Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.
Warning: implied/referenced child abuse.
Juushiro sniffles and reaches for the paper towels. Shunsui halts his progress with an icing clad glove. His tone completely lacks harshness or frustration as he guides his hand toward the tissue box.
"I cannot stress this enough for you, love," he sighs. "A tiny butterfly landing on your arm could leave it bruised. I don't even want to imagine what paper towels will do to your nose."
"I've used paper towels over tissues before, and you know it causes severe damages. I always forget when reading over files, though."
Shunsui dumps his gloves into the trash and goes for their overflowing sink. His expression remains patient and open as the water warms up. An outburst or tears will come. It might come between scraping some dry mystery substance or adjusting the temperature. He moves through baking sheets, bowls, spoons, and knives while he waits.
Juushiro groans, pushes the file, and rubs his eyes. "I've dug through every note, drawing, and incomplete thought, but cannot find anything which suggests Renji has a history of bedwetting."
"I can imagine not." Shunsui turns the water off and faces his partner. "I only saw a little interaction, but it's obvious that Kenpachi's approval means the world. In his view, keeping secrets like this aren't harmful, because it doesn't upset his position in Kenpachi's world."
"I won't tattle on him but addressing this is necessary. You're not very discreet with private matters, but I am entrusting you to get the requested items."
"I will be so discreet that you won't recognize me. What will you do when a handsome stranger enters the house?"
"Does this new handsome stranger pick his towels up from the floor?"
"He hasn't decided yet."
Shunsui leans across the table as far as he can, grinning as Juushiro leans in and gives him a long kiss. It would never matter how many kisses they share. His cheeks still turn pink, his skin becomes irritated no matter how gently his stubble rubs, and he can taste the liberal samples he took from his daily baking. His skin is just beginning to tingle when he pulls away and turns back towards the sink.
"What else does his file say?"
"I've noticed he has a severe discomfort surrounding bathtubs," he murmurs. "Renji prefers entering a half bath or demands his brother stand guard outside the door while he uses the bathroom or does a quick shower. His former foster father, Gin Ichimaru would insist the children be outside from sunrise until sunset. Gin somehow failed to realize that children playing outside all day caused them to become filthy."
"I suppose he expected them to cooperate and take a nightly bath without fuss," he scoffs. "I forced my parents through negotiations every week regarding a bath."
"I guess it became a nightly fight between them, especially when Momo attempted stepping in as peacemaker. His solution was finding an old washtub, filling it with roughly six inches of water, taking it outside, and ordering them to bathe. Renji would attempt getting away with a quick wash, especially when the water became filthy, which…"
Shunsui continues his work. Juushiro's voice catches, again and again, his voice becoming thick and wet. He takes a deep breath and tries recalling what Shunsui baked today: bread and cookies with vegetables he swears are hidden under the chocolate. Right, he can do this.
"Gin would forcefully scrub him with a bristle brush as punishment," he gasps. "You can imagine how curious his classmates were, and how eager he was to share. Eventually, his stories reached the teacher and school nurse, who contacted Kenpachi.
Juushiro isn't nor will he ever be a fighter, having always relied on wit and communication to escape from bad situations. However, he highly doubts someone like Gin Ichimaru would appreciate wit and communication. No sooner does the thought occur, does he feel guilty for having it, especially since he only knows the man through a file. No, it's not a great impression, but his parents would still likely be ashamed of him.
"I know that expression," Shunsui murmurs. "Would a line work in this situation? I have one: you're far too pretty to look so sad. I never liked that one, though – telling someone not to be sad."
His smile is weak. "I always make these foolish promises. No matter what the child has gone through, I will reign my emotions in. I want them to realize that what happened was not okay, nor will it ever be okay. Yet, I don't want them to see my emotions and feel influenced by it."
"You shouldn't be stifling emotions, though," he scolds. "You can always share them with me."
"I worry an emotion might be too frightening or dark sometimes. You always come at things with such a positive spin, and I worry that my occasional pessimism drags you down."
Shunsui sighs, shakes his head and comes to wrap his arms around his shoulders. His hands are still wet, but he doesn't pull away. His skin has been warmed by the dishwater. No matter how much he scrubs, he cannot quite wash away the sugar which clings stubbornly beneath the soap.
"I would've never given up those terrible habits without you, love. I might not embrace them, but fear it would become a comfortable routine, which couldn't be broken no matter how much people begged or screamed. For giving up those things would mean giving up familiarity and comfort. I never would've found the courage or internal strength necessary to become Nanao's guardian were it not for you."
"I remember her first scraped knee," he chuckles. "I was immensely proud because you waited until she was gone before crying. It was our first date as a family, remember? We shared ice cream and she called us gross. I also discovered my lactose intolerance that day."
"Was it obvious that I cried?"
"Yes, love, it was."