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keulixeutin · 4 months ago

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Humdrum

a/n: a little sweetness in the pointless humdrum. not my favorite, but not everything has to be a banger, i suppose. summary: you get baseball tickets from your company to the newly built shochiku dome and decide to bring your favorite fire demon out to a ball game. cw: fluff. reader applies make up at the start. no gendered pronouns used. gn!reader. wc: 3,489.

There was a soft thump outside your balcony. The glass door, generally left unlocked, creaked open.

“Right on time,” you said, applying the last bit of make-up product to your face. You glanced at the demon that stepped into your studio apartment without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. Your white cat crawled out from under your bed and headed toward him, rubbing against his leg. Hiei stepped over her, and though he ignored her affectionate purring, you knew he petted her when you weren’t looking.

“Give her a pat and let’s go,” you announced. “We are watching a baseball game tonight!”

“No. Go alone,” Hiei said instantly. You watched as he had the audacity to sit down on your bed and make himself comfortable after rejecting you—with his shoes still on.

“Uh, no, we’re going together,” you corrected. “And get your shoes off my bed, Hiei. Maybe shoes are okay in the Demon World, where you live in caves and pits, but that’s a cotton fucking mattress.”

He glared at you but shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of your bed as you moved around the apartment; you selected a small fanny pack that would allow you to get in and out of the stadium with ease as well as the miscellaneous items that would go into it.

“Anyways, it’s the Dragons versus the Wasps at the new Shochiku Dome, and my company so kindly”—the word was spit with venom—“gave me baseball tickets as a reward for working a hundred hours this pay period, even though I would’ve preferred a raise… And, actually, I don’t even like baseball—”

“—It’s pitiable how you think I care—”

“—But, we are going and we are going together,” you finished, unperturbed by his interruption.

“Hn. Fascinating,” he remarked, “but I’d sooner impale myself on my sword.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. He was looking down at your cat; the traitor was laying down next to him, pawing the air. Even though Hiei’s feet weren’t on your bed anymore, he still didn’t take off his shoes, leaving them to dirty your rug. Asshole.

“Fine,” you said abruptly. “It’s to be expected. The great Hiei is scared of a little unknown.”

“Why the hell would I be scared?”

You kept your face nonchalant, even though you were snickering triumphantly inside. You went through the motions of preparing to leave—buckling the fanny pack, slipping on your shoes, checking your outfit in the hanging mirror—not sparing him any passing glance.

“It’s okay, Hiei. It’s understandable. Maybe you’re big and bad in battles, but you’re at a complete loss when it comes to anything regarding humans. Of course you would be a little hesitant in coming to the baseball stadium where you would feel so small and out of your element. You know what? It was my fault for even asking; I didn’t even take into consideration your feelings on the matter.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Hiei retorted. In a show of (attempted) dominance, he kicked his shoed feet back onto the bed, now with the traitorous feline curled on his lap. “I’m not so simple-minded that I’d give in to such an obvious baiting tactic.”

You felt your eye twitch, but forced your face to stay cool and unbothered. He didn’t need to be so simple-minded; just simple enough.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a nod. “Well, I’ll be sure to let Kuwabara know, next time I see him, that, to prove you weren’t scared of baseball, you sat in my apartment. Alone. In the dark. With my cat.”

With that, you turned off the overhead lights, closed the door, and left.

Forty-five minutes later, when you made it to the front of the stadium, Hiei dropped down next to you with a scowl, startling the couple behind you who had just rounded the corner. They looked back and forth to each other, and then glanced up to the sky, but neither you, Hiei, nor God were going to answer.

In response to your victorious grin, he said, “If this is dull, I’ll kill everyone in the stadium.”

“Hiei! That is not something you can say in public!”

He looked away as though uninterested, but you saw the quick upward twitch of his lip into a half-smirk for a half-second.

Hiei walked out from behind a corner after you made it through security, having jumped over the process because he wasn’t going to relinquish his sword. He stood by your side, and the two of you looked at the huge crowd of people and the hustle and bustle of workers, you in awe and interest and Hiei in annoyance and apathy.

“Welcome to the Shochiku Dome,” you said. “They finished it a few months ago.”

