Bleach Drabble (472-474)
I R NOT DEAD? JUST STUPID.
472.
Title: Good Men
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika, Iba
Word Count: 998
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc.
Summary: Shuuhei always was a good man.
Dedication: Since I didn’t have any idea what to write, I let myself be inspired by the ever inspiring sophiap-thanks for the ideas, lovely! Also for ainbthen- glad you like the pairing!
A/N: Requested on my other journal. No prompt though, so hope this is okay. >>
Shuuhei had never considered himself a great man. Titles like that were reserved for men like Yamamoto-soutaichou and Tousen-taichou and etc., etc.-- men who had amazing abilities and a strong sense of honor and justice and goodness. Great men were men who changed the world with their own hands-strove to make it better.
Shuuhei never considered himself a great man because he wasn’t exceptional like that, because he did as he was told and behaved as he was expected and was certain that the men who were better than him would always be there to lead. Great men did that-good men followed.
Shuuhei considered himself a good man. He followed his orders, was never late, trained hard and worked hard and at the end of the day could be proud of the things he accomplished because they had been for someone great, someone who had more ability, more talent, more honor, more justice than him.
“What if their justice is different from your justice?” Iba asked drunkenly one night, when they were both a bit drunk and discussing anything that came to their minds. “You still follow it?”
“The nobler justice will always be the one that wins out in the end,” Shuuhei assured him, because that’s what Tousen told him, and Tousen was a great man. “Because it’s strong. That’s what you follow.”
Iba blinked blearily, and Shuuhei reminded himself that the man had been rescued from the eleventh division by Komamura only recently. “But like…what if someone’s justice is to um…kill babies, or something? And they’re strong, and they win? Does that mean they’re right and it’s right to kill babies?”
Shuuhei made a face. “Of course that’s not right. It’s not about strength-it’s about goodness,” Shuuhei assured him, though it was hard to try and explain something like that. Tousen was much better at it, which was why Shuuhei was only the vice-captain and not captain. “They wouldn’t win if that were their justice.”
Iba scowled, apparently dissatisfied with the explanation. “Well a good guy can be weak,” Iba told him. “And then he gets is ass kicked, and the way you’re sayin’ it, that would mean he’s wrong, ‘cuz he ain’t some great man or something. Even if what he believes in is good. Or right, or whatever’s the best word.”
Shuuhei patted his friend patiently. “That’s why you’n I aren’t great men,” he told the former eleventh divisioner. “We follow Komamura-taichou and Tousen-taichou because their justice is strong-it’s something they can back. We just have to believe in them because they’re better’n us.”
Iba scoffed. “That makes no fuckin’ sense. Only way they’re better’n us is ‘cuz they could beat us up, ain’t it? ‘S why they’re captains.”
Shuuhei sighed. “You’ve been in the eleventh too long,” he said, and figured that explained everything.
Iba just ordered another drink and they didn’t talk about it anymore that night.
But for a long time, Shuuhei really believed in everything he’d said. He didn’t need to be great himself because he served greatness, believed in a great man’s cause. Took up the sword for those ideals and for that man because by himself he was just a regular guy. A good man at best.
It took defeat on a rooftop and betrayal on a hilltop for Shuuhei to realize that maybe he’d been just like Iba all along-confusing strength and goodness. Using them interchangeably.
Tousen had seemed stronger than him, both in ability and conviction, and Shuuhei had wanted very much to believe that Tousen was as good as he was capable.
But he forgot that men who fought well didn’t always live well, that just because his captain could wield a sword didn’t mean he wasn’t subject to the things other, weaker men were as well. Greed, corruption, manipulation, lies.
Maybe Tousen Kaname hadn’t been the great man Shuuhei always thought he was.
“Is Zaraki a great man?” he asked Yumichika one day, because he’d searched all over seireitei after his captain’s betrayal and found the universe to be backwards and upside down ever since. Everything wasn’t as it had once seemed.
“Of course he is,” Ayasegawa sniffed, as though the answer should be obvious.
“Why?” Shuuhei asked, and pulled Yumi closer. For some reason he needed an answer-any kind. Something to hold on to.
“Because he doesn’t know it,” Yumichika twittered, like it was some sort of joke. “Because he's never tried to convince anyone he is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shuuhei murmured with furrowed brow, and didn’t quite follow.
“You should know already, I think,” Yumi told him, and seemed more than bored with the subject as it was. “Kiss me.”
