Nanao found that, to her endless embarrassment, she had come to associate his presence with a fitful night of sleep and often found herself unconsciously searching him out throughout the night.
For years, they had, consciously or unconsciously, reached for each other's presence during sleep. Occasionally, she would wake up to feel his reiatsu sleepily brushing over hers before melting away as he fell asleep. As much as she hated to admit it, she would reach out for him in the early morning as she woke — he would feel him briefly rouse and return the contact. She startled herself awake when she first realized what she was doing. After months of fighting a losing battle to keep her reiatsu to herself, she accepted the contact. Over time, she found his closeness to be comfort.
Their habits had always been far from professional or purely platonic; now, they flirted with being far too intimate — more intimate than was acceptable between colleagues or friends.
Ever since the evening he returned from the Living World, gentle prodding would pull her from sleep at night. It was a distant sensation that slowly bled into her dreams and gently coaxed her into rousing. Half asleep, she greeted him more openly than she dared during the day. On those nights, she would allow herself to move through the motions with him as he settled in for the night. Tired, half-asleep, and yearning for his closeness, she couldn't refuse the promise of comfort and allowed them to interweave their reiatsu. She could almost feel his arms around her, holding her as he fell asleep on those nights.
On other nights, however, she would catch herself reaching out to him as she fell and grew sleepier. Somewhere between asleep and awake, she would reach out for him. He always greeted her with openness and let his presence linger. Even when he was out at night, he maintained superficial contact, his calm affection lulling her to sleep. On nights when he was home, he would gladly entangle them without caution for fear of discovery.
In the mornings came the anxiety. Their new game was still undefined; there were no rules or boundaries. Things could quickly and easily spiral out of control, with dire consequences. They were playing a dangerous game; one slip-up and they would be found out.
After a week of sleeping in a tangle with Kyouraku's reiatsu, she decided it was best to address her anxiety head-on and vowed to refrain from giving in to her desires and reaching out. Four nights of discipline and self-control had suspiciously coincided with four nights of tossing and turning.
On the fifth day, she felt sleeplessness impacting her waking hours. Crafting a spell from scratch for the First was exhausting, and she had spent far too much time refining the kido. However, as tired as she was, sleep continued to be elusive; it was well past midnight, and she had yet to find a comfortable position. Worst of all, the night's chill had long since permeated her quilt. Nothing seemed to work; no matter how many times she rearranged herself or how many pillows and blankets she added, she was still uncomfortable and cold.
Looking at the clock again, she sighed — yet another hour had passed. She couldn't help but be jealous of Kyouraku; he could fall asleep so quickly and sleep so deeply. Although they had only shared a bed a few times, his deep sleep always lulled her into rest, and now, without him, her bed was far too big and far too cold. The man was a furnace — there was never a moment where she felt cold when she slept in his arms. Even his spirit was warm; his reiatsu was a soft blank that ensconced her in calm comfort. There were moments when it felt like she could burn along with him.
After hours of tossing and turning and yearning for his presence, she gave in and reached out. She found him at home, his mood agitated. It would be so simple to go to him—so simple but impossibly complicated. Resolving herself to a night of solitude, she reeled in her reiatsu.
Sighing in frustration, she stood and made her way to the sitting room. Reading was better than tossing and turning.
Her restlessness had yet to pass when a knock on her garden door startled her to attention — only one person would show up unannounced at her door at three in the morning.
She took a steadying breath — she would have to use all of her discipline to work through this interaction.
Standing, she slid open the door to greet her not-so-unwanted guest. Kyouraku was standing on her porch in a light yukata. The sight of him so casually dressed, forgoing his usual attire, never failed to spark a mixture of desire and affection deep in her core.
"Nanao-chan?" he asked, his voice was low and smooth.
"Taicho, are you feeling alright?"
