmured. Kurama flushed at the pet name, knowing Yusuke would make light of it.
   “Baby,” Yusuke snickered. Ah, how Kurama sometimes disliked his own intuition.
   “Don’t you dare,” Kazuma growled.
   “Baby, he’s calling you baby,” Yusuke snickered from Kurama’s other side. He suddenly felt an annoying finger begin to poke him in the side, “What do you call him?”
   “His name. Kazuma.” He hoped Yusuke would take the hint and drop it.
   “Yusuke, you have no room to talk,” Keiko dismissed him at once. Kurama smiled; Keiko to the rescue. He certainly enjoyed having her around in moments like this. “You call me everything under the sun.”
   “I wonder what Hiei calls Mukuro,” Yusuke suddenly said, struck by the thought and pondering on it.
   For a moment there was silence.
   “Mistress?" Kazuma joked slyly, “As in ‘Mistress, beat me harder’?”
   Kurama could not help it, a laugh exploded from him before he could stop himself. The idea of someone as wild and domineering as Hiei being forced to his knees by Mukuro and actually enjoying it simply tickled him.

   Yusuke was laughing too, the joyous sound bouncing around the empty restaurant’s glass walls.
   If Hiei could hear them now, he’d skin them alive.
   “Ah man, I love you,” Yusuke sighed dreamily.
   “I wonder where he is,” Kazuma said. “And if he’s okay.”
   Kurama squeezed his hand tightly.
   “He’s fine,” Kurama murmured. He believed this truly in his heart, or so he tried. “Hiei’s resilient, and Mukuro was probably overjoyed to see him alive.”
   “Think they’ll fight again?” Kazuma asked. He sounded slightly nervous.
   “Oh, most definitely,” Kurama said. “Hiei would die of boredom if they didn’t... but they love each other above everything else. That’s what matters in the end.”
   “Man, I bet they had wild makeup sex,” Yusuke joked. “Can you imagine? I bet shit falls off the walls.”
   Kazuma snickered.
   “I bet the bed bursts into flames. I bet people can hear it from miles away. I bet they don’t know whether it’s a fight or a fuck fest.”
   With every taunt, Kazuma just laughed harder.
   Kurama found none of it funny, simply because it was all probably true. “You and your imagination," he grumbled.
   Yusuke rolled over onto his elbows, stealing one of Keiko’s cherries to point at Kurama and Kazuma with the stem left over.
   “Speaking of which, have you two sucked each other’s dicks yet?”
   Kazuma was on his elbows as well in an instant, laughter long gone to be replaced by irate rage.
   “Urameshi!” he shouted angrily. Kurama looked up, still flat on his back. If he peeked as high as his eyes would allow, he could see Keiko watching them upon her back as well. Kurama could not help but laugh. They made quite a group.
   “What?!” Yusuke demanded, “I’m trying to help you get laid man!”
   “That ain’t-“ Kazuma gestured wildly, “That ain’t none of your damn business!”
   Yusuke just kept pushing. Keiko was looking at Kurama now, her neck in the same strained position as he. She did not look the least bit surprised that a fight was about to break out.
   “Yusuke, this is hardly the polite,” Kurama said tersely, preferring is penis to not be the topic of discussion, but Yusuke would not let it drop as he shot Kurama a warning glare.

   “Can it, rose bud!” Yusuke snapped. “This is between me and curly top!”

   And with that, he took to a knee to grab at Kazuma and force him all the way backwards and onto his back once more. The scuffle was so close to Keiko and Kurama that they were accidentally getting hit, and Keiko scooted way at once, making an irritated noise as she avoided the wild swings and kicks. Kurama just watched with dull interest, noting that when improperly motivated, neither fighter had good aim.
   They weren’t fighting to win, they were fighting to fight.
   “Why won’t you just suck it up and let him blow you? Why do you have to go the pace of a turtle! Do you know what kind of a gift you’ve been given!? If I had Kurama for a boyfriend, he wouldn’t be able to walk!” Yusuke roared, talking with every punch he threw. Kazuma was getting hammered in the chest, unable to do much but kick and flail. By this point in his fighting career, Kazuma was built like a tractor tire. Yusuke’s punches were merely bruising him, far from hurting. Still.
   “Shut up, Urameshi!” Kazuma screeched. “I’m sick of your nasty mouth!”
   “My nasty mouth is the reason you’re gonna get laid if you just shut up and listen to me!”
   “No, it isn’t!”
   “Yes, it is!"
   “No!”

