NAHAHA Beware My Sappy Drabbledom!
Disclaimer: Nope, Bleach Still Not Mine.
Title: A Lift Home
Author: Zeffyface
Rating: PG 13 - All Language, No Love. Sorry, I do try.
Warnings: Nothing I can think of?
Pairings: Renji and Ichigo, yay!
Note: Everyone here should go give love to Muse, without whom I probably couldn't write. And read Akuni, who I shamelessly use for reference every time I do this pairing. Yes.
Also, I apologize for writing one of the most incredibly cliché, overused RenIchi plotlines known to man. I’ll try not to do it again.
And I think I should apologize Silverkytten, because I think I managed to accidentally sound like an Insomnia wannabe at some points. Swear it wasn’t my intention.
All of that said, I still had fun getting this idea out of my system, and proving once again that I can’t write a drabble to save my life.
Ichigo landed with a light pat of sandals on sod and immediately collapsed to his knees against a sudden wave of dizziness. Sheathing Zangetsu into the earth beside him he halfheartedly watched the hollow in front of him vanish into the air, screaming its outrage until the final particle dissapeared. “Yeah, yeah…”Closing his eyes in confused weariness he gave up and sat down, attempting to figure out why he suddenly could not move properly. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers experimentally, finding the movement disturbingly difficult.
“Oi, Ichigo, ya done already?” Luckily for him, Ichigo did not need to turn around to identify the voice. He sighed and resumed his task of trying to remove the leaden feeling from his arm.
“Yeah, wasn’t much of a fight, even for a rank four.” He made an effort to shrug a shoulder as he heard Renji’s heavier footsteps behind him. “How about you?”
Renji snorted. “Easy, didn’t even try and get away.” He paused, raising an eyebrow and stepping around the seated figure to give him a searching look. “What’s up with your reiatsu?”
Ichigo furrowed his brow at the question and stretched out his awareness, what sensing skills he possessed to himself. Brown eyes widened at the discovery: his usually free-flowing energy dampened to a near standstill. Well, he considered, that would explain the problems moving. “Don’t know, really.” He blinked at Renji, who had crouched down to eye level and was scanning his body for something, the red gaze finally coming to rest just behind his shoulder. With a soft ‘hmm’ of realization the redhead pulled the fabric of his sleeve down to cover his fingers and reached up, barely brushing the orange hair at Ichigo’s neck. The teen instinctively tried to shy away, but in his current state only managed a half-flinch. “Renji, what-”
“Just hold still a sec, and I’ll show you.” There was a soft twinge at his back, and then Renji pulled his hand away to present a thin, barbed quill with a bloodstained tip held carefully between clothed fingers. “Not as many pain sensors there.” He made a face at the quill, tattooed brows furrowing as he wiped the needle-like object on the grass and watched it dissolve. “Looks like making contact with your reiatsu helped it stay put longer.”
Ichigo flexed his stabling grip on Zangetsu’s hilt and willed himself to not pay attention to the way the world had begun to sway. “What was it?” He forced out, glaring at the spot where the projectile disappeared.
Renji rubbed the back of his neck absently, frowning in thought while he continued to watch the other’s face. “From what I can tell you got drugged by whatever was on that quill, probably a knockout. We’ve run into some hollows that can do that - distract and use special poison to block the reiatsu of their prey.” Renji offered a half smile “Guess it didn’t count on that monster you call spirit pressure causing a delayed reaction.”
“Grand, I get poisoned.” Ichigo rolled his eyes and groaned when the movement made the ground sway unpleasantly. “This stuff is shit.”
“Well if it’s half as bad as how you look I’m sure it is.” Renji nodded thoughtfully. Had Ichigo not had his eyes clamped shut he would have glared.
“Fuck you.” That drew a snort of laughter from the other while Ichigo glowered, muttering “Tattooed bastard.”
Renji let out a low whistle. “Man, you’re cranky as hell when you’re drugged off your ass.”
