Byakuya frowned at his hands in the mirror, watching as his fingers struggled with the silk tie under the stiff collar buttoned around his neck. He had practiced this a dozen times in Seireitei, yet he still could not seem to get the hang of it. Failure was never an option with him, however, and so he kept trying, his frustrated efforts producing nothing save a vaguely lumpy knot around his neck and the beginnings of a headache just over the bridge of his nose.
He glanced over his shoulder through the mirror and frowned. It didn't help that his fukutaichou was currently jumping up and down on the hotel bed like a five-year-old child.
"WoooohooHOOOO!!!" The mattress threatened to break, springs clanking together with each impact from the gigai's heavy feet. "Come on, Taichou!! You should try it!!!" He arched his head back and crowed again, the sound no doubt traveling through the thin walls into the next room over.
Byakuya ignored him and returned to the impossible task at hand. This, of course, was not his first expedition into the mortal realm, though in the past he had naturally always had assistance in assembling his wardrobe. But it had been some time since he had last visited, and as he had lately begun to feel the influence of living in close proximity to a certain redheaded shinigami, he now felt the growing urge to actually do things on his own. Perhaps Renji had been out of line when he'd teased his taichou about hiring a maid to wipe his ass for him, but the point had been made—perhaps in more ways than one, as that same redheaded shinigami had also spent a week on the couch before being invited back onto his taichou's futon.
Enough was enough, however. Eventually, he simply dropped his hands and stared down at the tie around his neck with expressionless malice.
The clanking of the mattress springs urged the pain between his eyebrows on to newer and greater heights. "What're you so nervous about, anyway?" Bounce, bounce, bounce. "It's just Ichigo's family."
He frowned again. A fleeting thought crossed his mind as he focused once again on his own reflection, studying the suit he was wearing. Could it be worn without the tie? No. Questions would be asked; he would be forced to admit the truth. Unacceptable.
Bounce, bounce, bounce—THUD. Renji's footsteps were surprisingly soft against the carpet, not the usual heavy thump, thump, thump his feet made against the floors at home.
"I thought you practiced this back home."
Byakuya watched through the mirror as his fukutaichou walked up behind him. "I did."
"Here, lemme do it." His expression did not change as the younger shinigami slipped his arms around him and started fiddling with the tie.
"I don't need your help," he said, but he made no move to stop Renji, whose fingers proceeded to deftly knot the tie before carefully pushing it up under the collar.
"That too snug?"
Byakuya stared at him through the mirror. "You're not dressed." He was still in just his t-shirt and boxers. It was admittedly not an entirely unappealing look for him. It was, however, highly inappropriate for an engagement dinner.
Renji just shrugged. "No hurry. Thought I'd take a shower."
"There isn't time."
The strong, bare arms lowered a little, encircling his chest now, holding him close. "There ain't nuthin to be worried about, Taichou. Trust me." The younger shinigami lowered his head to press a few kisses against Byakuya's neck after first nuzzling aside a few strands of dark hair.
"I'm not worried."
"You're stiff as a fuckin' board." The kisses teased his skin, nipping playfully at his flesh, arms hugging him tighter.
A slight frown tugged down at the corner of his mouth now. "I'm not worried," he repeated. "Renji, we don't have time for this."
Renji lifted his head to grin back at him through the mirror, the expression bordering on lecherous. "Aww, come on. You always say that." His grin widened as he hugged Byakuya even more tightly against his chest and started to move his hips, thrusting playfully forward, moving his captain's body slowly against his own.
Byakuya just stared at him, his face impassive.
Renji swore and finally released him. "Geez. Okay, fine, I get it." He made a face and turned for the bathroom, reaching up as he went to tug his shirt off, revealing more of the jagged, black marks trailing from his shoulders down to the center of his back. A second later, the shower came on, the sound of the spray hitting the tiles somewhat muffled by the half-closed door. Byakuya stared through it for a second before facing his reflection again, glad that Renji hadn't noticed how tight these pants were and how little they concealed. Duty and honor came first, and he would not for his life have his sister and that cretin future husband of hers speculating about why he and Renji were late.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The neighborhood was quiet, the night air pleasantly cool as they made their way down the street leading to the Kurosaki house. Renji walked with his hands in his pockets, jacket askew, tie thrown over his shoulder, probably because he knew it irked his captain. But Byakuya was not going to be drawn into an argument. It forced him to express himself unnecessarily and generally only resulted in a vowed withholding of sex, which, while punishment enough for Renji, was not particularly pleasant for him either.
"The sisters' names," he said after awhile, his calm, dry voice breaking the silence between them.
