Title: Uryuu's Notebook
Pairing: Uryuu/Ichigo
Rating: NC-17/M
Warnings: m/m sex, drama, some language, awkward teenagers
Summary: Uryuu carries a special notebook full of things he really shouldn't be writing about a certain classmate.
AN: Here's a crazy little plot bunny that sprang up and demanded to be written one random day: what if Uryuu wrote lemons about Ichigo? Yeah, you know you've thought about it, too. This is set after the current arc (spoilers!) with some assumptions about how it'll resolve between Ichigo and Uryuu after this supposed betrayal business. Knowing Kubo, he'll probably end up making Uryuu a damn martyr or something, geez. But my assumption for this fic is that they will basically go back to the way they always are after they beat the bad guys: casual friends.

I can't promise this will be updated as quickly as I have other stories in the past. This one is not quite finished (it's about 3/4 done right now) but I will definitely not be abandoning it. I'm working on wrapping it up as soon as possible but I wanted to go ahead and start posting while I have the time.


I

Eyes dark and intense on mine, K. inched a hand down his chest and popped the snaps open one by one while I watched. When he reached the final one, I swallowed. His chest was magnificent: all rigid lines and thin scars showcasing his strength and experience. He smiled at the flustered look on my face, letting lips curl wickedly as his fingers unbuckled his belt and yanked it out in one fluid motion. I opened my mouth to speak just as he slipped the button of his pants undone.

"What are you doing, K.?"

"What do you think? How do you want it, I.?"

"What're you writing so furiously over here, Ishida?"

"K-Kurosaki!" Uryuu gasps, slamming his notebook closed before the boy's nosiness gets them both into trouble. "None of your damned business! Don't you know it's rude to read someone else's notes?"

"Whoa, whoa," he placates with raised brows. "All right, forget I asked. Sheesh."

"Anyway, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask if you're doing anything tonight."

"What!?"

The outburst gets the attention of their classmates.

Heart racing, Uryuu wills himself not to start sweating. The last thing he needs is to give himself away with biological indications of the stress he shouldn't be feeling right now. Yet, having Kurosaki Ichigo come up and ask if he's free is a rare enough occurrence that it has Uryuu panicking a little bit. They barely talk to each other outside of the battlefield these days, so why should he want to talk now? The last time this happened it was just sewing a plushy, but something tells him this is different.

Could it be that Kurosaki caught a glimpse of his writings and is looking for a confrontation? That thought shoots another amp of adrenaline into his blood; it's all he can do to keep from panting. It's not that he habitually writes erotic fiction during study period at school…it's just that lately he's been having issues that he works through by writing about them. Those issues may or may not have something to do with the Idiot Shinigami standing in front of his desk right now.

Okay, so maybe he writes quite a bit; just usually not at school where he can get caught.

"Well, we have that exam this Friday and I don't know if you noticed but I've been fighting Hollows pretty much every damn day for the past week, so I'm a little behind. Soul Society is trying to send someone to help with the spike lately, but...They're mostly low-level anyway." Frowning like it cost him to admit it, Kurosaki shifts his feet and scratches the back of his head in discomfort. "I'm sure you know all of this; you never needed a cell phone to tell you when they pop up. Anyway, I could use some help studying."

"I'm sure Inoue-san would be more than happy to—"

"She's going on a date with Chad tonight and to a movie with Tatsuki tomorrow."

"Oh."

"And there's no one else I know who might be able to tutor someone, so…please, Ishida? I'll pay you back. Buy you lunch?"

Uryuu adjusts his glasses to cover the soft blush that springs to his cheeks because he just pictured Kurosaki buying lunch for him and thanking him for help with schoolwork. It's so normal and quaint that it tugs at a weird spot in his gut. A couple of years ago Kurosaki would have demanded his help and followed Uryuu around, nagging until he finally caved. The fact that he's been showing consideration more and more often lately is unnerving.

"I refuse."

"What? Why?" Kurosaki groans, frown growing petulant. "Come on, Ishida, you're my last hope."

"I have far too many things to better spend my time doing than instructing morons too lazy to study outside of class."

With that, Uryuu gathers his things and stands from the desk. It is close enough to the end of school that no one will care if he foregoes the last few minutes of the day. Besides, a reprimand would be preferable to dealing with the glare Kurosaki seems keen on fixing him with. He sidesteps the fuming boy and strides out of the room with his usual level of poise. Right before he deems himself safe, however, he hears heavy footfalls echoing his lighter ones in the hall.