“Well, why don’t we wait for another one to stick you and see how you take it?” Ichigo snapped, and then sighed. “So how do we get this shit out of me so I can move again?”
Renji shifted from his crouch to stand again. “Nothin’ we can do, really. From what I feel your energy’s already fought off most of the restraints - it’s just gonna have to finish naturally. Which means we should probably get you home so you can sleep it off.”
Ichigo had barely listened past the first sentence, his mind absorbed with finding every single curse word it knew and stringing them together. His arms and legs felt like wet noodles, like impossibly heavy wet noodles. It was suffocating, claustrophobic, trapped in his own body and unable to do anything about it. When he finally processed the second part he somewhat sourly wondered if he could even walk before trying to force his legs to stand. It felt like moving through hardening cement, but he managed to plant his feet and push off, using Zangetsu for support. The moment he finally achieved an upright position, however, a fresh smack of dizziness sent him back towards the ground with practiced ease. Almost immediately he felt strong fingers slide beneath his armpits, changing his fall into a gentle lowering to the soft earth. Behind his ear he heard Renji sigh.
“I didn’t mean like that dumbass, you can’t walk.” Ichigo shivered at the brush of air the voice brought before Renji released him, and he was suddenly aware of a familiar weight gone missing. When the redhead walked around he was presented with what it was - Zangetsu’s red sword belt was now fastened across Renji’s chest instead of his own. The redhead casually removed Ichigo’s fingers from the hilt of the giant zanpakto and lifted it, securing it to his back like it always belonged there.
“Renji, what the hell?”
The addressed rolled his shoulders before glancing over with a shrug. “Well you can’t carry it, and I ain’t making two trips.”
“Two…” Something clicked in Ichigo’s head, brown eyes widening in a mix of realization and horror. “Oh, hell no. No fucking way.”
Renji raised an eyebrow in annoyance. “You gonna fly home?”
“I’ll walk!”
“You can’t even stand!”
“Like hell I can’t!” To prove his point Ichigo made another attempt, pressing his hands into the earth to find purchase. It was excruciatingly slow, but he could do it…
“Ichigo, stop. If you make yourself worse you’ll be out longer.” Ignoring the suddenly serious tone in Renji’s voice, Ichigo stubbornly continued until his hand slipped against the ground and sent him back down with a growl of frustration. He settled for sending his most terrifying ‘Don’t fuck with me’ glare at the other man, but found it matched into a stalemate by Renji’s own.
“There is no way I am letting you carry me like an invalid!” A small voice in the back of Ichigo’s head noted that in his current condition the other man really didn’t need his permission, and could probably pick him up like a rag doll. He crushed the voice into oblivion and resumed his task of looking menacing.
“You’re not an invalid, you’re injured, and you can’t expect me to just run off and leave ya sitting here!” He waved an arm in agitation before planting it against his hip. “We get beat up all the time, didja think we all magically appear in the infirmary?”
“This is different, all right?” Ichigo relinquished his stare and looked sullenly at the ground. It was true, before he had always been unconscious or in too severe a condition to notice the humiliation of being carried around by another person. Of course, asking Renji to knock him out didn’t exactly seem courageous on his part. He idly flexed his fingers in the grass, the digits barely moving in a feeble sort of twitch.
He heard quiet footfalls as Renji knelt in front of him again, face softened back from its previous glare. “Look, it’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone. We already have information on that kind of hollow, so there’s no need to report either.” He blew out a breath, one hand rubbing the white bandanna he looked off into the deserted field. “It’s shit being where you’re at, I know it. But after getting the shit beat outta ya enough times ya realize never leaving anyone behind also means not expectin’ to get left. S’what teams are. And next time you can listen to me bitch while you carry me.”
Ichigo’s mouth reacted in an indignant “I’m not bitching!” before his mind registered the surprising thoughtfulness of the other’s words, leaving him quietly gaping in incredulous disbelief.