   “Yes!”

   “No!”
   “Yes!”
   Across from Kurama, Keiko gave him a dull glare that Kurama happily returned.
   “I bet people can hear it from miles away,” Keiko said. “I bet they don’t know whether it’s a fight fest or a fuck fest.”
   Kurama shook his head. If only it were a joke.
~*~


   “I hate him,” Kazuma snapped as Kurama washed their tea kettle in the kitchen sink. “I hate him! I really do! He’s such a prick!”
   Bare-chested and freshly healed, Kazuma fumed as Kurama offered him a small smile. His shirt lay discarded across the table; Kurama had had to slightly undress him to heal where Yusuke had smacked him around.
   “Why did I choose him for a best friend?” Kazuma demanded.
   Kurama offered a coy comment in return: “Because you have excellent taste in men?”
   Kazuma caught the double meaning there, and grinned as Kurama winked at him over his shoulder. He set the kettle upside down to dry upon a dish towel before returning to Kazuma. Barefoot and lovely, Kurama’s shirt was undone to show tantalizing glimpses of his chest underneath. Kazuma was delightfully surprised when Kurama forwent his chair to sit instead on Kazuma’s lap. He crossed his legs, wrapping an arm about Kazuma’s neck to lay another hand warmly upon his chest. Kazuma delighted in the feel of Kurama’s cool fingers upon his flushed skin: the perfect balm to any wound.
   “Yusuke is just a rambunctious teenager at heart,” Kurama said, his eyes adoring upon Kazuma’s face. “He never grew up. You, on the other hand... are a man.”
   There was something about the way Kurama said that. It sent thrills all through his body.
   Kurama leaned in, and the kiss they then shared was sweet. Kurama tilted his face a little, and Kazuma’s hands drifted around Kurama’s back, holding him close as another hand spread wide upon Kurama’s hip. How he wanted to squeeze the flesh there, to feel it hot and pliant beneath his fingers...
   Kurama was looking at him in a strange way, loving and yet... mischievous?
   “Have you ever received fellatio?” Kurama asked, curious.
   “Fe- what?” Kazuma was thrown off, having no idea what fellatio even was.
   “Oral sex.”
   Kazuma’s heart flipped in his stomach, his breath suddenly seizing up again. This was not the kind of conversation he wanted to have with Kurama in his lap, his firm rear ever so close to Kazuma’s cock which suddenly throbbed in wild anticipation as if Kurama’s question was the invitation to a personal party. He needed to learn how to control himself, dammit, but Kurama was making that very hard to do with his hand upon Kazuma’s bare chest and his loving eyes staring deeply into his face.
   “Y-you mean like-“
   “Yes.”
   Kazuma let out a shaky breath. Would Kurama think him childish if he told the truth? He prayed not; he would not lie to Kurama even to save face.
   “Uhh... no.”

   Kurama chewed on his bottom lip, looking Kazuma up and down with that same mischievous grin that sent butterflies scattering in his body.
   “Would you like to try it?” Kurama asked.
   Fireworks exploded in Kazuma’s brain as his mouth went bone dry. He made a tirade of wild noises, flustered and gabbling as Kurama just continued to smile at him.
   Jesus fucking Christ, was this actually about to happen?
   “L-like right now?” Kazuma managed to stutter out.
   “Yes,” Kurama said, ever calm.
   Kazuma had no idea what to how to respond--
   Well actually, he knew quite well, but dammit, he couldn’t just...
   .... could he?
   Could he say it?
   “I mean... If you wanna.” Kazuma could not keep from smiling, suddenly grinning like a mad man as Kurama laughed a little under his breath. Kurama raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say ‘very well’, suddenly getting off Kazuma’s lap. Kazuma automatically made to rise up. But Kurama’s hand was still upon his chest, keeping him in his chair.
   “No,” he instructed. His expression was positively seductive – half-lidded and wet-lipped. “Stay there.”
   Kazuma would, for the rest of his life if necessary.