He turned to look at her, his curious eyes soft in the low light. He shook his head and, taking off his sandals, walked into the sitting room.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, smiling sheepishly, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
Her heart melted at his bashful smile. She rarely saw such an honest, open, and boyish smile from him, and she had to fight the urge to reach up and trace his lines.
However, they had rules and lines.
"And you thought…"
"Well, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight. With you?" He looked so hopeful that it was hard to deny him — it was always hard to deny him anything when he looked so earnest — but there were rules.
"That —" She cleared her throat. "That would not be appropriate, sir."
However, the hopeful look in his eyes nearly had her bending the rules. Nearly.
Despite logic and propriety, her mind, body, and soul were desperate to say 'yes,' grasp him by the hand, pull him into the bedroom, and fall asleep in his arms. Just the thought of his arms, which kept her oh-so warm, had kept her tossing and turning for four nights.
He reached up to cup her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb.
She instinctively turned her head towards his hand — her resolve could only last so long. Her treacherous mind was already listing all the ways that his presence in her home and sleeping beside her would ease her restlessness. Having him close by would put all her wandering thoughts to bed. She knew he'd leave if asked, but she wasn't sure she wanted to.
"I…" She let out a breath. While she desperately wanted to say yes, no was the correct answer. "I don't know."
"We'll both sleep better," he said softly, offering his hand.
He was right. She looked at his hand and hesitated. The risks were so high.
That sweet smile fell off his face, and he pulled his hand back. "I understand."
No. No, he did not.
She grasped his hand loosely, and his eyes widened in shock. He recovered within moments and, smiling lightly, wove his fingers through hers. He was right. Of course, he was right. As infuriating as it may be, her Captain was a perceptive man with a keen eye, and when he put his mind to it, he was rarely wrong. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and she did need all the sleep she could get. It would be so easy with him by her side. She would sleep so well with him by her side. Before she could change her mind, she tightened her hand around his and tugged at it, stepping toward the bedroom.
The walk to the bedroom was endless and far too short. As much as she tried to convince herself that this was a mistake, that they were pushing boundaries that were best left intact, she couldn't deny the thrill of anticipation she felt when he settled beside her on the bed. She did her best to relax but, once again, could not find a comfortable position. That was until he cautiously extended his reiatsu to brush against hers, asking permission to deepen their connection. Returning the gesture, she felt a full-body shudder run through her when he slowly entwined their reiatsu.
As always, his reiatsu was a soothing balm to her soul. It spread and tangled with hers in a far too intimate way for friends, let alone a Taicho and Fukutaicho. It wasn't long before Kyouraku's hand inched its way towards hers, wrapping her hand in his. She would allow herself this contact. After all, they had crossed nearly every line they'd already set.
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Goodnight."
Kyouraku was in the depths of sleep when he felt something move against his chest. For as long and deep as he could sleep, he was easy to rousse. His arms were wrapped around whatever was squirming against him; his legs were entangled with someone else's, and his face was buried in soft hair that smelled distinctly like lavender and faintly of ink.
Nanao.
Slowly opening his eyes, he was faced with inky waves—it was, in fact, Nanao buried in his chest, resting peacefully in his arms. He smiled and looked up at the ceiling, gently running his hand across her back, listening to her quiet breathing and rain hitting the roof.
They were creating and writing a new game now — new charades. The week before, when she had come to his garden, they had shared a bed out of a need for comfort. This time, however, they were sharing a bed out of a desire to be close without any pretense. He'd spent hours trying to wind down, but his mind drifted to Nanao. After an hour of fighting off his impulses, he gave up the facade that he didn't want to be near Nanao and jumped into shunpo.
For as calm and as confident of a man he was, his heart was beating in his ears as he watched her deliberate. He had lost all hope when she reached for his hands.
She stirred in his arms. "You're thinking too hard," she whispered into the darkness, her head staying in its resting place.
He chuckled. "Sorry, sweetheart. I do my best not to." He leaned down and kissed her head.
