AN: This chapter contains the most intimate/physical scene I've ever written. Wow. I don't know how to do this. It's not smut but...I tried, guys. I tried. I listened to "Too Afraid to Love You" by The Black Keys on repeat while writing this. I'd like to think that song helps set the mood. Oh gosh I am so insecure about this chapter. Don't even look at me. asdfghjkkjhgf
"Haaappy birthdaaay, Hisagiiiii-san~! Happy biiiirthday to yoooooou~!" Rangiku's voice was loud and she was too drunk to care that no one had been singing along with her. She abandoned her post seated next to Karin in favor of sidling next to the fukutaichou she'd serenaded. Playfully wrapping her pink scarf around his shoulders, she led him to the makeshift dance floor. It wasn't much of a dance floor considering it had been crudely arranged by pushing tables aside, but it was enough to get the party going. There were enough shinigami crammed into the banquet hall to make the air heavy and warm and the free-flowing sake didn't help. The tenth's fukutaichou loved any excuse for a good party.
Karin downed the remains of her cup, watching as Hisagi followed the voluptuous fukutaichou around like a charmingly drunk puppy. She wasn't quite far gone enough for that yet, but perhaps she'd get there. It had been a while since she'd gotten truly, carelessly, drunk.
It was when she spotted the flash of alabaster hair that she decided that yes she would definitely get there.
Hitsugaya hadn't been as sold on the idea of a large party as his fukutaichou had been. The summer air pressed down on him and the white noise of music and talking filled his head to the brim. These were not his ideal conditions, but he'd found himself unable to decline Hinamori's invitation. His feelings toward his childhood friend were mixed. For so many years she had been his reason to get stronger, a cornerstone of his life he had never wavered in defending. But there had always been those private moments where the task of protecting her had felt like a monumental weight upon his shoulders. Get stronger. That had always been his answer to the weight. But had it been the right one?
He dutifully sat next to her as she nursed the same cup of sake for an hour. Across from them, Izuru's face had flushed to an astonishing cherry and his words came a little looser. Hinamori laughed prettily along with what he had been saying, as if he wasn't on his way to drinking himself under the table. Her sweetness radiated from her every pore, like an oasis in the desert. The taichou glanced around the raucous room, feeling a kind of monotony creeping in. That was when he spotted her.
She sat in the far corner of the room, partially obscured by the dancing figures. She was alone at her table, curled around a cup of sake. Inky tendrils of hair licked down her back, longer than they'd ever been when she was alive. The distant feeling of floating set in on him, making him queasy.
Hinamori's soft gaze followed his, her eyebrows crinkling when she realized just what had so diverted his attention. Her fingers brushed his hand. They lingered. That weight came suddenly back and he felt it pushing his head beneath the water he'd fought so hard to remain above. The oasis was a mirage.
"What's so interesting, Hitsugaya-kun?" The question was innocuous enough.
He moved his hand from hers, standing to excuse himself. "There's a matter I have to attend to. I'll be back."
When he approached, she didn't even turn around. She just seemed to sense that he was there, "You gonna sit down and have a drink or are you just gonna hover there like a creep?"
She wasn't quite drunk, but she was far from sober. The words had a hint of venom to them, but maybe that was all in his head. He planted himself by her side and allowed her to pour him a cup of sake. It wasn't often that he drank, though the fact that he had matured enough outwardly to match the appearance of a human in their early twenties helped. In the time it took him to drain half of the drink she'd already moved on to a fresh cup.
"So what's driving you to drink?" She questioned, possibly out of social convention.
You. The word stuck in his throat and he washed it down with a burning gulp of sake. When he didn't answer her, she gazed at him with iron eyes. Despite her state of near-intoxication, she still seemed to see too much when she examined his face. His quietness was a nuisance to her, and she felt herself running out of patience for him. A grimace temporarily painted her features as she polished off her cup and poured a new one. The figures dancing behind him blurred in the dim backlight and she couldn't find the will to care that soon enough she could be passed out on the table.
"If you have nothing to say, go do your tortured soul routine somewhere else."
The words stung. If he didn't leave first, she would. The realization sunk into his bones, and he had to do something to stop her. She shifted dangerously in her seat, eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face to escape to. She was ebbing away from him, eroding something in his heart as she went. Vulnerability was a shocking thing.
