The next time Ichigo cracks his eyes open, it is morning. A bleary pleasure lingers from the dream he was just having, until he realizes that it was indeed only a dream. There was no midnight visit from a concerned, demanding, and seductive Ishida. No sexy ropes or whispered confessions. Definitely no hand-fed sushi, his ravenous stomach is quick to remind him. Sitting up, Ichigo glances over to see the man innocently snoozing on his own futon across the room.
Ishida still has no clue how he torments Ichigo with his very presence.
Drawing to a reluctant stand, Ichigo cringes to feel a telltale mess between his legs. He wishes he could say this is the first time lurid dreams of his friend have created this kind of trouble, but it would be a ridiculous lie. Ichigo mentally dismisses it with a heavy sigh as he gathers up his things to head to the bathroom. Fortunately, it is early enough that only a few people are out and about so far.
When he is feeling like less of a disgusting pervert, Ichigo makes his way to the restaurant for all the food he can shove into his face. Whose idea was it to go to bed without dinner? The stress of yesterday would be more than enough to drain what little reserves he had left without adding a spontaneous fast.
Ishida joins him halfway through the meal, not bothering to comment on Ichigo's race to stuff himself silly. Seeing his refreshed face while thinking about how carefree of a time he is having compared with Ichigo pisses him off. He starts thinking about the fact that he has no idea when Ishida came back to the room last night. Maybe he met up with that new friend of his and had a nice 'chat' about how stupid and uncool Ichigo is in comparison. Maybe they exchanged phone numbers and plan to hook up later.
Maybe they went back to the new friend's room and—
"Why are you glaring at me?"
"I'm not glaring," Ichigo pouts, turning his head to gaze across the room instead. "It's called 'looking', Ishida. But if you hate it so much, I'll never look at you again."
A soft sigh is his only response. They eat in silence for minutes on end until even Ichigo can't possibly swallow even one more bite. Both finished with their meals, it becomes odd to stay but neither elects to leave. Ishida stares out the window beside their table as if deep in thought. This should be the time when he asks again why Ichigo is acting this way. It has been a long time since they were this reticent with each other. The distance is widening like a shark's gaping jaws. Ichigo knows it is his fault.
In the end all he says is, "I think I'll go for a walk. See you later, Kurosaki."
He panics. Jumping up with a clatter of chair and displaced dishes, Ichigo grabs his wrist as Ishida stands and starts to walk away. When he frowns and tries to tug his arm free, Ichigo tugs back until the man is forced to plop onto the seat beside him or lose his footing. Ishida starts to gripe, annoyed at the attention they are drawing to themselves, but Ichigo is quick to interrupt him with a whirlwind tirade.
"I know I'm acting like an asshole lately. You think I don't know that? But you're not making this any easier for me, either. Do you think it's okay to hit on some random guy just because I'm acting coldly towards you? Are you planning to meet with him right now?"
As soon as he says it, he knows it's wrong. The way Ishida recoils with furrowed brow emphasizes how strange the comment is. Only jealous lovers talk this way. How crazy has he gone that he could say something like that?
"If it bothers you, I won't see him again," Ishida says so softly that it manages to calm Ichigo's racing heart. "I'll delete his number if you want."
It's pathetic how reassuring those words are to him. Taking a deep breath, Ichigo glances down at the wrist he still holds and wills himself to let it go. His grip tightens instead. He shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, hating himself for causing Ishida grief because he doesn't have the emotional maturity to handle this kind of thing. By now, Ichigo knows he loves Ishida enough to do almost anything for him. Anything but fess up about his feelings.
"No," he resolutely decides as he finally releases Ishida's arm. "Don't delete it. Forget I said anything and go have fun. Spend the whole day with him if that's what you feel like doing. This trip was a birthday gift, right? So go enjoy it."
Then Ishida says something that instantly destroys Ichigo's manly resolve to suffer in solitude.
"I'd rather enjoy it with you, idiot."
Raising his widened eyes to meet Ishida's, he flushes to see the private smile on his face. The way his gaze warms over with sincerity has Ichigo's full belly flipping uncomfortably, but in a good way. He can't quash an answering smile, so he stands up and takes a few steps to hide it. As soon as he gets it under control, Ichigo glances back to speak.
"Come on. Let's go hiking, or whatever."
Heavy clouds gather above, hugging the mountain's many verdant peaks in preparation of an afternoon rainstorm. The rich scent of roiling humidity in the air lends a sense of urgency to their nature hike. It doesn't deter them. They continue steadily climbing the cliff, occasionally pausing to appreciate the landscape. Early-autumn colors bloom in a vivid smattering of decaying foliage. Birds chirp excitedly as they flit from branch to swaying branch in apprehension of the storm.
