A/n: This is a very old ByaRuki one-shot I wrote after I fell/stumbled into the ship what feels like decades ago. It sat (like a million other Bleach one-shots of mine) unfinished on my hard-drive for a few years until I found it again, liked it, and decided it needed a proper ending.

Hope you enjoy!

The Gaze

ByaRuki One-Shot

"I'm not Hisana," was the first thing that came out of her mouth when he entered—shipoed into, really—their chamber upon hearing of her sickly state, no doubt leaving a mountain load of documents behind at his desk.

He had been giving her an anxious variation of The Gaze, which to anyone but Rukia herself looked like any other stoic expression of his; only she, even with her half-open eyes, could see how this gaze was all but drowning in worry, and how it morphed acutely into anger the minute her long-dead sister was brought up.

The Gaze went from I-know to that-is-besides-the-point to why-must-you-bring-it-up in the span of no more than three seconds. Then he shuffled inside, kneeled in front of her bedding, and placed a hand on her burning forehead. His cool palm felt like an ice-pack against her skin.

Rukia sighed and closed her eyes and promptly felt the weight of The Gaze on her face.

The shinigami of the fourth division who had been tending to her fever promptly took this opportunity, and with good reason, to slip out of the room and cease existing to either of them. Alone, Byakuya finally leaned forward and kissed her mouth where he lingered on her lips a fraction of a minute longer than normal. Byakuya Kisses were short and brisk and cool as silk, but this new Byakuya Kiss was soft and gentle and faltering fearfully like it was unsure of what was to come, like she was going to simply shatter if he wasn't careful.

She made a displeasing noise in the back of her throat.

"I'm not Hisana," she said again, louder this time, as if volume would further help Byakuya understand this one pivotal point. The Gaze hardened, narrowed, before pointedly looked away.

Rukia caught his chin and turned him back.

"I'm not going to die," she clarified, shaking his face in emphasis. I'm not going to leave you, she meant to say. "Not now, not ever."

The Gaze was uncomprehending. It swept her bedding like a fine tooth comb, darkened when it found a bowl of untouched soup at her side and grasped this opportunity to bring up a far more important point.

"Have you eaten today?" Byakuya spoke for the first time since his moody arrival, his low tone echoing with a cool undercurrent of The Voice. The Voice was perhaps even more infamous than The Gaze in that it was used only when The Gaze did not yield desired results; it smoothly permeated, without the least visible effort, all the venom of a snake and every grain of Kuchiki Prowess.

With Rukia, more often than not and as the case was now, it rumbled with acute disappointment and a touch of exasperation.

Rukia pursed her lips and brazenly turned her back to the dragon that was her husband. This was certain death, as Byakuya did not particularly like being ignored, but the fever was making her brave and instantly his reiatsu curled around her in a spike of displeasure.

"Rukia," he warned, releasing a slow, dragon-like exhale through his nose.

She buried herself deeper into her pillow.

"Rukia."

Eyes clenched shut, she sang the Chappy theme song to herself in her head.

"...Rukia," he finally said quietly, volume low and heavy with a tiredness so un-Byakuya, she immediately felt guilty. Her resilience cracked, fractured, then proceeded to shatter all together when he gathered her into his arms and pulled her onto his lap. This close, she could easily rest her head against his chest and listen to the one thing she loved the most about him.

His heart.

Its beat was usually slow and steady, like the rhythmic pounding of a drum from a deep underwater cavern, both soothing and lulling and frightening all at the same time. It was a song that she loved falling asleep to, a song she loved waking up to, and one she missed whenever either of them was apart on the course of long missions.

Today, this very second, it raced just a fraction faster.

"I know you are not Hisana," Byakuya supplied after a time, a meditative sigh lingering on his words. Rukia clenched the front of his captain's jacket at this, relieved, as the unspoken fear lifted itself from her chest. To this day, even after years of courtship, the dread lingered—sometimes quiet, understated, easily thwarted; other times loud and obvious, like today. "But that does not stop me from worrying any less."

She poked him gently, lovingly. "Why?"

