Disclaimer: I make no claim to ownership of Bleach beyond my manga, DVDs, and artbooks. No monetary profits are being made and no disrespect is intended. No characters were harmed in the making of this fic.

Characters/Pairing: Kensei, Shuuhei, short appearances by Rose, Shinji, Lisa, and Hiyori
Content: some language, het and slash, a small instance of violence
Summary: Wherein Kensei has a realization forced upon him. Sequel to An Awkward Understanding.
Word Count: 3446
Concrit: go for it, if you really feel the need.
Notes: This has been a lot longer in the making than I thought it would be, especially considering I never intended it to happen in the first place. However, RL bowled me over and made it take several months it shouldn't have. I think I'm done poking it with a pointy stick now, though. Enjoy?

P.S. This is really stupid. :D

THE EPIPHANY
(or, Ding Ding Ding! We Have a Winner!)

In the matter of a couple short weeks, summer set in strong and hot. While still dogged by the heat, it no longer left Kensei wishing he could melt into the pavement ― there was something to be said for acclimating. However, instead of the heat, he now found himself hounded at every turn by the rumors he'd until recently avoided acknowledging. They had taken an upward swing in popularity since Shuuhei had made the move to approach him about them. Of course, their continued meetings since probably hadn't helped matters, either.

Stupid Shuuhei, he thought, frowning a bit as he doused his sweaty silver-white hair under an outdoor faucet, sucking down a good mouthful, as well. It was located on the shady windward side of a neatly sterilized park lavatory, a godsend to ball players like himself on days like this.

"You're thinking bad thoughts about me," Shuuhei said, coming his way from the sun-scorched blacktop. He looked down on the bent over Kensei, a crooked grin cocked across his face. His hands wrapped loosely around either end of the white terrycloth towel slung around his neck, weight shifted to his right hip, Shuuhei looked the very picture of smartass. "You've got the look on your face," he added. "The one that you always get when you're thinking 'stupid Shuuhei.'"

Kensei huffed a laugh and turned off the water, dragging his hands through his wet hair before mussing it as artfully as he could manage without a mirror. "Do you let anyone else see you this cocky or am I just lucky?"

"If I were a real smartass-"

Arching a brow, Kensei favored him with a look of disbelief. "As opposed to a pretend smartass?"

"Shut up, asshole," Shuuhei shot back, his confidence in the presence of the one-time captain vibrant in his words. That combined with the continued smile made Kensei proud ― better mouthy friendship than the starry-eyed hero worship he'd once piled on Kensei. He hated the thought of having to beat it out of the boy.

"Fine, fine," Kensei said with a smirk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He waved a few fingers in Shuuhei's general direction before tucking them away. "Please continue."

Shuuhei heaved an irritated sigh and thrust a glare Kensei way. He stepped over to make use of the faucet himself, drenching his white towel and using it to wipe himself down, limb by limb. "I can't," he grouched. "The moment's dead. Way to go, moment killer."

Kensei watched with amusement as Shuuhei then moved on to dunking his head beneath the spray. The younger man cranked the water off once sufficiently soaked and flung his head back, leaving an arch of water droplets to fall in his wake. He followed it up by shaking his head like a large dog, turning the streak of water into a full sphere and giving Kensei a good dousing along the way. Wiping his face free of the dripping sprinkles, Kensei said, "An excellent impression of a Saint Bernard you've got there, Shuuhei."

"Not nearly so impressive as Renji's," Shuuhei replied, pushing his water-lank hair from his face. He hung his sopping towel around his shoulders and turned to look over the court they had abandoned. "I look more like a wiener dog compared to him."

"A wiener dog, huh?" Kensei followed Shuuhei's gaze, turning to watch the small contingent of grade school aged kids that had taken their place between the hoops, as well. "Of all breeds, I never would have pegged you for a dachshund. Maybe a shiba inu, but not a runty little yipper."

Shuuhei barked out a short laugh and shook his head. He walked to a nearby bench, the wood slats worn free of paint and bleached grey by years left to fend for themselves under the weather. He nudged a toe against the blackened cast iron leg before flopping down to sit in an ungainly sprawl on the aged wood. He gave Kensei a quiet and considering look. It couldn't have been more obvious that a probing question lingered on the tip of his tongue.

