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A damn shame he hates all forms of coffee. A damn shame. Because the beauty in front of him seems to love it, and talks about working in a corner of the groom's café most of the time.
"I know, I know, it's cliché." The man slumps over the bar, tugging lazily at his coiffed locks. "But the atmosphere helps me focus when I'm designing. Can't blame me."
"I don't know." Hiei knows his own face is doing the soft smile thing, the thing his sister teases him about, but he's had one too many drinks, and he can't quite bring himself to care. "It seems fairly heinous to me."
"Too, uh, heinous for you to dance with me?"
The hand he takes lights his skin on fire as he allows himself to be pulled into a quiet corner of the banquet hall, away from the gilded waltz the bride and groom are managing on the dance floor, where they just sway in each other's arms without prying eyes. They've only just met, but he wants.
"What's…" Large hands smooth his untamed hair away from his forehead.
Hiei gently tilts back. "An old hurt." He's not self-conscious about the scar. He just hates when people ask for the childhood horror story involving him, his father's coffee pot, and the week he spent in intensive care. He also hates drawing unnecessary attention to the mark because people just like to stare.
The gentle brush of lips against it makes him rethink his personal policy.
"We should do this again," he's whispering against his mouth some time later in the shadow of his room, gripping the back of this marvelous stranger's neck and dragging him down. Laughter boils over from debauched lips. The man tastes like coffee, undoubtedly a result of the tiramisu, but for the first time in a long time, Hiei finds it the most delightful flavor on his tongue.
"Number," the stranger mumbles into his neck afterwards. "We should exchange..."
"Later," Hiei hushes, stroking his hair away from his face. The man rolls closer to him, away from the mess they've made. He tucks his nose into Hiei's neck and promptly starts to doze off. He's not sure if he should find that endearing, or insulting. When he goes to the bathroom and flicks on the light, he takes one look back at the man's face and decides, endearing. Certainly endearing.
"Don't go," Red mumbles in his sleepy daze, pawing at the sheets.
"I haven't left," Hiei laughs softly, returning swiftly with a wet cloth to clean him up. He kisses him, and they nestle together like they were made for it, and it's the best sleep of his life.
When he wakes up, there's a note on the pillow next to him, promising coffee and bagels upon the stranger's return. Hiei grimaces at the thought of even taking in a drop of that devilish brew, but his heart swells, so he sets about cleaning himself up for another round – or two, or three.
A few hours go by, though, and his stranger never comes back.
He calls Kurama, throwing his clothes into his suitcase. "Last time you convince me to attend a destination wedding."
"Something wrong?"
"No," he snarls, and spills a minute later when Kurama says nothing.
"Oh."
Hiei stills. That's not a good "oh". That's a pity "oh".
"He – the man you met, he, ah…there was an accident."
His heart nearly stops, but—
"He's alright, just slipped on some ice, nearly cracked his skull open—"
"Do you know the definition of 'alright'?"
"He's fine, Hiei. We took him to the hospital, mild concussion, a few stitches, he's alright."
"Then why do you still sound like you're trying to be cautious with me?"
The silence is unnerving. "He…he's forgotten a few things. From yesterday. He remembers the ceremony, but not the reception. We all thought there were worse things to forget, but now that you've told me…well, I'm sorry, I don't think he…"
Hiei scrubs his face, but doesn't hang up, much as his twitching fingers want to.
"Of course, Yusuke and I will be happy to tell him—"
"No." He sinks down onto the bed. "No, don't bother. I'll do it myself."
"You?"
"Yes, me, what do you mean 'you'?"
They've moved on. The situation isn't dire anymore, if Kurama's laughter is anything to go by. "It's just, you have a habit of, well, not being the type to…communicate. About anything."
He bares his teeth in what he's sure is a horrifying grin. "Is that a challenge."
"Oh, god, Hiei, no, it wasn't. Just remember that this is another human being. Please."
He lets the expression go. "Kurama."
His friend makes a little noise. "Goodness. You're serious. Last night went that well?"
Now he hangs up.
