Dynamics.
Sort of a companion piece to 'Fun' - They were polar opposites, so how exactly did they get along? Well, they didn't. Lime.
This fiction is dedicated wholly to BonneNuit, with special credit for the Title.
Here is the fictio that you wanted - she hopes that you enjoy it.
As usual, this is unedited and unBETAed - unless said otherwise.
Ichigo was drinking tea from a delicate china tea cup, patterned with small blue flowers around the rim. They were from Holland - very foriegn - and they were Urahara's favourite.
The tea that Ichigo was drinking was also foriegn, but not from Holland, and he wasn't drinking it so much as slurping it, and Urahara was wincing, because it was an awful sound.
Quite put out that Kurosaki Ichigo was currently slurping his foriegn (And expensive) tea as if it were swill, Urahara thought that he should mention the way that he was feeling, because the key point to any relationship - even their kind - was communication.
Unfortunately, Ichigo had learnt his manners from the depths of a small farm ruled by pigs, and obviously knew nothing about the rules of a relationship, because Urahara Kisuke, the owner of the shop that they were currently residing in the back of, got snorted at.
And as if that weren't already an insult to his dignity (He had a lot of it), he was then informed that his very expensive and foriegn tea tasted like swill. And then the adolescent slurped it again, as if to prove his point.
At this point, Urahara considered all of his hard work gone for naught, and addressed the ceiling rather morosely and asked it why he had ever bothered in the first place. The ceiling of course, didn't answer, so he continued to fan himself.
Ichigo did though. "Bother with what?" He demanded, in a rather snappy way, and the blonde man's rather wide grin was hidden very effectively beneath a shield of white. Oh, this was going to be quite fun!
And he informed Ichigo with ill concealed delight that attempting to share anything remotely cultural with him was likened to attempting to teach a dog to play the piano; that is it was pointless to attempt to broaden his horizons, when it was obvious that he was much too common for such niceties.
And then he counted down from three. It always took Ichigo exactly three seconds to turn pink, and then to go a rather exciting bright red, before he began to yell loudly enough to ruffle the wisps of blonde hair that stuck out from the Shopkeeper's fine hat.
"Bastard! Your dumb tea tastes like shit anyway - if you had've tried it instead of ogling me then you would have said the same thing!"
An then it was Urahara's turn to huff and posture, because even though he had been ogling the teenager and hadn't had a sip of his tea yet didn't mean that it wasn't good tea, in fact his tea was perfectly wonderful (It should be at the price he paid for it) he told the teenager rather snobbily, and he decided to prove it by taking a very large mouthful.
The taste that assaulted his tongue was not unlike cabbage: cabbage that had been sitting in the sun for a number of months, and then been dunked in the water that sits at the bottom of public trash disposals for good measure. His eyes widened, and widened some more, and he made a half strangled choking noise, and Ichigo smirked in a rather superiour manner that was quite irksome.
But alas, Pride is a bitch, and a vindictive one at that, so She forced the purchaser of said swill to swallow the mouthful that he had unwittingly taken, and then brutalised him into making a response that would not compromise Her.
"The tea itself is perfectly fine!" Oh yes, Urahara would defend Pride with his last breath. "The problem must be with the brewing." And with that, he called the name of his most valued helper; ignoring the adolescent's disbelieving snort with a dignified air.
The speed in which the Big Man threw open the door and hunched in a manner that was both respectful and mildly terrifying was much too soon to indicate that he had been anywhere in the building but right outside the door, perhaps with his ear pressed to it - but of that last part they couldn't be sure.
...They swore they heard scurrying feet as well and the glance of one sneakered foot, but it was gone so quickly that it also might have been a part of the imagination.
Of course Urahara was amused, because Urahara was always amused at something or other and the fact that his helper (Or helpers) was spying on his good self (Whether for blackmail material or something entirely more worrisome, he could not be sure) was an amusing thought, so he merely poked at the small pot as if it were volatile, and enlightened his assistant to the fact that they needed more tea.
Obviously this displeased the hulking manservant, because he made that deep rumbly noise, and then his glasses glinted in the way that they did when he was either disapproving of something or was about to forcefeed somebody something that would have a horrible effect on their bowels, and the blonde shuddered.
Urahara had since banned Tessai from giving anyone his 'remedies', but one never knew.
But, with his voyeuristic tendencies having been uncovered, he could do nothing but retrieve the awful brew, and go to salvage both the expensive leaves and his employer's pride.
When he left, Kurosaki Ichigo scowled a little deeper than he usually did, "I wish he'd stop doin' that," He muttered, and the blonde gave him a side-along glance. "Sitting outside the door. It's creepy."
Of course, this left him open for some good old fashioned needling, which the blonde Shopkeeper happened to be quite fond of, (And quite good at, if he said so himself - which he did) and so the leer that the adolescent was subjected caused one Don Juan to writhe in a fit of jealousy, and he wondered slyly if Ichigo's discomfort was perhaps because of his concern that the large man could hear something compromising.
His tone indicated exactly what kind of compromising thing his servant would hear, and Ichigo rather promptly coloured, which earnt him a snigger.
Really, Ichigo was such a prude, it was too hilarious.
But before it could be taken any further into the realm of a verbal spar...or something else, a disgruntled Tessai reentered the room with a freshly brewed pot of tea, and presented it to them. After he had left, and it had cooled, the blonde bravely took another sip, and promptly went three shades of green.
The second pot was deemed undrinkable, and Tessai was called back into the room, both to request more tea, and to be scolded about his failure as a master tea brewer.
