Excuses [#29] [Yumikkaku] [Bleach]
Title :: Excuses
Theme :: #29, ‘Drunken brawl’ [30_wounds]
Pairing :: Yumikkaku
Rating :: PG-13 -- language, slander
Wordcount :: 659
Summary :: He knew that the shinigami from other divisions talked.
He knew that the shinigami from other divisions talked.
(“Personally, I think we have more to fear from those Division 11 guys than the hollows themselves.”
“Yeah, but we ought to be glad they did become shinigami. Otherwise, they’d probably just be killing us all for the hell of it.”
“Who the hell gives unbalanced mental cases lethal weapons, though? And clearly Division 11 is as unbalanced as they come.”)
But for the most part, Ikkaku didn’t mind. His captain didn’t care - and tended to find it amusing, actually - and so that was good enough for him. Ikkaku just tuned it out, let it become nothing more than white noise, and concentrated on Kenpachi’s words instead -- Let the bastards talk. The more frightened they are of us, the more fun we’ll have if we ever get the chance to kick their pathetic asses.
But sometimes, especially when there was alcohol involved, the words started getting a little out of hand. And Kenpachi or no Kenpachi, there were some things that Ikkaku just couldn’t ignore.
“How in fuck did that little faggot make it all the way to Fifth Seat, anyway? He’d be useless in a real fight - he doesn’t care about anything past how he looks, and it’d be the end of the damn world if he wrinkled his clothes or got blood on himself. Anyone with eyes can see that, and can see that he doesn’t deserve his rank; he must’ve just been spreading his legs for whatever higher-up that happened to notice.”
Almost before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Ikkaku had crossed the room, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his face into the bar. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone as the other man’s nose broke, heard his startled yelps of pain, and a wildly fierce grin appeared on Ikkaku’s lips.
“If you want to know how Yumichika got his rank so badly, I suggest you go ask him yourself. Be sure to mention all the shit you said just now. And I promise you, you’ll see how his fighting skills earned him Fifth Seat.”
“Bastard,” the shinigami hissed, jerking away from Ikkaku and back to his feet, blood streaming from his nose and down his face. “You’re Third Seat, aren’t you? That explains it - you must’ve been one of the ones he whored himself to. I should’ve known, the way you two are always clinging together like a bunch of faggots - at least now we know why he acts so interested in you -”
Ten seconds later, and it was his arm that broke.
“There’s another opinion you might want to rethink,” Ikkaku growled, hand now hovering over the hilt of his zanpakutou, grin twisting into a snarl.
The fight didn’t last for long after that, and after the shinigami had sprinted away like a fucking coward, no one else even dared to open their mouths. And after giving everyone in turn a glare that would ensure they never did open their mouths, Ikkaku stormed away himself.
If he stayed, he’d just beat the shit out of someone else, whether they talked or not.
Kenpachi asked him later why he even bothered, and Ikkaku shrugged and gave the most obvious answer -- He was too easy a target to pass up, and then he was dumb enough to give me an excuse.
But Yumichika just smiled and had him in bed for hours that night, and Ikkaku forced himself not to think too hard about just how perceptive his lover really was, forced himself to not try and ply him with excuses as he had Kenpachi. (He knew it would never work, anyway; not on Yumichika.)
And then by the time Yumichika was done with him he really couldn’t think at all, let alone speak.
But that was okay. Sometimes, you don’t need words. Sometimes, you just need to beat the shit out of someone for their words instead.
Theme :: #29, ‘Drunken brawl’ [30_wounds]
Pairing :: Yumikkaku
Rating :: PG-13 -- language, slander
Wordcount :: 659
Summary :: He knew that the shinigami from other divisions talked.
He knew that the shinigami from other divisions talked.
(“Personally, I think we have more to fear from those Division 11 guys than the hollows themselves.”
“Yeah, but we ought to be glad they did become shinigami. Otherwise, they’d probably just be killing us all for the hell of it.”
“Who the hell gives unbalanced mental cases lethal weapons, though? And clearly Division 11 is as unbalanced as they come.”)
But for the most part, Ikkaku didn’t mind. His captain didn’t care - and tended to find it amusing, actually - and so that was good enough for him. Ikkaku just tuned it out, let it become nothing more than white noise, and concentrated on Kenpachi’s words instead -- Let the bastards talk. The more frightened they are of us, the more fun we’ll have if we ever get the chance to kick their pathetic asses.
But sometimes, especially when there was alcohol involved, the words started getting a little out of hand. And Kenpachi or no Kenpachi, there were some things that Ikkaku just couldn’t ignore.
“How in fuck did that little faggot make it all the way to Fifth Seat, anyway? He’d be useless in a real fight - he doesn’t care about anything past how he looks, and it’d be the end of the damn world if he wrinkled his clothes or got blood on himself. Anyone with eyes can see that, and can see that he doesn’t deserve his rank; he must’ve just been spreading his legs for whatever higher-up that happened to notice.”
Almost before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Ikkaku had crossed the room, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his face into the bar. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone as the other man’s nose broke, heard his startled yelps of pain, and a wildly fierce grin appeared on Ikkaku’s lips.
“If you want to know how Yumichika got his rank so badly, I suggest you go ask him yourself. Be sure to mention all the shit you said just now. And I promise you, you’ll see how his fighting skills earned him Fifth Seat.”
“Bastard,” the shinigami hissed, jerking away from Ikkaku and back to his feet, blood streaming from his nose and down his face. “You’re Third Seat, aren’t you? That explains it - you must’ve been one of the ones he whored himself to. I should’ve known, the way you two are always clinging together like a bunch of faggots - at least now we know why he acts so interested in you -”
Ten seconds later, and it was his arm that broke.
“There’s another opinion you might want to rethink,” Ikkaku growled, hand now hovering over the hilt of his zanpakutou, grin twisting into a snarl.
The fight didn’t last for long after that, and after the shinigami had sprinted away like a fucking coward, no one else even dared to open their mouths. And after giving everyone in turn a glare that would ensure they never did open their mouths, Ikkaku stormed away himself.
If he stayed, he’d just beat the shit out of someone else, whether they talked or not.
Kenpachi asked him later why he even bothered, and Ikkaku shrugged and gave the most obvious answer -- He was too easy a target to pass up, and then he was dumb enough to give me an excuse.
But Yumichika just smiled and had him in bed for hours that night, and Ikkaku forced himself not to think too hard about just how perceptive his lover really was, forced himself to not try and ply him with excuses as he had Kenpachi. (He knew it would never work, anyway; not on Yumichika.)
And then by the time Yumichika was done with him he really couldn’t think at all, let alone speak.
But that was okay. Sometimes, you don’t need words. Sometimes, you just need to beat the shit out of someone for their words instead.