Insomnia (chapter 4)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Insomnia (chapter 4)
Rating: PG-13 (overall NC-17)
Pairing: IchigoxRenji
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, spoilers
Summary: When you carry world on your shoulders, who’s left to catch you when you fall? (previous chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
Hypocrisy
The first conscious thought that Ichigo remembered having was the realization that he’d been asleep. Not a light and miserable 10 minute sleep like he was used to experiencing, but a real, refreshingly deep sleep. His whole body felt wonderfully heavy, like he was still skimming the surface of a warm dream just beyond his reach. He didn’t want to move; it had been so long since he’d woken up like this that he just wanted to lay there and enjoy it for awhile. He probably would have too, if not for his second conscious thought of the morning, which was that unless he’d somehow grown a third arm during the night, someone was currently holding him around the waist.
He tensed but remained motionless, trying to blink the fog from his brain, searching for some sort of explanation. A quick scan of the room confirmed that he wasn’t at home and the walls definitely looked like Urahara’s, but for a brief moment he couldn’t remember why he would have been there. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing away the last remnants of sleep, searching back through the last few hours. It all came crashing down at once, the fight the previous night, Renji painted with rivulets of his own blood, the endless waiting and thinking. He surmised that he’d have fallen asleep in Renji’s room at some point, which gave him a pretty good guess as to who the owner of the arm might be. He winced, praying to any gods that would listen that he would wake up in his own bed momentarily, even as he started to edge away from the heat against his back.
“Stop squirmin’.” That all too familiar voice murmured into his hair. “It’s too early for squirmin’.”
Ichigo froze, though it was more out of mortified shock than an actual compliance with the command. Renji shifted subtly against him, adjusted the hand at his waist, and seemed to fall back asleep. Ichigo held his breath, the silence ringing in his ears, trying to formulate a plan of escape that would also render Renji unable to recall the events of the past twenty-four hours. He lifted the edge of the blanket just enough to peek under, glaring at the arm holding him hostage and noting, with some measure of relief, that at least he was still wearing pants this time. Trying to remain as still as possible he slipped his arm under the covers, running his hand down his own body until his fingers brushed the other man’s skin. He froze again, listening for any changes in breathing. Gently he slipped his fingers around the wrist, trying not to squeeze too tightly, and began to slowly edge it away from his body. The arm tensed, resisting his effort, and Renji sighed against the back of his neck.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for just one more hours’ sleep?” the voice was rough and tired.
“What the fuck is wrong with your head?!” Ichigo whispered harshly, struggling against the arm that refused to let go.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Renji muttered to himself, moving away so that he could roll Ichigo onto his back.
“Let go of me! What the hell is the matter with you?” Ichigo glared up at the up him.
“Last thing I need is you thrashin’ around and messin’ up all Tessai’s work.” Renji propped his head up on his fist and stared pointedly down at him.
This sobered Ichigo a bit and he stopped fighting against the hand, though the glare remained. “Yeah, well that wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t trying to sleep with me!”
“It’s my bed,” Renji growled back at him, removing the restraining hand to brush back the lock of hair that kept falling into his face. “You’re the one who was sprawled all over it when I got here.”
Ichigo sat up, staring at him incredulously. “And this seemed like an appropriate solution to you?”
“Did at the time.” Renji glared up at him.
“How the fuck did this ever seem like an appropriate solution?!” Ichigo waved his hand vaguely between them, his voice rising.
“Well, it didn’t involve either having to carry your fuckin’ ass anywhere, or me having to sleep on the floor,” Renji shot back at him, wincing as he drew himself into a sitting position.
Ichigo flinched as the blanket fell away, revealing an extensive trail of bandages across the tattooed chest. A small patch of crimson staining the pristine white along his right side and Ichigo realized that he must have reopened something during their brief struggle.
“You could have woken me up,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor, the fight draining out of him.
“You looked like ya could use the rest.” Renji’s sounded tired again.
He hadn’t failed to notice either the sudden change of mood or the direction of the previous stare and a brief glance confirmed his suspicion. He kicked himself mentally for sitting up at all. He’d felt the wound tear open when he was holding Ichigo down, but he didn’t think it would bleed through that fast.
“I should get going, my family might be worried.” The younger man stood, eyes still averted.
“This ain’t your fault, ya know.” Renji’s voice was hard.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ichigo’s head snapped up, meeting the rigid gaze.
“This.” Renji gestured roughly to the bandages on his body. “None of this is your fault; it’s just a hazard that comes with the job.”
“I screwed up and you got hurt because of it, how’s that not my fault?” Ichigo spat sullenly, looking around for his shirt.
“I ain’t your responsibility. If anything, it’s my own damn fault for not being strong enough to keep up without releasin’ my limit.” Renji’s voice was rising with frustration.
