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The Noble Sort	By : Melissarose8585 Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 4411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or make any money off of this story. All rights belong to Tite Kubo.

Chapter List
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A/N: Only an epilogue left, guys. The song outtake at the beginning is from Kate Winslet's lovely performance in "Romance and Cigarettes." Awesome movie.

Enjoy! R & R!

"The Noble Sort"

Tell me your love is true...

Like I love you.

Too many times romantic words are spoken,

Too many words of love are said in vain.

Too many times a foolish heart is broken,

And left with just a memory for a token.

How can I know that you...

Won't hurt me too?

She stared at him as he took in his surroundings, most likely making note of the easel and the massive amount of cd's sitting by the stereo she had stuffed in one corner. It was playing softly, strands of piano and guitar that were calming floating into the air.

She felt a brief moment of relief at the fact that the painting was turned away from him. He could learn a lot about her from those two things if he was as observant as she thought he was.

Keep your cool, girl. If you do this right it'll all be over soon.

"Well, then?" she said quickly, crossing her arms. "Apologize so we can get this over with and move on with our lives."

"You are still angry with me?"

She blinked.

"Minako," he said, sighing, and he took a step towards her but she backed up, bumping into the table. "Fine—I won't come near you. But this is ridiculous; not only will we have to work together at some point, there are other considerations—"

"I can work with you just fine right now, if I have to. I'm mature enough to handle that. I would just prefer not to see you outside of any forced contact."

He ran a hand through his hair and gestured at her couch. She nodded warily, watching as he sat down heavily.

"I—I am sorry, Minako. It was a very long day, with too many surprises. I was…upset, and I know that does not justify the way I acted. But can you at least understand why?"

"I understood then," she replied demurely.

"But you haven't let me apologize!"

"There was really no need—and I was angry, too. But I knew why—I understood." She glanced at the clock she had hung over her small personal desk—it was almost eight. "If that's all, then, consider it all over and done with. Let's just forget this whole thing ever happened."

She moved to the table, hoping to get some more of her painting done before she tried to go to bed, but his words stopped her in her tracks.

"That's it?"

"Of course," she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

"I have been chasing you around for over a month, barely able to get within speaking distance, and that's all you have to say?"

"There isn't anything more to say, Ukitake-taichou."

"You'll—you'll just leave it at this, then?" he asked her in disbelief. "I—I thought—you said you lo—"

"Don't," she warned, turning back around to face him.

"Were you lying, then? I don't believe you were," he said forcefully, standing up from the couch. He stalked over to her—once again she envied his height—and she tried to back up but there was nowhere to go. The easel and the table were behind her. "I know I acted rashly—"

"Rashly?" she exclaimed. "I'm rash. That was—it was—well, it wasn't rash! And for the record," she said, straightening her back and trying to make her five feet and almost three inches stretch to match his six feet three inches, "I never say anything I don't mean."

"Neither do I!"

"Exactly!" she said triumphantly.

He gave her a look of confusion.

"You never say anything you don't mean—you might have been angry, but you meant it. That's all I need to know."

"I can't even begin to understand what you mean," he said, the look of confusion still on his face.

"Heartless—soulless, even. Cruel, callous, uncaring," she spit out. "This is what you think of me. All because I went through something you probably can't even imagine and felt relief at seeing the men who tormented me for years finally get what they deserved."

"And I'm sorry I said it! You've never said something wrong in anger? I highly doubt that, Minako."

"I tend to think before I speak."

"And I knew I was wrong as soon as I left! I tried to make it up to you, I know I was—do you know how badly I felt once I realized what I had said? Sitting in your house, seeing that you obviously weren't anything like what they had made you out to be—"

"You were in my house?" she asked, her tone low and menacing.

"Who do you think helped procure the evidence you needed for your trial? We both know Shunsui cannot stay on task."

She looked like someone had slapped her.

"Oh, I don't know, Akane? Nanao? Hell, I would've gone for the blind guy in front of my corner market in the human world! No one ever said you went!"

"You wouldn't let me near you!" he shouted, his cool finally gone. "It was the only way to see what you had been doing while the rest of us were here mourning you—I wanted to see your life! You never told me anything about yourself when you were here, only gave us glimpses of who you were. So yes, when I was presented with the chance, I took it! I wanted to see who you really were!"

"That's an invasion of privacy!"

"Minako—"

"You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me! No one would want to be with someone they thought so little of," she said, letting out a cynical laugh. "I shouldn't have expected anything better, though. You're a man."

"What does that mean?" he said, brows furrowed.

