"I don't think I can do this anymore," grumbles Ichigo into the crease of his open textbook. "It feels like my brain is about to turn into mush and slide out of my ears..."
"Surely you aren't considering giving up this close to exams. There are only three days left to cram."
He raises his head just enough to peer at Ishida with one eye since a page is stuck over the other one. Although Ichigo never imagined he would say it, studying might be harder than any other kind of training he has ever done. If only because he is much further behind than he anticipated. Well, to be fair he is doing fine compared with most students, but the academic elite are another story. It never occurred to him how steep the curve could be between his casual-yet-adept approach and the sheer determination it takes to compete with Ishida's 'perfectionist' type.
"Who else in our class is even this dedicated to their grades?" he demands, slamming the book shut.
"Aside from Inoue-san, Hikaru-kun, and myself, there is Kunieda Ryo, who has consistently held second place since we entered this school. Ogawa Michiru is also a likely contender, though her position occasionally fluctuates."
"Can you stop using his given name already? It bugs me."
"Oh, I hadn't noticed," Ishida mutters in an aloof fashion. He punctuates the sarcastic fib by lifting his head and adjusting his glasses just to get a rise out of him. "If you intend to squeeze your way into such a narrow percentage in a short amount of time, you will be displacing one of the aforementioned students. Given your intellectual range, aiming to out-perform Ogawa is your best bet."
"Are you kidding me? I won't be satisfied until I rank higher than Momoyama."
"While I commend your lofty aspirations, Kurosaki, a certain degree of pragmatism would be beneficial."
"Is that your way of saying I'm too dumb to beat him?"
Shrugging, Ishida turns to a fresh page in his notebook as he replies, "That's my way of saying it's irrelevant. The contest parameters specified only that you must rank in the top five, regardless of his position relative to yours."
Ichigo frowns at this cold logic. Sure, it doesn't technically matter to the game whether Momoyama is proven smarter than him or not, but it would be a bittersweet victory at best. Is it so unreasonable that he would prefer to show Ishida he is superior in as many ways as possible? Especially since he keeps talking to the boy at school in front of Ichigo on a daily basis. Calling him Hikaru-kun though he continues to stick with Ichigo's last name with the lame excuse that it's what he is used to saying.
Plus, he isn't even sure Ishida considers them to be dating yet.
It has been nearly three weeks of studying and spending the vast majority of their free time together. Ichigo temporarily quit his part-time job to open up his schedule. He declines invitations from his friends on the weekends. After school, they go straight to Ishida's place or the library almost every day. Although he can't necessarily say he regrets any of it in the slightest, it would be a nice compensation to have a stronger idea of where he and Ishida stand right now.
They haven't talked about anything since their first date. There has been no flirting or kissing, no romantic contact of any kind. Ichigo knows he brought this on himself. It was his idea to hold off on all that in lieu of focusing on this stupid competition. Fortunately, he can't travel in time or he would have already gone back and punched himself in the face for ever suggesting it. The only good thing to come of this arrangement so far is the time Ichigo has spent with his friend, despite most of it involving oodles of reading and scarce discussion.
"No, I'm not giving up. But I am calling it quits for the night. Doesn't the library close soon anyway?"
"We have this conference room booked for another hour and I intend to make the most of it."
Another hour Ichigo could utilize by staring at the parts of Ishida he wants to taste. Lately he has had a strange fascination with the boy's hands. Wrists so delicate and slender, but somehow powerful and nimble. He gets the strongest urge to catch one and press his lips to the pulse point just above a smooth palm. Ishida's fingers dexterously readjust on the pen he is using to jot down notes from a history book. Neatly trimmed nails adorn the long digits, making Ichigo daydream about him filing them. Maybe with his fringe clipped back out of the way, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he tidies the edge just right.
How can something so tediously domestic be such a turn-on?
"I think I'll go," he abruptly tells Ishida. "It's too hot in here."
"It is perfectly temperate and you don't need an excuse to flee. You've been working very diligently, after all." The comment has him regarding Ichigo thoughtfully. A slow smirk spreads and he adds, "In fact, I think you deserve a small reward for your hard work."
"Yeah? I could really go for some ramen."
"I had something else in mind," Ishida dissents as he walks to his side of the table. "Stand up."
Raising a curious eyebrow, Ichigo pushes his chair back from the wide table and rises as directed. Ishida roughly pushes him to perch on the table's surface. Then he promptly props his knees on either side of Ichigo's thighs to sit on his lap and kiss him with singular purpose. That purpose being to erase the irritation and exhaustion caused by hours of debilitating world history and Japanese literature lessons from his mind.
