FicWad

The next week was a time of upheaval, in many ways, and no little uncertainty. After all, I was suddenly someone's lover-- we never actually agreed to continue sleeping together, but it was somehow just a given that we would. So we did.

I quickly found myself as addicted to that act as I'd been to anything else in my admittedly limited life. Addicted to Yuki, to the slow glide of his touches, the heat in his eyes. The way he looked at me that suggested maybe he was as addicted to me as I was to him.

I'd been living nearly completely without touch up until that point. It can't be that strange that I found it overwhelming.

Suspicion made us cautious, especially around Shigure since I figured if anyone had been assigned to watch Yuki, it was him. So in public we sniped and argued and called each other names-- compared to the way we used to be, it almost seemed like a game, a play of words with no real substance behind them. But it was the appearance that was important, and hopefully it wasn't too obvious that an appearance was all it was.

The nights were harder. I was surprised how quickly I got used to having another body sleeping beside me. It was-- comforting, maybe. Reassuring. On the nights we slept separately, I laid awake nearly until dawn, cold despite the blankets and the warm fall air. I wanted nothing more than to get up and creep down the hall to his room, curl up beside him so I could /sleep/-- but it seemed like too much of a risk.

And of course there was the very real danger that we would be overheard when we did spend time in the same bed-- it was easy enough to say we would keep quiet, but in the middle of things, when our minds weren't quite working right anymore? It was practically impossible. I was sure I had given us away when Yuki finally took me up on my offer to swap positions-- nearly bit my tongue in half trying to keep it all in. It was an odd experience-- very odd, at first, to be touched like that-- but more than worth it in the end.

It would have been smarter on both our parts to stop. To cut things off and say thanks for the memories, and go back to something a little more platonic. Each of us said that, too, on more than one occasion. But I always ended up with a tight little knot in my gut when I considered it, and I thought maybe he did, too. Each time we touched, the words seemed to lose a little more conviction.

And after a couple of weeks went by without any sign of angry clan heads coming after our blood, we stopped saying them altogether.

It was a Sunday morning, that I woke up to the feeling of warm lips on my throat. Not exactly unpleasant. Not exactly unfamiliar either, by then, and I knew just where that particular caress was bound to lead. That morning, though-- it suddenly seemed far more important that I just go back to sleep. So up came a hand, which found the face attached to those lips and shoved. "Stop't."

The lips transferred to my hand, nibbling on a finger. I frowned, but before I could do anything about that, there was a hand that wasn't mine running over my hip, across my abdomen and moving lower--

"Yuki!" I sat up, having time to see my cousin's wide purple-grey eyes from up close before I pushed him away, sending him to his back on the other side of the bed. "Fuck off and leave me alone." Still scowling, I burrowed my face back into the pillow.

And then, slowly, began to realize what I'd just said and done.

The irritation died-- it hadn't even been a fully formed thing to begin with, and I wasn't really sure where it had come from. It wouldn't have been the first time Yuki woke me in that particular manner, and I usually enjoyed it just as much as he did.

I shifted enough so that my mouth was free of the pillow. "I'm-- sorry," I said hesitantly. "I don't know why I just did that."

I heard the sound of a rueful sigh. "I do."

The answer was surprising enough that I lifted my head the rest of the way. Yuki was looking at me with a kind of resignation on his face, though to my relief he didn't look angry. He lifted his chin in a gesture, and I followed his direction, rolling over to look behind me.

The window of the room, far from showing the light of morning, was a dark square, sheeted with water. I groaned, turning to bury my face in the pillow again. "Yeah, that'd do it," I muttered. And once I knew what the problem was, I could feel the other symptoms of it, too-- the ache deep in my bones, the pressure across my temples, the odd feeling that my skin didn't quite fit right-- the urge to curl up and sleep the day away, accompanied by the infuriating zinging along my nerves that made it impossible to do so. All the lovely little signs that told me it was raining, hard, and didn't plan to stop anytime soon.

I felt the bed move as Yuki shifted, and then he was settling close in front of me, and his hand hesitantly touched the side of my face. "I thought-- maybe I could wake you up in a good mood," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, too."

I cracked an eye open to look up at him, realizing that he'd actually expected me to wake up pissy due to the rain. He knew me well enough-- remembered enough of what I'd told him about my particular brand of the curse-- to know what I would do. That thought made me attempt to smile up at him. "Well, thanks for the thought, anyway."