Renji yawned. "Yuzu and Karin. Yuzu's the quiet one."
Byakuya nodded.
They'd gone through all of this before, of course. Renji had muttered something about it being, what, seven years now? and he still didn't know the names of his sister's future sisters-in-law? Byakuya had received his criticism as silently as usual, quietly sipping tea beside him. That apparently hadn't pleased Renji, who'd growled something incoherent before getting up and leaving the dinner table, probably to go sulk, as was his wont. That night, he was unaccountably rough during their lovemaking, to the point that Byakuya felt it required mentioning afterward.
It isn't supposed to hurt, he'd argued, frowning slightly.
Did it hurt? I couldn't tell. You didn't act any different or anything.
"What're ya thinking about?"
He snapped out of his musings and glanced sideways at Renji, who was looking at him with genuine interest.
"Nothing," he replied after moment.
"Nothing?" Renji lifted one red eyebrow, black stripes etched into his skin arching upward as well. "Come on. That wasn't the face of somebody who's thinkin' about 'nothing.' What's the big secret?" His mouth started to curve at the corners a bit, brown eyes glinting a little.
Byakuya focused ahead as they walked, missing the previously calm silence. Beside him, Renji made a noise that could've been either amusement or annoyance—probably the latter. He wouldn't pursue the matter because he still knew his place, but it was always quite clear when he was upset. He scowled and sulked, and when he did deign to open his mouth again, he dropped all honorifics and spoke as stiffly as if he'd been born into the Kuchiki household himself.
Byakuya frowned, thinking of something. "Is it required that we bring something?"
"What's the point. You can't cook."
Byakuya's expression did not change. He was used to his fukutaichou's childishness, and although that childishness occasionally bordered on insubordination, he refused to acknowledge it because that inevitably was what Renji wanted him to do. He would not be baited like some beleaguered woman in a dead-end marriage.
Finally, Renji sighed, one hand sliding out of his pants pocket to reach for Byakuya's, fingers curling around his captain's. "Didn't I tell you not to be nervous? They're gonna love you, okay? Just 'cause you're family and stuff. That's how it works around here."
Byakuya felt the subtle jab, but it was not undeserved. The Kuchiki family had not been pleased to discover that his unruly, loud-mouthed, common subordinate had moved in with him a few years ago. Renji had told him afterward with a surprised smile that it had been the only time he'd ever heard his taichou raise his voice. Byakuya hadn't said anything in response, but for once, his lover didn't seem to mind.
"Well, here we are."
Byakuya paused at the foot of the pathway, where the stepping-stones met the sidewalk. He had seen the house before, of course, but had never been invited inside as a guest. It greatly resembled the one Ichigo had grown up in, only slightly bigger. Renji, naturally, had spent numerous hours inside, as simultaneous best friend to both future bride and groom. He was not happy, initially, over how often his fukutaichou asked for leave to visit the pair, but eventually Renji seemed to sniff out his disquiet and had hastened to reassure him that the feelings he had once felt for his lover's sister were long since dwindled. He claimed to be happy for her and Ichigo. Byakuya had listened silently and serenely, sitting calmly behind his desk, hands in his lap. Renji must have felt awkward because he left almost as soon as he had come, and they never brought the matter up between them again.
He glanced down when he felt the hand in his tugging gently.
"Are we standing out here all night or something?" Renji was smiling a little, head slightly cocked. "C'mon, Taichou. It'll be okay, I promise."
They walked down the path, up to the front door, Renji leaning forward to ring the doorbell. Wordlessly, Byakuya pulled his hand away.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
His adopted sister smiled up at him, her forever-scowling fiancé next to her, arm positioned lightly, subtly behind her back.
"Nii-sama!" Rukia said the word as if she hadn't expected him to come, although her eyes were shining with pleasure. "P-Please, come in!"
Byakuya entered, feeling Renji's finger briefly brush the small of his back as he followed.
Ichigo nodded at him. "Hey, Byakuya." Status meant nothing to the so-called substitute shinigami and obviously never would. He gave Renji a playful shove on the shoulder. "Hey, Fag."
Renji shoved him back, harder. "Pussy-boy." Then he bent to grab Rukia in a bear hug, lifting her until her feet were about a foot off the ground. "Congratulations!!!"
"Renji!!" She squirmed and laughed—she had learned to laugh recently. Or perhaps not so recently. She didn't visit Seireitei very often these days. "Put me down!"
Byakuya stood silently by while the three exchanged greetings, until Rukia seemed to remember he was there and hastily ordered Ichigo to shut the door before showing her brother and her best friend to the next room.
