Short Author's Note: I know I keep promising that i'll write that fourth chapter of Sour Apple, but the boys won't jump in the sack together until I give them some of these scenes. They're simply DEMANDING it. So here they are. More forthcoming. Hope you enjoy!
The air smelt of orange blossoms, warm and humid, as it blew Ichigo's hair back from his face. Blessed relief. This June had proven to be a particularly balmy one and a fine line of sweat was already beading up at his hairline, irritating the skin. He wiped it away with the tips of his fingers before turning his head to look out the open car window. Though he'd seen this particular scenery many times before, he knew that he most likely wouldn't remember a thing about it. He never did. The buildings, the orchards, the rolling hills covered with some kind of strange clover…he wasn't really paying any attention to it.
His mind was, as it always was this time of year, somewhere else entirely.
A quiet rustling from beside him drew his attention away from the landscape to his companion who was currently looking somewhat confusedly at the map in his hand. Kisuke had been amazingly quiet the entire trip, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary and keeping the car ride smooth. Now he was slowing said vehicle down to stare at the roadmap, biting his bottom lip in a way that made him seem much younger than he actually was. The gesture caused Ichigo to smile despite himself, shaking his head before reaching out to point down at their current location.
"Take the next right," he murmured, trailing his fingers over the back of Urahara's hand. In the past his family had always gone to his mother's grave by train, thereby making knowing the way by car unnecessary. But since he'd asked Kisuke to take the trip with him this year it unfortunately presented them with a unique problem. Ichigo, as of yet, was not in possession of a car. To that end they'd decided to take the older man's minivan (not exactly cool, but it would work in a pinch), going a week early so that the two of them could visit Masaki in private. Ichigo had wanted the first time he introduced the blonde to his mother to be alone…though he wasn't certain why.
"Thank you," Urahara replied sheepishly, linking their fingers and giving Ichigo's hand a small squeeze before looking back at the road. Though he would never tell him, Ichigo had been secretly astonished to see how good of a driver Urahara actually was. He had been half-expecting the eccentric man to either be a speed-demon or get distracted and land them in a ditch somewhere. So it had been a pleasant surprise when the entire two-hour trip was remarkably without incident (save for hitting that pothole the size of a child's swimming pool early in the morning).
Quiet settled heavy in the car, broken only by the purr of the engine (Urahara had modified it so that it ran on spirit energy) and the soft whoosh of passing automobiles on the other side of the road. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio, finding it more of an annoyance than a calming agent today. It was strange, but as much as he loved his mother, he found that most of the time he wanted nothing more than to have the visits to her grave be over quickly. They hurt…and Ichigo was not fond of emotional pain.
Suddenly Urahara cleared his throat, once more drawing Ichigo's eyes to his face. He seemed as though he might be attempting to say something, mouth opening and closing a few times, though the redhead was bewildered as to what it might be. Of course, there was the obvious conversation, but so far Kisuke had been avoiding that topic.
Another squeeze at his hand and the quiet was finally broken. "Are you all right?" Urahara questioned, his voice small and reserved, not like his usually boisterous tone at all. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Ichigo smiled wistfully, rubbing soothing circles against the skin of Kisuke's hand. This was the third time that the older man had posed that particular question. The first time being directly after Ichigo had asked Urahara to accompany him to his mother's grave, the second time while they were eating breakfast outside at one of the small restaurants in the countryside. And just like previously, Ichigo's response was the same: a simple smile and a kiss to the blonde's cheek before waving away his concerns.
"Stop asking," he said with a small laugh. "If I wanted to change my mind I would have done it already."
"All right," Kisuke murmured.
The rest of the ride seemed to go by more quickly, Ichigo's nerves fraying the closer they got to the memorial site. Eventually he found himself squeezing Kisuke's hand so hard that he heard the other man grunt quietly, Ichigo giving him an apologetic look before releasing the blonde's (slightly purple) fingers. He hated this…hated it! So why did he keep torturing himself year after year by coming here? The question seemed like a simple one, easily answered, but when Ichigo looked inside himself for the solution all he found was his mother's eyes…so dead and lifeless…staring at him…through him…
"I think we're here," Urahara's voice broke through his thoughts, startling him so much that it felt like his heart had jumped into his throat. What the hell?!
Ichigo forced himself to sit unmoving for a moment to wrestle with himself, trying to force his tense muscles to relax. He had to get it together if he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of Kisuke. Not that the older man would probably mind…after all…they were a couple now, right? Couples were supposed to rely on each other for strength during their weaker moments. Lean on each other. So why did he feel so self-conscious about Urahara seeing him in such a pathetic state?
The car door opened beside him, a pale hand reaching out to grab his arm and unceremoniously drag him from the car. Before he could protest he was drawn into a warm hug, Kisuke's arms wrapping around his body tightly while their cheeks brushed together tenderly. The embrace accomplished its goal, soothing him, calming his turbulent emotions enough to let him breath again. His own hands moved slowly down Urahara's back, mapping the planes of muscle clutching at the blonde's shirt for the briefest of instants before pulling away.
