The Truth of Shadows (Chapter 3)

[silverkytten]

DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.

Author: SilverKytten
Title: The Truth of Shadows (chapter 3)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: IchigoxUkitake
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, mild early series spoilers
Summary: Sometimes the person you least expect is the one who finds you in the darkness.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo; I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.

A/N: So…for those of you giving this story a chance, thank you for all the nice feedback. I always appreciate hearing what people think, and welcome any thoughts or reviews you have after this next chapter, as well.

Off you go…

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 2)


Wednesday -

~ "If you stare into the night sky long enough, sometimes your true self smiles back." ~

In some ways the third night was easier, and in others it was worse. It was easier because I didn't feel even half so awkward. I still had no idea where we were going, but at least I knew I was invited, which really did make a world of difference in the end. I also knew that he had at least a fundamental understanding of how I dressed, even though I had no fucking idea how, so I was less worried about feeling completely out of place. I actually felt pretty average for once; getting ready to go out, like someone with a normal social life and friends I really did shit with. Fucking weird.

It was harder, though, because I was starting to realize that I really, really wanted to go. I don't mean wanted like how you look forward to a movie release because you think it might be cool as shit; I mean wanted like how you hear people talk about a day off after an 80 hour week. Like I needed it or something. It worried me a little because I didn't like feeling so reliant on something, especially when it depended on another person. I also couldn't figure out if it was the simple act of getting away or Ukitake himself that I was so drawn to, but I had a vague suspicion it was the latter. I didn't really know what to feel about that either, because I didn't know what it meant, though it didn't seem like a particularly good thing.

None of that kept me inside, of course, but I did mull it over in a half-assed sort of way until I turned down the now familiar street. He was waiting for me that time, looking as casual as he had the night before. He'd forgone the long-sleeves, and his skin looked pale against the dark hues of a different T-shirt. He smiled as I approached, and I shook my head vaguely, still a bit thrown off by the whole thing. He was wearing a thick leather strap around his neck with what looked like a stylized Quincy Cross hanging from it, and the earrings were back, flashing dully. Ishida would probably have been pissed, but he looked like a fucking rockstar. Seriously, he could have had business cards printed: Ukitake Juushiro, Fucking Rockstar! It just wasn't fair.

"Lovely evening," he offered, glancing up at the sky.

"Um…yeah," I agreed dimly, still stewing over why he made a better human than I did.

"Shall we?" He gestured to the street, eyes dancing with amusement. I always got the feeling that knew what I was thinking. It was a little disconcerting.

I let him set the pace as we started to walk, mostly because I had no idea where we were going. I would have let him lead anyway, though, because I liked his unhurried gate. That easy, stress-free roll was relaxing.

"That's a Quincy Cross, right?" I still sucked at small talk, but I was improving gradually as I got more practice.

"It is," he said fondly, reaching up to touch it. "It was a gift from a very long time ago, before the rift between our people."

"That must have been a really long time ago," I muttered with a degree of wonder, trying to remember what I knew about their history. Shinigami ageing messed with my head sometimes.

"You make me feel so delightfully old on occasion," he laughed, looking thoroughly entertained.

"Sorry," I mumbled, even though I knew it wasn't required.

"I wish you wouldn't be," he said with a chuckle. "I assure you, I really don't mind."

He brushed away a lock of hair that had escaped its tie, tucking it behind his ear.

"You don't really wear earrings, do you?" His movements had drawn my eye and I just couldn't remember from the few times I'd seen him. Somehow it seemed unlikely.

"You mean outside of a gigai?" He asked, glancing at me curiously.

"Um…yeah," I clarified, realizing my phrasing could use work, because he was obviously wearing them right then. I needed a fucking book on conversation, or something.

"No, I don't," He slid his fingers over one of the studs, tugging it gently. "Not anymore."

That caught my interest. "You used to?"

"Quite a long time ago," he chuckled faintly. "I gave them up shortly after I joined the academy. Shunsui always said they made me look rakish, which I believe he meant as a compliment, but it seemed like the wrong impression for what I was trying to achieve at the time. I cared a great deal more for what people thought of me then."

