THIRTEEN::
The smell of ink was beginning to grow on him. Renji knelt before the cabinet and carefully sorted through the inks, twisting each bottle so they lined up and the colors were easily visible. The black was empty again; Juro had a gang of seven guys in the night before, all wanting thick black chevrons across the backs of their necks.
Juro let him stay to watch, and even though the way the guys stared at him creeped him out a little, Renji had to admit that the process itself was pretty fucking cool. He'd never considered himself a very artistic person, but watching Juro work made his fingers itch to pick up a pen. The tattooist was probably one of the strangest people Renji had ever met (and that really said a lot), and honestly the guy frightened him a little bit. Not the same way Kuchiki-taichou frightened him -that really physical sense of an unease, the certain knowledge that the man really could kill him with a look if he felt up to it – but more like the way Ishida frightened him. There was something deep in Juro that growled while it slept.
With the tattooing pen in his hand, the too-slender, strange man was subsumed and he became something almost...beautiful? Renji rolled his eyes and barely resisted smacking himself in the forehead. Beautiful was not the word, because guys aren't beautiful.
He remembered waking up with Ishida in his bed, the man's eyes closed behind his glasses – those infernal shields of his still in place, even in sleep – and he remembered his reaction to that sight perfectly well. Remembered gently resettling Ishida's glasses on his nose so they sat straight. Remembered watching the man's lips press together and part slowly, his tongue drifting out to moisten them-
Still not beautiful, he grumbled. Cute, maybe...
The back of his neck tingled and Zabimaru chuckled. Liar, the zanpakutou whispered fleetingly and withdrew.
Coward! Renji shot back.
"Stop staring at the empty bottle and go fill it up," Smith growled, interrupting the long conversation Renji had been having with himself.
Renji flushed what he was sure was an unattractive shade of red, and hurried to his feet. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with some flippant response, but Smith was giving him a look. Smith had a lot of looks; he communicated more with looks than with words. This particular look said "I'm in a bad mood, you're an easy target and I don't have a boss or any customers to distract me right now, so you better get of my sight before I do something drastic that might involve broken mirrors."
In another couple hundred years, he might just be able to have a look conversation with Kuchiki-taichou.
Renji gave him a smile to show that he wasn't really all that intimidated and flipped the empty bottle up to catch it out of the air. He turned on his boot heel and wandered back to Juro's office, where the man was doubtlessly curled over his desk, getting drool on his sketches. Missing the door, the entrance to Juro's back office/supply closet was protected by a sheet with a split down the center and a cascade of beads on either side to make it stay. Renji parted it quietly, checking to see if the man was asleep... and froze. Pulse jumping up to his throat and eyes going so wide it almost hurt, Renji found himself stuck in the doorway with the curtain still caught by his arm.
Sketches scattered haphazardly across the floor, delicate cherry blossoms holding down snarling dragons and sweet mermaids. Somehow, Renji picked out the splashes of color on each even though his eyes never tore away from Juro's braid, wrapped around a colored forearm. The tattooist was curled over his desk. But his hands were clutching the edges like vices. He bit down hard on a strip of cloth shoved between his teeth and his eyes were squeezed shut tightly, as if in pain-
If pain looks that fantastic, Renji's numb brain supplied.
His pants were down around his ankles, his lean, tattooed body nestled back against unblemished pale skin. They moved together with familiarity that bespoke practice, rough and frantic, their breath harsh and the slap of their skin making contact filling the room with a strange counter-melody to the soft music Juro always played.
It only just looks like him, Renji argued. His eyes almost refused to drift upwards to look at Juro's lover's face.
His lover?
It didn't seem like the right word. These two were loving. They were fucking,plain and simple. One strong, pale hand pressed into Juro's back, holding him down, while the other was tangled in the man's hair, with the long braid wrapped around his right forearm. The tattooist's head jerked back suddenly and he screamed against his gag, scrabbling at the desk for purchase and willingly pushing back into the other man's hold.
When Juro's eyes drifted open, Renji immediately thought that he should turn away. Leave quickly and pretend that he never saw this, but he couldn't move. Juro's lust filled, pain filled, pleasure hazed eyes turned and met his over the short distance (such a short distance that he could see the sweat drifting down the guy's neck). Renji expected shock. He expected the tattooist to get his partner's attention in a rush of curses that would finally break Renji's stupor and send him running from the shop and the strange welling tightness in his chest.
Juro smiled at him around the gag. His eyes danced with mirth. His look was almost one of invitation. Comeplay, it said. Renji found the idea both compelling and revolting. He didn't want that with Juro, the strange, too-slender man who frightened him a little.
But you want that with Ishida? Zabimaru asked curiously.
