Bleach Fic: for some secrets do not rest
for some secrets do not rest
oh to have a voice; the walls do not talk, but everything else does.
bleach | nanao/shunsui | general spoilers for the soul society arc | 3,180 words, PG.
-
Hiding spots are so few and rare between barracks. Nanao's own is settled just far enough from the Eighth, but close enough to be accessible; it is in her nature to be too prepared and it is in her nature to suspect that her Captain hasn't exactly found this place just yet - but mostly on purpose.
How she comes upon the youngest Kuchiki sibling is an entirely different matter all together. Between the frightening excitement of the last couple of days and their own adjustments to the situation, she and the younger woman have seemingly decided to share the same hiding spot nonetheless.
Today she watches Kuchiki watch her friends. They will return home soon, she thinks. But the younger woman's eyes are for the boy - Ichigo, Nanao remembers - and there is that same softness that she reserves for so few people. But an argument has erupted and with a sigh, Kuchiki's head shakes.
"It gets worse."
Kuchiki's cheeks burn. "Lieutenant Ise," she murmurs.
"Naturally," the woman continues, "you think that they'd all reach some level of maturity that spares you the headaches. But even - " she stops when Kyouraku appears, side by side with an amused Ukitake. Nanao's mouth purses. Then she nods to both captains, "Even the quiet ones are terrible."
"Friendly advice?"
Nanao's mouth twitches. "Nothing but."
There is much to be done, of course. Her mind works lazily over budgets and things, the appropriate funds and drills - all pieces to how smoothly their decision runs, outside of their eccentric captain.
Nanao keeps her desk with silence and space. There is an empty tea cup that rests on the edge, along with spare parchment. She is hoping to get out of here and to bed as soon as she can.
"You're avoiding me."
Her mouth barely moves. There is a sigh at the door.
"No." She flips a page. "I am merely expecting you -" she glances up, catching the sudden spill of light at the window. She hides her amusement well. "- you're right on time, Captain."
He pouts.
"Nanao-chan," he says. He waves a hand around. "This is unacceptable. I was supposed to be expertly avoiding training duties."
"While you and Captain Ukitake continue to be yourselves - yes, I know."
His mouth twitches. "Maa," he says. "Nothing past my Nanao-chan."
There is a lazy apology in there. She looks up and he tips his hat up, back over his eyes before taking it off. He tosses it to a chair that sits by the door.
He moves quietly to her desk. She watches him; she takes care to keep to the movements that she can see. His arms rest against his chest.
"You're worried."
Her shoulders rise. "I always worry."
"Not within reason," he says thoughtfully. Then he shifts and leans against the desk next to her, studying the window. "You were speaking with the younger Kuchiki. Well -" his mouth curls and her eyes roll, " - the prettier one, if anything."
"Compelling argument," she says dryly.
"You know I'm right."
"I also know you're lazy." She leans back in her chair, her hands dropping into her lap. Her fingers thread into each other.
Lines are much finer now. The relationship between a captain and a lieutenant is a complex one, built on years of trust and instinct. It is an uneasy feeling that does not sit well with her at all. There are her own memories too, of course, but those are pieces of herself that she hasn't touched in a very long time.
Kyouraku's leg brushes against hers. She looks up.
"He was a fool."
"Is," she corrects. "He is a fool."
"Snakes are snakes," he agrees. The Captain draws a hand against his hair, sliding his fingers against the back of his neck. "Is Kuchiki-san well? Is that why you're worried?"
"No, sir."
She sees him eyeing one of her drawers. There are a few bottles inside, most empty. She'll never tell him.
The sake bottles are scattered throughout the division; there are six in this room, six which she moves into a new place, on rotations, day to day or really, depending on how cruel she feels like being. She thinks it amuses him. At any rate, she has been doing this for years.
Reaching back though, Nanao's fingers thread through the small clasp at her neck, keeping her hair pinned back. There's a soft snap and she picks it out of her hair, letting it fall against her shoulders.