He smiled back down at me-- tightly, but for real-- and all seemed to be forgiven.

I sat up, scrubbing my hands over my face in a vain attempt to rub away the fuzzy-headed feeling. It didn't really work.

Yuki's hand shifted to my neck, rubbing gently. "Would a hot shower help?"

I considered. It seemed counterproductive to try to fix the situation with more water-- but the heat often helped to clear my head, and definitely went a long way towards getting rid of the various aches. "Probably, yeah."

He nodded. "You do that, then, and I'll take care of breakfast." He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed me briefly before pulling on some pants and padding quietly from the room.

I watched him go, and for a moment I was confused-- Yuki wasn't the sort to parade around half-dressed outside of the privacy of the bedroom, even before he'd put those scars on his arms-- but then my brain kicked in and I remembered that we were alone in the house. Tohru was with her friends, Shigure was hiding from his editor yet again. Just another day in the Sohma household.

The hot water did help, enough that I thought I could manage to go back to sleep after breakfast. That thought of course led me to wonder if Yuki would want to nap with me, which of course led me to thoughts that made me smirk as I made my way down to the kitchen.

I really was still fuzzy-minded, not quite fully with it yet. That is my excuse for not noticing the stiff, quiet way Yuki was sitting at the table-- or the presence of another person standing to one side of the door, until I was already past them and they slammed something very solid into the back of my head.

After that--

I was on the floor. Or I'd been turned into a cat again-- either way, I had to shift a bit and look up to see what was going on, and that was certainly an adventure all on its own. My head felt like it had been separated from the rest of me, and was throbbing enough to knock my eyes out of focus. I'd been hit enough in the past to know what a concussion felt like, and thankfully this wasn't quite to that level-- but that certainly didn't make it hurt any less.

It was still enough to keep me from jumping up and strangling Akito when the bastard stepped out around me and started towards Yuki.

I tried to get up-- even made it halfway on my own, after a few tries. But my muscles didn't seem to want to work right. And so by the time I levered myself to my feet aided heavily by the wall, Akito was already crouching next to Yuki, with one hand holding my cousin's chin and an expression on his face that made me want to snarl.

"Now that we're all here, then-- we can talk." The hand moved, pushing some of the Rat's hair back from his face. "I've heard some rumours, Yuki. Why don't you tell me all about what you've been doing?"

Yuki shuddered-- I could see his shoulders moving as the shiver ran down his arms-- and his eyes flicked over to me. There was the most horrible look of defeat in those eyes as he opened his mouth and began to spill our secrets. Relate our conversations. Describe what we'd done--

As woozy as I was-- all I could do was listen while my blood ran cold.

Stupid cat. To think that we were being so clever, that we were covering our tracks-- we'd probably given ourselves away a hundred times over. How stupid to let down our guard just because no one had come to confront us yet--

Just as I was starting to think that I might be able to walk again, Akito held up his hand and Yuki's broken, whispered speech trailed off into silence. That silence held for a moment, and then the clan head's raised hand swung down and sent Yuki sprawling to the floor.

Adrenaline is really a wonderful thing. I was across the room and had an arm around that scrawny bastard's neck before I remembered I was supposed to be dizzy-- it somehow got shoved aside to be dealt with later, far less important at that moment than the red trickle of blood coming from Yuki's split lip.

After a moment's scrabbling, Akito finally slipped a hand under my grip-- and then with a strength that should have been impossible for him, he wrenched himself free and shoved me viciously backwards.

"Demon /monster/!" His mad little eyes were blazing, his teeth were bared towards me in a ferocious snarl-- but I noticed he never actually looked directly at me. In fact, as soon as I was far enough away he whirled back around and had Yuki's face between his hands. "I expected more from you, Yuki," he whispered. "I don't know how you could betray me like this. But I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself."

One hand let go, slowly levered around to point towards me. "Kill him."

It was one of those moments where time seemed to slow, when everything came into painfully sharp focus. I saw the triumphant little smirk on Akito's face. I saw the look of horror cross Yuki's eyes even as he rolled to his feet and started towards me. I heard my own voice start spitting out curses under my breath, even as my mind raced and scrambled for a way to get out of this alive. Because I knew from much experience that Yuki could kick my ass, and if Akito's control was really as complete as I had been led to believe--

I had to believe that Yuki wouldn't fight to the full extent of his abilities. I had to believe that he would somehow hold back and give me a chance, because otherwise--

Ironic, in a way. So many years of fighting and rivalry, and I was in the most danger from him once we'd finally set our differences aside.

