Points of View [Yumikkaku] [Bleach]
Title :: Points of View
Pairing :: Yumikkaku
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 600
Summary :: Maybe they just didn’t care.
He didn’t give a shit whether Yumichika was beautiful or not. (His hands were amazing, both in battle and in bed, and that was really the only thing that mattered to Ikkaku.) He never even bothered to take notice of all the fancy clothes Yumichika wore, the ones that the other man took such pride in acquiring and maintaining. (He just wanted to rip them off.) He didn’t care about all the damn accessories he had, either, like the feathers. (Well, that was a lie. He did care about the feathers once, when Yumichika got inventive and put them to rather…interesting use.)
He didn’t care which one of them was the stronger, who could defeat who in battle. (The fighting they did in bed was more than enough to satisfy even Ikkaku.) He didn’t care which one of them was higher ranked, either. (Ikkaku was, but in the bedroom Yumichika topped, so it all balanced nicely.)
He didn’t care that he was a warrior first and foremost, and that therefore he shouldn’t even think of these things at all. (Yumichika was his partner in battle, first, so wasn’t this just a natural extension of things?) He didn’t care that their fellow warriors talked and gossiped behind their backs. (Ikkaku could smash them all into pieces, if it came to that, and he’d have a damn good time doing it, too.)
He didn’t care that he could never bring himself to tell Yumichika any of these things, because he knew that Yumichika realised them anyway.
☆
Yumichika didn’t mind that Ikkaku wasn’t beautiful. (After all, he could only be jealous of a partner prettier than himself.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku had no sense of fashion, and chose all of his wardrobe based on functionality rather than looks. (No matter what he wore, Ikkaku was always able to get himself out of it quickly enough, so that was fine.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku’s only idea of an ‘accessory’ was blood splattered across his face and neck - preferably not his own. (He always let Yumichika kiss and lick it off, and then Yumichika would cover Ikkaku’s mouth with his, and Ikkaku never realised that his resulting bloodstained lips looked painted.)
He didn’t care which one of them was the stronger, who could defeat who in battle. (The fight would be beautiful, no matter who won, and they would both come out of it glorious messes, victor or no.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku outranked him. (Everyone knew that Yumichika was the prettier one, anyway.)
He didn’t care that Ikkaku was a warrior first and foremost, one who put battle before anything else. (If he wasn’t, Yumichika never would have fallen in love with the beautiful bloodlust in his eyes.) He didn’t that their fellow fighters talked, gossiped behind their backs, called them unlovely names. (They would have talked anyway, Yumichika knew; the uglier ones were always envious of the beautiful.)
He didn’t care that Ikkaku wasn’t a verbose lover, that he never even bothered to tell Yumichika that he was beautiful. He made Yumichika feel beautiful, even without words, and so that was more than enough.
☆
It didn’t matter that no one else understood them, how they fit together. (The compulsive, wild fighter and the effeminate beauty queen; how does that work?) It didn’t matter that no one understood them separately, either. (There was more to them both than just bloodlust and beauty, even if no one else ever saw it.)
They made sense to each other, and together they were something both so fierce and beautiful that each was perfectly content.
Pairing :: Yumikkaku
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 600
Summary :: Maybe they just didn’t care.
He didn’t give a shit whether Yumichika was beautiful or not. (His hands were amazing, both in battle and in bed, and that was really the only thing that mattered to Ikkaku.) He never even bothered to take notice of all the fancy clothes Yumichika wore, the ones that the other man took such pride in acquiring and maintaining. (He just wanted to rip them off.) He didn’t care about all the damn accessories he had, either, like the feathers. (Well, that was a lie. He did care about the feathers once, when Yumichika got inventive and put them to rather…interesting use.)
He didn’t care which one of them was the stronger, who could defeat who in battle. (The fighting they did in bed was more than enough to satisfy even Ikkaku.) He didn’t care which one of them was higher ranked, either. (Ikkaku was, but in the bedroom Yumichika topped, so it all balanced nicely.)
He didn’t care that he was a warrior first and foremost, and that therefore he shouldn’t even think of these things at all. (Yumichika was his partner in battle, first, so wasn’t this just a natural extension of things?) He didn’t care that their fellow warriors talked and gossiped behind their backs. (Ikkaku could smash them all into pieces, if it came to that, and he’d have a damn good time doing it, too.)
He didn’t care that he could never bring himself to tell Yumichika any of these things, because he knew that Yumichika realised them anyway.
☆
Yumichika didn’t mind that Ikkaku wasn’t beautiful. (After all, he could only be jealous of a partner prettier than himself.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku had no sense of fashion, and chose all of his wardrobe based on functionality rather than looks. (No matter what he wore, Ikkaku was always able to get himself out of it quickly enough, so that was fine.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku’s only idea of an ‘accessory’ was blood splattered across his face and neck - preferably not his own. (He always let Yumichika kiss and lick it off, and then Yumichika would cover Ikkaku’s mouth with his, and Ikkaku never realised that his resulting bloodstained lips looked painted.)
He didn’t care which one of them was the stronger, who could defeat who in battle. (The fight would be beautiful, no matter who won, and they would both come out of it glorious messes, victor or no.) He didn’t care that Ikkaku outranked him. (Everyone knew that Yumichika was the prettier one, anyway.)
He didn’t care that Ikkaku was a warrior first and foremost, one who put battle before anything else. (If he wasn’t, Yumichika never would have fallen in love with the beautiful bloodlust in his eyes.) He didn’t that their fellow fighters talked, gossiped behind their backs, called them unlovely names. (They would have talked anyway, Yumichika knew; the uglier ones were always envious of the beautiful.)
He didn’t care that Ikkaku wasn’t a verbose lover, that he never even bothered to tell Yumichika that he was beautiful. He made Yumichika feel beautiful, even without words, and so that was more than enough.
☆
It didn’t matter that no one else understood them, how they fit together. (The compulsive, wild fighter and the effeminate beauty queen; how does that work?) It didn’t matter that no one understood them separately, either. (There was more to them both than just bloodlust and beauty, even if no one else ever saw it.)
They made sense to each other, and together they were something both so fierce and beautiful that each was perfectly content.