"She's strong," she says quietly.
"Ah." His eyes seem to darken. Her hair swings lazily against her jaw. "My Nanao-chan likes her," he says. He taps his chin. "Nanao-chan likes so few people too."
"So you say."
Kyouraku chuckles.
He watches her though. She keeps her hand steady as her fingers work through the strands of her hair, threading through the ends. They curl against her jaw too and when she looks up at him again, her bangs fall straight into her eyes.
Kyouraku leans forward. She doesn't move. He doesn't touch her either.
"You still haven't told me why you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding," she mutters.
"Of course, of course." He backtracks and she rolls her eyes. "But you're still hiding, Nanao-chan, and I intend to find out just exactly why."
She hums softly, shrugging.
There is a couch that rests against the wall too. One of her books sits at the end; he picks it up, carefully examining the pages at hand. They click and snap underneath his fingers and she studies his hands too.
"Nothing will happen to you."
"You can't say that," she murmurs.
He leans back, dipping into the couch. The book settles against his chest. She watches his legs stretch out and his fingers tip the brim over his hat into his eyes.
"I can say what I want."
She snorts. "You usually do, sir." She pushes herself away from the desk, standing. She moves to the couch too and hovers over him. She catches his mouth as it twitches, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You shouldn't worry about me," she tells him. "You have more trying things to do."
His fingers flick at the brim at his hat, pushing it up.
"She's like you," he says. "You think that she's a young Nanao-chan."
"Sir," she warns.
"I can see that," he continues. "Understandably so - but then, of course, there is the factor of young love. Do you think I should give Kuchiki-san's suitor a warning? Perhaps it would be the responsible thing to do, seeing as the elder Kuchiki is a dull as a piece of wood."
Her mouth curls. "Sir," she admonishes.
His eyes glitter with amusement. She likes him like this, she thinks. Not best, not anything, but just like this. There is a lack of pressure and they both hide behind and between words, words with much heavier meanings.
But she thinks back to Rukia, the younger Kuchiki, and how much like she really is. It's a struggle, keeping the sharpness of your own feelings outside of the kind of duties they have. Not all boys are just boys.
It's only brief: when her hair slide into her eyes, he pushes the strands away.
She meets Kuchiki back at their spot, tea accompanying her as it tends to do these days. Her hands move easily as she prepares it.
"The Captain tried to give me love advice."
Nanao's hands freeze over the tea. Her mouth curls and she shakes her head.
"I am sorry, Kuchiki-san," she says dryly. "He tends to do that. As well as fixate on sweeping in and saving the day."
"Rukia," the woman corrects.
"Rukia then," Nanao murmurs. She shakes her head. "And I apologize for him."
The younger woman's cheeks flush. Her hands curl around her cup, after Nanao finishes pouring. They have picked a much quieter corner between the barracks and the housing; Nanao suspects that she is staying close to the four because of her brother and her friends.
"He said to make sure you knew too."
Nanao lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Her hands smooth against her knee and she turns her gaze to the path in front of her, watching the blossoms and the trees as the spring shapes together.
"What's it like?" she asks.
"Hmm?"
"The human world," she repeats. "I -" she laughs again, meeting the other woman's gaze. "My memories, or what I have of them - they are much too bleak."
"Everything is much too loud and bright," Kuchiki murmurs. "You don't notice it at first. "It's overwhelming too, I think. You wonder how people don't get lost all the time. But then you see the sadness of it -"
"You were a child?" Nanao interrupts.
"A baby," the woman says.
"Ah." Her skin starts to warm, that slight, lazy tingle that comes and goes when her captain is near. She watches Kuchiki straighten and then her mouth turn. "He'll join us soon," Nanao says softly.
"Suspense, right?"
Nanao actually laughs. The warm sound slips, startling the two women. Kuchiki's cheeks flush and Nanao brings the tea to her mouth.
"More like an entrance," she murmurs. "You'll see."
