Older, Not Dead: #2, #25 {Shunsui/Kenpachi/Jushiro}
Title: A Little Comfort
Pairing: Shunsui/Kenpachi/Jushiro, leans more towards Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 400
Summary: Shunsui doesn't expect Kenpachi to be with Jushiro throughout the mourning, but then again, his assumptions about the man are more often than not incorrect.
A/N: Written for prompt #2: hug of ot3_100.
As a gust of wind, cold and bitter, whipped the single fringe of his hair, Shunsui could only watch his best friend's coat billowing about him. The man himself stood unmoving, unfazed as if he was the only one there. Oblivious to Shunsui's concerns, his worries, Jushiro was as silent as the grave he now stood before, head bent in prayer. Or was it sorrow? Shunsui guessed it was both, for the only thing that could render Jushiro to a quiet, utterly speechless mass was nothing but death. He may be old, matured, experienced, but he was still just another shinigami, regardless of rank. He had his limits.
Sentaro and Kiyone were nowhere to be seen, which was just as well since all they managed to conjure up were arguments, quarrels and more arguments. Granted, Shunsui had told them to stay at bay for this one time, but he was rather surprised to see that they actually listened to him.
It felt like hours standing there, watching Jushiro's back, engulfed within a heavy silence. Many times Shunsui wanted to break it, to take Jushiro in his arms and reassure him, but he restrained himself. It was hard, but he managed, occupying his mind with thoughts of their other companion, the one who Shunsui planned to berate the moment he stepped out of that graveyard. He knew the man didn't give much of a damn about death, how his division was always so violent and brutal. But then again, the battlefield was their playground - Shunsui should have known better than to hope for him to show up.
A rustle of grass underfoot, and Jushiro turned his back on the grave. With his head still bent, he took fast paces away, past Shunsui, not even bothering to look up to acknowledge his best friend. Shunsui controlled himself, deciding to just walk a few paces behind him
"Done yet?" And there stood Kenpachi, a scowl in place. Jushiro froze, Shunsui nearly bumping into him. "Ain't no use rememberin' the dead, Ukitake. It'll only make things worse an' fuck ye over."
Shunsui hardened his gaze, slightly shaking his head as a signal to Kenpachi to keep his damned mouth shut. But then, much to his surprise, Jushiro walked straight into Kenpachi's embrace, the younger captain instinctively wrapping his arms around him. At Kenpachi's reassuring grin, Shunsui breathed a relieved sigh.
The man did show up after all.
Title: The Sound of Betrayal
Pairing: Shunsui/Kenpachi/Jushiro, leans more towards Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 333
Summary: The sound of betrayal is unlike any other silence one can hear.
A/N: Written for prompt #25: silence of ot3_100.
A cool breeze crept in through the open window, a faint whistling sound that shattered the uncomfortable silence.
Kenpachi lay with a forearm over his eyes, trying to steady his breathing after the previous exertion. His chest rose and fell with each heave he took, heart thumping in his ears. He hated the silence, always did, for to him those who didn't have the mind to talk didn't have the heart to live, and he was one for living life to its fullest, in spite of the circumstances and whatever bullshit the gods decided to throw.
Beside him, Jushiro had his eyes squeezed shut, swallowing huge gulps of air between pants. Beads of sweat littered his skin, all over his face and throat and chest, right down to his thighs. His fingers grasped the quilts, so tightly that his knuckles burned stark white against pale skin.
Finally catching his breath, Jushiro slowly turned his head to face Kenpachi, and after a moment of gazing at him, whispered, "What…what do you think he's doing now?"
Kenpachi swallowed a lump in his throat and gave a nasal sigh. He massaged his temples, avoiding Jushiro's question, knowing that it was for the best if he were to just keep quiet. Moments of bitter silence later, when he was finally able to look at him, Kenpachi rolled over and pinned Jushiro down, careful not to lay too much weight on the smaller man.
Kenpachi's fingers brushed the stray white strands away from his face, rough, dry lips planting soft kisses all over his face; soothing, gentle caresses - so unlike the violent beast that so many equated him to. His hot breath fleeted across Jushiro's eyes, and he let his lids drift to a close, squeezing them shut, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.
As Kenpachi's muscular arms encircled him, bringing him to his chest in a warm, tight embrace, Jushiro buried his face in the man's shoulder, and the ear-splitting silence engulfed them once more.
