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I Want To Touch His Hair That Way	By : debbiechan Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Renji/Ishida Views: 2240 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite created Bleach and the characters in these stories, and I make no profits from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-I Want To Touch His Hair That Way
- 1
I Want To Touch His Hair That Way

by debbiechan

for Neha

Disclaimer: Kubo Tite invented Ishida Uryuu and Bleach. I
make no money from fanfic; I am but a humble poet who is hard gay for all three
proper nouns in the first sentence of this disclaimer.

Description: Shounen-ai. Yaoi. Gay.
R. Ishida POV. Part of my RenIshi series that started with �Satisfaction� (http://community.livejournal.com/bleachness/68718.html),
this ficlet contains a snippet of a happening retold from Vesperh�s lovely
RenIshi �Someone� (http://community.livejournal.com/bleachness/127728.html)

Ever since Kubo-sensei introduced us to Shinji�s stereo and
its �jazz from the Living World� in the Turn Back the Pendulum arc, I�ve been
listening to ragtime and random jazz stuff and 1960s smoky caf� music and writing
Bleach fic. Yeah. Wrote this ficlet listening to Nina Simone reinventing songs
in a way that made my insides hurt and understand.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNtEUtdUA3Y� �Good Bait�

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7U8PfVL0JnY
�Ev�ry Time We Say Goodbye�

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4uFh0KxQTY
�Black is the Color of My True Love�s Hair�

Oh and this ficlet is dedicated to Nehalenia because she loves
poems, RenIshi, and writing long-ass intros to fics.

--------------------------------

1.

�I�m just a no-good dog.�

Abarai said shit like that all the time, and early in the
evening when the neighborhood dogs were being walked, their barking reminded
Ishida of what a lonely world this was.

The Akita
two houses down yapped at everything and nothing.

Wiping his hands with a towel, Ishida stood at the kitchen
sink. Listening for a human voice and not hearing it. The dishes were done. His
homework was done. Three weekends now and Abarai hadn�t come.

Answering the Akita
in the streets with long, ridiculous yodels was a small dog who
belonged to the upstairs neighbor. Another dog Ishida didn�t know soon joined
the carousing. And another, a happy barker, and another, a
soulful howler from many streets away.

Ishida found himself walking to the front window.

Dreary twilight made it hard to see. Or maybe he needed a
new prescription. Ishida took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, reaching out
with his other senses to feel for the Living and the Dead. So many lonely
people walked the sidewalks.� So many lonely
spirits hovered above them.

�Alone
had not always meant the same thing as lonely.

How could something as simple and biological as having sex make
the difference?

It was just succumbing to a need. Stupid
sex. A challenge with another person that was like
a fight. The rising urge, fingers clenching, the instinctual
following-through.

It�s not like I�m in love or anything.

Just thinking the words doomed him; Ishida knew that.

Oh fuck. Anything but in love.

The first time with Abarai Renji had been a shock partly
because of how un-traumatized Ishida felt afterwards. It had been sex with a guy;
it had been sex with Abarai of all people; and still the whole ordeal,
emotionally at least, had felt like more like hate-making than
love-making. �Even the give and take of
pleasure had felt like a passionate exchange of insults with the usual result--Ishida�s
feeling triumphant because he�d proved himself the smarter one.

Ishida still wasn�t quite sure how he�d come out a winner,
especially since Abarai was the one who started it all, and surely it had been
some feat to break down Ishida�s resistance. Quincy composure wasn�t kissed into
submission by just anyone.� Ishida had
felt proud, though, for surviving--and for having taken some of the wind out
the Shinigami in the process.

The physical aftermath had been nothing but
strangeness--lying there in damp exhaustion while Abarai, with only the balls
of his fingers, and the gentlest, not-quite-ticklish touch, had petted Ishida�s
forearms, shoulders, chin and lips.

He had lifted strands of Ishida�s hair with cupped hands
then opened his fingers and let the strands fall.

Yet Ishida had been unmoved. Not a changed person. Still a
virgin somehow, even though his ass bled and his innocence felt like it was
evaporating right off his soul the way cold sweat left his naked body.

