Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Shades of Grey	By : SilverKytten Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Urahara/Ichigo Views: 3536 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo; I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement. No profit/money is gained from any of my writing.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.

We Are Soldiers

Ichigo watched his father pace wordlessly into the room and felt Urahara tense almost imperceptibly above him. The reiatsu that had been coiled around his body, allowing him to move undetected, was starting to fluctuate under the strain of his anger. His eyes glittered with a manic fire as he stared down at his son, half naked and flushed beneath the object of his rage.

Yoruichi was slipping along the wall, pausing to pick up the sake jug so she could peer into it. He hadn't seen her in months. After the war, she'd come out of her self-imposed exile and returned to Soul Society to help rebuild. As a member of one of the four noble houses, her word carried a lot of weight, and her presence helped add stability to an organization that had suffered a number of demoralizing blows.

She wore a look of distaste as she sniffed the jug delicately, as if it somehow confirmed her worst fears. She looked up at Ichigo, but he didn't notice, his eyes had already fixed on a spot behind her where Zangetsu lay. He nudged Urahara gently.

"Who else did you bring with you?" the blond asked lightly, rolling off Ichigo and to his feet in one fluid motion.

"It doesn't matter," Isshin growled, finally tearing his eyes from his son.

"I beg to differ, Isshin." Urahara drew Benihime, resting the blade lightly against his leg, "They seem to be agitating my staff."

The thought of the kids being in danger finally shook Ichigo from his trance and he climbed to his feet, retying his hakama. He moved towards Zangetsu but Yoruichi stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"What do you think you're doing, Kisuke?" she demanded, staring over Ichigo's shoulder, shaking the jug sharply. "Has he been drinking?"

"I'm right here, you know." Ichigo gritted his teeth, giving her a hard look.

"Are you drunk?" She ran an assessing eye over him, wrinkling her nose at his state of undress as though she'd suddenly found a sense of modesty.

"Do I look drunk?" he countered, his eyes narrowed in warning.

"You gave my son alcohol and then tried to take advantage of him," Isshin spat, drawing his zanpakutou.

"I did no such thing," Urahara sighed, but Ichigo could hear the tension in his voice.

"He's just a kid, Kisuke, what were you thinking?" Yoruichi flung the jug down, shattering it and sending a wave of pungent liquor across the floor.

"What the fuck is the matter with you people?" Ichigo shouted, glaring between them.

"Stay out of this, son." Isshin didn't bother to look at him.

"The fuck I will." Ichigo growled, "You stay out of it, it's none of your business."

"I stood up for you, Kisuke," Yoruichi growled, "When Isshin came to me I didn't believe him. I told him that there was no way you'd do something like this to Ichigo, not after everything he's been through."

"I have done nothing to harm Ichigo." He spared her a look over his shoulder, his voice still calm.

"Then what do you call this? You give him sake and then try to fuck him while he's in a bad place." Her voice was cold. "I could feel the pain and confusion in his reiatsu from outside the building so don't lie to me."

"It wasn't like that," Ichigo shouted, but she continued to ignore him.

"I thought you were a better person than this," she bit out, staring at her long time friend in complete disgust.

"We all wish we could be stronger?" he murmured, his eyes unreadable.

"That's enough," Ichigo snarled, taking a step towards the blond only to be jerked back when Yoruichi's fingers closed around his arm. He rounded on her sharply, ripping out of her grasp. "Don't you fucking touch me."

"Ichigo." Urahara voice was spiked with warning.

He barely registered the shift in the air and he was already moving, just managing to slip under the arm reaching out for him. He staggered slightly, the alcohol in his system still warring with the adrenaline pumping through him. Soifon was crouched where he'd stood seconds before, her scowl made fiercer by the jagged scar running down the left side of her face; a reminder of her failed attempt to save her vice-captain.

"You will show Yoruichi-sama the proper respect," she hissed, turning to nod in the other woman's direction. "Two of my men are watching the others, they have been subdued and are unharmed."

"The fucking Shinigami are here, too?" He stared at her incredulously.

"No," Urahara corrected, dropping the placatory tone. "Seireitei would never sanction a move like this, she's acting without orders."

"I'm here in the service of Yoruichi-sama," Soifon informed him disdainfully.

"They're here because they care about you." Isshin finally spared him a glance, blade still trained on Urahara.

"No, they're here because you can't get it through your fucking head that I'm not some poor little boy who needs daddy to save him." Ichigo's reiatsu was starting to pulse. "I'm not interested in your bullshit right now, so just go the fuck away."

"Ichigo, calm down." Urahara looked worried, knowing that his emotions were already badly frayed.

"Don't talk to my son, you bastard," Isshin bellowed, taking a threatening step forward. "This is all your fault."

Ichigo saw Benihime come up and felt the tension in the room shift. He spun back to Yoruichi, "Why are you just standing there listening to him? You know me and you fucking know Kisuke, how could you believe this shit?"

She flinched slightly, but held his gaze, "What he's doing isn't right, Ichigo."

"He never did anything I didn't ask him to," he shouted, feeling something inside of him starting to slip.

She didn't reply but something in her eyes shifted, a soft kind of sadness flitting across their depths. He realized that it was pity. She pitied him. She was looking at him like he was some fragile, damaged thing, and he hated her for it. He hated them all for it.

"Fuck you," he hissed, wanting nothing more than to tear at her until she understood that he would never, never need pity from someone like her.

Soifon's eyes narrowed dangerously and she lashed out at him, forcing him sideways to avoid being struck. His lip pulled back in a snarl. He could feel the rage pounding in his ears as she came at him again. He started to lunge forward, but an arm slipped around his waist, pulling him back and out of range. Urahara turned, bringing Benihime between Ichigo and his would-be attacker.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered against the mess of orange hair, the tension rolling off of him in thick, smothering waves. "It'll be okay if you just stay calm."