"What?" Kensei asked preemptively, hands taking up residence on his hips as he returned his gaze to the kids on the blacktop. They were currently running after a dropped ball like a pack of excitable puppies. The ball looked like the one he and Shuuhei had been using, but it didn't particularly matter whether they got it back or not. They'd filched it from Urahara's shop in the first place, so its loss would likely land on Abarai's head. Again. He wondered how long it would take the big redhead to figure out who was behind his current Urahara-induced woes. Having a small idea of what a lunkhead Abarai could be, Kensei decided he probably had a good long time.

Shuuhei was eyeing at him, he could sense it in the air without bothering to look himself. No doubt, judging from the heavy portents wafting his way, they were about to embark on a discussion of epic personal proportions. He wasn't sure he wanted to go that way, but if the kid was set on it, Kensei knew he didn't have much choice. Avoidance hadn't worked last time, either, after all.

Taking a hint from Shuuhei, he gave his towel a soaking under the faucet and draped it loose over his shoulders. Wiping one end over his face, Kensei took up a seat on the bench beside Shuuhei. He gave a quick sniff, making a face when he got a heavy whiff of man sweat — there was a shower waiting in his very near future. A comfortable distance sat between him and Shuuhei, closer than it had been before they'd cleared the truth of rumors between them, but not more than would be deemed necessary by friendship. "All right, kid," he said, sighing as he flopped back against the wooden bench slats, "spill it."

"Spill what?" Shuuhei asked, hedging around the subject. It was playful, though, rather than unsure of opening the field to talk. This was a big difference from the last time.

Kensei snorted and stretched his arm across the top of the bench back, thumping Shuuhei's shoulder with a lightly closed fist. "Don't give me that shit, Shuuhei," he said, watching the group of youngsters on the ballcourt run and tumble through their game. "You know what I'm talking about."

Leaning forward, his elbows propped on his bony as ever knees, Shuuhei shot Kensei a smirk through the tired flop of his damp hair. He wove the fingers of his hands together in a loose clasp. "I was just thinking. You know that advice you gave me?"

"Shit," Kensei laughed. "You finally take it to heart?"

In response, Shuuhei's smirk traveled from a touch of smug to something a bit closer to schoolboy crush. "Yeah."

"And?" It was Kensei turn to smirk and he took to it with relish.

"And what?" Shuuhei returned to the role of smartassed kid. He was quite pleased with himself, too, if the widening grin scrunching up his face said anything. Kensei turned his hand and gave the kid a swift whack to the back of the head, as any responsible adult would react to such cheek from a youngster.

"Come on, Shuuhei," Kensei said, chastising. The younger man dragged his hands through his disheveled hair, scowling at him. The corners of Kensei's mouth drew up higher into a smug grin. "You know better than to get uppity with your elders."

A loud scoff escaped Shuuhei as the young lieutenant zeroed a look down the length of his shoulder at Kensei filled with narrow eyes and threats of amusing bodily harm. "That's not getting uppity, old man," Shuuhei told him. "It's called drawing out the suspense! You can't just say something right out when there's a chance to tug someone along for a while. It's an art, you know."

"You sound like Rose," Kensei said with a snort, giving Shuuhei another whack. He shook his head in amusement as Shuuhei's fingers flew through his disarrayed hair a second time.

"Dammit, Kensei," he muttered under his breath. Kensei didn't let it bother him — it took more than that to put him off.

"Shuuhei," he began, kicking his feet forward and crossing his legs at the ankle, "there's a time to be a smartass and there's a time to realize the man you're talking to can kick your ass in a fight, weaponless and with both hands tied behind his back."

A hearty bout of laughter greeted the words. Seeing no other option, Kensei whacked him a third time, doubling the strength he put into the previous blow. An audible clack of teeth coming together reached his ears as Shuuhei's mouth snapped shut on a grunt of pain. His hands this time forewent fixing his hair in favor of rubbing gingerly at what was sure to be a darkening red print the size and shape of Kensei's large palm beneath the dark mop. Shuuhei turned a furrowed scowl on him. "What the hell-?"

"What did I just say, kid?" Kensei asked by way of reply, running roughshod over him. He sniffed in a bored manner and idly gazed on the nails of his other hand, keeping the right stationed menacingly behind Shuuhei's head in unspoken warning. No further smart comments were garnered, Shuuhei choosing instead to continue rubbing at his growing lump. "Good boy. Now, again, spill."

"Good boy? Didn't know you were into that," Shuuhei teased, ducking preemptively out of the way when Kensei threatened another smack to the back of his head. His demeanor brightened further as his thoughts shifted gears. A grin spanned his angular face again and his dark eyes shone with glee. "I caught her after a Lieutenant's meeting, right?"