"It means that, like every other man in every single dimension, you can't be trusted. This always happens to me—they start out so nice, and then Bam! And you," she said, stomping towards him and poking him in the chest with a finger, "you were the worst. So kind, and nice, and sweet, but underneath you're just as bad as the rest."

"That's unfair!"

"But it's true!"

"I would never treat someone like that!"

"You treated me like that!"

"You came to my bed, Minako, I did not come to you," he said, chest heaving, and she felt her stomach drop.

Soon, though, his face crumbled with shame. "I—I shouldn't have said that, Minako, I'm—" She held her hand up, stopping his apology, and then gave him a slow, brittle smile.

"You're right," she said slowly, lowering her arm. "And I tried to give you an easy out once I knew how you felt."

She felt him reach for her shoulders but she spun out of his grasp, using her smaller stature to duck under his arms. She moved quickly away, hoping to get some distance between them. She would have to make a break for the bedroom soon; she wouldn't let him see how much even this small argument had upset her.

"What are you talking about—"

"Please," she said sarcastically, still blinking the moisture out of her eyes. "We both know you don't—you can't feel the same way I do. After that night at the hospital you should have left well enough alone. There was no need to hash it out like this."

"I have no earthly clue what you mean," he replied, shaking his head.

"You. Don't. Love. Me. You can't. And that's fine," she said hurriedly, putting her hands up when he moved toward her. "But you should have left it all alone—I would've gotten over it even quicker if you hadn't continued to follow me around."

"You think I don't care about you?" he asked, an expression of shock on his face. "Minako, if I didn't care for you I wouldn't have traipsed all over Seireitei just to get a minute of your time. I even begged Genryuusai-sensei to speak to you—do you realize what that took?"

"I understand that! But it's—you're confusing trying to repair a relationship with your sensei's family with something else."

"I promise any argument with Hikaru-san would not affect me in such a manner," he replied with a sarcastic little laugh.

"I just came back from the dead—anything you felt was purely shock. You meant it, you see?" she said, but she had to turn around finally, her hand on the sliding door to her bedroom. The tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks.

"No, I don't see!" he replied, and she could hear the frustration in his voice.

"You meant what you said that night. No one can—love—someone they see that way," she said slowly, stutteringly, and then she slammed the bedroom door open. "Have a good night, Ukitake-taichou."

She stepped into the room and made to jerk the door shut behind her but he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and pulling her close to him.

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

One of his hands titled her face up, rubbing at the tear tracks on one of her cheeks.

"I shouldn't have made you cry." She got the feeling he was apologizing for more than just the tears on her cheeks. She tried to pull back, to pull her hands up and wipe them away, but he wouldn't let her loose.

"It isn't your fault—oh, God, I'm turning soft," she moaned out, letting her head hang. He pulled her to his chest and she felt the rumble of laughter before she stiffened at the realization of how close he was.

"Let me go," she said forcefully, pushing on his chest.

"No. Talking to you obviously isn't working in my favor," he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. She pushed harder but he had fifty pounds on her, even as thin as he was, and was definitely stronger. "I do love you, Minako."

"No, you don't!"

"Stubborn," he said, scolding. He bent down and kissed her square on the lips, and she froze. But it didn't last long. She jerked her face away and pushed at him again. "Stop telling me how I feel—I should know, don't you think?"

"I think you're confused."

"I think you think too much."

He kissed her again, at which point her brain and her body started fighting. Her mind said to pull away, to make him leave, but her heart was pounding, things even lower were beginning to literally throb. She couldn't deny that she'd wanted to kiss him, to have him hold her, since she returned. She was still a woman, after all. But—

But she wanted someone to care about her, just once.

To love her.

And she wasn't sure he really did. It was a confusing situation, and other emotions could feel dangerously like love. She knew from personal experience.

"Stop," she murmured, turning her head. His lips followed, but he began kissing her jaw. His hand was moving along her waist underneath her tank top, tracing the top of her pajama pants, and she fought to keep thinking, to just form words. To remember the anger that had taken over her just a few minutes earlier. "You can't."

"Why not?" he said breathily. "Shunsui said I should just grab you and kiss you."

"Don't ever take relationship advice from taich—ou," she said, her laughing statement turning into a moan as his hand slid across her back. "You can't. We can't."

"Again—why not?" He pulled back, looking into her eyes, and she realized she would lose the battle. The many dreams she had during her three years in the human world—three long years with no boyfriends—were flashing through her head, making her dizzy with desire.

"You—"

"If you say I don't love you…" he warned, a big smile on his face.