"Come on Kurosaki-kun," Urahara said, walking in the direction of the small road that led into the graves. "Let's go talk to Masaki-san and then I'll take you out for dinner someplace quiet, hmm?"
"Okay," Ichigo replied, going out in front so that he could lead the way. "You know, after I found out that you and my dad used to know each other…I kind of thought that you'd have met my mom before."
He glanced over his shoulder to see Kisuke's expression change marginally, his eyes flickering and the set of his shoulder's squaring, the muscle in his jaw getting a little bit more tense. It was during these observations that Ichigo realized how very in tune he was with the older man…how much things had changed. Back when they'd first met, he would have never noticed such a tiny change in Kisuke's demeanor, wouldn't have had the faintest idea how he was reacting to a statement at all. Now it seemed as though the blonde's every motion was easily read, laid bare for Ichigo to see.
"You did, didn't you?" Ichigo said pulling Urahara to his side. "I figured as much. Were you friends?"
"No," Urahara said, obviously not willing to put any effort into hiding things further as they continued to walk up the steep hills leading to Masaki's grave. "I only met her once in passing. I don't even think you could really call it a meeting since we never spoke…more like a glance."
"Oh," Ichigo replied, a little disappointed. He would have been lying if he hadn't said that he kind of wished they were friends so he could hear more about her. He'd always been curious about the kind of person his mother had been as a younger woman. Was she rebellious? Hotheaded? Quiet? All he knew of her was from his childhood memories, obviously not objective due to his adoration and love. It would have been interesting to hear someone else's perspective on the personality he could only remember in flashes.
Urahara glanced at him with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry Kurosaki-kun," he whispered, as though to speak any louder would break the fragile peace that was around them. "I'm not much help, I know."
"Shut up," Ichigo smiled, pushing the blonde's shoulder. "Don't worry about it."
Looking up towards the top of the hill, his smile faltered a little when he realized that his mother's grave was now plainly in sight. His eyebrow began twitching as he pondered the fact that he hadn't really planned what he was going to do once he got up there with Kisuke. It wasn't as though he'd written some big speech or anything…what was he supposed to say?
'Hello mom! I've brought a visitor this year! Meet Kisuke, my three hundred year old, super-genius, shinigami boyfriend whom I'm pretty damn sure I'm in love with but haven't told him yet because I'm a big freakin' coward. Oh! And did I mention I'm bisexual?'
Oh yeah…that was really going to go over well wasn't it?
"Um…Ichigo?" Urahara tapped him on the shoulder. "We just walked by Masaki-san's grave…"
"Shit," Ichigo turned on his heel and stalked back over to the grave, pausing before his face fell a bit. The grave was exactly as he remembered it, plain and unadorned, pristine…just like he remembered his mother to be. He brushed a few dead leaves from the top of the stone and sighed. What to do now? Kisuke was looking at him in an expectant sort of way, as though Ichigo was going to lead this little introduction of sorts.
When he couldn't come up with something he heard Urahara chuckle softly beside him and looked over. The older man was bending at the waist, his eyes closed and a small green charm in his hands that he placed on the headstone with care. "Thank you for your son, Kurosaki Masaki," he murmured, still bent over. His voice was octaves lower than normal, bearing the tone it only took on when he was being very serious. The timbre sent a shiver working its way up Ichigo's spine, making his breath catch almost painfully in his throat. "I will do my best to make him as happy for the rest of his life as you did at the beginning."
With that Kisuke stood to his full height, turning towards him with a small smile before brushing pale fingers across Ichigo's cheekbone. "I'll leave you alone for a bit. Call me if you want company, okay?"
Ichigo watched Kisuke walk away with a strange trembling feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It was the same feeling that had been there for months, growing each time the blonde would do something that caused Ichigo to instinctively react. It was an emotion that Ichigo was unfamiliar with, a sensation that was at once intensely painful while being pleasurably addictive at the same time. It had only been in the last few weeks that he'd started to fully understand what it was, his mind wrapping around the idea that the man he'd chosen to date was quite possibly…
"Mom," he said suddenly, turning towards her grave and clenching his fists at his sides. This was why he hated dealing with his emotions…hated letting them control him in any way. They were so confusing! No matter what you did, they never seemed to coalesce! "What would you tell me if you were here?"
Again he glanced over at Kisuke who was currently quite a distance away, smoking idly on his kiseru while looking curiously at a few random headstones. The older man seemed to feel that he was being watched and looked up, meeting Ichigo's gaze for a moment with a questioning expression before turning his attention back down to whatever he'd found so interesting. Ichigo swallowed heavily, running a hand through his hair, sitting down in front of his mother's grave with his legs crossed.
"I think," he said softly, staring down at his own lap. "I think I'm…"
"I don't know mom!" he exclaimed, a bit louder than he'd intended, casting his glance around to make sure no one had seen his ridiculous outburst. He lowered his voice, noticing that it was quivering a bit, fighting against the swell of his emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. "I've never been in love before! How am I supposed to know that's what this is?"
