Fighting Back the Writer's Block
DISCLAIMER: Bleach Is Still Not Mine.
Title: Shared Look in a Crowded Room
Author: Zeffyface
Rating: PG
Warnings: None really, if you know who they are you should be fine.
Pairing: Byakuya and Ulquiorra
Words: 2400
Note: Another ‘Just a quick drabble’ that I managed to work myself into a mess over. I’m attempting a domino effect - using the energy from finishing one to knock down the next. This was a challenge - I’ve never so much as thought about writing either of these characters. Hopefully it’s not terribly OOC.
That said, new pairings are still fun to try. I cannot, however, look at this anymore or I’ll rip it to shreds.
With well wishes to Shelagh and Akuni’s new community, hope you guys find some minor amusement out this attempt.
Now I need sleep. And plot. Real plot. *Crawls off to bed and Shink fics*
Shared Look in a Crowded Room
Byakuya walked silently, an invisible breeze toying with the edges of his long silk scarf while he meandered across Seireitei. It would have been much more efficient to simply shunpo, take the length of his walk in one single flash of a step, but this evening was peaceful and the captain had nothing pressing to do. His sandals carried him in an easy, gliding pace as he drifted across vacant streets stained with the pinks and oranges of a falling sun.
It was during his weaving around the buildings that a shadow brushed across his path, barely there before disappearing again. Pausing, the captain glanced in the direction of the trace to discover a figure moving just as silently along the above walkway, back turned as they slid open the door to a flat. From his viewpoint Byakuya caught a flash of white skin and green markings, although the large bone mask covering a good deal of the figure’s shoulder-length black hair was more than enough to give away his identity. Pensive slate eyes regarded the retreating back of Ulquiorra Schiffer as the ex-Espada walked into his flat and closed the door, not a single noise or brush of reiatsu marking his presence.
The fourth Espada’s defecting from Hueco Mundo had passed with surprising calm, although much was due to necessity. The once loyal servant of Aizen had staggered into Soul Society bloodied and torn with his would-be assassins still hot on the trail, stood, straightened, and calmly asked for asylum of the protection squads. The moment the request had been spoken a low Numero phased through the air and launched itself at the pale man’s throat, only to be sliced in half by Ulquiorra’s blade.
In the following moment Ulquiorra had collapsed unconscious from prolonged strain, leaving himself quite literally at the mercy of the assembled Shinigami.
Three months to the day, and were it not for the former Espada’s occasional presence at meetings as an informant he may have never existed. He had brought nothing save his bloodied clothing and zanpakuto, the former articles thrown out in the infirmary. He had not yet been assigned to a division, spending the majority of his time answering questions and providing information to intelligence. Few but the officers had so much as seen him; it was likely many unseated Shinigami never even knew of his presence. A stray piece of emotion flitted through Byakuya’s chest, but was gone before he could identify it.
With a final glance at the closed door he turned, captain robes swishing, and walked down the street, his steps more purposeful than before.
*
Ulquiorra slid open his door and stopped. For several seconds the former Espada simply stood in the same place, neither tense nor relaxed as iridescent green eyes took in an anomaly in the room. The only sign of confusion registered in a slow blink before he walked the rest of the way in and closed the door again.
As well as the comfortably private living quarters, Soul Society had provided Ulquiorra with a small office. Although unusual for anyone other than a highly-seated officer to possess one officially, the order had passed without so much as a questioning glance, a mutual understanding designed to benefit both parties. The office itself boasted nothing exceptional - a room placed conveniently near the back exits so that one entering might do so unnoticed. The only furniture present had come with the room: two chairs, a bookshelf against the back wall, and a desk. It was the latter that Ulquiorra trained his gaze upon, or rather, what was sitting on it.
A foot tall, intricately crafted porcelain sculpture of a tree stood innocently upon the wood that until that point held only paperwork and writing tools. Upon closer inspection it revealed itself as a cherry tree, its blossoms blushing faint pink with spring. Curiously Ulquiorra lifted the piece and turned it in his pale fingers, glancing back to the desk for some form of note or explanation. There was none.