Ishida nips his lip to insist entrance. His tongue eagerly engages Ichigo's for a lengthy bout of making out. Fingers push into his messy hair, gripping tightly to tilt his head back and allow Ishida a better angle. A quiet moan precedes Ichigo's instinctive grip on the boy's back to steady him. One of Ishida's hands guides his to reach lower, curling over the firm curve of his ass. Ichigo gives a tentative squeeze and revels in the audible response. He moves the other hand down and does it again, making Ishida buck against him.
The thought that they really shouldn't be doing this kind of activity in a public space—private room in the library or not—eventually dawns on him. Right about the moment Ishida starts unbuttoning the top of his shirt, bending down to kiss at the arched column of his throat and the exposed plane of his chest, he thinks they should really stop before it gets worse. Ichigo gasps when a hand touches his belt and Ishida dismounts to undo it easier. Ichigo plants his arms to the table behind to keep himself upright.
"Wait," he breathlessly tries. "This isn't really...I mean, this place is..."
Unconcerned, he nudges in close between Ichigo's parted legs and asks, "Did you happen to bring the supplies I made you buy? In your bag, maybe?"
"What? Of course not!"
"Pity."
The zip of his slacks is unceremoniously yanked down and Ishida wastes no time reaching inside to rub lightly over Ichigo's erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. While Ichigo struggles not to choke on his own tongue, Ishida is using his to lap at the ridge of a jaw line. His hand dips under the elastic to grip him properly with slow strokes.
"Oh, holy fuck, that feels...so damn good, Uryuu," he rambles with a hitch in his voice, "Nnnh...But what if someone hears us?"
"Try to be quiet, then," is the succinct response before he leans in to reinitiate a searing kiss.
Ishida doesn't hold back in the slightest. He practically assaults Ichigo with teeth, tongue, lips, and hands. It is more than a little baffling how Ishida seems to know every single move to destroy any semblance of resistance in record time. What, has he been reading some How to Seduce a Shinigami manual? Or is he just that easy to read? Ichigo wants to touch him, too, but his arms are already shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Breathing gone ragged, he has no choice but to break the kiss. Ishida simply returns to his chest instead. It leaves Ichigo's mouth free and he is having far too much trouble biting back his moans.
Lips encircle a nipple and suck the same moment that Ishida tightens his grip and speeds up the pace. Ichigo jerks a fist up just in time to stifle a cry, forcing him to lean on a single elbow. Taking advantage of the new expanse to explore, Ishida starts licking a thick line down the center of his belly, drawing alarmingly close to—
Suddenly Momoyama's wicked confession in the bathroom over a month ago comes back to him. What if I said I'm gonna get him to suck me off, my fingers tugging at his shiny black hair, so I can come all over his pretty face? He distinctly remembers having so much disdain for the type of person who would take pleasure in another's humiliation. The very last thing he wants is to do anything demeaning like that to Ishida.
"Don't," Ichigo snaps in a mild panic the instant before Ishida's mouth reaches its ultimate destination. He shows a concerned expression but doesn't retreat. "I-I just...I'm close and I didn't want to, uh..."
Smiling softly, Ishida nods. "I see. Your consideration is appreciated, but unnecessary. Making a mess in the library simply won't do."
"No, that's not—"
"Besides," he continues with a thrilling twist of his wrist to halt more complaints, "I've been wondering about...how you taste, Ichigo."
With him rendered speechless from lust, even if that shameless line is a deliberate cliché, the debate is ended by default. Ishida plucks off his glasses to deftly fold and set aside on the table. He pushes his fringe behind an ear and pulls up the chair with poise to sit comfortably as he ducks in to suck him down. A stuttered string of curses erupts from Ichigo's unguarded mouth and his back hits the table at last, only to arch off it a few moments later.
Yelling as he comes, Ichigo dimly marvels at the way Ishida stays right where he is throughout. True to his word, he doesn't allow a hint of a mess on the conference room floor. He pulls Ichigo up by his shirt flaps and buttons it up for him. Maybe he was planning to fix his pants, too, but Ishida doesn't get the chance as he is swept into a fierce hug and kissed all over his face.
"Uryuu," he moans against the boy's shoulder, "Let me return the favor? I want—"
"We should go."
"What happened to using the full hour? You're hard, too, aren't you?"
Tense shoulders relax when he glances down to confirm that yes, Ishida is definitely interested in proceedings. Imagining sinking to his knees right then and there to create the same sort of pleasure Ichigo just enjoyed has his mouth watering in anticipation. A hand to his cheek brings his gaze back to Ishida's.
"That sounds lovely, but two things are wrong with that scenario: first, you were very loud just now and while I'm flattered that you think so highly of my lingual abilities, we will be interrupted by library staff any moment now."
"Shit," he grunts, straightening his slacks and combing through his wild hair. "Second?"
