The Truth of Shadows (Chapter 5)
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 5)
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.
(Chapter 1)
(Chapter 2)
(Chapter 3)
(Chapter 4)
A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who has reviewed up to this point. I thoroughly enjoy reading all of your feedback. It truly does brighten my day.
So...this was a little more delayed than I would have liked! I really did mean to have it up awhile ago, but my computer died, and it took me some time (and effort) to recover my hard drive. After that it was sort of a free-for-all of disaster! My internet went out for DAYS, which is bad. Then I discovered that the fiance only had WordPad on his computer, which is just astounding to me (for those of you who don't know, WordPad is pretty much Notepad with a different name...it doesn't even have spellcheck). I further discovered that the word processors on my tablet and smartphone hate each other, much in the same way they hate the aforementioned WordPad. This is not helpful! Anyway, I have persevered, and am pleased to present you with the next chapter. I hope you enjoy, and I will have the next chapter (Friday- pt 2) up for you all shortly~
Friday, part 1 -
~ "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and possibly we're not playing the same game…" ~
You hear people go on sometimes about how great it can feel to finally grow a set of balls and take a chance. I guess it's true, to an extent, because I did feel pretty fucking good when I threw the shit to the wind and asked Ukitake to go dancing with me. Hell, I'd even felt good when he was stepping around the answer, because I was riding some cocky, bullshit high about asking him in the first place.
Unfortunately, what no one talks about is how shitty it feels when your high comes crashing down, and you're stuck out on a limb that you're not sure can hold your weight. I felt my stomach twist as I slid a bit lower against what I suppose should have been dubbed my wall by that point. It had taken me until lunch to realize how reluctant he'd seemed when he said we'd see what happened. At the time I'd brushed it off, but when I really took the time to think, I realized he wasn't the type to be coy with that shit, which meant he really was reluctant. Hell, by the time I got home I'd realized that not only hadn't he agreed to go dancing with me, he hadn't really agreed to meet me at all. I was only assuming he would based on the rest of the week, and assumptions had never been my best fucking friend, so that didn't necessarily bode well.
I craned my neck back against my wall and stared at the passing clouds, shaking my head a little. I'd had a pretty fucked up week, to be honest, and I really wasn't sure how it was all going to end. Maybe it already had ended, and I was just slow on the uptake.
As if on cue I glanced sideways and saw Ukitake round the corner. He was in his Fucking Rockstar disguise again and, like that wasn't enough, he wasn't alone. The guy walking next to him laughed, the sound floating gently across the still air. He was maybe an inch or two shorter than Ukitake, and carried a little more bulk on his still lean frame. Pale hair hung in front of his face as he looked down at himself, pulling at the edge of his shirt like he couldn't believe he was wearing it. He chuckled again and glanced at Ukitake, muttering something I couldn't make out. I didn't need to make it out, though, because they'd passed under a light and I'd suddenly realized that I was in the last place in the whole world I should be right then. Fucking hell.
Urahara Kisuke just shook his head at whatever reply had been forthcoming, but he dropped the hem of his shirt and smoothed it back into place. They hadn't seen me yet, but it was only a matter of time; there was no way to slip by unnoticed at that point. I guessed it was an answer, of sorts, to my request from the night before, and even though I felt a little heavier I really couldn't blame him. I'd been intruding on him all week. He probably wanted at least one night of freedom from my fucked-up, moody, hormonal shit. Fuck, I wanted a night without it, so I could understand the appeal.
I briefly considered my options, and realized they were all shit. If I stayed where I was then I was obviously waiting, and it just felt awkward to let them see me like that. If I turned and walked away then they would be following me, which might have been the only thing more awkward than just waiting. Also, they were bound to see me anyway, and if we were going in the same direction there was a chance at real conversation. I didn't think I could handle that at the moment. I growled, pushing off the wall and heading straight for them, keeping my eyes down. I wasn't deluded enough to think they wouldn't notice me, but I was hopeful that I could skate by with a word or two and be on my way.
"Kurosaki-kun?" Urahara finally spotted me and I slowed to a halt, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Hey, Urahara-san," I muttered, trying not to stare. I'd never seen him in such normal clothes, but somehow it seemed less weird than it had with Ukitake.
His gaze slid over me with mild curiosity, but he'd seen me in human clothed enough that it probably didn't seem out of place. "You weren't looking for me, were you?"
I hadn't really thought up an excuse, but this was his neighborhood so it was a fair question.