A tiny flicker of confusion crossed the impassive green eyes. How this figure arrived in his office was both obvious and unknown. Someone brought it, opened the door, set it down, and left. That much stood to reason. But for what purpose would such an item serve? He had no need for a cherry tree, despite its flawlessness, he noted absently as he continued to examine it from all angles. Perhaps the sender intended it for a different person, someone who knew its use and needed it, and delivered it to this office on mistake. Should that be the case, he may hold another’s property in his hands, an idea that did not bode well. Among the Espada possessiveness was a required part of life, and even the smallest breach led to someone’s sword aiming for your gut. Although fairly certain that Soul Society was not quite as vindictive, Ulquiorra did not wish to test his theory so soon into his change of sides.
This conclusion reached, he brushed a thumb over a tiny craftsman marker at the base of the figurine, along with another for the original commissioner. Kuchiki. Ulquiorra blinked. It made more sense than anyone else, he supposed. Even from Hueco Mundo the sixth division captain’s zanpakuto of deadly cherry blossoms held acclaim. The other’s private office was also only one building away, a somewhat easy miss for someone new to the maze of streets and buildings. And if the stoic captain was not the intended target, he certainly would know more about the whole ordeal than Ulquiorra.
With careful hands the ex-Espada carried the tree to the door and slipped from the room, pushing away a stray thought about how nice it had looked against the wood of his desk.
Byakuya walked into his office the next day to find a tree placed in the center of his desk, carefully away from any edges or writing equipment that might harm it. One elegant eyebrow rose minutely as he walked over and sat down, contemplating the figure. A stray thought struck, and he lifted the sculpture, eyes stopping on the commission marker. A soft hum of understanding escaped him as he set it down, eyes flickering with amusement. He had not put much thought into his actions, simply a reaction to what he believed a problem - a deed to mentally check off of his list that kept his life running smoothly. This response, however, was intriguingly unexpected.
He finished his work in silence, never moving the figure impeding his writing space.
*
When Ulquiorra returned to his flat that evening, it was to greet a familiar cherry tree sitting on the side table to the left of his entranceway. He blinked at it, mentally calculating the new information and reaching several conclusions, but an equal number of questions. For the tree to be brought from Kuchiki Byakuya’s office to this flat meant the captain knew of the object’s original destination, and was most likely the original sender. In Ulquiorra’s knowledge, the cool, logical captain of the sixth rarely did anything without reasoning behind it. Several theories flitted through the ex-Espada’s head, none very likely and several slightly disconcerting. The easiest way of clearing the confusion would be to confront the other man and ask, but he would not know what was expected of him in such a conversation.
An idea brought a tiny spark behind the green eyes. There was, of course, nothing stopping him from giving it back again and saving himself a headache. And since his home had been breached, it stood to reason that turnabout was fair play.
*
When greeted by tiny pink blossoms gracing the low table of his living room, Byakuya’s mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile before resuming its usual unreadable expression. Wordlessly he walked over and picked it up, carrying it with him out of the door.
*
Ulquiorra, in turn, raised an eyebrow and let out a quiet ‘hm’ when he walked from his kitchen only to return several minutes later and find the tree sitting nonchalantly on the counter next to the pears.
*
The following morning, the sixth division captain awoke to a foreign weight on his chest and opened his eyes to look up into tiny branches, balanced perfectly on his torso. Flint gray orbs stared for the entirety of half a minute before something suspiciously like a chuckle echoed throughout the room.
*
Over the next week the exchanges continued like moves on a chess board, each man attempting to catch a glimpse of the other as the ornament appeared, quite literally, in the blink of an eye. As the placement of the tree evolved into more complex and daring feats the game moved from harmless curiosity to something slightly deeper, although the players had never so much as looked one another in the eye. For Ulquiorra it built a small measure of trust, that someone skilled enough to slip unnoticed behind his back chose to do nothing more harmful than leave a mark of presence when he turned again. It was a game of stolen glances, delectable in its exclusivity, a secret look shared between two people in a crowded room.