There were dozens upon dozens of stalls selling Japanese and western foods; there were vendors selling merchandise; and, following the excited pointing of an elementary school kid with their parents, you saw that there was also a train about a hundred feet above the field, sculpted to look like the Shinkansen. You wondered if it was just there as interesting decor—but then you saw a man waving from inside it. Suddenly the train began to move forward on its tracks to the loud enthusiasm of the kids.

“Wow, they really went all out,” you said, but Hiei didn’t respond. He often didn’t, but you didn’t mind. Without warning, you linked arms with him. “Let’s get some food before we find our seats.”

“Let go or I cut it off,” he hissed, arm tensing in your hold..

“The crowd’s crazy, Hiei; this way, we don’t lose each other. Some of us dinky humans don’t have super senses or teleportation skills.”

You released him when you got in line and linked arms again when you decided on another stall. The strategy of not holding onto him for long seemed to work well; he endured the quick, forced proximity without further threats of forced amputation (much like your cat tolerating a three-second hug before violently thrashing in your arms).

Rather than having him pick anything out, you opted to buy whatever you found enticing. You didn’t want to overload his senses; you were already physically dragging him around in crowds. You were pretty sure he was bluffing about the whole murdering everyone in the stadium, but you didn’t want to test it. A demon was a demon, after all, and he had never explained the rules and politics of the Demon World, so maybe there were terrible things he could get away with and you were simply none the wiser.

Finally, all the food was gathered, and the two of you juggled everything back to your seats. Takoyaki, grilled wieners, yakitori, nachos, shaved ice, and one large soda with two straws to share, all balanced either in your hands or on your laps. You gazed down with a salivating smile, but Hiei looked as though you were offering him slime.

“It looks repulsive,” he said.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you said. “You can’t go wrong with sports food. Which one do you want to try first?”

“None.”

“Great, takoyaki it is!”

Even though Hiei had expressed the absolute opposite of excitement or even slight interest in the food, he still ate it. He ate whichever one you pointed out, and he sipped the soda, too (from the same straw as you, you noticed). And, after trying everything once, he continued to eat. That was how you figured out he liked the takoyaki, nachos, and shaved ice best; he didn’t care much for the grilled wieners or the yakitori, which was surprising. You would’ve bet that, of all the options, the demon would at least like the meat on a stick, but you supposed Hiei was surprising in a variety of ways.

As you watched him reach for another cheesy nacho chip, you couldn’t help the knowing smile. “Got the itch to slaughter the stadium yet?” you teased.

He sent you an annoyed look as you gently bumped his shoulder with yours. “No,” he said, though before you could celebrate, he added, “but there’s plenty of time to change my mind.”

You laughed, leaving the last takoyaki for him and finishing the rest of the yakitori.

Eventually, after the two of you ate all of the food and tucked the plates and trash under your seats to keep them out of the way, all that was left was to watch the game. Once your focus shifted to the game, though, it finally dawned on you that you were quite far from the field. It wasn’t that the seats were terrible, but considering that they were supposed to be a token of appreciation for your work and loyalty, you were feeling more than miffed that your company couldn’t offer a little more than not-nosebleed seats. It didn’t even matter that you didn’t care for baseball; it was the principle of the matter.

Hiei, noticing your abrupt slouch and frown, asked, “What?”

You sighed. “We don’t need to be in the VIP box, but damn, it feels like the train is closer to the field than we are…”

After a beat, he said, “Explain.”

“What, the VIP box?”

“The human custom. Company rewards. Explain it.” He had his arms crossed, staring bored down at the diamond field, looking liked he’d rather be fighting in the pits of hell than watching a baseball game—but you still felt like he was looking at you, like he was seeing you, just by the mere fact that he was listening, that he had asked.

“Basically, when you’re working for a company, they give you rewards. What you want are bonuses—more money at the end of the year, usually—or raises, which is ideal. My dumb company is trying this new thing where, instead of giving you bonuses or raises, they give out more rewards like gift cards or gift baskets, or tickets to events like baseball games.”

A few more beats passed, and you thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then, to your surprised, he asked, “Why?”

