Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
The thing about falling off the side of a building - a very tall building, that is - is that one tends to grab for the nearest available lifeline, regardless of what it may be. Instincts take over in a heartbeat and the will to survive kicks in; all you can think about is not dying, thank you very much, and hanging on for dear life. Ichigo had no idea what he had hold of, but it was soft and oddly textured and thankfully strong enough to support his weight as he hung helplessly in the air. “Jesus fuck!” yelled a familiar voice. “Gah! Ouch! Shit, Ichigo-” “Help me up!” Ichigo shouted back, wondering what Renji was waiting for. He tried to look up, but hot sweat dripped into his eyes and he squinted. “Hurry! I can’t hold on much longer…” From directly above him, Renji made a loud noise of complaint, a mixture of a splutter and a curse. After a moment, a strong hand was wrapped firmly around Ichigo’s wrist and squeezed hard. “Let go now, you bastard, that freaking kills,” Renji grumbled. It sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “Are you sure?” “Yes, hell, just let go!” As instructed, Ichigo slowly released his hold. Whatever he’d grabbed to stop his fall slipped silkily through his fingers, and he wondered if it was perhaps Renji’s belt. As soon as he let go, Renji’s other hand came down and he hooked it under Ichigo’s arm. With a number of ragged grunts, Renji began hoisting him up onto the rooftop. After quite a bit of struggling and effort, Ichigo found himself on solid ground again, albeit high ground. The Hollow they’d been killing was folded in a bloody lump before them, apart from its long, rat-like tail, which was detached from its body a few metres away, thanks to Renji’s zanpakuto and quick reflexes. That damn tail had flicked out quicker than fork-lightning. Ichigo hated himself for not being prepared - he was usually much more on the ball. Irritably getting to his feet, he winced as pain darted through his chest. Not only had the whiplash knocked him for six, but his hand was bleeding from where he’d scraped it across concrete as he’d toppled over the edge of the roof, trying to find something to catch on to. “Sodding thing, almost had me.” “What are you talking about, idiot - it did have you. If it wasn’t for me you’d be modern art across the road by now.” Ichigo turned to retaliate - after all, he knew he would have eventually remembered to use shunpo, before hitting the ground - but stopped and let out a snort of laughter when he spotted Renji. “Shut up!” snapped Renji, rubbing gingerly at his neck. “You pillock, couldn’t you have grabbed hold of something else?” Ichigo clamped his hand over his mouth and shook his head. “I’m ‘orry,” he chuckled from between his fingers. It wasn’t funny that he’d fallen, or that he’d reached out towards Renji for help. The whole point of going out on reconnaissance in pairs was that there was always someone to back you up if there was trouble. He couldn’t help snorting again though, as he looked at his partner. Renji’s robe top was stretched out ridiculously far on one side, and his ponytail, that was usually tied at the back of his head, was now hanging all wonky and tangled above his left ear. “Shit. Sorry I caught your hair, man. I just took hold of the nearest thing.” Ichigo tried really hard to straighten his face. Renji shot daggers with his glare. “Stop fucking laughing, Ichigo! Or this Hollow won’t be the only one split in two.” “Sorry.” He really was, but hell, he’d never seen the other shinigami look so ridiculous. “I honestly didn’t mean to laugh.” Ichigo cleared his throat and averted his eyes as Renji angrily tore the elastic band out of his hair and began retying it in its rightful position. Checking his watch, Ichigo realised he was already twenty minutes late for his next class. He doubted he’d have time to get back to his body and make it before the bell rang for lunch, so instead he turned back to Renji. “Want to go get cleaned up? There ain’t much point in me going back to school now.” “Ehh,” Renji said in answer, now fiddling with his collar. Ichigo took it as a good enough affirmative, reached down to retrieve his zanpakuto from the ground where it had fallen, and started making his way towards the roof ’s stairwell. After a moment or two, he heard Renji’s footsteps treading lightly behind him, catching up to him. A warmth curled in the pit of Ichigo’s stomach, but he ignored it. Taking two stairs at a time, he kept his head down until they were on ground level and out into the bustle of Karakura Main Street.