There's a reason no one wants him manning the register. There. Is. A. Reason. Reasons like this, when the customers watch him warily, like he's about to reach across the counter and jab a coffee stirrer in their eye. He's thought about it, sure. A lot. Every damn day. But he's never acted on it, and that's what separates men from beasts.
He just has one of those faces, so Yusuke usually (wisely) decides, when he makes up the schedule for next week, that Hiei is not be allowed to stand behind the register and look customers in the eye, lest they be turned to stone. Or worse. Much, much worse.
Granted, the big incident from last month was necessary, because they were being assholes, harassing Botan like that. Not that he cares for the woman or anything. (He's fond of her, though he'll never say.) Hiei likes to argue, in fact, that all the incidents that occur are necessary. Except for last week. Last week, he was just having a bad day.
And that is why Yusuke doesn't put him behind the register.
Still. Still.
There is one thing that he doesn't mind about this job. One thing that makes up for all the unfortunate souls he has the displeasure of taking money from.
That one thing comes in the form of a handsome, obnoxious, adorable, oblivious, kindhearted fool who likes to sit in a corner nook and design buildings.
And that is why Yusuke occasionally puts him behind the register now.
Despite Hiei's griping, he acknowledges that Yusuke is a good boss, and Keiko makes coffee like no other.
"Oh, yeah, it's insane how we met," Yusuke likes to tell any customer willing to listen – and most of them usually are willing. The man has a way about him. It's infuriating. "I just thought she was the prettiest chick I'd seen in my life, so I caught her outside of her parents' shop before class and said, 'Hey there, brewtiful. How's it goin'?' And she poured her iced coffee all over me and laughed in my face."
"Love at first sight," Keiko likes to deadpan as she carefully lays out another masterful cup of latté art. But when she finishes and lifts her head, her cheeks are always flushed with pleasure, and Yusuke just grins and shrugs in that helpless way of his because he's just too damn besotted.
Hiei wishes they weren't so nauseatingly adorable. Unfortunately, wishing gets him jack shit these days. They've always been that way. Yusuke, the ambitious little shit, opened the corner café, established his reign in the neighborhood for a good year, and then married his high school sweetheart. Hiei remembers that wedding too well, though he hadn't been completely integrated into their little group yet.
The only reason he was invited to the wedding was because Yusuke took a shine to him way back when he stopped by his and Kurama's apartment to do business with Yomi. The man had been insufferable, ignoring Hiei's constant get out of my house stare, and had chatted away with that equally insufferable blind bastard about having a friend from the firm design the café.
But that night – oh, how it had ruined him.
"Who," he hisses to Kurama as the newlyweds cut the cake.
"Who?" Kurama replies absentmindedly, making eyes at Yomi from across the room, even though the uppity bastard can't even see him.
Hiei jerks his head towards the tall drink of water with the red hair, and Kurama just gives him a very unimpressed look.
"The best man? He gave a speech not even thirty minutes ago, honestly, Hiei."
"Weddings are drivel, do you know his name, do you know his number."
Kurama knows both, but refuses to tell him. "He goes to the café every single day."
"Ah, yes, the little shop of horror that I refuse to step foot in, how could I have missed him?"
"It's not like we're asking you to actually drink anything – oh, stop with the face. It wouldn't kill you to spend time with your friends."
"Yusuke is not my—"
"Just – keep an eye out for him next time you go there."
"I've never been there, you impossible fool. I hate coffee."
Kurama, the useless ass, shrugs and goes to get cake. Or drag Yomi off to the coat room, whichever.
Hiei has another flute of champagne, and another, and another, because he hates talking to most people anyway, and at last goes to speak with the beautiful stranger at the bar.
It goes downhill from there. Or rather, it rockets uphill, and suddenly drops off a cliff when he wakes up to the mussed, painfully empty sheets of his hotel room, finds a note of promise, and sits there like an idiot until Kurama tells him what happened.
And that, Hiei likes to bemoan to himself, was how he wound up working with the concoction he hates the most.
Hiei grills Kurama for information on the man – Kazuma Kuwabara, he learns.
He marches down to the café after a week of wrestling with his conscience – namely, the conscience which urges him to just avoid all things that irk him or aren't worth his time – to demand a job.
