Shinigami Downtime Maximization Strategies
The nights had gotten cool enough for the hot water to feel good, for the steam to curl off the surface of the bath and make shapes and signs in the air. Ukitake leaned back in the furo, eyes half-closed, watching them form and reform themselves, wondering sleepily if they had a meaning that he could read if only he knew their language. The pale wet ends of his hair moved under the water, mirroring the misty shapes in silent communication, water to air…
"If you fall asleep in the bath and drown yourself, Shiro-san, the rest of us will have to fill in for you, and I for one am deincentivised regarding the additional workload."
Water sloshed over the edge of the tub and a wave smacked Ukitake's chin as Shunsui climbed in and settled himself, groaning comfortably.
Ukitake drew his knees up a little, protesting. "Where did you come from? And may I point out that this is NOT a two-man tub and I was here first…"
Shunsui pushed a flowered pin more firmly into the heavy hair he'd knotted up at the back of his head. "Nonsense, Captain. If you'd stop squirming around like an octopus, you'd see that it's perfectly possible for us to maximize the functionality of this facility. I've had an incredibly fucking dull afternoon attending the Shinigami Women's Association Annual Leadership Training Seminar –complete balls except for the refreshments during the Third-Hour Break-out Session, FYI - and you are very inconsiderately occupying my favourite tub; the least you can do is help reapportion the available resources."
"Available…? Favourite tub? Since when have you had …and I am NOT squirming around like an –"
"You are. A little less fuss, if you please, Captain, and a little more interdivisional co-operation. Think of it as a team-building exercise…" The surface of the water rippled silkily and a leg slid underneath Ukitake's bent knee. "There, you see? You're maximizing already. Just relax."
Ukitake found himself suddenly and neatly rearranged in Shunsui's lap, a position that seemed to permit the man considerably more freedom of movement than Ukitake had anticipated, given his size and the limited confines of the bath. A little more water went over the side.
"Aren't you supposed to be on duty, Captain of the Eighth Division?"
"Tsk. " Shunsui's breath was warm on Ukitake's wet skin, and fingers just a little warmer stroked along the insides of his thighs, coaxing them farther apart, following the shallow swell of muscle upwards. "I've been delegating. Nanao-chan is taking advantage of a temporary leadership opportunity, a situation she's entirely familiar with from long experience and actually quite enjoys. Anyone making inquiries will get a frosty stare and the information that Shunsui Taicho is engaged in an upper-level management consultation with his Thirteenth Division colleague and is not to be interrupted. And in case you're concerned about your own administrative support team, Captain, your little redheaded third-seat was last seen bludgeoning her partner into a coma with her brand-new vocabulary…even those aggressive eyebrows of his looked limp. Everyone else has buggered off for a drink – erm – organized an off-site fact-finding mission. You've got a big, BIG window…in your schedule…mmmmnnnn….and I'm helping you prioritize your…right there, neh?... personal downtime events…"
It was hard enough to follow what Shunsui was saying without the distraction of his lips making their way from Ukitake's shoulder to his throat, and the little circles his tongue was drawing every time he managed to stop talking…
"I know what you're doing, Kyouraku – what I'm not clear about is why it needs all this…jargon…"
"I'm communicating. Good communication is essential for efficiency…and company morale..." Shunsui's hands closed around his partner's hips, tightening. "You're doing that octopus-thing again, you know…but I find it very much more motivating at this juncture, so just…like that, yes…it's all about working together towards a mutual goal, Shiro-saaaaan…"
Ukitake gave up even trying to listen; the language meant less to him than the steam-signs twisting and drifting around them. What he needed to be told, to tell, was happening between the words as it always had, in the breaths and intervals, where air and water and fire touched.
The Shinigami Women's Association had a great deal to answer for, and he'd have to send them a memo on the subject – later.