Shuuhei did as he was told. When they pulled apart, he kept on. “How should I know?”
“You two are the same that way, aren’t you?”
Shuuhei blinked-felt his mouth go oddly dry because he knew what Yumichika was implying but at the same time, had no idea. “What?”
Yumichika laughed at him then, kissed him again. “Great men can also be stupid men, unfortunately,” he sing-songed, and stroked Shuuhei’s stomach. “Don’t think about it.”
Shuuhei submitted to the touch, kissed Yumi languidly but continued to tell him, “You’re wrong. I’m not.”
Yumi just sighed and let the vice-captain insist whatever it was he was insisting, because every time Shuuhei did it was just more proof that Yumi-as always-was right. Besides, there were more interesting things to pay attention to below the waist at the moment, and if Shuuhei was going to be stubborn, Yumichika would simply have to prove the silly man wrong one step at a time.
By the time he was done-by the time they were both done-Yumichika had at least succeeded in convincing his lover that he was a good man capable of great (toe-curling) things.
Even if it meant being not-so-good every now and again, when they were both late for work afterwards.
END
473.
Title: Thigh High
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Yumi, Ikkaku, Shuuhei, (mentions of Ikkira and Shuumi)
Word Count: 998
Warning/s: Spoilers for the chapters like, immediately following the end of the SS arc. I forget numbers.
Summary: Yumichika needs a shorter skirt.
Dedication: sw_inku-because I know drawing some things hurts your heart. XD Also, requested by west_side.
A/N: requested on my other lj. The prompt was “School uniforms.”
“You can’t wear that, dumbass.”
Yumi sniffed. “Why not? I think I look good.”
“He looks good,” Shuuhei agreed, and didn’t take his eyes off the fifth seat for a second.
Ikkaku rolled his eyes-ignored Hisagi. “Because this is a covert mission, goddammit. Nothin’ covert about a drag queen showin’ up in the middle of the school.”
Yumi made a face. “Please. I’m not anywhere near that garish. You’re closer, what with the eye shadow and all.”
“He looks good,” Shuuhei pointed out again, and transfixed eyes followed the seductive sway of hips as Yumichika pirouetted in front of the mirror again, causing the skirt of his school uniform to blossom out invitingly around the tops of his knees. Shuuhei sighed, happily.
“What do you think about the bow, Shuu? I don’t know, I think it’s better than the tie, if you ask me.”
“Bow’s good,” Shuuhei agreed automatically, though he wasn’t really looking at it.
Ikkaku slapped a hand to his forehead. “And I get accused of havin’ a one track mind. Fuck’s sake, man, think about this will ya? Somethin’ like Yumi in a girl’s outfit? Totally blow our cover. They’ll know we ain’t regular high school students the moment we step through the goddamned door.”
“You’re bald,” Yumichika reminded him, pausing in his bow-fluffing to give Ikkaku a significant look over his shoulder.
“Shaved,” Ikkaku corrected him with a growl.
Yumi twittered. “Naughty.”
“Shut the fuck up, that’s not what I meant.”
“I like the socks too,” Shuuhei murmured, and wasn’t paying attention to what was being said at all.
“Admit it, Ikkaku… I look cute,” Yumi prompted, and put his hands on his hips. “It suits me.”
Ikkaku rolled his eyes. “That’s not the fuckin’ point Yumi…”
“What if Kira were wearing it?” the fifth seat pushed stubbornly. “You’d have pushed the skirt up right around his hips the first second you saw him and…”
Shuuhei’s nose exploded in a shower of blood. “’scuse me,” he murmured, and pressed a palm to his face before going off in search of tissue. He stopped in the doorway for a second though, turned to Ikkaku. “Be gone when I get back.”
“Whatever,” the third seat grunted, and tried not to think about what kind of perverted thoughts had to be going through Hisagi’s head right about now.
He turned back to Yumi instead. “Don’t try to change the subject, bastard… Kira’s not…” Pause.
Yeah, okay… on second thought Kira might look pretty…good.
“Huh,” Ikkaku grunted, and felt his mind shut off when he pictured it. Those were pretty nice socks.
Yumichika heard the gears in his friend’s head grind to a perverted halt.
“See?” the pretty shinigami purred, and turned back to the mirror in a very self-satisfied way. “It’s only natural.”
