SPOILER ALERT! This fic takes place in the Blood War arc, somewhere around chapter 537. So it is advisable to read that first. This fic doesn't totally fit like a glove with ch538, but remember what Spongebob said about imagination. This is also a sequel to the multi-chapter fic, 'What're you thinking?' which I, um, haven't actually finished writing yet. Blasphemous, I know. (Oh, you can just read chapter 5 if you can't be bothered to read the whole thing, or read it after you read this fic, or not read that fic at all, up to you). A reader told me, I wonder what's gonna happen with Ishida in Bleach, so of course I had to get myself updated. And of course, I got totally worked up and decided that I must churn out a fic before Ishida makes his next appearance in the manga. Even if there are a 'few' other fics that I haven't written yet. Who am I to look the inspiration fairy's gift horse in the mouth?
Summary: humour, drama, angst, sex in dark deserted streets, fluff, yaoi a la carte!
Sleep
He had not slept well in such a long time.
His father's words were ringing in his ears.
He carried the weight of the devastation that had fallen upon Soul Society, with Seireitei at the epicenter struggling to rebuild itself almost from scratch.
He carried the weight of countless lives lost because of the inadequacy of his strength, because of all the things that he had not known.
He carried the weight of a zanpakuto that had turned into a stranger.
The bind between his and Ishida's families had, in the blink of an eye, became a radial in an intricate web that stretched far beyond what he could imagine.
Making his way down the deserted street, walking through the pale circles of light cast onto the path by the street lamps, the responsibility he shouldered had never made him feel so alone.
"I know that look."
A few feet away, a lithe figure came out of the shadows like an apparition.
Sharp, enigmatic eyes glinted a familiar sapphire behind silver spectacles, and Ichigo could not help but gape.
"Ishida?"
"That look says, everybody is depending on me, and if I screw this up then I can never forgive myself," the Quincy continued coolly.
"I haven't seen you or heard from you for over a month. Don't pull that on me," Ichigo warily retorted.
Unperturbed, Ishida reached up and smacked him on the head. "Let me remind you, Kurosaki Ichigo. You're a substitute shinigami with a block of wood of a brain who has the entire Seireitei lined up in front of him to beg him for help. They are not going to send you out there on your own, and you are not going to fail. I can't believe you're stupid enough to lose sleep over this."
Ichigo smiled a little. "You can tell?"
Ishida raised an incredulous eyebrow.
"Stop worrying," the archer insisted. "You did what you could to save Seireitei. Be proud of that."
"How did you know?"
"Urahara-san kept me updated –mind you, not that I had any choice in the matter."
"Really?"
"Don't you really me. If my phone explodes from all the calls and messages he keeps sending, you're going to be the one buying me a replacement."
They were both silent for a while, and then Ichigo quietly said, "Why don't you come with me? Now that this isn't about saving Hueco Mundo anymore."
Ishida looked away. "There is something that I need to do. And the same goes for you. Let's just leave it at that."
"We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other."
"And you are supposed to trust me."
Ichigo was about to protest, but he fell quiet when he saw the fire in the archer's eyes.
Ishida stepped towards him, and cradling his head in his hands he pressed their lips together in the slowest of kisses.
"I love you, Ichigo," he whispered fiercely, "just remember that, no matter what happens. Please."
"What? What do you mean? What's going to happen?"
Ishida shook his head and ran a warm thumb across Ichigo's lips. He was right there, standing right in front of him and close enough to hold, but at that moment Ichigo ached terribly because he missed him –missed them –so, so much.
Ichigo grabbed his arm, and in a half-run he pressed the archer into the shadows against the nearest wall.
"There is no time for this," Ishida chided, but Ichigo had never heard such a half-hearted reprimand and paid it no heed.
He swept his tongue into the archer's mouth, swallowed his soft groans of appreciation while his hands found their way to his hips.
He nibbled and sucked his way along his jaw line, down his neck, paying extra attention to that spot that would make Ishida gasp and buck against him.
He rubbed and tweaked Ishida's nipple through his shirt and greedily drank up his whimpers.
