Bleach Drabble (236-238)
So my allergies have been making me feel vaguely nauseous and itchy and congested all day. So instead of working, I goofed around and wrote some...stuff. I don't know how else to really categorize it. ^^;;
236.
Title: Fatherhood
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Isshin, Ryuuken, Kenpachi
Word Count: 802
Warning/s: No spoilers. Or at least, big ones. Some um, OOC sappy though.
Summary: What being a father means.
Dedication: My uncle- I have the kind of close family relations in which my uncle is less of an uncle and more like a second father. Sometimes good and sometimes bad, depending on you know, what happens. Double the praise, but double the punishment as well.^^;;
A/N: I was horrible this weekend and instead of writing, gorged myself on reading and re-reading some amazing Petshop of Horrors fanfiction. Bad me. ^^;; But yeah, I know this is kind of disjointed and the three of them probably have no business being in the same drabble EVER, but you know how I am with papas. So you know, this is my random sort of collage of papa-ness in Bleach as seen through my favorite Bleach daddies. ^^
For Kurosaki Isshin, fatherhood is the joy of having your children know that they’re stuck with you for life and have no say in the matter whatsoever.
For Ishida Ryuuken, fatherhood is the realization that what’s best for your child is not the same as what they think is best for them. Helping them towards learning and accepting that you have their best interests at heart is the longest, most difficult part of the journey. But, as he anticipates, it is well worth it should you succeed.
For Zaraki Kenpachi, fatherhood is watching her terrorize to her heart’s content and not stepping in or doing anything to help or hinder unless absolutely necessary, because the best part about being one of the strong ones is being able to test the limits of that strength on others and see how much you can grow from that encounter, how much one can learn from a self-dependent battle.
For Isshin, being a dad means Saturday morning excursions to shop for new clothes and pick out cute outfits for his girls while checking out mall-babes with his son, who doesn’t really do it with him, but who stands his company because as long as Isshin’s there talking to Ichigo about the babes, it means that he’s incapable of doing those things he’s talking about to those poor girls at the moment.
For Ryuuken, having a son means constant checks into Uryuu’s bank account to make sure he is provided for. He makes deposits in it at the end of every two weeks like clockwork, with very precise compensations or adjustments made for particular months, such as those when school fees are due or when the list price of certain foods he knows his son likes have risen due to unforeseeable circumstances such as crop failure or typhoons or international politics. Also, he makes sure on special months, say, months that have Uryuu’s birthday in them, that there is something a little extra on top of his calculations in those deposits in the hope that his son will maybe go out and have a nice dinner with friends should he (in the most likely case) not want to spend his special day with what family he has left.
For Kenpachi, having Yachiru means a constant bombardment of sweetly innocent questions that he doesn’t always know the answers to but is obligated to make some sort of response up for anyway, just because there’s something about the way she looks up at him as she asks those questions that makes it impossible for him to let her down by not knowing. That is currently why she believes that babies come from women who get drunk on special days of the week and that Ikkaku’s head has to be extra shiny so aliens can bounce signals off of it from space and take it as a sign that they aren’t allowed to invade seireitei.
For Isshin, having children is the ultimate product of the love he shared with Masaki and is in part, a powerful symbol that transcends her death and their separation in this lifetime. Karin, Yuzu and Ichigo are all the legacy of a love that will never die, the results of a perfect union between two people meant for one another.
For Ryuuken, Uryuu is the one thing in the world he wants to protect now. His son is the sole reason why he sits in a dark office alone for eleven hours a day only to come back to an equally dark, lonely house and the knowledge that tomorrow will be exactly the same thing all over again.
For Kenpachi, Yachiru’s presence in his life is the same as having a name for the first time, she the first person in his life to call him by one. The weight of her on his shoulders tells him that no matter what the world wants to throw at the two of them, they will always overcome by means of their superior strength and firepower. Back to back, no force in the universe can stop them.
For all of three of them, every day is its own special trial, every moment its own unique and irreplaceable experience. Each one of them goes through very different things under very different circumstances, but the thing that unites them all is the fact that they are fathers, that they are part of a family, and that, while always interesting, is never easy.
Isshin calls it a trial of a man’s burning love.
Ryuuken believes it is a duty of flesh and blood.
Kenpachi, at this point, can only see it as an instance of “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Whatever the case, each and every one of them knows that they wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
END
237.
Title: Day in and Day out
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuxYumi, Iba
Word Count: 992 (and this is AFTER I cut out 200+ words. O.o)
Warning/s: No spoilers, but OOC fluff/sap
Summary: Shuuhei and the beauty of routines.