"Hmmm, I'm well aware," she answered sleepily. He sighed in pleasure when her hand began to trace circles on his chest. He stroked her back in response and couldn't hold back a full-body chill when she nestled deeper into his arms, nuzzling where his shoulder met his neck.
"Sleep." Her order fell short as it was a groggy whisper against his neck, and he couldn't hold back a sigh when her lips brushed his neck.
"Yes, dear." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She hummed in acknowledgment and relaxed back onto his chest.
Her breathing slowed within a moment. Try as he might to join her in sleep, however, his conversation with Ukitake last week was still ringing in his head. What was he doing? What were they doing? What sort of game were they playing?
His fukutaicho was lying in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He was lying, trying to fall asleep in his Nanao-chan's bed. He was never one to sleep in another person's house; the feeling of a bed that was not his own irked and unsettled him. However, here he was, in his Fukutaicho's bed, relaxing to the feeling of her heart beating against his chest.
What was he doing? There would be consequences to their new games — consequences he was not sure he was ready or equipped to handle. However, the feeling of being close to Nanao was soothing and warmed the depths of his soul like none he had ever experienced, and it was dangerously tempting.
He wasn't sure how long he had spent ruminating, but the wandering thoughts quickly reached an uncomfortable level of worry. This level of anxiety and indecision was new to him, and he did not care for it. Without thought, he kissed Nanao's head, once again drawing comfort in a way that was foreign to him.
"Taicho," she murmured sleepily. "Sleep."
He nuzzled the top of her head. "I can't seem to find sleep, sweetheart."
"Count hollows or something."
He chuckled. Sleepy as she was, her voice was as commanding as ever.
She was, oh, so cute.
"I'll try," he whispered and kissed the top of her head, running a hand up her back and smiling when she shuddered.
She said nothing, but her hand slipped across his chest to rest on his shoulder. Slowly, he became aware of her reiatsu tangling with his, and looking down, he saw she had fallen asleep once again and was likely doing it in her sleep.
Closing his eyes, he deepened the connection. Surrounded by all that comfort, he could not fight off sleep.
She was peacefully asleep when a loud boom broke through her peace. Ignoring the sound, she did her best to return to sleep. She was almost asleep when a bright flash and loud boom brought her to full attention.
"You're afraid of thunder?" He tightened his grip on her waist and cooed, "My brave Nanao-chan's weakness is thunder?"
At the next clap of thunder, Nanao found herself trapped in a memory she'd done her best to forget. A memory set during another stormy night, in another lifetime where there was no Kyouraku to come to her rescue. Nanao felt her throat constrict and her eyes sting. She vaguely registered a voice calling out to her again, a hand tightening around hers.
"Nanao?" She distantly felt Kyouraku shift and a hand on her cheek. "Are you okay?" His voice finally broke through.
She clenched her eyes closed at the onslaught of memories burning through her senses. She felt the warm hand smooth back her hair. "Nanao-chan, what's wrong?"
He asked so softly that her body began to unwind and untense, "I… " She trailed off, not knowing how to verbalize her whirlwind of feelings.
"Nanao-chan? Look at me, " he whispered again, "please talk to me?"
He sounded so earnest; how could she say refuse him anything? She took measured breaths and explained, "I had some … bad experiences in thunderstorms." She'd been avoiding sharing this story with him, knowing he wouldn't take it well.
She cleared her throat and did her best to sound serious but couldn't hold back a flinch at the next flash of lightning.
"Nothing, it's silly."
He sat up, holding her to his chest. "It's not silly to me."
She settled back to sit at his side. "I had a bad experience in a storm."
She felt him stiffen. Unsure of what to say or divulge, she waited for his reaction. However, he quickly relaxed — a practiced reaction she recognized when he was unnerved. She hated situations that elicited that reaction.
"What happened?"
"It was a long time — when I first started at the Eighth," she said without thought.
He stared at her with such a soft intensity she had to look away. "When you first started at the Eighth?"
Thunder sounded, and she couldn't hold back the whole body shudder, curling herself into his side.