"No, I was just…out," My eyes flicked to Ukitake, who was standing quietly to Urahara's left, almost directly in front of me.
"Forgive my manners," Urahara said, having caught the direction of my brief glance. "You remember Ukitake-taicho, don't you?" He gestured to the other man, like there was some possibility of confusion in the otherwise empty street. "I believe you met in Soul Society."
I nodded faintly, scrambling for some bullshit small talk but Ukitake beat me to it, as usual.
"Lovely evening, Kurosaki," he said tranquilly, one dark brow lifting faintly in question. "Are you headed somewhere in particular at the moment?"
"Not really," I muttered, because I didn't know what he was looking for and I was starting to feel really out of place. "I was just…"
I trailed off, not knowing what to say, but Urahara seemed accustomed to my half-assed replies because he cut in smoothly, without missing a beat.
"You should be resting, Kurosaki-kun," he admonished gently, giving me a second, more assessing perusal. "Wandering the streets at night will only leave you more fatigued if something does occur."
Apparently Urahara thought I was patrolling, despite having forgone my Shinigami form. I supposed that was reasonable, based on what he knew, but somehow I felt insulted that he never even considered I might be out socially. Then again, I'd probably been out more in that week than I had in the past 6 months, so fair point again. Fuck.
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," I muttered, deciding I'd had enough awkward conversation for the night. "I'll see you guys around."
I gave them a half-wave and sidestepped Ukitake, proceeding along my previous path. Urahara made no move to stop me, because he had no fucking reason to; he was obviously going somewhere and I was clearly done with the pleasantries.
I actually flinched when something closed around my wrist, because it caught me off guard and I was wound like a spring. I stilled, eyes snapping to the pale fingers curled gently over my darker skin, blinking stupidly like I couldn't figure out how they'd gotten there. I followed the sweep of an arm back to its source and found Ukitake giving me the mildest long-suffering look I'd ever seen in my life. He sighed, shaking his head slowly.
"You're going the wrong way, Kurosaki," he supplied softly, eyes drifting over my face. "Unless you've truly decided you'd rather be home."
"I'm…" There were probably a whole slew of words that could have followed that pause, and maybe if I'd had that fucking book on conversation I could have found some of them. As it stood, I had nothing.
He sighed again with a decidedly amused edge, before turning wordlessly and starting down the street. He transferred my wrist from one hand to the other, and I actually let him tow me because I was too shocked to do anything else. After a few seconds Urahara slid in beside me, apparently having recovered from the unexpected twist.
"My, my," he drawled, giving me a much more interested look, before lengthening his stride to catch his companion. "What interesting fire you're playing with."
"I know," the older man muttered wryly, tossing me a quick glance over his shoulder. "But sometimes it burns so brightly that I just can't help myself."
His fingers tightened fractionally against my captive wrist, his thumb stroking an arch across the sensitive skin. I felt the heat settling in my cheeks.
"Fuck, Juushiro, I can keep up without you dragging me," I growled, tugging my arm free without any real force.
Urahara made a choked-off little noise, which in a lesser man might have been accompanied by a missed step, but Ukitake ignored him, sliding to one side to make room for me.
"I wish I could be sure of that," he sighed, his lips twitching faintly as I drew up between them. "But a moment ago you seemed incapable of falling in with the party, so I figured I'd better be safe."
"I didn't…I just thought…" I trailed off because I really didn't know what I'd thought and I could feel Urahara's gaze boring into my skull.
"There are many other streets I could have chosen," he murmured softly. "Do you think me that cruel?"
"I don't want to intrude," I mumbled, acutely aware of Urahara's interest. "You probably have other shit you'd rather be doing."
"I honestly don't," he said, shooting me a mellow smile. "Besides, this was your idea, so you could hardly be intruding."
"Really?" Urahara interjected, and I turned to find him regarding me with a degree of disbelief. "And when, exactly, did Kurosaki-kun have an opportunity to suggest a social outing?"
"Last night," Ukitake replied easily, staring up at the passing sky. "He discovered me sitting atop a building and kept me company for awhile. Apparently he believed my previous plan of staying in and completing some reports was unacceptable and suggested an alternative."
It all sounded so uncomplicated when he said it like that.
"A social alternative?" Urahara clarified, as if this were somehow unfathomable to him. What the fuck was that about?
"I actually do have a life, you know," I cut in, glaring when a pale brow cocked dubiously in response.