It was a formal affair: friends and family members were seated around a low table, enjoying tea and sampling hors d'oeuvres. The center of the table was lit with small white candles, and soft music was playing in the background. A loud, animated man presided at one end of the table—Kurosaki Isshin, he presumed. Beside him, two young women, a quiet blonde who kept getting up to see to the needs of the other guests, and a dark-haired girl who seemed determined to keep her father—this had to be Karin—in line.
Several others he recognized, but only one stood up and acknowledged him properly, even bowing lowly.
"Kuchiki-taichou," the Quincy boy said, lowering his gaze respectfully, candlelight glinting off his spectacles. Beside him, the girl Inoue gazed up in astonishment. Despite the fact that he suspected this whole thing had been planned for his benefit, it seemed no one had actually expected him to come. He was aware, of course, of a looser affair that had been thrown for the happy couple in Seireitei, at one of the bars Renji, Rukia, and their friends liked to frequent. Renji had mentioned it to him, offhandedly, after the fact, then immediately looked horrorstruck. Apparently, word of his slip-up had gotten back to Rukia, and a few weeks later, he'd received an invitation to attend the "formal" engagement party.
Of course he had no interest in such things. He was only here because Rukia had requested his presence. The thought that he may have been hurt over not being invited to the first gathering was quite ridiculous.
The first hour droned on, fairly tedious, as Rukia and her friend Inoue served the guests—his sister's fiancé lounged at the other end of the table, seemingly incapable of standing to help lift a finger. Byakuya added this to the long list of Reasons He Did Not Like Kurosaki Ichigo. It was a very private list, rarely shared with anyone, and then only his fukutaichou, whose response to each new addition was always to throw his head back and laugh until his face matched the color of his hair.
Renji turned at that moment and met his gaze, a slight grin tugging at his lips when he caught the expression of distaste on his captain's face. Byakuya ignored him and resumed picking politely at the plate before him. Beneath the table, he felt a large, warm hand close over the one resting on his lap, but this, too, he refused to acknowledge.
After dinner, the wine came, and he seemed to be the only who restricted himself to sipping in moderation, aside from Ichigo's sisters. The others partook freely until the noise level around the table had risen significantly, people now feeling more boisterous about voicing their opinions on whatever topics were at hand. He was the lone solemn face in a sea of smiles and laughter, and he would have risen to politely excuse himself long ago, had not both his sister and his lover looked as if they were having such a wonderful time. He had been gently instructed by Jyuushirou countless times to try to refrain from inflicting his severe habits on those around him. Yoruichi had said pretty much the same thing, though naturally in a manner which made it more difficult to accept the advice.
Eventually, some of the younger men rose to their feet and retired to a back room, presumably to drool over some new electronic contraption Ichigo had recently purchased. He could not understand his fukutaichou's fascination with such objects, or why he would come home after spending a few days here roaring about being "beaten unfairly" and vowing never to play again, yet in the same breath swearing he would kick that cheating bastard's ass from here to Hueco Mundo if it was the last thing he ever did. Byakuya never let on that he had no idea what he was talking about. He could only surmise that some sort of combat had taken place, only one that did not involve zanpaktou, as several of Ichigo's mortal friends were also often in attendance.
"More wine, Kuchiki-san?" Inoue hovered beside him with the bottle, offering him a friendlier smile than the polite one she had first given him.
He shook his head slightly, picking up his own glass to sip, showing he still had plenty. She beamed at him again then moved to offer it to some of the other guests, all of whom merrily agreed to a refill, even, he noticed, a now pink-cheeked Quincy, who apparently felt it beneath his dignity to join the others in the next room.
After a moment, he rose silently to his feet, a little unsteadily, because even the small amount of wine he'd had had gone straight to his head.
"Nii-sama?" Rukia asked, looking up at him with slightly widened eyes.
"Your restroom," he said.
She seemed to relax immediately, and rose to her feet as well to point. "Just down that hallway. Nii-sama… I'm sure you could join the others, if you wanted," she added, almost shyly. He was aware that his sister could be as loud and rude as her best friend, but around him she was always like this: shy, almost reserved, resembling her sister more than she could ever know.
He nodded, barely, but did not otherwise answer, instead heading down the indicated hallway, passing the noisy room where "the others" were gathered before slipping into the bathroom.
