Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi

Gift fic for Adi88, who demanded: "Now I really, really want you to do a Kuwabara/Kurama, because where else am I going to find it so convincingly and classily done?" Not only did she demand, but 5 minutes later my subconscious was gracious enough to obey… and I used up an amusing plot-bunny. Yay!

It was originally in present tense… but typing it up, I suddenly decided that past tense would sound better. So hopefully there won't be any mistakes there; I apologize if I miss any.

Purr

Kurama had sacrificed much of his dignity in living in the human world.

In his first year of life alone there were enough humiliating pictures to make the typically composed fox blush. Kuwabara had often wondered how Shiori ever managed to preserve them from her son's hands.

It was not just his childhood, though. Once, everyone feared him. Some still did, of course, but most looked down on him for his despicable acts of kindness and human sentiment, despite the few who admired him. And yet, Kurama always retained a great sense of self-dignity.

It was after the battle with Sensui. Makai was rushing past them under Puu's broad wings, and they finally had time to think of other important things.

Yuusuke sat stubbornly at the base of Puu's neck looking stoic, but he was actually pensive. Koenma watched nearby and scrutinized him for any hint of his thoughts. Kurama's demon form was facing the scenery, graceful and impassive and confident as always, but with an added stiffness to his posture that testified the adrenaline had not worn off yet. Hiei was still passed out; Kuwabara had already poked him and customarily mocked him for being such a sissy. That imperative task done, he turned to his own neglected issues.

Like Kurama, for instance.

"So, can you just change into the fox demon whenever you want now?"

Kurama turned, his face unreadable. The cold eyes suited his legends better than his genuine laughter earlier had. "Well, perhaps not whenever I wish. But it is certainly an option now."

Curious, he thought, that Kuwabara was not actually focused on his face as he spoke. In fact, he appeared to be gazing into the distance behind Kurama. He followed the glance, but saw nothing.

It dawned on him then. Cats. Kuwabara loved cats, and Kurama's ears were perched atop his head and twitching in a decidedly catty manner. The boy's arm was half-raised, unconsciously, and his fingers flexed convulsively.

At first, Kurama did not duck his head because everyone else was occupied and he was not quite convinced Kuwabara would dare.

After that, his dignity could only reply that Kuwabara had taken advantage of him. Kurama ought to have known that, after having loved cats and owning one for years, Kuwabara would know all the sweet spots in petting such ears, and would exploit them like a skilled acupuncturist.

He melted in the same way Eikichi would, the stiffness draining out of his back. The adrenaline wore away too, until Kuwabara's fingers were tangled in thick red hair—and he pulled back, a matching shade, suddenly and violently aware of his actions.

There was no truly good excuse, Kurama realized, that would ever justify his dignity. So he would simply have to make certain that no one ever caught them.

And no one did.

…
Owari
…

-Windswift