The position is already waiting for him.
Yusuke just gives him a leery grin over the counter, one that is far too knowing for his liking. It's followed by a very approving look, which is…less unpleasant, because it probably means he has a new ally drafted into his cause of romancing a man he's met once.
"Kurama called this morning, said you finally left the apartment to do something drastic."
"That man lies." He does have some pride, after all. He needs to try to salvage just a bit of dignity.
Yusuke seems to know this, because he bobs his head. "Right, of course. You just need the extra cash, right?"
Oh, a true ally. "It's not a bad idea."
"Absolutely. A little spending money is always nice when you take someone out on a date."
His eyes narrow. "I suppose."
"Only the best for someone you like."
"…In theory."
Yusuke cuts the crap and leans over the counter. "He likes iced coffee and frappés, even in the winter. Don't get on his case about it, or he'll never shut up. You start tomorrow; I'll show you how to make his favorites myself. Impossible to screw up, but with what Kurama's told me about how you duked it out with his Keurig last month, I'd say nothing's impossible. And you won't be working any shifts when he's usually around."
There's honestly no point in pretending anymore, but he can at least seethe with silent rage and make extensive plans to string Kurama up by his pretty locks until he cries. "And why, pray tell," he grits, "are you barring me from seeing him?"
"Gotta vet you." The man's grin is positively cutthroat. "Can't let just anyone date my best friend, after all, one night stand aside."
A chance meeting at the library after a solid month without a glimpse, and one simple touch is all it takes to stoke his affection.
Ridiculous.
He's reaching for a book, but comes up short, and then long, graceful fingers are sliding over the spine and dragging it down for him.
"This one?" his joy asks.
Hiei, awestruck for no fucking reason, nods, not trusting himself to speak because he's here.
The man grins, bobs his head, and hands over the book, some silly fantasy romance with a bejeweled princess on the cover. "Cool. It's a great read. You'll enjoy it."
"It's for my sister," he manages.
"Maybe you should give it a shot after her, then," Kuwabara advises.
Hiei makes a noncommittal noise and waits. And his heart sinks, because Kuwabara still doesn't remember him. He steps back. "Well. I'll be sure to let her know the book comes with high praise."
Kuwbara grins and jaunts down the aisle.
Hiei exhales quietly, "Beautiful."
Kuwabara stops. Looks back, eyebrows raised. Slowly, ever so slowly, a delicious pink consumes his face. "Huh?"
Hiei wants to stare at that lovely shade for a year and a day, and an eternity after that, but then he realizes what he thinks he said. (What he absolutely said.) He clears his throat, casts his gaze to the shelves. "The café. Two blocks down. It's called Brewtiful." Thank god for that.
"Oh. Oh! Okay, see, 'cause I thought – well, never mind, but why're you—"
"We need more customers. Come. Have a drink." He pauses. "First one's on me."
The man laughs, and Hiei hears the final nails being pounded into his coffin. "I'm actually a regular. You're new there?"
He knows that he's a regular, but he can't let him know he knows. He just nods.
"See, man, I knew I recognized you. I get this feeling I know you from somewhere else too, but I dunno."
"No." Yes, yes, yes.
"Okay…? Well." He grins at him. He grins at him. "I'll say hi next time."
It takes a lot of threatening, but Yusuke finally lets him take shifts that Kuwabara is present for.
Kuwabara, now seeing him regularly and not in passing as he's exiting through the alley door, says hi. Always.
"Hiei!"
The booming voice of an angel. He bends to the side to see around the customer, and gives a small nod to the gentle giant at the door.
"Oh, god in heaven, get your cameras ready," Botan mutters.
He whirls on her. "Not a word, witch."
Naturally, she ignores his warning, and shows him that she already has Snapchat open. Fuck her, then. He turns back to the register and tries to get through the next few customers with minimal abrasiveness. (He does not succeed.)
"You're looking awfully chipper for someone who was so certain he wasn't going to come up with a quality design yesterday," is his greeting to the wondrous creature when he reaches the counter.
