[fic] "Everything Changes"
Well, since Admin kiyala wanted me to be a moderator on this community, and since she's practically begging people for IsshiKen submissions, and since I wanted to do a perspective on this pairing that I don't think has really been explored yet...
This is meant as a kind of dystopian alternate-reality companion to her (much warmer and less cynical!) “Nothing's Changed”.
Title: Everything Changes
Author: Thenakedcat
Word count:
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin/Ishida Ryuuken; mention of prior Isshin/Masaki, Ryuuken/Lady Ishida.
Rating: R, I suppose. The sex is rather “artistic”--as in, soft-focus.
Warnings: Mentions of character death. Sex of a very jaded and cynical nature. Angst like nobody's business. Spoilers if you aren't up to date on Isshin and Ryuuken, but if you aren't, why are you here to begin with?
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, and only he knows what went on in that secret room once the kids were gone.
Notes: Kii-chan, this one's dedicated to you. I also have to send big fat thanks out to my beta, lotus_seed, who read this in tiny installments, and kickstarted my brain several times during the process.
Crossposted to quincy_papa and bleach_yaoi.
He will admit to no reservations about it, save only that she had not had a full year's mourning period before it happened.
But Isshin was getting moody and snappish, clear even to those who saw him only occasionally, and the anniversary of her death was fast approaching. His children-HER children-would need their father to be wholly there for them on that day. Sadder and truer than any other fact, the needs of the living outweighed the honor of the dead.
So Ryuuken told his secretary that he'd changed his mind about that conference in Kyoto, and could she call Kurosaki-sensei while she was at it, because as long as they were both going, might as well only use one car. And since the hotels were all sure to be overbooked with attendees, perhaps she should see about getting them a room together. After all, he'd put up with the idiot for two whole years of college. One night wouldn't be so bad.
He ignored the look she gave him as he walked away. Let her think what she wanted; it wasn't what it looked like. Even if it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...but if you already thought the paper was tripe, why did you even bother to come? Just to point that out in front of an audience?" Isshin plopped onto the left bed, and propped his feet up on the right, one hand unconsciously twisting his chunky gold wedding band around and around and around.
Ryuuken did not glance back at him as he headed into bathroom, and left the door open just enough to be heard over the running water in the sink. "Because it was an excuse to spend a night in the company of adults, for a change. Uryuu may be smart for his age, but his conversational repertoire is still rather limited."
"BLASPHEMY! A father should never say that the darling fruit of his loins bores him! Every word out of their mouths is better than any stuffy old grownup talk." On any normal night, Isshin would have been able to keep the tirade up until they got a noise complaint from the front desk. On this night, he quickly fell into a twitchy sulk as the water cut off in the bathroom and was replaced by the rustling of fabric, then a soft clink of metal on marble.
"Pity you feel that way, as I was about to suggest a bit of 'grownup talk'." Isshin caught a single moment's glimpse of 'Ken naked as a lily of the field. Then slim fingers flicked the light switch and plunged the room into darkness.
A few moments of silence. Then, "What. The. FUCK?????"
Weight settled onto the edge of the bed, not close enough to brush up against him, but near enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from Ryuuken's bare skin. "You don't understand, Isshin, what it is to be burning without any hope of relief. Not quite. Not yet. Nor do I really want you to understand."
Somewhere inside Isshin one barrier out of many collapsed at that. Ten years now that he's been alone...and here I am falling apart before the first has even passed. But the "solution" 'Ken was proposing was just cynical and disloyal. "And here I thought all that Quincy talk about 'one man for one woman for one lifetime' actually meant something! You can just turn your back on all that so easily?" He blessed the darkness that hid the look on his face, which was far less certain and strident than his words. I know you loved her, 'Ken. Don't ever prove me wrong about that.
Suddenly the warmth was almost palpable, and there was a voice right next to his ear with breath hot against his cheek. "Even the Quincies look the other way when the soldiers in the trenches huddle together."