This process was repeated twice, until Tessai informed them that he was retiring for the evening, and if Mr. Urahara wished for more tea, he will have to boil it himself. Mr. Urahara sighed morosely then, and said that good help was impossible to find these days.
His assistant considered himself above a retort; he merely left the room, while Ichigo glared at whatever happened to be in his line of sight, because that was what Ichigo did.
While he was distracted, informing the resident decor that it somehow deeply offended him, the Shopkeeper took it upon himself to surreptitiously sneak around the table to the redhead. Unfortunately the redhead noticed this before he got half way, and the blonde bore the brunt of his displeasure.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded suspiciously, his dark eyes narrow, and the look he recieved in return was perfectly nonplussed.
"Why," Urahara said innocently, "How would I be able to touch you if you are all the way over therem and I was all the way over here?"
Ichigo was not impressed with this explanation, and Urahara was told that the only reason that he desired to 'molest' the teen was to prevent him from gloating about the vile, but expensive drink.
Urahara dismissed the comment with a wave of his slender hand, and merely said that Tessai could not brew a nice tea to save his life (Which was blatantly untrue, but Ichigo didn't know that), and told him off for attempting to change the subject, when there was a much more important matter to attend to.
The look he recieved from dark eyes was both curious and suspicious, but eventually the teen's curiosity overwhelmed his suspicion, and he asked what was this important matter, to which Urahara's smile turned wicked.
"I believe the way that you put it," He murmured, his voice husky, "Was molesting you."
"You are a sleaze," He was informed, but apparently it was an endearing quality, for when he slunk his feline way over to the redhead, he was allowed to place his fingers on a ruddy chest and slide them up to a neck, to tilt a firm mouth into a gentle kiss.
The mouth beneath his opened in erotic surrender; heady in its rarity, and the blonde slid his tongue into a mouth still slightly awkward with inexperience. The mouth was hot, welcoming, and still had a faint aftertaste of cabbage, but Urahara didn't mind.
A tongue came to meet his, unsure at first, as it always was, but as the teen's desire heightened, so did his confidence. Calloused fingers gnarled in blonde hair, pulling off a beloved hat and throwing it over a broad shoulder carelessly.
The owner of the said hat made a small distressed sound, before a chuckling mouth distracted him, enveloping his, slanting beneath it in a passion that was almost drugging.
...Of course, he did attempt to reach for the hat at some point: subtly of course.
However, the teen pressed beneath him had a crazy sense of intuition, for as the blonde man reached for his favourite accessory, he was growled at and his (Subtly) reaching hand was snatched, to be placed against a rather interested crotch.
Not being one to be outdone, he caressed the hard on that he had been presented with, and broke the frantic clash of lips to trail to a sensitive ear in which to nibble, lick and of course murmur all sorts of filthily erotic things.
The adolescent beneath him moaned, a deep husky sound that dove straight towards Urahara's abdomen, the hands clutching wretchedly while his hips arched desperately.
"Please," He groaned, and his blonde lover strove to give him what he begged for, sliding deft fingers beneath loose jeans and palming the hot flesh, capturing lips in a fiery kiss that was as much teeth as it was tongue and saliva and movement, and it was sexy and Urahara was ablaze with his desire for the boy so wantonly grinding against his hand.
And then fingers uncertainly made their way from his back down to his side, and rested on a hip, as if wavering in indecision, and it took all of the elder man's self control not to grab it and shove it down the front of his pants, because that was definitely what he wanted.
Fortunately, that crazy sense of intuition came into play again, because Ichigo's hand did indeed do just that, and Urahara was absolutely over the moon, because it was about time that the teen started reciprocating! In fact, he was so overjoyed that he travelled back to an ear and laved it with affection, which unfortunately made the hand on his cock slow down while the young man's distraction grew.
Of course, this displeased Urahara to no end, and so he decided to let Ichigo know this (Ror all good relationships start with communication) by moving his hip into the warm palm and making a sound that was not a whimper, because Urahara was a man, and men didn't whimper. Ichigo whimpered; but he wasn't really a man, because he was still a teenager, and Urahara should probably feel bad for seducing a teen, but just didn't really want to.
After all, the redhead was lots of fun, even when he wasn't like this.
And when he was like this, well, it was more than fun.
Especially seeming as that hand had started moving again - a little fast and rough, but the blonde was just so relieved to be being touched after so long that he couldn't care less. He made another sound that was too manly to be a whimper, and tightened his own fist.
The teen was quite vocal; even more so when he was nearing orgasm. His whimpers turned to cries and half uttered curses against the curve of the Shopkeeper's shoulder before he stiffened, and Urahara's hand became slick and wet.
Urahara wondered how long it would take for the teen to notice if he wiped it on his jeans, but before he could continue that line of thought the hand, which had stopped, started again, and it was strong and warm and this time it wasn't too fast or rough, and the coarse hand was just perfect, and it felt too good. It wasn't long before he groaned - loudly - and he spilled himself.
Stretching himself alongside the hard body beside his, he directed a soft post coital grin, which was much different to his sly grin, or his I-just-said-something-outrageous-haha-aren't-I-adorable grin, and this one, instead of resulting in some form of physical punishment, instigated a small smirk in return.
Now that they both were spent, it was the time for snuggling.
Of course, because they were men, and not women or children, it wasn't really snuggling. Well, it was, but neither of them would ever admit that they enjoyed tucking up to each other after each (Or only Ichigo) has orgasmed, and the evidence of the coupling had been subtly wiped upon the respective parties clothing to be grimaced at afterwards.
"I should be right more often," The redhead murmured contently. "The sex is better."
And Urahara, for once, said nothing sly or sleazy; he merely asked whether or not Ichigo was going to stay for the night.
He was.