He shook his head fondly, but he looked a little sad. He always seemed more tired when he thought back on easier times.

"I like them," I admitted, because it was true and it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

"Thank you," he said, his voice warming slightly. "I do miss them sometimes, even if they are a bit rakish."

I rolled my eyes as he laughed again. Rakish wasn't the word I'd have chosen, but I sure as fuck wasn't going to supply the one that flashed through my head. Somehow, telling another guy that his earrings were kinda sexy seemed like it sent the wrong message. Seriously. I didn't know where I came up with this shit, but it did fit, and I wasn't so insecure that I needed to freak out for having thought it.

We stopped for food - Japanese this time - and I guess he didn't want to push his luck because he stuck with tea. He asked me about school again, and about my family and friends. I asked him about the plans for Aizen, but he told me about his academy life instead. It was a little frustrating. I didn't like to be left out, but I didn't get the feeling he meant it that way. He just didn't want to talk about it right then, because it was stressful and there were no real answers.

I only grumbled half as much when he paid that time. It was a losing battle and I didn't have much money anyway because I didn't have a job. Scratch that; technically I suppose being a Shinigami was pretty much like a job, you just didn't get paid for it. No wonder Superman had a day-job, and Batman needed a trust fund; hero work pays for shit.

We finally wandered out into the night and I tipped my head back, staring up at the clouds moving silently by.

"I enjoy the night," he said softly, following my gaze. "I enjoy the sun as well; the glow of the world and the warmth on my skin, but there's something inherently wild in the darkness. Wild and calming all at the same time."

A lot of people were afraid of the dark, but I knew what he meant. There was just as much shit that could kill you during the day, so it was really more about perspective than anything.

"Yeah," I murmured, still watching the clouds as we walked." Everything feels different at night, like I'm a different person."

"It can feel that way sometimes," he agreed reflectively, and I turned to find him watching me. "It can be dangerous at times."

I frowned softly, feeling like I was missing something. "Dangerous how?"

His eyebrow twitched faintly, but he just smiled and shook his head. "Only in that it requires you to understand yourself."

I didn't really know what he meant and wondered if he was just being random again. He didn't seem overly concerned, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking around to get his bearings.

I recognized the area. We were heading into one of the local night scenes, and there was a decent crowd milling around. We passed a long line of people waiting in a roped off queue for access to Sol, one of the more exclusive nightclubs. I'd heard of the place, it was really popular and always busy. I figured it must be fucking crazy on the weekends if that was the turnout on a Wednesday night. I faltered as Ukitake turned, heading toward the door at the front of the line.

"I can't go in there," I said incredulously, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Yes you can," he assured me, giving me a curious look. "There's no dress code."

"No, I mean it's not an underage club," I explained, shaking my head in exasperation. "I can't get in."

"Yes, you can," he repeated with a smile, blithely ignoring my concerns.

I gave him a dubious look as he approached the bouncer, lagging a couple steps behind and trying to look inconspicuous. He said something to the man, too low for me to hear over the crowd, and the guy started to move the rope but drew up short at the sight of me.

"Does he have ID?" He asked, giving me a narrow look.

"No," Ukitake supplied helpfully, and I just shook my head again.

"Then he can't come in," the guy said flatly.

"Yes, he can," Ukitake assured him easily, like the guy was just going to take his word for it.

The guy gave him a weird look, like he thought the whole thing might be a joke or something, but he didn't move and he didn't smile. Ukitake sighed faintly, digging into his pocket.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," he said sincerely, sliding open an expensive looking cell phone. "If you'll give me a moment, I'll have this all sorted out."

He began rapidly pressing keys as the bouncer blinked skeptically. I blinked at him, too, but it was more because he had a cell phone and that just seemed weird to me.

"I don't care if you have Zeus on fucking speed dial, he's not getting in without ID," the guy growled, glaring at me like I'd started the shit.

"What are you doing?" I asked blankly, watching Ukitake slide the phone back into his pocket.