Ichigo plucks a wildflower and tucks it behind Ishida's ear, much to the man's confusion. Then he takes a picture and chuckles as he sends the cheesy photo to all their friends. Ishida tries to snatch his phone away and delete the embarrassing evidence but he is too slow. So he shoves Ichigo into a clover patch to return the favor with a quick click and flash. Brushing leaves from his hair, Ichigo vows to get him back later, when his guard is down. To which Ishida responds with a laughing scoff.
In the meantime, they continue on. No one else at the resort is crazy enough to venture out with clouds looming, so they have the trail all to themselves. Rain starts to fall lightly but they don't mind it. Even when it turns cold in a fast breeze. They reach the summit after a while, both soaked through but grinning with accomplishment. Ichigo shakes water from his hair like a wet dog and howls out to hear the echo.
"I told you this trip was a good idea," says Ishida, perching on a wide boulder. "Nothing like adventure to take your mind off the stresses of daily life."
Ichigo sits beside him in mute agreement. They gaze out over the hazy, grey-smudged mountains while their breathing slows. It occurs to him after a while that the temperature has dropped considerably since they left the resort. Thanks to the reiatsu he constantly emits, Ichigo never really gets too cold. That doesn't necessarily hold true for Ishida. Knowing him, he would elect to bear it in silence rather than cut their sightseeing sojourn short.
"Why aren't you shivering?" he candidly asks. "Aren't you cold?"
"Not while you're touching me." Of course he takes it the wrong way. Ichigo jerks his head around to stare in shock at that sultry statement until Ishida corrects the misunderstanding. "Quincy, remember? I can absorb your reiatsu and convert it. You are my own personal nuclear fusion reactor, Kurosaki."
"Oh...right."
"What did you think I meant?"
"N-nothing," he snaps, pushing to a stand to end the conversation. "Anyway, let's just head back before we catch cold."
Leaving without waiting for the response, Ichigo strides back down the trail. Ishida calls out but he keeps going. The inclined path is muddy and pebble-studded so that the descent has become hazardous. The drizzle turning into a downpour only worsens the issue but still he doesn't slow down. If Ichigo can only make it back without saying anything dumber than he already has, maybe this trip won't end in disaster after all.
Ishida catches up just as the trail curves sharply to border a high cliff.
"Kurosaki, what's gotten into you? Didn't you hear me calling for you to wai—Gah!"
A slippery rockslide steals Ishida's footing at a critical corner. Ichigo whips around in time to see him go down, rolling towards the lethal edge. Ishida stops himself by snagging a thick root an instant before Ichigo dives to catch him. Pulling too hard in fear, Ichigo overcompensates and sends them both tumbling backwards onto the path. They roll to a stop with a muddy squelch. Ishida wipes sludge from his cheek but succeeds only in smearing it.
"Are you okay?" Ichigo demands, checking him for visible injuries. "Did you sprain your ankle?"
"No, I'm fine. Just filthy."
The fright fades and he realizes Ishida is lying on top of him at a slight slant. Their legs are tangled together, faces too close. They're both covered in muck and being drenched by rain but Ichigo could care less about that. Ishida shifts to get up. He acts without thinking, taking hold of Ishida's upper arm to halt him before he can complete the movement, stopped in a kneel bracketing one of Ichigo's thighs. The question at the tip of his tongue goes unasked as Ishida meets his worried gaze.
More than anything, Ichigo wants to raise a hand to pull him close. He wants to confirm that Ishida is fine with a long kiss that becomes something else, messy and revelatory with no regard for public decency. Imagining it only strengthens the urge.
"I'm sorry. You almost fell over the edge because of me."
"It's not that serious. It was my own carelessness."
"You were trying to catch up with me," Ichigo insists. "Now your clothes are ruined."
Planting both hands to his shoulders in emphasis, Ishida tilts his head slightly and makes direct eye contact as he says, "I'm not the type to regret getting a little dirty every once in a while. Especially when it can be fun."
And Ichigo's tongue freezes mid-reply at that. Ishida stands, tugging Ichigo up with him. Just as they start walking, Ishida grabs his hand and uses it to sling Ichigo's arm over his shoulders.
"Wha—?"
"I'm relying on you to keep me warm until we get back to the hot spring," Ishida sternly tells him with a hint of amusement. "Think of it as penitence for acting like a brat lately."