Ichigo knew it was a lie, and as if to confirm that fact Isshin gave an animalistic bellow of rage. "Get your fucking hands off my son."

Urahara barely had time to bring his blade around before Isshin attacked, the clash of steel on steel deafening in the confines of the room. He released Ichigo, using both hands to push Isshin back, moving between him and the younger man. Ichigo spun, making a dash for Zangetsu, coming within inches before Soifon caught him. He hit the ground hard, just as Urahara and his father came together again.

"Isshin, stop it. This isn't what we talked about," Yoruichi shouted, even as she lunged forward to help Soifon.

"Get off of me, you crazy bitch," Ichigo snarled, kicking hard and barely missing her as she leapt out of the way.

He hadn't even managed to get to his knees when a force smashed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He felt something wrap around his body, like an invisible hand crushing him as he fell to one side, struggling weakly. He knew this feeling, it was a binding spell the Shinigami had used against the Arrancar, and judging by the strength, both Soifon and Yoruichi had hit him at once. He redoubled his efforts, it had been meant for the lower level forces, it couldn't hold someone of his power indefinitely.

Urahara and Isshin were furiously engaged, the former sticking to simple defense while the latter seemed out for blood. Ichigo had never seen Urahara look as young and vulnerable as he did in that moment, barefoot and shirtless, pale hair drifting into his eyes while he spun. His usual mask had slipped and the emotions danced across his face. His eyes flickered to Ichigo, sparking with fire.

"Let him go," he shouted, trying to drive Isshin back, trying to reach the boy writhing against the floor. "You don't know what you're doing. You can't do that to him."

Isshin, sensing his distraction, dove forward, forcing his opponent off balance, managing to slip under his defenses. Urahara realized his mistake a second too late and felt the bite of steel on flesh as he spun away. He fell back against the wall, clutching at his chest, blood welling between his fingers from a long, angry gash. Isshin charged again and he dodged under the attack, the force of the blow tearing a hole in the wall where he'd been standing.

"Isshin, stop!" Yoruichi shouted, crouching over Ichigo, though whether to restrain or protect was impossible to tell. Soifon watched them impassively, as if immune to the violence occurring before her.

Urahara felt a surge of reiatsu from the hall and heard Ururu screaming, trying to get to him, sensing that he'd been injured. He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sound, jumping through the newly formed hole to avoid another strike. He felt his anger rising, pounding through his blood like fire at the people who had dared to come into his home and attack those under his protection.

Isshin started to follow him out but he pushed back savagely, looking for an opening to disarm him, still unwilling to take the fight to the next level. The commotion in the other room rose in pitch and he knew something was wrong. Someone was shouting and wild bursts of reiatsu pulsed through the building, carrying their owner's rage and fear straight into his bones.

"Kisuke-san!" a scream from the hall was accompanied by the pounding of feet.

Ururu slammed into the doorframe, narrowly avoiding the Shinigami perusing her. She pushed free, surging forward as he lunged for her, twisting midair to kick him away. There was a flurry of movement and suddenly Karin was there, leaping forward, driving her shoulder into the man's back. He stumbled but kept his feet, turning to face the new threat only to be blindsided by Jinta. They all went down in a tangle of struggling limbs.

Ururu didn't stop, didn't even slow, as she pivoted towards where Urahara and Isshin still battled furiously. Soifon was already moving to intercept her, but Ururu was too fast, slipping under her outstretched hand, feeling some hair pull free as it twisted in the grasping fingers. She leapt against the wall, using it as a springboard to launch herself at the man who she viewed as the greatest threat.

Unfortunately, she'd lost most of her momentum evading the two Shinigami, and Isshin hadn't been a captain for no reason. Sensing the danger he spun, unaware of what he was facing, only that it meant him harm. He lashed out wildly, catching her across the face with a heavy forearm, knocking her against the far wall with a sickening crunch. She bounced, hitting the floor and skidding to a stop in a boneless heap.

Ichigo could hear people screaming, but he couldn't make out what they were saying as he stared at the petite body lying just feet in front of him. He saw her lashes flutter and sweep up over dazed eyes. Blood was trickling from her mouth and scalp, spreading across her porcelain skin and dripping down to stain the floor. She pushed herself up on shaking arms and some blood that had pooled at the corner of her eye rolled down her cheek like crimson tears. He tried to reach her, pulling hard against the spell, and her eyes swung up to meet his.

"Ichigo-san," she whispered, struggling to her knees, crawling towards him.

"Run," he whispered back at her, the ringing in his ears shutting out the sound of his own voice. "Run away."

People were moving, rushing forward, rushing towards her. Behind her, he saw Karin break free, her lips pulled back in a snarl of pure rage. She was throwing herself at Yoruichi who had stepped over him to reach for Ururu. He felt his heart constrict; they were trying to touch her. Isshin was moving forward, wide eyes fixed on the small body. She was still trying to crawl, trying to reach him, trying to help him. She was still crying her bloody tears. His mind was screaming. They weren't allowed to touch her, he wouldn't let them.

A dizzy wave of nausea swam through the combatants as the full force of Ichigo's reiatsu crashed into the room, violent and unstable. He twisted, shaking off the binding spells like a dog shaking off water. He was on his feet before anyone saw him move, Zangetsu in his hand, crouching over Ururu. The air seemed to burn around him. Urahara felt the surge of rough energy and knew what it meant, tried to get to him in time, but it was too late; Ichigo was already drawing his left hand across his face as he lunged at his father.

