Autumn is burning everywhere. Bright yellows, rich reds, dull golds, and warm browns decorate the trees, streets, and wind. Ichigo takes a deep breath of sweet decay and smiles a little to himself. He's thinking it's been far too long since he was in a good enough mood to enjoy something as simple as nature.
On the way home from his appointment with Ishida, he figures he should still be fuming. The one topic he made plain was off limits dragged out of him when he least expected it…Ishida had probably planned the whole thing, too. Though, if Ichigo is honest there was no other way Ishida would've ever heard the whole story from him. However much Ichigo wanted him to know, he could never bring himself to breach that horror again. Now that it is finally out he is relieved.
Not only that, but Ishida went so far to make amends by sharing his own story. Ichigo is still marveling at the idea that someone as put-together as Ishida could have endured something as dark as a murder and stay sane. He has Ichigo over a fucking barrel! Maybe he should feel like a loser by comparison but he doesn't. Ishida serves as an inspiration, a goal. Something to strive towards when all Ichigo had before was a tenuous basket of what he wanted to get rid of. Now he's thinking in terms of what he wants to achieve and for the first time in his life, he feels confident in the ability to get there.
Ichigo takes a detour on a whim. Down a leaf-strewn set of streets to a comfy little duplex tucked into a cul-de-sac, he parks and runs up the narrow steps to knock soundly on the green door. Karin answers, perplexed frown twisting into a surprised grin on sight.
"Ichigo!" she cries, leaning forward into a tight hug. He grins into the warm crook of her neck. "What're you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until this weekend."
"Just thought I'd stop by."
She leads him inside, telling him her wife is still at work for another hour. They catch up while she pours juice for them both and takes him into the living room. Karin's border collie crawls into Ichigo's lap as soon as he sits down. He happily pets the friendly dog.
"So, what have you been up to? Yuzu told me she was bugging you about domestic things recently."
"Yeah. I was glad she called," he says through the fringe of a wagging tail. "The usual stuff, mostly. Did I tell you I'm still seeing Ishida for counseling?"
"Wow, really?" Karin's eyebrows shoot up. "How long has it been?"
"Almost four months."
"A new record!"
"Yeah, I think he's really helping me this time. None of that pill-pushing, touchy-feely crap most of 'em pull. Ishida knows what he's doing."
"Then you've been feeling better?"
More mature than Yuzu in some ways, Karin has been privy to a lot more of Ichigo's difficulties over the years. Therefore, when she asks how he's feeling, she's really asking whether he's been having the usual bouts of dysphoria, black-outs, or aggressive urges. She's been there to talk him out of a lot of stupid shit like that.
"Definitely. Actually, I've never been so optimistic. Today I told him—today I was able to talk about Mom."
Tears begin to pool in the corners of her eyes. Ichigo opens his mouth to reassure her but then she falls into his lap, tangled up with the dog as she clings to him. He holds her on instinct.
"Ichi-nii…" she sniffles into his shirt. "I'm so glad."
To anyone else it would seem melodramatic, but Ichigo knows how much his condition has hurt his sisters. All those years spent worrying that they would lose their big brother to something they didn't know how to fight. Their stress when he would disappear for days at a time. Fear when they heard he'd been arrested again. Ichigo has always understood this about them. It's why he never had the heart to admit he had almost tried to jump off the school roof one day. He's still not sure why he didn't do it—he had lost time then, too—but he is so grateful that he didn't. For their sake if not always his own.
Watching Karin fight off tears with the help of her concerned pup, Ichigo sends another psychic wave of thanks to Ishida for helping to make her joy possible.
"I was wondering how you might feel about…transferring to a colleague of mine, Kurosaki."
"What?"
"This is something I've been contemplating for a while and I believe it could be very beneficial for you."
Dropping a bomb like this halfway through the session, Ishida effectively throws him off-kilter. It's been a few weeks since he first mentioned his mother's death and they've been primarily working on that since. Ichigo has been amazed at his own progress on the subject. Ishida has skillfully taken him from a place where he was incapable of even thinking about it to the point that he willingly discusses the details of emotions he felt at the time. It's been incredibly productive and cathartic, so why would Ishida want to get rid of him now?
"I don't understand," he says slowly. "Why can't I keep seeing you?"
"Ukitake-sensei specializes in treating individuals with similar conditions. He has a wealth of experience and knowledge that I have yet to gain."