As he rinsed his hands off and dried them with the provided fluffy yellow towel (white bunnies running along the fringes) he studied his reflection in the mirror and wondered, as he so often did, what it was that had caused his fukutaichou to decide to pursue him. It must have been something that Hisana had not seen—something in these admittedly haughty, proud eyes that Renji had been drawn to, while she had been deterred. Or had he changed, afterward? Was he different from the person who had first boldly introduced Hisana to his disbelieving family? Different from the one who had done the same with Renji? His fukutaichou had stood beside him in stark contrast to Hisana, proudly gazing back at the startled members of the Kuchiki household, chin lifted, brown eyes narrowed and glaring fiercely down at them all. Was it simply because he was getting used to breaking his family rules that this second time had been easier? Or because of that added strength, that support that Renji never ceased to offer him? He was unlike Hisana in every way: bold, forthright, and bordering on rude, yet staunchly, earnestly supportive. It stood to reason, then, that Byakuya himself must have changed, for him to have had two such distinctly different lovers.
"It's not that I don't love him anymore…"
He froze, the sound of Renji's voice filtering through the adjoining wall, slightly muffled.
"Yeah, so? Then what's the problem?"
Ichigo's voice, less boisterous than usual, but loud enough to be heard even more clearly than Renji's. They were not with the others; they must have moved into another room, one that obviously shared a thin wall with the bathroom.
"I dunno. I just… nothing's changed. Not a damn thing." Renji sounded upset, more upset than he had ever heard him sound. But not as if he were about to fly into one of his red-faced, Zabimarou-howling rages. No, he sounded almost… depressed.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he's the same he's always been. Nothing's changed between us. I mean… fuck. I'm not sayin' it right." A heavy sigh, easily discernable, then the faint creaking of a mattress. "Of course I love him. But it's like being in love with a fucking statue. Shit."
"Well… I mean, come on. You didn't think he was gonna change. Did you?"
"I thought… I dunno what I thought. I thought I could do something. You know? I thought I could be the one. Help him loosen up a little, learn to enjoy life. Now it's like… I swear it's gotten even worse. We argue all the time, man…"
"So? Rukia and me—"
"No, it's not like that. It's like… the stupidest…" Another heavy sigh. "I mean, every time I…"
But at the moment, something must have happened in the other room, as there was a sudden uproar of excited voices, followed by laughter. Byakuya pressed himself against the wall, his brow furrowing slightly, trying to listen to what his fukutaichou was saying.
"…try to talk to him and I get nuthin. Zip. It's like… like talking to a…"
"A statue?"
"Yeah." If that was meant to be funny, Renji wasn't laughing. "So I'm at this point… I don't know where to go from here. He can't be happy. He can't be. But after what happened to Hisana, I mean, I can't just… I can't just leave him like that."
"I guess not. But is this the kind of life you wanna live? Do you wanna be this fucking miserable, all the time?"
… "Fuck. I don't know."
"So what're you gonna do about it?"
A longer silence, then, again, almost inaudibly:
"I don't know."
Suddenly, he was sick.
He leaned against the wall, in desperate need of immediate support, the room whirling dizzyingly. Once the vertigo passed, he straightened, or tried to, his limbs still shaking slightly, as if he had just come from the battlefield, his reiatsu drained and his body weakened, physically and mentally. He managed to collect himself enough to make it through the door, then back down the hallway, bypassing the closed door, concealing the room where his fukutaichou now sat, being consoled by his best friend, possibly considering…
He returned to the table and sank down to his heels, barely aware of how the conversation seemed to die around him.
"Nii-sama…?"
He looked up and met his sister's concerned look, but couldn't seem to really see her. For one moment, she was Hisana, her eyes dark and pitying, proud in their own way, knowing he could never make her completely his. Then another pair of eyes, even more familiar to him—fierce and proud and furious—
"Nii-sama…" Rukia knelt down beside him, one hand hesitantly settling on his arm. "Are you unwell…?"
"I hardly saw him sip his wine," someone said in a hushed, concerned voice. "Could he have had too much?"
"No," he said, unsure which question it was he was answering.
"You should go home." Rukia said, squeezing his arm lightly, "I'll get Renji."
"No," he repeated, and such was the nature of their relationship that she relented immediately, dropping her hands and, after a moment, rising to her feet and returning to her seat.
The conversation picked up again, but it seemed dull and halted. He couldn't understand a word.
Abruptly, he stood up again.
He found his sister's eyes again, looking up at him, wide and dark. "Please tell Renji I have returned to the hotel."
And with that, he turned and left.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The air was even cooler now, almost chilly, but he hardly noticed it. All he could think about was Renji's quiet, desperate response to Ichigo's question: I don't know.
He didn't know. He didn't know what? Whether or not he loved his captain as much as he thought he did? Or whether or not his captain loved him back? Was there a difference?