"So it would appear," he conceded, looking like he was mulling over the deeper implications. His gaze slipped back to Ukitake, but the other man just continued his perusal of the stars, and Urahara didn't press the matter. For the moment. I knew enough about him to guess this probably wasn't the end of it. Fucking fantastic, that was just what I needed.
"If we're going to Sol then I should call ahead," Urahara mused, tapping his lips thoughtfully and giving me an unconcerned look. "Avoid any age related nonsense."
Apparently he had the same outlook as Ukitake about that shit. Somehow I wasn't surprised.
"We're not going to Sol," Ukitake corrected, turning the corner and heading toward downtown.
"I thought you wanted to dance," Urahara reminded him, sounding vaguely amused by something in his head.
"I do," Ukitake replied easily, "just not at Sol."
"What's wrong with my club?" Urahara asked casually, not sounding upset, merely passingly curious.
"Your club?" I interrupted the easy flow before I could think better of it.
"Kisuke owns a piece of the club, as well," Ukitake supplied, before the other man had a chance to reply.
"You own a club with Urahara-san?"
I thought I was immune to his random shit, but apparently not. Every fucking day brought a special new surprise. Beside me, Urahara made a faint noise of interest but I chose to ignore him. Urahara's interest was almost never a good thing, and sometimes the key was to just remain ignorant.
"Technically I own a club with Kisuke, Yoruichi and Shunsui. It's a completely Shinigami establishment." He shot me an amused glance, like he knew how fucked up that sounded. "But fundamentally, the answer would be yes, I own a club with Urahara-san."
I guess in some ways it made sense, at least on Urahara's part, because I'd always wondered how the hell he funded all his weird shit. I'd never once seen anyone come near his shop in a business capacity.
"Fucked up," I muttered, more for the sake of it than for any real outrage. I really was pretty immune, it turned out. Still, something caught in my memory and I turned on Urahara. "Aren't you supposed to be in exile or some shit? How the hell do you own a club with a couple of Shinigami?"
He laughed, both at the question and my seeming lack of concern. "I am in exile, or I was, at least."
I caught Ukitake's matching chuckle.
"Some people are better at being in exile than others," he added helpfully, but didn't clarify further.
Shinigami bullshit, 24 hours a day. In a weird universe, parts of it made sense, though; especially the way Ukitake and Kyouraku-taichou had shown up at Rukia's execution armed not only with a plan, but with some weird relic from Yourichi's family. At the time it had just seemed a little too convenient, but maybe there was a simpler explanation for it all. Maybe they'd been in contact before all that shit went down; maybe there was a deeper level to the fucking rabbit hole. I didn't bother asking. It sounded like a whole world of trouble and I found I didn't care at the moment.
The conversation flowed easily from there as we walked, though it consisted mostly of them chatting and me trying not to say anything stupid. It went pretty well, actually. By the time Ukitake stopped in the middle of a crowded sidewalk I was feeling fairly laid back, even with Urahara there. Until the bastard let out a dark chuckle, that is.
"This is where you want to go tonight?" He asked Ukitake, the mirth lingering in his voice and on the curve of his lips.
I got another of my bad feelings, and gave the building a sharp look, even as Ukitake shrugged in my periphery.
"It's a nice club," he offered smoothly, sounding completely unconcerned. Given his history of being unconcerned by important shit, that didn't exactly ease my mind. "It's one of my favorites, outside of Sol."
I scanned the name over the door, and it stirred a vague memory that I couldn't quite place. The bad feeling wasn't going away.
"Oh, I like it, too," Urahara agreed easily. "It's upscale, exclusive, has great music, and keeps an amazing bar. Don't you think it might be a tad bit too exclusive for certain company, though?"
My eyes narrowed as Ukitake just shrugged again, turning toward the door with an air of nonchalance. There was a queue outside, but I knew by now that it wouldn't be an issue. I almost looked away when something tickled at my thoughts and I took a second, better look. In the front of the line a really well dressed guy was laughing, pressing his fingers to his lips to contain his mirth. The guy beside him smiled, a bright flash of teeth, and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. The bad feeling tugged harder as the first guy laughed again. A little further back, a group of girls were chatting, wrapped in too-tight clothes and tottering in sky-high heels. Oddly, they seemed to be drawing a surprising lack of attention considering the number of single guys around. Something clicked in my head and I swore, apparently out loud because Ukitake cast me a questioning glance.
"Is this a gay bar?" I demanded, already knowing the answer and sounding a little sharper than I would have liked.
"Club," he corrected easily, like that was the fucking problem.