Dedication: Everyone at ff.net who’s not harassing me in bad ways. Your feedback and support are much appreciated.^^
A/N: I felt like fluff. Just…lots of fluff. Last week was tiring. ^^;;
Iba is always telling Shuuhei that he really doesn’t understand the whole monogamy thing, not with guys as handsome as the two of them, who don’t have to worry about finding companionship on cold nights, who at their leisure, can pick and choose different people according to particular tastes at any one time.
And Shuuhei is always frowning at him for that, because he knows his friend is still trying to talk him out of something he sees as crazy.
Sticking with one person as Shuuhei’s been doing and all that.
But Shuuhei doesn’t get angry at the taller man for it, thinking that there are simply some things that Iba won’t be able to understand until he experiences them himself.
Because despite whether Shuuhei is good looking enough, despite the logic that he might be able to seduce many women into his bed, ultimately, it’s not a matter of can so much as won’t.
And Iba just doesn’t understand that, and never will until he experiences for himself, the things that are so great about coming back to the same person everyday.
Because the other man doesn’t yet realize the beauty of a familiar touch of skin or a well-mapped body curled up against his own, doesn’t now the satisfaction of a voice one knows all the littlest nuances of or the secret things one can learn about another person with time, the things that earn the softest sighs or most enthusiastic quivers.
And maybe that’s what Iba’s missing, which is the reason why Shuuhei can’t really be angry when the other man asks him what’s so great about going back everyday to Ayasekawa when there are a million women ready to warm his bed at will, all there for the picking.
Shuuhei thinks it’s because those million other women don’t have that ticklish spot on the back of their necks like Yumi does, the one that makes him laugh and squirm in the most delicious way, makes him sigh and breathe Shuuhei’s name whenever Hisagi takes it between his teeth or touches it with his tongue.
And those million other women don’t know the way Shuuhei likes to be kissed, open-mouthed and deep, or how he likes to leave love bites on perfect white throats and on the insides of soft-skinned thighs, a trail that marks possession despite the fact that no one else will ever see it.
They won’t sigh “I love you” in his ear when they come, or when they wake, or before they fall asleep, or just because, and they won’t know that he likes a morning roll in the sack, when he’s just waking up and warm and with Yumi there in his arms, his head perfectly tucked under Shuuhei’s chin.
And those strangers definitely wouldn’t pack him lunch and kiss him on his way out the door every morning, long and lingering and tasting like mint toothpaste or strawberry jam, depending on the time and whether they’re late considering how long that morning quickie took.
They won’t eat with him at dinner, at home after a long day and too tired for anything else. They won’t know that he doesn’t like ginger as much as garlic, won’t remember that he’s allergic to some seafood and that he only eats broccoli cooked and carrots raw and not the other way around.
They won’t look at him from over the rim of their teacups and know exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it, won’t climb into bed with him and just snuggle when they’re both tired, whispering about their days instead of having sex and somehow, managing to make that not boring at all.
Worst of all, if he took a different woman to bed with him every night, he wouldn’t have the way Yumi smells, warm and clean and familiar when he buries his nose into the curve of his neck and breathes deep, wouldn’t have the assurance that Yumi only sleeps on his left side and likes to stick his toes in-between Shuuhei’s calves on cold nights to keep them warm but designates two distinct halves of the bed to stay on when it’s too hot to be touching.
He wouldn’t have that sense of knowing every little detail, would lose that affection, warm and real, that he’s come to rely on after all this time together. And he thinks that Iba just won’t understand it until he forgets about those millions of women and maybe focuses on just one for a while. Then maybe he’ll be able to discover the joy of knowing someone better than he knows himself.
He brings it up with Yumi one day, when they’re lying together and not talking about anything particular, his fingers threading the other man’s hair. “Do you think Iba needs a girlfriend?”
Yumi snorts, and with Shuuhei’s other hand held in-between his, announces that Iba “needs a saint.”
Shuuhei smiles into Yumichika’s skin at that, and asks his lover if he knows anyone who might fit the bill.
Smirking, Yumi says that it’s too bad he’s already taken, but maybe he knows a few slightly less saintly-saints in another division.
They both pause for a moment, just idly stroking each other’s hands.
And then simultaneously, they grin and announce, “It would never work.”
Shuuhei chuckles at their shared conclusions and pulls Yumi closer, leaning forward for a rather bemused kiss, which Yumi obliges.
