Title: Whispered Poetry
Author: Merci
Pairing: Shunsui/Ukitake
Rating: G
Source: Bleach
Wordcount:378
Summary: Ukitake spends some time in the garden, enjoying his favourite gift from Shunsui.
Special Thanks: Xshelaghx for showing me her WIP so I could get inspired to write this.
Warnings: … none, I don't think. Hinted at yaoi between Shunsui/Ukitake. That's about it. (Strange for me, eh?)
Disclaimer: The characters found here *do not* belong to me. The story itself *does* belong to me. I am making no profit from this endeavour.
Notes: This is the art that inspired this little drabble (http://xshelaghx[dot]deviantart[dot]com/art/Ukitake-Jyuushiro-96542397)
Whispered Poetry
His eyes combed over the worn pages. The carefully scripted words carved in ink, splattered in places and smudged, but still legible. The collection of poems were familiar to his eyes and he let the words flow into him, his mind reciting the words as his eyes absorbed the feelings lightly scribed onto the page.
The book had been a gift from Shunsui. Jyuushirou had expected the easygoing captain to deliver flowers or sake or something a romantic would consider the perfect gift. Instead, the dark-haired shinigami with the roguish grin had simply handed him the weighty tome while trying to hide a wide, embarrassed grin. The white-haired captain remembered the moment, vivid in his memory. He fought back a smile as he recalled the way the darker man's eyes avoided his for a brief moment before the playful glint returned and he pulled him in close, laughing and quickly changing the subject.
The sounds of the garden washed over Ukitake's senses and he focused on the pages once more. His glasses perched lightly on the edge of his nose and he read the script again. His fingers traced over the edges of the book, knowing exactly which page held his favourite passages and the moments where he thought his heart would break from contentment.
The captain of the eighth division made no secret of his emotions. He was extroverted to the extreme, yet the carefully scripted prose that danced down the page showed Ukitake what Shunsui did not project. They emoted everything Ukitake knew Shunsui meant to tell him, and even the things he did not. He could feel the emotion behind the words, the symbolism that only he and Shunsui understood and appreciated. The words reminded him of their first, fumbling encounters at the academy, progressing further along their lives where they became comfortable and closer than physical touch could allow. Many entries were familiar events that were bright and vivid in Ukitake's mind, though, his favourite were passages of days he had forgotten. Days that Shunsui remembered for the minute details of something said or a caring look exchanged.
The downy-haired captain ran his fingers along the edges of the tome. The calm of the garden seeped into him, while Shunsui's words did the same.
Warnings: Slashy hints (you blink, you miss them)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or Mononoke, the Medicine Seller or Urahara. The story itself *does* belong to me. I am making no profit from this endeavour.