Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
With a bewildered expression, Renji stared into the closet, blinked twice, and then scowled. "If you think I'm getting in there-" "There ain't anywhere else for you to sleep," Ichigo cut in, sliding his closet door fully open to give off the illusion it was actually quite spacious. From the look on Renji's face, it hadn't worked. "Just think yourself lucky Rukia's staying with Inoue this weekend, otherwise you'd be homeless." He hated the situation just as much as Renji did, but he'd promised Urahara he'd put Renji up for a couple of days while the shop was redecorated. There was little he could've done to get out of it. Urahara had helped him on more than one occasion, and if Ichigo was anything he was fair. And maybe a little begrudging. Renji made a sound low in his throat that closely resembled a growl. He folded his arms across his chest, glared at the closet, then at Ichigo. "I'll take the floor." "What?" Ichigo raised his eyebrows. "There's not enough room on the floor." "There's plenty of room," argued Renji, turning and indicating to the available carpet space. "Right here." He dumped his rucksack beside Ichigo's desk and then pulled out a spare change of clothes ready for the next day. If the pale blue corduroy flares and yellow t-shirt were anything to go by, the guy had no fashion sense whatsoever. Ichigo figured Renji had been a Shinigami so long he had no need for human clothes, and therefore wouldn't be able to tell taste from tasteless. Still, Ichigo wasn't about to alert him of that. "Wait a minute," said Ichigo. "You can't sleep right there." "Why not? Stop complaining," grumbled Renji, sitting down to untie his boot laces. He struggled with them for a moment and Ichigo idly wondered how the hell he'd got them done up in the first place. "'Cause... 'cause that's right next to my bed!" Ichigo stepped over the imposing man and demonstrated this by pacing back and forth in the small gap between Renji and the bed. Very small paces. "That's as good as sleeping in my bed." Renji huffed, his brows furrowed as he picked at the triple knot binding his boot laces together. "Don't be stupid." "I don't see why you have to be here, anyway," said Ichigo irritably. "Why couldn't you have stayed with Chad, or Ishida. They both have their own apartments." "Because Urahara obviously doesn't feel you're capable of handling things on your own." At that, Renji smirked. "What did you say?!" Ichigo was a centimetre from hitting Renji in the head with a nearby text book. The bastard was always trying to wind him up and get under his skin. Actually, Renji Abarai was probably the most irritating person Ichigo knew, and next to Keigo and Kon that was saying something. The fact that Ichigo's family was in danger from a Bount attack just by being related to him wasn't something to be joking about either. He could take care of his sisters on his own - he didn't need the likes of Renji there hampering him. As it was, he realised there wasn't much he could do about the situation at that moment, but he'd definitely be having words with Urahara soon. He let out an exasperated sigh, deciding - with effort - to ignore the jibe. "All right, fine. But keep quiet and stay the hell away from my bed." "Like I'd willingly go anywhere near it," said Renji, lying down right next to said bed. He stretched his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. Apparently, the conversation was over. As Ichigo turned off his desk lamp and pulled back his bed covers, he pictured himself stepping on Renji as he got up the next morning. At least there was one advantage to the current situation, as much as the whole thing made him uncomfortable.
* * *
Ichigo was not having a good night. It didn't help that Renji kept making weird noises while he slept - little snuffling sounds that weren't quite snores, mumbling, or sighs. Ugh. Ichigo considered throwing a pillow at his head, but that would only wake him up, and that would only lead to arguing, which would most likely lead to fighting. Ichigo couldn't deal with fighting right then. Actually, any physical contact right then would have been nothing short of mortifying. He tried not to rub his hips against the mattress, instead carefully turning over on to his back. It might've been a need-to-piss erection, for all he knew. They tended to all feel the same - insistent, frustrating, untimely. Still, Ichigo couldn't get up to deal with it because bloody Renji was right there on the floor next to him, and if he looked up at the wrong moment he might see Ichigo's silhouette and gah! Ichigo would rather impale himself on his own zanpakutō. Things with Rukia had been far less complicated, in a way. She had kept to herself, pretty much, unless a Hollow appeared or she needed help opening juice cartons. A sigh rose from beside the bed and Ichigo heard Renji shifting restlessly on the floor. He'd been like it all night so far, and it was really starting to get on Ichigo's nerves. He was pent up enough already, without that infuriating twit making things worse. "Oy, could you keep it down." Ichigo rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, willing his body to relax, his mind to clear. "It's this gigai," came Renji's muffled voice from below. "It's too heavy. Moves oddly." After a moment, Ichigo heard more shifting, then the floorboards