Byakuya couldn't tell anymore. He couldn't think. He could only feel and remember—remember how he felt each and every time Hisana had told him she didn't love him—each and every time Renji assured him that he did, how he paused afterward, waiting for a response. How rarely Byakuya could bring himself to give it. How inevitably this would widen the gulf between them, silence settling in the empty space there, until Renji would sigh and either continue holding him or turn around and face the moonlight until his eyes had closed and his breathing had steadied.
Something inside him tightened, threatening to spill over. Renji was going to leave him. How could he bear it? How could he go on being as he always had—Kuchiki Byakuya, the epitome of strength and serenity, power and grace—an emotionless presence—the one person whom everyone respected, but no one ever remembered to talk to.
A statue.
"Taichou!"
He didn't stop walking. Instead, he quickened his pace, slightly shaking fingers balling into fists. He heard Renji's heavy approach, the younger shinigami huffing and puffing, footsteps thudding into the cement. "Taichou, wait!"
He couldn't stop.
He couldn't run.
"Byakuya!"
His eyes widened, ever so slightly, but it took Renji's firm hands planting on his shoulders and spinning him around to face him before he would stop.
He glared up into his lover's eyes with all the ferocity he could muster. "Release me."
Unfortunately, his voice was trembling.
"Taichou?" Renji's voice was quiet now, a soft mixture of surprise and concern. "Taichou, are… are you crying?"
He shook his shoulders violently, wrenching them free, and would have spun around had not Renji grabbed him yet again.
"Release me," he repeated, but his body continued to betray him, now starting to shake somewhat, both hating and needing the strong arm that curled around him now.
"Like hell." And whether he wanted to be or not, he was pulled into an embrace, his face now pressed into the space between Renji's neck and shoulder.
He cried—for what, he didn't know. For the realization that this could be their last night together, for the understanding that he was the cause of their separation. Because Renji had tried for almost seven years now to get him to be someone he was not, and now, upon failing, had decided he couldn't bear it anymore. Couldn't bear living with someone who had in reality ceased to live over fifty years ago. And all for a woman who had been unable to return his devotion to her.
And so he had died with her. He realized this now.
But Renji wanted him to live again.
He couldn't. Their time together had been enough to prove to his fukutaichou that his captain was as unattainable as he had once confessed to believe him to be. Byakuya remembered that confession, late at night, not long after their first time together.
I was afraid.
The words were so quiet, barely audible, miles away from the way Renji usually spoke.
Afraid of what? he'd asked, curious, and still wondering at what had happened between them, not yet having learned to disguise his new feelings. That I would be angry?
That you wouldn't do a damn thing about it. That I'd never know how you felt.
Such a strange thing to fear. Typical of his childish subordinate—his lover now. There were a lot of things about Renji that he never understood. But he had never tried to understand.
"Don't leave me," he said, the muffled command tumbling from his lips before he could stop it. He felt Renji's arms tighten around him and once again tried to gather himself together, but failed.
"I'm not leaving you." The promise, sharp and fervent, close to his ear, the warmth of Renji's breath against his skin. "I'm not leaving you, Byakuya."
And why should those words make him cry harder? Undoubtedly, it was the culmination of years of pent-up emotions, the result of a carefully cultured reserve which had so far managed to fend off everyone around him save the man before him right now. He had not wept since Hisana's death. Now there was no stopping it.
Renji held him until he finished. Byakuya felt strangely belittled in his arms, his dignity in shambles, as if his clothes had been cut from his body, leaving him standing, naked and alone. Except that he knew Renji would cover him, protect him. And there was dignity in that—wasn't there? There was dignity in being loved so completely. To inspire such devotion.
He became aware after a moment of Renji gently touching his face, thumbs wiping at the tear streaks on his cheeks. He frowned and turned his head.
"I heard you," he said, his voice thankfully having recovered its usual toneless quality.
"Heard me?" He heard the confusion in Renji's voice. As usual, his fukutaichou was not a particularly quick thinker. "Oh. Oh… shit."
He frowned at the expletive—wanted to pull away, but again, Renji wouldn't let him.
"Am I that difficult to live with?" He turned his head since Renji wasn't letting him turn his body. He could struggle, could certainly easily overpower him, but he hadn't the energy. "Is your life so miserable now with me?"
The silence stretched between them, like it did sometimes when Renji told him he loved him. To his dismay, he felt the tears gathering in his eyes yet again, making his lashes dark and heavy.
"Are you really that stupid?"
Renji's question made him whip his head around, to stare in shocked indignation up at his lover. But something in Renji's eyes kept him silent, though his own remained slightly widened.
Renji smiled—a rare, true smile, not his usual half-cocked smirk. "Idiot. You are that stupid, aren't you?" Now he was smirking. "You think this is about me? You think I'm just slogging through this thing, forcing myself to do it for your benefit?"