"Nanao, look at me, please," he whispered again, "drop the charade, and please talk to me?" He sounded so earnest — how could she refuse him?
"I was in the field with a team. We were patrolling the 15th District..." she took a breath. He was not going to like what she was about to say. "I was sent to scout a wooded area, and it started storming — badly. When I reached the rendezvous point, the others were gone." She paused to give him a moment to process.
"You were left behind?" he asked in confusion. "But —" He caught up with what she was saying. "But you were just a child."
She breathed out and nodded.
"Alone?" His tone was even and his voice low — a very dangerous sign.
She remained silent as she felt the spiritual pressure room increase with his quickly deteriorating mood.
"How long were you out there?"
"A week," she whispered.
The temperature in the room dropped.
"I would have been back sooner, but the hollows — they chased me for days —" She froze. She hadn't meant to tell him that bit.
He let out a strangled breath. "What?"
She cleared her throat. "There was a pack of hollows."
"They left you — they left you in a storm. With hollows." His face was placid, but based on the chill of his reiatsu, he was far from calm.
She did her best to remain present but found herself slipping into memories. "It was storming so badly and the hollows — there were so many."
She took a deep breath.
"I tried to make it back home — I tried my best, but there were so many." She took a shaky breath.
"Oh, sweetheart."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her onto his lap, and pressed a kiss on her temple.
"I'm so sorry, Nanao-chan." He murmured. "Were you injured?"
She froze, and his arms tightened around her middle.
"How bad, Nanao?"
She pulled away and slowly pulled her shirt up to show a scar that spanned three inches across her side.
The room crackled as his reiatsu tensed and coiled.
"Was it intentional?"
She paused. Yes. There was no denying it was intentional.
The team leader had complained about her being assigned to his patrol group. When she finally returned to Seireitei, the man had sneered when he caught sight of her, muddy and limping. While she'd long gotten over the man's actions — once she attained the rank of a seated officer, he had cowered at her — the terror of the experience, however, had yet to fade.
Sharing the intentionality of the man's actions with Kyouraku would be dangerous — there would be hell to pay. She didn't have to speak or even look at him to know he'd come to a conclusion.
She paused and took in his expression; his eyes were thunderous, and his mouth set into a deadly line. "Who was it?"
She sighed. "It doesn't matter."
"Who was it? I need to know." His face was placid, but based on the chill of his reiatsu, he was far from calm.
"Who?" The question promised ruin for whoever she named.
"It doesn't matter — it was so long ago."
"That doesn't change my question — Who?"
She sighed, "Akamichi, Kotaro."
"I see."
Akamichi Kotaro would have hell to pay in the morning.
"Taicho, don't —"
"It needs to be addressed, Nanao." She shuddered at the commanding authority and danger behind his voice — there was a reason he was one of the oldest and strongest Taicho.
"Please, don't do anything rash."
His face was placid, but based on the chill of his reiatsu, he was far from calm.
"Taicho, please."
His livid expression fell into one of sorrow, and he brought his palm to her side and stroked the scar with his thumb.
He took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes tortured. "How did you make it back?"
"I found a cave," she paused, trying to remember the night she spent in the cave. "I remember losing consciousness. I woke up in the morning — there was so much blood — and I patched myself up as best as I could, but I was so tired and hurt I couldn't move for a few days, then I walked back to Seireitei."
"Nanao…" he trailed off and looked at her mournfully. "You must have been so scared."
She brought her hand to stroke his chest lightly. "Really, it's all right."
"It's not, Nanao-chan." He sighed and cupped her cheeks, running his thumb over her cheekbone. "A week, you were out there — injured." He kissed her forehead and ran a hand up her back. "And it still affects you to this day."
He pulled back to look her firmly in the eye. "I'm sorry." He seemed to study her for a moment and then spoke with certainty, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that — I should have known. I should have come for you. You know I'll always come for you — you know that, right?" His eyes burned with conviction.