Kuwabara just laughs, unfazed by his lack of manners. "Well, I had a breakthrough yesterday, so joke's on you. Honestly, you must've put something in my drink, because it jumpstarted my brain. When I present my layout to the boss man next week, I think it'll go through."
Hiei hadn't done anything to that drink, save remind himself that he was making it for the light of his life, the reason he woke up in the morning and refrained from stabbing patrons who ordered anything with a Starbucks name, because this wasn't Starbucks, those fucking pretentious fucks. "Even a blind squirrel—"
"Kuwabara," Yusuke sings, kicking the backs of Hiei's knees so he sinks like a stone. "Word on the street is that Yukina was looking for you at the last get-together. Guess she heard you wanted to talk to her about that thing."
Kuwabara flushes, and resolutely keeps his eyes fixed on his best friend.
Hiei searches for something to stab Yusuke with, but the coffee stirrers are at the other end of the counter, and Yusuke would be too fast.
"If you're messing with me—"
"I swear," Yusuke, the utter bastard, insists, pointedly ignoring Hiei, who has settled for kicking his shin. "She said she had some important information for you."
The facts Hiei has are limited. What he does know is that his own traitor of a sister was the apple of Kuwabara's eye a long time before. What he does know is that Kuwabara doesn't know Hiei is related to that traitorous sister, who likes to tease him about his hopeless crush whenever he stops by the animal shelter she volunteers at. What he does know is that he's fucked.
Kuwabara coughs, eyes darting to Hiei. "Don't mess with me now, I don't have time to kick your ass. I have work to do."
"I can take your order—"
"Don't you have books to balance or something?" Hiei snarls, shoving Yusuke out of the way. The wretch cackles and disappears into the back. "Really, though. Do you plan to order?"
Kuwabara squints up at the menu, but orders one of the same drinks he always does. Hiei dutifully writes his name on the cup and sends him along. It's a mercy that there are no other customers at the moment, because he needs a minute to quell his traitorous heart and make Kuwabara's drink with his own quivering hands.
"You," he snarls, "are going to approve Kazuma Kuwabara's pitch, or I will gut you with a paring knife."
"Hiei," Kurama chides.
Yomi kisses his boyfriend's hand and smirks in Hiei's general direction. Hiei inches out of his line of focus, just to make him look like an idiot. Kurama shakes his head. "Nothing to fear, Hiei. His projects are always delightful. Though I'm surprised you're taking such an interest in one of my employees..." His eyebrows go up. "Oh. So Kuwabara is the one you're holding a flame for?"
Hiei gives Kurama a nasty glare.
His roommate doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "It makes for fun conversation. And there's a bet going around our circle."
Hiei takes his dinner to the living room, chased by their laughter.
He knows this little…infatuation of his is out of control. Sometimes he can't even call him by his name. In his head, he just thinks, Red.
Red for his hair, a blazing flame, red for his cheeks when he comes in from the cold, red for the blood in Hiei's simpering veins that sing whenever he glimpses something that reminds him of his favorite customer.
"Kill me," he always demands of Kurama when he slinks back to their apartment after a lengthy shift.
His supposed best friend always smiles and replies, "Would that it were so simple."
Kuwabara is sucking on a pen, and Hiei wants to march over to his little study nook he claims for himself on Wednesdays and rip it right out of his mouth. Give him something else to suck on – no.
"Goddamn distraction," he snarls into his arm, slumped against the counter.
"You've got a problem," Yusuke sighs. "I thought you were going to tell him, but this is just sad."
Hiei flicks a coffee bean at him and makes a few more drinks when called upon, but he ultimately winds up staring at Kazuma and his distracting mouth again.
Honestly, he should know better than to allow his thoughts to wander while on the job, especially while working with this demon of a machine, because he has this really visceral fantasy going on his mind – that goddamn mouth – and the steam hits his hand for a split second, and he drops the milk, knocks over a coffee pot, and the sound of the glass makes his heart seize, and motherfucker it hurts.
He doesn't have a moment to think about it before someone shoves him into the kitchen and thrusts his hand under an icy stream of water, much to his relief. He sags back against his "savior" – if they could be called that, it was just a little steam, even if it burned like a bitch.