creaking a couple of metres away. Renji had risen. Ichigo let his arms fall back against the bed and turned to his left, cracking his eyes open. Bad idea. Since when had Renji taken off his t-shirt? The other man was standing in the center of the room in a shaft of milky moonlight, his arms held out at either side of him, back long and bared. He stretched widely, bringing his arms up over his head. Ichigo watched silently, noting the flex and strain of Renji's back muscles, the way shadows warped and dipped across his skin as he moved. Another thing: his violent red hair was loose and tangled, hanging low down his back. If Ichigo squinted, it almost looked like dark blood running down canvas in thick waves. It was... it was... sickening, really, how Renji could walk around someone else's room like that! Practically naked. Ichigo pursed his lips and turned over, stifling a gasp at the movement of his pyjama bottoms, all soft and warm against his erection (that hadn't wilted one bit, damnit). He hated himself at that moment, hated his own body for not doing what he told it. Why now, of all times? "Hey, Kurosaki," said Renji in a quiet tone from behind him. "What is it?" Ichigo said shortly, wishing the other man would just shut up, lie down and go back to sleep. "Did you and Rukia ever...?" "What?!" If Renji was getting at what Ichigo thought he was... He turned back over and stared at the outline of the other man. "Just making sure." Renji sounded relieved, and a little smug. "She's too good for you, anyway." "Shut up." Ichigo fidgeted under his bed sheets. The night was too hot, his temper was too short, and everything felt inherently wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like girls. He just didn't like like them. Well, not yet. He held hope that it would kick in soon; that he was just a late starter. He kept telling himself he'd get interested, in wake of Keigo and Mizuiro salivating over their female classmates every day, joking about tits, short skirts and long-socked legs all the sodding time. Ichigo liked some girls just fine. Inoue was all right. And Rukia was pretty cool, when she wasn't yelling at him. He just didn't want to do the stuff Keigo talked about after gym class in the changing room - dating and kissing and touching them. He'd give it time. He'd been busy lately, what with the Shinigami distraction, and the latest threat from the Bounts. Ichigo opened his eyes and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. Until a face drifted across his line of sight and came into focus. "Argh, what the heck are you doing?" Ichigo sat up sharply, his forehead connecting with Renji's chin. "Ow, shit!" "Kurosaki!" Renji barked, making Ichigo's name sound like a curse. "Watch it!" Rubbing his forehead gingerly, Ichigo scowled at him in the dim light. "That was your fault, idiot. What do you want?" "Just checking you weren't lying to me about Rukia, that's all," said Renji, poking at his chin with a wince. "Get over it, will you. I don't even like Rukia like that." "Why not?" The Shinigami was a persistent bastard, that was for sure. "She's always keeping on at me, for a start. Just like you do. Not a minute's peace." "There's little peace in our line of work," said Renji, pulling out the desk chair and turning it to face Ichigo's bed. He sat down. "And I have every right to be concerned about her." There was no way Ichigo was going to get any rest, he realised. Not that he was particularly tired any more. The whole day had turned out to be an utter shambles. He adjusted the sheets across his lap, even though his problem had thankfully wilted after he'd headbutted Renji's face. "You have no right sticking your nose into our business." "So there was business between the two of you?" Ichigo's patience had run out some time ago. "NO, would you stop asking. You're just jealous - anyone could see it. It's really sad." "I'm not jealous! And certainly not of you." Renji's eyes glinted in the moonlight as he looked Ichigo up and down. "Scrawny, gangly thing that you are." "Oy! I ain't gangly." Ichigo pointed at the door. "Get out," he snapped. "I've had enough of you." Screw Urahara and his request - it was asking too much. He should've just said no in the first place. For Christ's sake, everyone knew him and Renji didn't get on, even at the best of times. "No," said Renji. "Damnit, don't make me kick you out." Renji laughed at that, a deep, rumbling sound. "As if I'd let you." Ohh, that was a challenge. Ichigo was riled up enough to ignore the warning bells in his mind. He wanted this pillock out of his room, out of his house, out of his life. He kicked his bed sheets off and launched himself in Renji's direction. The other man managed to dodge him, but due to Ichigo's bedroom being the size it was he didn't get very far. There was a crash as Renji fell against the bookcase, books and magazines spilling onto the floor, the noise like miniature thunder and paper rain. "Yeah, just wake up the whole house," snarled Ichigo through clenched teeth. "You can do the explaining to my dad and sisters." He made another grab at Renji and this time managed to catch a handful of long hair. Renji's yell was thankfully cut off as Ichigo jerked him backwards, a strangled, pained sound. "Get off me, you little bastard." "Aah!" Ichigo caught Renji's elbow in the cheek, stumbled back and went down