"I wanted you to have a life."
That froze her. He noticed that her eyes ceased their searching, but she didn't look at him. In one lithe movement, she consumed what was left of her drink. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and he marveled for a moment at her alcohol tolerance. He took her silence as permission to explain himself.
"I wanted you have something that I couldn't fit into." The words were hard to say, and his voice was matter-of-fact. It would be treason against himself to give away just how much he felt. "A life spent living instead of waiting. A career, a home, a family of your own. I wanted you to have normal."
The smack of her palm against his face resonated in his ears, but the rest of the party went on none the wiser. Anger prickled up in his gut. Her temperament was as unpredictable as ever. But it vaguely occurred to him that he was lucky she hadn't punched him.
Her eyes finally met his, and the smallest smirk rested on her lips. "Normal? You should know better." She shook her head slowly and it seemed as if she had trouble finding the words she needed, "…you're not as shitty as I thought. But you're still pretty close."
While his back was turned, she had become a woman. It wasn't just the stubborn commanding presence that she'd always had. It was the subtle things. The maturity that ran beneath the surface, the ownership she had over her own life. She wasn't just the lanky teenage girl who may or may not have had a crush on him anymore. And he hadn't been there for any of those developments.
She looked him over as if trying to convince herself of something he would never comprehend. "Screw it," She sighed the words so that they were barely audible above the din.
A sure hand slipped around his wrist and tugged him away from the table. He was not nearly as drunk as he'd like her to believe, but he followed anyway as they slipped out the back door. A few staggered steps mixed in with her normally smooth gait made him wonder if maybe she wasn't as impervious to intoxication as he had assumed. The door slid shut behind her and the moonlight spilled into the small alley, giving her pale skin a glowing quality.
"Kurosaki, I'm sor-" The apology was chased away from his lips by the sudden warmth of being so close to her. One arm folded around his shoulders, pulling her up to his height. Her other hand found its way to his head, fingers mingling with the soft shock of hair. When her mouth met his, the hunger stunned him into submission. The trace flavor of sake somehow tasted sweeter on her lips. A small gasp escaped her as if she was surprised at herself. Her lips overlapped his, bringing his lower lip into her mouth and sucking on it softly. A new kind of fire erupted in his gut, one that could blaze out of control if she kept fanning the flames like that. If he'd ever thought he was close to understanding what was going on in her head, this was proving him very wrong.
As his arms wrapped around her waist to cinch her in closer, she pulled away. He eyes were at half-mast and her cheeks dusted with a dark shade of pink that could've been the result of desire, or sake. But he heavily preferred the first. She moved to trace her lips lightly along his jaw, ending at his earlobe.
The whispered words weren't exactly what he had wanted to hear, "Sometimes I hate you."
His eyes widened and he lost all hope of ever being able to keep up with her. But then she was back to her ministrations, drawing circles on his back with her fingertips as she coaxed his lips apart again. Why was he letting this happen? His intentions had been to speak to her. Right? Perhaps he was as drunk as she believed he was after all. This was not a possibility he had entertained. At least not in his waking hours—
His hesitance was broken down, and he found his mouth moving along with hers. He molded her against him, the building's back wall their only support. The movements of her tongue, which had been smooth and cautious at first, took a turn for the teasing. She wasn't giving him everything. But he could feel the thudding of her heart against him, and knowing that he was the cause made something burn in his stomach. He caught her lower lip between his and bit at it gently. The small groan she let out gave him some strange satisfaction. Her breath was warm in the cool night and she returned the gesture, biting a little harder than before. This was driving him insane, his thoughts going fuzzier at her every touch. The party sounded miles away and he tugged at the white sash that was knotted around her waist, as if threatening to untie it.
And just like that, she stopped. She pulled away from his reach as if she hadn't just been shaking him to his foundation. As if the distance between them wasn't a cause for the aching in his chest. As if it was effortless.
She put a finger to his lips, "Not like this." And then she was gone, slipping back inside as if nothing had happened. She could tear him down as quickly as she built him up.
After one intense flash of heat, she left him cold.
Cold, but closer.
