Chapter Two
Byakuya hadn't noticed until he'd already left the squad building that he still had Renji's paper airplane clutched in his hand. Miraculously, the white of the paper hadn't been marred by the ink it had spilled, something Byakuya realized he should have considered before picking the thing up at all. He nearly opened his hand, to let it drop to the ground at his feet, but he stopped himself. Returning it to a less vengeful grip in his hand, he used a few quick shunpo to reach his home, not wanting to be seen covered in ink as he was.
After exchanging his ink-spotted robes with clean ones, Byakuya relaxed in his rooms, deciding to give Renji some time to clean up the mess and think about the results of his insubordination. He picked the paper airplane up from the table he'd set it on while he changed, smoothing a few of the crumples his grip had given it earlier. Experimentally, he raised it as Renji had and tossed it. It didn't glide the way he'd expected it would, instead shooting to the ground like a wounded bird. He didn't deign to bend and pick it up, instead turned his attention from it to think of his words to Renji.
He hoped his message had been clear, that there were times and places for such things as lightheartedness and humor, and their shared office during working hours was not one of them. Perhaps he'd been a bit too harsh . . . no, he'd been forceful but truthful, that was all. Renji needed to be put in his place sharply and quickly, without any nuances left for him to frolic in, and Byakuya had accomplished this.
He returned to the office a leisurely hour later, gliding in without giving a look toward Renji. As he'd expected, his desk was neat and orderly once more, without a trace of the mishap remaining. It seemed Renji had even refilled his inkpot, placing it a bit to the right of where he usually let his papers rest. Just as Byakuya always kept it.
He sat, sliding his chair the tiniest bit closer to his desk, carefully avoiding making an uncultured scraping sound on the wood floor. Arranging his sleeves a bit more comfortably for writing, he addressed his fukutaicho, glancing up as he did.
"Renji, about the paper that was dirtied-" was as far as he got before he registered the sight before him, and his mind became an utter blank. Renji sat at his desk, glaring across it at Byakuya, his chest bare save for his tattoos. It took a great deal of self-control for Byakuya to avoid bugging his eyes out. Yes, he had seen Renji topless before, Renji often removed the over-kimono of his shinigami outfit during the hot days of summer. It was just that at those times Byakuya had warning, and could carefully avoid getting caught up in those well-formed muscles, those leading lines of tattoos. Even the angry little glare Renji was giving him was desirable, almost making Byakuya want to turn up the corners of his mouth in a smile at his fukutaicho's immaturity. It was cute.
"What about it?" Renji said, brushing the guilt of the "dirtied" paper off of his shoulders with a touch of irritation in his tone.
Byakuya got a hold of himself, meeting Renji's eyes and trying to ignore the spread of very nice skin that his peripheral vision still forced him to comprehend.
"It will need to be replaced," was about all he could stay while maintaining his indifferent tone. Forcing himself to forget the feelings that were now rising in his stomach, he clarified his last statement.
"A transfer request from one of thirteenth squad's members, so it will need to be obtained from Ukitake-taicho."
He knew Renji would understand that this was his duty as well, an extension of cleaning up the mess he'd made, the consequence of his actions. His tone had not implied that Renji needed to hurry to get this done, and as Renji made a non-committal noise and turned back to his own paperwork, Byakuya knew he had understood. But he knew just as well that Renji would get the necessary paperwork from Ukitake before the end of the day, however he needed to. No matter how he acted when bored, Byakuya knew Renji was always seeking the respect of his taicho.
#
Getting the paperwork from Ukitake-taicho wasn't as complicated as it could have been, although Renji had to make up a reason for why it needed to be replaced. Thankfully, Ukitake-taicho believed that it had just gotten lost in the shuffle of papers between departments, and quickly gave him a new one. He hadn't even spared an odd look for Renji's topless state. As Renji walked the long way back to the sixth squad offices, he groaned inwardly, realizing it was already long past noon. His stomach reciprocated the thought with an angry sound, reminding Renji that lunch needed to come into his schedule at some point.
I need something quick to eat at my desk, cause at this rate, I'm gonna be doin' paperwork all day.
By the time he finally reentered the office he and Byakuya shared, Byakuya was already gone, his desk clean of papers. Renji glared at the stacks on his own desk, daring this day to get any worse. It was past five by the time he was finally able to clean his own desk of all the paperwork on it, his efforts to get out quickly hindered by his efforts to tidy up his handwriting a little.