Renji smirked. “Okay, argument’s over now.”
“Whaddaya - WAH!” In a single fluid movement, Renji had slid his arms under Ichigo’s knees and around his back, cradling the slimmer form to his chest while he stood and started walking. Squeezing his eyes shut while the world finished spinning, Ichigo grumbled out. “Coulda given a warning or something, bastard.”
“Hmm, maybe. Your house is four blocks this way, right?” Each word sent a gentle buzz from Renji’s muscled chest through Ichigo’s side, startling him momentarily. The odd feeling harped again on their close proximity, but somehow was not as awkward as it should have been. It was…fascinating really, perhaps too much so considering his position. Belatedly, Ichigo realized the question and hummed a soft agreement. Renji seemed to not notice the pause. “Okay. We’ll just walk it, then. Shunpo with an extra person s’a pain in the ass without adrenaline.” Yes, far too interesting. From the back of his mind Ichigo noted the remainder of his wakefulness beginning to shut down, all of the previous strain rushing up to claim a bit of unconsciousness. What was left focused on the quiet, rhythmic tapping of footfalls that rocked him, but in such a different way than his previous movements had. This was not a swirling maelstrom in a sea of dizziness, this was floating.
Somewhere in his musings he registered a jab about his weight and mumbled a halfhearted “Shut up” before closing his eyes again, his head involuntarily dipping forward to rest against Renji’s chest. He could feel a soft pulse and the rise and fall of warmth beneath his cheek, each playing off of and adding to the steady beat of footfalls. Unconsciously he pressed himself closer, attempting to hear the wordless music better as it carried him off into some warm, comfortable place that smelled like Renji.
*
*
“Ichigo?” Steady breathing greeted Renji’s quiet call as he glanced down, unable to see the face pressed to his chest beneath the mop of orange hair. “Hnf. Idiot.” The insult carried little weight when paired with the gentle sparkle that crinkled the red eyes. Carefully Renji shifted his hold to bring the substitute shinigami’s sleeping form a little closer and ward off the slowly chilling air. Thankfully Ichigo’s window had been left open, and one well placed jump landed the encumbered vice-captain on the sill to allow him to slip into the room.
Ichigo’s body lay under the covers of the bed, apparently asleep should anyone look. Shifting the soul in his arms, Renji pulled back the blankets and eased Ichigo back into his living form, trying not to notice the soft noise of protest and furrowed orange brows when he released him. Zangetsu and the belt disappeared from Renji’s back, the zanpakto following his master’s spirit until he was needed again. Feeling suddenly off balance from his lack of burdens Renji sank down on the edge of the bed, absently pulling the blankets back up across the firm torso and tucking in the corners. The orange-haired substitute’s reaitsu was already beginning to pulse silently, refilling without the drug’s impairment and proving once again Ichigo’s ability to bounce back from anything.
:Oi. Earth to Renji. What’re you doin?:
“Eh?” Renji registered the voice of Zabimaru in his mind with some confusion, before he realized that in his musings he had stopped smoothing the covers and was now running his fingers through Ichigo’s unexpectedly soft orange hair. He froze, and then drew his hand away, examining it like it may bite him. It was time to go.
:Yeah, not getting off that easy. What was that?:
“Me being overprotective, dumbass, same as always.” Renji stood from the bed and lightly jumped into the windowsill again, giving the room a cursory look.
:Don’t play dumb. Never saw you petting Rukia’s hair or tucking her in at night.:
“Not now, Zabimaru. Just…” Renji’s eyes settled again on the sleeping face, inked brows furrowed in confusion. “…not now.” His zanpakto’s voice remained silent while he carefully shut the window against the night air and leapt to a nearby roof, but the unspoken message ran clear.
Thinking could wait until tomorrow, but it would have to come eventually, especially when his arms continued feeling uncomfortably light and cold when they should have long compensated for the lack of a certain teen’s weight.