"Second, this was meant to be a token of encouragement for you, Ichigo."
"Okay, but that doesn't mean you can't also—"
The door bursts open and a pair of harried librarians pause in the doorway upon sighting the two of them lingering so close together. They immediately separate, collecting their scattered possessions and dropping them into school bags. Ichigo swipes the glasses from the table and hands them over with a private smile that Ishida returns.
"We were just leaving," he tells them as he slips on the specs. "Apologies for the noise."
Ichigo grins at the confused women as he follows Ishida past them into the hall, through the main atrium, and out of the library entirely. Laughter trickles out of him as soon as they descend the structure's staircase. Ishida huffs and shakes his head with a persistent smirk. Their good humor continues all the way to Ichigo's house.
"Those librarians will never look at us the same way again," chuckles Ichigo.
"They were just jealous they don't have a handsome ginger to enjoy."
"More like they've never seen prettier eyes on a man before. Seriously, promise you'll never get contacts or there will be no end to the people lining up to get with you."
"Shut up," Ishida mumbles with a quick roll of his 'pretty' eyes. "In that case, you're no longer allowed to take off your shirt in public."
"Pants are okay, though?"
"Absolutely not."
"Shoes and socks?"
"Hmm, better not chance it."
"Should I wear one of those burka things, just to be safe? Or a full suit of armor?"
"If you have one handy."
"I'll get right on that," sniggers Ichigo, at his limit for this goofiness, "As soon as you start wearing those giant sunglasses that take up half your face."
"Oh, I have a pair at home that should do the trick."
The conversation devolves into a chuckling fit as they picture each other wearing the ridiculous articles. Ichigo's home swerves into view around a corner, sobering them up. He draws Ishida to a stop on the opposite corner with his hands in both of Ichigo's. They regard each other solemnly for a long moment.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to let me take you home right now and pick up where we left off?"
"I think we shouldn't see each other until after exams."
"What?" Ichigo hisses, dropping the boy's hands in shock. "Why, all of a sudden...?"
To assuage his fears, Ishida steps forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Because you have to win this bet, Ichigo. You have to rank high and get into the university you really deserve rather than settling for second-rate. Having me around after what we just did at the library will interrupt your concentration. Anyway, it's only a few days—"
"That's a fucking lifetime to me, Uryuu. I don't want to separate for three minutes, much less three days! Don't you think me pining for you is more of a distraction?"
"Don't be melodramatic," he scoffs, turning his head away to let a convenient wash of hair hide his expression. Ichigo sets fingertips to his chin to turn it back and meet a troubled gaze.
"It's true. More and more often, I can't bear to be apart because...I love you."
"What did I just say?" snaps Ishida. He knocks the hand from his jaw and scowls. "How can you say something like that to me? We've barely breached the realm of a romantic relationship!"
"I've known you for years. I trust you with my life—my very soul, now I think about it. I want you like I've never wanted anyone before." Looking unimpressed, Ishida crosses his arms over his chest and purses his lips. Ichigo sighs. "It's more than any of that, though. It's missing you when you're not there. Wondering what you're up to at any given moment. Thinking you'd like a song I heard on the radio the other day. Remembering lines from your favorite books that I read to understand you better."
"Stop," he murmurs with eyes lowered.
"You turn my thoughts to lame poetry I'm too embarrassed to recite. I see the color black and think of your hair, how soft it feels between my fingers. Smelling coffee makes me think of the way you always breathe it in before taking a sip, like a subconscious ritual. I can't pass a convenience store without recalling the way you laughed at my fumbling attempts at adulthood until you cried a little."
"I said stop talking, Kurosaki," barks Ishida. Eyebrows furrowed in anger rise high when his shoulders are tightly gripped.
"Please don't call me that anymore. It's like a punch to the gut every time you do."
Then Ichigo pulls him in for a passionate kiss, one he pours all of his emotion into. Tension drains from Ishida's stiff form until he is molding to fit warmly against Ichigo's body. He returns the embrace and kisses back just as intently, just as desperately. Until Ishida shoves him away and disappears between one blink and the next.
The classroom door squeaks quietly as it is slid open too slowly. It stops halfway, requiring an extra push to allow anyone through. Ichigo doesn't quite have the spirit for his usual energetic entrance today since he has just spent the entire weekend cramming. Worse, he has spent those days entirely too Ishida-less for his liking. He walks into the classroom on-edge, hopped-up on caffeine to compensate for a lack of sleep. One glimpse of a familiar outline and Ichigo is twitching at the mere sight of him sitting beside the transfer student.
His jaw clenches painfully when he realizes they are talking to each other.