"You make it sound like all I do is sit around and watch TV all day," Kurosaki growls low so they won't be overheard from students in other classrooms. "You know better than anyone how much time I have to spend fighting for this town! I will seriously fail if I don't learn this stuff fast. Can't you do this one thing for me? When have I ever asked you for anything?"

"Since when did you become such a nagging woman, Kurosaki?" he coolly responds.

He takes the stairs at a jaunty trot in the hopes that he will gain some distance between them, to no avail. Kurosaki trails him all the way out of the building. Uryuu glances back to confirm that the boy remembered to grab his own bag before chasing after him. Which means he's planning to be even more stubborn about this than usual.

"What's so important that you don't have an hour to spare for a friend? If I help you, then you'll have time to help me, right?"

"Let's get one thing straight." Uryuu halts so fast that Kurosaki bumps into him. Shoving him off, Uryuu narrows his gaze and looks straight at the boy's baffled expression. "We are not now, nor have we ever been friends, Kurosaki. How many times must I reiterate before you accept it?"

"Fuck that."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Planting the hand that isn't holding his bag on a hip, Kurosaki stares right back at him and raises his voice in annoyance. "How many years have we been fighting together and you're going to try and say we're not friends? Even if we don't hang out that much because someone likes to pretend he's too busy. That's bullshit. So 'reiterate' all you like, Ishida, I'm never accepting it."

Uryuu rolls his eyes and resumes a purposeful stride towards the promised solace of his empty apartment. Not for the first time, he is grateful to have his own place, even if it is small and minimally-furnished.

"I still refuse. Anyway, my tasks aren't something that anyone else can help with," he grumbles, thinking of the story he has been trying to finish for the past three days. "So take the hint already and find someone else."

Kurosaki stews about this for another few minutes of brisk walking. They are already halfway to his place and he shows no signs of relenting. Uryuu starts to get worried when he realizes that the way this is headed will result in Kurosaki knowing where he lives. It's bad enough he had to give the boy his cell number when he finally got one last semester. Much less inviting the possibility that he will randomly show up to bug him.

A firm hand claps onto his shoulder; Uryuu jolts and freezes. Turning his head, he follows that hand up an arm to see Kurosaki's pitiful pout. This transition from righteous anger to a naked entreaty startles him enough to shut his mouth when he knows he should start yelling.

"Look, I don't know what I did to irritate you this time, but this is really important. It sounds dumb making a big deal over one exam but the truth is I'm really behind. If I don't start picking up my grades I might actually flunk out of high school." He sighs then, lifting the grasp on Uryuu to rub at his own forehead in mental weariness. "My dad would really kick my ass if that happened, so…please, Ishida."

There it is again. Uryuu can't recall a single moment in their long acquaintance that resulted in those two words being strung together. Now not only once, but twice in one argument. A tingle of guilt arcs through his chest and Uryuu wants to hit him. Why should he care whether Kurosaki flunks out of school or not? They're not friends, damn it!

Kurosaki's eyes widen a fraction as Uryuu makes a fist at his side. He glances up to meet Uryuu's eyes in a shocked question. Looking so vulnerable and confused. Damn him.

"Fine!" he snaps, releasing his fist and pivoting on a heel to head for his apartment. "Come on."

"Really!?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Kurosaki."

"Y-yeah," he hastily agrees, jogging to catch up with Uryuu's militant pace. "Thanks, Ishida."

Muttering darkly to himself, Uryuu ignores the fizzy bubble his grateful tone inspires. He knows he will regret this later, if only for the extra ogling he will get to do, fueling his unhealthy physical attraction to the fool. Seriously, why couldn't he prefer someone less brash and careless? More refined and dignified like Kuchiki Byakuya or maybe Hirako Shinji? He would have zero problems lusting after them since he rarely sees them day-to-day. Wanting an off-limits classmate who potentially follows you home for forced tutoring is not conducive to a stable psyche.

The rest of the walk home is brief enough that the silence is not awkward. Though the minute they step over the threshold and shed their shoes, Uryuu feels his shoulders tighten incrementally. He watches Kurosaki look around and tries not to recall the various fantasies he's had, the sordid scenes he has written about this boy being in his domain. Against the wall, on the floor, over his desk…

"Do you know how crazy you drive me," K. growled and grabbed my hips. "Ignoring me at school like that?"