"But—"

"Let me make that decision, hmm?" He kissed her again, briefly. "Unless it's because you've found someone else? Shuuhei-kun was here with you, eating a late supper—you are in your nightclothes, there was a bottle of wine on the table..."

"I would never! He's a baby!" she exclaimed, affronted.

"That did not stop Shunsui," he laughed out before his mouth lowered to her neck. He began to walk her backward, towards her bed, and she almost let him get away with it. But then the back of her thighs hit the mattress and she stiffened, her back ramrod straight as she tried to push him away again.

He groaned, hanging his head.

"You really don't want this!" she exclaimed, and she felt his breath ghost across her shoulder at his huff. "I don't want you to make a mistake—I've made this mistake tons of times. It never ends well."

"I promise it will," he said, his arms going around her waist as he pulled her up and sat her on the bed.

"You can't promise that!"

"Has anyone ever told you that your stubborn streak would get you into trouble one day?"

"Stop—stop changing the subject. I won't let you do this—you're not cut out for the type of regret that comes from a meaningless fling. And I don't think I can handle it right now, not with you."

"Minako," he said, taking her face in his hands. She looked up at him and saw he was no longer smiling; he was serious. "I love you. I'm sorry for what I said, and I love you. Stop fighting me."

She looked into his shining, copper colored eyes. He wasn't lying.

He wasn't lying—still, could she trust him like this again? That's what he was asking for, after all, her trust. Part of her was fighting it, fighting against the possibility of getting hurt once again, but the other part—it was the part that had always gotten her in trouble—it said to trust him, that no one else would be as trustworthy as he, and that she should just stop fighting.

So she did.

She let him slip the tank top off over her head and bare her chest to his gaze, let him untie her pajama pants. She watched as he slipped off his own taichou haori before crawling onto the mattress, hovering over her.

She was surrounded by white hair.

It was amazing, finally seeing him like this with light, even if her bedside lamp didn't put off a great deal of it. But—if they were going to do this again, if she was going to put her heart on the line again, she wanted to do this her way. But she was still so conflicted—if the glimpses he had gotten of her made her think such horrible things about her, could she possibly be herself now? Ever?

Well, there were always ways to test it out…

She grabbed his shoulders and lifted her hips, ignoring his groan of desire as the lower half of her body met his, and she pushed. He was over and on his back seconds later with her straddling his waist.

His hands came up to grab her hips, and he gave her a smile that turned her insides to liquid fire.

"How much weight did you actually lose? I think my hands will fit around your waist," he murmured, and she leaned down to kiss him, to shut him up. She pushed his kimono apart forcefully, baring his chest to her roving hands. She could feel his own as he pushed her pajama pants down her hips—he would be surprised momentarily, she knew, and she smiled against his lips when he gasped.

He jerked back as far as he could against the mattress, a grin on his face.

"Really, Minako? Your fuku-taichou was in the room!"

"How would he have known I wasn't wearing underwear?" She laughed at his look of consternation then lowered, flattening herself against him to straighten herself out and kick off the pants.

Now she was naked as the day she was born above him, naked while he was still fully clothed. It was an intriguing sensation—one she never forgot. There was always an element of dirtiness in it that she reveled in.

"It still isn't right!"

She shook her head.

"You're worrying about my lack of underwear when I'm naked on top of you? Strange man," she murmured, kissing the flexing tendon in his neck. "You should be worried about having too much clothing on."

It took some maneuvering with them so close to each other, unwilling to let the other move too far, but she eventually pushed off his kimono and untied his hakama. He was very helpful, thankfully, which brought a true smile to her face, one he kissed and marveled at. Soon his hakama were gone, as were his own undergarments, and he was as naked as she.

Then she stretched, flicking off the small bedside lamp.

"I have already seen you, Minako." She laughed, lightly smacking him as he turned them over to once again end up on top of her.

"It's for comfort," she said, nuzzling his neck before nipping the lobe of his ear as his hands drifted down her ribs, her stomach, fluttering across her hips. "Besides," she murmured, "there are still many things about my body you don't know."

Oh.

Right there, please…

"I am still going to be sure you have a large meal tomorrow—you are unbelievably thin." She was sure he was scolding her but she couldn't bring herself to care as his hand finally found the one place she wanted him to touch.

She stopped thinking.

They were curled up in her bed, sheets riding low and his hand trailing from her shoulder to the base of her spine. Her hair was, for once, free from its ponytail—he had asked for her to take it down for him. There had been a token resistance, but the nuisance it could be was worth it when she saw the look in his eyes.

She had never felt so beautiful before.

But she could sense that his attention was somewhere else. Not surprising, if it was centered on sleep. He had thoroughly worn her out. But she got the feeling it was something else.