Title: A Lift Home
Author: Zeffyface
Rating: PG 13 - All Language, No Love. Sorry, I do try.
Warnings: Nothing I can think of?
Pairings: Renji and Ichigo, yay!
Note: Everyone here should go give love to Muse, without whom I probably couldn't write. And read Akuni, who I shamelessly use for reference every time I do this pairing. Yes.
Also, I apologize for writing one of the most incredibly cliché, overused RenIchi plotlines known to man. I’ll try not to do it again.
And I think I should apologize Silverkytten, because I think I managed to accidentally sound like an Insomnia wannabe at some points. Swear it wasn’t my intention.
All of that said, I still had fun getting this idea out of my system, and proving once again that I can’t write a drabble to save my life.
Ichigo landed with a light pat of sandals on sod and immediately collapsed to his knees against a sudden wave of dizziness. Sheathing Zangetsu into the earth beside him he halfheartedly watched the hollow in front of him vanish into the air, screaming its outrage until the final particle dissapeared. “Yeah, yeah…”Closing his eyes in confused weariness he gave up and sat down, attempting to figure out why he suddenly could not move properly. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers experimentally, finding the movement disturbingly difficult.
“Oi, Ichigo, ya done already?” Luckily for him, Ichigo did not need to turn around to identify the voice. He sighed and resumed his task of trying to remove the leaden feeling from his arm.
“Yeah, wasn’t much of a fight, even for a rank four.” He made an effort to shrug a shoulder as he heard Renji’s heavier footsteps behind him. “How about you?”
Renji snorted. “Easy, didn’t even try and get away.” He paused, raising an eyebrow and stepping around the seated figure to give him a searching look. “What’s up with your reiatsu?”
Ichigo furrowed his brow at the question and stretched out his awareness, what sensing skills he possessed to himself. Brown eyes widened at the discovery: his usually free-flowing energy dampened to a near standstill. Well, he considered, that would explain the problems moving. “Don’t know, really.” He blinked at Renji, who had crouched down to eye level and was scanning his body for something, the red gaze finally coming to rest just behind his shoulder. With a soft ‘hmm’ of realization the redhead pulled the fabric of his sleeve down to cover his fingers and reached up, barely brushing the orange hair at Ichigo’s neck. The teen instinctively tried to shy away, but in his current state only managed a half-flinch. “Renji, what-”
“Just hold still a sec, and I’ll show you.” There was a soft twinge at his back, and then Renji pulled his hand away to present a thin, barbed quill with a bloodstained tip held carefully between clothed fingers. “Not as many pain sensors there.” He made a face at the quill, tattooed brows furrowing as he wiped the needle-like object on the grass and watched it dissolve. “Looks like making contact with your reiatsu helped it stay put longer.”
Ichigo flexed his stabling grip on Zangetsu’s hilt and willed himself to not pay attention to the way the world had begun to sway. “What was it?” He forced out, glaring at the spot where the projectile disappeared.
Renji rubbed the back of his neck absently, frowning in thought while he continued to watch the other’s face. “From what I can tell you got drugged by whatever was on that quill, probably a knockout. We’ve run into some hollows that can do that - distract and use special poison to block the reiatsu of their prey.” Renji offered a half smile “Guess it didn’t count on that monster you call spirit pressure causing a delayed reaction.”
“Grand, I get poisoned.” Ichigo rolled his eyes and groaned when the movement made the ground sway unpleasantly. “This stuff is shit.”
“Well if it’s half as bad as how you look I’m sure it is.” Renji nodded thoughtfully. Had Ichigo not had his eyes clamped shut he would have glared.
“Fuck you.” That drew a snort of laughter from the other while Ichigo glowered, muttering “Tattooed bastard.”
Renji let out a low whistle. “Man, you’re cranky as hell when you’re drugged off your ass.”