"Messaging someone to get this cleared up," he replied conversationally, studying the crowd as he waited.

"…huh," I said doubtfully, trying to ignore the bouncer's continued glare.

Several of the people in line were watching us now, with varying degrees of interest. A couple of girls in barely-there dresses were trying to catch Ukitake's attention, but he seemed blissfully unaware. Further back, a little knot of people were talking about me, if the direction of their gestures and muffled snickering was any indication. Apparently they knew I shouldn't be there, even if Ukitake didn't seem to. I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned away. They could go fuck themselves.

"I didn't mean for you to be uncomfortable," Ukitake said quietly, looking apologetic.

"It's whatever," I grumbled, shrugging it off. I was used to ignoring shit like that.

"I should have called ahead to avoid the scene," he murmured, brows pulling together as he studied my frown. "I didn't realize they'd been hiring recently."

He spared a glance at the bouncer, looking vaguely put out, and I felt the corner of my mouth curl as I shrugged again.

"Calling ahead doesn't make me older," I pointed out dryly.

"I'm aware." His eyes danced faintly. "It simply sidesteps the issue entirely."

As if in response to his thoughts, the door behind the bouncer swung open and a well-groomed man in a really nice suit poked his head out to glance around. He spotted Ukitake and blanched, quickly schooling his features as he stepped outside. Smoothing his hands over his already perfect hair, he slipped around the stunned bouncer with a muttered curse and lifted the rope out of his way.

"Ukitake-san, we weren't expecting you," he said smoothly, bowing slightly at the waist.

"I apologize for my lack of foresight, Katsuo-san," Ukitake smiled. "Would you mind if we went inside, it's getting a bit dull out here."

"Of course," Katsuo didn't miss a beat, stepping aside and gesturing toward the still open door. "Please, after you."

"The kid ain't got ID, boss." The bouncer had apparently recovered sufficiently to complain.

"Yes, he does," Katsou gave him a hard look, "and it says he can go inside."

"Don't be too harsh, Katsou-san," Ukitake chided gently. "I rather admire his dedication to the job."

He gave the guy an approving nod as he glided by, and I followed in his wake feeling a little dazed. Maybe he really did have those Fucking Rockstar cards.

The music engulfed us as we passed through the door, pulsing low and thick through the too warm air. I'd only been to a couple clubs, mostly when my friends forced me, but those were all underage; full of hyper, frenetic techno. The music in Sol was different somehow; wilder, more complicated and sensual. Fuck, maybe I was too young to be there.

"What the fuck just happened?" I demanded, after Ukitake had exchanged a few words with a thoroughly apologetic Katsuo.

He chuckled at my outburst, weaving his way toward the bar.

"We entered the club," he informed me sagely.

I gave him my best flat stare and he flashed me a grin.

"I'm part owner of this establishment," he admitted, his smile going slightly sheepish. "Silent, of course."

"You fucking own the place?" Random-ass bullshit, all the fucking time.

"Partially," he corrected, eyes shining with amusement as he continued forward.

I forced my mouth back shut and just followed him toward the bar. I think I was starting to become desensitized to his shit, or maybe I was just in shock. What the fuck did I know about Shinigami involvement in the human world anyway? For all I knew they all owned nightclubs; maybe they owned all sorts of shit, who the fuck could say anymore. In some warped way I found it easier to accept him owning a business than standing around texting someone on a fucking cell phone.

Yeah, it was probably shock.

"You look perplexed, Kurosaki-kun," he pointed out helpfully as I slid onto a stool, leaning a little closer to be heard over the music.

I turned, trying to sort out where to begin and found him watching me with open amusement, cheek resting against his fist and elbow propped on the bar. I let out the breath I was holding as I felt his smile slide over my face, dragging the last of my frown lose. Three days ago I hadn't known jack-shit about him - outside of my vague impressions of him as a captain - so I didn't know why I was always so surprised. Fuck, I was probably the last person on earth that should be making assumptions about people based on how they looked.