After a moment, the bemusement melts away into something more appreciative and in perfect harmony; Yumichika tilts his head back and parts his lips at the exact moment Shuuhei pushes forward in search of better access.
And as Shuuhei begins to delve into that sweetly familiar mouth, searching for all the spots that make Yumi shiver, he can’t help but think that Iba really is missing out on the best things in the world.
He hopes that one day his friend will be able to find them for himself too.
END
238.
Title: Thug Love
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Kira, Renji, Ikkaku, Iba, Shuuhei, Kenpachi
Word Count: 673
Warning/s: Sort-of spoilers by proxy for the Soul Society arc
Summary: Hardened thugs and booze and mahjong. And stuff.
Dedication: John, for the “barrel of squashed assholes”. ^^;;
A/N: I <3 Woobies. Plus I’ve been so terrible to Kira lately I figured I should maybe pamper him a little. Sort of.
“He’s drunk.”
“’m not drunk.”
Ikkaku scowled. “Ya are too.”
Kira scowled back. “Am not.”
The fact that Kira was scowling was enough to convince everyone that he was drunk.
Renji cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe ya shouldn’t have anymore of that, huh Kira?” he suggested, gesturing vaguely to the bottle clutched between both of the blonde’s hands.
“’m not drunk!” Izuru protested again, tears gathering in little pools atop his eyes.
The other four sucked in a collective breath.
“Look, we all know ya can’t exactly hold yer alcohol, Kira, so why don’t you…”
Iba was abruptly cut off as two twin teardrops trickled down the side of Izuru’s alcohol-flushed face.
“Ah geez,” Shuuhei sighed, looking away and turning a little red in the face himself at the sight.
“Well now ya’ve gone and done it,” Renji growled, glaring at Iba. “Ya made him cry.”
“Wadn’t my fault!” Iba growled back, though he looked properly shamed anyway. “Look Kira, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ta, well you know. I got your best interests at heart, don’t I?”
Kira wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand pathetically. And then sniffled.
Ikkaku visibly winced. “Oh fer cryin’ out loud, just let him have the booze, alright? He’s had a tough time of it all.”
Renji sighed. “Still, ain’t good for him,” he muttered, rubbing a small circle along Izuru’s back with one hand.
“S-sorry everyone,” Kira murmured, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Four handkerchiefs were immediately offered.
The blonde offered a watery smile and took one. The other three were returned to pockets but kept handy in case anyway. “S-sorry,” Izuru repeated, blowing his nose. “I don’t mean to make you all worry.”
“Ain’t your fault,” the other four replied in unison.
“Hey, how’s about we go over to senpai’s house and play some mahjong, yeah?” Renji offered after a second, surreptitiously guiding the sake bottle out of the blonde’s hand and leading him towards the doors.
“Yeah, yeah. That’d be fine,” Shuuhei agreed quickly, as Ikkaku swiped the bottle out of sight by angling it so it disappeared behind Iba’s larger frame.
Iba took the cue and slipped the bottle into his own hand, sidestepping and depositing it onto the ground behind his feet. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed solemnly. “Been a while since we all just sat ‘round and played a good game, right?”
“Course. Yeah,” Ikkaku agreed. “C’mon, we’ll go right now. That okay, Kira?”
Kira sniffed and wiped a little more at his eyes with the handkerchief and nodded. “Yeah…that sounds nice,” he allowed, looking up gamely, eyes relatively dry and a small smile managing to push through from the corners of his lips.
The other four sighed in relief. “Alright then, let’s go.”
Back at the bar, Zaraki Kenpachi stared after the quintet and wondered what happened to the golden age of the thug.
Though he had to admit that there was something about watching Kira Izuru cry that got him right…well, you know.
But still, that was no excuse to go and get all soft on a guy, pretty face or not. Fellas like those guys should be tougher than that, ‘specially Abarai, Iba, and Ikkaku, considering that they all had eleventh division blood in ‘em.
Kenpachi decided that maybe he’d give the idiots a stern talking to come morning.
He’d do it now if it were any other time, but it was really too late tonight, ‘specially since he had to get back to headquarters to put Yachiru down for the night, else she’d get fussy and be cranky with him all day tomorrow if he didn’t read to her and tuck her in right and proper like she liked.
Sighing, Kenpachi stood, paid his bar tab and left, thinking to himself that yeah, tomorrow he’d talk to the boys 'bout their little slip up.
Because really, no self-respecting badass should be caught dead bein’ all soft and sensitive like that.