It's not...It only looks like him... he protested weakly. That toned, pale man who moved with all the sensual grace and power of a panther Could. Not. Be. Ishida.
The man who looked a little like Ishida gave Juro another sharp pull, forcing the tattooist's head back and his attention back to what they were doing. His frantic thrusts sped up until they looked truly damaging and then stopped suddenly. His body went taunt and he leaned backwards at an almost dangerous angle while Juro whined and thrashed underneath him and finally joined him in muted, screaming climax.
Remind me...not to sit in that chair... was all Renji could think.
The pair relaxed slowly. The Ishida-lookalike unwound Juro's braid from his forearm and came to rest on the tattooist's back.
Not tattoos...bruises...
All the energy seemed to flood out of his strong body and Renji's stomach took a sickening drop. It really is Ishida!
Renji might have stood frozen there forever, except a monster of a hand wrapped around his wrist and drew his arm soundlessly out of the curtain. He could feel Smith growling as he dragged Renji quietly out of the hall to the back door.
Safe from Juro's -and Ishida's- ears, Smith slammed him hard into the alleyway wall. Some trashcans went clattering over, making a loud clamor. The sound made Renji wince more than the pressure of Smith's big hand on his throat.
"Like to watch people?" Smith asked dangerously.
He didn't. Voyeurism had never been his thing. He liked to participate or he didn't even want to know it was going on. But... Ishida? He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, couldn't reconcile the strong, dominant man with sweat running down his neck and no glasses, to the tired, bossy, irritable man he'd come to know. The man who hid behind his glasses and ran from Kurosaki.
You're the one who said he could be a 'dom worthy of Kenpachi.'
I didn't think he knew it! That's...it's not...
Smith gave him a hard shake. "You gotta problem with something?" The man's eyes were narrowed and Renji did a quick risk assessment. Knife in the waistband, another in the boot-top and a third embedded in the toe of his left boot.
None of them would be a problem, except...Getting another gigai would suck a lot, Renji growled to himself.
"No problem. I was just startled is all."
"Startled people leave," Smith snarled.
"And people with a problem don't?"
The big man glared at Renji hard, trying to make him cower or confess or plead. Renji glared back. Bigger and stronger men than Roland Smith had tried to intimidate him and failed.
"Ishida is my friend," Renji tried finally.
"Juro is not the kind of man you want to fuck with," Smith told him. His voice lowered to something that was almost conversational. "I can guarantee you that. Stay out of his way. You try to tell anyone about this... you'll find yourself dead and floating along the river."
Renji nodded slowly like he understood and was sufficiently cautious of winding up dead in the river. Smith released him all at once, but didn't back away, leaving Renji trapped between the damp wall and his body.
The back door swung up and they both looked over to see Juro stretching like a cat. Ishida was nowhere in sight, and Renji sent up a small thank you for that.
"No need to be such a bear, Sumisu-kun. Let the boy go." He held out an arm with a friendly look on his face and twitched his fingers in invitation. Smith stepped back so that he was blocking Renji's perceived escape route. Renji rolled his eyes – like he was really going to run anyways! From what? Sullen at being herded, Renji sulked back to the door and tried to suppress his shudder when Juro wrapped his arm around Renji's waist and drew him back into the shop.
"Let's have a talk," Juro suggested brightly. His body was loose and relaxed and he moved with even more lazy grace than normal. It made Renji react strangely to think of why Juro was so relaxed and at ease. The man ushered him through the beaded curtain and Renji skirted around the desk. Avoiding the chair, he made for the sofa, but stopped and considered the worn cushions with a suspicious glare. If they'd done it over the desk, they'd probably done it more on couch...
Juro laughed behind him, a light, amused sound. "You don't have to sit down if you don't want to," he offered finally, settling himself on the desk with a pleased look.
Renji stayed on his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the tattooist with hot suspicion. "How did that happen?" he growled, lifting one hand to make a flicking gesture towards the desk and everything it implied. He noticed that the sketches had all been picked up and his eyes were drawn to a blue cross on the top of the pile.
"Well, dear, you see – when two men really love each other a lot-"
"Don't give me that bullshit!" That was not love. It wasn't!
"Too old for the birds and the bees, hm?"
"You have no idea," Renji muttered without thought. He glared uselessly and Juro only smiled back at him, unphased by either Renji's physical presence or his attitude.
Juro tipped his head slightly and looked away. His eyes clouded over a little and different kind of smile drifted across his lips. It was soft, almost gentle. "He is quite special, our Ishida-kun." Juro looked back up at him, eyes suddenly piercing. "I would do a lot to keep that man safe. Even more to make him happy."
Renji faltered, thrown a little off balance. "You do... love him?" It was supposed to be a statement, but it came off as a strangled, disbelieving question.