"I know, and please don't be so dramatic." she rolled her eyes, trying to diffuse the tension that had enveloped them.
"I'm not being dramatic; I can't help how much I care for my precious Nanao-chan," he said dramatically, infusing the moment with levity.
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Taicho."
"I'm grateful to have you here — that you're safe," he said softly before kissing her forehead and pulling back.
She felt a warmth that she only associated with him spread throughout her chest, "I'm glad I'm here."
With you
It was unspoken, but she knew her meaning was clear. Turning on her side, she leaned up and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek.
He hummed and kissed her forehead again before reclining on his forearm to watch her as she settled on her back. After moments of staring at the ceiling, she turned to face him. She was held captive by his gaze, his eyes liquid silver, shining in the moonlight. Overwhelmed with tender emotion, she reached out a hand to cup his cheek and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
He smiled. "I'll always come. You never have to go through this alone ever again." He spoke with conviction.
His eyes softened even more than she thought possible, and she settled, breathing him in and taking comfort in his presence. He seemed satisfied by whatever he saw in her eyes because he moved closer and slowly brushed his lips against hers. It was a soft touch, barely there. He paused and murmured against her lips, "Nanao-chan?"
"Yes," she answered, unsure whether 'yes' was a response or questions — both?
The moment his lips touched hers, she was lost to the sensation. Kissing him was like basking in the warmth of the summer sun. His lips moved languidly over hers, drawing out every ounce of self-control she had. Lost to the feeling of his lips and body so close, she felt herself responding and deepening to the kiss. He pulled away sooner than she would have liked. Opening her eyes, she saw him looking at her with an adoration that burned right through her very core.
"I …" she didn't know what to say, and instinctively, she found herself leaning up to close the distance between them once more. He came willingly and ran his reiatsu against hers. She couldn't help but reach up for his hair. All of her senses were on fire. She felt him pull back and opened her eyes to find him smiling softly. His sweet and sad smile was just as overwhelming as his kiss.
After several silent moments, he dropped his lips to her forehead and whispered, "You think too hard, sweetheart."
"Someone has to." She released his hair and looked him over. Fleetingly, she thought about how inappropriate their current situation was — they were sharing her bed, his sleeping yukata was opened dangerously low, and his eyes held a tender look that melted her insides. Nothing about this was appropriate.
Yet, when his hand came to rest on her cheek, and he bent down to kiss her, propriety suddenly became entirely unimportant. His lips moved lazily, dragging out every touch and melting every moment together. She easily fell in synch with him and gazed into the temptation to run her fingers through his hair. She broke away and rested her forehead against his while she tried to catch her breath. When she was finally able to breathe smoothly, she pulled back just enough to see his expression. His eyes were closed, and his face was relaxed and serene. She felt affection surge through her at the sight of him so calm. As if sensing her gaze, he opened a sleepy eye and smiled softly. Decidedly overwhelmed, she pulled him into another kiss.
All her senses were overwhelmed, sizzling throughout her whole body. He smelled like spices, sake, and grass; every inhale was like breathing in pure comfort. Everything about him was comforting and warm. The weeks he had avoided her after their first night together had been significantly colder than the weather would indicate. Without his presence, those had grown colder. The man radiated a warmth like she had never known. Every aspect of the man was warmth — from his furnace-like quality to his smile to his personality and values — everything about him warmed her.
She wasn't sure how long they spent trading lazy kisses. It seemed that each kiss bled into the next. His hand roamed across her back, alternating between caressing and stroking. "We should sleep," he murmured against her lips, promptly pulling her into another prolonged series of kisses. He pulled back, and she opened her eyes to see him smiling.
Overcome with a sudden bout of emotion, Nanao reached up and brushed her lips against his cheek. Kyouraku rolled them so he rested on his back, and she came to lay half on top of him. Before she could regret her decision, she rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.
"Goodnight, Taicho."
"Goodnight, Nanao-chan."