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Kurama tried not to squirm against the ache in his limbs and the creaking of his ulna where the death plant held on with all its might. The bone was broken. Only a hairline fracture from the final tug to pull the roots loose that would heal sooner rather than later, but Yusuke had held his breath and his eyes went wide and Kurama could have picked the apologies straight from his brain, they were so clear and strong on his face.
It was sweet, Kurama mused. Not all together different from the gentle worry and prodding from his mother, though Yusuke’s hands were rougher, stronger. When his fingers traced along the edges of the wound, gaping and weeping blood and plasma still, the hairs stood on end like Kurama was standing in a lightning storm. Exciting and bold. Warm.
“I’m gonna wrap this, but it’ll need changed before morning,” Yusuke mumbled, his focus on the bandages in his hand. His tongue stuck out from behind his teeth and he squinted in concentration, winding the fabric around Kurama’s arm, slowly and with care.
“Why do you do this?” Kurama asked suddenly. He didn’t mean to ask, though they were words he’d thought many times before in the months since the hospital rooftop. They were usually followed with other questions, other thoughts and worries about the way Kurama’s face heated a bit when Yusuke looked his way. When he touched Kurama’s skin or held him around the waist when he was injured. When he called him inane names.
Childish, Kurama thought. It’d been centuries since he’d indulged like this and for good reason. It was dangerous. He was dangerous. But Shiori broke that streak, her pretty smile and soothing voice cracking the walls around his heart, and Yusuke…
Yusuke was certainly a wrecking ball, poised to demolish everything Kurama had built to keep himself safe.
“What d’ya mean?” Yusuke raised an eyebrow. His work was done and done well, but he stayed sat on the bed, legs crossed, looking at Kurama with genuine confusion.
“You take care of me.”
“No shit, someone has to.” Yusuke laughed. He pointed to Kurama’s stomach, then his arm and then poked him between the eyes. “You’re a goddamn sadist and you’re just lucky you have that freaky demon healing to save you.” He softened and leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed and a thoughtful, almost vulnerable look crossing his face. “I dunno, dude. You’re…”
A long pause. Yusuke scrunched his nose and furrowed his brow and Kurama waited with his breath held. The anticipation sat between them, accompanied by something like want that buzzed in Kurama’s veins, because Yusuke was mussed from his fight and from taking care of Kurama and…
Beautiful. Fuck.
“You’re you.” Yusuke finished. It’s was a useless thought. Yusuke didn't know who Kurama really was. It made him deflate, the hope that’d built up over time, ill-advised and out of his control, leaving him in a rush.
Kurama laughed softly, disbelievingly. “Well, of course. Though, I don’t think you truly know the me you’re choosing to spend so much energy on.”
Another pause. Yusuke looked at him intensely and Kurama held his gaze for as long as he could, but broke away with a heat rising in his cheeks and the pounding in his chest returning. Surreal, acting like a human. A teenage human at that. Yet, he relished the feeling. It was new and strange. It was terrifying.
“No, I know exactly who you are,” Yusuke said finally. He smiled softly. Uncharacteristic. A bit wild at the edges. He leaned forward into Kurama’s space, his breath a warmth against his cheek. A hand slid into Kurama’s and squeezed. “An idiot.”
Yusuke’s lips, like the rest of him, were surprisingly soft. He kissed slow at first, then his patience slipped and he pressed in, tongue along Kurama’s teeth, a low groan in his throat. Kurama ached in his limbs and in his chest and felt the flesh bruise where Yusuke nipped at him.
Yusuke pulled back, though his body screamed reluctance, annoyance, frustration. Kurama’s screamed back and he reached to remedy the problem.
“No.” Yusuke shook his head, grabbing Kurama’s hand and holding it between them. “Fuck, dude. Don’t make me be the responsible one.” He pointed to the bandage, barely a half an hour old, already stained red.
Kurama laughed. He laughed loud and held his stomach as it shook, then his arm when it twinged in pain. He laughed harder when Yusuke scowled and punched him in the other shoulder. He stopped when Yusuke cleared the bed and pulled them under the covers, holding Kurama against his chest.
It was strange, the way his heart beat louder and his body grew warm and his lips couldn’t stop the smile that made its home on his face.
A wrecking ball indeed, Kurama thought, laying a hand over his chest and the remains of the walls he'd built there. Hello, old friend.