Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.

I have fun writing Unohana. She's like Captain Mom.

_XxX_

Renji's eyes would have widened considerably if he were able to see, but as he could not, his eyebrows rocketed up. The gesture played a funny trick on the tattoos on his brow, scrunching them up in the small movement. Matsumoto was constantly trying to smooth them out when he did, only stopping when Renji groaned and hid behind Hisagi. His fingers began to drum against the sheets once again, mind whirling to find something – anything – to say to the nobleman.

"I'm… alright, Kuchiki-Taicho. Thanks…"

Renji hesitated and blanked at the same time. What the hell could he say? Thanks for staying by my bedside, no idea you actually saw me as a person, but I'm flattered all the same? That would end his just saved life, and he didn't fancy taking on Senbonzakura again. He had expected Rukia to be the one by his side, and she had up until her deployment. What he did not expect was her brother, his taicho, to take up her mantle at his side.

Rukia must have had something to do with the older man staying close by him, but he still felt an undefinable warm tingling creep up his body.

"… fer askin," he said lamely, rough street accent now evident in his voice.

Renji had tried, all though his Shinigami Academy days, to loose the rough slurring in his voice that he had spoken with all his life. It was a side effect of growing up on the street, and it seemed that Rukia was one of the few immune to it. His attempts were originally in vain, until Rukia sat him down and taught him. But that was before the Kuchiki clan even came into the picture to adopt her, back when Rukia was still nee-chan and Renji was still immature and petulant. And then the Kuchiki clan whisked her away into a life of nobility, leaving Renji all alone once again. If anything, it just made him more determined to loose his rough street accent.

"Ah…ano…how are you, Taicho?" he asked.

He only really reverted back to his street accent when he was stressed or surprised. He usually had much better reign over it, but he was understandably frazzled.

"Well enough," came his curt reply.

Byakuya eyed the redhead fro the seat, carefully cataloguing the changes in his appearance. His flesh had turned to a faint tanned colour from the grey-white it had been, and he could see healthy flush of colour still returning. His vibrant crimson hair was now tied into a long braid, resting over his shoulder and tied with what Byakuya recognised as Hinamori-fukutaichou's ribbon. His crimson bangs fell over the fresh white bandages around his eyes, forehead uncovered.

Byakuya could see the almost healed scar just above his temple, the pale knitted line slowly fading. He traced the scar with his eyes, noting how it curved slightly in towards his eyes before it disappearing behind the bandage. Renji's once pale, almost cyanotic lips were now a healthy pale pink and, to Byakuya's astonishment, sticking out in an almost pout.

His eyes were drawn to those lips, which were fuller than his own, as they desperately tried to form words that died in the redhead's throat. Byakuya's eyes widened considerably as Renji's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. It looked almost lascivious, the way his pink tongue laved over his pouty bottom lip, sending a crackling bolt of heat down his spine and into his stomach. Byakuya tore his eyes away from the redhead completely, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks, suddenly glad that his fukutaichou was, for all intensive purposes, blind.

When Byakuya did look back to Renji, he focused on the fukutaichou's hands. They were larger than his own and much rougher looking, still drumming against the bed in thought. Byakuya had to still the sudden urge to still them with his own hands, considering how to stop the nervous tick the redhead had. His brow furrowed as he felt that pulling sensation in the back of his mind, the same one that coaxed him into touching Renji while he was comatose.

Byakuya actually found his hand hesitating half way between himself and the prone redhead, before forcibly dragging it back to his side.

"When will you be released?" Byakuya asked.

He had spoken before he was really aware he had, desperate to do anything to stem the urge to touch Renji. The Sixth barracks had been like a ghost town, or perhaps more accurately, a funeral, for the last week. Byakuya had never realised how uneventful it was without the redhead, and how much vibrancy he bought to the other squad members. And in that short amount of time, Byakuya almost, just almost, missed his rowdy fukutaichou.

"As soon as tomorra. Unohana-Taicho says I haveta have full-time care, tho," Renji said quickly.

Renji silently cursed himself for reverting back to street slang in the presence of the nobleman. He was usually somewhat relaxed with the older man; more so now that the nobleman had re-established his relationship with Rukia after the Winter War. And now, the taicho was beginning to make him nervous with the personal questions. It was something eh would have easily passed along to Hisagi or Momo, but for the Kuchiki, it was fairly personal.