He pulled his knees up to his chest and set his face down on them, wrapping his arms around his legs. He would not cry. No way. That was about the most girly, pathetic, wretched thing he could do right now. No matter how badly he might want to do it, he was not going to give in to the urge. Nope.
"I wish you were here to help me out," he whispered, letting all his breath go in one great rush. "Goat-face isn't exactly the sort of person to confide in about my relationship, you know?"
Suddenly remembering something he'd brought with him, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled photograph, unbending the corner before looking down at it nostalgically. It had been winter, the Shoten was nestled in a soft blanket of white, and Kisuke had been supervising Ururu as she used the snow blower to clear off the back porch. Ichigo had come out a few minutes after that, reaching around Kisuke's chest to hand him a quickly cooling cup of earl gray before nestling his face between the older man's shoulder blades, arms wrapped contentedly around Urahara's waist. He had thought they were alone for the moment, that being the sole reason he'd given in to the affectionate urges, only to find out later that Rukia had taken a picture precisely at that instant. And of course Rukia, being the strange pervert she is, had shown it to…well…just about everybody.
Though he'd been completely humiliated at the time…he had to admit…the picture was good. And the emotion it called forth in his chest was all too real. Affection…desire…fidelity…a caring that went far beyond the way he felt about others. Love? The corners of Ichigo's mouth pulled upwards as he ran his fingertips along the glossy surface, leaning forward to put the picture on his mother's stone. Love.
"I'm in love with him," he said, his voice steadier now, more sure. "And for the life of me I have no idea how to say it."
Ichigo sat quietly for a while, mulling things over in his head, barely noticing the passage of time until the shadows around him began to grow and he found the air blowing more coolly across his face. Evening already? Head shooting up, he glanced around nervously, not finding Kisuke anywhere in the general vicinity. Had the older man gotten bored and wandered off somewhere? It wasn't unlike the blonde to get preoccupied and forget what he'd been doing.
"Kisuke?" he called, standing up and turning around in a circle. Urahara was nowhere to be found. "Kisuke?!"
Moving to go back down the hill, he paused mid-step and placed two fingers to his lips, turning to press them against his mother's grave before walking away. If Urahara knew what was good for him, he'd better not have driven away and left Ichigo to walk the entire way home. Practical jokes were something that his significant other liked to pull, even if most of the time they were really only amusing to him. Dammit…where was he?!
"Urahara!" his voice was growing steadily louder, and infinitely more annoyed, the longer he went without finding Kisuke. "Where the hell did you go?"
A very loud, very familiar, yawn sounded from above him, causing him to look upwards to the source of the noise. There he found Kisuke, eyes glazed over with the remnants of sleep, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at him. Blonde strands were sticking up all over the place, even more unruly than usual, falling over gray irises in a way that Ichigo was tempted to describe as…cute. When those same cloudy eyes blinked blearily at him and he grinned, Ichigo was sure. Definitely cute.
"What are you doing up there?" Ichigo questioned with a short laugh. "I was starting to think you'd left me behind."
"Never Kurosaki-kun," Kisuke yawned again, jumping down from the branch he was currently residing on to come up close to Ichigo and rub their cheeks together slowly. "Did you have a nice visit?"
Ichigo hesitated briefly, looking up at the blonde. "Yeah…I guess," he answered finally, rising up to kiss at Urahara's lips chastely. When he pulled away there must have been something in his eyes however, because the older man's face fell rather abruptly, the grogginess washed away by concern.
"Are you sure?" Kisuke cocked his head to the side. "Did something happen?"
Ichigo sat still, warring with himself over what to say. Sitting with his mother may have helped a little, but he still wasn't sure how to tell Kisuke the truth. Hopefully, with an important moment like that, it would eventually just smack him over the head like a frying pan…right? Things like that could only happen when they were meant to happen; Ichigo knew at least that much. He'd probably just have to be patient and wait.
Not one of his better traits…but eh…
"Nah," he smiled, reaching his arms up around Kisuke's neck and drawing their lips together. Though the older man was hesitant at first (he was probably still really confused) he eventually melted into the kiss, drawing Ichigo closer with a satisfied sigh. They drew apart slowly; Ichigo raining tiny kisses across Kisuke's jaw before laying his forehead on the blonde's shoulder. "I'm all right. I'm hungry though…"
"Oh good!" Kisuke laughed, putting his arm around Ichigo's shoulder to guide him back towards the car. "I was starting to waste away to nothing up in that tree…look at me…I'm practically skin and bones! I'm far too handsome to be so thin."
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo pushed the blonde's arm off and punched him smartly in the shoulder, grinning when the older man put on a tremendous show of being hurt. Without speaking he took Kisuke's hand and smiled, finding it much easier to just enjoy his partner's company than to worry about how to say things that (for now) were best left unsaid.
"You're far too handsome to be so full of yourself too. Learn some humility!"
"I'll do my best Kurosaki-san…perhaps I'll take lessons from you, patron saint of modesty that you are."
"I can make you walk home Kisuke…"