You were simultaneously aggravated by the topic of your company trying to get away without paying its workers what they deserved and elated that Hiei was taking so much interest in your feelings and “human customs.”

“It’s cheaper than giving you a raise or a bonus,” you explained. “I don’t follow anything baseball related, but it was either this or a rice cooker, and I already got a new one, so…”

“That is the overall consensus?” Hiei asked. “The workers would prefer raises over base ball gifts?”

“Well, yeah, pretty much.”

“Then just slaughter them.”

“Huh?”

“The supervising humans. Threaten to take their heads if they do not answer to your demands. Simple.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you had to bite back a smile. “Nice, but…not how it works here in the Human World,” you told him. “We can’t just kill the execs. Thanks, though, I guess.”

Hiei scoffed. “That is why we’re here wasting our time with a sport neither of us understand in seats designed to torture its user.”

“Yeah…the seats are pretty ass,” you snickered. “…But at least we have each other.” For emphasis, you nudged his shoulder with yours again.

“Idiotic.”

Abruptly, there was sharp clack—the ball flew overhead: a potential homerun, this much you knew. Everyone stood up excitedly; even you sat forward in your seat and Hiei tilted his head to squint at the ball soaring high above, beneath bright stadium lights—and then a rival player caught it and there was a great cheering on the other side and a grumble of disappointment on the home team’s side.

“What does that mean?” Hiei asked.

“Who knows, but that was kind of exciting, right?” you said with a cheeky grin.

“How is your understanding of your own species’ custom so pitiful?”

“Alright, I understand some things,” your protested. “Um. Okay, so there are two teams.”

“I can see that, obviously.”

“Shut up!” you snorted. “There are two teams, and each team gets a few tries to hit the ball with the bat, and you want to hit it far and high enough so you can run around the bases—those little diamond things in the ground. When you make it all the away around, that’s one point.”

“What’s the purpose?”

“To get the most points.”

“And the purpose of having events like this?”

“It’s just for fun. I mean, it’s their job, too. They bring honor and pride and, uh, gloating rights to the team and city. People like it.”

He snorted derisively. “Humans waste their time running around diamonds embedded in the dirt than train.”

“Well, humans don’t have to fight monsters every day,” you pointed out, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Don’t demons do anything for fun?”

The scornful look Hiei gave you told you that most, if not all, demonic hobbies included spilling other demons’ blood.

“Things aren’t done for fun,” he said mockingly. “They’re done for power. Strength. Ensure your rightful place at the top.”

“Um—if you’re a good sports player, humans consider you at the top in a way.”

“Hn. Foolish.”

The entire game was spent like that, small conversations here and there about rule clarifications (which you mostly deflected or completely made up) and questions about the odd things that people did (what players did for good luck before stepping to bat or why the home team chanted to support them). Then, small talk led to discussions about the difference between demonkind and humankind. You learned that there was more variety among human culture and customs. The Demon World didn’t seem to have the same comfort or luxurious that Earth provided. It was a constant fight for resources and survival. Much of the demon customs seemed to revolve around who was the strongest, which explained a lot of how Hiei viewed the alien world around him.

It was interesting. It was sweet. There wasn’t anything affectionate that was said, and nothing was even said affectionately. Most of the time, Hiei didn’t make any eye contact with you, but his focus was on you—you knew by the reactions, by the gentle beats in conversation, not a lull but a pause, a breath, a moment to gather thoughts and ask you another question or answer one of yours.

At one point, you got up to go buy popcorn and get a drink refill. You offered him a piece of popcorn after a few minutes, and he accepted. One bite became two became three, and soon, you gave him the bag to hold and eat. You leaned your shoulder against him, and when one minute became two became three, you took the chance to lean your head against his shoulder. Hiei tensed up under you, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t move, didn’t eat another bite. You wondered if it was because he was uncomfortable, or maybe he was insecure or unsure, or maybe he was just trying to keep from jostling you.

The heat of his body warmed you. Maybe it was even warmer with you so close—not because of how close you were to his body, but how close you were to him (here was a difference, you thought).

You could fall asleep like this, if the seats weren’t so painful.