I could feel myself flushing but I couldn't find my words. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel; or what it meant about me; or what Urahara would think. Was Ukitake making a statement? Was he looking for a reaction or some sort of response?
"Kurosaki," he said quietly, drawing me from my spinning thoughts, and I could tell from his eyes that he'd read every one. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I simply thought that after the incident at Sol you might not be comfortable going back so soon."
I cringed a little as I felt Urahara's interest pique, and Ukitake sighed faintly, looking resignedly amused.
"When were you at the club?" Urahara asked predictably, raising a pale brow in the older man's direction. "And what sort of trouble were you getting into?"
"Wednesday," he supplied, sparing Urahara a guileless look, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized he intended to answer the question. "Kurosaki had an altercation with one of the patrons who'd had a little too much to drink."
I drew up just short of a sigh. I hadn't realized he'd seen that.
"Wednesday?" Urahara's brow slid higher, before his gaze narrowed as the wheels started to turn. "When exactly did the two of you first meet?"
"Monday," Ukitake said blandly, as unconcerned as ever. "He saw me on the street and opted to walk with me for awhile."
"Huh." Urahara nodded, lips curling up at one corner. "And then Wednesday, a day you incidentally claimed to be busy, you ended up at Sol, with Kurosaki-kun, and he managed to get into a fight?"
"I was busy," Ukitake corrected, a matching smirk pulling faintly. "And I'd hardly consider something which ended so quickly a true fight."
Urahara laughed, and even I managed a smile, despite my somewhat frayed nerves. He really did manage to boil my flailing, angsty, hormonal shit down to the simplest possible terms.
"Very dangerous fire, Ukitake-sempai," Urahara chuckled, something deeper lurking in his tone. He fished a phone out of his pocket and turned away. "I'm going to call Yoruichi and let her know we've changed venues."
Ukitake watched him drift off through the crowd, before turning back to me.
"I really do enjoy this place," he assured me softly, "and I meant you no discomfort."
"Its whatever," I shrugged. Once the initial shock wore off I hardly felt awkward at all. If we were all going inside, it could hardly be a statement meant to single me out.
"I also thought it might be easier for you," he admitted, explaining further when he caught my frown. "You said you disliked the attention from the other night and the way that it made you feel. Unfortunately, you and I would probably attract a degree of attention anywhere, for several reasons, but you will probably find the undercurrent a bit less hostile here."
"Oh," I said, because it probably did make sense. "I guess."
The conversation drew up short as Urahara made a reappearance, dropping the phone into his pocket and flashing me a way too bright smile.
"Shall we?" He motioned toward the club, pivoting around to lead the way.
A word or two had the bouncer holding the door, and apparently they hadn't been hiring because I didn't seem to warrant a second glance. The music was loud as it washed over my senses, but it lacked some of the finesse that I'd noticed at Sol. It appeared the Shinigami were leading the market in style.
Ukitake took a right at the edge of the packed dance floor, weaving through the crowd and back past the bar. Several sets of doors opened onto a roomy terrace, with a scattering of tables laid out in the crisp, night air. We slid into one of the last open spots, and Urahara signaled a waiter to order a round of drinks: two mineral waters and a Coke, real adventurous. No one in their right mind would have believed we fought monsters. I snickered under my breath at feeling so completely mundane. It was a fucking trip.
We'd been lounging for about 15 minutes when Yoruichi made her appearance, commanding attention in a way only she could manage. She was wearing the most dangerous looking shoes I'd ever seen, and what had to be the shortest dress she could legally wear in public. I really wasn't surprised; she'd never seemed overly concerned with modesty, after all. She didn't so much as blink when she saw me, so I guessed Urahara had filled her in. She did, however, give me a rather curious once-over as she slid into a chair, which made me wonder what else he might have said.
"Sneaking into gay bars, Ichigo?" She flashed me a knowing grin. "You got something you want to tell me?"
"Fuck off?" I tried, because it seemed like a good place to start. I'd gotten fairly used to her twisted sense of humor, having been subjected to the gauntlet during our previous time together. "Also, I didn't sneak anywhere, and it's a club, not a bar."
She just laughed, flagging down a waiter and ordering an unnecessary amount of liquor.
"I heard you got into a fight at my club," she said, reaching down to mess with the straps on her shoes. "Good to see you're keeping up with the troublemaking."
"I didn't start it," I grumbled, taking a sip of Coke and trying to ignore the chuckles from both Ukitake and Urahara.
"Of course not," she dismissed with a wave. "You never do."