Isshin froze as he saw the mask forming under his son's fingers; saw the tendrils of black creep over his eyes towards the already yellow irises. Ichigo's reiatsu spiked again, nearly forcing him down on one knee. He managed to get his zanpakutou up in time to avoid being decapitated, but the force of the blow sent him staggering backwards. Ichigo gave him no time to recover, driving forward, smashing into him with a force that took him off his feet. His shoulder slammed into the ruins of the wall, sending pain lancing through him as he passed through the newly formed hole and into the empty lot behind the property.

Ichigo leapt through the opening, launching himself into the air, snarling down at the man who was trying to right himself. "Bankai!" His voice held neither emotion nor recognition.

Isshin had one brief glimpse of Ichigo streaking towards him, tattered coat snapping and black daito hissing through the air, before he was on him. Sparks licked across the edges of their zanpakutous as they smashed together, the force of Ichigo's reiatsu sending shockwaves out around them and driving Isshin back to his knees. As soon as he was blocked Ichigo was gone again, moving so fast that Isshin couldn't track him.

There was a flash at the corner of his eye and he turned in time to see his son land a few feet away. Ichigo raised his left hand, pointing two fingers at his father, growling low in his throat. A ball of red energy formed in front of him, and Isshin's eyes widened in horror as he realized Ichigo was preparing to use a Cero against him. He rolled to his feet but Ichigo had already let it fly with a savage yell.

"Sing, Benihime!" another voice screamed, and the world seemed to dissolve into chaos.

Isshin was thrown to the ground as a blast of crimson energy passed overhead, smashing into the Cero, exploding with a force that was like a physical blow to his chest. Through the raining debris he saw Urahara land in a crouch in front of him, not bothering to look back. Ichigo moved again, disappearing from sight as he shifted into his bankai enhanced shunpo. Urahara spun sharply, apparently more adept at tracking his movements than Isshin.

"Getsuga tenshou!" Ichigo shouted, firing a wave of black energy at the two men.

"Sing!" Urahara countered, throwing up a crimson shield and bracing Benihime against his forearm.

The blast smashed into the barrier and Urahara gritted his teeth as he was pushed back, one knee digging hard into the jagged ground. The shield held, but only by the smallest margins, a web of cracks scarring its surface as it fell away. He heard Yoruichi shout his name but he ignored her, hoping she had the sense to stay away. He was already panting heavily and there was no time to rest because Ichigo was moving again, coming straight for him.

Benihime met Zangetsu as he surged up to meet the younger man, pierced by that hard yellow stare. They fought savagely, vying for dominance, twisting and slashing so fast that they were little more than a blur to those watching helplessly. Ichigo was fast, too fast, and Urahara knew the only reason he'd lasted this long was because he was intimately familiar with Ichigo's fighting style. Still, he was out-classed and he knew it.

He managed only another minute or two before Ichigo pushed him past his limit and he faltered, leaving a fatal opening. Ichigo slipped Zangetsu under his defenses, wrenching his arm sharply, tearing Benihime from his hand. He bit back a cry of pain as he was forced to one knee to keep his bones from snapping. Ichigo's hand shot out, tangling in his hair, pulling him up as a blade pressed into his throat. He tried to relax, demonstrating his submission, praying that some part of Ichigo still remembered where he was.

Ichigo leaned forward, rubbing against Urahara's cheek, forcing the mask away from his face and onto the side of his head. He pulled back, studying the man in his grasp with cold black and gold eyes set in an expressionless face. He cocked his head slightly to one side, leaning forward again, brushing the tips of their noses together in an affectionate caress as the blade fell away.

"Oh, thank the fucking gods!" Urahara breathed in an unusually expressive display of relief.

"I'll always recognize you, Kisuke," Ichigo murmured, releasing the hold on the pale hair and turning back to face the shop.

Yoruichi stood just outside the wall, being physically restrained by Soifon and staring at him with haunted, fearful eyes. When she saw him release Urahara she stopped trying to fight, falling to her knees and looking like she might be sick. Karin and Jinta were just climbing out of the opening, flanked by Kon, of all people, who was bleeding from his nose and the side of his neck. Soifon tilted her head, looking behind them but her men were nowhere in sight, apparently having succumbed to their attackers.

Ichigo ran an apprising eye over all of them before his gaze finally came to rest on Isshin, standing only a few feet away. He reached up, pulling the mask from his head, staring down at it for a moment before smashing it against the ground. The darkness seeped out of his eyes, though they were still as hard as ice as he glared at his father.

"Is this what you fucking wanted?" he yelled.

Isshin balked at him. "No, I-"

"You're a fucking liar," Ichigo cut him off, stepping forward, his face twisting with anger. "You came here for blood; you came here because you need to hate someone for all of the shit in your head that's not their fault."

"Ichigo, I-" Isshin faltered.

"Do you need someone to hurt for you, dad? Do you need someone to bleed for you so that you can feel like a better father?" Ichigo was screaming now.

Isshin took a step backwards, his face paling.

"If you need to hate someone, then hate me, I don't care anymore." He took another step, following the larger man's retreat. "If it's blood you need, then I'll bleed for you, dad, just leave everyone else alone."

He pressed Zangetsu against his shoulder and slashed forward, the blade sinking deep through cloth and muscle. He ripped the sword free, arching it through the air, sending a splatter of crimson droplets across his father's face.

"Is that enough?" his voice lost all emotion, blood trickling from his fingertips. "I can give you more, if you want, it doesn't even hurt. I can't feel anything anymore."

