Things I'll Never Say, a bleach fanfic

Title: Things I'll Never Say

Pairing: UraIchi

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Summary: UraIchi. Development of a platonic relationship into something more, by a recurring event of never saying those little things at the right time.

A/N: Inspired by the.amethyst.alchemist and Avril Lavigne's Things I'll Never Say.

the.amethyst.alchemist and I were going on about our favourite type of sex, and being the closet saps that we are, agreed that the 'making love' theme was 'aw' worthy (grins). Soooo…listening to Avril Lavigne's Things I'll Never Say just kick started this fanfic.

This was done under half an hour before I had to go to my Maths exam today (twitches nervously), soooo…if it's crap, I already know :D

I couldn't bother making it multichaptered, so I stuck all those moments into an oneshot since they're so short, you can say they're in a chronological order, but it really isn't clear if they are…but there's a semi-lemon at the end (glares at readers) But don't skip to the end! I'll know if you do! (points to eyes and back at the readers) I'm watching you…

Enjoy!

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"If I could say what I wanna say
I'd say I want to blow you—away
Be with you every night
Am I squeezing you too tight?
If I could see what I wanna see
I want to see you go down—on one knee
Marry me today
Guess I'm wishing my life away
With these things I'll never say…"

-- Things I'd Never Say, Avril Lavigne

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THINGS I'LL NEVER SAY

X.x.X

He was a mess.

Orange hair tousled, pieces of twigs tangled in the vibrant strands and smudges of dirt on his clothes and face. But, he was more worried about the slight swaying of the branches and azure sky above him, the aches in what seemed every inch of his body and, of course, the mortification of what had just transpired. He heard amused laughter above him, the soft discharge of air when the cause of all this landed beside him with a jovial grin. "Are you alright, Kurosaki-kun?"

Blearily, Ichigo glared at Urahara, propping himself on his elbow to aim his heated stare better, or rather, he tried to. He yelped at the unexpected flare of pain from the joint and flopped on his back again, lips twisting down as he restrained the urge to cry out again from the pain. "Shit…"

There was soft shuffling, and pale fingers prodded his throbbing elbow cautiously. "Are you alright?" This time, the question held no amusement, instead there was slight taint of concern and Ichigo scowled irritably, pushing himself up with his other arm.

"Yeah, probably landed on it wrong…" The redhead winced when he moved his arm, blinking rapidly as a sudden bout of dizziness spun his head for a few seconds. A hand clamped on his shoulder, grey eyes shadowed by the green striped hat. "This is your fault." Ichigo couldn't help but snap.

"And I apologise." The grin was back, though more muted as the blond heaved him up. Ichigo cringed when Urahara gently lifted his arm up for inspection, prodding the bruising flesh again. There was already a purple splotch marring the tanned skin, and Ichigo hoped that he didn't break it. He didn't walk around with a dorky plaster cast after all. "Hmm…it's just bruised."

"Great." Ichigo reached up with his uninjured arm and picked out broken twigs and leaves from his hair, glowering angrily at the smiling blond all the way. "What do you want so much that you practically shoved me out of tree?"

"I didn't shove you out of the tree." Urahara sighed. His grin turned sheepish, giving the furious redhead a properly chastised look. "I'm sorry for startling you, Kurosaki-kun." Seeing the glare unwavering, the shopkeeper ducked his head a little, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes from view as he implored further for forgiveness. "I won't do it again…"

Ichigo could hear the undercurrent of amusement however, and he swatted at the blond's shoulder. "Don't say sorry unless you mean it." He muttered. Flexing his injured arm gingerly, he grimaced at the jolt of pain and let it hang limply by his side. "So, what did you want?"

Urahara looked up, brows furrowing briefly before the smile curled his lips. "Well, you looked so cute sleeping on the branch like that…oh, and there's a powerful Hollow nearby, but that's not really that important." His sentence was hardly finished when he had an armful of Ichigo, another Ichigo running past him clad in the Shinigami Uniform. "Have fun, Kurosaki-kun!"

"I'LL KICK YOUR ASS LATER, URAHARA!!" Ichigo roared before Shunpoing away.

Urahara laughed, turning to the soulless body that he was holding up in his arms. He should take the body back to his shop, bandage up the arm a little maybe as a proper apology (not that he wouldn't bandage the arm up even if it wasn't his fault). With a small smile, he nodded at the motionless body before speaking with the utmost sincerity in his voice:

"Sorry for hurting you."