“That’s Soul Society’s fault, not yours, and you were doing fine before I got in the way,” Ichigo shot back, pulling the shirt roughly over his head.
“The hell I was,” Renji shouted, struggling to his feet with a grimace, “We all got fucked up, even Hitsugaya-taichou.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think falling down and having to be rescued was much of a help.” Ichigo tore his eyes away from the growing stain at the other mans side, sliding the door open roughly.
“When the hell did you get this stupid?” Renji shouted at his retreating back but the younger man didn’t bother to reply.
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Ichigo sat atop a tall apartment building, fingers idly tracing Zangetsu’s hilt as he stared out over the lights of the city. He’d been hiding out here for hours. He’d return home that morning to find Rukia waiting for him, full of questions about Renji’s condition and their fight with the Arrancar from the night before. He answered her in as few words as possible, aware that to ignore her completely would result in a tirade of abuse that would eventually result in the same answers. He’d omitted the part about his own weakness leading to the worst of Renji’s injuries, not wanting to hear her reassurances or see the worry lurking in her eyes. For once she hadn’t insisted on school, shooing him into his room and telling him to get some rest. After the third time she came to check on him he just couldn’t take it anymore, he’d stuck Kon in his body and told the mod soul to pretend to sleep before escaping out the window. No doubt Rukia hadn’t been fooled for long, Kon wasn’t terribly reliable, but she’d taken the hint and not come after him.
The sun had set hours ago but he couldn’t bring himself to move so he just stayed there, watching over the city, lost in thought. He knew that his family was becoming concerned, between his late night disappearances and his strange shifts in mood. He only hoped that Kon was up to acting normal tonight and could calm some of their fears.
He sighed, his thoughts shifting once again to Renji and the Arrancar. Two seconds later and Renji would have died, two seconds between a mistake that was merely painful and one that was unforgivable. His eyes slipped shut and his grip tightened around Zangetsu. If he was honest with himself, there had been no assurance that he had power left to make a difference when he stepped between Renji’s blood-soaked body and the Arrancar. He’d felt like he was watching the whole thing from behind a sheet of glass; nothing had seemed real except for his rage, his fear, and the blood. Two seconds between Renji's death, his own death, the death of that thing, and when it all came down to it he’d acted without any idea which way it would go. How could he have let himself slip so far?
He hung his head, feeling the muscles of his neck protest, as he tried to figure Renji out. He had every right to be furious right now but instead of taking out his frustrations on Ichigo he’d gone out of his way to be accommodating, even going so far as to share his bed so that they could both get some rest. Ichigo felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he thought about that morning. He certainly didn’t understand Renji’s compulsion to do some of the things he did, but there was no denying that they seemed to be done out of concern for his health. He still felt the sting of insult at having a rival looking out for him. Still, Renji had been right about him needing to sleep; he’d even been right in refusing to fight him, as infuriating as it had been.
“Figured you’d be mopin’ somewhere like this,” Renji spoke down at the top of the orange head, smirking when the younger man jumped.
“What the hell are you doing here, Renji?” Ichigo’s voice was harder than he intended, irritated at having been caught by surprise. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Got bored.” Renji ignored the tone as he dropped carefully down next to him.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Ichigo refused to look at him, glaring out across the city.
“Oh, and why’s that?” He stared a hole through the side of the younger man’s head.
“I just think it’s better if I patrol by myself from now on.” Ichigo muttered, sullen and stubborn.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Renji questioned, turning to face him completely.
Ichigo remained silent, still refusing to meet his gaze. Renji stared at him incredulously for a few minutes, his temper simmering just below the surface. “You’re a real asshole, you know that Ichigo? You think you’re better than everyone, or somethin’.”
That got the Ichigo’s attention. He rounded on the redhead. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“All this feelin’ sorry for yourself shit, like you’re not allowed to do anything wrong.” Renji’s voice was rising.
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I made a mistake that almost got you killed,” Ichigo shot back, his own temper burning to life.
“So what?” The older man snapped at him. “We’ve all made mistakes. I’ve made a bunch, including letting Aizen get to Rukia, steal the Hougyoku and start all the shit we’re in now. All you did was slip and no one even died, but now you’re sittin’ up here actin’ like it’s the end of the world.”
“It doesn’t matter if anyone died or not, I’m supposed to protect people, not be an extra burden on them,” Ichigo yelled back at him, eyes flashing dangerously.
“What the fuck, Ichigo, who asked you to save everyone?” Renji demanded, slamming a hand against the concrete in frustration. “We’re all here for the same reason, no one expects you to do it all.”
“What am I supposed to do, just keep on going like nothing happened?” Ichigo was on his feet now.
“That’s exactly what you should be doin’,” Renji raged, glaring at the agitated figure, “Ya learn from what ya did wrong and then ya move on. We’re shinigami, hollows want to kill us, that’s just part of the job. You sittin’ around bitchin’ and whinin’ about this shit ain’t helpin’ no one.”