Ikkaku wiped drool from the corner of his mouth. Set his jaw next-more determined than ever now. “I’m tellin’ you, Yumi!! Put the goddamned guy’s uniform on and shut the fuck up about it. Draw attention for fifty miles away the way you’re goin’. And besides, that skirt length ain’t for shorties like you anyway! Little thing like you looks like yer playin’ dress up in your momma’s clothes or something.”
Yumi frowned and looked down, examining his hem. “I need a shorter one?”
“Well you’re shorter, ain’tcha?” Ikkaku reminded him, and crossed his arms.
Yumi sighed. “Well, I suppose you’re not wrong there. The less clothing on me the better I look.”
The bald death god stood up a little bit straighter, tried to ignore that last comment and sound properly authoritative. “Er… glad you’re seein’ things my way…finally. I guess.”
Yumi rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll put the guy’s uniform on. But I still maintain that these socks are much more fun-and naughty-- than the boring ones that go with the loafers.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get the hell on with it, will ya?”
The fifth seat complied with a little sniff, and soon had returned to a normal looking-as normal as he’d get anyway-male uniform. “There… happy?”
“Perfectly,” Ikkaku told him, and scooped up the neatly folded girl’s uniform. “Gonna go return this to research and tech. Before you uh, change your mind or something.”
Yumi eyed him suspiciously, just about to say something on the matter, but was cut off when Shuuhei stumbled back into the room, tissue paper stuffed into his left nostril. “I’m back! I’m back!”
He paused, blinked at Ikkaku when he saw him. “You’re…”
“Right, I’m gone,” Ikkaku assured the vice-captain, and slid hastily out the door, girl’s uniform tucked securely up under one arm.
“What’s this?” Kira asked sometime later, wrinkling his nose in a perplexed manner as he held up the shirt and bow Ikkaku had just now presented him with up in front of his face.
Ikkaku grinned. “Try it on.”
Kira blinked at the vague answer. “Waitaminute…is that a skirt?”
“Mid-thigh, baby!” Ikkaku whooped anticipatorily, and pushed Kira into the bathroom to change.
Kira sighed. It was Ikkaku’s last night before the group departed to Karakura, he supposed.
“He’s lucky I look good in these,” the blond muttered to himself, and took off his pants.
Meanwhile, Shuuhei mourned the loss of the skirt heavily, but figured he preferred Yumichika naked anyway.
Besides, Yumi needed a shorter one to live up to full skirt-potential.
Maybe Shuuhei would buy him one when he got back. You know. A welcome home present.
That’d be nice.
“Mid-thigh?” he murmured into Yumichika’s ear, and the fifth seat laughed.
“Mid-thigh,” Yumi agreed, happily.
Shuuhei groaned and buried his face into the other man’s neck. “Come home soon.”
“I’m not gone yet,” Yumi whispered, and proceeded to prove it.
Shuuhei’s last thought before he wasn’t able to think anymore was that he hoped-- for Ikkaku’s sake-- that the third seat was getting half as good a send off as he was.
And that Kira looked as good in a skirt as Shuuhei suspected he would.
END
474.
Title: Ruined for Women
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Nanao, Matsumoto, Nemu, Isane, Yachiru, Kiyone.
Word Count: 919
Warning/s: No spoilers, just OOC and Crack. I can’t write Nemu.
Summary: It’s all Matsumoto’s fault.
Dedication: JAB- BOOBS. (AND GAY PORN YOU BASTARD.) Also, requested (sort of) by skadhelias.
A/N: requested by skadhelias on my other lj. The prompt was “Shinigami women’s association and yaoi couples.” >> I AM LAME.
“We have to look at this logically,” Nanao announced to everyone in an authoritative manner, the eighth division vice-captain holding out the charts she’d made earlier with a decisive flourish.
Matsumoto blinked. “You made charts?”
“To be logical,” Nanao reiterated, primly. “We can’t just go about this from any angle with no set course, you know.”
“They’re very nice charts,” Nemu said dully, and by the tone of her voice no one knew if she was talking just to say something or if she actually meant it.
“How do you look at something like this logically?” Isane posed sensibly. “I mean, matters of the heart aren’t something that can be charted, are they?”
Nanao sniffed. “They can be if it’s done meticulously.”
No one argued about Ise-fukutaichou’s meticulousness.
“So?” Matsumoto pushed, and leaned back so she could pour herself a glass of liquor from the hip flask she’d gotten from Renji for her birthday. Useful little thing, but nowhere near big enough for her as far as she was concerned.