"You deserve it."

"I'll show you what I deserve, I."

With trademark speed and strength, he swiped an arm across my desk and dislodged all the books and office supplies there. Then he spun me at the waist and forced me to bend over the desk. Arms braced on the dark, cool wood I bit my lip as he dragged firm hands down my back and over my ass. I couldn't hold back a small moan as he took a step forward to grind his erection into me. My fingernails scraped into the smooth surface when he leaned close to rub a hand down my stomach and lower, the heat of his palm settling over my—

"Nice place," Kurosaki blithely comments, plopping onto Uryuu's two-seater sofa. "Cozy."

"Don't pander. It's a dump."

"I wasn't pandering—"

"What do you need to learn?" Uryuu interrupts. His temper is short and he wants to get Kurosaki out of this space as soon as possible, before his reiatsu can infuse the place for weeks. Just being alone in the same room as him piques Uryuu's interest in the most primitive part of his brain. He pulls out a stack of textbooks and slams them onto his coffee table. "The exam is in calculus, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"How far behind are you?"

Flipping violently through the thick book, Uryuu glances up when Kurosaki doesn't answer after several seconds. He is staring at Uryuu as if he can't quite figure him out. Good, he thinks. The less Kurosaki understands about him, the better.

"Do you have anything to drink first? I forgot to bring juice for lunch today and I'm really thirsty."

"This isn't a restaurant. This is my home and I don't want you in it any longer than necessary. So hurry up and tell me which parts you need to review."

"You know what? Never mind. I think I'll just go."

With a shallow frown, Kurosaki stands and walks towards the door. The thing that has Uryuu sighing to himself and following is the air of defeat that surrounds Kurosaki. Worse than anger is the apparent hurt he chooses to take from Uryuu's brusqueness. Again, he reminds himself that they are not friends and that he should not care one way or the other how Kurosaki feels about anything. Yet he slaps a hand to his door just before Kurosaki opens it.

"Wait."

And they are too close. Kurosaki's scent and reiatsu flare out from his body and Uryuu's blood burns a little hotter. He keeps his eyes off the boy's figure by force of habit alone. The self-restraint costs him precious seconds which have Kurosaki appraising him uncertainly.

"What? You want me to leave, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then move your hand and I will."

"No."

"Which is it, Ishida?" he says, taking a step closer as an aggressive gesture. It has the opposite effect. The warmth of Kurosaki's ire joins the other two sensations plaguing him. Add that to the decreased proximity which defeats his attempts at keeping his attention elsewhere and Uryuu is struggling. "You want me to stay or you want me to go?"

"Both! Neither! I don't know."

He can't think. He's too busy fighting off visions of what would normally happen next in one of his stories. Kurosaki gets pissy and confrontational so often that he can't not write that aspect of him into the plot lines most of the time. In an ideal world, Kurosaki would get a stroke of insight about why Uryuu is being so indecisive. He would finally recognize the subtle signals Uryuu's body inadvertently sends out whenever Kurosaki is near him. Then he would realize his own attraction to Uryuu and do something impulsive—as he tends to—like pushing him against the wall and kissing the sense out of him.

But this isn't one of his stories and Kurosaki continues to stand there giving him that look like he's not sure Uryuu hasn't recently escaped from the mental ward.

"Ishida?"

"Sit down."

Pausing at that, Kurosaki is clearly unsure. In the end, he has too much to lose by acting on his pride so he does as he is told and returns to the couch. Uryuu joins him with a stiff spine. His mind is full of what-ifs and if-onlys that threaten to drive him as mad as Kurosaki now suspects he may be. This is exactly why he spends as little time around Kurosaki as humanly possible.

"Integration," Kurosaki mumbles after a moment. "And matrices. I need help with those the most."

Uryuu nods once and flips to the relevant chapter, instructing him to read the formulas listed in the highlighted box. Kurosaki obediently takes the text and he gets up to wander into the kitchen. Uryuu comes back out with two glasses of iced tea and wordlessly hands one to his reluctant guest.