Then came the day when the tree did not return. Ulquiorra continued his work, only registering his slight disappointment at the end of the day with a blink and a mental shrug. On the second day he caught himself looking over his shoulder and furrowed his brows in a frown. It was a foreign feeling, how quickly he came to miss those small reminders of another’s presence. That he had become so used to it in the first place startled him.
On the third day he woke, and after a final frown and mental reprimand, went about his business, his marked face entirely neutral once more. He left his office at sundown, deciding on a whim to walk back instead of using sonido to cover the distance quickly. The shadows had lengthened, cutting through the orange beams of light that would soon fade. A flicker in the corner of his eye had Ulquiorra turn, glancing at the empty street behind. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he silently stepped into the air and vanished, appearing instantly on the nearest rooftop. The touch on his vision brushed past again and he immediately took another step, landing on a roof far enough beyond the spot for him to observe. Nothing. Iridescent green eyes took in the rooftops and streets below, absently noting at the exquisite view, as if gold and pink glaze had been dripped over the buildings.
Movement in the street below drew his gaze downward, and he blinked in surprise. A startlingly familiar figure was strolling across the street in plain sight, captain’s robes and silky black hair shifting in the breeze. Byakuya did nothing to acknowledge Ulquiorra’s presence above him, walking through the entranceway to a place that from the high vantage point could be seen as a sort of private garden.
He left the gate open. It did not take much to get the hint.
With a final leap the ex-Espada landed just outside the doorway and walked in, mindful to remain on the path so as to not disturb the plants or the small pools of still water. Looking to his left, he was both surprised and not to find a full-sized cherry tree, its leaves spread in the summer sun.
“Do you like it?” Ulquiorra turned to meet swirling orbs of blue and gray barely two feet from him. He nodded politely.
“It is a beautiful garden, Kuchiki Taicho.” His eyes never leaving the other’s face, he caught the flicker of amusement that crossed the usually unreadable eyes.
“It is a pity you did not see it in spring, although I also find the green of the cherry leaves particularly breathtaking in the sunset.” Ulquiorra did not fail to notice the captain’s eyes remained locked on his own throughout the entire exchange. A final piece of the puzzle fell into place, completing a long-sought after answer. One, Ulquiorra realized with some intrigue, he was not averse to. He found himself returning the gaze with a new set will.
“Kuchiki Taicho, I am about to make an assumption. If I am wrong, I hope you forgive my insolence.” Without leaving room for reply he flashed forward, one hand gently cupping the back of the other man’s neck as he brought their lips together.
It was a simple kiss, both a statement and a question through the certain placement but carefully soft pressure. The question quickly dissolved as one of Byakuya’s arms wrapped around Ulquiorra’s slim waist and pulled him closer, his own lips joining the slow, sensual dance. His other hand reached up to rest on the other’s jaw line, fingers sliding under the bone mask and thumb gently tracing the green marking one on one white cheek. Ulquiorra, in turn, slid his free hand under the captain’s haori to rest on a black-clad hip while the other wove into the long, sleek hair. After a few more moments their mouths opened, tongues winding and teasing at each other in a game of dominance neither would soon win, and neither seemed to mind.
After some time they parted audibly, although they remained fairly entangled, mingling open-mouthed breaths. Ulquiorra, face flushed ever so slightly, spoke first. “Why did you send me a sculpture of your cherry tree?”
Byakuya regarded him with glazed, half-lidded eyes before suggesting a shrug. “It looked nicer in your office than mine, and you did not see them bloom in spring.” His mouth quirked in an echo of a smile, one Ulquiorra found himself returning.
“Where is it now?”
“On your desk.” A small hint of something sparked in the back of the slate eyes. “Are you going to return it?”
Ulquiorra leaned in again, teasingly brushing the other’s mouth. “No.” He laid another, confident kiss on the other’s lips, receiving a hum of approval before disappearing entirely from the captain’s arms.
Behind Byakuya, a voice sounded at the entrance way to the garden. “Though I suppose you could come to claim it from me.”
