This is one of the first fics I ever wrote, so I'm rather fond of it, despite its problems. There are two more parts after this, that I'll be posting slowly but surely. :)

I'd love reviews and concrit, lemme know what you think!

Laundry

He focused only on the stiff, rough feeling of the cloth as it slid against his fingers. The breeze was gentle on his face, and he briefly closed his eyes to let it caress him. His hands moved automatically as he folded the jeans and placed them in the laundry basket, noting absently as he did so that he needed more fabric softener. He watched, almost from a distance, as his hands reached back up to unpin a shirt from the line. The soft flapping of the fabric soothed him, let him forget, for a second, what had just occurred and the presence waiting at his back, waiting for him to return to reality and deal with what had just been unleashed.

*****

Renji couldn't help noticing both the falseness of Ichigo's smile as he turned away from the clothes line, a shirt fluttering in his hands, and its very realness. In anyone else, such a smile could have been called genuine, but on Kurosaki Ichigo, it shrieked of discomfort. Ichigo did not smile. Perhaps he smirked, or even grinned, but Renji had never seen what most would call an actual smile on the man's face in all the long years of their friendship. His heartbeat thundering in his ears and tension restricting the usually easy movements of his body, he could still perceive the forcedness of Ichigo's laughter.

"Very funny, Renji," Ichigo said a little too loudly, again laughing that artificial laugh. "You're being more straightforward than usual. I expect more out of your jokes, now. A good, long set up, and then an unexpected finale, that's what I'm used to. I mean, geez, you could've snuck around for awhile behind my back and gotten me good, especially since you knew I wasn't expecting you to come to the living world until next week. You're losing your touch, Abari."

"I'm not joking," Renji shot back angrily, a touch of uncertainty creeping into his face, pulling down his elaborately tattooed brows. "I wouldn't joke about this." He took another step forward on the balcony. "Knowin' me as long as ya have, you know when I'm being serious. And I don't think I have to tell ya that I'm being completely serious when I say that I love you."

*****

Shock froze his body even as he worked furiously to remain normal, to give nothing away to the man in front of him. The man who he had loved, for years. Ichigo's chest ached, and his tongue worked in his throat, but he could not form the words. He thought he was choking. His fingers clenched around the still-unfolded t-shirt.

He had seen Renji around Rukia for too long not to understand what it meant. Not to notice the way he watched her at all times. He couldn't win against that kind of devotion, he had no chance. Usually Ichigo won his battles, and oftentimes through the sheer force of his will, the force of his own belief. He would not let himself consider the possibility that he would lose, and then it seemed he never did. But not in this case.

For too long he had thought of this moment, idly and intensely, both toying with it and analyzing it. Years had passed, and he had given up, quietly, without ever declaring himself. "How unlike you," he knew the others would say. And it was unlike him, not even trying. But the danger was so great in this instance, far too great for him to risk on a mere dream. Love was far out of reach, but friendship, companionship, that was already his. Why would he risk losing the one thing which consoled him for the tiny possibility of that which tormented him?

His mind was racing, and yet, at the same time, completely empty. The part of himself calmly removed from what was happening noted the strangeness of Kurosaki Ichigo being unable to take action. Ichigo stayed frozen by his laundry basket, his shirt clutched in his hands like a lifeline thrown to someone drowning, staring at the man he loved.

*****

Renji saw the sudden change in Ichigo's stance, the immobility which seemed to strike him at his words, even through his own unease. He had been so certain, had thought he had seen the signs, had thought he would be reciprocated. The falseness Ichigo had replied with had been both a slap and a favor, an offer to forget what was happening on the tiny balcony of his apartment and attempt to return to the relationship they had both seemed satisfied with for so many years. But that was impossible now. Renji suddenly saw the implications of rejection in that moment of quiet, the change and loss it would cause.

And then he saw the fear in Ichigo's deep brown eyes, something he so rarely saw there he had trouble comprehending what it was he was glimpsing, and at last, he understood. Relief flooded him, and the uncertainty which had been growing by the moment fled in the face of it.

He took a final step forward, his abdomen brushing the tips of Ichigo's fingers where they were held awkwardly in front of his body. He leaned down, casually, resting his forehead against Ichigo's own, noting that Ichigo did nothing to avoid the touch. "Ya know," he said, conversationally, "I've known Rukia for a very, very long time. A lotta shinigami've got certain ideas about us, and who could blame 'em? I've got history with her that can't compare to anything else. She's all that's left of the only family I've ever had, and when I had a chance ta be close to her again, I grabbed it and didn't let go. I looked out for her, even though I knew it'd piss her off. I wanted to keep that family safe, however much things had changed between us."

Renji brought the hands which had been attempting to rest casually in his pockets up to the sides of Ichigo's face and gently let them curve around his cheeks, bringing Ichigo's face and eyes up to meet his own. "I may have been keeping watch over her all this time, paying more obvious attention to 'er, but the one I've been fallin' for is you, ya jackass." He moved forward slowly as he spoke, and almost whispered the last few words into Ichigo's lips, before slowly, deliberately, brushing his own against the man before him.

*****

Ichigo's heart ached, and he could not have said if it was sadness or joy which caused the spasm as the words fell so easily from Renji's lips, the words he'd wanted so badly to hear, and had been to afraid to say himself. As Renji's lips touched his own, sensation and intelligence returned to him in a rush, and he was suddenly aware of the t-shirt he still held, one of his favorites, and so well-worn it was smooth in his sweaty hands despite the lack of fabric softener. It dropped carelessly to the floor, as in a rush, with an eagerness and longing born of years of disappointment, Ichigo deepened what had been a chaste kiss.

Renji was the one who finally pulled back, panting. He could not help the cocky smile which spread across his face. "I take it that you ain't too opposed to the idea of us together, eh?"

Ichigo's characteristic scowl was softened by the pink which graced his cheeks, as he turned and stared up into the cloudless sky. "Never was. Just too scared to grab for it." The blush faded as he spoke, turning back to look Renji clearly in the eye. "Too worried about what I'd lose if I failed. And about how we'd change, how our relationships with everybody else would change." Rukia's presence haunted these words, unspoken but there.

Renji became serious then. "Rukia ain't going anywhere because of this, and neither is anybody else. Besides," he said with another smile, this one softer and filled with warmth, "your friends have stuck with you through weirder shit than this."

Ichigo thought about it, and had to agree.