"Of course I do. I love all of my lovers." His eyes fairly twinkled. "Ishida is special to me. But don't worry, pretty Renji, I haven't staked a permanent claim on his heart. " A wink. "If you think you can take it, feel free to try. You have my blessing, if that's what you're worried about."
"I don't want his heart!" Renji's voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "He's... that's...Ishida!" That should have been enough of an explanation, even for him. But somehow it fell short. Idon't, he continued in an irritated inner argument.
Trying to convince me?Zabimaru asked innocently.
"Just his body then?" Juro's voice intruded on Renji's argument with his zanpakuto and it took a half-second for him to catch up again.
"What? NO!" How did he lose control of this conversation so quickly? What was it about Juro that made him feel so... young? Like a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar?
"I see." Juro's smile fell away and he became truly menacing. He slid off the desk like water and stalked towards Renji, forcing him back into a corner. "If you hurt that man, even unintentionally..." He let the threat drift off and then smiled brightly. "You're not the type to respond well to physical threats, are you, dear Renji? No, I don't guess so."
And yet Renji felt unbelievably threatened.
"Well, I'll let you go back to work now. Will you be coming back on Thursday or should I find a new apprentice?" Juro turned away from him and drifted back to his desk.
Strange, the idea of leaving hadn't even occurred to him. "I'll be back," he murmured.
"In that case, you can leave early today. I'm sure you have a lot to think about."
~I~I~
Ishida dropped backwards into the chair, dragging Juro with him. The man rested easily against Ishida's chest, a lazy smile on his face. Their breaths labored together. It was a little harder to catch his breath with Juro's weight on his chest, but he liked the closeness.
After a moment, Juro picked up Ishida's left arm, twisting it slowly beneath the light. Ishida turned his face away, hiding against Juro's neck. "I see the bruising is getting worse rather than better." The tattooist clicked his tongue in sympathy. "I don't suppose you're going to come clean on that I-have-a-condition lie, are you?"
"No."
"I wish you'd let me mark this beautiful skin somewhere else..."
"No. That's what I want."
Juro sighed and kissed Ishida's arm gently. "You're such a horrible tease, Uryuu."
The sound of his name on Juro's tongue made him blush, even with everything they'd done together.
"I don't mean to break the afterglow – you know I'm all for cuddling – but I thought I should let you know that your little friend did see us."
Ishida froze with his lips hovering over Juro's shoulder. He groaned. "It's Tuesday."
"Mmm, right you are, my smart little peacock."
Ishida felt sick to his stomach. "Oh... god..."
"I saw Sumisu dragging him out. I'm sure they're having a nice little chat in the alleyway about now."
Ishida didn't mention that there were about a hundred reasons why Renji would have no reason at all to fear Roland Smith. "Oh, god," he repeated, dropping his forehead to Juro's shoulder.
"Don't worry, pet. Get dressed and escape through the front. I'll have a chat with him myself. It will be quite alright. Though in the future, if you don't want your friends to see us fucking, you might not want to come over all geared for a fuck when they're in the next room."
Ishida blushed bright red, which Juro found endearing and so kissed his nose for it. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to Ishida that it was Tuesday and Renji would be working. He'd just been geared up so tightly and wantedit... Between Kurosaki, Urahara and Renji, he'd been strung like an overstretched harp string, ready to snap at the slightest pressure.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be sorry. I quite enjoy it when you're all...flustered." He smiled languidly and climbed off of Ishida's lap to collect his clothing. "You should probably not be here by the time I get Renji away from Sumisu's tender care."
Still red to his hairline, Ishida nodded dumbly and all but flew around the room getting dressed as soon as Juro disappeared through the curtained door.
Stupid ,stupid, stupid! I was stupid to get him this job in the first place and stupid to come here on a Tuesday and stupid for not thinking!
He made it to the front door just as he heard the first faint murmurs of conversation from the back office. A horrible part of him wanted to creep back to the office and listen at the curtain; it was a masochistic desire to confirm with his own ears what he was already positive of. Renji would scorn him. He would be repulsed. He might even turn on him and tell the others.
With his hand frozen on the door handle, he swallowed hard. Renji's disgusted expression came swimming up to the surface, followed by Chad's face, cool with disdain. Inoue, he thought, would probably just be confused. She might even try to comfort him.
Strangely, it was Kurosaki's imagined outrage that finally sent Ishida hurdling through the door and running like hell itself was opening behind him.
I'm always so full of myself...smart Ishida, who can run laps around Kurosaki in the classroom – I'm not smart at all. How do I keep getting my self into stupid situations likes this? This is ridiculous!