“Well, why don’t we wait for another one to stick you and see how you take it?” Ichigo snapped, and then sighed. “So how do we get this shit out of me so I can move again?”
Renji shifted from his crouch to stand again. “Nothin’ we can do, really. From what I feel your energy’s already fought off most of the restraints - it’s just gonna have to finish naturally. Which means we should probably get you home so you can sleep it off.”
Ichigo had barely listened past the first sentence, his mind absorbed with finding every single curse word it knew and stringing them together. His arms and legs felt like wet noodles, like impossibly heavy wet noodles. It was suffocating, claustrophobic, trapped in his own body and unable to do anything about it. When he finally processed the second part he somewhat sourly wondered if he could even walk before trying to force his legs to stand. It felt like moving through hardening cement, but he managed to plant his feet and push off, using Zangetsu for support. The moment he finally achieved an upright position, however, a fresh smack of dizziness sent him back towards the ground with practiced ease. Almost immediately he felt strong fingers slide beneath his armpits, changing his fall into a gentle lowering to the soft earth. Behind his ear he heard Renji sigh.
“I didn’t mean like that dumbass, you can’t walk.” Ichigo shivered at the brush of air the voice brought before Renji released him, and he was suddenly aware of a familiar weight gone missing. When the redhead walked around he was presented with what it was - Zangetsu’s red sword belt was now fastened across Renji’s chest instead of his own. The redhead casually removed Ichigo’s fingers from the hilt of the giant zanpakto and lifted it, securing it to his back like it always belonged there.
“Renji, what the hell?”
The addressed rolled his shoulders before glancing over with a shrug. “Well you can’t carry it, and I ain’t making two trips.”
“Two…” Something clicked in Ichigo’s head, brown eyes widening in a mix of realization and horror. “Oh, hell no. No fucking way.”
Renji raised an eyebrow in annoyance. “You gonna fly home?”
“I’ll walk!”
“You can’t even stand!”
“Like hell I can’t!” To prove his point Ichigo made another attempt, pressing his hands into the earth to find purchase. It was excruciatingly slow, but he could do it…
“Ichigo, stop. If you make yourself worse you’ll be out longer.” Ignoring the suddenly serious tone in Renji’s voice, Ichigo stubbornly continued until his hand slipped against the ground and sent him back down with a growl of frustration. He settled for sending his most terrifying ‘Don’t fuck with me’ glare at the other man, but found it matched into a stalemate by Renji’s own.
“There is no way I am letting you carry me like an invalid!” A small voice in the back of Ichigo’s head noted that in his current condition the other man really didn’t need his permission, and could probably pick him up like a rag doll. He crushed the voice into oblivion and resumed his task of looking menacing.
“You’re not an invalid, you’re injured, and you can’t expect me to just run off and leave ya sitting here!” He waved an arm in agitation before planting it against his hip. “We get beat up all the time, didja think we all magically appear in the infirmary?”
“This is different, all right?” Ichigo relinquished his stare and looked sullenly at the ground. It was true, before he had always been unconscious or in too severe a condition to notice the humiliation of being carried around by another person. Of course, asking Renji to knock him out didn’t exactly seem courageous on his part. He idly flexed his fingers in the grass, the digits barely moving in a feeble sort of twitch.
He heard quiet footfalls as Renji knelt in front of him again, face softened back from its previous glare. “Look, it’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone. We already have information on that kind of hollow, so there’s no need to report either.” He blew out a breath, one hand rubbing the white bandanna he looked off into the deserted field. “It’s shit being where you’re at, I know it. But after getting the shit beat outta ya enough times ya realize never leaving anyone behind also means not expectin’ to get left. S’what teams are. And next time you can listen to me bitch while you carry me.”
Ichigo’s mouth reacted in an indignant “I’m not bitching!” before his mind registered the surprising thoughtfulness of the other’s words, leaving him quietly gaping in incredulous disbelief.