Ichigo had stopped his angry pacing, looking out over the city once again, fists clenched so tight that he was trembling. He looked like he was going to say something but changed him mind, jaw muscles jumping as he shut his mouth so hard that Renji could hear his teeth grinding.
The older man sighed in irritation, “Look, ya ain’t sleepin’, and that’s a problem. You need to let go of some of this shit you’re carryin’ around.”
“Well thanks for clearing that up.” Ichigo’s voice was hard and bitter. “It’s not like I’ve tried something as simple as sleeping or anything.”
Renji winced a little at the tone, “All I’m sayin’ is…”
“No, you’re right,” Ichigo cut him off. “I should just go get some rest.”
He jumped over the side of the building, not bothering to wait for a reply. Renji watched him go, resisting the urge to follow him and beat some sense into that thick skull. Lying back against the cool concrete he stared up at the stars, the last of his temper fading away into nothing. He’d never been very good at being sympathetic and something about Ichigo always seemed to push him over the edge. He wondered what Rukia would have done in the same situation. She would have probably just smacked him with something until he agreed to do whatever she said. Renji couldn’t help but smirk at the picture it presented, but his amusement slowly fled as he realized that she’d probably beat the shit out of him if she could see the way he’d just handled things.
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Sweat poured off of Ichigo as he powered through another set of pushups, his muscles screaming in protest. He ignored the pain, driving forward, hoping that he could push his body to a point where it would simply collapse. He’d been doing this for two hours, alternating between sit-ups and pushups, and though his body was begging for mercy his mind just refused to let go. He had actually managed to fall asleep for an hour or so tonight, before the twisted shrieking dreams drove him from his bed. One more set of pushups and he’d give it another try.
It had been two days since his fight with Renji on the roof; two days and three hours of sleep. He hadn’t seen the other man during that time, but that wasn’t surprising seeing as he’d been avoiding him. It wasn’t that he was mad, he’d let go of the anger almost immediately, it was that he just couldn’t face letting the other man see him like this anymore.
He rolled to his feet, arms trembling slightly in the aftermath of their abuse. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat, yanking the window open to let the night air into the stuffy confines of the room before heading for the shower. He braced his forearms against the tile, letting the hot water sooth his tired muscles as he breathed in the gently curling steam. For a long time he just stayed like that, eyes shut, water streaming down his aching body, mind blissfully blank. His thoughts started to spin back to life as the water temperature dropped and he finally shut off the tap, climbing reluctantly out into the real world. He pulled on a pair of boxers and made his way back to his room, kicking the door shut behind him as he continued to towel his hair dry.
“I was startin’ to wonder if you’d drowned in there.” A voice drifted to him from the window and Ichigo yelped as he stubbed his toe against the desk.
He whirled around, ripping the towel off of his head and found Renji sitting on his windowsill as if it were the most natural thing in the world, feet dangling into the room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he muttered, dropping down to inspect the damage to his toe, heart still racing.
“Just happened to be in the area, thought I might drop in and see what you’re up to.” He slid quietly into the room.
“Okay.” Ichigo looked skeptical but let it slide, tossing the damp towel onto his desk and sinking onto the edge of the bed. “Well I’m not doing anything, so I guess I’m not going to be very entertaining.”
“That’s alright; it’s pretty boring out there tonight.” Renji pulled a chair around and dropped into it, propping one foot up on the bed next to Ichigo.
“So how have you been?” Renji’s asked politely, and Ichigo narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“Whatever you’re up to, take it somewhere else,” the younger man stated bluntly, kicking the foot off his bed so that he could lie down.
“I’m just makin’ polite conversation, dipshit,” Renji huffed, propping his foot back up next to Ichigo’s leg.
The younger man crossed his arms behind his head and raised an eyebrow. “Doing as good a job as ever, I see.”
Renji flushed slightly but bit his tongue against a retort, “Just thought that maybe you could use some company.”
“You going to yell at me some more about shit I already know?” Ichigo rolled his head back staring at the ceiling.
Renji didn’t reply and the silence stretched between them. Ichigo finally dragged his gaze back around and found the other man lost in thought. As if feeling the weight of the stare Renji blinked, shaking his head slightly as he focused on the younger man.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about what I said the other day,” he started, his tone more serious than either was accustomed to hearing. “Sometimes I forget how young you are. I remember when I was your age I thought I could save the world, too, and I wouldn’t have let anybody tell me different.”
Ichigo rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand, but remained silent.
“Difference between you and me is that I’ve actually had to learn from my failures and accept that I can’t do everything alone. You, on the other hand, always seem to find a way, usually through some sort of shit-dumb luck, to do whatever it is that you’ve got stuck in your damn head.”