Ichigo's world begins to rotate jarringly. The very notion of never talking with Ishida like this again is enough to set him sweating in panic. It's akin to being told you have to give up your best friend and your best future at the same time. Ichigo knows he can't be fixed by anyone but Ishida. Judging by the dishonest cues his psychiatrist can't quite manage to hide, he knows it too. There must be another factor to this.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Ishida looks alarmed, shaking his head too quickly. "No, of course not, Kurosaki. Nothing like that."
"Then why?" Ichigo adamantly repeats. "At least show me enough respect to tell me the real reason—not 'I can't help you anymore.' We both know that's a lie."
Falling silent, Ishida guiltily avoids his gaze. Fidgets with his pen. Pushes his hair behind an ear. He is about to ask if it's because Ichigo has a stupid crush on him—it's probably obvious to someone like Ishida anyway—when they are interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Then Ishida's blue-haired ex flings it open. He jumps up with a gasp of the intruder's weird name.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demands, instantly irate. "Leave. Now."
"Nope."
"Hey, Ishida told you to go, man," Ichigo calmly reiterates as he stands. He infuses his expression with a stony threat. "You should listen to him."
Grimmjaw laughs and Ishida politely instructs Ichigo to stay out of it. He mutters something indistinct to the man, too low for Ichigo to hear.
"'Cause I was feelin' an itch only you can scratch, Baby," comes the reply. "This's what happens when ya try to ignore me."
Time slows as the man's thick arms rise to encircle Ishida and pull him close. Ichigo is already on edge about being abandoned by a man he likes even more now than even just last week. He doesn't think he can keep it together if they start making out in front of him right now.
"You're unbelievable. Idiot! What part of your drug-addled brain thought this is a good way to get what you want?"
"Well, what else do I need to do?" he asks with all the petulance of a child. Ishida roughly dislodges the embrace and holds a hand to Grimmjaw's chest to keep him at a distance. "I've tried apologizing a dozen times. I've begged. I've even thrown out my stash for you!"
"You're detoxing," Ishida tonelessly states as if it's an explanation. "That's good for you, Jack, but it's not good enough for me. You crossed a line. Nothing you do now or in the future can change that."
"Uugggh! Why are you such a fucking drama queen!?" Grimmjaw rolls his eyes and throws his arms into the air. Ichigo tenses when the man starts prowling around the small space between desk and door. "One time I tricked you into dropping acid and suddenly I'm unforgiveable?"
"Have you forgotten what happened after?" Ishida's cold voice wavers from the strain of containment. Ichigo can see it in the way that he goes unnaturally still but for a faint vibration, like a resonating violin string. "How you invited two of your friends over and coaxed me into the bedroom?"
Ichigo steps forward, stopped only by Ishida's arm barred across his chest. He watches the dismissal in Grimmjaw's apathetic face. If Ishida is implying what he thinks he is, Ichigo isn't going to be able to hold back. Already he can feel an ominous rumbling in the depths of his subconscious. An instinctive reaction to a threat aimed at a very important person.
"Tch. It's not like we did anything you didn't like."
"No, I've always secretly wanted to be roofied and coerced into a foursome with two other men I've never met," Ishida snidely quips. "What was I thinking? Of course I'll take you back."
"What?" Ichigo snaps, glancing from Grimmjaw to Ishida and back. "You're saying this guy—"
"Who asked ya, punk?" Grimmjaw stops pacing to turn and sneer at Ichigo. "Why dontcha perch yer sorry ass on the couch like a good lil' psycho and stay out of it?"
"Don't talk to my client that way!" Ishida snaps harshly enough to broker a few seconds of silence between them.
"Is he the reason you won't take me back?"
"Do you have a listening problem, man?" Verging on enraged, Ichigo pushes past Ishida to get in the guy's face. "Ishida says he doesn't want an abusive drug-addict for a boyfriend. Get it through your head, jackass!"
"You think you know what he wants, kid? Uryuu's out of your league—he's out of your fucking universe. He's got a bad habit of denying himself what he knows he needs." Grimmjaw leans in and flares his eyes as he grins wide as a skull.
"That's why he needs me to force him sometimes."
"Motherfucker!" Ichigo grabs two fistfuls of his jacket and shoves him against the nearest object. Channeling someone far fiercer than himself, he growls, "If you ever think of touching Ishida again, I swear I will end you."
"Kurosaki!" shouts Ishida, pulling them apart and stepping between them. "Step back. Please."