"You have a cell phone," I grumbled half-heartedly, shaking my head in exasperation.

"I do," he agreed with a chuckle.

"And you own a club," I pointed out, smiling a little more despite myself. It was kind of refreshing to feel so fucking ridiculous about shit that couldn't kill me for once.

"Part of a club,' he corrected, looking delighted by my unexpected reaction.

"That's fucked up, isn't it?" I honestly didn't know anymore. "I mean, it seems fucked up."

He laughed. "Not as much as you might imagine. It's not terribly common among the Shinigami, but it's by no means unheard of."

I just shook my head, realizing there was a whole world of shit I knew fuck-all about, and somehow Ukitake always seemed to be in the middle of it. A bartender materialized from somewhere, and Ukitake slid her a credit card to open a tab, ordering some mineral water while I daringly opted for a Coke.

"Do you really have to pay for stuff here?" I asked after she left the drinks. I didn't know how owning a business worked with shit like that.

"No," he admitted, looking unconcerned. "But I don't care for the attention that either explaining myself or calling Katsuo would bring."

I shrugged, because it really didn't matter, and I knew what it was like to want to blend in sometimes.

"You just want to be left alone," I muttered, more to myself than to him, but he heard me anyway.

"Sometimes," he confessed, spinning his bottle lightly between his fingers, eyes roaming over my face. "By most people, that is."

He smiled softly, and I didn't have any reply because something in his look stilled my words. A couple of days ago I might have thought he meant me; that I was imposing my presence when he only wanted solitude, but recognized now that it wasn't the case. For whatever the reason, he enjoyed my company. I'd seen enough by now to know that, at least.

"I guess I know what you mean," I said finally, and realized, with very little surprise, that he was on my list of exceptions as well.

"I know you do." The smile in his eyes deepened, but it was different somehow, and I couldn't quite place it.

I felt my brows pull in faint confusion, not quite a frown as I stared back at him. There was a whisper of a question at the edge of my mind, but I couldn't find the words to make the thought real. I watched his lips curve higher, and dragged my eyes up, searching his gaze for some unknown answer. He tilted his head faintly, and I found myself smiling, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Maybe it wasn't important, though something told me it was.

Ukitake looked away first, taking a drink of his water and sighing an amused sound against the rim of the bottle. He spun on his stool, reclining against the bar, watching the crush of bodies sway to the low, pulsing beat. He was silent for awhile and so was I, lost in a sort of quiet camaraderie.

"Do you dance, Kurosaki-kun?" His voice has a smooth, heavy quality to it as he watched the pack in the half-lit room.

"Not well," I grumbled, turning to look at him.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, his lashes drooping low as he slid against the bar under the call of the driving beat. His teeth dragged lazily across his lip, the hint of a smile curling slow, as though he could taste the music on the air. He caught my gaze from the corner of his eye.

"Would you care to give it a try?"

"I think I'll pass for now," I muttered dryly, shaking my head at his fucking random twists.

"It's an amazing source of stress relief," he encouraged, smirking faintly as I rolled my eyes.

"I'll fucking survive." Embarrassing myself in a crowd of strangers didn't sound very therapeutic. "Go by yourself, if you think it's so great."

"Suit yourself." He slid from his stool, drifting gracefully into the surging crowd.

I lost track of him after a moment or two and turned back to the bar, shaking my head. It still blew my mind how different he could be, away from the structure of Soul Society; free from the scrutiny and duty-bound roles. I kind of liked it. I liked him.

"You want another?" The bartender had paused in front of me, gesturing to my now empty glass.

"Sure," I shrugged, watching the ice shift a little. "Coke."

"I know," she muttered, reaching to retrieve the glass. "Aren't you a little young to be in here?"

"I made it through the door, didn't I?" I was drinking Coke, for fuck sake, what did it matter?

"I get the feeling you had some help with that." She gave me a pointed look.

Great, nothing said fun like the concerned adult tone. Dancing suddenly seemed like it might have been the less irritating option.

"Can I just get the Coke?" I asked evenly, trying not to scowl.