He wanted nothing more than sake and a good sprawl on his futon, and being one who generally obliged his wants, he soon found himself semi-drunk and sleepy in his room, wondering where all the light had gone. He decided to let the sun setting be a cue to catch some sleep, but his closed eyes didn't let him relax. Even a whole bottle of sake didn't fade the lingering sting of his taicho's remark from earlier that day.
Does he really think I'm sloppy? he wondered, his tired mind ignoring the fact that the statement had been directed toward his paperwork, not necessarily himself.
Well, I do kinda pride myself on my sloppiness, around everyone. . . everyone but him.
Renji lay on his bed for nearly a half an hour, unable to sleep, pillowed by half-drunken self pity, before he finally pushed himself up to get another bottle of sake. He knew his jumbled thoughts wouldn't allow him to sleep until he was fully-out-of-it drunk, so brought the entire bottle to his lips, downing it quickly in an attempt to get completely plastered.
Byakuya stood before Renji, meeting his eyes with those cold grey orbs that always told him to look away. But as he stared into those eyes, defied their order, Renji's own fire and passion seemed to transfer in the gaze, melting the ice into shimmering pools, the wall Byakuya surrounded himself with into a wave of water that crashed soundlessly at their feet.
Renji stepped toward his taicho, but suddenly found himself drowning in the water that had melted from Byakuya's icy facade. He tried to swim, but found he couldn't do more than thrash frantically to keep his head above the water. Byakuya stepped toward him, and the water froze over again, the cold radiating from his taicho reforming the wall effortlessly. Renji found himself pulled upward, trapped in the icy sheet, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare into those cold eyes he couldn't seem to melt again.
"Renji," Byakuya said, his voice light, unfeeling. He stepped toward the wall, his eyes level with Renji's, boring into him. Renji forced himself to keep the gaze, not to look away like he so desperately wanted to. He could feel the fire within him diminish with every step Byakuya took.
Byakuya reached out to touch Renji's chin, running his long fingers along his jaw-line. Each contact left a trail of icy sensation, and Renji would have shivered if he felt he could move at all.
"Ice and fire do not mix," he continued, his voice quiet, each word breathing cold air onto Renji.
"Don't try to touch me if you can't control the result."
"Control," Byakuya whispered, leaning in toward Renji, "must be maintained."
He let his frozen lips meet Renji's, and there was a sudden rush of heat. The ice around them was melting again, but Byakuya held him this time, and he wasn't sinking, he was floating, unable to think about anything but the soft fingers that were twining through his hair, and the lips that were on his, warm and responsive.
He didn't remember falling asleep, didn't remember dreaming. The way-too-bright sunlight woke him the next day in stiff, sore pain, only his bottom half actually on his futon. The part of him that mattered most at the moment, meaning his pounding head, was pressed to the painfully hard floor, his upper spine bent into a painful curve. He righted himself as quickly as he could without being suicidal, cradling his head in one hand while massaging his back with the other.
"Damn idiot," he cursed, addressing himself. Now he would have a lovely throbbing hangover to match his mood, as well as other assorted pains. He couldn't turn his neck to the right without nearly gasping in pain, and a quick deep massage to his spine with his knuckles did nothing but spread the discomfort.
He was smoothing his black over-kimono out before putting it on when he noticed several large areas on the front that were a deeper black than their surroundings. He held it up, examining it closer, then wadded it back into a ball and threw it across the room. Apparently shinigami black and ink black weren't the same thing after all.
Thankfully, he had a spare he could wear until he washed the other. He hoped that would be enough to get rid of the ink stains, although judging from the fact that black still spotted his hands, he might have to replace the robes. Just one more thing to brighten his already wonderful day.
He doubted that seeing Byakuya would do anything to relieve the irritable mood he was in, but it wasn't like he could outwardly avoid his taicho. Dragging his feet all the way, he reached their shared office, glancing over at Byakuya's desk as he entered to catch a look at his taicho. Byakuya sat at his desk, regal and refined, not even glancing up from the paper he was signing as his subordinate slammed the door. Renji took his seat behind a much larger stack of papers, brow wrinkled in irritation, getting to work.