Pairing: Shunsui/Kenpachi/Jushiro, leans more towards Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 400
Summary: Shunsui doesn't expect Kenpachi to be with Jushiro throughout the mourning, but then again, his assumptions about the man are more often than not incorrect.
A/N: Written for prompt #2: hug of ot3_100.
As a gust of wind, cold and bitter, whipped the single fringe of his hair, Shunsui could only watch his best friend's coat billowing about him. The man himself stood unmoving, unfazed as if he was the only one there. Oblivious to Shunsui's concerns, his worries, Jushiro was as silent as the grave he now stood before, head bent in prayer. Or was it sorrow? Shunsui guessed it was both, for the only thing that could render Jushiro to a quiet, utterly speechless mass was nothing but death. He may be old, matured, experienced, but he was still just another shinigami, regardless of rank. He had his limits.
Sentaro and Kiyone were nowhere to be seen, which was just as well since all they managed to conjure up were arguments, quarrels and more arguments. Granted, Shunsui had told them to stay at bay for this one time, but he was rather surprised to see that they actually listened to him.
It felt like hours standing there, watching Jushiro's back, engulfed within a heavy silence. Many times Shunsui wanted to break it, to take Jushiro in his arms and reassure him, but he restrained himself. It was hard, but he managed, occupying his mind with thoughts of their other companion, the one who Shunsui planned to berate the moment he stepped out of that graveyard. He knew the man didn't give much of a damn about death, how his division was always so violent and brutal. But then again, the battlefield was their playground - Shunsui should have known better than to hope for him to show up.
A rustle of grass underfoot, and Jushiro turned his back on the grave. With his head still bent, he took fast paces away, past Shunsui, not even bothering to look up to acknowledge his best friend. Shunsui controlled himself, deciding to just walk a few paces behind him
"Done yet?" And there stood Kenpachi, a scowl in place. Jushiro froze, Shunsui nearly bumping into him. "Ain't no use rememberin' the dead, Ukitake. It'll only make things worse an' fuck ye over."
Shunsui hardened his gaze, slightly shaking his head as a signal to Kenpachi to keep his damned mouth shut. But then, much to his surprise, Jushiro walked straight into Kenpachi's embrace, the younger captain instinctively wrapping his arms around him. At Kenpachi's reassuring grin, Shunsui breathed a relieved sigh.
The man did show up after all.
Title: The Sound of Betrayal
Pairing: Shunsui/Kenpachi/Jushiro, leans more towards Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 333
Summary: The sound of betrayal is unlike any other silence one can hear.
A/N: Written for prompt #25: silence of ot3_100.
A cool breeze crept in through the open window, a faint whistling sound that shattered the uncomfortable silence.
Kenpachi lay with a forearm over his eyes, trying to steady his breathing after the previous exertion. His chest rose and fell with each heave he took, heart thumping in his ears. He hated the silence, always did, for to him those who didn't have the mind to talk didn't have the heart to live, and he was one for living life to its fullest, in spite of the circumstances and whatever bullshit the gods decided to throw.
Beside him, Jushiro had his eyes squeezed shut, swallowing huge gulps of air between pants. Beads of sweat littered his skin, all over his face and throat and chest, right down to his thighs. His fingers grasped the quilts, so tightly that his knuckles burned stark white against pale skin.
Finally catching his breath, Jushiro slowly turned his head to face Kenpachi, and after a moment of gazing at him, whispered, "What…what do you think he's doing now?"
Kenpachi swallowed a lump in his throat and gave a nasal sigh. He massaged his temples, avoiding Jushiro's question, knowing that it was for the best if he were to just keep quiet. Moments of bitter silence later, when he was finally able to look at him, Kenpachi rolled over and pinned Jushiro down, careful not to lay too much weight on the smaller man.
Kenpachi's fingers brushed the stray white strands away from his face, rough, dry lips planting soft kisses all over his face; soothing, gentle caresses - so unlike the violent beast that so many equated him to. His hot breath fleeted across Jushiro's eyes, and he let his lids drift to a close, squeezing them shut, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.
As Kenpachi's muscular arms encircled him, bringing him to his chest in a warm, tight embrace, Jushiro buried his face in the man's shoulder, and the ear-splitting silence engulfed them once more.