Her eyes narrowed as she held a nozzle over the glass. She looked like she was stewing on some retort when something behind me caught her attention. Her finger slid from the trigger as her lips parted slightly, staring fixedly over my left shoulder.

"Wow…," she whispered, dripping Coke onto my hand as the nozzle trembled.

I swore under my breath, shooting her a glare as I raised my hand to my lips, catching a rolling drop. I dragged the glass away from her, turning on my stool to see what the fuck was so interesting. I froze, sucking in a breath as my eyes went wide.

The mass of people had shifted, and in their midst, though seemingly apart, Ukitake was dancing. It was like the music was an extension of his body, like his movements created it rather than followed its flow. The pulse of the bass throbbed low and hard, but he matched its glide with effortless grace and an air of wild, elated abandon. His head fell back; eyes sliding closed, like nothing else in the world existed.

People were openly watching him now, but the few who approached, like moths to a flame, soon fell away like they couldn't stand his heat. Focusing harder I saw the flicker of reiatsu, tracing over his body, keeping them at bay. His hand rose through it and it slid between his fingers, stirring in the air like threads of light and shadow. A smile creased his lips and I felt dazed; he was like a force of fucking nature and all he was doing was dancing.

I felt something twist as I had a rare moment of self-awareness, which always seemed to come at the shittiest times. I realized, on some level at least, that I was attracted to him and I had absolutely no idea what to make of it. I also realized, with a degree of chagrin, that I wasn't nearly as upset as I probably should have been, all things considered. I didn't know what to make of that, either. I'd never been attracted to a guy before, but it seemed like a world of trouble I just didn't need right then. I pushed back hard against the surge of recognition, resolving to not be awkward until that shit went away.

The smile on his lips pulled a little brighter and I met his gaze, locked on me from across the room. I dropped my eyes, cursing under my breath at having been caught, raising the glass to my lips just for something to do. I felt him draw nearer without having to look and a surreptitious glance confirmed my fears. I cursed again, but a smirk was dragging at the corner of my mouth and I wondered why I didn't feel more embarrassed than I did.

"Have you changed your mind, Kurosaki-kun?" He slid into the space in front of me, amusement shivering low through his tone.

"No," I muttered, dragging my eyes up. "I was just…"

The smartass retort died in my throat, lost to a moment of electric surprise. The exertion had burned a flush beneath his normally pale skin, and his breath stirred panting over slightly parted lips. I couldn't remember him ever looking so alive. The reiatsu was still spinning faintly around him and I shifted my hand, letting it slide between my fingers as I'd seen him do. It tingled against my skin and I shivered, loosing whatever thought had been swirling in my head.

"I…," What the fuck do you say when you can't even think?

His teeth dragged slowly over his lower lip and he tilted his head.

"Dance with me, Kurosaki." His eyes glittered dark beneath the fall of his lashes, his voice thick as honey in the heat of the air.

"Uhh…I don't…I just…"

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, still unsure of how I was supposed to respond. There was something in the air, in the music, in darkness and it whispered it's longing up the back of my neck. I wanted that freedom, wanted it badly, to catch a taste of the things burning wild in his eyes. The pull of the need was a little bit frightening. I could feel my pulse thundering hard in my chest, the moment's indecision striping the words from my tongue.

He slid a little closer, pulling the glass from my strangely limp fingers, reaching around to set it on the bar. A smile flickered lazily as he towed me to my feet, staring down at me with music-drugged intensity.

"Dance with me," he repeated softly, stilling the protests half-formed on my lips.

"Yeah," I breathed, because it was all I could say.

He hummed his approval and turned, keeping a hold of my wrist, leading me smoothly into the surge of the crowd. We wove through the writhing mass of bodies until the crush started to ease, thinning out near the back of the room. He released me, turning to catch my gaze with languid, dark eyes.