True to form, Kyouraku does not disappoint. He sweeps in, from the side, and the elements seem to follow him in kind; there are the blossoms, of course, and the sharp, heavy twist of the wind catching at the fringes of his hat and his uniform.
Nanao chooses to keep to her tea. The flush on Kuchiki's cheeks has not left either.
"Ladies," he drawls.
"Sir," Kuchiki greets. Nanao tilts her head up too. "Captain," she greets too.
"Your brother is a terrible bore," Kyouraku says to Kuchiki. The woman's mouth curls and she ducks, staring at her tea and her hands. Nanao watches with amusement, saying nothing at all. "I went to visit him," he continues. "He likes to stare aimlessly at windows."
"I'm sorry, I think?" from the younger woman causes her captain to laugh and Nanao to roll her eyes. He's pressing, she thinks.
She's calm though. She settles between them, eyeing Kyouraku suspiciously. She always does; he is seemingly unpredictable these days and when it has to do with the smaller things, his amusements are, at best, their own force to reckon with.
But Kuchiki is the one that seems to finally relax, her hands twisting lazily into her lap. She's put the tea down.
"Perhaps," Nanao says smoothly. "Perhaps we could save our conversation for another time? A walk tomorrow?"
She looks up. "I'd like that." The two women smile at each other and then Kuichiki stands, abandoning her tea. Nanao can feel the captain watching them. "I must get back to my brother as well."
"Ugh," Kyouraku grumbles. "You could stay. Nanao-chan makes excellent tea."
"Leave her be," Nanao murmurs.
It's then that pleasantries are exchanged; Kuchiki bows her head respectfully and then turns, walking back towards the Fourth, where her brother is recovering from the rest of his injuries.
Nanao pours a third cup of tea then, pressing it towards her captain, knowing full well that he won't touch it. Occasionally, should there be an overwhelming need, he will. But his preferences have always been with things that taste stronger and sharper. He claims it's a sensible thing. She does not tell him what she thinks.
"She's charming."
"Stop."
He settles back into the grass, stretching over his arms. She watches the hat tip over his eyes and shakes her head.
"You're never this concerned," she says, "when I talk to people." She studies the view in front of her again, tilting her head to the side. "One," she mentions off-handedly, " - would think that you have too much of my attention anyway."
"You're so cruel sometimes, Nanao-chan."
Her lips curl.
She did not know him young, not like Kuchiki and the boy, not like the other odd, lingering memories she keeps in the back of her mind. He's always been such a resolute force in her mind, here and there and as a girl, just before she was expedited through her academy experience.
She puts her tea down. She shifts back too, closer to him but closer to the tree. Her back presses against the wood and she sighs softly.
"But he's not like me." There is a shift in his voice, something low and warm. "A bit hot-tempered -"
"You finish that sentence, sir," she says lazily. "And we'll have a real discussion and reminder of what you're really like."
"And how you're finally coming to terms with your feelings for me, I hope."
"If only."
He tips his hat back, meeting her gaze. He's solemn, if only for a moment. The corners of his mouth turn and then he sighs, loud and almost unaffected. If this were any other moment, she thinks. But her body betrays her and she is turning towards him, letting her tea rest to the side.
She reaches forward, smoothing her fingers against the silk of his sleeve. Her fingers catch his palm and then he's turning his hand into her touch.
"I'm worried."
He laughs. The sound is low and thick. "I know." His thumb catches her knuckles. "You are terrible at hiding things from me, Nanao-chan."
"I choose not to talk about it," she corrects.
He shrugs. "Same thing."
"Be careful," she says instead. "You could ruin that reputation of yours, sir."
"Ha." His voice softens. "Worrying won't do any good, you know."
"Someone has to do it," she shoots back.
"And you do it so prettily, Nanao-chan."
Ass, she thinks. But he catches her hand, turning her palm into his mouth. She flushes when his lips press into her skin, his teeth sliding lightly along the tips of her fingers. He's eyeing her carefully; his mouth twists and she shakes her head.