It takes a lot to walk over to his desk and mind his own business but it would take a lot more to confront them about it. By now Ichigo is basically running on fumes and he needs the last of his reserves to get through these exams. The teacher strides in as he wearily pulls a pencil from his bag, scrubbing a hand over his face. Minutes later, the test pages are placed on his desk and Ichigo breathes out a long sigh while he writes his name. A glance at the clock towards the front of the room has him catching Ishida sneaking a look. Their eyes meet for an instant, too quick for anything to be exchanged, but it is enough to rekindle a much-needed boost of determination.
The questions are answered surprisingly easily. Not that he tends to have trouble with these things but this is just weird. One after another, Ichigo marks what he knows to be the correct choice. He finishes well before most of his classmates, even going back to check over his work for the hell of it. It's too soon to feel confident, though; they won't get the results back until tomorrow at the earliest. In the meantime, he can go back to brooding about Ishida.
Which is exactly what Ichigo does during lunch. He takes to pacing the halls when he can't get his mind off the boy. Apparently some part of him is tracking Ishida on a subconscious level, because he winds up passing a classroom in time to hear a snippet of conversation spoken by his voice. The door is slightly ajar and if Ichigo leans just so he can make out two shapes within.
"I don't understand. Is this about the archery contest? I only agreed to it because Kurosaki seems like the type to keep pestering until he gets his way."
"No, Momoyama-kun, it's not that."
Ichigo sucks in a startled hiss at the sound of that name. Is this really what it appears to be? He scoots closer, keeping close to the wall and dimming his reiatsu to avoid detection. Privy to their profiles, he sees Ishida shake his head and Momoyama frown.
"Then why do you never seem to have any free time these days? Are you telling me we still can't hang out now that the most important exams are out of the way?"
"Unfortunately, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."
A long silence follows that declaration. Then, "No. I won't accept that."
"I apologize for any discomfort but—"
"'Discomfort'?" Momoyama scoffs, expression turning sour. "Try 'agony'! You're turning me down over that loser? I thought you were smarter than that."
"This has nothing to do with Kurosaki. My intentions with you were purely platonic from the beginning, as I thought I made clear after the first time you solicited me." Gearing up to argue further, Momoyama is cut off before he gets a chance when Ishida adds, "And by the way, you threw away a golden chance by alienating 'that loser' without giving him a chance. There are rare friends in this world who will always be there for you, unconditionally, and he is one of very few such gems."
An embarrassing swell of emotion has Ichigo shutting his eyes against it. Never in his wildest dreams has he imagined a scenario where Ishida would defend him to someone, much less an interesting new buddy. Not just that, but it seems he really is rejecting Momoyama for good. Ichigo can only take that to mean he is serious about strengthening their relationship after all, despite his insistence that they aren't yet ready to start using the 'L word'. That was probably a recklessly hasty admission, in retrospect, and he can't blame Ishida for reacting the way he did.
Attention returning to the duo at the sound of shuffling, he peers in to see Momoyama grab his arm as he tries to leave. The jilted egomaniac shoves Ishida backwards to keep him from escaping. Witnessing the rough handling has Ichigo tensing to bolt in and start swinging. If ever there was an excuse to make this rivalry physical...But the thought that Ishida doesn't need—and wouldn't appreciate—anyone trying to rescue him has Ichigo hesitating.
"It won't be that easy, Ishida-kun," threatens Momoyama. "Think you get to tease me and then run off without putting out? I want compensation for the time I put in!"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Suck me off. Right now."
"Oh, is that all?"
The icy response sends a shiver down Ichigo's spine because he knows that tone, knows the steely hue his eyes must have turned to match. He has pissed Ishida off enough times to recognize the dangerous mood without difficulty. And he knows exactly what is bound to happen next. Ichigo grins.
"No, I want..." Licking his lips, Momoyama's gaze trails his body. He grabs Ishida and pins him against the wall. "I want to fuck you, too. It's the least you could do after stringing me along like this. You owe me that much. If you don't, I'll attack Kurosa—Guh!"
Striking faster than mortal eyes could hope to follow, Ishida delivers a fierce combination of precise blows that knocks Momoyama into three separate pieces of furniture before he finally hits the ground in a limp crumple with a pathetic wail. Ishida tilts his head thoughtfully at his handiwork. He flips the felled villain over with the toe of his shoe and leans over to speak in a chillingly hollow tone.
"How do you expect to match the Kurosaki Ichigo when you can't even best the class nerd? I warned you not to underestimate him, didn't I? Pity no one warned you about me."
Ishida steps over him at that. Stunned by what he just saw, Ichigo doesn't have the foresight to flee the scene. The door is slid the rest of the way open and blue eyes widen to discover him lurking beyond it. No words are exchanged, but Ichigo offers a roguish smile. One that is returned after a beat. They walk back to class together in a comfortable silence that lasts the rest of the day.