She turned a bit, looking at him over her shoulder.

"May I ask—" he started, giving a telling glance over to the very long table he mostly recognized from her apartment.

"My junk table?" he nodded, although she could see the amusement at her nickname for her keepsakes. She pulled the sheet up and tucked it firmly under her arms before sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"They're items from my travels in the human world. All special." A wistful smile crossed her face, one he had never seen before, that made her look more feminine than ever. "Wooden figurines from Africa, a Peruvian statue, a very expensive Wedgewood cup I bought in London. Stuff like that."

"Each has a story?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

She nodded, biting her lip.

"And?"

"You'll kill me when I say it," she said laughingly, blushing.

"What then? Is this like Shunsui's poems—each has a story that you cannot tell in polite company?"

"We'll leave it at that." He shook his head. "You really don't want to know. Trust me."

"Why do I have a feeling that these items might somehow involve not just impolite stories, but impolite stories about men?" he muttered.

"Because you know me better than you think." He fell back to the pillow, sighing somewhat dramatically, and she turned, moving to swing her feet over the edge of the bed. "I did warn you, you know."

She wiggled about, half bent over, trying to figure out where her clothing was in the pile of fabric on the floor. She usually got way too cold at night, even in summer, to sleep in the nude.

"Well?" he asked, his curiosity apparently overcoming his jealousy.

"The African figurines were a guy I met in Egypt touring the Nile. The sand—see, in the jar there—that came from the states, where they set off the first atomic bomb. A friend of a friend that had a dangerous streak even bigger than mine. The panda was from the Beijing Olympics—actually not a guy, but I did meet a crazy group of Americans that I had a blast with."

"And the rest?" he asked, now sitting up and watching, almost leering, as she struggled to pull her pajama pants on underneath the sheet she was twisted up in.

"Matsu," she muttered. She felt his palm ghost over the small grey flower on her back, tracing the lines of the tattoo she had received years ago on a trip to the beach. "Yes, that too. I had wanted one, but he was the factor that led to it actually happening."

"I was very blind, wasn't I? I'm usually much better at such things."

"I told you," she said, pulling her tank top over her head and righting it before turning to look back at him, "you were upset. A lot had happened—understandable."

"Well," he said, "the old Minako would have never excused it. And she would have had every right to be angry with me."

"I'm not really too sure who I am anymore. It's getting clearer, but I'm still confused." She shot him a lopsided smile. "It might be time for you to run like hell and save yourself."

"I think—I think you know exactly who you are."

They shared an intense look for way too long, making her more uncomfortable than she could remember being.

But she shook her head, crawling into the bed and scooting right up beside him. He was warm, and solid, and male. Just his scent was enough to make her senses tingle.

"Think you can deal with it?"

His arm flexed over her stomach as he pulled her closer.

"I'm still one of the best taichou, yes?" he said, teasing.

Minako struggled to wake up around five the next morning.

She rolled over, opening her eyes slowly and letting her arm inch across the mattress, searching for her lover. She soon realized, though, that all she could feel was cool sheet and a pillow; it shocked her into wakefulness abruptly. She pushed up, looking around, but there was no sign that he had ever been in her rooms.

No clothing, no haori, not even a white hair on the pillow.

She jumped up, pulling her hair tie loose and redoing her ponytail before padding across the chilly floor to the sliding door separating her bedroom from her sitting area. She slid the door back slowly, looking around, and couldn't help the small sound of shock she let out.

He was still here.

He looked up from the table, smiling at her. He was already dressed and ready to go but he had been nice enough to get her breakfast, which definitely won him points. He gestured to the tray across from him and she crossed to the table slowly.

"Good morning," he said, smiling.

"Good morning," she murmured as she sat down. He had even gotten the shishi at some point. The big black dog was lounging in the floor by his feet, an empty plate near his head. She glared at him. "You didn't."

"He was sleeping outside your door this morning. He followed me to the dining hall—don't worry," he said, laughing at her expression, "there were only a few of your division members up this early. He was whining, so I brought him something, too."

"He'll never leave you alone now," she warned.

"If it will buy me some time alone with you, I do not care," he said, his eyes locked with hers.

Tell him I still get my spot on the couch. He can't have it.

Oh?

Yes. And in winter I still get the foot of the bed.

She laughed, and wondered what alternate reality she must have entered.

"What did he say?" he asked as he sipped his tea, staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably.

The only person she had ever had to do breakfast with the morning after was Matsu. And they had known each other so long, been so easy together from the very beginning—no. She wasn't going to let him enter her mind today. Today was not about him or what he had done to her life, it was about what came after.

