Previously posted as part of a Multifandom Drabble Collection.
Requester: sunaneko
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Renji & Tatsuki
Word/Situation: They are sneaking around or doing something dangerous.
Mood/Theme: Adrenaline
Approximate Timeline: When the shinigami are on the living plane/realm..
Other: CoverArt by bleachobsessed16 on DeviantArt
Title: Caught
Author: Winter Ashby (rosweldrmr)
Disclaimer: Bleach © Kubo Tite
Rating: K
Word Count: 500 - exactly!
Summary: She tasted vaguely of something sweet, on the cusp of childhood and rebellion. (Renji & Tatsuki)
Authors Notes: This was really hard to write. This is the third version I wrote of this, and I still think the characterizations are all wrong.
She tasted vaguely of something sweet, like cusping on childhood and rebellion. Her hands traced his tattoos, trembling. He still couldn't get used to her trepidation. For all the rest of the world she was a clattering of fists and kicks, a champion, fierce and proud.
She was still, but with him it was veiled behind a feminine mask of first kisses and propriety. He liked that she was surprised to find she liked his hair and skin, arms and hakama.
"Nice badge." She said the first time she confronted him. His gigai safely back at Urahara's shop, his uniform heavy on his shoulders under her scrutiny.
"You can see me?"
She smiled at him, deep and knowing. "I've always been able to see your true form." Her hands framed her hips and her eyes a brimming with smug satisfaction.
He was caught, and he knew it.
"What are you?" he asked her, a chill tearing down his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach. Ichigo wouldn't be happy.
"That's my question, shinigami." She purred it, like it was an endearment.
His fists clenched. Humiliation at being caught by a human girl, he should have been more careful around her. He sighed and turned to leave. He'd have to report his failure. He'd have to tell Ichigo, she was one of his, after all.
"I have a proposition for you, death god."
He turned and eyed her skeptically. "What?"
"Train me. My spiritual powers are wasted at a dojo." He watched the sinew of her muscles slide under her skin as she moved towards him. "And in return, I won't tell anyone about you."
"I could say the same. Ichigo would want to know." She very nearly blinked at the name, but nothing more, no indication that she cared or feared this action.
"Do what you like. He's not my father." He couldn't see it, but he could sense the anger. She was mad at Ichigo, maybe he already knew. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to beat her back and down until she learned what it was like to really train for combat, life on the line, sweaty and exhausted. "Besides," she went on, flippant and superior, "this is between you and me."
"And what makes you think I'd agree?"
"Because," she cooed as she stopped a foot away, "You're curious." She, of course, was right. He was.
"It's dangerous."
She laughed at this, a shrill bark with no humor in it.
He trained her, as unwise as it was, and they fought.
Him reserved, and her wild and unapologetic as her powers grew more pronounced. Eventually, he had to stop holding back. And eventually, he kissed her. Because she was strong and stubborn, because part of him knew she'd let him, but mostly because when she spoke about fighting, she reminded him of what it cost him to get this far.
And now, it's just as much training as it has become sneaking around.