* * *
“Um, bathroom’s free now,” said Ichigo, towelling his hair off as he moved towards his bed. The fabric obstructed his vision and he felt rather than saw Renji walk past him; just the brush of soft fabric against his arm, the firm definition of muscles beneath it. Swallowing, Ichigo tossed the towel onto his bed and reached for a comb. He never bothered trying to tame his hair - that would be a totally pointless effort - but he found tempting it into a more purposeful chaos was better than letting it go all fluffy and embarrassing. He was still standing in front of the mirror when his bedroom door opened once again and then closed quietly. “So, uh… are you gonna bother to report that one?” he asked lightly, not taking his eyes off his reflection as he flicked the comb up through his fringe. “I mean, it wasn’t really anything to write home about, was it? If it hadn’t been for that tail, a four year old could’ve probably-” “If you’re worried about almost getting owned by a low-classed Hollow,” Renji interrupted, “don’t bother. I ain’t planning to report it.” Ichigo breathed out a silent sigh. “For your information, I’m not worried. I just figure it’s a lot of hassle getting Soul Society on the line just to tell ‘em we killed another one.” “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Renji. Ichigo could hear the other man moving around his room, putting something solid down on his bedside table - most likely his communicator - followed by a faint swishing sound. Curious, Ichigo turned and almost dropped his comb. That innocuous swishing sound? That had been material sliding over skin, he realised. Ichigo’s mouth dropped open, but thankfully no sound came out. Renji had slipped out of the top half of his robe, which was now hanging down around his waist in black crumples. His hair was loose and damp, spilling in tangled red waves down over his shoulders and back. It obscured parts of his extensive tattoos, but the rest weaved in intricate black, jagged lines between. Renji seemed unaware he was being observed; idly, he inclined his head to one side and tried brushing his fingers through his hair. He got so far down before he hit the vicious tangles and was forced to stop, hissing in discomfort. “Damnit,” he grumbled under his breath. “You could’ve gone for my arm or something instead.” Ichigo swallowed again and stared lamely down at the comb in his hand. Should he offer? No, it was… but then again, he’d… and Renji was still kind of… and really, anything to lighten the mood… “Oy, Renji.” “What?” There was irritableness in the shinigami’s tone. “Go take a seat, will you.” “Huh?” Renji finally gave up on his fruitless hair brushing endeavour and glanced over at Ichigo. Ichigo pointed to the chair tucked under his desk. “Go sit down.” Renji narrowed his eyes. “Why?” With a huff of exasperation, Ichigo waved the comb in Renji’s direction, then pointed it to the desk chair, hoping the message would get through. “Just sit the hell down! I ain’t planning anything bad.” He could feel heat rising in his face now. Maybe he should have thought his idea through a bit more before telling Renji to take a seat. At first, it seemed like a good enough plan, since he still felt a bit bad for laughing at Renji, especially since the guy had technically saved his life. Or rather, Renji’s hair had saved his life. But now, as Renji finally relented and went over to pull the chair out, Ichigo started to fully realise the awkwardness of the situation. He wasn’t an authority on the matter, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t normal for a guy to go brushing another guy’s hair. Renji seated himself with an audible “humph” and folded his arms across his chest. He stared resolutely ahead at the wall with his mouth pursed. Too late to back out now, Ichigo supposed. He started this, so he knew he would have to get on with it. He raised the comb in front of him like it was his zanpakuto and took a step forward. Chill... it’s just Renji. Just Renji’s hair, for Christ’s sake! Hair that was smooth and cool like new silk, he noted, as he tentatively grasped it with his free hand. Renji was still and silent as the grave, which wasn’t really helping things, only making Ichigo even more aware that it was quiet in the room and he was touching Renji’s hair. As a favour. As an apology. Touching it. Like a freaking hairdresser or something. He just thanked the lord Keigo and Mizuiro weren’t around to see this - he would never, ever live it down. Carefully, with slow strokes of the comb, Ichigo began to navigate