Since he has no response to that, Ichigo allows it. They continue down the mountain, taking care to keep each other from slipping again. This is by far the longest they have spent actively keeping contact with each other and Ichigo can't say he doesn't appreciate it. It feels so familiar, so comfortable to walk closely together. Yet, he knows it can't last. The moment the resort comes into view, Ichigo pulls his arm away and separates from him. They draw enough looks as it is due to their bedraggled appearance.
The restaurant is packed when they pass on the way to their room. Apparently it is dinner time, but Ichigo is more interested in washing away the earth slowly drying into a crust on his skin. Ducking into their room just long enough to grab a change of clothes, they hastily make their way to the showers. Sighing almost in unison at the heat of clean water, they scrub away the dirt with too much soap.
It occurs to him that this is a perfect opportunity to show restraint. Ichigo won't ogle his friend in the shower just because he can. No, he will mind his own business and let Ishida have his privacy. The stalls are separated by tiled walls but they are roughly waist-high. He could easily see everything from the navel up if he wanted. But he won't.
From his periphery, he sees Ishida turn towards the spray and duck his head past to let the water sluice down the length of his neck and back. With the curtain of his hair hiding his face, Ishida is blind to potential peepers. Ichigo looks. The quickest glance, he swears, and then he won't look again. The tempting sight of him, however, proves too much to pass up and his eyes stay locked-on for far too long.
Pausing in his own ministrations, Ichigo falls into a self-made trap. He follows the lines of soapy water snaking south until the wall interrupts his view. The beginnings of a curvy behind are the limit, just a pair of pelvic dimples and the hint of a swell below. It is enough to rekindle an ever-ready flame that has Ichigo biting his lip in mild distress. Ishida chooses that moment to turn around, presenting his chest as he tilts his head back to rinse his hair. Lifting his arms to push it back, Ishida's flexing muscles wring a soft, breathy groan from Ichigo.
He opens his eyes and catches Ichigo staring.
"If you're looking for superior shampooing techniques, I might have a few pointers," Ishida jokes with a smirk. The fact that he misjudged Ichigo's intentions sends a relieved shiver down his spine. "Though you would probably benefit more from adopting the use of a comb."
"So I can painstakingly brush my hair into perfection like you? No thanks."
"Nice to know you think my hair is perfect, Kurosaki."
"Perfectly nerdy."
"Better than hopelessly unruly."
"You know you wish you had a style this cool, Ishida."
"If by 'cool' you mean eccentric, then no. I like my style just fine."
"Is that why you keep changing it every other year?"
"What's wrong with a bit of variety?" Shutting off the water, Ishida reaches for the towel and secures it around his waist, ending their flippant banter. "I'm heading to the onsen while everyone is still at dinner. Coming?"
As if he needs more opportunity to fantasize about Ishida. He follows anyway.
Sinking into the water beside him, Ichigo rests his head on the edge and releases a controlled sigh as his eyes close. He resolves to keep them shut until they leave the onsen. Instead, he listens to the wind and to the insects chirping their nightly calls in the woods just outside the high fence. Steam rises to heat the cool night air. Incense burns nearby. In this calming atmosphere, Ichigo relaxes enough to think unobstructed for the first time in a while. Even his perpetual lust for Ishida is momentarily side-lined.
They soak for a while like that, content to stay quiet and appreciate the ambience until others begin to join them. Their happy chatter gaining momentum as more friends wade into the large pool. He glances over to see Ishida eyeing the growing group with resignation. It doesn't bother Ichigo since he likes to people-watch, but he can also understand the appeal of having the onsen to themselves.
"Want me to scare them off?" Ichigo offers, dead-serious though it gets a laugh. "I'll do it, Ishida. Say the word."
"Who are you kidding? You're probably already scaring them with that Halloween mask you call a face."
"I'll show you Halloween," he growls, shifting closer in a mock-threatening manner. "Maybe I'll commit a murder right here."
"You could try, Kurosaki."
"Don't tempt me."
"Are you saying that drowning naked men is your idea of a fun Halloween hobby? Sounds kind of awkward to me."
"Nah, since it's you I could do it." Once again, he speaks before he thinks. Ichigo's face contorts in efforts to hide his stricken expression at that massive slip-up. "I mean, because you frustrate me so much I want to kill you sometimes."
"One would think there were ways with fewer erotic undertones..."
"Ero—No! I didn't mean it like that," Ichigo waves his wet hands in negation as Ishida raises his eyebrows. "Who said it was erotic? It's just water. So what if we're naked? You're the one jumping to conclusions here, damn it!"