X.x.X

It was howling.

Wind and rain lashed at the Urahara Shoten's windows, rumbling thunder growling savagely between sharp cracks of harsh lightning. It was fitting for the mood, Ichigo mused morbidly, staring blankly at the ceiling. He had trained late, and there was no way he was walking home in that…

The weather hadn't woken him up though, despite the noise. It was something else, darker and…well…childish. He covered his eyes with his arm, wondering if he could swallow enough pride to… he abruptly sat up; the borrowed yukata opening up slightly with the sudden motion. He quickly fixed the clothing and stood up, walking shakily to the sliding door and opening it quietly.

The sudden boom of thunder made him flinch, and instantly scowl at himself in disgust as he stood a little straighter and walk down the hallway, bronze eyes flickering to the side in an ingrained instinct from the Winter War to make sure he wouldn't get surprised. He paused before a familiar sliding door and raised a fist to the panel, pausing and lowering it.

Could he really bother the man for something so childish? Granted, the man understood, seeing the same horrors as he himself had and didn't ask him those same questions of: 'are you alright?' 'do you want to talk about it?' He shook his head and knocked before he lost his nerve.

The sliding door opened, and a half asleep Urahara blinked drowsily at him, one hand threading through dishevelled blond strands. "Kurosaki-kun…?" He yawned. "What are you doing up?"

Suddenly, the reason seemed extremely foolish, and the thought of telling him why he was standing in front of him, in a too big crimson yukata looking like a child seemed too mortifying. But he squared his shoulders, looking to the side before mumbling almost inaudibly. "I…I had a…uh, nightmare."

He could feel grey eyes burn the side of his face, or it could be the blush, who knew? And finally, the shopkeeper nodded, moving aside from his door and waved, the other hand covering his mouth as he yawned again. "Come on, Kurosaki-kun." And Ichigo felt shame at waking him up for a completely selfish reason.

Ichigo shuffled in, cheeks hot as Urahara closed the door and ambling towards the rumpled futon, gripping the redhead's arm as he went. There weren't any words spoken as the shopkeeper crawled under the covers clumsily, and Ichigo slid in next to him, curling up as the blond wrapped an arm round him, nuzzling orange locks. The weather outside seemed less ominous, and Ichigo curled tighter against the warm body, bronze eyes slipping shut as he heard Urahara's breaths even out.

Sure that the blond was asleep, he whispered softly;

"Thanks."

X.x.X

Urahara was tired, caffeine deprived and cranky.

But still, he sat there with Ichigo's head in his lap, watching the small puddle of blood grow larger with each painful second from under the teen, small smile frozen on his lips as trembling fingers combed erratically through vibrant, ruffled orange tresses. The War had taken a nasty turn, and a little routine mission just had to blow up in their faces. Urahara almost chuckled at that, fingers brushing the teen's cold cheek. Too cold.

Waiting for Unohana or Hanatarou or whoever heard the too calm message for help was just torture, the blond feeling utterly pained at hearing the teen's raspy breaths, laboured a shallow force themselves, dulled brown eyes staring at him emotionlessly. Urahara just rambled, anything and everything to stop them sliding close, not noticing the slight hint of hysteria creeping at the edge of his tone.

Then he felt the flare of Shinigami a mile away, and he cheerfully informed Ichigo to hold on just a few minutes longer, not realizing that the eyes had already closed and the redhead slipping into unconsciousness. Urahara smiled, weakly and falsely as the Shinigami, as help, came closer and murmured something so quietly; Ichigo probably wouldn't have heard it even if he was awake.

"Don't die on me, Ichigo…I need you."

X.x.X

Hospital beds weren't comfortable.

Ichigo was, unfortunately, stuck in a hospital bed.

Of course, he got visited, and Renji threw a paper aeroplane at him (something the tattooed redhead was proud to have made since his past attempts were a spectacular failure). But the one visit he treasured most was from the blond shopkeeper who snuck in after hours, grin in place and a small plaster on his cheek where a shallow nick was. The blond was supposed to be in his hospital bed as well, since he took a blade to the chest, but the ex-Shinigami Captain was not one to be stationary for too long.