A soft chuckle resonated across the empty garden as the two figures vanished from sight.
Title: Shared Look in a Crowded Room
Author: Zeffyface
Rating: PG
Warnings: None really, if you know who they are you should be fine.
Pairing: Byakuya and Ulquiorra
Words: 2400
Note: Another ‘Just a quick drabble’ that I managed to work myself into a mess over. I’m attempting a domino effect - using the energy from finishing one to knock down the next. This was a challenge - I’ve never so much as thought about writing either of these characters. Hopefully it’s not terribly OOC.
That said, new pairings are still fun to try. I cannot, however, look at this anymore or I’ll rip it to shreds.
With well wishes to Shelagh and Akuni’s new community, hope you guys find some minor amusement out this attempt.
Now I need sleep. And plot. Real plot. *Crawls off to bed and Shink fics*
Shared Look in a Crowded Room
Byakuya walked silently, an invisible breeze toying with the edges of his long silk scarf while he meandered across Seireitei. It would have been much more efficient to simply shunpo, take the length of his walk in one single flash of a step, but this evening was peaceful and the captain had nothing pressing to do. His sandals carried him in an easy, gliding pace as he drifted across vacant streets stained with the pinks and oranges of a falling sun.
It was during his weaving around the buildings that a shadow brushed across his path, barely there before disappearing again. Pausing, the captain glanced in the direction of the trace to discover a figure moving just as silently along the above walkway, back turned as they slid open the door to a flat. From his viewpoint Byakuya caught a flash of white skin and green markings, although the large bone mask covering a good deal of the figure’s shoulder-length black hair was more than enough to give away his identity. Pensive slate eyes regarded the retreating back of Ulquiorra Schiffer as the ex-Espada walked into his flat and closed the door, not a single noise or brush of reiatsu marking his presence.
The fourth Espada’s defecting from Hueco Mundo had passed with surprising calm, although much was due to necessity. The once loyal servant of Aizen had staggered into Soul Society bloodied and torn with his would-be assassins still hot on the trail, stood, straightened, and calmly asked for asylum of the protection squads. The moment the request had been spoken a low Numero phased through the air and launched itself at the pale man’s throat, only to be sliced in half by Ulquiorra’s blade.
In the following moment Ulquiorra had collapsed unconscious from prolonged strain, leaving himself quite literally at the mercy of the assembled Shinigami.
Three months to the day, and were it not for the former Espada’s occasional presence at meetings as an informant he may have never existed. He had brought nothing save his bloodied clothing and zanpakuto, the former articles thrown out in the infirmary. He had not yet been assigned to a division, spending the majority of his time answering questions and providing information to intelligence. Few but the officers had so much as seen him; it was likely many unseated Shinigami never even knew of his presence. A stray piece of emotion flitted through Byakuya’s chest, but was gone before he could identify it.
With a final glance at the closed door he turned, captain robes swishing, and walked down the street, his steps more purposeful than before.
*
Ulquiorra slid open his door and stopped. For several seconds the former Espada simply stood in the same place, neither tense nor relaxed as iridescent green eyes took in an anomaly in the room. The only sign of confusion registered in a slow blink before he walked the rest of the way in and closed the door again.
As well as the comfortably private living quarters, Soul Society had provided Ulquiorra with a small office. Although unusual for anyone other than a highly-seated officer to possess one officially, the order had passed without so much as a questioning glance, a mutual understanding designed to benefit both parties. The office itself boasted nothing exceptional - a room placed conveniently near the back exits so that one entering might do so unnoticed. The only furniture present had come with the room: two chairs, a bookshelf against the back wall, and a desk. It was the latter that Ulquiorra trained his gaze upon, or rather, what was sitting on it.
A foot tall, intricately crafted porcelain sculpture of a tree stood innocently upon the wood that until that point held only paperwork and writing tools. Upon closer inspection it revealed itself as a cherry tree, its blossoms blushing faint pink with spring. Curiously Ulquiorra lifted the piece and turned it in his pale fingers, glancing back to the desk for some form of note or explanation. There was none.