She let out a little sound of frustration, propping her foot against the edge of the table to get a better look at whatever she was doing. I was mulling over a comeback when I glanced to the side and realized that the movement had pushed her skirt up to her hips, leaving me with a very uninhibited view of her panties. It's sad, but my first reaction was to be glad she was wearing them at all. Fucking Yoruichi. I snapped my attention back to a higher elevation.
"What on earth is giving you trouble?" Urahara laughed, shaking his head at her continued antics.
"I put these on too fast," she grumbled. "The straps are all twisted."
"I think you're going to give Kurosaki-kun a heart attack," he pointed out casually, catching her foot and hauling it into his lap.
She flashed a sly grin in my direction as his fingers moved smoothly over the leather.
"I doubt it," she drawled. "Not like he hasn't seen that and more."
I flushed as Urahara laughed again and shot a surreptitious glance in Ukitake's direction. He tipped his head faintly in question, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"I wasn't -," I started to explain, but it was just going to sound bad, so I rounded on Yoruichi instead. "That wasn't my fault."
"Which time?" She snorted, presenting Urahara with her other foot as he slid the first one to the ground.
"All of them," I shot back, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. "You're the one who has issues with clothes."
"No one made you look," she challenged, the shit-eating grin pulling wider.
"I didn't know you were naked," I exclaimed, feeling overly warm in the cool, night air, "or that you were sitting Indian-style at eye level. Who does that shit?"
"Oh, you meant that time?" She huffed. "I thought we were talking about the time I put on my shirt with no pants."
Even Ukitake was laughing by that point, and somehow, in the midst of it all, it became less about her trying to embarrass me, and more about the sparring banter. Maybe it had always been that way and she was just waiting for me to catch up.
"Oh right, 'cause it makes such a difference," I grumbled, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Wasn't that the time you kept offering to let me peek?"
"I think you did peek," she purred, smirking like she approved of my response. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you peeked every time."
I was saved from a need to reply by the arrival of her slew of drinks. I wouldn't have had much of a defense anyway, because it was probably true. It had been fucking embarrassing at the time, but I wasn't going to deny that she was hot.
She tossed back three shots in quick succession, like she was trying to catch up, except no one was ahead of her. Urahara pulled the forth from her hand and downed it himself, in an apparent effort to keep her from drowning herself. He snagged the final glass before she could get it, earning himself a punch on the arm that looked like it hurt.
"Anyone interested in," he paused to frown at the glass for a moment, "something blue?"
He tipped the glass slightly in my direction, as though giving me a chance to examine it for myself. I didn't bother asking if he knew how old I was, because I knew he did, so I just waved him off. He shrugged, eyeing the shit like he might have said the same thing and turned to Ukitake.
"How about it?" He shook the glass a little, "you want some unknown concoction of Yoruichi's that I'm assuming contains a lot of alcohol?"
"Tempting," Ukitake chuckled, "but I'll have to pass. I had some wine earlier in the week and I'm afraid it didn't sit well."
"That's unfortunate," Urahara sighed, sipping at the drink himself. He blanched, giving it a dirty look before handing it back to Yoruichi. "Any lingering effects?"
"No, I just don't want to chance it," Ukitake assured him.
"Good idea," Yoruichi nodded, setting the already empty glass on the table with the others. "Would be a shame to cut the night off early. We hardly ever get to go out."
"Indeed," he agreed softly, and for a second I could see the memory of all that was looming skate across their faces before it was quickly banished.
"I can't remember the last time I saw you dance," she lamented with a sigh, turning to me. "Have you ever seen him dance?"
I froze for a second, the memory of the other night slamming to the front of my mind. Apparently she either took my silence as a no, or wasn't really looking for an answer, because she just went on talking.
"It's incredible to watch," she told me sincerely, shaking her head a little in wonder. "Except that he never dances with anyone, so he's missing half the fun."
That was strange.
"You don't dance with people?" I asked, catching his eye as I turned to look at him.
"Yoruichi is exaggerating," he assured me with a chuckle. "I do occasionally dance with partners. I'm simply selective."
"Selective?" Yoruichi snorted, "he actually uses his reiatsu to set up a buffer. Not that most people could keep up, mind you."
He shook his head, still laughing faintly. "You make it sound worse than it is."
"Probably," she admitted with a grin, "but I'm curious, how many people have you danced with in, say, the last 5 years?"
"I've been busy the last few years," he admitted, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Two, I suppose."
My eyes snapped back to him and the corner of his mouth twitched up as he gave me a half-shrug.
