Ghost Monk

          
After having tried to wake Shuichi up a few times, which involved much growling, taking the blanket and even physically kicking the damned brat out of bed, Eiri had finally managed to get him conscious by one single little threat. One he wished he’d thought of ten minutes previous. Crossing his arms as he leaned on the doorframe, he stated with finality, in a tone that was a mixture of boredom and gruff irritation, “Che. Fine, brat. Don’t get up when I tell you to.”



          
The blonde paused a moment to see if that had any reaction. Nothing. Apparently, Shuichi had learned to tune that out, knowing he didn’t mean any real threat with it. Fine by him, he could up the stakes. “Stay right there then. I’ll be back in a minute to let Tatsuha have his turn at trying to wake you up. Just for the fuck of it, shits and giggles, I’ll even give him one of the most outrageous outfits that bunny-biting idol of yours owns. I’m sure he can find a way to .. spice things up a bit.”



          
Violet eyes snapped open immediately and the indignant little singer puffed up like a ruffled chicken as he leapt from the futon, balling his hands at his sides and glaring, “You wouldn’t dare!”



          
“Try me.” Eiri remarked, clearly enjoying the sight of Shuichi’s small frame huffing at him as his lover stalked closer.
But the vocalist surprised his golden-eyed love when he’d finally reached him, giving him a slightly impish smile and that sparkle in his eyes that never failed to cause Eiri’s breath to hitch. It also made him want to drag his little kitten back to the futon. Shuichi wrapped his arms around Eiri’s waist and purred at him, “You wouldn’t. You’re too damned possessive of me to hand me over to Tatsuha.”



          
Snorting his derisive objections, Eiri tilted his head back as if unaffected by Shuichi’s actions and statements, even if his genki brat knew better. Forms must be kept, after all. “Time for your bath, Shu. You’ve now got less than ten minutes to be ready to face the storm.”



          
“Che.” Shuichi muttered, allowing Eiri to ‘escort’ him towards the bathing room. He was picking up some of his lover’s habits, apparently. Instead of whining pathetically, clinging to Eiri and sobbing hysterically, as he would’ve done a few years ago, he merely mentally debated his chances of survival. It was a contest between hitching a ride back to Tokyo this late (and NOT getting violated on the way), versus staying at the Shrine with Mika around. Unfortunately for Shuichi, with his life, much akin to gambling, the odds were always in favor of the House. “I’d rather drag you back to bed.”



          
“Later, brat. If you’re good.” Eiri murmured, still amused by Shuichi’s maturing personality. Kami, life was a lot easier to deal with now that he didn’t always have to hear the near-ultrasonic whining twenty-four/seven. Granting him an affectionate stroking down his hair and back, he then pushed the pink-haired man into the furo area. “Now bathe before you continue to stink up the place.”



          
“Haaaiiiii……” Shuichi intoned like a child, just to piss off Eiri, smirking and trotting inside when he was rewarded by the novelist’s flinch.





•





          
Rubbing a finger in his ear, Eiri rolled his eyes and, shaking his head, made his way out to the main common room where they were all going to gather. It was something akin to ‘Neutral Ground’, which suited him just fine. Only their father was present, meaning Tatsuha wasn’t done getting ready yet. He wasn’t terribly surprised, considering the damned teen was fucking indolently lazy for a monk who was next in line to inherit the Shrine. Then he paused, realizing that he could very well possibly still be in the furo. His fears were confirmed when a high-pitched cry came from that direction, “TATTTSUUUHAAA!!! I’M NOT A BATH TOY!”



          
“Sharing yet another toy, son?” Uesugi-san asked without flinching at the sudden noise, daring to move the beers out of Eiri’s reach.



          
Calmly, Eiri lit himself a cigarette, seating himself in across the table from his father and swiping at least two of the beers back, muttering, “Fuck.”



          
Unable to contain himself, Uesugi-san lifted a beer to his lips, laughing around it as he continued to dig his eldest son further. “You’d better hope not.”



          
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Eiri growled, glancing sidelong at the bare wall as a few of their ancestors floated into the room, settling themselves contentedly to watch the show. “Great. Another country heard from.” The only selling point was the fact that one of them immediately stole Uesugi-san’s cigarettes while he was busy tormenting Eiri. That event made him feel loads better.



          
Uesugi-san, having no real sensitivity, either for ghosts or even for his own children, didn’t notice or feel a thing. Though he didn’t discount Eiri’s insistence that he could now see and speak to, the ancestors who inhabited the Shrine, he wasn’t about to indulge him either. So he ignored the boy’s ramblings as commonplace and glanced down for his cigarettes, only to find them missing.



          
Eiri smirked at the death glare he was given once the old man realized that his cigarettes were gone. “Don’t blame me. It happens even when I’m not here, doesn’t it?” Leaning his elbow on the table, he blew out a puff of smoke, slightly amused that he could practically feel the waves of battle aura beginning to collect around his father. “Look, pops. You can can’t even control me, what makes you think any of us has any real shot at controlling beings who’ve had longer to practice being Uesugi Bastards than we have?”



          
Uesugi-san seemed to deflate, looking contemplative now as the resident ghosts began snickering. One of them waved his cane at Eiri, cheering him for one-upping his father yet again. “That’s how the game’s played, boy!”
Eventually, as Uesugi-san glared at the table, he muttered, “Fuck.”



          
That caused the ghosts to cackle even harder and Eiri had to admit, at least to himself, he’d started liking these crazy bastards. Of course, that was yet another thing that he’d NEVER admit to. Raising his beer can in mock-toast, a faint smile on his lips, he murmured, “Exactly.”





TBC