Author's Note: Happy December! Wow, I haven't written anything for this fandom in quite a while... I guess I was due. It's just a quick Hiei/Kurama winter-themed drabble I cooked up as a reward for finishing my 6-page essay earlier tonight. (Which was MURDER. Finals officially suck.) So here ya go!

Hiei's POV. I think I've done that with both of my published Yu Yu Hakusho fics now... it's just so easy for me to get into his head for some reason!

Also, I seem to be delving farther and farther into the realm of "boy-love," but this could be taken either way, really. Whatever floats your boat, people. I don't judge - I just write it.

Please leave your feedback! Comments are made of LOVE, people!

Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi.

XxX

I hate admitting weakness.

I hate admitting I'm wounded. I hate admitting I'm sick. I hate admitting that I don't know what's going on.

And I especially hate admitting that Kurama is right.

Which is why I am staunchly refusing to go inside right now, even though snow is dampening my hair and clothes and dripping down my back and flying into my eyes.

I'm standing in the tree just outside his window, and it has to be about midnight. I swore to Yusuke that I would watch over our fox while he healed. The last mission ended less than a week ago, and even Kurama can't heal that fast. If another demon was to strike while he was still recovering…

I stop the thought. It won't happen anyway. I'm watching over him.

I shiver and curse the cold. I had not factored snow into my plans for keeping a constant vigil, but it is two weeks into December and a snowstorm isn't uncommon. Even so, I am freezing, wet, and miserable.

And Kurama knows.

I can see him glancing out at me with concerned eyes every few minutes while he finishes his ningen homework. The desk lamp lights up his face and I can see his every feature, every long red hair framing his beautiful face.

Beautiful and deadly, I remind myself. Something he demonstrated perfectly during our last mission.

My treacherous body shudders again and he sees. I watch him with narrowed eyes as he sighs in exasperation and stands, moving over to the window for the second time tonight. He slides it open and leans out, the cold wind playing with his hair.

"Come in and warm up, Hiei. You can watch over me just as well – if not better – from in here," he says. I say nothing. I think I'm frozen solid.

I hate it when he's right.

He sighs again when I don't move, a puff of breath in the cold air.

"Fine," he says, "but I will leave the window unlocked in case you change your mind later." With that, he slips back inside and heads over to the desk again. I can't take my eyes off of him as he gathers his school supplies and stuffs them into the black satchel hanging over the back of his chair. He glances at me again, frustration clear on his face, then turns away from the window and strips off his shirt.

I'm startled at first but then realize he is just getting ready for bed.

Right.

He dons a white t-shirt – back still turned to me – and heads out of the room. I know he is only going to the bathroom, but my heart still starts to beat faster when he is out of my sight.

Waiting for him to return is the worst. I clench and unclench my frozen fists in my pockets, checking for mobility. Very little. Bad news. I find myself eyeing the window longingly. It would be nice to get warm… I could just stay in for a couple minutes. I'm sorely tempted for a moment, but then Kurama is back and I stop thinking about it.

He has changed into navy flannel pants and his face is slightly flushed from washing. He meets my eyes one more time before going to bed, arching an eyebrow expectantly, but I just glare and he shrugs. I can't help but feel envious as he slides in between the covers of his bed and switches off the light. It takes only a moment for my eyes to adjust, and I see that he is lying with his face turned away from me. I heave a sigh.

Damn.

I don't last more than an hour. I can tell from Kurama's long, even breaths that he is deeply asleep, so I finally give into the temptation and leap nimbly to the windowsill, sliding it open without a sound. I can feel the warm air from inside already and my shudders begin to fade.

I step into the room warily, unsure of whether or not Kurama will sense me and jump immediately to intruder-mode. Goodness knows I don't want to be on the receiving end of one of his attacks, especially an instinctual one. I know his true instincts, and wisely fear them.

I close the window behind me silently and lock it, just in case. I look around his room for somewhere to curl up and wait the night out, but my eyes keep getting drawn to his bed.

It's probably suicide, but I can't help it.

I approach cautiously, but Kurama doesn't wake. He has flipped onto his back and I watch him for a moment, wondering how someone so dangerous could look so innocent in sleep. His red hair is splayed over the pillow and I am tempted to pet it…

I shake my head to dispel the ludicrous thought, blaming it on exhaustion, and brace myself instead for what I am about to do.

I gently pull back the blankets and slip under them, careful not to jolt the bed too much. Luckily – amazingly – he still does not wake, and I know I am safe. I let the covers fall back and am stunned by how warm he is. His body is producing enough heat to keep both of us comfortable. I hesitate, then decide to go for it.

I scoot closer to him and gently snake an arm around his torso, trying to access as much of his body heat as possible. It is ridiculously dangerous, and yet so comfortable.

Kurama shifts slightly in his sleep and I stiffen, but he still does not wake. By now I am tempted to think he might be faking, but I find myself rather unable to care. I am already fighting off sleep; the warmer I get, the harder it is to keep my eyes open.

I must have finally given in, because the next thing I know sun is shining into the room and I am alone in the bed. I jolt into a sitting position, immediately worried that someone stole him away while I was asleep, but a bright green note on the lamp next to the bed catches my attention.

Hiei, it says in his precise script, I hope you slept well. I will be home at four. Feel free to stay and help yourself to any food in the house.

PS: Next time just admit that I'm right and save yourself the frostbite.

Slightly puzzled, I touch my face. It's raw and the skin feels rough, almost like it's made of wood. I look at my fingers and notice that they, too, are raw. I feel a flush creep into my frostbitten cheeks as I head into the bathroom to warm up my frozen extremities.

I hate it when he's right.

fin