The music flowed seamlessly into a complex, rolling rhythm and he followed it effortlessly, as though he could see it on the air. I hardly ever danced, and almost never willingly, so I could feel the strain on my body when I finally forced it to move. I felt my frown forming as I tried to catch the rhythm, but there was something strangely elusive in its heavy, pounding drive. I let my eyes slip closed, concentrating on my movements, trying to keep from looking as awkward as I felt.

"Stop thinking about it," Ukitake urged, moving a little closer so I could hear him over the noise. "Try to relax."

"I'm a shit dancer," I grumbled, trying to do what he said but not knowing how.

"I've seen you fight." He was closer still. "I've seen the grace with which you can move."

His hands slid over my hips and I faltered half a step, but his fingers dug in slightly to keep me in motion.

"Think of the music as living thing." His hands pressed gently and I tried to follow his lead. "Let your insight guide you in how you should respond."

I felt the heat creep into my cheeks as his body brushed against me, but even though I tensed I didn't pull away. My heart pounded in time with the pulse of the beat, and his hands glided over me to keep me in step. His lashes swept low as his lips curled up and somewhere inside I felt something start to slip. I let my eyes fall shut as I gave in to his rhythm, letting him move me on a path only he could see.

"Stay with me, Kurosaki."

His voice had gone low, his hands tugging gently as he turned me around. He pulled my back against his chest and I gasped in surprise as his breath stirred my hair.

"You can't just hear the music," he murmured, "You have to feel it in your blood."

His rhythm began to shift, following just the off-beat, slowing so I could feel how it moved along his frame. His reiatsu coiled around us, carrying the pulse on its flow, and I trailed my fingers through it, letting it burn against my skin.

"It's not about following the music," he instructed, his thumb grazing my stomach as my shirt pulled up. "It's about letting it move through you."

I felt my head spinning, a smile pulling at my lips as I watched his reiatsu dancing softly though the air. I could feel the music in the roll of his body, singing though mine on the tips of his fingers. It was the most primal, wild thing I'd ever felt in my life. I laughed as we moved, letting it pull me along, shivering as his hands dragged me closer to his warmth.

"Dance with me, Kurosaki." His lips tickled against my ear, his voice so low it was almost a growl.

He released me and I turned, matching his pace as his tempo increased. I felt free and electric, following the pull of the reiatsu still trailing gently around us. Time blurred into a haze of motion, my smile still lingering as the sweat beaded my skin. His hands skimmed over me from time to time, directing and coaxing, encouraging me forward. It was like he was playing the harmony to some deeper rhythm with every fleeting touch. I'd never felt so alive.

The music shifted again, slowing, darkening, the low pulse of the beat dragging heavy through my veins. His hand curled over my hip, pulling me closer, matching the roll of my body like it was singing just for him. His fingers slipped higher, sliding damp over my hot skin as my shirt rose up. Fuck.

My fuzzy thoughts snapped back into focus as my body start to respond in the most inappropriate way possible. Like fucking ice water I suddenly remembered that I was in the middle of a crowded room, dancing with a guy who I'd sworn I wasn't going to do any awkward shit around. I tried to reign myself in but it was far too late and I tripped to a halt as I lost the music's edge.

"Are you okay?" He murmured, catching me against his body, his hand sliding up my back as I stumbled again.

I heard a soft gasp from somewhere to the left and I turned to meet the wide-eyed stare of a girl a few feet away. She was staring at us with a look of open lust, her tongue tracing her lips as she shifted her gaze between us. Behind her, the guy she'd been dancing with looked thoroughly disgusted. It seemed we'd been drawing considerable attention, and a fair number of people were watching us now. I felt myself flush, and thanked every fucking god I could think of that at least they hadn't seen the worst of my shame.

"Kurosaki?"

He sounded slightly strained and I forced my attention around, watching him drag his eyes up with a wince and an apologetic sort of understanding. I realized that regardless of what I'd managed to hide from the rest of the world, Ukitake sure as fuck had noticed my condition. Un-fucking-believable. I'd never failed at a resolution so hard or so fast in my whole life, but I was pretty fucking sure I couldn't have made this more awkward if I tried.