Soldiers in the trenches--yes, that was what they were, the two of them. No wives beside them to make them forget the storm outside, no hope to throw dampening caution on them, no expectations but a little warmth and physical release to make the unbearable endurable. It was such a tempting offer, but he still rebelled against the seeming ease with which he was falling. He prepared to harden his heart even against 'Ken's seductive loneliness, to push his old friend away and talk him out of this like any rational human being...but when his hands connected with that bare skin, that human warmth, he was lost. They no longer wanted to obey him, they wanted to take up residence on a body not his own.
Ryuuken took full advantage of Isshin's immobility, finally pressing forward to close that last bit of space between them. When their lips met in a kiss that prevented any unseemly moans, it closed an uncertainty, a possibility of going to sleep in separate beds and nothing happening. They were going somewhere together tonight. 'Ken was far stronger than his slight frame suggested, and that strength could shatter bones if he willed it. But now it was focused solely on separating Isshin from his clothes, gently but firmly, in way that said, Don't you dare turn your back on what you want and need right now.
Isshin no longer had any intention of doing so. If he had not already been going insane from loneliness, the closeness of that warm, familiar body would have driven him there on its own. As 'Ken stripped his clothes away, his traitor hands slipped over the angles of shoulderblades, the line of vertebrae, the jut of hipbones under silky skin. Perhaps it was a trick of the darkness, but it was as if there were two people in the room with him, one who had his friend's voice, and one who was on this bed with him, speaking only in the language of adultery. This wasn't "fucking", and it wasn't "having sex", and it wasn't "making love"...and maybe, just maybe, if it wasn't any of the above, Masaki could forgive her stupid, weak husband for giving in so easily. He knew it wasn't her, it wasn't a bit like her, this steely, narrow body pressed against his.
Having to be the practical one meant Ryuuken couldn't sit and parse the morality of what they were doing--though nothing running through Isshin's head hadn't occured to him at least once in planning this tryst. But his brain still had enough time on its hands to inform him that Isshin's calloused hands were making his skin tingle and flush like he was still nineteen and innocent.
And then suddenly Isshin was as naked as he was, and he couldn't hide behind being practical anymore. He really was nineteen again, fumbling in the darkness for the first time, hesitating about what should come next. For a moment in time he was frozen crouching over Isshin. That moment of stillness was enough for Isshin to realize that he didn't want Ken to leave in the morning having only given and not received. It was mutual sin either way, so why should he not be brazen and take the lead?
Strong arms reached up to snake around Ryuuken's waist, and around his shoulders to tangle in his hair. Before he could recover enough to respond, they had drawn him in and rolled him under. And suddenly he was not the one in control-yet those roughened healing hands felt even better they were pressing him into the mattress. Pressing his thighs apart. Pressing the two of them groin against groin.
And--OH--they drew a breath in together in mutual realization: they were both stiff with arousal, hard with the tension in the air. Well, there was only one thing to do then... Ken's back arched up off the bed, hips pulsing forward to the rhythm in their blood. There was something both desperate and imperious in him as he goaded Isshin into moving. Move Isshin did, until the sheets beneath them were damp with their mingled sweat, and Ryuuken had to pull him into a tongue-tangling kiss to keep him quiet, and he had to lace their fingers together to keep 'Ken's nails from leaving seeping scratches down his back.
This wasn't “fucking”, or “having sex”, or “making love”...it was silent screaming. It was sobbing without tears. It was trying to remember what it was like to be anything besides alone and scared. It was laughing as you rode out to fight and die. It was straddling the wave with the wind in your hair until it slammed you broken and bruised into the beach, and you found yourself-panting and shaking--wound in your best friend's arms, slick with sweat and...other things.
It would have been too much trouble to figure out the etiquette of getting up to clean up and change the sheets...so without a word they twined themselves together in the middle of the mess and went to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He will admit to no regrets about it, save that, when by some miracle he woke the next morning before Ryuuken did, he stumbled into the bathroom to find the Quincy's slim gold wedding band on the marble counter. It sat in the palm of his hand as he contemplated it, until Ryuuken came in, blinking and nervous. Then he took the hand the ring belonged to, and contemplated the groove it had worn over the years, just above the second joint of the third finger.