"You're awful," she says softly.
He chuckles. "We're still young, Nanao-chan. That is nothing to worry about."
"That's not what I worry about," she mutters.
She thinks of how blindly she followed him, before and after the subsequent execution of Kuchiki. This isn't the part that worries her; it's his own need for merit and danger, dragging himself into these situations because he can and he's impossibly curious.
But she has no regrets either. This is the catch, it seems, and at best, she knows that she would never think twice when it comes to him.
Nanao meets his gaze. "You don't worry enough about yourself, sir," she says gently. "Therein lies the entire problem, if anything."
"You worry enough for the both of us, of course."
His mouth pulls away from her hand. He tugs her forward and she slips closer on her knees, trying to balance herself back with some of her weight to her legs. The clip at the nape of her neck is loose enough and her hair sort of unravels like that, a few, stray strands coming to drop over her cheek. His eyes darken.
"I want a kiss, Nanao-chan," he says softly.
"Oh?"
"Yes." When he tugs again, she is leaning into his side, her arm brushing against his chest. "A kiss," he says. "A proper kiss, seeing as we're about to go off into the unknown. You don't want me going off without any sense of the enormity of your feelings, ne Nanao-chan?"
"You're so lucky," she starts, speaking in the same, lazy hushed tone that he does. She's learned, of course, how to pick and choose her battles with him. She is never far from keeping her leveled respect; beyond that though, she still manages to keep herself aligned to some kind assertion of her place and self.
"So lucky?"
"Yes," she says. "Lucky that you are you and I am - well, there is no need to press, really. You always do what you wish."
He grins. "And I wish, I humbly request a kiss from my Nanao-chan."
There are plenty of secrets. They are all dangerous in this world; Nanao thinks she keeps a few too many to her heart as it is. She thinks of Kuchiki though, and the boy, and the weight of gazes and trust. She licks her lips first, then she breathes, pressing forward.
Her mouth grazes his.
She has kissed him before, once, maybe years and younger than she is right now. There is a well-placed memory of how exactly his fingers in her hair should feel. When he kisses her now, his mouth is warm and she is opening hers to a sigh, keeping herself in that tight, uncomfortable position.
But it is romantic as it always is, the way the grass suddenly slides onto her knees and palms, the way he pulls her into his side and she fits in just that way. She cannot put a length and a time to any of this. But it's never mattered and they keep to themselves.
"You're a terrible man," she murmurs against his mouth, and she feels him smile.
"The very best though," he says.
Nanao is quiet. She doesn't have to tell him that she agrees.
Watching them is like watching something they shouldn't; for what she knows, Kuchiki is just as intensely private as is her older brother. She and the boy stand off to the side, speaking in low, hushed tones as the rest of them wait patiently through a quiet goodbye. Kyouraku comes to stand next to her and she looks up at him, tilting her head as he inclines his silence with a slight nod and a smile.
"Stop it," she says softly.
Next to her, Ukitake grins. Kyouraku has the gall to feign a blush; her hand has already crept out, catching his wrist. Her fingers graze his skin again.
"I think you've mortified the poor girl enough, sir."
Kyouraku shrugs. "It's not her fault that her brother is a bore."
"Do I even want to know?" Ukitake asks, and Nanao has to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The whole thing, really, remains to be just as absurd as it was when it began. But she keeps her gaze to the younger woman and her former companions.
"My Nanao-chan is a romantic," Kyouraku says to his friend. "She is merely asking me to preserve the moment. I promised to keep my comments to myself."
"When has that ever stopped you," Ukitake mutters. Nanao snorts.
They argue quietly, a few, misplaced comments from Kyouraku to Ukitake about grander delusions or something of that extent. She still watches the woman and then the small group that disappears, behind the doors and how they shut. Kuchiki's gaze drops and her brother comes to stand at her side. He seems to murmur something - what, she couldn't possibly know. Nanao, while enjoying the silence, prefers the loud, unraveling complexity of what and how her captain stands.