�Do you feel satisfied?� Abarai had asked.

�What do you mean by satisfied?�

Abarai had snorted in frustration. �Listen, I�m not going
to get all philosophical and all. What I meant was � are you ready for
some more now? Or do you want to take a rest or something? Are you satisfied?�

�Hell, no.�

And every time after, Ishida had meant to prove that his
human body could keep up with a vice captain of the Gotei 13�s, that he, Quincy
archer, could take the reiatsu exertion like a man, that he could learn to lick
cock the way Abarai did without gagging and hold off coming because he did that
more easily than Abarai anyway and needed to show off. The struggle for the
first fuck was like a game in a dojo and the competition mattered for the
honing of skills rather than the winning of the game, and it was just sex, a
personal and exciting secret, but just sex.

And falling asleep naked in somebody�s arms? Just something
that happens, a natural thing like morning or night. All that affectionate
pawing Abarai liked to do, all that stroking Ishida�s forearms and slobbering
on his neck, showed that the Shinigami was a big, friendly dog--it didn�t mean
anything special. Abarai was a touchy-feely, un-analytical and hands-on person.
He didn�t really care for a human in any special way. No, he didn�t. No,
he didn�t.

In fact, during one weekend�s furlough from Soul Society,
Abarai had told Ishida that he loved his childhood friend from Soul Society.
That was no surprise to Ishida.� He�d
guessed as much from the pair�s interactions, how they acted liked familiar
ages-old buddies but Abarai looked at her with something bordering on
reverence.

Abarai had been in one of his self-deprecating I�m-just-a-no-good-dog
moods, dangling his arm off the side of the bed like he was trying to catch
something that wasn�t there. He�d been listing his losses--from the lowest
kidou scores in his Shinigami graduating class to how he�d failed to be the guy
to win Kuchiki Rukia�s heart. �You wouldn�t understand,� he had said,
�You don�t know what it�s like to be in love with a woman who�s in love with
Ichigo of all the useless bastards.�

And Ishida had gone red-hot, his shame exposed because he�d
been lying there with no clothes or blanket.

�What? Tell me! Who do you--?�

In the end, Abarai had guessed, because even a dolt like him
would have guessed Inoue-san eventually.

And it had bothered Ishida that Abarai was shocked to
discover that Ishida was interested in girls at all.

�So I figured you for one-hundred-percent fancy
boy�that�s not an insult. It�s this world of the Living that has weird beliefs
about fancy boys. Where I come from there�s nothing to say you can�t be girly
like Yumichika and still not be � well, you know � a fighter and a real man.�

Ishida snapped shut the blinds and drew the shades.� He could still hear the neighborhood dogs
barking and sense the neighborhood Living and Dead ambling through the
twilight.

The next apartment over smelled like teriyaki over-cooking
and the television was turned to an opera channel. Something
German yet romantic � Strauss? Abarai hated symphonic music.

Ishida missed the surprising subjects the Shinigami could
bring up at 3 a.m. That conversation about Inoue-san and �fancy boys� and what
it meant to be a man had been the stupidest, most confusing conversation Ishida
had ever had, but the fact that he could have it at all seemed miraculous in
retrospect. Could anyone else have gotten Ishida to admit his own ambivalence
about his sexual orientation? Maybe Inoue-san. She had
a way of disarming people with her goofy honesty that wasn�t much different
from Renji�s forwardness.

�I don�t know. I am a Quincy but beyond that, I don�t
know who I am and what I want,� Ishida had said that night, trying to cover
up more of his nude body with the blanket as he revealed more about his secret
self. �I might like to have a wife and children someday. I�m not the type,
though. I�m too selfish.�

Ishida laid his glasses on the windowsill and dropped his
body into the sofa. His brain felt over-full and he pinched the bridge of his
nose.

We�re friends. All of us. Kuchiki-san, Inoue-san, me, Sado-kun, Kurosaki, Abarai.� Things should�ve stayed simple.

Abarai had come to the Living World whenever he could,
whenever he had official leave and sometimes when he didn�t, for one reason
alone apparently. From the moment he showed at Ishida�s window and stepped
inside, he didn�t step outside until it was time to return to Soul Society. He
came to see Ishida. �

He hadn�t come for weeks now.

