I thought this would be a lot quicker to write… :/ For some reason, it took forever to get it right.
But wh'eves. And this one stays a oneshot! I'm not even going to try to have two concurrent full-length stories going.
Renji taps tentatively on the delicate paper door. No response. He slides the door sideways with a soft swish of well-oiled wood.
"Taicho?", he says, sticking his head in. "Sir?"
A soft rustle, nothing else. He hesitates, then enters. The room is simple, with only a bed and a few other orderly furnishings. Despite the lack of abundance, it reeks of wealth and class: everything is in near flawless condition, all dark, smooth wood with a softly glossy shine. Somewhere, deep inside him, the dirty child of district is enthralled, and it wonders what price he could get for them.
"Kuchiki-taicho?", Renji says, as he turns towards the wide expanse of the bedroll in the middle of the room.
Byakuya, which is what Renji calls him in his mind, although he is rarely given leave to call him by his less formal name, lies sprawled across. For once, he isn't pulled together neatly, a stark wall of discipline. His brow is knit with some troublesome emotion, and his skin looks clammy and pale. His shirt is not untied, but loose, and the blankets a hopelessly tangled mess.
The usual black uniform and captain's robe are absent, and he wears only simple, white clothing. Lighter, softer, flimsier clothing.
Renji blinks. He should be…should…. Didn't he have something he had to do? He can't quite remember.
When his mind unscrambles a bit, he clears his throat with as much authority as he can muster.
"Kuchiki-taicho!"
A small "unf" from Byakuya, and he rolls over onto his side languidly.
"Abarai?" the capitan mumbles.
"Ukitake-taicho wanted me to give these to you," Renji says, and flicks the papers he's holding. "A bit urgent. He needs them by tomorrow."
He groans, and closes his eyes. "Isn't that why they have you, Renji?"
"Well, he needs another capitain to read this over and sign off on it, but Kyouraku is nowhere to be found, Mayuri sure as hell won't give it the time, Unohana is…"
"Fine, fine." Byakuya waves a limp hand in defeat, and pulls the sheet over his face in exasperation. "Come back later, at the end of the day," he mumbles. "I'll have them by then."
"Th-Thank you sir. I know you're not exactly in the best of-"
"Renji?"
"Yes, taicho?" Renji winces.
"You may leave." How is it that someone can be sick, speaking from under the covers, and still be so quietly threatening? Renji doesn't know.
"Yes sir." Renji turns respectfully and leaves the elegant room. Don't let the door hit you on your way out, huh? Guess what's how it goes.
Renji returns the mansion as the sun is slowly lowering, just beginning to cast a warm yellow tone onto the delicate house.
He creeps in, vaguely wondering if Rukia might be around. He was thinking of meeting up with Shunhei for drinks later on, and it'd be great to have her along. She needs to get out more often, Rukia. All those clan responsibilities keep her a bit to serious.
Although what Rukia had to deal with was nothing compared to Byakuya's responsibilities, he muses.
The door is open form earlier, and this worries Renji. If it hasn't been closed, Byakuya must've been bedridden all day. This is extremely uncharacteristic him. He hurries in.
Byakuya is asleep, again, and it doesn't look like he was very out and about. In fact, its seems that the usually energetic captain has been bedridden all day. The papers are pushed to the side of the bedroll, finished.
He notices that his head is at an odd angle, neck torqued oddly. He crouches down.
It's the ceremonial headpiece, the graceful white triangular tunnels that seems to be the problem. Renji can't think of a time in recent memory that he's seen the captain without it. It often looks like a permanent fixture on his head, as belonging as an arm or a leg.
Renji stoops down to loosen it from his head. It seems to secure around the back of his head. He fumbles with it, wishing his hands were less clumsy with the tiny latch. Finally, it comes undone, and Renji pulls it away. Some of Byakuya's thick, velvet hair catches, and is splayed across the sheets, as graphic as ink on snow.
Inches away, Byakuya stirs. Renji freezes, and contemplates dying of embarrassment if he's unfortunate enough to be caught like this. But the captain just shifts his neck, this time to a more natural position, and is still once again.
That was close, Renji thinks, and breathes a sigh of relief. He focuses on the delicate face of the man lying so, so very near to him. His face is elegant and graceful: the still beauty of something untouchable and noble. It's a beauty most women would envy, worn on the face of a warrior. It's fucking impossible, he thinks.
Without thinking, Renji draws closer silently. Holding his breath, he draws a reverent finger across the captain's lips. Then, softly, he slips his hand away, and presses his lips softy to the sleeping man's lips. It was very different than kissing a woman, he thinks, but not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all. Renji closes his eyes pensively as he pulls away.
And then he jerks to his senses. You idiot. You complete, utter idiot. What was he doing? This man was his superior! His captain! Not some lewd girl at a bar. Idiot.
He stumbles backwards. In a flurry, he gathers the papers and flees like the room is on fire.
Renji has come to believe that his lieutenant's desk, once merely a dreary part of his job, is in fact some circle of hell.
He has, of course, been obsessing over that stupid little thing that he did. All night, and most of his waking hours today. He's been called an idiot before, and its not like he's ever thought he was particularly smart. But that, he curses silently, is a whole new level of idiotry, Renji.
He flicks his pen anxiously. He can't even look at that stack of paperwork he has to finish. It's absolutely no use until Byakuya shows his face and he can settle his stupid fears.
Footsteps, unrushed and measured. Renji suddenly realizes that he should at least attempt to look productive, and snatches a sheet of paper from the stack.
The thin door slides open, and Byakuya enters. Renji notes that he's still a bit pale and tired looking, but his usual commanding aura is back. His cool eyes survey the room, and Renji gulps and tries to convince himself that the spike in his heartbeat is out of nervousness, nothing else.
"Taicho-san!" Renji says, quite a bit louder than he had intended. He winces.
"Abarai." A short nod.
"I take it you're better then, captain?"
"Yes, I am." His words are scripted and formal, as usual. Strangely enough, this comforts Renji. Having Byakuya as anything other than his usual strict, measured self would allude back to… to that little incident. It's all I can hope for is to have that forgotten, Renji muses.
"You picked up the papers, Abarai?" Renji snaps to attention again.
"Ah yes. I'm sorry, I should have left a note or something."
"Mm. I'm sorry, but there's only so much I can do when he's passed out with a high fever."
"Yeah, you were really out cold. Were you in bed the whole day?"
"Yes," Byakuya says, and actually lets a half smile slip. "Unusual, isn't it?" Renji nods, relief spreading over him. Looks like nothing's up, thank fucking god.
"Actually, I've been sick before, but this time I had the most odd dream."
A sinking, cold feeling. "Odd, sir?"
"Yes." He turns his face away, and no, he's not imagining it, there is actual emotion in his voice. "Odd, but not unpleasant."
Oh, hell. Renji wonders what he's gotten himself into.