A/N: Drabbles of at least 100 words, using song titles and themes as bases.
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-Say it Right-
"So, what are we?" Ichigo asked one early morning as Ishida slid out from under the blankets of his bed. The raven-haired Quincy turned his head, slipping his glasses into place. His blue eyes hid behind them, and he moved them in search of his boxers on the floor.
"What do you mean, 'what are we'?" He asked with ridicule in his voice. It was still dark; a quick glance to the clock told the orange haired boy that it was still only four am. So, Uryuu wanted to get home and shower before school. Going in together would be a no, of course. Someone would notice. And then there would be the questions... And with no answer, that would make it impossible to respond.
"Don't give me that crap." Ichigo sat up, crooking one knee up. The sheets fell to his waist, revealing his toned body. It caught the corner of Ishida's vision, temporarily distracting him from his boxer-seeking quest. Wide shoulders, strong arms, rigid chest and stomach... It was nothing like his own slender physique. Oh sure, Ishida was in top form. But he was built for speed and agility, not strength. But still, they both bore the marks of their respective skills on their chests, just over their hearts. "You know what I mean. What do I mean to you?" Ichigo's voice snapped him out of his reverie. But Ishida's eyes were on the scar on Ichigo's chest. His voice was cold.
"...Nothing at all, Shinigami." He said, standing up and snatching his boxers from the floor. The only thing that kept him from shouting in protest as his wrist was grabbed and his body was pulled back onto the bed was the knowledge that it would wake the house's other occupants. The last thing that they needed was for little Yuzu and Karin to come in and see them... "Kurosaki--!" His hiss was cut off by a kiss. He gave a half-hearted struggle, but his wrists were pinned beside his head. When it broke, his glasses and hair were astray, and they were both panting.
"I didn't... ask you... about that part of me. I asked you... what Ichigo meant to you..." Ichigo said honestly, his brown eyes half-lidded. He had the very same expression as if he was trying to stare down his strongest enemy in battle. The Quincy couldn't keep his standards. He wiggled his wrists, and the other released them. Long graceful fingers entwined with the Shinigami's own. He squeezed them in return.
"Well, he... makes me feel..." Lips closed over one another. It looked like they would be going to school together, after all...
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-What Becomes of Us?-
It was something that they asked themselves before every battle. Every little thought, no matter how paranoid and far fetched became a reality. Something completely possible.
Ishida Uryuu had nothing to return to. It would probably take his father weeks to discover that he was even missing. Even he had to admit that it was partially his fault, living alone without contact for so long. Still, he couldn't face the man that could watch as innocent souls were devoured by Hollows. The man that had let his own father die, leaving him to the mercy of the Shinigami who never came... He fought alone, for his own stubborn pride and dignity. For those who couldn't fight for themselves.
Kurosaki Ichigo had everything to return to. His sisters and his father. He had friends at school that missed him every day that he was absent. Even if they were a pain sometimes, he wouldn't trade them for anything. Instead, they became the reason that he fought. His friends and loved ones, he couldn't bear to see anything happen to them. For them, he would gladly stand on the front line, using his body if need be, to shield them.
It was all understood; accepted by those around them and themselves. Until things had changed they believed it to be all that was. That each of them had their own sense of self, and home.
It took a lot of courage to watch the rash, thick-headed, overconfident and foolhardy orange-haired substitute-Shinigami run head first into another fight. Thinking what bandages he would be wrapping this time, and scolding him for using his head to block again. The numbing fear that he might not come back at all.
It took just as much restraint to watch the stubborn, prideful, and too-careful raven-haired Quincy go in the other direction to do his part. How much would he let himself get hurt before he figured out his tactic this time? Would his fingertips bleed from the unforgiving strings of his bow, just to insist on doctoring himself again? And the paralyzing fear that he wouldn't be there when he was really needed.
Their fears were unfounded in the end, as they learned each time they saw each others faces after another fight. Ichigo's confident smile, and Ishida's stoic expression as he adjusted his glasses. They had thought home was that empty and lonely apartment, and that noisy house full of family. But they were wrong.
Home was warmth, the kind that they only felt at the end of the day when they both gave in. This was the answer they had come to, after so many unspoken words. Ishida no longer dreaded what he was, or being alone. And Ichigo never felt more at home then when the guarded Quincy allowed himself to be held by him.