Nanao eyed the lounging blond and twitched a bit. “Well,” she began, slowly, “in all honesty, I think you’re partially to blame for all this, Matsumoto.”
Rangiku snorted-sprayed some booze in a little shower over Nanao’s carefully charted out diagrams when she did. “Me? How?”
Yachiru tugged on Nanao’s sleeve. “Are we gonna talk about cupcakes now?”
“Soon,” Nanao promised her, and adjusted her glasses again. Back to the matter at hand-this had to be Rangiku’s fault.
“The hell is it my fault?” the tenth division shinigami pushed, and wiped the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand before wiping it off on the side of her hakama.
“Well if you look at things,” Nanao began, clinically, “Ikkaku, Shuuhei, Ichimaru-taichou, Renji… all had, at one point or another, voiced admiration towards your…” the eighth division vice-captain’s eyes strayed very slightly in the direction of Matsumoto’s chest, “…character.”
Rangiku belched. “Oh, ‘scuse me. Yeah, and? The hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Gateway drug theory?” Nemu posed out of the blue, and really, to look at her no one would have known that she’d been paying attention to the conversation as much as she’d been to the paint peeling from the wall beside her.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Nanao concluded, nonplussed.
Rangiku blinked. “That makes no sense.” She gave up on pouring more shots and just took a pull right out of the flask before continuing. “I didn’t do nothin’ to those idiots. Ever.”
“And doesn’t account for um… Kira and um, Yumichika. Or Kuchiki-taichou,” Isane added, thoughtfully.
Nanao shrugged. “Nature is responsible for those three if you ask me.”
Isane blinked. “Well, I guess that…I mean…” Pause. “They’re all very pretty.”
“Again I ask, the hell does this have to do with me?” Rangiku demanded impatiently, and slapped a hand against her thigh. “Like I said, I never touched one of ‘em.”
“Which might have been the problem,” Nanao told her. “You were appealing to them because physically you’re quite…” she gestured towards Matsumoto’s chest, “…feminine. But inwardly you’ve got…” she glanced at the booze then, “traits they would perhaps associate with their own. They must have found that a surprising-tempting-combination.”
“So then Ise-san is saying… they got to thinking,” Isane continued, when she picked up on where this was going, “and figured maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to date someone more like them than like… well… us? And um…forgot about the physical part in light of that?”
“Precisely,” Nanao agreed, and looked rather pleased with how well her theory had caught on.
Matsumoto sighed. “Anyone ever figure they just are ‘cuz they are?”
“Yumi-pon can only date ‘handsome’ not ‘beautiful’!” Yachiru offered helpfully. “He says he wants someone who compliments him’n not wilts in the shadow of his loveliness,” the little vice-captain recited, like she’d been specially trained.
For all anyone knew, she probably had been.
“I drew a pony!” she added after she was finished, and pointed to the carefully scrawled out likeness she’d drawn right on top of one of Nanao’s meticulous charts.
“That’s very nice,” Isane offered kindly.
“But anatomically incorrect,” Nemu corrected, clinically.
“Can we please focus?” Nanao urged, impatient. “I think my theory holds some validity and…”
Rangiku slammed her shot glass down on the table in protest to that. “Oi!” she shouted, and pushed back her chair so she could stand up. “I’m telling you, it’s not my fault!” the blond insisted, putting two hands on her hips and puffing up in righteous indignation. She took a deep breath. “I never once gave any of those… the hell are you all looking at?”
Everyone stared at her chest.
“Likin’ people who’re more like them, over the physical eh?” Kiyone drawled, and sounded skeptical as her eyes watched the blonde’s considerable assets resettle themselves. “Bullshit.”
Isane cleared her throat and quickly averted her eyes down at the table, blushing a little. “M-maybe it wasn’t Rangiku-san’s fault after all then, ne? I mean…” pause, “…she’s very pretty.”
Nanao adjusted her glasses-again. Stood a little straighter and coughed, not mourning the complete dissolution of her hypothesis at a mere sway and bounce in the slightest. “Well. It was just a theory, you know.”
A beat.
“That’s not anatomically correct,” Nemu stated after a moment.
Nanao supposed it was just about the perfect time to switch the topic of discussion to cupcakes, as their Madame President had suggested earlier.
Yachiru naturally, was delighted.