He doesn't regret kissing the hand as he slipped it back into place.
This is meant as a kind of dystopian alternate-reality companion to her (much warmer and less cynical!) “Nothing's Changed”.
Title: Everything Changes
Author: Thenakedcat
Word count:
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin/Ishida Ryuuken; mention of prior Isshin/Masaki, Ryuuken/Lady Ishida.
Rating: R, I suppose. The sex is rather “artistic”--as in, soft-focus.
Warnings: Mentions of character death. Sex of a very jaded and cynical nature. Angst like nobody's business. Spoilers if you aren't up to date on Isshin and Ryuuken, but if you aren't, why are you here to begin with?
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, and only he knows what went on in that secret room once the kids were gone.
Notes: Kii-chan, this one's dedicated to you. I also have to send big fat thanks out to my beta, lotus_seed, who read this in tiny installments, and kickstarted my brain several times during the process.
Crossposted to quincy_papa and bleach_yaoi.
He will admit to no reservations about it, save only that she had not had a full year's mourning period before it happened.
But Isshin was getting moody and snappish, clear even to those who saw him only occasionally, and the anniversary of her death was fast approaching. His children-HER children-would need their father to be wholly there for them on that day. Sadder and truer than any other fact, the needs of the living outweighed the honor of the dead.
So Ryuuken told his secretary that he'd changed his mind about that conference in Kyoto, and could she call Kurosaki-sensei while she was at it, because as long as they were both going, might as well only use one car. And since the hotels were all sure to be overbooked with attendees, perhaps she should see about getting them a room together. After all, he'd put up with the idiot for two whole years of college. One night wouldn't be so bad.
He ignored the look she gave him as he walked away. Let her think what she wanted; it wasn't what it looked like. Even if it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...but if you already thought the paper was tripe, why did you even bother to come? Just to point that out in front of an audience?" Isshin plopped onto the left bed, and propped his feet up on the right, one hand unconsciously twisting his chunky gold wedding band around and around and around.
Ryuuken did not glance back at him as he headed into bathroom, and left the door open just enough to be heard over the running water in the sink. "Because it was an excuse to spend a night in the company of adults, for a change. Uryuu may be smart for his age, but his conversational repertoire is still rather limited."
"BLASPHEMY! A father should never say that the darling fruit of his loins bores him! Every word out of their mouths is better than any stuffy old grownup talk." On any normal night, Isshin would have been able to keep the tirade up until they got a noise complaint from the front desk. On this night, he quickly fell into a twitchy sulk as the water cut off in the bathroom and was replaced by the rustling of fabric, then a soft clink of metal on marble.
"Pity you feel that way, as I was about to suggest a bit of 'grownup talk'." Isshin caught a single moment's glimpse of 'Ken naked as a lily of the field. Then slim fingers flicked the light switch and plunged the room into darkness.
A few moments of silence. Then, "What. The. FUCK?????"
Weight settled onto the edge of the bed, not close enough to brush up against him, but near enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from Ryuuken's bare skin. "You don't understand, Isshin, what it is to be burning without any hope of relief. Not quite. Not yet. Nor do I really want you to understand."
Somewhere inside Isshin one barrier out of many collapsed at that. Ten years now that he's been alone...and here I am falling apart before the first has even passed. But the "solution" 'Ken was proposing was just cynical and disloyal. "And here I thought all that Quincy talk about 'one man for one woman for one lifetime' actually meant something! You can just turn your back on all that so easily?" He blessed the darkness that hid the look on his face, which was far less certain and strident than his words. I know you loved her, 'Ken. Don't ever prove me wrong about that.
Suddenly the warmth was almost palpable, and there was a voice right next to his ear with breath hot against his cheek. "Even the Quincies look the other way when the soldiers in the trenches huddle together."