There will be a time though. She knows just how the girl feels.
oh to have a voice; the walls do not talk, but everything else does.
bleach | nanao/shunsui | general spoilers for the soul society arc | 3,180 words, PG.
-
Hiding spots are so few and rare between barracks. Nanao's own is settled just far enough from the Eighth, but close enough to be accessible; it is in her nature to be too prepared and it is in her nature to suspect that her Captain hasn't exactly found this place just yet - but mostly on purpose.
How she comes upon the youngest Kuchiki sibling is an entirely different matter all together. Between the frightening excitement of the last couple of days and their own adjustments to the situation, she and the younger woman have seemingly decided to share the same hiding spot nonetheless.
Today she watches Kuchiki watch her friends. They will return home soon, she thinks. But the younger woman's eyes are for the boy - Ichigo, Nanao remembers - and there is that same softness that she reserves for so few people. But an argument has erupted and with a sigh, Kuchiki's head shakes.
"It gets worse."
Kuchiki's cheeks burn. "Lieutenant Ise," she murmurs.
"Naturally," the woman continues, "you think that they'd all reach some level of maturity that spares you the headaches. But even - " she stops when Kyouraku appears, side by side with an amused Ukitake. Nanao's mouth purses. Then she nods to both captains, "Even the quiet ones are terrible."
"Friendly advice?"
Nanao's mouth twitches. "Nothing but."
There is much to be done, of course. Her mind works lazily over budgets and things, the appropriate funds and drills - all pieces to how smoothly their decision runs, outside of their eccentric captain.
Nanao keeps her desk with silence and space. There is an empty tea cup that rests on the edge, along with spare parchment. She is hoping to get out of here and to bed as soon as she can.
"You're avoiding me."
Her mouth barely moves. There is a sigh at the door.
"No." She flips a page. "I am merely expecting you -" she glances up, catching the sudden spill of light at the window. She hides her amusement well. "- you're right on time, Captain."
He pouts.
"Nanao-chan," he says. He waves a hand around. "This is unacceptable. I was supposed to be expertly avoiding training duties."
"While you and Captain Ukitake continue to be yourselves - yes, I know."
His mouth twitches. "Maa," he says. "Nothing past my Nanao-chan."
There is a lazy apology in there. She looks up and he tips his hat up, back over his eyes before taking it off. He tosses it to a chair that sits by the door.
He moves quietly to her desk. She watches him; she takes care to keep to the movements that she can see. His arms rest against his chest.
"You're worried."
Her shoulders rise. "I always worry."
"Not within reason," he says thoughtfully. Then he shifts and leans against the desk next to her, studying the window. "You were speaking with the younger Kuchiki. Well -" his mouth curls and her eyes roll, " - the prettier one, if anything."
"Compelling argument," she says dryly.
"You know I'm right."
"I also know you're lazy." She leans back in her chair, her hands dropping into her lap. Her fingers thread into each other.
Lines are much finer now. The relationship between a captain and a lieutenant is a complex one, built on years of trust and instinct. It is an uneasy feeling that does not sit well with her at all. There are her own memories too, of course, but those are pieces of herself that she hasn't touched in a very long time.
Kyouraku's leg brushes against hers. She looks up.
"He was a fool."
"Is," she corrects. "He is a fool."
"Snakes are snakes," he agrees. The Captain draws a hand against his hair, sliding his fingers against the back of his neck. "Is Kuchiki-san well? Is that why you're worried?"
"No, sir."
She sees him eyeing one of her drawers. There are a few bottles inside, most empty. She'll never tell him.
The sake bottles are scattered throughout the division; there are six in this room, six which she moves into a new place, on rotations, day to day or really, depending on how cruel she feels like being. She thinks it amuses him. At any rate, she has been doing this for years.
Reaching back though, Nanao's fingers thread through the small clasp at her neck, keeping her hair pinned back. There's a soft snap and she picks it out of her hair, letting it fall against her shoulders.
"She's strong," she says quietly.