END
EDITS PLZ.
472.
Title: Good Men
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika, Iba
Word Count: 998
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc.
Summary: Shuuhei always was a good man.
Dedication: Since I didn’t have any idea what to write, I let myself be inspired by the ever inspiring sophiap-thanks for the ideas, lovely! Also for ainbthen- glad you like the pairing!
A/N: Requested on my other journal. No prompt though, so hope this is okay. >>
Shuuhei had never considered himself a great man. Titles like that were reserved for men like Yamamoto-soutaichou and Tousen-taichou and etc., etc.-- men who had amazing abilities and a strong sense of honor and justice and goodness. Great men were men who changed the world with their own hands-strove to make it better.
Shuuhei never considered himself a great man because he wasn’t exceptional like that, because he did as he was told and behaved as he was expected and was certain that the men who were better than him would always be there to lead. Great men did that-good men followed.
Shuuhei considered himself a good man. He followed his orders, was never late, trained hard and worked hard and at the end of the day could be proud of the things he accomplished because they had been for someone great, someone who had more ability, more talent, more honor, more justice than him.
“What if their justice is different from your justice?” Iba asked drunkenly one night, when they were both a bit drunk and discussing anything that came to their minds. “You still follow it?”
“The nobler justice will always be the one that wins out in the end,” Shuuhei assured him, because that’s what Tousen told him, and Tousen was a great man. “Because it’s strong. That’s what you follow.”
Iba blinked blearily, and Shuuhei reminded himself that the man had been rescued from the eleventh division by Komamura only recently. “But like…what if someone’s justice is to um…kill babies, or something? And they’re strong, and they win? Does that mean they’re right and it’s right to kill babies?”
Shuuhei made a face. “Of course that’s not right. It’s not about strength-it’s about goodness,” Shuuhei assured him, though it was hard to try and explain something like that. Tousen was much better at it, which was why Shuuhei was only the vice-captain and not captain. “They wouldn’t win if that were their justice.”
Iba scowled, apparently dissatisfied with the explanation. “Well a good guy can be weak,” Iba told him. “And then he gets is ass kicked, and the way you’re sayin’ it, that would mean he’s wrong, ‘cuz he ain’t some great man or something. Even if what he believes in is good. Or right, or whatever’s the best word.”
Shuuhei patted his friend patiently. “That’s why you’n I aren’t great men,” he told the former eleventh divisioner. “We follow Komamura-taichou and Tousen-taichou because their justice is strong-it’s something they can back. We just have to believe in them because they’re better’n us.”
Iba scoffed. “That makes no fuckin’ sense. Only way they’re better’n us is ‘cuz they could beat us up, ain’t it? ‘S why they’re captains.”
Shuuhei sighed. “You’ve been in the eleventh too long,” he said, and figured that explained everything.
Iba just ordered another drink and they didn’t talk about it anymore that night.
But for a long time, Shuuhei really believed in everything he’d said. He didn’t need to be great himself because he served greatness, believed in a great man’s cause. Took up the sword for those ideals and for that man because by himself he was just a regular guy. A good man at best.
It took defeat on a rooftop and betrayal on a hilltop for Shuuhei to realize that maybe he’d been just like Iba all along-confusing strength and goodness. Using them interchangeably.
Tousen had seemed stronger than him, both in ability and conviction, and Shuuhei had wanted very much to believe that Tousen was as good as he was capable.
But he forgot that men who fought well didn’t always live well, that just because his captain could wield a sword didn’t mean he wasn’t subject to the things other, weaker men were as well. Greed, corruption, manipulation, lies.
Maybe Tousen Kaname hadn’t been the great man Shuuhei always thought he was.
“Is Zaraki a great man?” he asked Yumichika one day, because he’d searched all over seireitei after his captain’s betrayal and found the universe to be backwards and upside down ever since. Everything wasn’t as it had once seemed.
“Of course he is,” Ayasegawa sniffed, as though the answer should be obvious.
“Why?” Shuuhei asked, and pulled Yumi closer. For some reason he needed an answer-any kind. Something to hold on to.
“Because he doesn’t know it,” Yumichika twittered, like it was some sort of joke. “Because he's never tried to convince anyone he is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shuuhei murmured with furrowed brow, and didn’t quite follow.
“You should know already, I think,” Yumi told him, and seemed more than bored with the subject as it was. “Kiss me.”