"Shunsui doesn't count," Yoruichi declared, thoroughly enjoying the topic. "His drunken flailing doesn't count as dancing, and you always just end up laughing. Besides, it should only really count if there's a chance of getting laid, and fuck knows you and Shunsui aren't going there. That leaves you one person in 5 years!"
"I suppose it does," he conceded mildly, letting his gaze slide back to her. "Though I'd have to argue that there are many other reasons for dancing."
"Did you have some nobler reason with your mystery partner?" She tilted her chin in smug challenge, grinning like a cat.
Ukitake's brow cocked faintly as he raised his bottle to his lips, holding her stare with tranquil ease.
"Not as much as I should have," he admitted finally, smiling as she laughed like she'd scored a point.
I stared down at my glass as I processing this new development, wondering where it fit in the grander scheme of things. He said he'd been busy, and maybe that was true, but one person in 5 years seemed a bit more than selective. I felt a prickle along my spine and glanced up to meet Urahara's too shrewd gaze. Awesome, this night just kept getting better. I cocked an eyebrow in a bid for nonchalance, but I could feel the heat creeping into my face as I turned back toward the others.
"Enough sitting around," Yoruichi laughed, apparently having decided she'd won her battle. She stood, smoothing out her dress and gave me narrow, assessing look. "You wanna give it a shot?"
"Huh?" I blinked up at her, still lost in my own thoughts.
"Dancing, Ichigo," she sighed, looking at me like I was slow. "It's sorta like fighting except no one gets hurt. I'm sure you could figure it out."
"I'm good," I said quickly, sounding a little more concerned than I needed to be. "I'll just stay here."
"Aw, come on," she coaxed, flashing a grin, "I'll let you put your hands on my ass."
Right, the concern was warranted, how could I forget so soon?
"No, thanks." I shook my head, chuckling a little, "on both counts."
She laughed and turned to Urahara. "Guess I'm stuck with you."
"I'll try to live up to such high expectations," he drawled, sliding an arm around her and pulling her against him. "Does this mean I get to put my hands on your ass?"
"Like you have to ask." She elbowed him in the ribs with a cheeky grin and headed off to seek out the crowd.
I watched them disappear, toying with an old thought, before turning back to Ukitake.
"Are they…," I made a vague gesture that could have meant a lot of things, but I couldn't really think of the right word for it.
"For quite a long time now," he confirmed with a soft smile. "They're a rather interesting pair."
I'd suspected something for awhile, but it was somehow different knowing for sure. Not that it made any real difference.
"I hadn't intended to bring them tonight," Ukitake went on, swirling his mineral water slowly in its bottle. "Kisuke happened upon me while I was getting ready, and more or less invited himself. He's not easily dissuaded once he latches onto an idea."
I had personal experience with that, so I knew what it was like.
"It's fine," I waved him off, and it really was, even though it wasn't what I'd expected.
"You caught me off guard last night," he admitted, meeting my gaze steadily. "I dealt with you less directly than I should have, because I was heavily conflicted. I know that my indecisiveness caused your earlier uncertainty and I apologize for that."
"It's whatever," I gave him a half smile, "I get myself wound the fuck up without any help at all."
He chuckled, and a little strain I hadn't even noticed fell from his frame. He shook his head, looking slightly regretful. "I'll understand if you don't want to follow through with your offer, seeing that the situation has changed somewhat."
It took me a moment to understand he meant the dancing and I realized my plan had sorta gone to shit. If we went out there now it was pretty much guaranteed that Urahara and Yoruichi would see us eventually. There was no way around it. That would open up a whole box of shit, and leave me dodging all sorts of questions I didn't have answers for. It would be a hell of a lot easier to just let it go, leave the battle for another day when I had time to figure things out.
"Fuck that," I snorted, part in response to the prospect of thinking, and part to him.
"Pardon?" He cocked a brow in my direction, the bottle stilling between his fingers.
"Let's go," I said, before I could think of a reason not to. I reached out and pulled the bottle from his grasp, setting it next to Yoruichi's empty glasses as I stood.
He rose as well, staring down at me fondly. "This still isn't the best of ideas."
I narrowed my eyes; maybe he was right, but I didn't fucking care. "Dance with me, Juushiro."
His lips parted slightly, and I could tell it was what he'd been waiting for. A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought you'd never ask."