One thing I did know-- I wasn't going to be able to fight fair. So the first thing I did was start picking up whatever was in reach and throwing it at him-- not elegant, but somewhat effective. It did slow him down, though not much-- he didn't dodge at all, just took the hits and kept on coming. I saw him wincing at a few of them, and I knew he would have bruises.

But something in his actions gave me hope-- he wasn't defending himself, wasn't doing anything but going straight for the kill. Following the letter of the command and not the spirit. It wasn't much of an advantage but it was still there. I had an almost giddy rush of relief at that, but at the same time it/ hurt /somehow, to realize-- he was practically giving me permission to hurt him enough that he couldn't come after me again.

For so long, I'd dreamed of beating him. Fantasized about seeing him on the ground at my feet, imagined the rush of victory-- now, here he was offering it to me, and I found myself almost sick at the thought of it.

Still, neither of us had a choice. When he was close enough, I launched myself at him, hoping to take him by surprise, or at least make it end quickly. He was faster than me, but I was heavier, so if I could get him pinned-- but he dodged at the last moment, darting to the side while his hands shot out for my throat in a crushing blow that I barely managed to block.

He always was far stronger than he looked.

Still, I could tell he wasn't using everything he had-- he wasn't fighting with any strategy, just sending out hard, finishing strikes one after the other. We circled around each other for a tense eternity that only lasted a few seconds in reality. I could feel time slipping away from us-- sooner or later, Akito would see what he was doing, would order him to fight in earnest, and that would be the end.

That thought made me wonder, in a corner of my mind that I didn't have time to acknowledge-- why wasn't he ordering /me /just to stand still and take it?

I circled around, and Yuki turned to follow my movements-- and I caught sight of one of the things I'd thrown earlier, down behind his feet. A little footstool, more decorative than anything else but blocky and solid and right where it needed to be. I barely stopped to think before I lunged forward, tackling his waist and ignoring the choking pressure of his hands on my throat.

And just as I'd hoped, as he stepped back his heel hit the edge of the table. Something caught, something slipped-- we went down hard. I felt the pressure of the impact even though he was beneath me as a cushion, and it made my head lurch alarmingly even as his breath left him in a forced gasp. The stool shifted, and his legs twisted, and something make a sickening popping sound.

I heard Akito yelling something, behind me. I think I might have whispered an apology before I scrambled up and away from Yuki, but I don't know if he heard it-- his eyes were closed, and he was still gasping for breath, lying stunned and limp there on the floor. I spared a moment to hope that I hadn't set off one of his bronchial attacks.

There were other things to worry about, though, once I had the time to deal with them-- and so the moment I was clear, I turned and lunged as well as I could towards Akito.

The bastard looked scared/-- to my immense satisfaction-- and he did his best to scramble away from me as I approached. There wasn't far that he could go, though, with the table to one side and the wall behind him. I could see the tension building in him with each step I took, could almost /feel him starting to panic as I reached--

And for the first time, he gave me a direct order.

"Get away from me! Get/ away from me/!"

I felt like all the air had frozen in my lungs, as the words seemed to wash over me, a bucket of cold water right up my spine-- the chill hit of rain over every inch of my skin. But-- far from what I expected, that was all it was. Like water, it ran off, leaving me cold and shaking but unaffected in its wake. It hurt a bit to breathe, but I did manage to draw in enough air--

"Not fuckin' likely."

Akito's mad little eyes bulged, and his mouth opened and shut without a sound-- under any other circumstance, I might have taken the time to laugh at the sight. But there was an odd sound behind me, and I remembered Yuki's presence there-- incapacitated, but I didn't know for how long-- so I just dove forward again, reaching for the bastard's throat.

"Yuki/!" the clan head screamed, scrambling back. He grabbed at my wrist, and maybe it was just my head messing me up again, or maybe he really was a lot stronger than he looked, because he managed to hold me off. "Get over here! /Help me!"

That mix of sounds came from behind me again, movement and breathing and something else, and I gritted my teeth and wrestled with the grip on me-- only to be completely robbed of my strength when I heard a weak voice from behind me.

"No."

I had to turn and look, though it seemed Akito was just as stunned because he didn't try to press the advantage. We probably looked incredibly stupid, sprawled there frozen in mid-claw, practically holding hands. But there was Yuki to distract us, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, with a fiercely triumphant look in his eyes that was almost frightening to see. I'm not sure it was fully sane.