"He said you can't have his spot on the couch, and he'll still be hogging the bed in winter. But you seem to have passed the test—congratulations. You're the first one to ever do so."

"Perhaps he is smarter than his master," he replied, his eyes shining.

And that is why I have not bitten him yet, the dog preened in her mind.

She shifted again, letting her focus fall on the traditional breakfast he had brought them. She wasn't a big fan of breakfast, but it gave her something to focus on. She nibbled on a piece of fish and tried to ignore his heavy gaze.

"I must be back at my division by six. Otherwise the dynamic duo will pull apart Seireitei looking for me—I try to avoid their crazier antics as much as possible."

"Shuuhei will be here around half past—we usually go over the day's schedule before drills," she murmured, not looking up at him. But she couldn't eat anymore—she leaned down, setting the plate of fish in front of the black dog, which he immediately started eating.

"You should have eaten that," he scolded lightly. "How much weight have you lost?"

She was really getting tired of people harping about her weight; she couldn't gain it all back so quickly.

"One piece of fish won't make that big a difference. I don't usually eat breakfast." She finally glanced up, meeting his eyes for a moment. "Besides, I think you're thinner than I used to be."

"Not by choice." He set his now-empty teacup down lightly, taking the folded napkin from his lap and throwing it onto his tray.

She glanced up at him again, sure the discomfort and nervousness she was feeling was showing on her face. She really wasn't used to this. And the one morning they had spent together they had focused on other things—breakfast hadn't been on either of their minds that day.

"Minako?"

She met his eyes guiltily.

"You're nervous," he said, grinning like a schoolboy.

"Shut up."

"I never imagined—"

"Shut up."

She saw his chest rise and fall in silent laughter, and she glared at him. "I'm sorry—you just strike me as so much like Shunsui that I never thought—"

"I usually make sure I'm gone by this point. It's different in the morning for some reason."

"That will have to change. I did not spend a month chasing you to have you run off every night! And I like your rooms," he said, glancing around. "No Sentarou, no Kiyone. I wonder how often I can actually sneak out?"

"They don't know where you're at?" she asked in disbelief.

He gave her a sneaky smile that looked very out of the norm for him.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, jumping up from the chair and pulling him up out of his own, ignoring his laughter. She literally pushed him to the door, but he grabbed her hand before she could throw it open.

"Do you have anything pressing tonight?" he murmured, his lips falling gently against her temple.

"I—no. But you won't be doing anything tonight if you don't get back! They'll murder you before lunch!"

"Then I'll be by around seven. I'll be meeting Shunsui and Nanao-san for tonight's meal at the teahouse in the Second District. You'll enjoy yourself, and I can make sure you actually eat."

"Do I have any say in this?" she asked, looking up at him.

"No—if I give you time to think, you'll bolt." His hair flowed with the breeze as he leaned down quickly, whispering in her ear. "Don't make any plans for after, either. I do want to get a better look at that tattoo—I can just imagine sensei's face if he knew."

She resisted the urge to smack him, instead yanking his head down and giving him a swift kiss on his mouth. She felt his arms come up to wrap around her but she pushed them down, pulling away and turning him towards the door.

"Go," she commanded. "I'm going to have enough looks from my own division when they see you leave—I don't want to get it from yours, too."

He slid the door open, squeezing her hand once before giving her a brilliant smile. Then, instead of just walking out like she thought he would, he proved he was still a very powerful taichou by quickly flash stepping out of her vision, appearing briefly on top of an adjacent building before flashing away again. She leaned back against the doorjamb, thoughts running through her head a mile a minute.

She still felt a little confused, truth be told. Wasn't she angry?

She couldn't remember anymore.

"So he stayed the night?" someone asked teasingly, and she turned her head, glaring at her fuku-taichou. He appeared to her left from the shadows, a large grin on his face.

"Oh, shut up."

She turned to go back into her rooms—she needed to be ready in less than an hour—but his next statement stopped her in her tracks.

"Did you forget the traditional layout of the barracks?" he asked, still grinning.

"No—why?"

"Just—think about it."

It took a moment for his meaning to finally hit her, but when it did she blushed bright red. She sent him a furious look before slamming the door behind her, but she could hear him laughing as he moved off toward the communal buildings for breakfast.

All the officers quartered together. In every division she had ever seen, the fuku-taichou's rooms were right next to the taichou's quarters to keep them close in case of an attack. He had most likely heard everything that had gone on last night.

She was going to kill one of them before the day was over, she knew it.

But she was still smiling like a giddy schoolgirl.
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The Noble Sort