Soldiers in the trenches--yes, that was what they were, the two of them. No wives beside them to make them forget the storm outside, no hope to throw dampening caution on them, no expectations but a little warmth and physical release to make the unbearable endurable. It was such a tempting offer, but he still rebelled against the seeming ease with which he was falling. He prepared to harden his heart even against 'Ken's seductive loneliness, to push his old friend away and talk him out of this like any rational human being...but when his hands connected with that bare skin, that human warmth, he was lost. They no longer wanted to obey him, they wanted to take up residence on a body not his own.
Ryuuken took full advantage of Isshin's immobility, finally pressing forward to close that last bit of space between them. When their lips met in a kiss that prevented any unseemly moans, it closed an uncertainty, a possibility of going to sleep in separate beds and nothing happening. They were going somewhere together tonight. 'Ken was far stronger than his slight frame suggested, and that strength could shatter bones if he willed it. But now it was focused solely on separating Isshin from his clothes, gently but firmly, in way that said, Don't you dare turn your back on what you want and need right now.
Isshin no longer had any intention of doing so. If he had not already been going insane from loneliness, the closeness of that warm, familiar body would have driven him there on its own. As 'Ken stripped his clothes away, his traitor hands slipped over the angles of shoulderblades, the line of vertebrae, the jut of hipbones under silky skin. Perhaps it was a trick of the darkness, but it was as if there were two people in the room with him, one who had his friend's voice, and one who was on this bed with him, speaking only in the language of adultery. This wasn't "fucking", and it wasn't "having sex", and it wasn't "making love"...and maybe, just maybe, if it wasn't any of the above, Masaki could forgive her stupid, weak husband for giving in so easily. He knew it wasn't her, it wasn't a bit like her, this steely, narrow body pressed against his.
Having to be the practical one meant Ryuuken couldn't sit and parse the morality of what they were doing--though nothing running through Isshin's head hadn't occured to him at least once in planning this tryst. But his brain still had enough time on its hands to inform him that Isshin's calloused hands were making his skin tingle and flush like he was still nineteen and innocent.
And then suddenly Isshin was as naked as he was, and he couldn't hide behind being practical anymore. He really was nineteen again, fumbling in the darkness for the first time, hesitating about what should come next. For a moment in time he was frozen crouching over Isshin. That moment of stillness was enough for Isshin to realize that he didn't want Ken to leave in the morning having only given and not received. It was mutual sin either way, so why should he not be brazen and take the lead?
Strong arms reached up to snake around Ryuuken's waist, and around his shoulders to tangle in his hair. Before he could recover enough to respond, they had drawn him in and rolled him under. And suddenly he was not the one in control-yet those roughened healing hands felt even better they were pressing him into the mattress. Pressing his thighs apart. Pressing the two of them groin against groin.
And--OH--they drew a breath in together in mutual realization: they were both stiff with arousal, hard with the tension in the air. Well, there was only one thing to do then... Ken's back arched up off the bed, hips pulsing forward to the rhythm in their blood. There was something both desperate and imperious in him as he goaded Isshin into moving. Move Isshin did, until the sheets beneath them were damp with their mingled sweat, and Ryuuken had to pull him into a tongue-tangling kiss to keep him quiet, and he had to lace their fingers together to keep 'Ken's nails from leaving seeping scratches down his back.
This wasn't “fucking”, or “having sex”, or “making love”...it was silent screaming. It was sobbing without tears. It was trying to remember what it was like to be anything besides alone and scared. It was laughing as you rode out to fight and die. It was straddling the wave with the wind in your hair until it slammed you broken and bruised into the beach, and you found yourself-panting and shaking--wound in your best friend's arms, slick with sweat and...other things.
It would have been too much trouble to figure out the etiquette of getting up to clean up and change the sheets...so without a word they twined themselves together in the middle of the mess and went to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He will admit to no regrets about it, save that, when by some miracle he woke the next morning before Ryuuken did, he stumbled into the bathroom to find the Quincy's slim gold wedding band on the marble counter. It sat in the palm of his hand as he contemplated it, until Ryuuken came in, blinking and nervous. Then he took the hand the ring belonged to, and contemplated the groove it had worn over the years, just above the second joint of the third finger.
He doesn't regret kissing the hand as he slipped it back into place.