Renji smirked. “Okay, argument’s over now.”
“Whaddaya - WAH!” In a single fluid movement, Renji had slid his arms under Ichigo’s knees and around his back, cradling the slimmer form to his chest while he stood and started walking. Squeezing his eyes shut while the world finished spinning, Ichigo grumbled out. “Coulda given a warning or something, bastard.”
“Hmm, maybe. Your house is four blocks this way, right?” Each word sent a gentle buzz from Renji’s muscled chest through Ichigo’s side, startling him momentarily. The odd feeling harped again on their close proximity, but somehow was not as awkward as it should have been. It was…fascinating really, perhaps too much so considering his position. Belatedly, Ichigo realized the question and hummed a soft agreement. Renji seemed to not notice the pause. “Okay. We’ll just walk it, then. Shunpo with an extra person s’a pain in the ass without adrenaline.” Yes, far too interesting. From the back of his mind Ichigo noted the remainder of his wakefulness beginning to shut down, all of the previous strain rushing up to claim a bit of unconsciousness. What was left focused on the quiet, rhythmic tapping of footfalls that rocked him, but in such a different way than his previous movements had. This was not a swirling maelstrom in a sea of dizziness, this was floating.
Somewhere in his musings he registered a jab about his weight and mumbled a halfhearted “Shut up” before closing his eyes again, his head involuntarily dipping forward to rest against Renji’s chest. He could feel a soft pulse and the rise and fall of warmth beneath his cheek, each playing off of and adding to the steady beat of footfalls. Unconsciously he pressed himself closer, attempting to hear the wordless music better as it carried him off into some warm, comfortable place that smelled like Renji.
*
*
“Ichigo?” Steady breathing greeted Renji’s quiet call as he glanced down, unable to see the face pressed to his chest beneath the mop of orange hair. “Hnf. Idiot.” The insult carried little weight when paired with the gentle sparkle that crinkled the red eyes. Carefully Renji shifted his hold to bring the substitute shinigami’s sleeping form a little closer and ward off the slowly chilling air. Thankfully Ichigo’s window had been left open, and one well placed jump landed the encumbered vice-captain on the sill to allow him to slip into the room.
Ichigo’s body lay under the covers of the bed, apparently asleep should anyone look. Shifting the soul in his arms, Renji pulled back the blankets and eased Ichigo back into his living form, trying not to notice the soft noise of protest and furrowed orange brows when he released him. Zangetsu and the belt disappeared from Renji’s back, the zanpakto following his master’s spirit until he was needed again. Feeling suddenly off balance from his lack of burdens Renji sank down on the edge of the bed, absently pulling the blankets back up across the firm torso and tucking in the corners. The orange-haired substitute’s reaitsu was already beginning to pulse silently, refilling without the drug’s impairment and proving once again Ichigo’s ability to bounce back from anything.
:Oi. Earth to Renji. What’re you doin?:
“Eh?” Renji registered the voice of Zabimaru in his mind with some confusion, before he realized that in his musings he had stopped smoothing the covers and was now running his fingers through Ichigo’s unexpectedly soft orange hair. He froze, and then drew his hand away, examining it like it may bite him. It was time to go.
:Yeah, not getting off that easy. What was that?:
“Me being overprotective, dumbass, same as always.” Renji stood from the bed and lightly jumped into the windowsill again, giving the room a cursory look.
:Don’t play dumb. Never saw you petting Rukia’s hair or tucking her in at night.:
“Not now, Zabimaru. Just…” Renji’s eyes settled again on the sleeping face, inked brows furrowed in confusion. “…not now.” His zanpakto’s voice remained silent while he carefully shut the window against the night air and leapt to a nearby roof, but the unspoken message ran clear.
Thinking could wait until tomorrow, but it would have to come eventually, especially when his arms continued feeling uncomfortably light and cold when they should have long compensated for the lack of a certain teen’s weight.