"You alright?"
Well. Not anymore.
He turns to fix Kuwabara with his most haughty look. "Perils of the job."
He snorts. "Yeah, alright, man, whatever you say." He hasn't let go of his wrist yet. "Don't worry about the coffee, Urameshi can make more."
"I could give a flying fuck about anything generated by the coffee bean," he mutters.
There's an odd silence from above. He glances up, and finds Kuwabara staring at him. "Uh. Why do you work in a coffee shop then?"
His head snaps down so the scarlet working its way across his cheeks isn't visible. "Why, indeed."
It's like the touch on his wrist gentles. "Maybe, we, uh. Maybe we're the reason then, yeah? Your friends?"
Hiei shrugs, still not looking up.
There's a snort, and a breath of air rustling his hair. "Yeah, let's go with that." His thumb is rubbing circles on the back of his hand.
With a shuddering exhale, Hiei murmurs, "Of course. Let's go with that."
He's here for his sister, not for Kuwabara. Not for Kuwabara. Not for—
"Hiei!"
He pauses mid-scratch. "Kuwabara." The cat he's bent over head-butts his hand for more attention. He complies. "Small world."
"No kidding! You thinking of volunteering?"
He casually glances over, and chokes on his own saliva. The man is positively drenched, wet fabric clinging to his skin, detailing ever curve of his body, and Hiei thinks that this is how he dies.
"Why are you wet?" he manages to say without sounding like a dying horse.
"Oh! Bath day for some of the dogs." He grins. "So, volunteer? Maybe? We could use a hand around here."
Yukina finds them an hour later, soaked to the bone, surrounded by five wriggling hounds of hell. Hiei tries to communicate telepathically with her to keep her mouth shut about their family ties, but he has nothing to worry about. She seems more interested in taking pictures.
"To put up on the website," she says, while the look she gives Hiei behind Kuwabara's back says, For blackmail.
"It's symbolic!"
"It's drivel," Hiei snaps. "Placing such an obscure hint in a chunk of text that you know the readers will skim over at best is idiotic."
Kuwabara clutches the novel to his chest like it's a newborn babe. "You just can't appreciate good writing."
"I certainly can. Show me good writing, and I'll appreciate it."
Kuwabara thrusts the book in his face, giving him a good eyeful of the minimalist symbol stamped on the front. "This is good writing! Every reference made in the beginning of each book winds up in the next book, and—"
Hiei turns his nose up, because he just doesn't know when not to act like a piece of shit.
"I think he's really getting mixed signals here," Botan drawls when Kuwabara storms off, his face flushed from the heat of verbal sparring. "If you're going to do something about it—"
"In my own time," he snaps, scrubbing the counter.
She purses her lips and leaves him alone.
He buys a copy of the book later that night and hates that he understands why Kuwabara loves it too.
"Is…is it a bear?"
Hiei flushes. "It's a diamond. Obviously."
"Obviously," Kuwabara splutters, drumming his fingers along the side of the mug. "Why are you giving me a bear-diamond?"
Hiei tempers his glare.
Kuwabara takes another look at the latté art, clumsily crafted by Hiei's unpracticed hands, and his nervous tick ceases. "Oh, geez," he says softly. "It's the symbol from the front of the book." His head snaps up. "Did you read it?"
That tile beneath his shoe is mighty interesting. "I skimmed the first one." And the rest of the series.
The gentlest of touches on his wrist. "Did you like it, at least? You'd never given it a try before, and—"
Hiei rolls his eyes. "It wasn't terrible."
Instead of laughing like he clearly wants to, he clears his throat and says shyly, "Did you maybe wanna talk about it? Or anything, really?"
You, Hiei thinks. "The presented concept of utopia was intriguing, but ultimately reminded me why it was fiction," he says instead, taking a seat.
"Aw, man." Kuwabara grins. "Short stack's bringing out the big guns. Yeah, everyone was so gung ho about how it could work in the book, but I think a perfect society is impossible to achieve."