Unohana had told him, quite firmly, that she would not release him with the signature of someone who would care for him around the clock. She went further, telling him that if he disobeyed her, she would release him to the Eleventh division, more specifically, into the direct care of one Zaraki Kenpachi. Renji hastily agreed. And made a mental note to ask Isane if her taicho was bi-polar.

"Is there not someone who can care for you, Abarai?" Byakuya asked, confusion evident in his voice.

There were many people who were close to his fukutaichou, so much so that they disobeyed a direct order from him. Surely they would be more than able to care for the injured shinigami.

"Ah, not really, Taicho. Hisagi-sempai has to run his Division, and so does Kira. I don' wanna put more strain on Hinamori-kun either, she's still delicate. Matsumoto has drills this week, thank the Gods, and I refuse to take the standing offer from the Thirteenth division. I want to live," Renji told him, the last part with a shudder.

Byakuya could not blame him for the aversion to the Thirteenth barracks. They were more than a capable division, but not adequate to care for the injured. Byakuya would not wish that on anyone, even his enemies. Besides, his fukutaichou was supposed to be recovering, not accumulating more injuries.

Little did Byakuya know, that was Unohana's current threat.

Byakuya felt a frown forming on his brow, his violet-grey eyes narrowing in thought. The fukutaichou really didn't have anyone to care for him in this state. He was going to ask about his family, in a moment of foolishness, before he remembered that the redhead had no family. He didn't really have much choice other than to remain in the Fourth barracks until he was fit for leave.

And that would be a week at the minimum, and if Byakuya knew anything about his fukutaichou, the man would go insane from boredom. Then he would be as destructive as one of the seated officers from Eleventh. It seemed that it would be a long wait to see his fukutaichou back and in working order.

Byakuya felt a tug of something in the redhead's direction. He felt an odd feeling, something akin to obligation, to see through the redhead's recovery. He had spent the last three days in this room, which could easily be considered the worst of it, so the rest of the recovery phase could be considered easy (little did Byakuya know, he would both rue and praise that thought).

Byakuya stopped to mentally weigh the pros and the cons of taking the fukutaichou into his care. After careful examination, the cons heavily outweighed the pros, mostly because of the redhead's personality and his own neurotic schedule-keeping. But then he bought Rukia into the equation, and found that his younger sibling overruled all decisions.

But Rukia was not here, and the young woman could not influence his decision.

"Ah… ano, Taicho?" Renji asked, confusion laced through his voice.

The nobleman had been eerily silent for the last few minutes, and it wasn't helping his frayed nerves. A silent Kuchiki often meant they were plotting something that usually ended with Renji pasted to the floor of the Fourth Barracks while waiting for Hanatarou. And then it ended with him pasted to the floor in Hisagi's apartment to sleep off the alcohol.

Renji was beginning to hate himself, considering he was seriously beginning to ask Yumichika and Ikkaku to release him into the Thirteenth's care.

"You will stay with me, then."

The statement shocked both Renji and Byakuya into a silent stupor. Byakuya had no idea how those words even came out of his mouth. He had originally opened his mouth to wish the redhead a speedy recovery, and remind him that his paperwork would be waiting for him once he regained his sight. He had not intended to offer his home to the fukutaichou, let alone watch over him.

The redhead's mouth gaped a little before he snapped his jaw shut. A small smile slid onto his face, quirking the corners of his lips.

"Aa… thank you, Taicho," Renji said in his husky voice.

Byakuya stood briskly enough to startle Renji even more so than he already was. The redhead nearly launched out of the bed and the heart monitor next to him picked up its pace a little. Byakuya levelled a glare at the prone man, but he was finding it harder than usual to actually muster emotion into the stare. The noble quickly dropped his lacklustre glare, noting how low it was to glare at a blind man, and schooled his features.

"I shall go make arrangements, then," he said, quickly leaving the room.

Byakuya paused outside the redhead's hospital room, sliding the door close behind him. He could see Kotetsu-fukutaichou standing behind the counter to the aid station next to the room, pouring over charts. He leant against the wall and inhaled deeply, tucking away his feelings on how much the redhead actually affected him. He was doing this for Rukia, being overly protective of late to the man, and to cure his aching wrist from doing both their allotted paperwork.

He shook his head and slid over to the counter, preparing to request the paperwork for his fukutaichou's release. Byakuya felt a compulsion he hadn't felt since chasing Rukia into Hueco Mundo, all those months ago. He actually felt something akin to obligation now, forcing him to see through the recovery of the redhead.

But he was only doing this for Rukia.

At least, that's what he told himself.