Ishida's body had never been good at lying to him, and one by one he drew out his partner's responses like an artist who had fallen hopelessly in love with painting.
Ichigo remembered the endless hours that they had spent together, hidden amongst the tall grasses beside the waterfall that Ishida used not-so-exclusively for training, or gloriously naked beneath the sheets in Ichigo's bed (he liked this better than anything else, and Ishida of all people always laughed at him for being old-fashioned).
He dropped to his knees, palming the hardness between Ishida's legs before he unzipped his trousers and gently pulled his lover's cock out of his boxers.
They were both impatient, so Ichigo engulfed him, kneading his balls with one hand, letting himself be mesmerized by the unearthly beauty of Ishida's flushed, blissful face, trying to learn the melody of Ishida's cries by heart.
Soon the archer was trembling, shutting his eyes tight, biting back a shout of pleasure like he always did when Ichigo took him tumbling over the edge.
Then it was Ishida's turn to kneel down, and they both smiled when Ishida recognized the underwear that he had embellished with a hand-stitched Quincy cross as one-half of his birthday present to the shinigami (the other half naturally involved the systematic removal of clothing).
He slipped his fingers into the cool softness of Ishida's dark hair, massaging his scalp in encouragement.
Ishida watched him all the while, and the look in his eyes was as much adoration as it was arousal.
"Uryuu," Ichigo murmured reverently, and the archer gently squeezed his thigh by way of response.
The first time they had done this, Ichigo spent two hours with a bag of frozen peas between his legs, two days trying to console Ishida with the old 'it happens to everybody' line, and two weeks telling Ishida to stop wincing every time he looks at him.
The second time, Ishida had done such a good job that Ichigo suspected he had been doing some kind of training.
Then there had been many times after that –on lazy Sunday mornings, afterschool, during school, when they were supposed to be staying angry at each other, at Ishida's apartment, at Ichigo's house, in disused buildings, behind trees in the park, after they had fought Hollows side by side.
It was not just the sex or how sex became his best weapon against Ishida's nonstop, callous verbal attacks –but how they would lay there together afterwards as if they had all the time in the world, how Ishida would doze against him with his cheeks lightly flushed and hair beautifully disheveled.
Ishida pulled back to tease with his tongue and a little teeth, and then he once again took him in deep, squeezing the base of his shaft and his testis with his nimble fingers. He started to hum a tune, the vibrations coaxing him towards his climax.
Not long after that Ichigo was crying out the Quincy's name as he came, keeping his eyes open so that he could look for that little frown of concentration that Ishida always wore when he when he was swallowing down his release.
Ishida nuzzled the palm against his cheek before he stood, helping Ichigo with his zipper because he knew that after coming he was only a little better than useless.
Pulling him close Ichigo kissed him, dancing his tongue around Ishida's, probing those ticklish spots in his mouth so that he could feel Ishida's muffled laughter reverberating inside him like the warmest fire.
Then lowering his head to the side of Ishida's face where his fringe was swept back, Ichigo kissed him on the ear with the words, 'I love you', sending the message down his eardrums and into his bloodstream so that it might reach his heart and become a part of him.
"You are so strange," Ishida whispered back, as if their time had begun all over again.
Closing his eyes Ichigo desperately breathed in his scent, reminding himself of the curve of Ishida's back with his hands, of the shape of Ishida's body when it was melded completely against his own like water.
This moment would become a versicoloured memory amongst all of the others that he would constantly, obsessively relive in the long days that were soon to come.
He felt Ishida's breath ghosting over his skin as he quietly said, "I have to go."
"It's too soon," he grimly returned.
"Remember what I said, Ichigo. Because when the time comes, I will need it more than you."
Ishida pressed a lingering kiss into the crook of his neck, yet another upon his pleading mouth, before he pulled himself away.
Slowly, Ichigo opened his eyes. His empty hands were heavy with warmth, as if he had only just woken from the deepest sleep.
The wind sung, the shadows danced along the empty street, and Ichigo walked on.
Fin.