Byakuya looked off in the distance, contemplating briefly, before suddenly covering her mouth with hers completely and wholly. This time, The Kiss was powerful and burning—a kiss that consumed her like a fire spreading from her toes and twisting her stomach and bringing heat to her cheeks.

She jabbed him in between the ribs.

He paused before pulling back reluctantly. When her eyes opened, she saw The Gaze staring back at her, pointedly annoyed.

"I'm sick," she said, logically.

He pressed his lips against her jaw. "So?"

She had to bite the inside of his cheeks from mewling aloud. "I don't want you to get sick."

The kiss traveled down the curve of her neck. "Why?"

This time, she did mewl. Frustrated that her motives were being questioned, she grabbed his face to still his roaming lips. "Because!" she snapped. "Just because I care about you and I don't want you in pain and—" Rukia's eyes suddenly grew wide. Comprehension slapped her in the face. "Oh."

Byakuya twinkled with the tiniest hint of smugness. This was the very same Kuchiki Smugness he wore every time he pulverized her in one of their daily duels in the practice hall. It made Rukia simmer hotly with embarrassment.

"Alright," she mumbled, sinking her face into his hiori. "I get it."

"Do you?" He was not going to make this easy, she realized as his eyebrow arched slightly higher than its normal arc. "What do you understand, Rukia?"

She wanted to sock him in the jaw. As if she could.

"That it's natural to worry for someone you care about." Moodily, she traced the symbol of the 6th division on the soft white plains of his captain's jacket and added, "That it's ok to be weak once in awhile."

Byakuya hummed softly in response and in the silence, his fingers massaged the tight, tense muscles of her shoulders. An inescapable sleepiness greeted her, so fog-inducing that she almost missed the words that followed.

"I have never seen you as weak, Rukia."

There was none of the usual Byakuya in his tone, none of the Calculated Subterfuge that The Voice was so renowned for; none of the chiseled stoniness when she peeked through her bangs to study him and saw the pleasant absence of The Gaze. In the setting sun, bathed in orange, he looked soft and peaceful. If she squinted, she almost saw a smile.

It was perhaps the most open he had ever been with her, and she felt such a strong wave of adoration steal her breath that she broke into coughs.

Ah that's right, the sobering thought crossed in her mind. I'm sick.

By Byakuya's sudden stiffness, the same realization hit him as well. "I should let you rest," he remarked, rubbing the small of her back until her coughs subsided. When he moved to carefully deposit her, however, her fists tightened on his hiori.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure of how to convey her desire for him to stay without sounding needy.

So instead, she simply asked, "Do you have a lot of paperwork?"

The hands currently curled under her legs and neck twitched ever so subtly at her question. But Rukia was as attuned to Byakuya Ticks as the sun was to the sky. She knew without question he understood.

"Nothing that Renji cannot handle," came the stoic response.

She felt a trace of sympathy for her best friend now condemned to a day's worth of extra office work but she would make it up to him some other time. Free of her grip, Byakuya continued his original task of tucking her into her bed. He brushed the wet tendrils of her hair from her forehead, and then—much to her delight—slipped into the small space next to her.

It was a small bedroll, made for just one, but Byakuya curled around her much tinier frame, and somehow, they made it work.

A heat not from her fever warmed her from head to toe and once again, sleep beckoned her. But she fought to keep awake. She fought until she could memorize every curve of his cheek, every angle of his nose, and every silky strand of his lashes.

Semi-delirious, Rukia lifted her hands to trace the face that now shared her pillow. At her touch, Byakuya's eyelids lowered and Rukia felt her own eyes mimic the action until a warm darkness enveloped her whole and a pair of lips brushed her ear.

"Sleep Rukia. I will be here when you wake."

It was a promise she clutched to as all else faded away.

End

A/n: I'm trying to get back into fanfiction writing. Part of this process includes going through all the half-written Bleach fanfics I have littered about my computer and trying to publish them online.

I'm not sure if the fandom is even active but if you're out there reading this right now, thank you! This is for you. I hope it brought you a sliver of entertainment.