Seeing clear worry creasing Ishida's brow, Ichigo does as requested, trying to moderate his breathing without much success. He's too focused on the way Grimmjaw continues to smile as if he's loving every second of this. Smug and arrogant like he already knows Ishida getting back with him is a matter of time. Ichigo begins to imagine what their relationship must have been like, the shit Ishida had to deal with before he found the resolution to ditch this loser.
The mere notion that he could have hurt Ishida…His heart is thundering in his chest. Fists tightly balled at his hips. Perspiration dotting his forehead. Jaw clenched hard enough to ache. All he wants to do is destroy the threat in front of him.
"The police are almost here, Ishida-sensei," Nanao critically announces from down the hall.
"You called the cops on me!?"
"I have a restraining order, you imbecile."
They continue bickering briefly but Ichigo doesn't hear another word. A stone wall is sliding, shoving him out of the room and into a place so silent and dark he's not sure he'll ever dig his way back out.
Shirosaki blinks.
Waiting for the usual quaking of his body to recede, he enjoys the fading buzz of chemical danger greeting his arrival. He knows Ichigo only ever lets him take over when he's too shaken to handle the situation on his own. The jarring aspect of it ceased to bother Shirosaki a long time ago. Still, it can be annoying when he wakes up rough like this without memory of recent events. It makes him want to cause a bit of mayhem.
Ichigo's doctor is arguing with some wannabe-rocker with too much eye makeup and not enough bruises. He considers joining the fun but then the pair of them sweep from the room in a hurry. Shirosaki doesn't have to wait long before Ishida comes back alone. The doctor begins apologizing as he closes the door and comes to stand before him. Ishida halts mid-word as their eyes finally meet. Shirosaki smirks.
"Long time no see, Doc."
"Shirosaki."
"Clever man," he purrs. Feeling gracious, Shirosaki sits and gestures for Ishida to follow suit. He does. "So. Never pegged ya for chasin' the rebellious type. That guy's yer ex, right? What'd you call 'im…Grimmjaw?"
"Y-yes, he is." Ishida breathes out a shaky exhale and shifts in his seat. "Though that is a nickname. His real name is Jack Grimm. I met him a year ago when he was an aspiring musician and young father, separated from the mother of their child. She was nice enough to grant him visitation rights. But when his infant daughter died last spring, Jack battled his misery with drugs and alcohol. He became a different man."
"Y'didn' try to help 'im?"
"Of course I did!"
"Then ya failed." He watches Ishida cycle through offense, guilt, and then resigned agreement. Shirosaki feels an uncomfortable twinge when he mutely nods. "Who cares? Shit happens. It ain't your problem anymore."
Surprised eyes rise to lock onto him. The vulnerable set of Ishida's shoulders is doing something strange to his stomach, his throat. Shirosaki scowls. If he wanted to feel like a sappy teenage girl, he'd fucking kill himself. And he wouldn't let that Zangetsu bastard stop him and Tensa next time, either.
Instead, he focuses on a desire that he and Ichigo feel whenever they are in proximity to this person. A roiling heat like magma just beneath a thin layer of rock. Pressure building with each minute spent with him. Shirosaki can't comprehend how Ichigo resists it week after week. Especially when Ichigo has thought so often of Ishida in the late hours of the night when he is warm and relaxed and just the right amount of sleepy. Shirosaki watches those scenes playing out in Ichigo's mind theatre and wants it just as much. Craves it every time he sees those slanting blue eyes dragging over him.
"Do you remember what just happened?" Shirosaki doesn't answer but Ishida continues anyway. "Even if it wasn't 'you', thanks for…standing up for me. It's always difficult dealing with him after everything. No one has ever really done that for me before. So, thank you, Shirosaki."
"No problem, Doc." Actually, he doesn't recall anything from the past two days but he can take a guess. Ichigo has to be everyone's savior, after all. Laughing, he says, "I'll pass it along to King next time I see him."
The inside joke gets him a ghost of a smile from Ishida, who still looks upset. Shirosaki doesn't like the fact that some knucklehead put Ichigo's doctor in a bad mood. If anyone's going to mess with their shrink, it's Shirosaki! He's pissed. Wants to track down that blue-haired idiot and make him bleed just for the hell of it. Yet, something is keeping him from storming out of the office to do it.