Out of breath from his mild panic attack, he pants while Ishida laughs loudly enough to send curious glances their way. It has become way too easy for Ichigo to make a fool out of himself lately. Flustered beyond fairness, he grabs his towel on the ledge nearby and sloshes his way out of the onsen. He hears Ishida call to him but he ignores it. Stomping all the way back to their room and snarling at anyone who dares to gape at him, Ichigo slams the door and reaches for a fresh kimono to pull on. He flinches when Ishida comes through a moment later and slams it again.
"What was that about? Since when are you so sensitive to dumb jokes?"
Ichigo turns to face him only after reigning in his foul attitude. Towel hastily slung low on his hips, Ishida stands in the middle of the room dripping onto the tatami mat with a shallow scowl. A faint tremor shakes through his frame from the sudden chill of leaving the steaming water to enter an air conditioned room. It does nothing to deter him from having this confrontation. One Ichigo can't afford to have. He uses his last tactic and goes for distraction instead of answering.
"Hey, didn't you say something about wanting to get a massage?"
"What? Don't change the subject, Kurosaki."
"No, I'm serious. We're leaving in a few hours, right? This might be your last chance. Rather than arguing with me, why don't you go—"
"They're booked through the weekend," Ishida resolutely snaps. "More importantly, I'd rather you explain—"
"Fine, then I'll do it." It's a desperate move, but it had to be done. Ishida freezes mid-word with his mouth open at the suggestion. "It's my fault you're having a rough time anyway, right? Arguing isn't going to change that. So why don't we drop it for now? I'm a decent masseuse. Karin has had a lot of sports-related muscle pain over the years, you know. Who do you think she asks to fix it?"
In truth, it's an empty offer since Ichigo knows he won't accept. Ishida is the type of person who doesn't like to be touched. It literally took years to get him to stop twitching every time Ichigo accidentally grazed his arm or something trivial like that. The fact that they can lean against each other during movies is the product of much sneaky work on his part. There's no way Ishida would ever be complacent to have Ichigo rubbing his hands all over his back and shoulders. But if it gets him to shut up about Ichigo being stranger than usual, he'll say it as many times as necessary. Now Ishida will be too unsettled to keep questioning him and—
"All right."
"What?"
"I said 'all right', Kurosaki. You can try to give me a massage," he states so calmly that Ichigo is the one left speechless. "But if you're awful, as I suspect you will be, then I reserve the right to tease you mercilessly about your lack of skill."
"Really? Wait..."
Ishida is already settling belly-down on the futon with his head turned to the side. When Ichigo remains standing there like a lost kid, he cracks open his eyes and laughs at his dumbfounded look. He rolls to his side and bends his elbow to prop his head on a hand. Smirking like he just won a bet.
"Changed your mind so soon? Maybe I'll take pity on you and forget you ever offered."
"N-no. You wish!" Steeling his resolve, Ichigo walks over and kneels beside him, roughly rotating him to lie flat again. "Shut up and stay still."
"So far, I'm scoring you a one-point-zero. You'll have to try harder if you want to get anywhere near a ten."
"I'll show you a fucking 'ten'," he growls and attacks Ishida's shoulders too aggressively. "Don't you know better than to antagonize someone when you're at their mercy?"
"Maybe I like it rough."
Ichigo immediately snatches his hands away as his face erupts in a violent blush.
"What kind of pervert says something like that to their friend?" he demands in a high-pitched cry. "This is already too strange, Ishida. Keep your gross inclinations to yourself!"
Quiet laughter is the only response. After a moment, he reaches out to try again, much gentler this time. He has to willfully shut off his brain to keep a running commentary from distracting him. This was such a bad idea in the first place. Who knew Ishida could handle this level of physical contact? The last thing he needs is to start enjoying this. So, Ichigo tunes out the lascivious aspect of it and concentrates on the motions.
He wasn't lying when he said he has done this for Karin. Mostly on calves or sore fingers, but still. Trying to pretend it's her and this is just a brotherly favor works for about four seconds flat. After that, he starts noticing things. Like how Ishida doesn't have a single freckle anywhere. Not so much as a hint of a pimple. Seriously, how does he get away with having perfect skin? Even his battle scars are faint and thin, sort of shiny like spider webs.
Despite his confident bravado, there is a definite tension in Ishida's body. The shoulders Ichigo lightly kneads are tight, shifting minutely with each shallow breath. It's the exact opposite of how a good massage should be. Determined to change that, Ichigo scoots closer and bears down with slow, strong squeezes intended to unravel the knots Ishida has made of himself.