I felt Akito flinch through the grip he had on my arm. "Yuki-- I order you--"

"No/," my cousin and lover growled, taking a limping step forward. "I will not hurt Kyou. I will /not help you. You can go to hell for all I care."

"Yuki, no," Akito whined, changing personas so quickly I barely had time to figure out what was going on. "You can't possibly pick him over me. I've always taken care of you-- I've never deliberately hurt you. He's the /cat/. I am your /god/--"

Yuki drew himself up and looked down on the huddled form of our clan head. "Not any more," he whispered.

Akito was frozen in stillness for a moment-- then he was all furious motion, struggling against me. That impossible strength took me by surprise once again, and suddenly we were through the screens and out on the porch with the rain pounding down on us-- and then he was away from me with a wide, triumphant smile on his face.

I only recognized the painfully familiar sight of my bracelet in his hand as the first spasms of the transformation began.

No matter how many times I go though that, I doubt I will ever be used to it. It's not like the quick, simple poof from human to cat and back again. It's a slow breaking and rearranging of the shape that I should be in, a time when I can't see or hear, when everything becomes consumed by a liquid fire that starts in the centre of my bones and eats its way out. And the roar and mutter of the dark thing in the back of my head gets louder and louder until it drowns out the world--

It's a slow death that unfortunately doesn't leave me in peace afterwards, though it does feel like it kills a little of my soul each time.

When I became aware again, the rain was all around us, and Yuki was standing between me and Akito, hands clenched at his sides. The pounding in my abused head was worse, making things spin around me slowly-- which, combined with the skewed senses of my monstrous other form, was more than a little disorienting.

Yuki was saying something, but I couldn't hear it. I could hear Akito's yelled response, though it took me a while to filter through the words and gain sense from them.

"Don't you see what he is?" the clan head was screaming. "Don't you see what kind of thing lives inside him? How can you possibly look at him, touch him-- how can you possibly choose him over me?"

Yuki stood, tense and waiting, listening to the tirade-- then slowly stepped backwards towards me, one slow pace at a time. When he was close enough he twisted-- never taking his eyes from Akito's flushed face-- and reached out to take my misshapen, clawed hand in his.

I nearly jerked away, feeling the familiar shame eat at me, raking its way through my guts-- but he held on. I looked at his face, and it was calm, determined.

"He's still Kyou," was all he said, and those three words in that quiet voice might have been a lighting bolt hitting me square in the chest.

Akito made the face I would have liked to make, eyes bugging, mouth gaping, thoroughly confused and panicked. He was perfectly still other than for a kind of disjointed shaking-- then the bracelet fell nervelessly from his fingers, and he whirled and ran off into the dimness of the storm.

The moment the bracelet hit the ground I was lunging for it, scrabbling in the mud until I managed to tangle it around my fingers.

"Kyou--"

Yuki's voice, behind me. I turned, the bracelet clutched tightly, and saw that he had sank to his knees. I remembered suddenly that awful snapping sound when he'd fallen. He was looking up at me, though, as I took a few steps towards him, and while there was pain there, and the dazed weariness that comes as adrenaline fades, he still seemed coherent.

"I-- I'm not sure I can make it back inside. My ankle-- I don't think it's broken, but I don't think I can walk anymore, either."

I took a step forward, hesitated-- looked down at the bracelet in my hand and almost slipped it over my wrist. But those three words were still ringing in my head. And so it didn't seem to be quite so painfully wrongto take a few more steps and carefully pick him up in those misshapen, too-long arms, using the extra strength of that freakish body to get us both through the ruined doors and up the stairs to my bedroom. I laid him down carefully at the edge of the bed before taking the bracelet-- my prison and my freedom all in one-- and putting it on.

Ironically enough, the pain of changing back has always been far worse than that of the original transformation. When it was finished with me, I was shaking and panting and weak as a newborn-- good, then, that I'd got us into the house /first/-- but my head was on something soft, and there was a hand brushing back my hair.

I pried open my eyelids to see tired grey eyes peering down at me from out of a wet tangle of hair. There was something of shock in that look-- which I think I was feeling a bit of myself-- and something of warmth. In the end I stopped looking, closing my eyes again and somehow managing to roll until I could wind my arms around his waist.

A blanket came from somewhere and wrapped around us, heedless of the mud and water that soaked us through. And after a while-- I didn't notice them either.