heavily. He cursed just before Renji fell on him, realising he still had hold of his hair. He'd be damned if he was going to lose to the likes of Renji in his own damn house. If only he could get his hands on his zanpakutō... instead, he locked his forearm around Renji's neck and squeezed. There was an almighty struggle, of which the details were hazy but definitely awkward. Ichigo wasn't sure at which point the ridiculous biting and half-hearted punches changed to clinging and struggling wildly on the carpet. But all of a sudden, everything went dangerously south and extremely hot. More books tumbled onto the floor as Ichigo's right foot connected with the shelves, only this time it wasn't to lever himself up, but to slide himself a little further across Renji's hip, because he was sure if he did that something wonderful was going to occur; his body was positively screaming at him to make it happen. Renji muttered something a little too breathless to decipher. The strange thing was, Ichigo was sure the other man had more stamina, fighting power and grace than this. Actually, he was sure he did, too, and yet he couldn't raise his arms, only clutch Renji's sweaty shoulders tighter. He couldn't kneel, only allow himself to be pushed over onto his back, his arm awkwardly caught between his body and his bedside table. Helplessly, Ichigo thrust his hips upwards, following his instincts which had always worked for him in the past. But damn, Renji was heavier than he looked, and only bore down harder and faster until Ichigo was panting in gasps and had a mouthful of Renji's hair. He squeezed his thighs at either side of Renji's hips, to make him stop, to make him go faster still - he wasn't sure what he wanted. He had a strong sense that he was going to regret this stupid fight, but he had never backed down from confrontation before. He dug his fingertips into Renji's shoulders, bucked up beneath him and forced a scream back down his throat, letting it erupt painfully somewhere near his chest. All the frustration he'd been feeling reared in violent waves, all down his body. Ichigo found himself paralysed momentarily. He bit out a curse and screwed his eyes tightly shut. He didn't want to think about what this fight meant. Not now, not ever. Ichigo gradually became aware of Renji's hot breath on his neck, moistening his t-shirt collar. He felt the pulse of Renji's cock shortly after his own, the vivid heat that spread a few moments later at the point where their hips connected. And slowly, gradually, Renji fell still. It took a few short seconds before the solid weight moved off Ichigo. He hadn't opened his eyes, and wasn't sure if he could. He was aware he'd just come in his pants. He squirmed, but although he was loath to admit it, he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. Boneless, almost. This was not what he'd intended when he'd... oh, God, when he'd attacked Renji. Renji. The breathing next to him was levelling out, just like his own. Renji cleared his throat. Twice. "I'll just-" "That didn't just-" They both shut up. Ichigo needed to move soon, or his pyjama pants were going to end up glued to his leg. "Kurosaki, that-" "Shut up," said Ichigo, with little ire. "I have no idea what's going on." "It goes no further." Renji sounded equally flummoxed. "Just stop talking." Ichigo swallowed. He hadn't thought about what the others would say if they found out. He sincerely hoped his reiatsu hadn't just done something weird and they were on their way, thinking he was in trouble. Panic took over and he shot up on to his feet, seeing awful mental images of Ishida, Chad, Inoue and Rukia bursting through the door to find him and Renji like this. "Shit, I have to... Will you just get up!" he whispered harshly. "There's... er... a box of tissues on the desk." He kicked Renji's leg once, then darted out towards the bathroom to clean himself up. He kept expecting to hear Rukia's voice, Chad's heavy footsteps in the hall. He splashed cold water on his face and neck, blinked at his flushed face in the mirror. It did little to clear his daze. His pants were damp from where he'd scrubbed them with a flannel when he finally walked back to his room, but it was better than being all sticky. It was dark inside. Renji had closed the blinds Ichigo usually left open on hot evenings. It was possible to just make out the shadow of Renji, sitting once again on the desk chair, his head lowered. "I'll sleep in the closet," was all the man said, rising as soon as Ichigo closed the door. Ichigo was in no mind to feel bad or discuss the point. In fact, after what had just happened, it was probably for the best. He didn't want to wake up to see Renji lying on the floor beside his bed in a few hours time. If he had the option, he would vote to never see Renji again. Was it possible to forget or ignore such a thing? Ichigo doubted it. He avoided Renji as he crossed his room. He pulled a clean pair of pyjama pants out of his chest of drawers and changed quickly, thankful for the darkness. Before he settled back against his pillow to fret and mull over the evening's events, Ichigo heard his closet door slide softly shut. He thought he heard a sigh, too, but that might've been his imagination. He didn't like to dwell on it, although it was hours before he finally fell asleep. ~Fin~ |
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