Just made the world lose all respect for ‘em, ya know?
END
Edits as always, are very, very needed.
236.
Title: Fatherhood
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Isshin, Ryuuken, Kenpachi
Word Count: 802
Warning/s: No spoilers. Or at least, big ones. Some um, OOC sappy though.
Summary: What being a father means.
Dedication: My uncle- I have the kind of close family relations in which my uncle is less of an uncle and more like a second father. Sometimes good and sometimes bad, depending on you know, what happens. Double the praise, but double the punishment as well.^^;;
A/N: I was horrible this weekend and instead of writing, gorged myself on reading and re-reading some amazing Petshop of Horrors fanfiction. Bad me. ^^;; But yeah, I know this is kind of disjointed and the three of them probably have no business being in the same drabble EVER, but you know how I am with papas. So you know, this is my random sort of collage of papa-ness in Bleach as seen through my favorite Bleach daddies. ^^
For Kurosaki Isshin, fatherhood is the joy of having your children know that they’re stuck with you for life and have no say in the matter whatsoever.
For Ishida Ryuuken, fatherhood is the realization that what’s best for your child is not the same as what they think is best for them. Helping them towards learning and accepting that you have their best interests at heart is the longest, most difficult part of the journey. But, as he anticipates, it is well worth it should you succeed.
For Zaraki Kenpachi, fatherhood is watching her terrorize to her heart’s content and not stepping in or doing anything to help or hinder unless absolutely necessary, because the best part about being one of the strong ones is being able to test the limits of that strength on others and see how much you can grow from that encounter, how much one can learn from a self-dependent battle.
For Isshin, being a dad means Saturday morning excursions to shop for new clothes and pick out cute outfits for his girls while checking out mall-babes with his son, who doesn’t really do it with him, but who stands his company because as long as Isshin’s there talking to Ichigo about the babes, it means that he’s incapable of doing those things he’s talking about to those poor girls at the moment.
For Ryuuken, having a son means constant checks into Uryuu’s bank account to make sure he is provided for. He makes deposits in it at the end of every two weeks like clockwork, with very precise compensations or adjustments made for particular months, such as those when school fees are due or when the list price of certain foods he knows his son likes have risen due to unforeseeable circumstances such as crop failure or typhoons or international politics. Also, he makes sure on special months, say, months that have Uryuu’s birthday in them, that there is something a little extra on top of his calculations in those deposits in the hope that his son will maybe go out and have a nice dinner with friends should he (in the most likely case) not want to spend his special day with what family he has left.
For Kenpachi, having Yachiru means a constant bombardment of sweetly innocent questions that he doesn’t always know the answers to but is obligated to make some sort of response up for anyway, just because there’s something about the way she looks up at him as she asks those questions that makes it impossible for him to let her down by not knowing. That is currently why she believes that babies come from women who get drunk on special days of the week and that Ikkaku’s head has to be extra shiny so aliens can bounce signals off of it from space and take it as a sign that they aren’t allowed to invade seireitei.
For Isshin, having children is the ultimate product of the love he shared with Masaki and is in part, a powerful symbol that transcends her death and their separation in this lifetime. Karin, Yuzu and Ichigo are all the legacy of a love that will never die, the results of a perfect union between two people meant for one another.
For Ryuuken, Uryuu is the one thing in the world he wants to protect now. His son is the sole reason why he sits in a dark office alone for eleven hours a day only to come back to an equally dark, lonely house and the knowledge that tomorrow will be exactly the same thing all over again.
For Kenpachi, Yachiru’s presence in his life is the same as having a name for the first time, she the first person in his life to call him by one. The weight of her on his shoulders tells him that no matter what the world wants to throw at the two of them, they will always overcome by means of their superior strength and firepower. Back to back, no force in the universe can stop them.
For all of three of them, every day is its own special trial, every moment its own unique and irreplaceable experience. Each one of them goes through very different things under very different circumstances, but the thing that unites them all is the fact that they are fathers, that they are part of a family, and that, while always interesting, is never easy.
Isshin calls it a trial of a man’s burning love.
Ryuuken believes it is a duty of flesh and blood.
Kenpachi, at this point, can only see it as an instance of “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Whatever the case, each and every one of them knows that they wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
END
237.
Title: Day in and Day out
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuxYumi, Iba
Word Count: 992 (and this is AFTER I cut out 200+ words. O.o)
Warning/s: No spoilers, but OOC fluff/sap
Summary: Shuuhei and the beauty of routines.
