Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ California Dreamin' ❯ California Dreamin' ( One-Shot )

California Dreamin'

Also known as, My Little Oneshot From Hell. . .

By HieiNimbus3007 (AKA NimbusXtreme3007)

HieiNimbus: "I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho. I do not own the song "California Dreamin'" I think that is owned by the Mamas and the Papas. I do not own the Mamas and the Papas. I do not own the song "Complicated." That song is owned by Avril Lavigne. I do not own Avril Lavigne. I do not own the song "Can't get you out of my head" by Kylie Minogue. I do not own Kylie Minogue. I do not own the song "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World. I do not own Jimmy Eat World. I do not own the BMW company. I do not own the McDonalds corporation. I do not own the Starbucks corporation. I do not own the brand name of Fossil. I do not own a pig named Stanley . . ."

HIEI: "I think we get the idea now that you don't own jack shit. Now would you PLEASE start this . .."

HIEINIMBUS: ***Shoves a very large McChicken McSandwich into Hiei's mouth and says a small prayer that he doesn't die of food poisoning or by choking on his own vomit*** "Well, I really SHOULD get started now before Mr. Big Shot over there gets all kung-foo up in here."

HIEI:***Makes a very rude gesture with the middle finger of his right hand*** "UCK OO, OO ITCSH!" (Obviously handicapped by the ShittyMcSandwich.)

HIEINIMBUS: "I'm GOING! Sheesh!"

A small warning now before I really and truly begin: In this fic, Hiei and Kurama are implied lovers. (As in nothing physical to suggest it, but it is obvious they live together, etc.) If you don't like this, then don't read it. Repeat after me, now: "I will not flame Ms. HieiNimbus in my review because she decided to butter the bread of the two hottest characters of Yu Yu Hakusho on the other side." Also, another little warning, characters MAY be a little OOC, but hey! They're Americans now! Thanks! :-)

California Dreamin'

He tapped his fingers in time to the music blaring on the radio and sang along. Or at least he tried to. "Can't get you out of my head, something something, something, think about. I just can't get you out of my head, something more than I care to think about. La la la, la la la la. . ." The radio clicked off and the driver turned to glare at his passenger, who had an expression of disgust on his face. "Why'd you cut off my music?"

"I would rather hear the other drivers shouting pleasant little obscenities at us than you hosting your very own karaokee night in the front seat of our car."

"It's my car."

"I pay for it."

"That's not my problem." He cut the radio back on, but not so loud. Again he sang along. "It just takes some time to live a little in the middle, something something, everything everything, will be just . . ."

"If you're going to sing, Nightingale, at least learn the frickin' words. `It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.' Okay?!" The driver nudged his shoulder.

"C'mon, Hiei! Sing along!" Hiei scowled.

"I hate American music."

"Kylie Minogue isn't American."

"She sounds like one."

"She's British! She doesn't sound American, she sounds British!"

"She sounds like a . . ."

"That's not very nice!"

"You didn't know what I was going to say."

"I knew it would be mean."

"Dumbass."

"You're in a bad mood this morning."

"Damn right, Kitsune. You poke me awake at 5:00 in the morning on my day off, you stuff me full of McSausage and Mceggs and McBiscuits and other McShit, you make me sit in the waiting room for 3 hours while you model underwear for a bunch of strange cameramen, which is really unfair to me, and now you're taking me off to look at . . . . . .drapes."

"Well, we do need drapes."

"Whatever." A loud horn blared behind them, and Hiei turned around to see a large 18-wheeler on their bumper, and the driver didn't look too happy. The man honked the horn again and Hiei gave him the finger out of the sunroof. The man screamed something incoherent and obviously rude from his own window. "Looks like we've made ourselves a friend, Kurama."

"I hate road rage."

"We wouldn't get so much if you drove a little faster. The speed limits are only called limits so the police have a reason to frisk you."

"I'm not going to go over just to please everyone else. I am an impeccably safe driver. I can't drive safely if I'm dead."

"Canary yellow BMW's weren't made for Grandma Driving."

