|Boy's Night In
Author: the blanket PM
[oneshot, a pinch of H x B] Yuusuke, Hiei, Kuwabara, Kurama and Koenma enjoy a Boy's Night In, obnoxious capitalization intended.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Words: 508 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 5 - Published: 07-20-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3055691
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Boy's Night In
Pairing: Hiei x Botan; if you squint hard enough.
Words: 400. Regression tastes a lot like pineapples.
Warnings: wildly OOC for Hiei, crack!ficcy.
Summary: It was a Boy's Night In, obnoxious capitalization intended.
Standard disclaimers apply. Yuu Yuu Hakusho is totally not mine.
That was the first thing one would have noticed if one had walked into the apartment of one Urameshi Yuusuke, Spirit Detective and ass-kicker extraordinaire.
It was a Boy's Night In, obnoxious capitalization intended. Kuwabara Kazuma, Minamino Shuuichi, Hiei and Koenma sat around the green felt table, smoking cigars and drinking hard liquor without the ice. Topics of conversation changed from the latest case—
—hell of a back-breaker Koenma—
to Kurama's job
—really, it wasn't the client as much as it was his propensity for cross-dressing—
—nut jobs, every one of 'em!—
—heck yeah Urameshi—
—only just got Ayame to let me come tonight—
—Shizuru's been acting oddly as well—
Because they were Men and that's what Men did.
Hiei merely listened, the seven glasses of demon mead—diluted of course, he wasn't suicidal—he had brought back from the Makai, finally catching up with him. Usually, he didn't over-indulge in spirits, but he rarely found time to relax between patrolling Mukuro's borders and training. He should be allowed to spoil himself, if only for a night.
Better than painting my toenails inane colors like certain ferry girls I know.
Hiei sniffed delicately.
Not to say that he wouldn't seriously consider that sort of self-mutilation when he came to the next morning clad only in—
He swayed slightly as he walked to where the rest of the Manly Men were currently talking about something—someone? — called PMS. From the way the Yuusuke's knees were knocking, Hiei would have to guess that the demon "PMS" was not to be taken lightly.
Hiei watched, giggling slightly—God, that liquor's strong— as Yuusuke hit Kuwabara for one too many insinuations about the latter's manhood.
It was going to be a long night.
When the sun rose the next morning, it found Kuwabara and Yuusuke on the floor of his apartment, mouths open, making enough noise to drown out the jackhammers outside on the pavement. Kurama was sprawled on the poker table, fast asleep.
Hiei was propped up against one wall, clutching a baby blanket that had somehow found its way out of Atsuko Urameshi's closet.
The powder-blue color quite complimented his tanned skin.
The esteemed Prince of Spirit World was sucking his thumb, drool coming out of the side of his mouth.
Because they were Men, and that's what Men did.