Karin leapt forward as he raised the blade again but Urahara beat her there, knocking Zangetsu from his hand and pulling him back against his chest. He slipped to his knees, dragging the younger man with him, curling around him to whisper into his ear. Isshin was still rooted in place, fingers coated in blood he'd wiped from his cheek as Karin stepped past him without a glance. She bent to retrieve Zangetsu, approaching the pair on the ground hesitantly.

Isshin seemed to regain his senses; he took a tentative step forward. "Ichigo, son, you have to-"

"Shut up." Karin's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through everyone present. Isshin paused and she turned on him, her gaze hard. "Just shut the fuck up."

He looked like he was going to try again but she cut him off, "This is all your fault. You can't ever leave anything alone. You have to dig and pry and pretend like you understand what's going on, but you don't. You don't understand anything, so just shut up."

Isshin's jaw clenched, "Karin, you don't-"

"I said shut up!" she screamed, raising Zangetsu between them, gripping the hilt in both hands to support the weight. "I don't care what you think. No one cares about what you think, because this isn't about you. I don't care if you're mad that Ichi-nii had the balls to go and fight when you didn't; or if you want hate Kisuke because he understands your own son better than you do. None of that has anything to do with helping Ichi-nii, so I don't want to hear it."

"Karin, I'm trying to protect him." Isshin pleaded, the tip of the sword wavering in front of his chest.

"The fuck you are!" she shouted up at him. "And it doesn't matter, because even if it was true, you can't. You can't make him give you his problems when he doesn't want to, they aren't meant for you. Fuck, you wouldn't even know what to do with them, because you don't understand them. You can't understand them. All you do is make things worse and you don't even care. You just keep doing the same shit over and over again because you're not doing it for Ichi-nii, you're doing it for yourself. Just fucking leave him alone already!"

She would have gone on, but a hand closed over her fingers, prying them gently from Zangetsu's hilt. The arm curled around her, pulling her backwards into a hug.

"That's enough, Karin; you don't have to fight anymore." Ichigo whispered against the back of her hair before standing to face the others. "I've had enough, I'm leaving, and so are all of you."

His eyes speared his father, daring him to speak, before moving over Yoruichi and Soifon who had remained still throughout the entire exchange. "This is over. If any of you touch Kisuke or any of his staff again I'll kill you. I've had enough of this shit so just go home."

His tone left no room for argument, and even the battle hardened Soifon flinched under it. He stared at them for a moment longer before pivoting sharply on his heel and stalking away.

"Ichi-nii, wait," Karin called after him.

"I'm sorry, Karin, I can't." He didn't even look back, using shunpo to carry him away into the gathering dusk.

Karin stared at the spot where Ichigo had last stood, feeling a cold lump settling in her throat. A hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up to find Urahara standing beside her, staring at the same spot. He gave the shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning back to face Isshin.

"You need to leave," he said plainly, sweeping his gaze over the others as well. "All of you."

Yoruichi flinched. "Kisuke, I didn't mean for it to go like this. I thought…I don't know what I thought, but it wasn't this."

"You should have asked." He looked at her sadly. "And you should have known better. How long have we been friends?"

"I'm sorry." She dropped her gave to the ground. "I just wanted-"

"Just go," he cut her off, sounding tired. "I can't have you here right now."

She nodded shakily, turning to Soifon and muttering something too quiet to hear. They disappeared back into the building, presumably to locate the two missing members of the Special Forces squad. Urahara turned back to Isshin, half expecting some argument, but none came. He looked old and broken.

"Come on, Karin, we're leaving." He turned, heading back the way he'd come.

"No." The softly spoken word brought him up short.

"What do you mean no?" he asked her dangerously, shooting a look back over his shoulder.

"I mean no, I'm not going anywhere with you." she spat, "I don't want anything to do with you right now."

"That's enough; I'm not just going to let you do whatever you want. You're only 13 and it's not safe to be running around after dark," he informed her, his tone final. "We're going home."

"No, you're going home," she shot back. "I'm done with this."

She turned, stalking into the growing darkness in the direction that Ichigo had gone.

"Get back here, Karin," Isshin shouted.

"You coming, Kon?" she called back, ignoring her father completely.

The mod soul brushed by Isshin, giving Urahara a brief shrug before jogging off to catch the dark-haired girl. Isshin looked like he was planning to follow but Urahara stepped between him and their retreating forms.

"It's time for you to go home, Isshin," he said softly, his eyes hard and unyielding. "Kon is more than capable of protecting her."

"She's my daughter," Isshin bit out.

"Yes, and if you want to keep her then you're going to have to let her go." Urahara smiled sadly, stepping around the larger man and making his way back to the damaged store.

(*)

It was two hours later and the darkness had fully set in when he stepped into the park and found her sitting against a tree, twirling a stick between her fingers. The light of a nearby lamp cast soft shadows around her face, hiding her eyes from view. Kon was perched on a branch a little ways above her, shredding a leaf absently and raining debris down into her hair. He didn't seem to be doing it intentionally and she didn't seem to notice. Neither of them was speaking, but Kon gave him a brief nod as he approached.

"Come to check up on me, Kisuke?" Karin's head tipped back as he came to a halt.

"You sound like your brother," he mused, crouching down in front of her, wincing as the skin on his chest pulled. "And, in answer to your question, yes I'm checking up on you."

She nodded, not looking particularly surprised, "Wanna share my tree?" She waved a hand at the grass beside her.

He smiled slightly and lowered himself into the spot, slipping a hand inside of his clothing to make sure he hadn't reopened his wound. Karin noticed the movement and frowned.

"It's fine," he assured her, "Tessai is still tending to Ururu and I am by no means critically injured."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Her eyes dropped back to the stick in her hands and she snapped it savagely in half.