�I don�t want to do this anymore,� Ishida had said
one morning, anticipating that Abarai would want to argue about the matter.

�Yeah?� A
look of disappointment like when he couldn�t watch the futsal* world
championships because Ishida didn�t own a television. �I didn�t think
this was your style anyway and you�ve got a human life.�

�It�s not like that--� But Ishida hadn�t gotten a chance
to explain because Abarai looped his leg over Ishida�s hip and brought the two
bottom halves of their bodies smashing together. At the time, Ishida had
thought the gesture and its fervent follow-through to be �Abarai�s way of saying no to
Ishida�s I don�t want to do this anymore.

But that had been the last time, and when Ishida remembered
it, Abarai�s goodbye kiss had been especially hard and deep.

The front door to the apartment
building creaked open, and Ishida could hear his upstairs neighbor jingling a
chain and being followed by four long-nailed feet up the staircase. �Honey,�
the man called it although Ishida wasn�t sure that was its proper name. The man
was American and given to endearments like honey and precious. �Are
you tired, hon? Let�s have a big bowl of water. My honey is getting along in
years. Yes, Old Lady? We�ll go for a shorter walk tomorrow evening.�

Something smarted in the space between Ishida�s eyes,
something frowning didn�t help.

This feeling wasn�t new, was it?

If there had ever been a time when Ishida didn�t know
loneliness, he didn�t remember it; as a child he didn�t have a name for the
feeling. And then there had been times when he liked being by himself. �Alone, lonely, alone, what was the
difference?

This was an oppressive feeling that sat on his bones and
weighed on his muscles. This feeling stung behind his eyes and ached in his
skull. The longing for sex might be relieved with a shower (and a hand that now
seemed way too slight and only reminded Ishida of Abarai�s broad palm and giant
knuckles), but there still would be a physical pain left.� The ache of longing for
something that wasn�t just sex.

Yes, a shower was necessary. Ishida began to undress. More
drastic measures, however, were necessary to alleviate this loneliness. In love, whatever. �I can fix this. Ishida had not
anticipated the severity of the loneliness when he decided to push Abarai away.
And why had he done that exactly? Everything had been going fine.

Ishida turned on the showerhead and leaned into the stream
with his mouth open. I can be so shortsighted sometimes. He�d been
confused, that�s all. It made no sense to try to figure out things by himself. Maybe he needed a dolt like Abarai to help him
figure things out.

No use suffering for no reason. Ishida was not a fool. Struggling
alone made less sense than struggling with someone else, even if that someone
was a Shinigami, a ghost from another world, a being who didn�t belong in the
Living World but maybe belonged in Ishida�s life.

Water ran past the creases of a smile. Deciding to act felt
a little bit like winning already.

2.

�You!�

The look on the face of Ayasegawa Yumichika said that he
knew who Ishida was to Abarai. It hadn�t occurred to Ishida before that Abarai
talked about his visits to the Living World. Abarai had friends. Lots of them. Maybe all Soul Society knew.

�Ishida Uryuu,� said Madarame Ikkaku. His eyes were round
with surprise.

�Congratulations on having correctly identified me.�

�How the hell did you get permission to come here?� Madarame
wanted to know. �You�re not dead, right? Since when does Soul Society let in
humans just to--�

�Maybe he isn�t here to see Abarai-kun,� said the Shinigami
with the feathers on his face. �As the sole representative of the Quincy from Earth, he
could have official business with the new Central 46 or � a sewing mission?�
The feather eyelid winked. �You don�t have to tell us.�

Ishida was trying hard not to blush and failing.
�Urahara-san invited me.�

It was the truth. Demanding passage through a spirit
converter, Ishida had sent a message to the newly re-installed captain of the
twelfth division via Kurosaki Ichigo (a relentless Quincy glare had finally
shut up Kurosaki�s questions), and Ishida�s request had been granted with a box
of taiyaki and a note that read �Would you like to be my guest in the
Seireitei, Ishida Uryuu? Eat a sweet.�

One bite of a custard-filled carp cookie and Ishida had been
transported to the doorstep of� what appeared to be the shared
residence of Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san.