Hiei thinks that if society consisted of just the two of them, it would be flawless. Instead, he says, "At last, we agree on something."
He reads anything Kuwabara recommends, and anything that Kuwabara recommends to his sister, just so that he'll have something to discuss with him later.
The man clearly still has no memory of him, nor does he know that he's related to Yukina too. Hiei hopes to keep that part secret for a long, long time.
"On the house."
Kuwabara's eyes soften. "C'mon, man."
"It'll just go stale. Yusuke always makes too many, and you're the only one who likes this shit." Lie. Hardcore lie. They always have a surplus of strawberry shortcake, yes, but only because Hiei demands that they do. He tells Yusuke to take it out of his check, but Yusuke refuses, seeming more than happy to fuel his little crush.
The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, or so he's been told. He's trying.
"You, uh."
He pauses in his retreat.
"You wanna share with me?"
He hesitates. "I'm—"
"On break!" Yusuke howls. "Eat the fucking cake!"
Kuwabara grins and nudges the chair across from him with his foot, a gesture that is becoming very familiar. "C'mon. You're gonna make me fat with all this stuff."
"You're the one who insists on consuming it," Hiei sniffs, perching on the edge of the seat. He feels the man's foot against his own and struggles to keep his breathing in check. "And one could hardly call someone with your physique 'fat'," he mutters.
Kuwabara chokes. Hiei freezes and wonders if it's too late to boil his brain with the milk steamer.
Thankfully, the blessed man clears his throat awkwardly and replies, "You're the one who keeps making it free. What am I supposed to do, say no?"
Hiei jerks back.
Kuwabara's foot presses against his calf, a quiet apology. His stormy eyes are bright. Warm. "Hey. Dude. It's not like I mind. I'm all for free food. But I wouldn't mind paying. You're an okay guy, spoiling me like this."
Hiei kicks him and picks up the fork. He keeps his head down until he's sure his cheeks are no longer pink.
"I think it's sweet."
Hiei sneers.
"Don't make that face," Kurama scolds. "It'll stick that way."
"The way I see it, it might be an improvement," Yomi chuckles.
Hiei wants to make a remark so badly, but Kurama has tossed him out before for making blind jokes, so instead, he throws a pillow. It hits its mark; Yomi splutters.
"Play nice," Kurama warns.
"It's my apartment too."
Yomi brushes away imaginary lint. "I'm merely suggesting that perhaps you should cease your pining and make something of it."
"I’m merely suggesting that perhaps you should shut your mouth."
"Hear me out." He accepts the cup of tea from Kurama with a kiss. Hiei gags. "Valentine's Day is approaching. Perhaps you might—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
Yomi leans against Kurama, a plea for support. Mercifully, Kurama pats his hand and stays quiet.
There's an odd trepidation he feels when he goes into work sometimes. He and Yukina have never wanted for anything. Their parents were ridiculously well off, so when they died and passed their fortune on to them, there was never any need to join the workforce. He helps Kurama out with rent in their apartment just for the novelty of it. He likes the quaint little thing; sue him.
Here at work, though, among the commoners – "Don't call them that if you want tips," Kurama had warned – he finds himself wondering what it must be like, living their silly little lives, scuttling from one paycheck to the next. He shudders to think of what he might do if he were forced to live like that without the massive security net thrown over him.
"Hiei?"
He looks up. It's dark out, and he's the only one left. Well. Him and Kuwabara.
Kuwabara grins. "Yeah, Urameshi slipped out ten minutes ago. Said you should close up for the learning experience."
Hiei closes his eyes. "I'll kill him."
"You've got some serious homicidal tendencies, little man." Kuwabara cocks his head. "Want some help?"
So they set about closing up shop, wiping down tables and that wretched espresso machine, putting up chairs, drawing the blinds. And they talk. About Kuwabara's work as an architect, and Hiei's work as…well, a barista, he supposes.
"You've seriously never had another job?"
He stiffens. "Never seen a need for one."
Kuwabara whistles. "Damn. Must be nice."
"Boring, most days. It isn't often one has a fortune thrust upon them overnight."