"She will be fine, she is very resilient." He watched her closely, sensing a particular agitation in her aura. "I owe you my thanks, by the way, for your daring rescue of my staff. Your timing was uncanny; yet another trait you share with your brother."

She shifted uncomfortably, "It just sorta happened. When Kon got home and told me about my dad showing up at Ichi-nii's school I got suspicious. When he didn't come home I figured we should make sure he wasn't up to anything."

"Still, it was very brave of you to attack the Shinigami and free the others. I am indebted to you both." He tipped his head back to meet Kon's gaze through he leaves.

"It wasn't brave." Karin's voice was soft. "I didn't even think about it. I just saw them struggling with those people standing over them, and I lost it. One of them tried to grab me and Kon jumped on him, then it was all sort of a mess. I should have thought about what I was doing, but I was just so mad."

"You did well," he assured her, and then frowned. "What's bothering you?"

She didn't reply and he looked up at Kon again, seeking answers.

"She thinks it's her fault that Ururu got hurt," the mod soul supplied. "Because she bolted as soon as she was free and no one could get to her in time."

"I should have had a plan or something," she muttered, her eyes still downcast.

"You're too hard on yourself," Urahara chided. "You did what you thought was best, and that's all anyone could have asked of you. Ururu is grateful, I assure you."

"But she shouldn't have gotten hurt, maybe if I'd gone after dad instead…" She looked up at him, her eyes full of worries far too old for her.

"You can never know what might have happened," he sighed. "It could have turned out differently, but who's to say it would have been better. We're all still alive. It's best not to second guess yourself needlessly."

She leaned her head back against the tree, staring out into the darkness as she considered this.

"Did you know that Ichi-nii wouldn't hurt you when you jumped between him and my dad?" She broke the silence again after a few minutes.

"No," he admitted softly, "I was actually fairly certain that he was going to hurt me. It wasn't until the last moment that I was even sure he knew who I was."

"So why do it?" she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Why risk your life for someone who was trying to hurt you; someone who'd already hurt Ururu?"

He picked up the remnants of her mangled stick, rolling it between his fingers as he thought. "It didn't seem to be in your brother's best interest to allow him to kill his father in a fit of blind rage; no matter how obtuse Isshin was being at the moment."

"You'd die for him, wouldn't you?" she asked quietly. "For my brother, I mean."

"Gladly and without hesitation," he assured her, not even pausing to think.

"And what if he'd killed you, what would that have done to him?" she wondered aloud.

"I did what I thought was best at the moment, and we're all still alive so I think I'll refrain from second guessing the decision." He smiled softly.

She finally cracked the barest hint of a smirk, "I think you're full of shit sometimes."

"You're certainly not the first to think so." The smile spread to his eyes as he pushed to his feet, offering her a hand.

She met his gaze, allowing herself to be pulled up. "I don't have anywhere to go," she admitted finally.

"I figured as much," he sighed dramatically. "But as I have only lost one wall today, I think I can manage to find you a place at the shop."

She shrugged, but seemed relieved. He turned, looking up at Kon, "Are you coming as well?"

"That depends," the mod soul smirked at him, jumping lightly to the ground. "Do you think you can keep your hands off me if I do? I know you have a thing for this body and I wouldn't want you mistaking me for Ichigo." He ran a hand lightly down his chest.

Kon had never outgrown his habit of trying to lighten the mood with slightly warped humor, and Urahara appreciated the gesture.

"I think I can manage to contain myself for one night," he assured him dryly and Karin snickered beside him.

"Please, you know I'm hot." Kon rolled his eyes, dropping an arm around Karin's shoulder much in the way that Ichigo often did. He steered her back in the direction of the shop, not bothering to look back

Urahara just shook his head and fell into step with them, though he did take the time to run a finger up the back of the mod soul's neck, right where he knew Ichigo was particularly sensitive. Kon shivered, cursing under his breath, and Karin chuckled again. He found that he rather liked the sound of her amusement.

(*)

Urahara stepped under the spray of the showerhead and winced as the water stung the gash on his chest. It wasn't terribly deep, just enough to open up the nerves and make the surrounding flesh overly sensitive. He turned, resting his forehead against the tile wall, letting the hot water sooth away some of his aches.

He'd sat with Ururu until she was patched up; tucking her safely away in her bed with soft words to sooth her anxieties. He'd also had Tessai look over Karin and Kon, because spirited or not, fighting with members of the Special Forces was dangerous business. Luckily, it seemed that the Shinigami had been told to use as little force as possible with their prisoners, so no one had sustained serious injury. He'd ordered everyone to their beds, brushing off Tessai's attempts to tend to him until the morning. The large man looked as exhausted as everyone else from the ordeal, and there was no reason to overwork him for a trivial scratch.

He'd been lost in thought for awhile when he was interrupted by the door between his bedroom and the bathroom sliding open. He turned, watching the flicker of movement through the frosted glass as a dark shape passed into the room. Cloth scraped against cloth, agitated little noises, and he waited patiently, silently.

"I could have really hurt you." Ichigo leaned against the wall, pressing his hand softly against the glass.

"But you didn't, and that's what matters," Urahara spoke against the tile, running his finger across Ichigo's palm through the barrier between them.

"That's not all that matters," Ichigo muttered quietly, stepping away from the shower.

Urahara sighed, unable to determine the younger man's mood and wondering if he should go out there. He was just reaching back to turn off the tap when the door slid open and Ichigo stepped into the confined space. Urahara slipped back into the spray, allowing him room to move in the shower that, though not exactly small, wasn't really meant for more than one person.

"Why'd you do it?" Ichigo asked quietly, staring at him with emotion-dark eyes.