Ichigo smirked, unable to find the energy to be insulted, and Renji brought up a hand to rub at his eyes. He looked tired.
“I remember being so pissed when you showed up in Seireitei. It wasn’t just ‘cause I blamed you for Rukia’s situation, it was also ‘cause you’d come to save her and that was supposed to be my job. Kept failin’ at it though, not that it stopped me from tryin’. I remember laying there in a puddle of my own blood after Kuchiki- taichou kicked my ass and still tryin’ to get up. Kuchiki- taichou put a sword through my hand and I didn’t even have the strength to pull it out but I still tried to get back up.” He frowned down at the hand, tracing the barely visible scar that still lingered. “Guess I shouldn’t be bitchin’ at you about lettin’ go of stuff when I have the same problem. Bit too hypocritical for me.”
“When’s that ever stopped you from doing anything?” Ichigo muttered without malice.
“Asshole,” Renji smirked.
Silence fell between them once again, but without the tension from before. After a few moments Renji stirred, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, dragging the tie loose and spilling a waterfall of red around his face. He ran his fingers through the locks a few times, smoothing them into place before placing the end of the tie in his mouth. He reached up with both hands to separate the mass into three parts and Ichigo watched curiously as long fingers made short work of a braid with quick, practiced motions.
“What are you doing?” he asked finally, watching the older man tie off the end securely.
“It gets all over the place if I leave it down while I sleep,” he explained, pulling his foot off the bed and rising from the chair.
“Oh.” Ichigo nodded at the explanation before something in his brain clicked and his eyes shot back to the other man. “Wait, what do you mean? You’re not sleeping here!”
Renji just to ignore him, fingers working the knot in his sash. Ichigo looked on in horror for a moment, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening to him but unable to find the words to stop it. The words finally came as the sash fell away and Renji started to peel back the layers of clothing.
“Why aren’t you listening to me? I said you can’t sleep here.” He sat up in bed, scowling menacingly, hands fisted in his blanket.
“You look like you’re still having trouble sleeping, and I know I’m still having trouble sleeping.” Renji draped his clothing over the back of the recently vacated chair.
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Ichigo snapped, eyeing him as if he were a particularly unstable mental patient.
“Last two good nights of sleep I’ve had were when you were there,” Renji explained, flipping off the light and plunging the room into an eerie half darkness.
“So what? This isn’t a reasonable solution!” Ichigo’s voice had risen an octave. The bandages were gone now and in the dim light the tattoos painting the other man’s body stood out in sharp relief, swaying slightly as he moved forward.
“Sure it is,” Renji murmured, stopping at the edge of the bed and smirking down at the younger man, “and it’s a pretty easy one at that. I seem to sleep better when you’re here, and you seem to sleep better when I’m here. It’s mutually beneficial.”
“Where the hell do you get this logic?” Ichigo looked like someone who had opened a door and come face to face with a tiger, eyes wide and knuckles white.
“You’re doin’ that girly thing again,” Renji pointed out helpfully, using one hand to push him back onto the bed.
Ichigo felt the words fail him again as he stared in disbelief at the man leaning over him. He knew he should be struggling but the shock of the whole thing seemed to have rendered him unable to move.
“Look, I even remembered to keep my pants on.” He motioned to his hakama, sounding suspiciously like he was trying to suppress a laugh.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Ichigo muttered as he felt the other man’s weight pass over him and settle on the other side of the bed.
Renji chuckled lightly, shifting around a bit to get more comfortable. Ichigo huffed in defeat, knowing that there was no way to get the other man out of the bed without a fight and too tired to attempt it. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the redhead and tried to put some distance between them. Neither said a word, Ichigo because he was far too uncomfortable and Renji because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to contain his amusement. The older man shifted again and Ichigo was about to demand he quit moving when he felt a hand settle on his hip. He stopped breathing, eyes wide with shock. Renji took the opportunity to slip the arm around his waist, drawing him backwards until the younger man was pressed against his chest.
“Oh, hell no!” Ichigo spluttered, sitting up to glare at him. “No fucking way, Renji.”
“Didn’t hear you complainin’ the last time.” His grin flashed in the darkness and Ichigo’s scowl deepened.
“You keep your hands to yourself,” Ichigo demanded, flopping back onto the mattress and crossing his arms over his chest.
Renji didn’t reply, but a tremor running through his shoulders had Ichigo very suspicious that he was being laughed at. The older man rolled over to face the wall, biting his lip hard to keep himself in check. Ichigo was just such an easy target that sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Still, he’d promised himself not to tease him too much about whatever this was and he could tell that the kid was about to snap so he left it alone. They both needed to rest and he didn’t want to risk finding his ass on the floor for the sake of his own amusement. There was always tomorrow, after all. Daylight was better for watching someone blush anyway.