Shuuhei did as he was told. When they pulled apart, he kept on. “How should I know?”
“You two are the same that way, aren’t you?”
Shuuhei blinked-felt his mouth go oddly dry because he knew what Yumichika was implying but at the same time, had no idea. “What?”
Yumichika laughed at him then, kissed him again. “Great men can also be stupid men, unfortunately,” he sing-songed, and stroked Shuuhei’s stomach. “Don’t think about it.”
Shuuhei submitted to the touch, kissed Yumi languidly but continued to tell him, “You’re wrong. I’m not.”
Yumi just sighed and let the vice-captain insist whatever it was he was insisting, because every time Shuuhei did it was just more proof that Yumi-as always-was right. Besides, there were more interesting things to pay attention to below the waist at the moment, and if Shuuhei was going to be stubborn, Yumichika would simply have to prove the silly man wrong one step at a time.
By the time he was done-by the time they were both done-Yumichika had at least succeeded in convincing his lover that he was a good man capable of great (toe-curling) things.
Even if it meant being not-so-good every now and again, when they were both late for work afterwards.
END
473.
Title: Thigh High
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Yumi, Ikkaku, Shuuhei, (mentions of Ikkira and Shuumi)
Word Count: 998
Warning/s: Spoilers for the chapters like, immediately following the end of the SS arc. I forget numbers.
Summary: Yumichika needs a shorter skirt.
Dedication: sw_inku-because I know drawing some things hurts your heart. XD Also, requested by west_side.
A/N: requested on my other lj. The prompt was “School uniforms.”
“You can’t wear that, dumbass.”
Yumi sniffed. “Why not? I think I look good.”
“He looks good,” Shuuhei agreed, and didn’t take his eyes off the fifth seat for a second.
Ikkaku rolled his eyes-ignored Hisagi. “Because this is a covert mission, goddammit. Nothin’ covert about a drag queen showin’ up in the middle of the school.”
Yumi made a face. “Please. I’m not anywhere near that garish. You’re closer, what with the eye shadow and all.”
“He looks good,” Shuuhei pointed out again, and transfixed eyes followed the seductive sway of hips as Yumichika pirouetted in front of the mirror again, causing the skirt of his school uniform to blossom out invitingly around the tops of his knees. Shuuhei sighed, happily.
“What do you think about the bow, Shuu? I don’t know, I think it’s better than the tie, if you ask me.”
“Bow’s good,” Shuuhei agreed automatically, though he wasn’t really looking at it.
Ikkaku slapped a hand to his forehead. “And I get accused of havin’ a one track mind. Fuck’s sake, man, think about this will ya? Somethin’ like Yumi in a girl’s outfit? Totally blow our cover. They’ll know we ain’t regular high school students the moment we step through the goddamned door.”
“You’re bald,” Yumichika reminded him, pausing in his bow-fluffing to give Ikkaku a significant look over his shoulder.
“Shaved,” Ikkaku corrected him with a growl.
Yumi twittered. “Naughty.”
“Shut the fuck up, that’s not what I meant.”
“I like the socks too,” Shuuhei murmured, and wasn’t paying attention to what was being said at all.
“Admit it, Ikkaku… I look cute,” Yumi prompted, and put his hands on his hips. “It suits me.”
Ikkaku rolled his eyes. “That’s not the fuckin’ point Yumi…”
“What if Kira were wearing it?” the fifth seat pushed stubbornly. “You’d have pushed the skirt up right around his hips the first second you saw him and…”
Shuuhei’s nose exploded in a shower of blood. “’scuse me,” he murmured, and pressed a palm to his face before going off in search of tissue. He stopped in the doorway for a second though, turned to Ikkaku. “Be gone when I get back.”
“Whatever,” the third seat grunted, and tried not to think about what kind of perverted thoughts had to be going through Hisagi’s head right about now.
He turned back to Yumi instead. “Don’t try to change the subject, bastard… Kira’s not…” Pause.
Yeah, okay… on second thought Kira might look pretty…good.
“Huh,” Ikkaku grunted, and felt his mind shut off when he pictured it. Those were pretty nice socks.
Yumichika heard the gears in his friend’s head grind to a perverted halt.
“See?” the pretty shinigami purred, and turned back to the mirror in a very self-satisfied way. “It’s only natural.”