   Kurama dropped to his knees before Kazuma, smiling up at him. Kazuma’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as Kurama’s elegant hands reached for the zipper of his jeans where a prominent hot bulge was beginning to form.
   Kazuma did not know why, but he suddenly felt the urge to assure Kurama this wasn’t necessary.
   “Kurama, you don’t have to do this,” Kazuma blurted out as his brain screamed at him to just shut up and enjoy it. But Kurama smiled at him, a wicked grin upon his beautiful wet lips. “I swear, you don’t have to if you don’t-“
   Kurama reached up, index finger poised against Kazuma’s mouth. It shushed him instantly, his heart in his throat as Kurama answered softly:
   “I want to.”
   His hand trailed down slowly from Kazuma’s lips, down his throat and between his rippling pectorals, ghosting over his naval to land back once more upon the zipper of his jeans.
   Kurama’s smile was enchanting, almost distracting Kazuma from the cool sting as his aching manhood was released from the tight confines of his pants. He’d dreamed about this moment, wanted it for so long, that he could not help but groan and close his eyes at the realization that it was finally occurring. The visual confirmation of what was occurring was far too much for him to take; suddenly Kurama’s hand was upon him, cupping his heated flesh, squeezing ever so tenderly. The hands that held a whip with dexterity now held him with the same ease, thumb brushing lightly over the head of his arousal-
   Kazuma jumped a little, the stimulation wild.

   “Relax,” Kurama said softly. His sweet voice was the perfect antidote to Kazuma’s sore nerves, and he tried to do as he was told--
   He nearly jumped again, his eyes flying open as the feeling of something incredibly hot and wet enveloped him. He looked down, in awe of the sight before him.
   Kurama was between his spread legs, one hand around Kazuma’s cock, holding him firmly, the other hand upon his thigh, comforting and familiar upon the tensing muscles underneath. Kurama had descended upon him, his beautiful red hair spilling all over Kazuma’s jeans as his mouth enveloped the head of Kazuma’s arousal.
   It was almost too much for Kazuma to bear. Kurama’s slick tongue glided upon him, each stroke working to dissolve Kazuma’s already meager composure. Somehow, Kazuma’s trembling hand found itself buried in Kurama’s hair. He felt the silken strands between his fingertips. So soft, so incredibly soft...
But he knew this hair withheld weapons, so Kazuma held the back of Kurama’s head as gently and steadily as he could manage, even while every movement Kurama made caused Kazuma to shudder and quake.
Kurama’s green eyes were glazed over; he was completely concentrated on the task at hand.
   “...Wow...” the word slipped past Kazuma’s mouth. “Kurama, you’re so-“
   At the sound of his name, Kurama glanced up at Kazuma for one brief second, mouth full and eyes glittering with mischief. Then –
Kurama’s lips descended.
His mouth took Kazuma all the way, swallowing him before he could prepare himself. Kazuma groaned, reckless and guttural – and, as Kurama moved again, he could do nothing to stop the string of hungry, inhuman noises that tumbled from his mouth. He could not think; he could not speak; in fact, all he could do was grip Kurama’s hair tighter as the raw pleasure washed over him.
   Kazuma had never felt anything this good in his entire life.
Every languid movement of Kurama’s tongue, every jerk of his fingers still wrapped tight around the base of his cock, put Kazuma in such a state that he was certain even if Urameshi busted down the door right now and proclaimed an apocalypse was upon them he would not give one tenth of a damn.
Kazuma clutched desperately at Kurama’s hair with one hand and at the seat of his chair with the other, gasping as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was unable to look down anymore; he knew that if he did, the visual confirmation of what was occurring would be too much, and he could not handle it. He could hardly handle this as it was.
       Kazuma was shaking, he knew it, and he could do nothing to stop it, but Kurama’s free hand was suddenly snaking from his thigh to come around his back. Kurama held him close, stroking the spasming flesh beneath as if to say ‘I am here’.
If Kurama let go of him, Kazuma was sure that he would fall straight off his damn chair.
   He cried out again, his breath coming from him in ragged pants. “Holy shit!” he moaned aloud.
   Kurama’s mouth had become even more persistent, warm, wet, and unyielding. It begged him to let go of reality; the void was calling to him. He could hardly breathe.
   “Oh, Kurama,” Kazuma whispered the name like a prayer. He had never known such emotion could exist, had never contemplated such powerful feelings could be possible.
   Yet now, as Kurama labored upon his stiffened flesh, Kazuma knew that he was bound to Kurama in every way. He was a slave, on his knees for Kurama. A willing servant, wanting and waiting. All that Kurama asked for, Kazuma would give. He could not disobey, could not stray... not when Kurama had wrapped himself so tightly about Kazuma, spinning his beautiful vines till Kazuma was ensnared in a bubble of honeysuckle greens and vibrant red hair.
   He was trapped; oh, God help him, he was trapped. He was fucked. He was being blown out of this damn universe, and he couldn’t be happier about it.
   “Fucking God, I love you,” Kazuma choked out. Kurama made a noise as if he was amused, maybe tickled by how silly Kazuma sounded, a puddle of goo in his hands. Let him laugh, Kazuma couldn’t care less.
   Let him never stop laughing. Let his laughter become the sun of this paradise.
   But something was building within him, something hot and wild that with each throb warned him of an end. Kazuma knew he should say something to Kurama, should warn him, but he had lost the ability to speak now and could only gasp for breath. He knew what was about to happen, and he could not stop it. He could not delay it any longer. It was a fucking miracle he’d been able to hold on this long with Kurama dragging him around by the dick through a land of the gods.