It was rare that Byakuya could ever feel even remotely chastened, but something about the look Renji fixed him with made him experience a glimmer of that emotion.
"Idiot," he repeated. "You're the one I can't stop thinking about. You think I'm ever going to get over you or something?" He swore, squinting a little. "I don't give a damn about myself. It's you who's miserable, Taichou. I can see it in your eyes. But that's it. I can just see it. Taste it. Feel it." He shook his head. "I don't hear about it. Not from you. You don't tell me shit. It's like… like being with a…"
"A statue?" Byakuya asked quietly.
Renji had the grace to look sheepish.
"I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he said. "I just… I want to make you happy, but I don't know how. And I just started to wonder if maybe you were never gonna be happy."
"I'm happy," Byakuya said suddenly, surprising them both. He reached up in surprise, touching his own lips, feeling mildly alarmed. Then he looked back up at Renji.
"I'm happy," he repeated, more softly, almost wonderingly. "Renji." He met his lover's eyes with his most determined, solemn look. "I would have died without you. Now that you are here, I know that I cannot live without you. If this is happiness, then yes… I'm happy."
They stared into one another's eyes like that for a moment, a sort of breathless silence between them. Very briefly, he began to feel stupid, making such heartfelt declarations out here at night in the middle of a quiet suburban neighborhood.
Finally, Renji smiled again. "I guess that'll have to be good enough. I mean," he gave a lazy, one-shouldered shrug, "it's something to work with."
"Yes," Byakuya agreed, and this time Renji didn't have to pull him close because he did it himself, leaning against his fukutaichou's broad chest, resting the side of his face against one rough cheek. Renji's arms closed around him again, hugging him, and Byakuya felt he did not need to open his mouth to let his lover know that he was happy.
After a few minutes had passed, he finally sighed and pulled away. "We should return to the house," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Rukia seemed concerned."
"Nah. I'll call her in the morning."
"You'll… of course." He had no idea what Renji was talking about. He was quite certain that Hell Butterflies did not function in the mortal realm.
Renji chuckled, and when Byakuya looked up at him, he was smirking again. "You have no fucking clue what that means. Do you?"
"Remember your place, Abarai-fukutaichou," he said a bit sharply, gathering himself with his usual dignity and turning towards the hotel. "Do not for a moment assume that your information surpasses my own."
"No clue, right?"
Renji fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets, grinning rather jauntily.
"No," he admitted. He hesitated, then added, "What does it mean?"
When Renji refused to tell him, his growing smirk only lasted until his captain's fist connected with his arm.
"Fuck!" He grimaced and rubbed his left bicep. "What the hell was that for?!"
"It was either that or no sex for a week," Byakuya replied calmly.
Renji shot him a look, rearing back a little as they walked. "You're evil. You know that?"
Byakuya just smirked. The expression itself was enough to stun his lover into silence for at least half a minute longer. He welcomed the silence—in as much a different manner from when he had welcomed it earlier as was possible.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Renji had to help him with his tie again. He did not complain or even lift a brow when his lover walked up to him and began to gently and deftly tug it loose. In truth, his thoughts were too preoccupied to bother with something so trivial.
Their trek back to the hotel had been nothing out of the ordinary. As was their usual method of communicating, Renji did all the talking and he the listening. Except not once did Renji test him to see if he really were listening, nor did he seem annoyed when Byakuya's only response was the occasional thoughtful nod. In turn, Byakuya made an effort to glance at his fukutaichou as they walked, and in doing so, found renewed pleasure in his company. No one in the world was as animated in his conversation as Abarai Renji—he gestured violently to support his claims, his face reddening or his mouth gaping open as he laughed, shaking shoulders adding to the overall effect. Byakuya even caught himself smiling, once or twice, ever so slightly, although, like glimpsing the far side of a rainbow after a storm, the expression tended to fade as soon as he became aware of its presence.
"Whatcha thinking about?"
He blinked and met Renji's warm brown eyes, then looked away again, gazing absently out the dark window, now partially concealed by heavy white drapes.
"Our conversation earlier," he eventually said.
Renji's smile faded a little. "Oh." He looked down. "I wish… I really wish you hadn't heard all that—
Byakuya shook his head, almost impatiently. "Not that. What you were telling me on the way back here. About the box with the images, like a television. How you all fight one another."
Renji blinked. "Oh," he said again, and this seemed to be all he could manage at the moment.
Byakuya continued staring at the window for a while, then he inclined his head again, looking up into Renji's eyes once more. "I wish to try it."