His heart sinks when Kuwabara flinches. "Right. I, uh, heard about your parents. Sorry. Didn't mean to…"
Flicking off the lights, Hiei gathers his things and weaves through the tables to the front door. "It doesn't matter."
"But I-"
He's bold enough to lay a hand on Kuwabara's arm. "It doesn't matter," he repeats, softer this time. "Truly."
Kuwabara's sigh is hot against his cheek. "I guess." His brow furrows. "What's…that?"
"What's—"
A warm hand is pushing his hair away from his forehead. "You've got a scar?"
Hiei regretfully pushes his hands away. "What of it?"
"Well, it's just that…" He looks down; Hiei feels his breath catch in his throat. "Did you go to the Urameshis' wedding?"
Oh.
"Because," he continues without waiting for a response, "see, my memory's a little fuzzy, but I think I met this guy that night, and…and I never got his name or his number, but I do remember—" he swallows, "a scar. Kurama mentioned that you had an accident when you were a kid. It sounded pretty bad, but I never thought about it until…"
"He exaggerated, I'm sure."
Kuwabara grasps his hands. "So it…it was you."
He looks down. "I suppose it was."
"I'm sorry."
"For winding up in the hospital? Heavens, you're stupid." He curses his surly nature when Kuwabara's face falls. "Suffice to say, though, that it wasn't a…horrible evening. Before you…"
"Went and cracked my skull open?" His eyes are so dark.
"Hm, yes, that." He wants to touch him more, but part of him knows that a bit of wooing would be more appropriate for a change. He gestures to the door. "Shall we?"
Surprised, Kuwabara follows him into the night, waiting patiently for him to lock the door. "Guess I'll just head home. Night, Hiei."
He inclines his head. "Good night, Kuwabara."
The smile is gentle, and everything he hoped for. "C'mon, man. Call me Kazuma."
Maybe he could do this. He could do a…a symbol.
Kuwabara – Kazuma – appreciates symbols, right? He reads all that horrible, "symbolic" literature, after all.
For the next week, trying his best not to say a word, he leaves little clues from Kazuma's favorite books around the coffee shop. They go unnoticed. So he tries to make more latté art. It ends up looking like shit.
And all the while, Kazuma seems to grow quieter and quieter, first looking like he's waiting for something, and then looking like he's resigned himself to whatever hand he's been dealt.
Hiei tries to cheer him up with the symbols, the gestures, but it doesn't seem to be registering. That, or maybe Kazuma just doesn’t want to acknowledge them, because someone as intelligent as he has to know, doesn't he? He has to know Hiei's trying to be meaningful for once in his life. Because Hiei is not a meaningful person. He's jaded and abrasive, and he usually prefers the one-and-done kind of fuck.
But that night…he doesn't know why. Perhaps he'd grown addicted with that one taste, and maybe he'd have come back for another fuck, but these past few months he's spent getting to know Kazuma – the real Kazuma, not just the smart guy with the pretty face – it's been…
Kurama gives him these pitying smiles nowadays that make him want to tear his hair out, or weep.
Mostly, he just says nothing.
"Enjoy," he mutters, putting the cup down.
Kazuma, after having his head down all day, finally glances up from his computer screen, that damn pen lodged firmly between his teeth. "No cake?"
Hiei shuffles to the display case, but Kazuma catches his hand with a laugh and kicks out a chair. "C'mon, Hiei, I was kidding! Sit with me, take a break for once." His visage grows desperate. "Please?"
His skin burns from the contact. He wants to sink into it.
"It seems I take one too many breaks," he mutters, flashing an apprehensive glance Yusuke's way. Either the man doesn't notice them, or he's actively ignoring them. Probably the latter. He sits and waits for Kazuma to take a sip.
Kazuma pulls back from the cup and grins. "Hot chocolate, huh? What's the occasion?"
"Why need there be an occasion?" Hiei drawls, instead of reminding him that it's Valentine's Day, for god's sake, and this is the last symbol he's going to give him.
Kazuma gives him a look, and they don't break eye contact for a good minute. Hiei thinks he's going to get it, but he just makes a face and goes back work.