"Fuck," I growled and he shifted slightly, putting some space between us as his eyes softened with compassion. "I'm sorry," I cut him off before he could say anything. I could tell he was going to be nice, and I was just going to feel weirder. "I didn't mean…it's just…fuck."

My humiliation had finally accomplished what my willpower couldn't, dragging my body sufficiently from its hardened state. I pulled away from him, trying to think of something to say, but how the fuck do you apologize for getting hard while you're pressed up against some guy who hardly knows you? Fuck. He was watching me with controlled interest, his features carefully schooled, and I realized I was probably making this weird for him, too.

"I'm sorry," I muttered again, turning on my heel to push through the crowd. Retreat seemed like the best option at the moment, considering I couldn't think of anything else.

I made it almost all the way off the floor before someone grabbed my arm, jerking me back. I spun, coming face to face with some big-ass punk sporting an ugly sneer.

"Hey, faggot, I got something you can suck on if you're done over there," he spat, stinking of beer and liquor.

I usually have more restraint, but I was already on edge and I really hated shits like him anyway. I twisted easily out of his grip and caught him in the jaw with my fist, sending him sprawling. One of his buddies started forward, but I gave him a hard look and he was either smarter of less drunk because he stepped the fuck off. I turned, making my way into the night without a backward glance.

I slowed once I'd made it a couple of blocks, shoving my hands into my pockets and growling a steady stream of curses at the darkness. I couldn't figure out what the fuck was wrong with me, but I was pretty sure that whatever it was, it was big. I should have stayed home when I realized how important this shit had gotten. I definitely should have been more careful when I noticed I was attracted to him. Fuck, I was pretty sure I should have been a hell of a lot more concerned about being attracted to a guy in the first place. I sure as fuck shouldn't have been dancing with him after all that. It was just asking for trouble, so I couldn't figure out why I was so surprised when everything went to shit. I was so much more fucked up than I'd thought three days ago.

I felt a stirring of awareness and tensed, my head snapping up in time to see Ukitake pass silently overhead. He stalled his forward momentum easily against a wall and dropped gracefully into step beside me, like he'd been there the whole time. I decided I wasn't even surprised at that point, because why the fuck should he have a normal gigai anyway, that would be too simple. Ukitake Juushiro, fucking rockstar ninja. He probably got that shit from Urahara, and that bastard didn't know the meaning of normal.

"I had to retrieve my card from the bar," he explained, as though his five minute delay in catching me required some sort of excuse.

He wandered beside me in silence for a few minutes as I struggled with what to say. I still had no fucking idea how the hell I was supposed to apologize for getting hard while I was dancing with another guy. There were so many fucked-up things in that sentence that I didn't even know where to begin.

Technically he'd been the one to ask me to dance, hell he'd practically dragged me out there, but that probably had something to do with the way I'd been fucking staring at him. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, though, because I was pretty damn sure that if I caught a guy staring at me like that, the last thing I'd do is ask him to dance. So what the fuck did that mean? Fuck. Maybe the Shinigami did shit differently; maybe he just liked to dance; maybe I had no fucking idea why he did half the shit he did and I probably never would. In any case, I was pretty damn sure it hadn't been an invitation for me to do what I'd done.

None of that shit explained why I'd been out there in the first place, or why I'd gotten so damn turned on by the whole thing, or why I though his motherfucking earrings were sexy. Of course there was an easy answer for all that shit, and I already knew it: I was attracted to him. I was attracted to a male Shinigami who I'd only really known for a couple of days and I couldn't even figure out if I was actually upset by that piece of the mess. Seriously, what the fuck?

"Are you always this high-strung?"

I started a little, because I'd forgotten he was there and because I recognized his words from the night before. I glanced at him and found his eyes trained on the sidewalk, watching it pass underfoot with a slight tilt to the corner of his lips. Fucking great, he thought it was funny. Somehow, though, it made the knot in my chest ease a bit.

"I'm sorry about that…shit," I mumbled, slowing to a halt on the empty sidewalk. I hated the edge I could hear in my voice and the heat in my face.

