Title: Remember

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Gin/Rangiku

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 654

Summary/Description: Gin has forgotten, but Rangiku does not want to believe that time can be so cruel.

Warning/Spoilers: None, I think. Takes place long before Aizen, Gin and Tousen peace out of SS.

A/N: Written for Aki-omoi's weekly challenge. Prompt: We Have Forgotten, by Sixpence None the Richer. Alternative theme: a city with no people. First stab at these two; hope I did good.

Disclaimer: Bleach can be called many things, the least of which is 'mine'.

Shrouded in shadow, the blonde stayed well within the darkness of the alley. She willed her reiatsu to the lowest level that she could attain, and waited.

When Gin walked past, smiling that ubiquitous serene smile of his, she grasped his arm, and pulled him within the darkness with her.

His instantaneous reaction was to twist the arm of his captor, and push the body harshly against the concrete wall, front-first, his eyes narrowing into grim slits. He was reaching for Shinsou, when the person spoke in a soft gasp of a voice.

"Gin…"

His grip loosened immediately when he recognised the voice. The person in his arms turned to face him, and suddenly, he was being pierced by ice crystal blue eyes, set in an exquisite face, framed by luxurious, golden hair. The corner of his mouth curved like the blade of a scimitar.

"Well, now Rangiku," he drawled, one hand sliding down to her waist, the forearm of the other pressed against the wall above her head. "What's the meanin' o' this?"

A hand, long of finger and light of touch, reached up to cup his cheek hesitantly, and he breathed into it lightly, nuzzling it.

"I… I…" Her throaty, husky voice was nigh indiscernible, swallowed by the silence of the street that proffered no shaky echo. "I wanted… needed to see you." Her other hand covered the one that was now placed on her waist. "We haven't seen each other in three months." Three long, horrible months.

Silver-white eyebrows cocked.

"That so? Well, you gotta expect that. Seeing as I'm a captain now, I got mo' duties. You know. Busy, busy."

"Yes." The blonde hung her head. "Since you became a captain. If you're not off on some difficult mission, or swamped with paperwork, you're always with Aizen-taichou." A hint of rancour slipped into her tone when she added, "You'd swear that you were still in his squad."

Gin seemed to find this amusing, and laughed softly, leaning closer.

"Are ya jealous?"

"No!" she denied vehemently. "I respect Aizen-taichou very much; he's a kind, wise, and gentle man." She paused, and almost shyly, haltingly, found his eyes again. "It's… it's just that… we've come so far apart." Her voice was rent with sorrow and desperation, and Gin would never admit how much it hurt to hear that.

"And now you're wantin' some quality time, izzat it?" he said jokingly. The smile broadened. "Can be arranged, I suppose."

He captured her lips without warning, tongue spreading her lips and delving into her warm cave of a mouth. He swept across the silky sweetness, tasting her unique flavour, and revelling in it. His lips clamped down on hers, suckling harshly. Their breath soon became choppy and laboured, tepid and damp when it escaped the corners of their mouths.

Rangiku tried to reciprocate Gin's passionate assault in kind, but he was completely dominating the kiss; one hand at the back of her neck, holding her still, and the other with a firm grip on her breast. Rangiku found herself unable to move, and in a few moments, unable to breathe. Wetness found itself in the corners of her eyes, and she shook her head vehemently, trying to get her lover to move away. This was not what she wanted.

Gin broke away, ripping a gasp from her when his lips tore away. His smile was wide and curving, and he did not seem to notice that she was not returning it.

"Seems like we've forgot how t' do that, ain't it?" he chuckled, a hand rubbing the back of his head.

Imploring eyes, crowned with tears, beseeched him in a silent plea. Rangiku cradled his left cheek in her palm, tiptoed to that her lips could meet his in the softest, softest kiss.

"Please," she spoke against his mouth, her grief flooding her crystalline eyes, and spilling over to glisten on her cheeks. "Remember."

A/N: Sorry about the Mills-and-Boon-ishness of that kiss. I've never written anything quite that tawdry.

So, how was that?