It seems to be working. His breaths lengthen as the muscles start to lose their excessive rigidity. The furrow of Ichigo's brow deepens in focus as he uses the pressure of his palms on the tenacious spots. Leaning over from one side like this is too difficult, so he swings a knee over to straddle Ishida's legs for better access. He puts his weight into it, ironing out the kinks and smoothing down the center of his long back. Residual drops of water make it easier until they evaporate from the friction. They really should have some sort of oil for this.
He is really into it now. Attentions narrowed to the mechanics of it as Ichigo digs thumbs into his lower back. His fingers splay out to contour Ishida's narrow sides as if he is holding his waist from behind. Ichigo pauses there and really feels the warm flesh beneath his fingertips. The damp towel covers Ishida's rear but does nothing to detract from the shape of it, so close to the edges of his palms. It would be too easy to 'accidentally' touch lower and apologize. He could totally get away with it.
Shaking off the urge, Ichigo starts working his way up again. Ishida doesn't comment on the pause, if he noticed at all. He stumbles upon an area he must have missed earlier, because rubbing over it forces a sharp gasp from Ishida. Curious, Ichigo kneads it again and gets no response this time. He keeps at it anyway, suspecting something special about this patch on the lower-middle of his back. Ichigo dares to peer over Ishida's shoulder and gauge his reaction. He is surprised to see him biting his lip.
Surely if he was in pain he would say something. Wouldn't he? Ichigo increases the pressure to confirm, expecting a wince or maybe a shout. Instead, he hears the faintest, breathy moan followed by another shallow gasp.
Ichigo releases a shaky sigh at that. Not only is he not causing Ishida pain, but his efforts are very much eliciting some degree of pleasure. A pleasure that Ishida is avidly attempting to hide from him. Probably so he can pretend Ichigo did a horrible job as soon as they're done. Of course he would want to gripe and tease whether it was nice or not, this punk! Ichigo isn't going to let that happen.
Rallying his best efforts, Ichigo doubles his intensity to hear more proof of how high his rating should be. He'll have his 'ten' yet! The result is irrefutable. It starts with a change in breathing pattern, evolves to a few of those barely-there moans, and finally escalates to one loud groan that causes Ishida to clap a hand over his own mouth. Ichigo draws his hands away and beams in victory.
Ishida twists at the waist to look up at him in clear accusation. It only widens Ichigo's grin until he realizes a few important things. Ishida's hands are shaking. His eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, cheeks delicately flushed, mouth parted for deeper breaths. He looks like how Ichigo feels right after a really good orgasm. Except there's no way he would miss something like that going on right under him.
The thought utterly destroys Ichigo's professional demeanor. He practically leaps off Ishida and paces across the small room, pretending he just wants a drink of cold tea. Though he nearly spits out the sip at what Ishida says next. Or more like the ragged sound of his voice as he says it.
"You did that on purpose."
"Did what?" he challenges while facing the wall. "Don't go implying stupid things for no reason." The next time he turns around, Ishida has pulled on a kimono and ditched the towel but he is still glaring. "Well? What's my rating?"
"Nine-point-five."
"What's with the half?" Ichigo complains even as he inwardly glows at the high approval. "Where did I lose points?"
"For leaking out so much reiatsu that you almost gave me a fever," he half-heartedly grumbles.
"Oh? Well, sorry I got you too hot, Ishida." Blue eyes flare wide but he stays mute. "Wanna go again? I'll do it better this time."
"N-now who's saying perverted things?"
"I just want a perfect score." Sensing weakness, Ichigo's approach forces Ishida to take a few uncertain steps back. "I'm not afraid to earn it. Lie down and tell me how you want it."
Reason returns to Ichigo after hearing himself say those shameless words. He didn't mean it like that. Ichigo starts to apologize but the conflicted look on Ishida's face stops him. Why isn't he yelling? This is the part where Ishida is supposed to call him a freak to defuse this weird tension and move on. Aren't they taking this too seriously? He tries to laugh but he chokes on the inhale. Panic burns in his lungs.
A knock on the door has them both jumping in shock. Ishida hesitantly calls for their visitor to enter. It is only a courtesy reminder that check-out is in an hour. Ichigo thanks the woman for a couple of reasons and shuts the door as she leaves.
"We should pack," Ishida says. "Then get some dinner before we catch the train home."
"Okay."
"Don't forget to charge your phone."
"Right."
"Toss me that bag?"
"Sure."