"Ah." His eyes seem to darken. Her hair swings lazily against her jaw. "My Nanao-chan likes her," he says. He taps his chin. "Nanao-chan likes so few people too."
"So you say."
Kyouraku chuckles.
He watches her though. She keeps her hand steady as her fingers work through the strands of her hair, threading through the ends. They curl against her jaw too and when she looks up at him again, her bangs fall straight into her eyes.
Kyouraku leans forward. She doesn't move. He doesn't touch her either.
"You still haven't told me why you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding," she mutters.
"Of course, of course." He backtracks and she rolls her eyes. "But you're still hiding, Nanao-chan, and I intend to find out just exactly why."
She hums softly, shrugging.
There is a couch that rests against the wall too. One of her books sits at the end; he picks it up, carefully examining the pages at hand. They click and snap underneath his fingers and she studies his hands too.
"Nothing will happen to you."
"You can't say that," she murmurs.
He leans back, dipping into the couch. The book settles against his chest. She watches his legs stretch out and his fingers tip the brim over his hat into his eyes.
"I can say what I want."
She snorts. "You usually do, sir." She pushes herself away from the desk, standing. She moves to the couch too and hovers over him. She catches his mouth as it twitches, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You shouldn't worry about me," she tells him. "You have more trying things to do."
His fingers flick at the brim at his hat, pushing it up.
"She's like you," he says. "You think that she's a young Nanao-chan."
"Sir," she warns.
"I can see that," he continues. "Understandably so - but then, of course, there is the factor of young love. Do you think I should give Kuchiki-san's suitor a warning? Perhaps it would be the responsible thing to do, seeing as the elder Kuchiki is a dull as a piece of wood."
Her mouth curls. "Sir," she admonishes.
His eyes glitter with amusement. She likes him like this, she thinks. Not best, not anything, but just like this. There is a lack of pressure and they both hide behind and between words, words with much heavier meanings.
But she thinks back to Rukia, the younger Kuchiki, and how much like she really is. It's a struggle, keeping the sharpness of your own feelings outside of the kind of duties they have. Not all boys are just boys.
It's only brief: when her hair slide into her eyes, he pushes the strands away.
She meets Kuchiki back at their spot, tea accompanying her as it tends to do these days. Her hands move easily as she prepares it.
"The Captain tried to give me love advice."
Nanao's hands freeze over the tea. Her mouth curls and she shakes her head.
"I am sorry, Kuchiki-san," she says dryly. "He tends to do that. As well as fixate on sweeping in and saving the day."
"Rukia," the woman corrects.
"Rukia then," Nanao murmurs. She shakes her head. "And I apologize for him."
The younger woman's cheeks flush. Her hands curl around her cup, after Nanao finishes pouring. They have picked a much quieter corner between the barracks and the housing; Nanao suspects that she is staying close to the four because of her brother and her friends.
"He said to make sure you knew too."
Nanao lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Her hands smooth against her knee and she turns her gaze to the path in front of her, watching the blossoms and the trees as the spring shapes together.
"What's it like?" she asks.
"Hmm?"
"The human world," she repeats. "I -" she laughs again, meeting the other woman's gaze. "My memories, or what I have of them - they are much too bleak."
"Everything is much too loud and bright," Kuchiki murmurs. "You don't notice it at first. "It's overwhelming too, I think. You wonder how people don't get lost all the time. But then you see the sadness of it -"
"You were a child?" Nanao interrupts.
"A baby," the woman says.
"Ah." Her skin starts to warm, that slight, lazy tingle that comes and goes when her captain is near. She watches Kuchiki straighten and then her mouth turn. "He'll join us soon," Nanao says softly.
"Suspense, right?"
Nanao actually laughs. The warm sound slips, startling the two women. Kuchiki's cheeks flush and Nanao brings the tea to her mouth.
"More like an entrance," she murmurs. "You'll see."