Dedication: Everyone at ff.net who’s not harassing me in bad ways. Your feedback and support are much appreciated.^^
A/N: I felt like fluff. Just…lots of fluff. Last week was tiring. ^^;;
Iba is always telling Shuuhei that he really doesn’t understand the whole monogamy thing, not with guys as handsome as the two of them, who don’t have to worry about finding companionship on cold nights, who at their leisure, can pick and choose different people according to particular tastes at any one time.
And Shuuhei is always frowning at him for that, because he knows his friend is still trying to talk him out of something he sees as crazy.
Sticking with one person as Shuuhei’s been doing and all that.
But Shuuhei doesn’t get angry at the taller man for it, thinking that there are simply some things that Iba won’t be able to understand until he experiences them himself.
Because despite whether Shuuhei is good looking enough, despite the logic that he might be able to seduce many women into his bed, ultimately, it’s not a matter of can so much as won’t.
And Iba just doesn’t understand that, and never will until he experiences for himself, the things that are so great about coming back to the same person everyday.
Because the other man doesn’t yet realize the beauty of a familiar touch of skin or a well-mapped body curled up against his own, doesn’t now the satisfaction of a voice one knows all the littlest nuances of or the secret things one can learn about another person with time, the things that earn the softest sighs or most enthusiastic quivers.
And maybe that’s what Iba’s missing, which is the reason why Shuuhei can’t really be angry when the other man asks him what’s so great about going back everyday to Ayasekawa when there are a million women ready to warm his bed at will, all there for the picking.
Shuuhei thinks it’s because those million other women don’t have that ticklish spot on the back of their necks like Yumi does, the one that makes him laugh and squirm in the most delicious way, makes him sigh and breathe Shuuhei’s name whenever Hisagi takes it between his teeth or touches it with his tongue.
And those million other women don’t know the way Shuuhei likes to be kissed, open-mouthed and deep, or how he likes to leave love bites on perfect white throats and on the insides of soft-skinned thighs, a trail that marks possession despite the fact that no one else will ever see it.
They won’t sigh “I love you” in his ear when they come, or when they wake, or before they fall asleep, or just because, and they won’t know that he likes a morning roll in the sack, when he’s just waking up and warm and with Yumi there in his arms, his head perfectly tucked under Shuuhei’s chin.
And those strangers definitely wouldn’t pack him lunch and kiss him on his way out the door every morning, long and lingering and tasting like mint toothpaste or strawberry jam, depending on the time and whether they’re late considering how long that morning quickie took.
They won’t eat with him at dinner, at home after a long day and too tired for anything else. They won’t know that he doesn’t like ginger as much as garlic, won’t remember that he’s allergic to some seafood and that he only eats broccoli cooked and carrots raw and not the other way around.
They won’t look at him from over the rim of their teacups and know exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it, won’t climb into bed with him and just snuggle when they’re both tired, whispering about their days instead of having sex and somehow, managing to make that not boring at all.
Worst of all, if he took a different woman to bed with him every night, he wouldn’t have the way Yumi smells, warm and clean and familiar when he buries his nose into the curve of his neck and breathes deep, wouldn’t have the assurance that Yumi only sleeps on his left side and likes to stick his toes in-between Shuuhei’s calves on cold nights to keep them warm but designates two distinct halves of the bed to stay on when it’s too hot to be touching.
He wouldn’t have that sense of knowing every little detail, would lose that affection, warm and real, that he’s come to rely on after all this time together. And he thinks that Iba just won’t understand it until he forgets about those millions of women and maybe focuses on just one for a while. Then maybe he’ll be able to discover the joy of knowing someone better than he knows himself.
He brings it up with Yumi one day, when they’re lying together and not talking about anything particular, his fingers threading the other man’s hair. “Do you think Iba needs a girlfriend?”
Yumi snorts, and with Shuuhei’s other hand held in-between his, announces that Iba “needs a saint.”
Shuuhei smiles into Yumichika’s skin at that, and asks his lover if he knows anyone who might fit the bill.
Smirking, Yumi says that it’s too bad he’s already taken, but maybe he knows a few slightly less saintly-saints in another division.
They both pause for a moment, just idly stroking each other’s hands.
And then simultaneously, they grin and announce, “It would never work.”
Shuuhei chuckles at their shared conclusions and pulls Yumi closer, leaning forward for a rather bemused kiss, which Yumi obliges.
After a moment, the bemusement melts away into something more appreciative and in perfect harmony; Yumichika tilts his head back and parts his lips at the exact moment Shuuhei pushes forward in search of better access.