"Just be quiet and let me operate your precious `canary yellow' speed demon." Hiei rolled his eyes and sank low into his bucket seat. Kurama hummed "Complicated" and Hiei tried not to explode (it was the 5th time he'd heard that song that day). He was about to fall asleep when he saw something out the window that sparked his interest. I mean really sparked it. Set it on fire, Blew it to bits. He clung to his window.

"Pull over, Kurama!"

"Why?"

"Starbucks!"

"Where?"

"THERE!"

"Which one?"

"The one on the left."

"Nah. How about the one on the right?"

"Either. I don't care. I need my coffee!"

"Oops!" Kurama muttered as he `accidentally' passed both by, much to Hiei's dismay. "It's okay, Hiei. We'll find another. In this town they're just like drug dealers, one on every corner."

"I need my COFFEE, Kurama!"

"I can make you coffee."

"Not even your coffee can surpass that of the heavenly establishment of Starbucks."

"I don't believe that!"

"You're too vain!"

"You're too ugly."

"I'm not ugly!"

"Yes, you are. And on top of that, you're aging prematurely. People our age aren't supposed to have white hair."

"That's it. when we get home you are getting your blanket and your Mr. Snugglie and moving to the couch."

"You can't kick me out of our bed!"

"It's MY bed."

"Yours, yours, yours. Everything's yours, isn't it?"

"That's right. And your mine, too."

"How sweet, but pardon me if I don't swoon."

"You're so poetic."

"Thank you, and you aren't really ugly."

"Thank you." They rode in silence for a few minutes longer. Hiei turned in his seat to face Kurama and looked at him. His red hair fell beautifully around his shoulders, but it wasn't as long as it used to be. He wore the cool black Fossil sunglasses with the mirrored red and orange holographic lenses that Keiko had sent him for Christmas. She had mailed them so late, they hadn't go to the States until January the 10th, he remembered.

"Why do you put up with me, Hiei?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you make all the money, Mr. Big-Shot-LA-Executive. God knows I don't make half of what you do in a day, and I just live in your house, sleep in your bed, and eat all your food. Then I drag you all over Tiseltown when you should be at home resting."

"The truth is, Kitsune, I kind-of like you, no matter what I scream at you when I'm sober."

"Coming from you that means sooooo much." Kurama leaned over and tried to put his arm around Hiei.

"Watch what you're doing!" The hand still holding the wheel slipped and the wheel turned sharply to the left. They careened sharply off the freeway.

"Kurama! Hit the -" They crashed into the thick concrete piling with a dull crunch. They sat for a moment, panting, and listened to the engine ping as it cooled underneath the crumpled hood. "-brakes . . ."

"Well, we aren't moving anymore."

"No shit."

"We crashed."

"No shit."

"I think the front end is messed up."

"No shit,"

"That's gonna take a lot of money to fix."

"No. Shit."

"At least I can hug you now without getting hurt."

"Think again! Touch me and you die!"

"Oh, C'mon, Hiei!"

"Beemer! Beemer, Kurama! Ring any bells in that hollow skull of yours? This car was going to take me a lifetime to pay of as it was!" The a sudden realization came over him like a slap in the face. "Insurance! I don't have it yet! I won't until next week! My GOD, Kurama, do you realize what you've done?!?"

"Yes, I. . ."

"Beemer!"

"I know. . ."

"Beemer, Kurama!"

"Hiei. . ."

"BEEMER!" Hiei woke with a start, sweating and panting and tangled in his sheets. The phone was ringing. He snatched it angrily. "Hello?"

"Hiei. It's Kurama...."

"BEEMER, KURAMA! YOU TRASHED MY CAR! YOU WILL PAY WITH YOUR LIFE YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING-UGLY-STUPID-WORTHLESS-BAKA-PAIN-IN-THE-ASS!" He banged the phone onto its hook and glared at the darkness.

Several miles away in a hotel in Tokyo, Kurama set down the phone and stared into space. The peanut butter sandwich he had been making lay forgotten on the counter. "I swear," he whispered to himself. "He does seem to get stranger everyday."

The End!