True to form, Kyouraku does not disappoint. He sweeps in, from the side, and the elements seem to follow him in kind; there are the blossoms, of course, and the sharp, heavy twist of the wind catching at the fringes of his hat and his uniform.
Nanao chooses to keep to her tea. The flush on Kuchiki's cheeks has not left either.
"Ladies," he drawls.
"Sir," Kuchiki greets. Nanao tilts her head up too. "Captain," she greets too.
"Your brother is a terrible bore," Kyouraku says to Kuchiki. The woman's mouth curls and she ducks, staring at her tea and her hands. Nanao watches with amusement, saying nothing at all. "I went to visit him," he continues. "He likes to stare aimlessly at windows."
"I'm sorry, I think?" from the younger woman causes her captain to laugh and Nanao to roll her eyes. He's pressing, she thinks.
She's calm though. She settles between them, eyeing Kyouraku suspiciously. She always does; he is seemingly unpredictable these days and when it has to do with the smaller things, his amusements are, at best, their own force to reckon with.
But Kuchiki is the one that seems to finally relax, her hands twisting lazily into her lap. She's put the tea down.
"Perhaps," Nanao says smoothly. "Perhaps we could save our conversation for another time? A walk tomorrow?"
She looks up. "I'd like that." The two women smile at each other and then Kuichiki stands, abandoning her tea. Nanao can feel the captain watching them. "I must get back to my brother as well."
"Ugh," Kyouraku grumbles. "You could stay. Nanao-chan makes excellent tea."
"Leave her be," Nanao murmurs.
It's then that pleasantries are exchanged; Kuchiki bows her head respectfully and then turns, walking back towards the Fourth, where her brother is recovering from the rest of his injuries.
Nanao pours a third cup of tea then, pressing it towards her captain, knowing full well that he won't touch it. Occasionally, should there be an overwhelming need, he will. But his preferences have always been with things that taste stronger and sharper. He claims it's a sensible thing. She does not tell him what she thinks.
"She's charming."
"Stop."
He settles back into the grass, stretching over his arms. She watches the hat tip over his eyes and shakes her head.
"You're never this concerned," she says, "when I talk to people." She studies the view in front of her again, tilting her head to the side. "One," she mentions off-handedly, " - would think that you have too much of my attention anyway."
"You're so cruel sometimes, Nanao-chan."
Her lips curl.
She did not know him young, not like Kuchiki and the boy, not like the other odd, lingering memories she keeps in the back of her mind. He's always been such a resolute force in her mind, here and there and as a girl, just before she was expedited through her academy experience.
She puts her tea down. She shifts back too, closer to him but closer to the tree. Her back presses against the wood and she sighs softly.
"But he's not like me." There is a shift in his voice, something low and warm. "A bit hot-tempered -"
"You finish that sentence, sir," she says lazily. "And we'll have a real discussion and reminder of what you're really like."
"And how you're finally coming to terms with your feelings for me, I hope."
"If only."
He tips his hat back, meeting her gaze. He's solemn, if only for a moment. The corners of his mouth turn and then he sighs, loud and almost unaffected. If this were any other moment, she thinks. But her body betrays her and she is turning towards him, letting her tea rest to the side.
She reaches forward, smoothing her fingers against the silk of his sleeve. Her fingers catch his palm and then he's turning his hand into her touch.
"I'm worried."
He laughs. The sound is low and thick. "I know." His thumb catches her knuckles. "You are terrible at hiding things from me, Nanao-chan."
"I choose not to talk about it," she corrects.
He shrugs. "Same thing."
"Be careful," she says instead. "You could ruin that reputation of yours, sir."
"Ha." His voice softens. "Worrying won't do any good, you know."
"Someone has to do it," she shoots back.
"And you do it so prettily, Nanao-chan."
Ass, she thinks. But he catches her hand, turning her palm into his mouth. She flushes when his lips press into her skin, his teeth sliding lightly along the tips of her fingers. He's eyeing her carefully; his mouth twists and she shakes her head.
"You're awful," she says softly.