"Well I can't have you destroying my store with senseless displays of power," Urahara replied flippantly. He grabbed hold of the younger man's hips and maneuvering him under the water, watching his hair darken under the spray. "I'm a business man, after all. I have to look out for my interests."

"So you jumped in front of my father, deflecting a blast that was headed for an empty lot, just on the off chance that it might spill over and damage your store?" The corner of his mouth almost twitched.

"Well why else would I do something as stupid as that?" The blond gave him a look that said it should be obvious.

"Fuck, Kisuke, this isn't funny," he groaned, running his hands over his face and back through his hair. "I completely lost control."

"I know," Urahara murmured, squeezing shampoo out of a small bottle and reaching forward to drag his fingers through the damp orange locks. "But it wasn't your fault and it all turned out alright."

"It was my fault," his voice was haunted as he leaned into the touch. "I'm supposed to be in control of myself, and I didn't even know where I was for a minute."

His eyes fell to the ragged line running across Urahara's pale flesh and he winced. He traced his fingertips over the inflamed skin beside it and the other man flinched under the not quite painful touch. He let his hand fall away.

"This is all my fault." His eyes slipped closed, his head drooping under the weight of his thoughts.

"No, that one was my fault for letting my guard down, and it's not even that bad." He pushed Ichigo back under the water, giving him a little shake, a wordless command for him to rinse his hair. "As for the rest of it, I just consider it bad timing. You were already being overrun by horrible memories, you were upset and emotionally drained, and then you were attacked by people who forced you to relive the things that were already tearing you apart. It was a ridiculous coincidence."

"I could have killed someone." Ichigo sounded miserable, his voice ragged.

"Yes, you could have," Urahara stated bluntly, pulling him back out from under the spray and forcing him to meet his gaze. "But it would have been their fault, not yours. They attacked us and you responded to that threat, maybe not in the best way, but it was still justified. They're all soldiers, they weren't blind to what they were doing and they should have known better. You can't blame yourself for other people's mistakes."

Ichigo's shoulders slumped and Urahara thought he saw tears swimming in his eyes, though if any fell they were lost in the water already streaming down his face.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he whispered brokenly, "The war is over, life was supposed to be easier now."

Urahara pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around the lean frame, ignoring the sting in his chest as their skin came together. He leaned down, pressing his lips against the top of Ichigo's shoulder.

"It gets better," he murmured against the damp skin. "I promise."

Ichigo dropped his face into the crook of Urahara's neck, relaxing slowly into the embrace. Fingers traced through his hair and up his back, trying to sooth the ache inside of him. He felt something stir within him, a tiny spark of peace in the chaos of the raging storm. The pain began to fade under the soft caress.

"Are people going to stop being such assholes about everything?" he asked finally.

"It's hard to tell, but since when do you give a fuck about what people think?" Urahara asked; being intentionally coarse because he knew Ichigo enjoyed it.

True to character, he felt lips curve against his neck. "You make a good point."

"You almost sound surprised. Shout I feel insulted?" He pulled back; brushing his nose against the younger man's cheek.

Ichigo leaned back, looking up at him, still upset but the life was creeping back into his eyes. He shifted a little in Urahara's grasp, sliding his arms up and around his neck. He winced, hissing through his teeth as the wound in his shoulder pulled painfully.

"I'm relieved to see that you've recovered your ability to feel," Urahara said dryly, one eyebrow twitching upward.

"No one likes a smartass." Ichigo scowled at him.

"So I keep telling you, but it doesn't seem to make a difference," the blond quipped, leaning down to rest their foreheads together. "It was a stupid thing to do."

Ichigo huffed, dropping his eyes as he winced again. "I'll admit that it wasn't my best idea," he muttered.

"Yes, well you do tend to be a bit overly dramatic when you're upset," Urahara acknowledged, detangling their arms to get a better look at the injury. Ichigo sucked in a breath as fingers prodded the area, but he didn't push them away. "It looks like it's already healing; did you spend some time in your mask?"

Ichigo nodded and Urahara let his hands drop. They'd discovered during the war that Ichigo healed much faster when he spent extended periods drawing on his Hollow powers. Something about his Hollow side having regeneration abilities that his Shinigami side did not.

"I noticed Karin's still here." Ichigo changed the subject, washing the last of the soap from his hair and stepped aside so that Urahara could resume his interrupted shower. "Is she okay?"

"She had a bit of a disagreement with your father after you left. I offered her and Kon a place to stay for the night," Urahara informed him, dragging shampoo through his own hair as he spoke.

"She shouldn't be involved in this." Ichigo leaned back against the tile, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Would you like to be the one to tell her that?" Urahara snorted softly, "Because honestly, she scares me a little."

Ichigo cracked a weak smile, "She's stubborn as hell."

"She reminds me of you," Urahara pointed out, rubbing soap between his hands and stepping forward to run them over Ichigo's chest.

The younger man cracked an eye open, looking up at him. "I can still wash myself, you know. I'm not quite that fucked up yet."

Urahara smirked, but made no move to stop what he was doing. Ichigo allowed himself to be turned, pressing his palms against the tile as the other man repeated the same process on his back. Ichigo sighed softly as fingers applied the perfect amount of pressure in just the right spots to release the tension still lingering in his muscles. After a few moments he felt Urahara lean into him, nuzzling against the back of his hair, slipping sideways so that his lips brushed his ear.

"Rinse," he commanded softly against his skin.

He started to pull away but Ichigo turned, catching hold of his wrist, his other hand tangling in the blond hair as he pulled their lips together. Urahara rested a forearm against the wall next to Ichigo head, leaning into the kiss. He grunted as Ichigo pressed against him, the soap stinging his cut. Ichigo licked at his lip apologetically, his mouth falling open to invite the other man inside.