"Don't apologize," he said softly, his brows drawing together as he turned to look at me. "You're young, and it's natural for your body to become aroused by intimate contact; one of the most natural things, in fact."

I dropped my eyes, feeling ashamed both by what had happened and by the ease with which he spoke of it. He made everything seem so simple sometimes, even when it didn't feel simple. I heard him sigh.

"If anyone should apologize it's me, for touching you so freely," he continued, quieter still. "I rarely dance with a partner, and I forgot myself for a moment."

I dragged my gaze back up and found him watching me with a tired sort of remorse. I didn't like the thought of him blaming himself for that shit. It wasn't his fault that my fucking human side had come barging in and I was acting like some fucked-up, horny teenager with orientation issues. Teenage hormones really were bullshit, and I didn't have much experience dealing with them because lately I'd been spending a lot of time as a Shinigami with bigger problems. Hell, I'd always had bigger problems.

"It's just…don't worry about it," I muttered, feeling the stir of his calm even through the haze of my embarrassment. I'd thought him being cool about it would make it seem weirder, like he was feeling sorry for me, but it didn't. He just made shit seem easier, even though I still felt awkward as hell.

"Go home and get some sleep, Kurosaki-kun," he said softly, the fond little smile drifting faint across his lips. "The world will survive for one night, and you will feel better in the morning."

He tilted his head slightly, watching me for a second longer before he turned, heading in the opposite direction. I stared at his retreating back for a moment, feeling like shit for ruining his night.

"Why'd you dance with me?" I called after him, because apparently I hadn't done enough embarrassing shit for the night.

He paused, turning to study me from a few feet away as I flushed, wondering again what the fuck was wrong with me. His eyes softened and he seemed to consider his answer for a second.

"You wanted to dance with me," he said simply, watching me for my reaction. "Though I think you understand yourself better now than you did at the time."

I winced as his words sparked the memory of our conversation after dinner, about the dangers of night and not understanding yourself. I wondered if he'd recognized my fucked-up attraction even then, and figured there was a pretty good chance. People always seemed to know shit about me before I did and it was total bullshit. I felt even more awkward realizing he'd seen that in me; that he'd just been indulging me because he was too damn nice.

"Yeah...um, sorry," I muttered again, feeling edgy and tired. "I'll see you around, okay?"

I turned, shoving my hands into my pockets but drew up short as he called my name. He was already approaching as I turned and I watched silently until he stopped, just inside what might have been considered a polite distance. He stared down at me, shaking his head faintly against some unknown thought, an odd smile lingering around his mouth. His eyes slipped closed for a brief second and he sighed again, an amusedly resigned little sound.

"Forgive me, Kurosaki," he said softly, the smile drifting in his eyes. "I wasn't completely honest in my answer."

I frowned and he tilted his head, gaze warming another degree.

"I danced with you because I wanted to," he admitted. "I wanted to see you move, and I have fewer inhibitions than I should when I'm in some settings."

There was a certain ruefulness tinting his tone, like he could hear the excuse as the world left his lips.

"What, like you couldn't help yourself?" I asked, my eyebrow sliding upward despite my fucked-up state of mind.

His lips curled a little higher at one corner.

"More like I didn't want to help myself," he corrected softly before his eyes turned serious once again. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, though, or to stir any unwanted reactions. I truly apologize for my lack of restraint."

"Its whatever," I shrugged after a moment, and I actually sounded like I meant it that time.

I wasn't sure why he was telling me this, or what it meant exactly, but it made me feel a little better to know that he'd done at least some of that shit for reasons other than just humoring me.

"Get some sleep, Kurosaki," he said fondly, smiling as he turned and moved away.

I didn't call him back that time, but I did watch him for a minute before going my own way. I had no fucking idea if I was going to feel better in the morning, but I sure as hell knew that sleeping wasn't going to make everything normal again. It also wasn't going to give me any answers as to what the fuck I was going to do. That would require thinking.

Suddenly going to bed seemed a lot more appealing. I'd think about it later…if I had to.

(next chapter)