Ichigo would admonish him, saying that he should be resting up but then Urahara would say that if the teen could walk, he'd do the same, and so a truce was drawn up.

They did nothing, sitting quietly and not saying a word after the almost mandatory argument, the blond falling asleep on the bed, face pillowed in pale arms and bent at an awkward angle, which probably wasn't healthy for the gaping wound in his chest. Ichigo would stay up for a few more hours, fingers fiddling with blond strands as he kept an ear out for any 4th Division members, brows furrowing as he repeated the words that he did every night since they were taken to the infirmary.

"It wasn't your fault, y'know."

X.x.X

It was a quiet night.

Ichigo could only think that, pressed against the door with hungry lips on his own, hands slipping into his haori as he groaned, arching against the warmer body as fingers danced along the jagged scar, still red and tender, winding from his left hip across his stomach, teasing and gentle.

It was still quiet, punctuated by soft grunts and gasps, and Ichigo squirmed, feeling a calloused hand massage the bulge between his legs. He wanted it, wanted it so bad this heat and he whimpered out the shopkeeper's name breathlessly, the blond's breath hitching briefly.

They both needed…this, whatever this was, Ichigo allowing the blond to lead as he moaned again and again into the mouth, never feeling this good in his whole life. But all too soon, it was over, Urahara moving away with hooded eyes, breaths sharp and shallow as he murmured; "I apologise…I didn't mean to overstep my bounds."

Then Ichigo was left against the door, panting and dazed as the blond quickly left, fingers touching his swollen lips. He felt a gnawing hunger, the soothing presence of the man already sorely missed. Was this what their platonic relationship had changed to? Granted, sometimes it was closer then a platonic relationship but…

"You never did anything I didn't want…"

X.x.X

"You've been avoiding me."

Urahara almost cringed, grey eyes sliding to the side from under the brim of his hat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kurosaki-kun." The shopkeeper stiffened when the redhead placed a hand on his thigh, pushing some weight on it as he hovered an inch from his face. "Kurosaki-kun…"

"Don't." The single word was whispered, brown eyes narrowed and sharp as Ichigo tilted his head to the side, lips brushing against the blond's as he spoke. "I'm tired of this…"

Urahara couldn't tell what Ichigo was referring to, the game that they had been playing or the war. "Kurosaki-kun, yesterday wa-"

"Was not a mistake and don't you dare say it was." Ichigo's other hand knocked the hat off, tangling in blond strands as he took in a deep breath, anger mixing with an unknown emotion. "Don't…just, just don't." A shuddering breath, quick and strained, drew in. "Don't."

And Urahara didn't say anything else, he just placed his shaking hands on the redhead's shoulders and then they were pressed close, lips sliding and teeth biting with a desperate need, Ichigo being pushed against the tatami mats as clothes were shed, practically ripped off as their bodies writhed and moved against each other.

Then they were naked, and all Urahara could think of was where was the lube? But that didn't matter because there wasn't any time to go on a hunt, the redhead under him gasping, gone with the lust as glazed brown eyes begged for more and more. And Urahara could barely breathe, the pleasure too much for him, jerking his hips against Ichigo's wantonly.

"Kisuke!" His name sounded good from those lips. "More, oh god, more!" Legs parted, lewd blush on tanned cheeks. "K-Kisuuuke!"

Urahara wasn't any better, moaning in the teen's ear, eyes closed as the pressure in his groin built to unbearable levels. He gasped, moaning when the pressure contracted, arching against the slighter body. He heard an answering cry, lush and raucous from the younger male's throat as they came together and collapsed, panting heavily as their limbs trembled from the quick orgasm.

Ichigo was close to sleeping, despite the coarse tatami mat pressing uncomfortably against his back. The warmth from the blond, and the fatigue from all the drama and the fighting and the orgasm just shutting his mind down, but before he drifted off, he felt Urahara brush his lips against his earlobe, a soft hum; "Ichigo…?"

"Hmm…?"

There was long pause, and Ichigo started to drift off again. It was only just before he fell asleep, the voice muted to his ears that his lips curved up in a contented smile from his perpetual scowl.

"…I love you…"

Urahara jerked in surprise when Ichigo answered, though drowsy and barely coherent.

"I love you too…idiot."

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A/N: Gah. So bad…

Never again will I post up half hour nervous ficcies D:

Hope y'all enjoyed!