The bald Shinigami sniffed and crossed his arms. �Captain
Urahara is a weird one. Why did he send you to us?�

�What�s in the package?� The other Shinigami bounced his
feathered brow and pointed at the box in Ishida�s hands. �A
gift for us? Or for Abarai?�

�Neither.� Ishida pressed the box of taiyaki to his chest.
Who knew where the rest of the little fish could transport him? He didn�t want
to visit with these two, no matter what Urahara�s intentions may have been. He
reached out with his senses for Abarai�s reiatsu.

Ayasegawa pointed to a place behind Ishida�s head this time.
�Abarai-kun lives--�

�I know,� Ishida said with irritation, only noting after his
hirenkyaku whisked him from the scene that he�d confirmed his reason for coming
to Soul Society.

Abarai Renji.� A reason to risk looking like a fool.

Ishida looked for a window--it would be appropriate to
appear at Abarai�s window since Ishida�s third story windowsill was where the
Shinigami always showed up, but Abarai�s house was one of many small,
traditional windowless homes on a rocky bluff.�
Nice places, obviously officers� or seated Shinigami dwellings, and
because it was twilight, there were smells of cooking in the air and a few
people were outside to watch the sun set.

It mattered what the neighbors thought.� Here, unlike Abarai in the Living World,
Ishida could be seen. He stared dead ahead and swore he wouldn�t answer if
anyone said hello. He was going to walk to Abarai�s front door but passed the
house and turned around it.

Ishida had wanted to make a discreet appearance at the back
shoji screen, but it was wide open and Abarai was already standing there,
barefoot, wearing a thin red and white kimono, his hair braided over one
shoulder, a complacent look on his face.

�How the hell did you get here?�

�Urahara-san.�

�What�s this?� Abarai had grabbed the box, opened it and was
already eating a sweet fish before Ishida could speak. �Mmm,
my favorite? Did I ever tell you that?�
Did Captain Urahara? What�s his deal--is he playing matchmaker?�

It was too late to stop Abarai--he swallowed several of the
sweets. �Ishida gasped. �Those taiyaki!�

But Abarai didn�t disappear into another dimension, and
Ishida wondered how he was ever going to leave Soul Society when he had to. He
guessed he�d really have to visit Urahara for the answer.

Abarai turned and walked to place the box of mysterious fish
on a low table and Ishida followed him.�
Ishida had expected Abarai to be more joyful upon seeing the Prodigal
Quincy who had tossed him away. What�s the deal? He doesn�t even look
surprised.

Ishida hadn�t counted on being beaten this early. Well,
maybe he wasn�t beaten but part of the plan had been to disarm Abarai with the
element of surprise. It wasn�t like Ishida had expected to conquer all the
mysteries of this relationship right away but he hadn�t planned on being thrown
into total confusion so soon.

�I was about to call it an early night,� Abarai said in the
most ordinary and casual of tones. �I�m no good with the entertaining thing but
you can help yourself to whatever you want around here or �.
� With a slap of his palm, Abarai knocked down a bundle from against the
wall. �You can come join me.� He kicked the bundle and a futon rolled open.

�But--I--� Ishida made some sputtering sounds of indignation
but couldn�t speak yet.

�What�s the matter? You didn�t come here for any other
reason but to get laid.� Abarai sounded a little angry now, petulant almost.
�Tell me different.�

�I--��
Ishida felt his very scalp burn. He tugged at his collar. He
didn�t want to argue but that was just part of being around Abarai, wasn�t it?

Abarai grinned. �Look at you in your Quincy duds. Haven�t seen
those for a while. But dressing up like that was just to make it look
like you were here on some official business, right?�

�I--� Ishida really needed to pull himself
together and speak. His clothes were a matter of pride for him. �Of course I�m
representing the Quincy
whenever I leave Earth. Before going through a spirit converter, one must--�

�Eh? You�re a spirit now?�

Abarai was standing over Ishida suddenly. He was a head
taller when they were this close. Ishida had forgotten the height difference
because they�d so often been horizontal in the Living World, and maybe Abarai
held himself taller here. Ishida remembered Abarai scrunched in his window,
lounging on the sofa, looking awkward and large in Ishida�s desk chair.