Ikkaku wiped drool from the corner of his mouth. Set his jaw next-more determined than ever now. “I’m tellin’ you, Yumi!! Put the goddamned guy’s uniform on and shut the fuck up about it. Draw attention for fifty miles away the way you’re goin’. And besides, that skirt length ain’t for shorties like you anyway! Little thing like you looks like yer playin’ dress up in your momma’s clothes or something.”
Yumi frowned and looked down, examining his hem. “I need a shorter one?”
“Well you’re shorter, ain’tcha?” Ikkaku reminded him, and crossed his arms.
Yumi sighed. “Well, I suppose you’re not wrong there. The less clothing on me the better I look.”
The bald death god stood up a little bit straighter, tried to ignore that last comment and sound properly authoritative. “Er… glad you’re seein’ things my way…finally. I guess.”
Yumi rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll put the guy’s uniform on. But I still maintain that these socks are much more fun-and naughty-- than the boring ones that go with the loafers.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get the hell on with it, will ya?”
The fifth seat complied with a little sniff, and soon had returned to a normal looking-as normal as he’d get anyway-male uniform. “There… happy?”
“Perfectly,” Ikkaku told him, and scooped up the neatly folded girl’s uniform. “Gonna go return this to research and tech. Before you uh, change your mind or something.”
Yumi eyed him suspiciously, just about to say something on the matter, but was cut off when Shuuhei stumbled back into the room, tissue paper stuffed into his left nostril. “I’m back! I’m back!”
He paused, blinked at Ikkaku when he saw him. “You’re…”
“Right, I’m gone,” Ikkaku assured the vice-captain, and slid hastily out the door, girl’s uniform tucked securely up under one arm.
“What’s this?” Kira asked sometime later, wrinkling his nose in a perplexed manner as he held up the shirt and bow Ikkaku had just now presented him with up in front of his face.
Ikkaku grinned. “Try it on.”
Kira blinked at the vague answer. “Waitaminute…is that a skirt?”
“Mid-thigh, baby!” Ikkaku whooped anticipatorily, and pushed Kira into the bathroom to change.
Kira sighed. It was Ikkaku’s last night before the group departed to Karakura, he supposed.
“He’s lucky I look good in these,” the blond muttered to himself, and took off his pants.
Meanwhile, Shuuhei mourned the loss of the skirt heavily, but figured he preferred Yumichika naked anyway.
Besides, Yumi needed a shorter one to live up to full skirt-potential.
Maybe Shuuhei would buy him one when he got back. You know. A welcome home present.
That’d be nice.
“Mid-thigh?” he murmured into Yumichika’s ear, and the fifth seat laughed.
“Mid-thigh,” Yumi agreed, happily.
Shuuhei groaned and buried his face into the other man’s neck. “Come home soon.”
“I’m not gone yet,” Yumi whispered, and proceeded to prove it.
Shuuhei’s last thought before he wasn’t able to think anymore was that he hoped-- for Ikkaku’s sake-- that the third seat was getting half as good a send off as he was.
And that Kira looked as good in a skirt as Shuuhei suspected he would.
END
474.
Title: Ruined for Women
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Nanao, Matsumoto, Nemu, Isane, Yachiru, Kiyone.
Word Count: 919
Warning/s: No spoilers, just OOC and Crack. I can’t write Nemu.
Summary: It’s all Matsumoto’s fault.
Dedication: JAB- BOOBS. (AND GAY PORN YOU BASTARD.) Also, requested (sort of) by skadhelias.
A/N: requested by skadhelias on my other lj. The prompt was “Shinigami women’s association and yaoi couples.” >> I AM LAME.
“We have to look at this logically,” Nanao announced to everyone in an authoritative manner, the eighth division vice-captain holding out the charts she’d made earlier with a decisive flourish.
Matsumoto blinked. “You made charts?”
“To be logical,” Nanao reiterated, primly. “We can’t just go about this from any angle with no set course, you know.”
“They’re very nice charts,” Nemu said dully, and by the tone of her voice no one knew if she was talking just to say something or if she actually meant it.
“How do you look at something like this logically?” Isane posed sensibly. “I mean, matters of the heart aren’t something that can be charted, are they?”
Nanao sniffed. “They can be if it’s done meticulously.”
No one argued about Ise-fukutaichou’s meticulousness.
“So?” Matsumoto pushed, and leaned back so she could pour herself a glass of liquor from the hip flask she’d gotten from Renji for her birthday. Useful little thing, but nowhere near big enough for her as far as she was concerned.