He chuckles. "We're still young, Nanao-chan. That is nothing to worry about."
"That's not what I worry about," she mutters.
She thinks of how blindly she followed him, before and after the subsequent execution of Kuchiki. This isn't the part that worries her; it's his own need for merit and danger, dragging himself into these situations because he can and he's impossibly curious.
But she has no regrets either. This is the catch, it seems, and at best, she knows that she would never think twice when it comes to him.
Nanao meets his gaze. "You don't worry enough about yourself, sir," she says gently. "Therein lies the entire problem, if anything."
"You worry enough for the both of us, of course."
His mouth pulls away from her hand. He tugs her forward and she slips closer on her knees, trying to balance herself back with some of her weight to her legs. The clip at the nape of her neck is loose enough and her hair sort of unravels like that, a few, stray strands coming to drop over her cheek. His eyes darken.
"I want a kiss, Nanao-chan," he says softly.
"Oh?"
"Yes." When he tugs again, she is leaning into his side, her arm brushing against his chest. "A kiss," he says. "A proper kiss, seeing as we're about to go off into the unknown. You don't want me going off without any sense of the enormity of your feelings, ne Nanao-chan?"
"You're so lucky," she starts, speaking in the same, lazy hushed tone that he does. She's learned, of course, how to pick and choose her battles with him. She is never far from keeping her leveled respect; beyond that though, she still manages to keep herself aligned to some kind assertion of her place and self.
"So lucky?"
"Yes," she says. "Lucky that you are you and I am - well, there is no need to press, really. You always do what you wish."
He grins. "And I wish, I humbly request a kiss from my Nanao-chan."
There are plenty of secrets. They are all dangerous in this world; Nanao thinks she keeps a few too many to her heart as it is. She thinks of Kuchiki though, and the boy, and the weight of gazes and trust. She licks her lips first, then she breathes, pressing forward.
Her mouth grazes his.
She has kissed him before, once, maybe years and younger than she is right now. There is a well-placed memory of how exactly his fingers in her hair should feel. When he kisses her now, his mouth is warm and she is opening hers to a sigh, keeping herself in that tight, uncomfortable position.
But it is romantic as it always is, the way the grass suddenly slides onto her knees and palms, the way he pulls her into his side and she fits in just that way. She cannot put a length and a time to any of this. But it's never mattered and they keep to themselves.
"You're a terrible man," she murmurs against his mouth, and she feels him smile.
"The very best though," he says.
Nanao is quiet. She doesn't have to tell him that she agrees.
Watching them is like watching something they shouldn't; for what she knows, Kuchiki is just as intensely private as is her older brother. She and the boy stand off to the side, speaking in low, hushed tones as the rest of them wait patiently through a quiet goodbye. Kyouraku comes to stand next to her and she looks up at him, tilting her head as he inclines his silence with a slight nod and a smile.
"Stop it," she says softly.
Next to her, Ukitake grins. Kyouraku has the gall to feign a blush; her hand has already crept out, catching his wrist. Her fingers graze his skin again.
"I think you've mortified the poor girl enough, sir."
Kyouraku shrugs. "It's not her fault that her brother is a bore."
"Do I even want to know?" Ukitake asks, and Nanao has to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The whole thing, really, remains to be just as absurd as it was when it began. But she keeps her gaze to the younger woman and her former companions.
"My Nanao-chan is a romantic," Kyouraku says to his friend. "She is merely asking me to preserve the moment. I promised to keep my comments to myself."
"When has that ever stopped you," Ukitake mutters. Nanao snorts.
They argue quietly, a few, misplaced comments from Kyouraku to Ukitake about grander delusions or something of that extent. She still watches the woman and then the small group that disappears, behind the doors and how they shut. Kuchiki's gaze drops and her brother comes to stand at her side. He seems to murmur something - what, she couldn't possibly know. Nanao, while enjoying the silence, prefers the loud, unraveling complexity of what and how her captain stands.
There will be a time though. She knows just how the girl feels.