Hiei returns to his post and resolutely stares out the window. Fucking Yomi and his fucking ideas. Damn him to the furthest circle of hell. He waits for the secondary reaction to follow, but it never comes. He glances over and finds Kazuma bent over his work again, the cup a few inches away.
Either he doesn't see the phone number hesitantly penned on the side, or he's actively ignoring it.
Probably the latter.
Hiei swallows and makes a break for it before it's too late.
"You're a dumbass."
He flicks Yusuke off and carries on rearranging the store room.
"Hiei. Hiei."
"Will you just—" He bites his cheek and exhales. "Just leave me in peace."
So he does.
Kazuma vanishes for a few days. And then a week. Two. Three. No sign of him.
To be fair, Hiei has been taking the night shift, when he's never there, so.
The unmarked package is suspicious, but he's been feeling miserable, so maybe some unexpected, potentially dangerous surprise could brighten his mood.
He opens it up and finds a wrapped gift, bright red and covered in hearts.
For once, Botan doesn't tease him.
He almost doesn't open it further. Almost.
Chocolate. A shit-ton of chocolate. And a card that he doesn’t bother reading, because at that moment, a giant bear walks into the café.
No. A giant stuffed bear is shoved through the door and set against a table. The scattered patrons admire the monstrosity, and Hiei wonders which miserable wench is receiving that for White Day.
Kazuma pops his head around the beast, gasping.
Hiei ducks. If that thing is for his sister, he is going straight home, he swears.
"Hiei!"
No, no, no—
Yusuke hauls him up by the collar and presents him to his foil. "Get on with it."
Kazuma looks nervous. Like he - "I should've, uh – shit. Go out with me?"
Hiei stares. "What."
"You – a few weeks ago, you gave me hot chocolate. It was supposed to be like a – a symbol, a Valentine's thing, right? I usually forget about it because no one's ever…I've never had someone to celebrate it with and I just didn't think you'd – and later, I didn't get why you switched up our routine until – look, I'm slow, okay, and I didn't realize…" He pales. "Unless you didn't mean it like that. Yukina said she was sure you did, but I guess she misunderstood – I misunderstood—"
"Yukina?" he croaks.
Kazuma pauses. "Your sister? Said you…I mean, she thought you…I thought you might…like me? Because, look, I suck at recognizing symbols in real life. And you, well, you really suck at just communicating. But I was trying to, you know, get you to notice me before I even remembered who you are, and I guess I didn't do that great of a job, but listen, man, I totally get it if you aren't—"
"I should think the phone number I wrote on the cup made my intentions clear," Hiei says quietly. Kazuma looks like he has no idea what he's talking about, which probably means – "You didn't see it, did you."
Kazuma groans. "Hiei."
Hiei glances at the bear with the strong desire to burn it, and cherish it until he dies. "You asked me a question earlier?"
"You and me. Uh. No coffee." He gestures around them. "Since we, uh. Do that a lot. And. You know. You hate it."
Hiei leans across the counter, only to be hauled back by Yusuke. "No contaminating my clean surface with whatever nasty stuff you're about to do."
After elbowing him in the kidneys, Hiei slips out from behind the register and reaches for his lovely prize, who reaches back, grinning with relief.
"This is a yes, right?" is what Kazuma whispers, before they kiss. "Not, like, symbolism for something, is it?"
"Kazuma." Hiei trails a finger along his jaw. "I fucking hate symbolism."
He sinks into his embrace, swallowing his laughter with his mouth, and maybe the patrons are cheering, the nosy pests, but he doesn't quite care about that, because what wonder. "Excellent," he murmurs when they pull back.
"Think so?" Kazuma rasps, dazed.
"Might need a few more to pass judgement."
"Can do, brewtiful."
"I will slap you."
"No kinky shit until the fifth date," Yusuke sings.
Hiei buries his face in Kazuma's chest and groans while his horrible manchild of a boss has a fit of laughter against that counter he just cleaned. Keiko coos, and Botan takes pictures, and Kazuma's mouth tastes like fucking coffee, just like last time, but he doesn't give a shit.
Coffee has never tasted so wonderful.