Nanao eyed the lounging blond and twitched a bit. “Well,” she began, slowly, “in all honesty, I think you’re partially to blame for all this, Matsumoto.”
Rangiku snorted-sprayed some booze in a little shower over Nanao’s carefully charted out diagrams when she did. “Me? How?”
Yachiru tugged on Nanao’s sleeve. “Are we gonna talk about cupcakes now?”
“Soon,” Nanao promised her, and adjusted her glasses again. Back to the matter at hand-this had to be Rangiku’s fault.
“The hell is it my fault?” the tenth division shinigami pushed, and wiped the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand before wiping it off on the side of her hakama.
“Well if you look at things,” Nanao began, clinically, “Ikkaku, Shuuhei, Ichimaru-taichou, Renji… all had, at one point or another, voiced admiration towards your…” the eighth division vice-captain’s eyes strayed very slightly in the direction of Matsumoto’s chest, “…character.”
Rangiku belched. “Oh, ‘scuse me. Yeah, and? The hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Gateway drug theory?” Nemu posed out of the blue, and really, to look at her no one would have known that she’d been paying attention to the conversation as much as she’d been to the paint peeling from the wall beside her.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Nanao concluded, nonplussed.
Rangiku blinked. “That makes no sense.” She gave up on pouring more shots and just took a pull right out of the flask before continuing. “I didn’t do nothin’ to those idiots. Ever.”
“And doesn’t account for um… Kira and um, Yumichika. Or Kuchiki-taichou,” Isane added, thoughtfully.
Nanao shrugged. “Nature is responsible for those three if you ask me.”
Isane blinked. “Well, I guess that…I mean…” Pause. “They’re all very pretty.”
“Again I ask, the hell does this have to do with me?” Rangiku demanded impatiently, and slapped a hand against her thigh. “Like I said, I never touched one of ‘em.”
“Which might have been the problem,” Nanao told her. “You were appealing to them because physically you’re quite…” she gestured towards Matsumoto’s chest, “…feminine. But inwardly you’ve got…” she glanced at the booze then, “traits they would perhaps associate with their own. They must have found that a surprising-tempting-combination.”
“So then Ise-san is saying… they got to thinking,” Isane continued, when she picked up on where this was going, “and figured maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to date someone more like them than like… well… us? And um…forgot about the physical part in light of that?”
“Precisely,” Nanao agreed, and looked rather pleased with how well her theory had caught on.
Matsumoto sighed. “Anyone ever figure they just are ‘cuz they are?”
“Yumi-pon can only date ‘handsome’ not ‘beautiful’!” Yachiru offered helpfully. “He says he wants someone who compliments him’n not wilts in the shadow of his loveliness,” the little vice-captain recited, like she’d been specially trained.
For all anyone knew, she probably had been.
“I drew a pony!” she added after she was finished, and pointed to the carefully scrawled out likeness she’d drawn right on top of one of Nanao’s meticulous charts.
“That’s very nice,” Isane offered kindly.
“But anatomically incorrect,” Nemu corrected, clinically.
“Can we please focus?” Nanao urged, impatient. “I think my theory holds some validity and…”
Rangiku slammed her shot glass down on the table in protest to that. “Oi!” she shouted, and pushed back her chair so she could stand up. “I’m telling you, it’s not my fault!” the blond insisted, putting two hands on her hips and puffing up in righteous indignation. She took a deep breath. “I never once gave any of those… the hell are you all looking at?”
Everyone stared at her chest.
“Likin’ people who’re more like them, over the physical eh?” Kiyone drawled, and sounded skeptical as her eyes watched the blonde’s considerable assets resettle themselves. “Bullshit.”
Isane cleared her throat and quickly averted her eyes down at the table, blushing a little. “M-maybe it wasn’t Rangiku-san’s fault after all then, ne? I mean…” pause, “…she’s very pretty.”
Nanao adjusted her glasses-again. Stood a little straighter and coughed, not mourning the complete dissolution of her hypothesis at a mere sway and bounce in the slightest. “Well. It was just a theory, you know.”
A beat.
“That’s not anatomically correct,” Nemu stated after a moment.
Nanao supposed it was just about the perfect time to switch the topic of discussion to cupcakes, as their Madame President had suggested earlier.
Yachiru naturally, was delighted.
END
EDITS PLZ.