A tiny flicker of confusion crossed the impassive green eyes. How this figure arrived in his office was both obvious and unknown. Someone brought it, opened the door, set it down, and left. That much stood to reason. But for what purpose would such an item serve? He had no need for a cherry tree, despite its flawlessness, he noted absently as he continued to examine it from all angles. Perhaps the sender intended it for a different person, someone who knew its use and needed it, and delivered it to this office on mistake. Should that be the case, he may hold another’s property in his hands, an idea that did not bode well. Among the Espada possessiveness was a required part of life, and even the smallest breach led to someone’s sword aiming for your gut. Although fairly certain that Soul Society was not quite as vindictive, Ulquiorra did not wish to test his theory so soon into his change of sides.
This conclusion reached, he brushed a thumb over a tiny craftsman marker at the base of the figurine, along with another for the original commissioner. Kuchiki. Ulquiorra blinked. It made more sense than anyone else, he supposed. Even from Hueco Mundo the sixth division captain’s zanpakuto of deadly cherry blossoms held acclaim. The other’s private office was also only one building away, a somewhat easy miss for someone new to the maze of streets and buildings. And if the stoic captain was not the intended target, he certainly would know more about the whole ordeal than Ulquiorra.
With careful hands the ex-Espada carried the tree to the door and slipped from the room, pushing away a stray thought about how nice it had looked against the wood of his desk.
Byakuya walked into his office the next day to find a tree placed in the center of his desk, carefully away from any edges or writing equipment that might harm it. One elegant eyebrow rose minutely as he walked over and sat down, contemplating the figure. A stray thought struck, and he lifted the sculpture, eyes stopping on the commission marker. A soft hum of understanding escaped him as he set it down, eyes flickering with amusement. He had not put much thought into his actions, simply a reaction to what he believed a problem - a deed to mentally check off of his list that kept his life running smoothly. This response, however, was intriguingly unexpected.
He finished his work in silence, never moving the figure impeding his writing space.
*
When Ulquiorra returned to his flat that evening, it was to greet a familiar cherry tree sitting on the side table to the left of his entranceway. He blinked at it, mentally calculating the new information and reaching several conclusions, but an equal number of questions. For the tree to be brought from Kuchiki Byakuya’s office to this flat meant the captain knew of the object’s original destination, and was most likely the original sender. In Ulquiorra’s knowledge, the cool, logical captain of the sixth rarely did anything without reasoning behind it. Several theories flitted through the ex-Espada’s head, none very likely and several slightly disconcerting. The easiest way of clearing the confusion would be to confront the other man and ask, but he would not know what was expected of him in such a conversation.
An idea brought a tiny spark behind the green eyes. There was, of course, nothing stopping him from giving it back again and saving himself a headache. And since his home had been breached, it stood to reason that turnabout was fair play.
*
When greeted by tiny pink blossoms gracing the low table of his living room, Byakuya’s mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile before resuming its usual unreadable expression. Wordlessly he walked over and picked it up, carrying it with him out of the door.
*
Ulquiorra, in turn, raised an eyebrow and let out a quiet ‘hm’ when he walked from his kitchen only to return several minutes later and find the tree sitting nonchalantly on the counter next to the pears.
*
The following morning, the sixth division captain awoke to a foreign weight on his chest and opened his eyes to look up into tiny branches, balanced perfectly on his torso. Flint gray orbs stared for the entirety of half a minute before something suspiciously like a chuckle echoed throughout the room.
*
Over the next week the exchanges continued like moves on a chess board, each man attempting to catch a glimpse of the other as the ornament appeared, quite literally, in the blink of an eye. As the placement of the tree evolved into more complex and daring feats the game moved from harmless curiosity to something slightly deeper, although the players had never so much as looked one another in the eye. For Ulquiorra it built a small measure of trust, that someone skilled enough to slip unnoticed behind his back chose to do nothing more harmful than leave a mark of presence when he turned again. It was a game of stolen glances, delectable in its exclusivity, a secret look shared between two people in a crowded room.