"The hardest thing about calculus is memorizing the complex formulae, assuming you can handle the basic arithmetic," he begins when Kurosaki opens his mouth to thank him for the drink. He doesn't need to hear it. "So if you can remember how these integers plug into these variables, you shouldn't have much trouble. The rest is left to your graphing calculator. Do you have it set to radians?"

He does his best to tune everything else out and just go into teacher-mode. Taking turns lecturing and asking questions, then solving some simple example problems has them on their way. About an hour later, Kurosaki is confident he can pass the upcoming exam. Uryuu admits to himself that he is impressed. The material is not simple but Kurosaki seems to be grasping it quickly.

So surprised by this apparent lack of true idiocy is he that they get carried away with it. Intending to only study for an hour becomes two, which turns into nearly three. When Kurosaki correctly solves a problem so complicated that it would only be on a university exam, Uryuu finally slips up and comments on it.

"I see your aptitude for growth in battle extends to your studies after all."

As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, he straightens. Uryuu had not intended to compliment Kurosaki. Ever. Since one leads to two leads to 'I think you're so fucking hot that if you asked me to suck you off right now, I'd get on my knees'. That thought combines with the pleased smile Kurosaki shows him and Uryuu chokes on his own tongue. What happened to the arrogant Kurosaki who would have frowned and insulted Uryuu for daring to praise him?

"Yeah, I normally don't have trouble, but when I have zero time to study and I'm having to skip class besides…"

"Yes, well. Doesn't change the fact that you lack strategic insight, prudence, and common sense."

He puts as much ice into his tone as he can muster under the thaw of Kurosaki's radiant presence, but the boy only chuckles at him. Uryuu has to wonder when he stopped being able to bait the boy into a shouting match with a simple snarky line. Too many things have changed since the Winter War's end. Then Kurosaki's stomach grumbles. They both fall silent as he blushes lightly. Uryuu wants to smack him and kiss him at the same time. As usual.

"Do you want to order take-out or something? My treat."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I figured you might be hungry, too, since we've been at it for so long."

"Speaking of that, don't you think it's time you stopped leeching off my intellect and went home already?"

"Actually, I was thinking about that quiz we have in geography tomorrow."

"Kurosaki…"

"Do you like orange chicken?"

"I am not your personal tutor."

"I know that. But while we're here, might as well make the most of it, right? Plus, everyone knows that teaching others solidifies what you've recently learned."

While Uryuu simmers at his audacity, Kurosaki pulls out his phone and googles a nearby delivery restaurant, then calls and places a quick order. When he's done he turns to Uryuu and smirks, as if to say, 'so there'.

"Remember those things I said I needed to do?" Uryuu reminds as he glares. "I still need to do them."

"I'll still help you."

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because…it's not…because you just can't," he yells, flinging his arms out emphatically. He hits one of their glasses of tea and sends it flying. Straight into Kurosaki's lap. "Shit."

"At least it isn't hot," Kurosaki calmly says, retrieving the empty cup and setting it on the table.

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know."

"Take off your pants." Both of them go rigid at that. Uryuu barely resists the urge to slap a palm to his forehead. He locks it down before it sets him stuttering. "So I can clean them."

"You have a washing machine?"

"No, but I have soap and a sink and two hands. Hurry up, before it stains. Bathroom is down the hall on the left."

"Yeah, okay."

Kurosaki stands slowly, trying not to shake more of the dark liquid onto the sofa and carpet. Truthfully, Uryuu could care less about them as they are already in a sad state; he doesn't exactly get a hefty allowance but at least he doesn't have to live with Ryuuken anymore. He watches Kurosaki find the restroom and shut himself inside it. Then he tries very, very hard not to picture what he is doing in there. Unfortunately, he has written a few too many strip-tease scenes to keep his thoughts pure now. A lamenting groan bursts free as he collapses against the cushion behind him.

No matter how many times he thinks about Kurosaki stripping, it never loses any of its appeal.

Shrugging out of his over-shirt, K. looked over his shoulder at me and blinked slowly. The whisper of fabric over his skin was audible in the silence between us, that stunned silence he always put me into. K. trailed his fingers along the hem of his undershirt before flipping the edges up a few centimeters. Teasing me. The leisurely stretch of cotton shifting upward drew my eyes like he knew it had to. He pulled the article all the way off and dropped it behind his back—that incredible expanse I was staring at so intently. I heard the zip and he hooked his thumbs into his jeans, pulling only enough to expose the twin dimples just above his rear.