Suddenly, there was another clack, a loud smashing of bat against ball. This time, it really was a homerun. Everyone cheered as the ball went overhead, disappearing into the lights. The crowd cheered and, caught up in the energy of the people around you, you sat up, grinning, looking back at Hiei who quietly met your gaze.

It was only the fireworks left, but Hiei seemed to be getting antsy. You had told him that it would only be fifteen more minutes, but he had stood irritably and glared at you impatiently, telling you to get up with gritted teeth.

You sighed, following him out of the stadium. The fireworks would’ve been a nice close out to a nice night. You wondered if that meant that you were the only one that had been enjoying it, if you were the only one that had been happy with the time spent with him and he was the one who was barely tolerating it. You hadn’t thought it was that bad: he had eaten the food and the snacks; he had conversed with you; he had even let you lean against him. You had even caught a brief, impressed look on his face at one play. Perhaps you should just be grateful that he even comes to visit you when he he had no need to. Perhaps you shouldn’t ask for anything more.

But then, as soon as you stepped outside, he grabbed your wrist and led you to an area hidden out of view.

“What the heck are we doing?” you asked.

“Quiet.” He looked around before turning his back to you. “Get on.”

“Huh?”

“Hurry up before I leave you here,” he said.

You stared at his back, thinking of the first time you had met him; he had saved you from a demon—and he was shirtless. You could still see, clear as day, his back and shoulder muscles tensing and flexing as he moved.

“Today, fool.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

You squeezed the top of the popcorn bag together to scrunch it close, keeping it from spilling. You stepped forward, throwing your hands tentatively over his shoulders. When you lifted one leg to wrap around his hip, your face warmed. You jumped off with your other leg, dropping your weight against his back; Hiei grabbed your thighs. You could feel the heat from his coarse fingers, pressed against the fabric of your pants. You wondered if he could feel the softness there underneath.

Before you could ask what his plan was, what he wanted, if he could feel your heartbeat, so rapid against his back, Hiei shot up straight into the sky, the vertical path parallel to the stadium. You couldn’t tell if the gasp you heard was one that had left your diaphragm or the diaphragm of the man that had just stumbled drunkenly around the corner.

The city was beautiful. The sky was so, so big from up there. Lights flickered beneath you of people eking out a quiet existence. Buildings tried to scratch their height into the clouds. The winding streets lit up with a thousand pedestrians, their phones lighting up roads like starlight.

Hiei jumped off the stadium wall and a tall tree, landing easily on the stadium roof, the part of it that wasn’t open. There was a giant gap in the middle from where the roof had parted, showing the field and the seats far down below. You walked up next to Hiei, grabbing his arm to ground yourself; you were so high up that your legs and feet were tingling uncomfortably.

“Holy shit,” you said. “We should’ve been up here from the very start.”

“It wouldn’t have helped the view.”

He was right. Everyone was too small from up there. You wouldn’t have seen any of the plays, any of the balls flying across the heads of the players, but as you looked out at the crawling expanse of the city and its lights, you thought you wouldn’t have minded. You had never seen anything more romantic, or breathtaking, or wondrous.

You tugged on his arm to signal to him and he held you steady as you sat down, the tingling feeling never leaving your feet. Hiei sat down beside you, leaning back on his right arm that was propped a little too close into your space. (The part of your hips closest to his hand was tingling, too.) Music started to play from below, and just as the notes swelled, fireworks lit up the night sky in a crescendo of colors and shapes. One flower after another shimmered against the dim dark, sparking and chattering in the way that ember did before exhaling into smoke. Shadows dipped and disappeared across your face followed by the glimmering explosions highlighting your nose and cheekbones, a continuous cycle of the day and night sweeping across your cheeks.

“What’s the purpose of this?” Hiei asked, his voice strangely low and strangely surrounding you.

“Another thing for fun,” you replied. “Just ‘cause.”

“Humans do a lot of pointless things.”

You shrugged. “Maybe because we lead a lot of pointless lives.”

He grunted, laying down and crossing his hands underneath his head. “Wake me up when it’s over,” he said, closing his eyes.

—But maybe that was a pointless thing, too, because you caught him glancing at you under the red glow of the fireworks, and he caught you wondering if he’d let you lay in his arms.