Kensei nodded, lifting his brows encouragingly. When glee spiraled into dreamy sparkles and pinking cheeks, he knew they'd finally gotten to the meat of the subject... and the news was obviously good.

"I pulled her aside," Shuuhei said, not the smallest hesitation in his voice, "and nutted up, just like you told me to." He paused long enough to loose a short, but warm laugh, his gaze focused out over the basketball court where the kids played a rough and tumble game. "I asked her out... and she gave me that crinkled up confused look she gets." Shuuhei spared Kensei a brief glance as he leaned forward, letting his hands dangle between his widespread knees. His mouth took a downward turn into a thoughtful frown. "Would you believe she asked me if I'd broken up with you first? Said she didn't want to break up the happy couple."

The words stilled the small swaying of Kensei's feet as he digested their meaning. "What?"

Shuuhei's grin returned like a fox slinking into the hen house. "The happy couple, Kensei," he repeated. "The only reason she didn't jump on me the moment she noticed the looks I was giving her was those shit-assed rumors."

The gears in Kensei's brain made a slow start, but quickly cranked their way into an understanding that he knew he probably should have figured out months previous. On his own, even, well before Shuuhei approached him. "So..."

"Yeah," Shuuhei agreed, giving a slow nod. "Turns out, sensei," he said the word in a mocking tone, "the teacher may want to take a little of his own advice. Maybe even take a page out of his student's book while he's at it."

Kensei slumped a little as he ran the possibilities through his head, drawing his legs back to waggle his knees out wide, his soles planted firmly on the blacktop. His hand dropped away from its readied position behind Shuuhei's head. He idly worked his jaw from side to side, just breathing as he considered this new information. A couple of minutes passed in their entirety before he sucked in a quick breath and turned a sharp look on Shuuhei.

"This was fun, kid," he announced. "We should do this again sometime."

"Yeah, we should," Shuuhei agreed, the words a warble of barely suppressed amusement. He wisely kept his own gaze turned down on his shoes. "You should probably get going now, though, right?"

With little more than a soft grunt of acknowledgment, Kensei shoved to his feet. He whipped the towel off his shoulders and flung it at Shuuhei. Only a swift hand on Shuuhei's part keeping it from hitting the younger man in the face. "Take care of that for me, will you?"

Shuuhei snorted and shook his head a little, but draped the towel across his shoulders with his own towel. "Whatever, old man."

Throwing a narrow-eyed pseudo-glare down on the dark-haired lieutenant, Kensei wagged a quick finger at him. "If I didn't have to get out of here, I'd make you regret that," he said with an affected growl. Then, he paused, shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot as his mind waffled over how to say what he wanted. Finally, realizing how much time he was wasting, Kensei just went with a quick and slightly out of character, "Hey, uh... thanks, kid."

Tossing Shuuhei a nod and flashing him a thumbs up, Kensei took off at a sprint. He had things to do. He ignored the laughter that followed him away from the bench, the sound slowly fading with distance.

END

.

(extra stupid)

A couple hours later...

"So...," Rose said, drawing the sound out perhaps a bit longer than necessary. Not that Kensei cared — watching those lips wrap around the O gave him plenty of fantasy fuel. The blond Vizard tapped his long, narrow fingers across the table in front of him. His eyes of a color oddly similar to periwinkle were half-hidden under heavy lids and shifted far to one side — a sure sign that his sharp mind was working. "You're telling me that every single one of those rumors is false?"

"Absolutely," Kensei replied, his own hands wrapped firmly around a tall glass long emptied of iced water. He leaned forward a bit, elbows shifted outward a little more along the length of the table that sat between him and Rose. "The kid would tell you the same thing, if you asked him."

Rose's head tilted slightly away, shifting the wavy fall of golden hair off his shoulder. "And should I?"

Watching Rose's nimble fingers pick up a stray book of matches, Kensei licked his lips as those slender digits eased open the cover and played lightly over the cardboard bodied sticks inside. He lifted his gaze to meet the solid look Rose had finally leveled on him. "Ask him, you mean?"

His only answer was a neatly curved brow quirking slightly higher than it normally sat. Kensei smirked and reached behind him, pulling his cell phone from his black leather belt holster, making certain to flex his biceps along the way. Rose's eyes shifted to watch the display, much to Kensei's delight. He slid the folded device across the table, resting it a few inches from Rose's busy hand.