Shirosaki thinks it has something to do with seeing the stern doctor gone soft as a lamb for once. All uncertain and off-guard like startled prey. Only Shirosaki doesn't want to rip into him, doesn't want to destroy Ishida so much as he wants to consume him. The pretty flush receding from his cheeks too closely resembles excitement. Hair slightly mussed and breathing accelerated. Shirosaki gazes straight at him and licks his lips.
Blunt fingernails curl and press into the leather under him. His breathing picks up a notch and Shirosaki's mouth pulls into a lopsided smirk. Ishida is still watching him, analyzing like a good little brain doctor. Bet he can guess what's going on in his brain right now. Ishida keeps his mouth shut, though. Doesn't tell him to calm down. Doesn't ask him to leave. Ishida just sits there and waits for it. So Shirosaki unhurriedly unfolds his frame, takes two deliberate steps forward, and leans in to brace his hands against Ishida's armrests.
"What are you doing, Shirosaki?" he mutters into the minuscule gap between them. His expression is almost too tranquil. Shirosaki wants to make artistic additions.
"What Ichigo is too afraid to do to you."
Shirosaki snatches his glasses away, grabs a fistful of sleek hair, and starts sucking face. He feels Ishida's quick inhale. A moment of hesitation. Then the man's mouth parts a fraction and Shirosaki groans as he pushes his tongue inside. Sweeping into hot-wet-soft and Ishida's tongue meets his with matched enthusiasm. His entire body burns with the significance of this acquiescence. One of Ishida's slender hands comes to rest over the one propping him up and Shirosaki takes it as invitation, scooting forward to perch right in the doctor's waiting lap.
His fingers release the dark locks to smooth down the back of his neck. Push into the stiff collar of his dress shirt and trace teasingly there. The palm of his free hand leaves the armrest and grips a firm shoulder instead. He slowly moves it down to pop open the first three clasps of the shirt, gaining access to a surprisingly well-defined chest. Shirosaki grazes over a bare nipple as he sinks a sharp canine into Ishida's plump lower lip. This wins him a strangled moan. The doctor's nails dig into his lower back and Shirosaki easily interprets the command for more.
Sinking down a bit lower, he positions a hand behind Ishida's spine and guides it to arch towards him. This gives him more leverage to deepen the kiss and bring their bodies closer. Heat is trapped between them, pouring past their clothes as if they weren't there. Ishida grips his biceps nearly hard enough to bruise. He nips Shirosaki, getting him back for earlier. So he drops a hand down to graze over the zip of Ishida's khaki pants.
"Ah!" he breaks the kiss to gasp. "Shirosaki, wait."
He ignores the request in favor of turning his attention to molesting Ishida's reddened ear instead. The one his fingers are always sensuously curving over, restraining his wild fringe. Shirosaki takes a tasting breath of his hair's scent as he presses his teeth into the pliable lobe and gently tugs. He continues to rhythmically outline the shape of Ishida's erection with light fingertips. Up and down…up and down. His body is squirming under Shirosaki's touches so beautifully. A series of low hums steadily ascending as sweet tension propagates inside Ishida. Shirosaki thinks he could make him come just like this, given a few more minutes.
The man's labored panting tickles the orange strands at the base of his neck. That gives him another idea. His jaws close over the side of Ishida's pale throat and squeeze. Just enough to trigger that instinctive burst of adrenaline. The bloom of blood under the surface in a temporary mold of his teeth. A keening moan trembles through Ishida and his eyes clench shut in helpless pleasure. He bites his own lip to keep quiet. Shirosaki answers him with a rough growl.
"I can make you feel so good, Ishida," he releases his hold to murmur against the shell of his tenderized ear. "Lemme blow your fuckin' mind."
"Nnh, Kurosaki." Shirosaki takes it like a slap. He jerks backward to frown at Ishida's dazed expression. This consideration—or maybe the reprieve—seems to allow the return of his senses. "W-we can't…we can't do this."
"We are doin' this, Doc."
"Then we must stop doing this," Ishida decisively states. He pushes Shirosaki's hands away and snaps his shirt closed, business-like. Shirosaki hates it whenever he does this. Going from open and honest to cold and stoic. Like closing a door right before you can run inside. "Please return to the couch. Our session is almost over."
"You gonna tell Ichigo to see another shrink?"
"I am going to firmly suggest it, yes."
"You'll ruin 'im," Shirosaki spits, jumping from Ishida's lap. "Us. You'll destroy everythin', selfish bastard!"
Shirosaki doesn't stick around to hear the response.