He slipped past me, catching my wrist as he went, passing through the terrace doors and back into the main room. The music pulsed around us, drowning the world in it's flow; a living, breathing thing as it writhed in the room. I could see it roll over him, settling under his skin, riding the sway of his body as he moved through the thickening crowd. He pause for a moment, head tilted slightly, as though listening for something in the jumble of sound. Whatever it was must have been to the left, because he looked briefly in that direction before steering me to the right. Somehow I got the feeling that Urahara and Yoruichi had been somewhere in that mix.
People brushed against me as we passed, swaying to the call of the beat. A hand slid over my hip, trying to pull me closer but I twisted away with an edge of irritation. A few seconds later something else brushed my ribs and a hot breath on my neck carried the heavy scent of liquor. I flinched and felt Ukitake's fingers tighten against my skin. His reiatsu uncoiled, slipping out into the heavy air, and the crowd eased away as it laced itself around us. He glanced over his shoulder, lips tilting faintly, eyes glittering dark in the flickering light.
He turned in the small clearing, releasing my wrist, swaying in place as he watched me for cues. I stepped a little closer and tried to catch the rhythm, but it seemed just as elusive as it had the time before. The problem was that I'd been following his rhythm, letting it flow through my body on the glide of his reiatsu. I wasn't sure if I could do this myself; feel it, and taste it, and surrender to it on my own.
He must have read my conflict because suddenly he was closer, his hands sliding over me to settle on my hips. He spun me around gently, one arm circling my waist, pulling me into contact with the warmth of his chest.
"Stop thinking about it," he chuckled, his words tickling the back of my ear, moving with the offbeat just as he had the time before.
I let my eyes slip closed, trailing my fingers through his reiatsu, following the roll of his body against mine. I could feel his rhythm in the burn against my skin, tingling through my blood like a whisper in my veins. Maybe Yoruichi was right, that it was the same as fighting, because everything in me narrowed to that single, writhing flow.
He sensed when I shifted, allowing me to turn, his reiatsu licking over me as I followed in his wake. His gaze slid to mine, drunk on the sway and pulse in the room, lashes sliding lower as he closed the space between us. His hand found my waist as his tempo slowly increased, eyes boring into me with a lazy sort of intensity. I followed him fluidly, reading his rhythm on the air, lost in the warmth of his fingers on my skin.
Time seemed to blur, lost to the drive of the beat, dragging me along with its silken, whispered call. He slid against me and then away, his hands gliding over me to show me the path. Beads of sweat rolled down my neck and I threw back my head, laughing as the tension slowly melted away. There was freedom in the music, in the pounding in my veins, and for that brief instant I was alive with its power.
I caught Ukitake's gaze, fixed heavily on me, watching my surrender like he could feel it in himself. My grin pulled wild and he smiled in return, and in that moment we were the only thing that mattered in the room. The rhythm shifted again and he pulled me a little closer, answering the darkening of its complex, pounding sway. My hand slid up his body, feeling the pounding in his chest, feeling the way it matched the music that was singing in my blood.
His teeth dragged over his lip as he let his eyes slide shut, sampling the freedom floating thick on the air. Lost in my surrender, I knew I wanted that, to taste the rhythm on him like he tasted it in the room. I leaned up smoothly, licking a trail across his lip, his breath a hot caress as it traced against my tongue. His eyes slid open when I pulled back slowly, studying me through his lashes as our bodies continued to move. He pulled his lip between his teeth, a smile dawning slowly as he tasted my lingering flavor.
I closed the space between us, catching him in a hasty, fumbling kiss. I was sloppy at best, and my approach was total shit, but I'd never needed anything more than to feel his smile against my lips.
I felt his rhythm falter, a hitched step before he slowed, his hands rising to frame my face as he gently pulled away. I tripped to a halt, staring up at him, confusion and frustration carrying on my damp, panting breath. I didn't know what to say; there was no way to take it back, and my heart skipped for an eternity in the second that hung between us.
He tilted his head slightly, brushing the tips of our noses together, his laugh stirring the air even as it was lost in the noise of the room. His lashes slid lower as he moved the last few inches, his lips sliding over mine with elegant, easy finesse. I let him guide me gently, bringing us better into sync, catching his languid gaze as he coaxed a slower pace.
His hands left my face, one sliding deeper into my hair, the other tracing around to splay along my lower back. He drew me against him, still swaying in time with the rhythm, pulling me into the music as his tongue traced over my lips. I let them part slowly, responding to his unspoken request, and rose up to meet him boldly as his tongue slid into my mouth.