"Go for it. He shouldn't be busy with Lieutenant Matsumoto just yet," Kensei explained, urging him on with a small nod. His smirk deepened with rising smugness as Rose dropped the open matchbook and cautiously lifted the offered phone.

"What's the code for calls to Soul Society, again?"

.

(yet more stupid)

Even later that night...

"What do you mean they aren't here?" Hirako Shinji demanded of the two one time lieutenants in the main room of the warehouse with him. "They're always here! Especially at this time of night."

This time of night was well past midnight and the lanky Vizard leader twitched with something that might or might not have been concern. The warehouse was minus two of its inhabitants at an hour that normally saw all of them asleep in their beds... or at least busy annoying the everliving stuffing out of one another over whatever idiotic thing they could find to argue about.

"Well, obviously, they're not here tonight," Lisa grumbled from behind her newest skin mag. "Now would you mind shutting up and finding something else to do?"

"Yeah, dipshit," Hiyori added, busy a game on a handheld device, judging from the beeps and warbles it emitted. "Listen to some good advice when you get it for once."

Shinji groaned and bared his arrow straight teeth in an exaggerated grimace. He clutched at the air around his face with upturned and grasping hands. "But this is impor-"

A sandal to the face ended the protest before it had a real chance to begin.

"I hate you all," Shinji groused, refraining from rubbing the red imprint he knew from experience had been left across his mug. He stalked toward a row of hooks bolted in a line beside the normal-sized door they used as their primary entrance and egress, tugging down a tan duster. Pulling the long coat on, he readjusted the upset sit of his golf cap and reached for the door handle-

Only to have it click open and the door push inward, moving painfully over toes of one foot. Shinji yelped and jumped back, praising the heavens that the canvas of his cheap knockoffs hadn't given out and left him bare skinned against the heavy scrape of swinging sheet metal.

"What the fu-!" He broke off halfway through the profanity as his eyes finally focused on the offending party on the other side of the door. Somewhere between the urge to slap some sense into them or spouting some words of praise that would border on harassment, Shinji took in the sight of the two missing members of their troupe. Rose was pressed against the open hinges of the door with Kensei leaned in firm along his front, face buried in the curve of his neck. "...ck. Okay, what did I miss? Where's that Hisagi kid? Is this a ménage à trois in the offing?"

Shinji didn't even have to look to know that Lisa's girly magazine was no longer in front of her face. No doubt she was eyeing him with look capable of vivisection. Unfortunately, because he didn't turn, he was forced instead to take a tightly wound fist to his already bruised nose. He clapped his hands over the beaten feature with a shocked cry, feeling the stream of warm liquid already dripping from his pointy chin as he stumbled away from the door.

"Fuck off, Hirako," Kensei grumbled, moving away from Rose long enough scoop the tall blond over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Kensei, is this really necessary?" Rose asked from his folded position, though he didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. His golden hair fell about his face like a thick, gentle wafting of down — it was sickening, really, as far as Shinji was concerned. His hair didn't do things like that. He briefly considered using it to sop up the blood, but wisely figured Kensei wouldn't take well to him bloodying up Rose's hair.

"Yes, it is," Kensei told his cargo, laying a heavy hand across the narrow rump currently situated perfectly within biting distance. The aggressive Vizard turned his attention back to Shinji, gleaming amber eyes making an including sweep across the others, as well. "And the rest of you will stay out of my room until further notice if you know what's good for you."

Wiping at his throbbing face delicately with the length of his duster, Shinji watched in annoyed confusion as Kensei turned for the stairs. With an extra heft and a low chuckle rising from Rose, the pair disappeared from view. Moments later, a door shut hard, echoing down into the wide open area the group used as a main room.

"There. The kids are home. You can stop worrying now, Shinji," Lisa said, returning to her perusal of glossy pages full of naughty bits.

Shinji scowled and yanked off his duster. He placed it back on the hook he'd taken it from with perhaps a bit more force than was absolutely required and with little care for the blood that now dirtied it near the hem. "I wasn't worried. They're big boys. They can take care of themselves. And if they can't, they deserve whatever happens to 'em."

"Uh huh," Hiyori replied with a sneer, hopping up on the arm of the couch and swinging her legs a little. Her remaining sandal dangled dangerously from her left foot. "You keep tellin' yourself that."

Shinji sighed and decided it wasn't worth taking another shot to the face.