And as Shuuhei begins to delve into that sweetly familiar mouth, searching for all the spots that make Yumi shiver, he can’t help but think that Iba really is missing out on the best things in the world.
He hopes that one day his friend will be able to find them for himself too.
END
238.
Title: Thug Love
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Kira, Renji, Ikkaku, Iba, Shuuhei, Kenpachi
Word Count: 673
Warning/s: Sort-of spoilers by proxy for the Soul Society arc
Summary: Hardened thugs and booze and mahjong. And stuff.
Dedication: John, for the “barrel of squashed assholes”. ^^;;
A/N: I <3 Woobies. Plus I’ve been so terrible to Kira lately I figured I should maybe pamper him a little. Sort of.
“He’s drunk.”
“’m not drunk.”
Ikkaku scowled. “Ya are too.”
Kira scowled back. “Am not.”
The fact that Kira was scowling was enough to convince everyone that he was drunk.
Renji cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe ya shouldn’t have anymore of that, huh Kira?” he suggested, gesturing vaguely to the bottle clutched between both of the blonde’s hands.
“’m not drunk!” Izuru protested again, tears gathering in little pools atop his eyes.
The other four sucked in a collective breath.
“Look, we all know ya can’t exactly hold yer alcohol, Kira, so why don’t you…”
Iba was abruptly cut off as two twin teardrops trickled down the side of Izuru’s alcohol-flushed face.
“Ah geez,” Shuuhei sighed, looking away and turning a little red in the face himself at the sight.
“Well now ya’ve gone and done it,” Renji growled, glaring at Iba. “Ya made him cry.”
“Wadn’t my fault!” Iba growled back, though he looked properly shamed anyway. “Look Kira, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ta, well you know. I got your best interests at heart, don’t I?”
Kira wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand pathetically. And then sniffled.
Ikkaku visibly winced. “Oh fer cryin’ out loud, just let him have the booze, alright? He’s had a tough time of it all.”
Renji sighed. “Still, ain’t good for him,” he muttered, rubbing a small circle along Izuru’s back with one hand.
“S-sorry everyone,” Kira murmured, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Four handkerchiefs were immediately offered.
The blonde offered a watery smile and took one. The other three were returned to pockets but kept handy in case anyway. “S-sorry,” Izuru repeated, blowing his nose. “I don’t mean to make you all worry.”
“Ain’t your fault,” the other four replied in unison.
“Hey, how’s about we go over to senpai’s house and play some mahjong, yeah?” Renji offered after a second, surreptitiously guiding the sake bottle out of the blonde’s hand and leading him towards the doors.
“Yeah, yeah. That’d be fine,” Shuuhei agreed quickly, as Ikkaku swiped the bottle out of sight by angling it so it disappeared behind Iba’s larger frame.
Iba took the cue and slipped the bottle into his own hand, sidestepping and depositing it onto the ground behind his feet. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed solemnly. “Been a while since we all just sat ‘round and played a good game, right?”
“Course. Yeah,” Ikkaku agreed. “C’mon, we’ll go right now. That okay, Kira?”
Kira sniffed and wiped a little more at his eyes with the handkerchief and nodded. “Yeah…that sounds nice,” he allowed, looking up gamely, eyes relatively dry and a small smile managing to push through from the corners of his lips.
The other four sighed in relief. “Alright then, let’s go.”
Back at the bar, Zaraki Kenpachi stared after the quintet and wondered what happened to the golden age of the thug.
Though he had to admit that there was something about watching Kira Izuru cry that got him right…well, you know.
But still, that was no excuse to go and get all soft on a guy, pretty face or not. Fellas like those guys should be tougher than that, ‘specially Abarai, Iba, and Ikkaku, considering that they all had eleventh division blood in ‘em.
Kenpachi decided that maybe he’d give the idiots a stern talking to come morning.
He’d do it now if it were any other time, but it was really too late tonight, ‘specially since he had to get back to headquarters to put Yachiru down for the night, else she’d get fussy and be cranky with him all day tomorrow if he didn’t read to her and tuck her in right and proper like she liked.
Sighing, Kenpachi stood, paid his bar tab and left, thinking to himself that yeah, tomorrow he’d talk to the boys 'bout their little slip up.
Because really, no self-respecting badass should be caught dead bein’ all soft and sensitive like that.
Just made the world lose all respect for ‘em, ya know?
END
Edits as always, are very, very needed.