Urahara wrapped an arm around him and pulled them both under the water, lips and tongues moving together in an erotic dance. Ichigo's arms slid back around his neck, groaning into the kiss. Urahara's smiled slightly as he pulled back, grabbing hold of Ichigo's hips to keep them from thrusting forward.

"You're supposed to be washing the soap off, not spreading it all over me," he chuckled, pushing Ichigo away so that the water could roll over him.

Ichigo was panting heavily, his eyes dark with lust, but he complied, spinning slowly to wash himself clean. He paused facing the wall, turning his head to stare at Urahara over his shoulder, his lips parting slightly. He leaned forward, pressing his palms against the tile, spreading his feet a little wider. Urahara groaned at the blatant invitation.

He slid forward, warm flesh sliding together as he pressed a kiss to the back of the younger man's neck, nipping gently at the skin. Ichigo shivered, a breathy moan tumbling from his lips as Urahara trailed slow kisses along his spine and over the plane of his shoulder blade. He continued downward, his hands stroking the soft skin at Ichigo's waist, holding him still. The blond sank to his knees, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of the spine, his hands slipping lower, teasing.

"Kisuke, what are you …FUCK!" Ichigo yelped, his nails scraping across the tile as Urahara's tongue ran over his tightly puckered opening.

"Good?" he smirked, lapping at him gently, feeling him shudder under the touch. He'd never done this for Ichigo, and judging by the reaction, it had been a grave oversight.

"Gods, Kisuke…ngghh…" Ichigo groaned helplessly, his breath hitching painfully when the tongue became more persistent, pressing deeper into him in slow, twisting circles.

Urahara's fingers dug into his skin, spreading him wider as his tongue thrust forward with skilled precision. Ichigo was trembling violently, a mixture of curses and moans accompanying every breath as he rocked back against that wicked tongue over and over again. The blond pulled away, lapping at him once again, one hand slipping forward to wrap around Ichigo's straining erection. A hoarse shout echoed off the walls as Ichigo arched forward, his knees threatening to give out.

Urahara continued to stroke him as he drew back, trailing open mouthed kisses over to his hip, sinking his teeth gently into the soft flesh. He wetted two fingers in his own mouth, slipping them deep into the waiting body, earning himself another sharp cry. He pushed back to his feet, latching onto the side of Ichigo's throat as he twisted the fingers in his body.

"S-shit," Ichigo whimpered, his head falling against the tiles. "I need you…now."

Urahara withdrew his hand, grabbing hold of his hips once again, spinning him around so that they were face to face. He stepped between Ichigo's legs, pressing him against the wall, dipping his head to take a soft earlobe between his teeth. Ichigo moaned, tilting his head sideways, thrusting forward to rub their erections together. Rewetted fingers found their way behind him, thrusting back into him, stroking that spot that sent sparks dancing behind his eyelids.

"Kisuke, please…" his voice was ragged, coming out in gasps.

Hands slid lower, pulling at the backs of his thighs, urging him higher. He wrapped an arm around Urahara's neck and reached up with the other to grab the top of the shower, supporting some of his weight. He started to wrap his legs around the other man's waist but Urahara stopped him, slipping an arm under one knee, opening him wider as he braced his palm on the wall next to Ichigo's chest. He pulled the other leg up against his side, holding it in place with a hand under his thigh.

Ichigo could feel the hard length of Urahara's arousal nudging his entrance, throbbing against him as he rocked his hips forward. There was a moment of resistance, a brief stinging pressure, and then head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle. Ichigo choked on a whimper, biting his lip against the burn of friction as he was stretched to capacity. They'd never done this without proper lube and the sensation was overwhelmingly intense. Urahara stilled, panting against his damp neck, his whole body shaking with tension.

"Gods, you're so tight like this," he shuddered breathlessly, "Are you okay?"

"M'fine, just keep moving." Ichigo hissed, throwing his head back against the tile.

Urahara turned, licking the water off of Ichigo's neck as he inched out of him before thrusting gently forward, biting down to muffle his groan. Ichigo gasped, arching his back, his mouth falling open. Urahara leaned into him, skin sliding across wet skin, pressing him against the tile as he pushed forward again, ghosting across his prostate. Ichigo whimpered, shifting against the body holding his captive, trying to meet the next thrust as he slid against the wall.

"Kisuke…" He strained against him, moaning brokenly.

Urahara groaned, biting down on the side of Ichigo's neck as a shiver ran through him. The sex-rough, begging tone always killed him. He slid his hand up the wall, dragging Ichigo's leg higher, tilting his hips forward as he rocked into him again. Ichigo's moan turned into a yelp, his nails digging into Urahara's shoulder.

"Shit, right there," he choked, dragging his hand into the wet blond hair, gritting his teeth as Urahara continued to drive into him.

The tile slid under Ichigo's back as the force of the trusts increased. The glass creaked ominously as he pulled himself up, driving down to impale himself harder, drawing a choked moan from Urahara. He tugged on the hair, crushing their lips together, plunging his tongue into the other mouth with frenzied need.

"Harder," he pleaded, sucking Urahara's lip into his mouth. "Fuck me harder."

"Gods, Ichigo…" The other man shuddered, slamming into him, shoving him up the wall with every thrust.

Ichigo cried out sharply, his head rolling sideways as his eyes squeezed shut. The burn still lingered, but Urahara was striking his prostate with enough force that the pleasure was almost painful, and he couldn't get enough. He gripped the edge of the shower, driving down hard to meet the thrusts, no longer caring if the glass broke under his weight.

"Fuck." Urahara growled, burying his face into Ichigo's neck, biting his lip hard against his threatening release.