Abarai set his palm on Ishida�s shoulder and ran his hand up
the nape of Ishida�s neck, into his hair.�
�You feel the same,� Abarai said. �I haven�t had you in spirit form
before.� He leaned over to brush his lips over Ishida�s lips.

�Aba-Aba-rai.� It wasn�t a proper
kiss; it was an excuse to breathe on Ishida�s face and make him more confused.
Both of Abarai�s large hands were on either side of Ishida�s face now, lifting
strands of hair between fingers, letting the hair fall.

I want to touch his hair that way.

Whether Ishida had always wanted to and stopped himself or
whether the urge was new, he didn�t know. All he knew was that the speeches
he�d planned weren�t going to work. He didn�t want to argue with Abarai; he
really did want to get laid.

But it was more than that.

Ishida caught the tip of Abarai�s bright red braid with two
fingers and began undoing the strands.

�May I call you Renji?��
The braid required fingers to unravel until Ishida came to the middle,
and then the hair spilled apart in waves and waves over Ishida�s hand. A
softness familiar to Ishida but he�d never focused on this one feature before.

Abarai�s breath had hitched. It was irregular now and
falling in warm patches over Ishida�s face.�
�You asked,� he said. �I always thought you�d start calling me
Renji one day.� A kiss on Ishida�s forehead. �You
don�t have to ask.�

�Of course I have to ask.� Ishida was embarrassed despite
the tender proximity of a lover�s face. �I wasn�t brought up to make
presumptions about familiarity.�

�I presume stuff all the time,� Abarai--no, Renji
said. Renji put both hands firm on Ishida�s shoulders,
Renji pressed his fingers into Ishida�s cape and his mouth against Ishida�s
mouth.

His tongue presumed its way inside Ishida�s cheek.

I had more things to say. I need
to be certain of a few more things.

A taste like the
cream custard inside the taiyaki. A thorough kiss, a
welcome home. As always, Ishida was aware of the strangeness of the
situation. His spirit body kissed another spirit body in a land far from the
Living World but it was still as warm as home, warmer than home. It was
comfortable here, near a dense, sultry presence that was Renji.

But I need to talk first--

Renji wasn�t a talker, but his
kisses said a lot. They always had. These kisses spoke of relief and joy, an
end to his own loneliness. They also said that he was
impatient with bending over so much and that the futon was only steps away.
Ishida felt the pressure of spread palms against his lower back and realized
that he was about to be lifted like a girl and carried off somewhere for
lovemaking.

�Wait.� It was awkward to interrupt,
but Ishida felt such things were his duty. �Aren�t we going to talk first?�

�Sure, Uryuuuuu,� Renji
breathed into his ear. �I want to hear you say Renji. I want you to say
it over and over.�

A simple shove against Renji�s
waist knocked him over on his ass, and Ishida was straddling him. There. That
solved the problem of being whisked away bridal style before he could catch his
composure.

Ishida�s hands were combing through
waves of unbound hair. �You didn�t ask permission to call me Uryuu.�

�I didn�t need to.� Renji kissed
him again, not so dominantly this time. �I want to hear you say my name. You
still haven�t called me Renji. Say it. Say Renji.�

He sounded like he was teasing, but
he was serious. Ishida knew this.

It felt good to be challenged
again. The confusion was still there but the helpless feeling was gone. The
sluggish, lonely feeling was gone.

�Say Renji. C�mon, you can do it.�

�Make me.�

And the challenges met one another
like mouths, open to all possibilities. Renji fell back on the floor and his
hair fanned against the tatami matting, and Ishida ran his fingers through that
hair, through as much of the softness and warmth as he could grasp.

End

* According to Kubo Tite�s �top secret information� about
Abarai Renji in the Official Bootleg, �(Renji) likes futsal, and spends
quite a bit of effort to assemble a team in the 6th division.�
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I Want To Touch His Hair That Way