K. strutted over to me then and took my hands in his to push at his pants together. Awed at the sight of him being unwrapped for me, I followed the piece of clothing down, sinking to my knees in front of him. He grinned down at me and licked his lips.

"Well, what are you waiting for, I.? Let's—"

"Fuck," Uryuu moans as those familiar images assail him.

"Hey, Ishida?"

"What?" he snaps, surging upright. "What's so hard about taking…off…"

He completely loses his train of thought because Kurosaki is standing in front of him with damp orange boxer-briefs and a uniform shirt open over a black tank top. Idly, he thinks the shade of Kurosaki's underwear very closely matches his hair, where tea doesn't stain it darker. Maybe it's the color of his hair when it's wet. Or the color of his—oh, gods, his happy trail. Uryuu can see part of it just above his waistband where his tank rides up a few centimeters.

"It's on my shirts, too. Kind of sticky. Can I use your shower?"

"Yuh-erm—Yes."

"Do you have a towel I can borrow?"

"Hall cabinet."

"Cool. I'll leave my clothes outside the door."

Uryuu swallows back the excess saliva and commands himself to snap out of it. Things are going to get very weird if he doesn't get himself under control! Suddenly the reason why he must keep his attraction a secret comes to mind. Aside from the facts that Kurosaki is a Shinigami, is not Uryuu's friend, and is a total idiot—in theory—there is the little matter of his sexual preference. Which he has on good authority is: not males. Actually, Uryuu heard that he asked Inoue-san out but that she turned him down and started dating Sado-kun instead. So if he catches wind of Uryuu's inappropriate desires he may run screaming, die laughing, or start swinging. Either way, it's bound to be highly unpleasant.

Which is why Uryuu spends a tense ten minutes pacing the room and inwardly repeating a mantra: 'I will not lust after Kurosaki, I will not lust after Kurosaki'.

It doesn't work. In between repetitions of the short phrase, images of the boy swiping swaths of white foam over his tan skin flash through his fevered brain like a pornographic slideshow. Water sluicing down and flattening that wild hair, caressing the angles of his tall form. Kurosaki tipping his head back to rinse the shampoo, exposing a long neck and prominent Adam's apple. Wide hands slipping easily over his own flesh. All of this is happening in his shower right now.

"Holy mother of—"

Invocation interrupted by a knock on the door, Uryuu skitters across the room to answer it. It is the delivery of their meal. Uryuu pays and thanks the cheerful woman, then tosses the bag of boxes onto the coffee table with a passive-aggressive growl. Kurosaki's stupid confidence and stubbornness making impositions when Uryuu should be spending this time in self-therapy of one sort or another.

The notion of self-therapy has him wondering why Kurosaki is taking so long. If the food is already here he must have been in the restroom longer than Uryuu realized. Shrugging it off, he strolls down the hall to collect the man's clothes and wash them as promised. Outside the door, he bends to retrieve them. He hears an odd sound. Kind of like a grunt and a sigh smashed together.

Immediately fleeing, he shakes his head and tells himself he's imagining things again. There's no chance Kurosaki is doing anything like that in his shower. Mostly because if he was Uryuu would spontaneously combust from the amount of heat such a reality would generate. It's not possible. It can't be possible.

He drops the clothes into the sink and flips on the tap to begin cleaning them. Sprinkling detergent over the fabric, he gets some of his frustration out as he vigorously scrubs. By some miracle, Kurosaki has elected to hang onto his underwear instead of putting them out with the rest of his things to be washed. Probably thinking, like any normal teenager, that having a friend cleaning your undies is too weird. Whatever the reason Uryuu is thankful for small mercies.

After he finishes rinsing and wringing them out he pins them to dry on the line running across his small patio. Something else occurs to him. Kurosaki can't very well wear a sopping wet uniform any more than he can wear a tea-soaked one. He'll have to borrow something of Uryuu's until they're dry. He'd be lying if he claimed he's never written about that, too. Uryuu pushes that thought firmly aside and goes back into his living room. To find Kurosaki sitting on the couch eating out of one of the boxes with nothing but a towel around his waist.

Aneurism. He's going to have an aneurism.

"Do you mind if I borrow—"

"Yes! I mean no. I-I'll get you an outfit."