He slowed at the fervent request of his lungs. All of the lassitude that came from such a phenomenal coupling fled beneath Ishida's own anxiety. Juro was an amazingly attentive lover. He was versatile and accommodating and strangely willing to bend to Ishida's desires. The concept was so weird that Ishida remembered having difficulty with it at first. As much as he fought for it, as much as he pretended he was in complete control of himself, he wasn't used to be deferred to, to being in control of others.
His muscles bunched up as he considered his impossible predicament until his head began to pound and his shoulders ached faintly from the strain. He stopped and slowly backed into a lamppost. The chill on the metal soaked through his knit sweater and quickly numbed the right side of his spine. The sun was just barely visible, a bloody orange stain on the horizon, glimpsed between tree branches and buildings. He realized that he'd made it to the park outside of the school and groaned again.
There was no use delaying the inevitable. He should just go back and face the music. Maybe he could get everyone together and just announce it himself, before Renji had a chance to do it for him. He would feel better that way, more in control of the situation and less a victim.
And what am I going to say to them? Ishida asked himself nastily. "Hello, everyone! I have an announcement to make!I know you all think I'm an unbearable prude, but as it so happens, I'm quite adept at fucking older men over their desks."
The image was so ridiculous that he started giggling. It started out a low, shaking sound, barely audible, and swelled to a full-bodied laugh. He was conscious of other people, close enough to hear him and turn to look, far enough away that they probably couldn't recognize him.
Like anyone would believe that Ishida Uryuu is standing in a park, laughing like a damn loon. They'd sooner believe that I was an evil twin from the Negaverse.
He kept giggling, though he did finally clamp a hand over his mouth and curl forward to conceal the sound.
"Mind lettin' me in on the joke?"
Ishida choked on his own shock and his laughter degenerated into a fit of coughing. The stranger pounded him helpfully on the back and Ishida shied away from him, leaning over to catch his breath. When he straightened up, the stranger was still standing there. Nearly a full head taller than Ishida, the guy was probably closer to Renji's size. He had a mess of wild blue hair and the sharp features of a Western European. Probably Russian or German.
Ishida coughed into a curled hand and straightened himself up. "My apologies," he offered lamely.
The guy shrugged. "Ain't nothin for bein sorry 'bout." His lips curled into a wide grin. His expression was almost feral and his pale blue hair seem to make him only more so. "I was just wonderin' what's so funny. I need a good laugh."
Oh, I was just contemplating telling my friends that I like to have sex with other men and do it a lot more frequently than they would probably believe... Even caught in the trailing edge of his own hysteria, Ishida wasn't that far gone. He summoned up something like a normal expression, far too exhausted to even really be embarrassed. "It's a private joke."
"So I see." The man thrust a hand out. "Grim."
Grim? What sort of name is that? His incredulity must have shown on his face because the guy grinned broader and gave Ishida's hand a vigorous shake.
"It's a nickname," he offered gruffly. "Full name is kinda... long." He actually winked and Ishida found himself unexpectedly charmed.
Why am I so prone to being attracted to brutes and gangsters? And now of all times? he asked himself fleetingly. He finally remembered his manners and introduced himself. Grim rolled Ishida's name around his tongue like a foreign candy. He finally nodded and smiled widely. Something about his expression was a little unnerving, predatory. As roguishly charming as the man was, he made Ishida unaccountably nervous. On impulse, he glanced around to see how many people were still within eye and ear-shot. Not many.
"It was nice to meet you, Grim," Ishida ventured. "I need to go now. I have a test tomorrow."
"Sure. Nice to meet you too. Maybe next time you can tell me 'bout the joke."
It was more than a little forward to think there would be a next time. Ishida gave him a weak, polite smile. He was struggling for that sense of chilly disregard that used to come so easily and provide such an excellent shield. "Sure."
Without waiting for another response, he turned and hurried towards the campus. The sky was barely light, the shadows lengthening to swallow up the street. He resisted an urge to cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure the guy wasn't following him and took the most direct route to the front of the University.
By the time he made it to the dorm, the sky was completely dark and all the lights were on. He trudged up the stairs, unhurried. He didn't want to face Kurosaki. On a different night, he might have gone to Chad's room, just to soak up the man's comforting presence. But Chad's room was also Renji's room. At that moment, he wouldn't have risked running into Renji even if it meant fully-body contact with Kurosaki and his swirling reiatsu.
I seem to think about body contact a lot lately. The thought almost sent him back into hysterics. Only the third floor door banging open saved him from sitting down in the stairwell and laughing himself silly.
I used to be so self-sufficient. I never used to need contact. What happened?
What a disaster of a day. At least Kurosaki was gone when he made it back to the dorm room. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he crawled up to bed and fell immediately into an exhausted sleep.