Renji's reaction was priceless. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened so much that the dark tattoos above each eyebrow nearly disappeared behind the strands of loosened red hair. "You… you what?"
Byakuya stared at him, sighing inwardly. He disliked repeating himself immensely. "I wish to try it."
Renji looked askance. "I dunno, Taichou. It's really competitive…
Byakuya lifted a brow.
"I mean," he continued hastily, "it's fucking brutal. We get pretty serious. Like every time I lose to Ichigo I feel like I just wanna pick up the nearest blunt object and ram it into his big, fat, strawberry-colored head."
"Very relatable," Byakuya commented dryly.
"Yeah…" Renji scratched his head, still looking doubtful. "And another thing. The name-calling and stuff; we say some pretty nasty shit to one another…"
Again, Byakuya only raised a brow at him.
"Yeah, okay, sure, you hear it all the time. But how would you react if someone called you a…" But then Renji had to pause and perhaps silently admit that no one in his or her right mind would ever be foolish enough to call Kuchiki-taichou a derogatory name. Might as well fall on your own zanpaktou and call it a day.
"Renji," Byakuya finally said, drawing himself up so that his hapless fukutaichou unconsciously straightened as well. "All of your reasons so far have been completely and utterly without merit. They are obviously meant to detract from your true objection to my participating, which is…" he looked his lover challengingly in the eye, "you do not think I am capable of having fun."
Renji was gaping again.
"Huh?!" Now he was sputtering. "That's not true! T-Taichou, I would never think that! I m-mean, you… I never said it, did I? Doesn't that count for something?!"
But Byakuya was no longer listening. Wordlessly, he pulled the loosened tie from around his neck and laid it aside on the dresser. Next, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over a chair, then, after a moment's thought, stepped out of his pants and did the same with them. Now clad in only his shirt and underwear, he approached the king-sized bed, the sheets still in disarray from when Renji had been jumping on top of them earlier.
Very carefully, almost gingerly, he climbed onto the mattress and stood up, then turned to face his now speechless fukutaichou. "See?" he said, and he started to, very slowly, jump up and down, bouncing lightly over the comforter bunched up beneath his bare feet. He found the movement dizzying at first, the balance awkward, but he found a nice rhythm after a second or two.
For what seemed like an eternity, there was not a sound in the room, save for the faint creaking of the mattress beneath his feet. And then—
"WoooohooHOOO!!!"
Renji crossed the room in two giant strides, then made a crashing leap onto the mattress, the heavy impact of his feet almost knocking Byakuya off his own. "Renji!" he cried, but his lover caught his flailing arms and helped keep him up right, grinning like a little kid the whole time.
"Yeah!!" he cried, red hair bouncing wildly about his shoulders. "Let's see who can jump the highest!! Woohooo, look at me! I'm gonna win!!!"
For one, brief, incalculable moment, Byakuya thought about climbing off the bed. His point, after all, had been made. The next moment, he screwed up his face and fixed his lover with his most imposing, challenging look ever and began to jump. Really, really jump. Higher, and higher, and higher—several times they were both in danger of toppling over onto the floor or, perhaps even worse, hurtling completely across the room, smashing into god knew what.
"Yeah right!!" Renji crowed triumphantly, each heavy impact of his feet sending Byakuya soaring even higher into the air. "Like you can win! You weigh, what, 130, 135? Lightweight!!"
"140!!" Byakuya cried, as he began to move his arms up and down, hoping to give himself leverage. Soon he couldn't tell who was winning because he'd lost all sense of direction completely, the only thing in his immediate vision an insurmountable number of red strands of hair, flailing wildly about the air.
"OOF!!"
They came together abruptly, smacking into one another, limbs tangling up, tripping Byakuya and throwing Renji off balance. He fell onto his back against the mattress, the impact knocking all the breath out of his body, though that was nothing to the second impact of Renji landing on top of him.
"Off!" he cried, but the command was little more than a breathy stutter considering he was still having difficulty drawing air into his lungs. He tried to push Renji aside, but the body lying so heavily on top of his own wasn't budging an inch. The broad shoulders beneath his fingers were starting to shake, and it became clear that there was little he could do save wait until his fukutaichou had gotten over his sudden fit of the giggles.
"Renji…" he warned, but then he just sighed and closed his eyes. Tentatively, a smile worked its way across his mouth, and before he knew it, he was laughing with him, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes for the second time tonight, but this time for entirely different reasons.
It took a few minutes for them to both recover enough to finally shift into more comfortable positions. "That was fun," Renji commented afterward, stating the obvious as he always tended to do. It made for a very tiresome read for anyone who had to glance over his reports back in Seireitei.