   Kazuma gasped, his hands clenching tightly in Kurama’s hair as a hot wave rushed over him. God help him if Kurama didn’t swallow him entirely-
   Kazuma collapsed against the chair, completely unaware of the fact that he’d been sitting bolt upright all this time, gasping and heaving for breath as the cool sting of the kitchen air caressed his sex. He whimpered, unable to move or speak, barely able to even open his eyes.

   Kurama was smiling at him, perched upon the balls of his feet, his lips swollen.
   And suddenly he knew just what Kurama was capable of, with that sweet little smile and the glint in his eye. He could break Kazuma in two, as easily as he dared; yet he would not.
   He would not harm Kazuma when he could love him instead.

   “...Kazuma?” Kurama called out to him, smiling comically as Kazuma whimpered again. “Did I break you?”
   “... Go, team,” was all Kazuma could whisper, more of a squeak than a sentence. Kurama laughed aloud, touched by Kazuma’s shaken state.
   “I love you,” Kurama said.
   “I’m gonna... fuckin’... pass out in this chair,” Kazuma replied, quaking where he sat with a blissful smile upon his face.
   “I think you might be more comfortable in your bed,” Kurama murmured. He reached up, tucking Kazuma’s length gently back into his pants.
   “You think so?” he murmured as Kurama did up the zipper.
   Kurama was pulling at him, but Kazuma’s arms were like rubber. Still, he followed in an ape-like state, unable to deny Kurama anything he wanted as he staggered from the chair and followed Kurama out of the kitchen. The walk back to his bedroom was torturous and long, with every step sucking what little strength Kazuma had out of him.
   The darkness of his bedroom was inviting and cool, a deep chasm into which he fell as he collapsed onto his bed. He felt Kurama slipping down next to him, felt the warmth of his lithe body pressed against Kazuma’s own.
   Kazuma was already asleep.
~*~
   Yusuke Urameshi lay in bed, despite the fact that all his sheets were kicked off the bed. Naked and sated, sweating profusely, Keiko’s body beside him kept him warm. She was asleep, exhausted after their wild interlude. He ran a hand absently through her brown hair, reveling in the feel of the heat that lay at the apex of her thighs. Her gentle sin called to him, made him want to roll her over on her back and wake her up by eating her out just to hear her scream for him one more damn time.... but he wouldn’t.
   She needed to sleep. She had work tomorrow.
   His phone vibrated upon the bedside table, and Yusuke reached over lazily to pick it up wondering who the hell was texting him so close to midnight. Unless it was the end of the world, he wasn’t getting out of bed.
   And even then, he might eat Keiko out first just for the hell of it. The end of the world called for certain extravagances, after all.
   Instead, a text message from Kurama greeted him:
   “The deed is done,” was all it said, and at first Yusuke didn’t have a damn clue what he was talking about. But then, he slid a lazy eye over to Keiko at his side, and he understood.
   He grinned.
   “Congrats on the sex,” he texted back.

   Kuwabara had finally gotten his dick sucked. All was right with the world.
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Into the Gray