Sparing himself a frazzled half-minute to hyperventilate in his closet, Uryuu emerges with loose-fitting lounge pants and a stretched-out t-shirt he hasn't gotten around to throwing away. He holds them out to Kurosaki while looking resolutely in the opposite direction. His lips are pursed into a severe line and his eyes are three different degrees of twitchy but he can't do anything about it. It's his own fault for flinging tea onto the boy in the first place.

Kurosaki thanks him and swiftly changes in the bathroom. Uryuu is standing in the exact same spot when he returns and picks up his half-full container to finish. His eyes are on Uryuu, curious and maybe a little worried. He wants to tell Kurosaki to mind his own business and stop staring but he's too busy restraining his reaction to seeing the boy in his clothes. Being slightly more filled-out, Kurosaki's form barely fits into the tight garments. Uryuu can see far too much definition beneath the thin fabric. Plus, he's smelling like Uryuu's soap and sprawled so comfortably on his couch.

"You gonna eat, or…?"

"Mn."

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Because you're not usually this helpful and quiet at the same time," Kurosaki elaborates, finishing his current box and grabbing another. Uryuu sits as far from him as possible and nibbles some chicken, chancing a look at him. "Normally you'd be bitching about how big of a pain in your ass I am."

Poor choice of words. Coughing on his tiny bite of food, Uryuu swallows harshly and sips at the remaining glass of tea, which he belatedly recalls as being Kurosaki's. Dear gods, kill him now. This all seemed so much easier to deal with when he was almost sixteen, before he'd had over two years of compounded lust mixed in.

"Maybe I'm all out of energy to battle your constant efflux of annoying habits."

"Or maybe you finally realized how much easier it is to be nice to people."

"You're not 'people', Kurosaki."

"So you're saying it's just me? You have the energy to be rude to everyone else but me?"

"No one else drains my reserves like you do," he grumbles after swallowing another mouthful.

Kurosaki laughs. "Well, I might have to drain you more often if it means you'll be this manageable. I like an Ishida who drills me for hours without complaint and lends me clothes when he makes a mess of mine!"

Uryuu blushes. He absolutely cannot repress it. Even though Kurosaki clearly didn't intend those implications for his words, they're there nonetheless. Talking about draining Uryuu and liking him, drilling and making messes. He can't. He just can't.

"Kurosaki," he eventually breathes past his mortification. And the rice that almost gets lodged in his trachea. "I think you should go."

"Huh? Why?" Honestly perplexed, he lowers his chopsticks and frowns at Uryuu. "It was just a joke. I won't actually make a habit of irritating you more than usual. Although I was serious about the rest of it. Hey, are you blushing?"

"N-no! Of course not. Why would I be—?"

"That's what I want to know," he says with a quirked eyebrow. "Because you clearly are. Is it because I gave you a compliment instead of an insult for a change?"

"You've got the wrong idea here, Kurosaki."

"Then correct me."

"No."

"No?" The incredulous huff startles Uryuu. "The hell do you mean 'no'?"

"I don't have to answer to you!" Uryuu yells, standing suddenly and tossing his container to the table. It spews rice like fireworks on impact but he doesn't care. He points an accusatory finger at Kurosaki and lets himself rant. "What gives you the right to demand things from me? Making me tutor and feed you and even lending my clothes. It's not like I owe you! If anything, your sorry ass owes me for saving it so many times."

"Ishida…"

"Who asked you to pass judgment on me? It's my choice whether or not I want to be nice to anyone—and for your information I am nice to everyone but you, Kurosaki, because I can't stand you! How many times do I have to say it?" Winded from the force of so much emotion expelled at once, Uryuu takes quick breaths as he strides to his door and yanks it open. "Get out!"

Kurosaki's confused face instantly closes at the command. Dropping the box and utensils just as messily, Kurosaki stands and makes a beeline for what Uryuu hopes is the door. No luck. He slams the door shut and looms, effectively trapping Uryuu in the corner between the wall and the door. Not again, he mentally groans. It was bad enough mere hours ago when he was keeping Kurosaki from leaving. Now the boy is refusing to leave and the reversal is not appreciated.

"What is your problem with me, Ishida?" Voice level and expression moderately perturbed, Kurosaki's demeanor is too calm for how off-kilter he is throwing Uryuu. "Why do you always act like this any time we stop arguing for a change?"