I felt more than heard the sound that purred in his throat, my head spinning under the assault of the electric, foreign touch. He pulled me closer and I pressed up harder, the coil of his reiatsu tingling hot against my skin. He was still moving somehow, swaying slowly with fluid grace, and I was following mindlessly as his power sang against mine.
I couldn't get enough of him; couldn't feel enough, taste enough, be close enough. I felt a thrill of panic as my hands slid up his back, pulling him into me. It was like part of me was terrified that if I let him get away, it would vanish into nothing and I'd wake to the reality of my fractured, shallow life. I'd buried my childhood when I buried my mom, and I'd forsaken my peace when I'd taken up Rukia's sword. My life was conflict, for better or worse, and those moments of happiness were few and far between. I thought I'd resigned myself to the path that I'd chosen, but for that one, brief instant I found myself wishing for something more.
It had been too long since I'd forgotten how to smile; so many days passed not remembering how to laugh. I'd thought things were getting better, but my time with Ukitake had shown it as a pale shard of the life that might have been. I craved his touch like I craved the air in my lungs, like I craved the memory of happiness he seared across my brain. I had every reason to lose myself in that moment, but the echo of my fear kept whispering through my head: What if he was right? What if glimpses of happiness were all we got, to remind us of what we suffered to protect? I didn't think I could stand to see it all slip away.
He broke the kiss slowly, still holding me in place, leaning away slightly to stare down at me. My anxiety spiked and my eyes darted up, catching the whispers in his searching gaze. His hand slid through my hair, fingers curling against my nape, his thumb stroking the skin just behind my ear. I realized we'd stopped moving and that he was watching me with that look that said I might as well have spoken aloud.
I started to duck away, but his hand slipped forward, hooking beneath my jaw and tilting it back into place. His thumb stroked higher, tracing the curve of my cheek and he smiled, sad and understanding. He leaned down, resting his forehead briefly against mine, the damp tendrils of his hair tickling my equally damp skin.
I could already feel the easing in my chest as he pulled away a moment later, and I mirrored his smile with a faint tilt of my lips. Life was just fucked up sometimes, and there was nothing we could really do about it. I wondered vaguely if it would always be that way, or if there was still room for hope beyond the trials to come. His thumb slid down to follow the curve of my lip, and I smiled again, with a little more feeling. He leaned toward me slowly but something caught his eye and at the last second he diverted, jaw grazing my cheek as he pulled me closer.
"It seems I was more distracted than I thought," he said against my ear, words hardly carrying over the pulse of the music. "We appear to have an audience."
I glanced slowly over my shoulder and into the wide, golden eyes of a thoroughly stunned Yoruichi. Her jaw had actually gone a little slack and it would have been funny if not for the totally fucked situation. Beside her, Urahara cocked a brow at me, looking far less surprised than he should have been by a whole lot of things. Fucker. Ukitake's fingers slid over my back as he pulled them out from under my shirt, letting them fall to rest on my hip. I wondered vaguely how long they'd been there, and how long we'd been kissing, for that matter. I supposed it couldn't have been very long, but it really didn't matter when all was said and done. Duration wasn't a factor in the scope of my transgression.
I turned slowly to face them and Ukitake let his hand fall away, though he remained in place to shield me from the crowd. I really didn't know what to say at that point. What was there to say? There was no rational explanation for what had been going on, and there would never be an excuse to make it all go away. Fuck that, I didn't want to make an excuse. I didn't want to explain myself, or apologize for shit I wasn't sorry for, or look away like I was ashamed of what I'd done. I wasn't ashamed. I wasn't even embarrassed anymore, and like a ray of fucking sunlight pouring into my brain, I realized the simplicity of the truth: I just didn't care what they thought. Life was short and I was already living on borrowed time.
I looked back at Ukitake, meeting his calm, assessing gaze, giving him a little shrug because words weren't really necessary. I tilted my head in the direction of the door, my brow arching faintly as my lips started to curve. I saw his own smile echo in reply, and felt the flicker of something in my chest. Turning back to the others I took a step forward, leaning close to Yoruichi so she could hear me over the noise.
"I told you to fuck off for a reason," I reminded her, clapping her on the shoulder.
She twitched a little at the contact, lips parting as she turned, though she couldn't find the words in her still stunned state. One of her precarious heels skittered rough across the floor and Urahara had to catch her against him to keep her on her feet. He shook his head amusedly, shooting me a knowing glance, but I didn't even slow as I made my way through the crowd.
Fuck the world if it didn't like it, I just couldn't find the will to care anymore.
(next chapter)