Then came the day when the tree did not return. Ulquiorra continued his work, only registering his slight disappointment at the end of the day with a blink and a mental shrug. On the second day he caught himself looking over his shoulder and furrowed his brows in a frown. It was a foreign feeling, how quickly he came to miss those small reminders of another’s presence. That he had become so used to it in the first place startled him.
On the third day he woke, and after a final frown and mental reprimand, went about his business, his marked face entirely neutral once more. He left his office at sundown, deciding on a whim to walk back instead of using sonido to cover the distance quickly. The shadows had lengthened, cutting through the orange beams of light that would soon fade. A flicker in the corner of his eye had Ulquiorra turn, glancing at the empty street behind. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he silently stepped into the air and vanished, appearing instantly on the nearest rooftop. The touch on his vision brushed past again and he immediately took another step, landing on a roof far enough beyond the spot for him to observe. Nothing. Iridescent green eyes took in the rooftops and streets below, absently noting at the exquisite view, as if gold and pink glaze had been dripped over the buildings.
Movement in the street below drew his gaze downward, and he blinked in surprise. A startlingly familiar figure was strolling across the street in plain sight, captain’s robes and silky black hair shifting in the breeze. Byakuya did nothing to acknowledge Ulquiorra’s presence above him, walking through the entranceway to a place that from the high vantage point could be seen as a sort of private garden.
He left the gate open. It did not take much to get the hint.
With a final leap the ex-Espada landed just outside the doorway and walked in, mindful to remain on the path so as to not disturb the plants or the small pools of still water. Looking to his left, he was both surprised and not to find a full-sized cherry tree, its leaves spread in the summer sun.
“Do you like it?” Ulquiorra turned to meet swirling orbs of blue and gray barely two feet from him. He nodded politely.
“It is a beautiful garden, Kuchiki Taicho.” His eyes never leaving the other’s face, he caught the flicker of amusement that crossed the usually unreadable eyes.
“It is a pity you did not see it in spring, although I also find the green of the cherry leaves particularly breathtaking in the sunset.” Ulquiorra did not fail to notice the captain’s eyes remained locked on his own throughout the entire exchange. A final piece of the puzzle fell into place, completing a long-sought after answer. One, Ulquiorra realized with some intrigue, he was not averse to. He found himself returning the gaze with a new set will.
“Kuchiki Taicho, I am about to make an assumption. If I am wrong, I hope you forgive my insolence.” Without leaving room for reply he flashed forward, one hand gently cupping the back of the other man’s neck as he brought their lips together.
It was a simple kiss, both a statement and a question through the certain placement but carefully soft pressure. The question quickly dissolved as one of Byakuya’s arms wrapped around Ulquiorra’s slim waist and pulled him closer, his own lips joining the slow, sensual dance. His other hand reached up to rest on the other’s jaw line, fingers sliding under the bone mask and thumb gently tracing the green marking one on one white cheek. Ulquiorra, in turn, slid his free hand under the captain’s haori to rest on a black-clad hip while the other wove into the long, sleek hair. After a few more moments their mouths opened, tongues winding and teasing at each other in a game of dominance neither would soon win, and neither seemed to mind.
After some time they parted audibly, although they remained fairly entangled, mingling open-mouthed breaths. Ulquiorra, face flushed ever so slightly, spoke first. “Why did you send me a sculpture of your cherry tree?”
Byakuya regarded him with glazed, half-lidded eyes before suggesting a shrug. “It looked nicer in your office than mine, and you did not see them bloom in spring.” His mouth quirked in an echo of a smile, one Ulquiorra found himself returning.
“Where is it now?”
“On your desk.” A small hint of something sparked in the back of the slate eyes. “Are you going to return it?”
Ulquiorra leaned in again, teasingly brushing the other’s mouth. “No.” He laid another, confident kiss on the other’s lips, receiving a hum of approval before disappearing entirely from the captain’s arms.
Behind Byakuya, a voice sounded at the entrance way to the garden. “Though I suppose you could come to claim it from me.”
A soft chuckle resonated across the empty garden as the two figures vanished from sight.