his way into the worst of the tangles. His knuckles brushed briefly against bare, warm skin, and he quickly retracted his hand, feeling like an idiot. He eyed Renji’s neck briefly, then let his gaze drop. Shifting from one foot to the other, he concentrated on smoothing out the knots, holding Renji’s hair at the root in a ponytail to keep from pulling on his scalp. The other man gave no signs, no signals that it was uncomfortable or not, which Ichigo took as a good thing since Renji was almost always verbal when unhappy about something. With that small reassurance in mind, he continued to work through the long strands of red, finding it oddly relaxing; it was something in the motion, his breath coming slower now, moving in time with his hand. Up... down stroke... up... down stroke... He wasn’t sure how long it took to unweave all the knots, but it felt like slowly trickling hours. By the time Ichigo could pass the comb smoothly through Renji’s hair without a hitch, his arm ached dully. At the same time, he felt incredibly mellow, like nothing in the world could bother him at that moment. It was unusual, especially so close after a Hollow fight. It often took him hours to fully wind down. It was only seconds later that he realised, with surprise, that he was still at it, even though Renji’s hair was finally clear. Instantly, Ichigo stopped and let his arm drop to his side. “Um, it’s done.” There was no response for a few seconds, and Ichigo started to wonder if perhaps Renji had dropped off to sleep. Before he had the chance to poke Renji in the head with the comb, the other man sat forward, the ends of his hair dragging over the back of the chair as he moved. “Oh right. Great.” “Sorry if that hurt or something. It was pretty knotted.” “Nah, it’s fine. Didn’t hurt.” Renji rose from the seat, stretched a little. For the first time since Ichigo had begun, he could see Renji’s expression as the other man turned to face him. For once, Renji’s forehead was slack and not showing any signs of a frown or his familiar frustration lines. Something in the set of his mouth seemed softer than usual, too, as if all the curses he usually stored up were momentarily gone. Ichigo blinked. “Oh,” said Renji, quickly pushing the chair back under Ichigo’s desk and straightening it. “Thanks for that, and all.” “No problem.” Tossing the comb onto the bed, Ichigo reached up and brushed at the back of his neck. The relaxed atmosphere had lifted fast, now replaced with an awkward, heated kind of silence. “You know, least I could do and everything.” “Right. Yeah.” In hindsight, Ichigo could have stepped back a bit further when he’d finished brushing Renji’s hair. He could have gone to his dresser and fiddled with his school bag, in the pretence that he was getting his homework out. He could have approached his mirror and pretended to check himself over. He could have left the room entirely, gone and fetched them something to eat, something to drink, something - anything, to do instead of stand near each other and just kind of… stay there. He now wondered why he hadn’t done any of those things. He couldn’t look Renji directly in the eyes, so instead he looked down, but oh shit, that was a mistake - there was skin everywhere! Naked skin! He’d managed to avoid Renji’s body so far, but now it was right there in front of him, so close he’d only need to put his hand out a little way to touch it, to feel that skin and the rise of muscles and the planes and hollows and every twitch and movement - Gah! No! “So I’ll get going. Gotta get back to Sereitei and um… do stuff. Stuff I had planned.” Renji’s bared chest rose and fell fast. Ichigo forced his eyes away, off to the side, to the sharp edge of his desk. He pictured himself bashing his head against it. It didn’t help much. He wished he had kept hold of the comb. At least it would have been something to anchor him, to stop him thinking about black on pale cream and the violent red of silk and that mesmerising, calming feeling, the up and down motion… “Ichigo?” “Huh!” Ichigo jumped; Renji was very close now, speaking directly into his ear. “I said bye.” “Oh… I see. Yeah. Bye.” Renji didn’t move. Nor did Ichigo. Renji still didn’t move. Ichigo was starting to feel way too hot, and that thumping sound - the one in his ears - was getting way too loud to be normal. Rooted to the spot, with Renji a hair’s breadth away, Ichigo realised something had to give soon or he was going to go mad. A tight, nagging throb was building in his gut, and lower, in his abdomen, unfurling and turning there