Byakuya closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the pillow. "It was necessary," he said after awhile.
Renji chuckled. "Yes sir, Mr. Practical, sir." He tightened his arms around Byakuya, pulling him closer. "Okay, so you proved your point. You know how to have fun." He pressed a teasing kiss against his lover's unresponsive lips. "Took you long enough."
Byakuya chose not to dignify that with a response.
"You know what I was thinking?" Renji continued, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "It's pretty cool about Ichigo and Rukia, huh? I mean, they been together so long, it's about time, isn't it?"
This time Byakuya could not quite refrain from commenting.
"She could do better."
Renji chuckled again. "Knew you'd say that." Another kiss, this one to his forehead. "That's not the point, though." He paused. "Shit. I dunno how to say it right."
"Just say it, Renji," Byakuya suggested rather sleepily. He discovered that jumping on the bed before climbing into it was clearly a definitive cure for insomnia.
Another pause, then:
"Okay. Hey, Byakuya—will you marry me?"
His eyes flew open.
"What?" he asked, staring up into his lover's face now.
Renji was grinning. "Oi, Taichou. Don't look so surprised. You'll only make me say it again."
Byakuya just stared, mouth half-open, heart racing in his chest.
"I don't understand," he finally managed.
Renji chuckled, but he was starting to look uncomfortable. "What's there to understand?"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to marry me?"
Now his lover looked downright confused. "Um." He frowned, reached up to scratch his head. "Because I love you?"
Byakuya sucked in a breath. "That's not good enough," he said. "After everything between us—after what just happened—Renji—"
"Hey!"
It wasn't quite a shout, but there was enough force behind the word to shut him up long enough to notice that Renji was more than a little upset.
"Okay, whatever," he said. "Just stop. I'm not gonna let you ruin this. You, with all your over-thinking and your self-deprecating shit…" he made a frustrated noise in his throat, "like I'm gonna just lie here and let you question this. I mean, we decided you're happy, right? No, don't answer, you'd probably like implode or something if you had to admit that twice in one night. So, you're happy, and you love me, and I love you, right? Then what's the big deal? Besides, it's a yes or no question. It doesn't require like some fucking dissertation on the topic or something. You just say yes or you say no, and we go on our merry little way."
Byakuya felt mildly flummoxed. Renji was not in the habit of speaking to him in such a… harsh… manner. Generally, when he was unsure of how to respond he tended to keep his thoughts to himself. But the expression on Renji's face suggested that silence was simply not an option right now.
"Fine," he eventually said, his usual dry, vaguely imperious tone managing to leak through. "Please say it again."
Renji frowned. "Say what?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the beginnings of a headache, then opened them again to stare meaningfully into his lover's eyes.
Renji blinked." Oh." Then, after a moment, asked again, this time more carefully, almost gently. "Byakuya—will you marry me?"
"Yes. Renji—"
Evidently, there was to be no more talking. His faint protest died against Renji's lips, those strong arms pulling him close again, warm hands sliding under his shirt to smooth over his skin as they kissed. Byakuya gave in easily, far too easily—he always did—and soon they were making love, as if the poor bed hadn't suffered enough. He arched his head back and cried out as he came, feeling Renji come inside him soon afterward before falling on top of him. He was still in his shirt, Renji in t-shirt and boxers. Confused, dizzy, and spent with passion, he would have fallen asleep like that had not his lover encouraged him to undress and slide under the covers first.
"I knew you'd say yes," Renji said after awhile, his voice now equally sleepy.
Byakuya didn't bother to open his eyes. He did not find it so difficult to comprehend that they were engaged. What he found difficult was how Renji still had the energy to talk.
"You didn't," he eventually said. "Your face… you were worried."
"Yeah? And whose fault was that?"
He felt like pointing out that Renji had dodged the point but decided not to.
"… Good night, Renji," he finally said, feeling his whole body starting to become heavy with sleep.
"Mm. Night. Hey." A faint, sleepy kiss to the side of his forehead. "Love you."
He hesitated—it was only natural. It was his nature.
"I love you, too."
But the words, when they finally did come, came so easily. They seemed to wash over him like the petals of Senbonzakura, only infinitely soft, hovering in the air for a moment before sinking back inside him, settling around his heart. Instinctively, he felt Renji's body relax beside his own and knew that he had felt it, too, though he was already asleep. The difference, of course, was that Renji had always felt it, had felt it since the very first time they had exchanged those three little words.
As he began to drift off, Byakuya knew that he would be saying them a lot more now. Perhaps every night. Perhaps every morning. Perhaps he would never stop saying them, for as long as they both lived.