Because the only time Uryuu forgets how much he wants Kurosaki is when they are fighting. When he is so enraged that whatever salacious thoughts he would otherwise be having are utterly eclipsed. He tries to slip past the boy but Kurosaki darts a hand out to bracket him in. Anger flares up and Uryuu grits his teeth as he speaks.

"How presumptuous."

"That's my line."

"What?"

"I'm not judging you, dumbass. Like anyone else I just prefer it when my friends don't act like jerks for no reason." Uryuu watches his brows dip into an intent V as Kurosaki gets riled up. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you, either. I offered to pay you back, didn't I? By helping with your projects or buying you a meal. I'm not looking for hand-outs here. But I don't see what's so hard about helping me with schoolwork this once."

"You're taking liberties—"

"I asked first, didn't I? I thanked you. What else do you want from me?"

"Nothing!" he shouts, at the end of his patience. "I want nothing from you, Kurosaki. Not your consideration, nor your gratitude, nor your fucking friendship. I never wanted anything like that to begin with!"

Reaching up to shove against his chest, Uryuu's fury ratchets up another level when Kurosaki resists. He snatches Uryuu's wrists and pins them against the wall. Which immediately reignites Uryuu's accursed flush. The periphery of his vision blurs and darkens.

"When are you going to quit pretending, Ishida? We've already been friends for nearly three years now. Just accept it!"

"Let go, Kurosaki," he warns in a dangerous tone.

"Or what?"

Uryuu snarls and shows him precisely what. Hooking a foot around the boy's leg, he pushes too fast for Kurosaki to counter. He goes down with a surprised grunt. And he takes Uryuu with him, still tenaciously clinging to his wrists. Somehow he didn't expect that. The breath gets knocked from them both, jumbled up on the floor with their too-long limbs, regardless of their natural grace. Kurosaki recovers first and uses the advantage to reverse their positions. He slings Uryuu sideways and plants steady knees to either side of his narrow hips. Then Kurosaki slams his arms to the carpet, fingers splaying out for balance, and leans down to glare at him despite heavier breaths.

Dizzy and disoriented beyond proper coherency, Uryuu blinks vacantly until his brain recovers. He's still angry, but that is now secondary to the stronger emotions created from their current predicament. He needs to get Kurosaki off him right this minute or—Wait, something is wrong here. Far from upset, Kurosaki appears almost shy. His eyes flit around Uryuu's face as he gives a cautious little frown.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your glasses…"

"What about them?"

"I think I knocked them off."

"So? Get off me, Kurosaki," he says as he thinks just kiss me already. It's not going to happen. "Go home."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Or what?" comes an insistent murmur.

Uryuu's eyes widen as he stares incredulously. Refusing to leave. Refusing to budge. What does he expect to happen? Does Kurosaki want an actual fist-fight? He doesn't think he can manage that just now. Kurosaki is tingling across his skin, warmth and reiatsu spilling generously from him. Though his obstinacy is infuriating, Uryuu can't help appreciating the solid weight of him pressing down. The strangely soft tone of his voice as he challenges him.

In spite of losing his glasses Uryuu can still see him clearly from this distance. The sharp orange lines of his brows accentuating rich brown irises. Angular jaw tapering to a strong chin. Long nose curving up just a tiny bit at the end. Kurosaki's wide mouth is cinched into a light pout but he can still picture it twisting at the corner, into the typical smirk of the mischievous brat he is. Too easily, Uryuu can picture it slackened in that loose state right before accepting a kiss. Slightly parted, faintly moist and flush with anticipatory blood flow.

All it takes is a flex of his neck and a calculated trajectory. Uryuu closes his eyes and rises into it. It is everything he imagined, with an added hint of sweet and savory from their dinner. A happy buzzing dulls his mind for six blissful seconds while swirls of energy dance around in his chest and zing down to his stomach. This shock of pleasure is what brings him back. Six seconds of Kurosaki being too astonished to react to Uryuu's unexpected kiss is all it takes to throw him into panic. Uryuu shoves the boy away from himself and scrambles to a stand.

Uryuu brings a shaky hand to hold to his mouth. He can't bring himself to look at Kurosaki, who he hears slowly rise after a moment. He manages a single, sharp word before stalking down the hall to his room and slamming the door.

"Leave."