with a growing insistence. Why wasn’t Renji walking away, leaving like he said he was? Then again, Ichigo couldn’t figure out why he was also paralysed, stuck there and helpless. Maybe it was something in the air. He turned his head a fraction, opened his mouth to say something - something cool like “yeah I’ve got to go into town and meet all my friends now, so see you later” - but nothing came out. There were no friends waiting for him in town. There was just him and Renji in his quiet, suddenly too small room, frozen like statues time forgot and quite unable to think straight. Then came the snap - the give Ichigo had been needing. A solid weight pressed against him, a second thumping beat joined his own pulse. Renji was all around him then, in touch and in smell and that underlying electricity that always buzzed between them, and when he darted his tongue out to moisten his mouth he found Renji’s lips and shuddered. He swallowed the heady taste of fresh sweat and almost moaned. The curling ball of energy in his abdomen tightened significantly and when he managed to draw a breath Renji exhaled deeply, and said ball of energy plummeted below his belt line, spreading out in rising waves of anticipation and excitement. He felt the light touch of fingers on the back of his neck. Before Ichigo could think about it further he was tilting his head up a fraction, tasting Renji’s skin again, his mouth and - oh god - his tongue this time, right there ready for him. Kissing back was not a thought, it was somehow just happening. Ichigo closed his eyes tightly and tried not to push his hips against Renji’s. Instead, he focused on the slide of Renji’s tongue, the texture and movement, back and forth, back and forth - God, but he was hard as a rock now and sure it was no secret. Panicking, he reached up and clutched at the first thing he found for support, instinctively wanting to hide. What he found was soft and smooth and familiar - Renji’s hair. In turn, Renji let out a low, growling sound that was definitely not a warning, but no less intense. It only served to turn Ichigo on more, and he wondered how the hell they’d gone from out on a routine reconnaissance to… to this a mere hour later. Everything was happening fast and fucking insane and he could do nothing but hold on and stifle his groans, his teeth catching Renji’s lower lip by accident. He was almost surprised when Renji started to pull away, and turned his head up just a little before he caught himself and stopped. “Shouldn’t… um,” Renji said quietly, almost a whisper. His voice came out gruff. “I’m leaving now.” Ichigo could finally swallow, and did so, loudly. “All right.” What else could he say? Dazed, he did not look at Renji, his vision vaguely unfocused and attention on nothing in particular at all. His body was thrumming in a familiar, frustrated way but he couldn’t move just yet, not until Renji was gone. He wanted so desperately to touch himself, relieve the ache at his groin, as fast and hard as he could, but gah, Renji! Renji made to move, paused, then continued. As he walked behind Ichigo towards the door, his hair brushed Ichigo’s elbow, like a slip of fabric or a hushed breath. “See you later.” It wasn’t an unusual parting speech, but for some reason Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything more behind it this time. The ‘later’… did that mean…? “Later.” The door closed, Renji’s footsteps retreating along the hall towards the stairs. Ichigo found it odd that he used the door at all - didn’t Renji usually just jump straight out the window? And what the hell, he still couldn’t move. Listening until Renji’s tread faded to nothing, Ichigo willed his limbs into action. He pulled his t-shirt up over his head and threw it to the floor, heaving a sigh as cool air touched his hot skin. He grabbed the towel he had been using earlier to dry his hair and tied it around his middle, then shucked out of his jeans. “Shit. What’s wrong with me?” He was still so bloody hard and it wasn’t going to go away, apparently, no matter how much he swore at it. He wondered if he’d be able to will away the reason behind his arousal, the source of his new-found excitement. Then he wondered why the hell he was thinking things like that -
sappy things that had no right to be in his head. He winced, and although he
had already showered that day, he decided it was about time for another, much
colder one. ~End Title taken from an ancient saying ‘In hide and hair’; meaning ‘wholly’ or ‘entirely’. |
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