Ichigo wasn't even trying to be quiet, panting and cursing, arching off the wall. His hand twisted in Urahara's hair as he trembled, the coiling pressure starting to peak. He heard Urahara moan next to his ear, the sound so raw and desperate that it was like a shock running straight to his cock. It was all too much, the pleasure, the friction, the need.

"Ngghh…Kisuke…FUCK!" Ichigo came violently, the force of his orgasm sending colors dancing across his vision, his release splattering across their still moving bodies.

Urahara bent down, lapping up a few drops that clung to his collarbone, riding out the waves of pleasure as the young body pulsed around him. He thrust wildly, leaning in to capture Ichigo's mouth again, muffling his own shout of release. He jerked, a shudder running through him, threatening to take him off his feet as he emptied himself into Ichigo's still twitching body. He collapsed forward against the other man, pinning him tight against the wall, breathing raggedly.

He disentangled himself slowly after a moment's rest, pulling out of the slick heat, lowering Ichigo back to the ground with shaking arms. Panting and exhausted, he slid to his knees, unable to support his own weight any longer. Ichigo went with him, straddling his lap and kissing him languidly.

"The water got cold," the younger man noted after awhile, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Yes, well, we've been in here for quite some time." Urahara kissed the end of his nose lazily.

They managed to break apart, struggling back to their feet to wash away the remnants of their encounter under the nearly frigid spray. They toweled off silently, to tired and sluggish for real conversation. Ichigo paused in his attempts to finger comb his hair when he felt arms wrap around him from behind. He leaned back into the embrace, his head falling forward as lips pressed into the back of his neck.

Urahara didn't speak, just continued to hold him gently, his eyes closed. Ichigo knew that he was worried, even though he was trying not to show it. He slid one hand up to cup the side of his face, the other coming to rest over the arms around his waist, trying to offer reassurance. Urahara must have understood the gesture, because he pressed another kiss against his skin and ushered him out of the small room.

(*)

"You know, I'm a bit envious of you," Urahara murmured, propping himself up on an elbow to stare down at the boy lying next to him.

"Why's that?" Ichigo asked, tucking an arm behind his head and staring up at him.

"I had a bit of an infatuation with Ukitake while I was at the academy, and even after. He was already a captain and was one of the most powerfully beautiful people I'd ever seen." Urahara had a wistful look in his eyes. "I was always too intimidated to talk to him, and even after I made captain I still viewed him as something of a paragon figure. Completely untouchable."

"He was always just a person to me; I didn't know enough about him to be intimidated." Ichigo's smile was both fondness and pain at the memory. "You're right about him being beautiful, though; he was hot as hell."

He cocked his head to one side, staring up into the pale eyes above him. "You know, it's weird, I always thought you were more into girls."

"I can see how you might think that," Urahara said dryly, leaning down to place a kiss against his chest. "Thought I must say, some of your actions were rather questionable if you truly believed it."

"I knew you wouldn't hate me for trying, so I took a chance. I figured the worst that could happen was you'd turn me down." Ichigo reached up, tucking a piece of blond hair back behind his ear. "It was worth the risk to have you touch me. I needed to be touched," he murmured, serious and reflective.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Urahara turned his head, pressing his lips into the palm still resting against his cheek.

Ichigo smirked faintly, dropping the hand and returning to his original line of thought. "I guess I just always saw you with Yoruichi and figured there was something going on there. Never saw you show any interest in guys."

"To be fair, I've been rather preoccupied with world threatening events since I met you. I haven't had much of an opportunity to show interest in anyoneprior to this" he sighed, running his fingers lightly over Ichigo's stomach. "Truthfully, I never saw the point of limiting myself to only half of the population. Too many wasted opportunities." His grin shone in the semi-darkness.

Ichigo snorted, "You really are a pervert."

"You're the one who keeps denying that, not me." He leaned down to kiss the younger man affectionately.

"I'm sorry about Yoruichi," Ichigo said softly after the blond had pulled away.

"Don't concern yourself with it," he replied, his eyes turning hard.

"My dad was way out of line, I'm sure he told her all sorts of crazy things," Ichigo pressed, wondering why he was bothering to defend her. "She probably thought she was doing the right thing."

"She should have come to me personally if she thought there was a problem." Urahara said tiredly, resting his forehead against Ichigo's chest. "It was wrong of her to support such tactics."

"I doubt my father mentioned anything about attacking you." Ichigo sounded irritated. "He probably thought of it as some sort of intervention, trying to save his poor, helpless son. He just can't control his anger anymore."

"I appreciate your attempt to defend Yoruichi, but there's no need to get worked up." Urahara trailed soft kisses up to his neck, rubbing his nose along his jaw. "It will be fine, she'll slink back eventually."

"You're going to forgive her?" Ichigo sounded surprised, and strangely, a little relieved.

"Of course," the other man assured him, "I've lost enough friends, there's no need to lose more over a misunderstanding."

"Only you could downplay a potentially fatal attack to a misunderstanding." Ichigo rolled his eyes lightly. "I suppose you'd forgive my dad, too."

"Absolutely," Urahara mumbled against his throat.

"You're too fucking nice sometimes." Ichigo shook his head in exasperation.

"I know." Urahara gave a longsuffering sign, rolling onto his back. "It's my one great flaw."

Ichigo snorted, watching him reach up to trace his injury like it was bothering him again. He frowned, turning towards the other man.

"Hanatarou tried to teach me a couple of healing spells once; do you want me to try one?" he asked, reaching out gently to touch the skin.

"As tempting as it sounds to be a guinea pig for untrained kidou, I think I'll have to pass." Urahara chuckled softly, "I'll be fine until morning."

"See if I offer to help you again," Ichigo huffed, settling his head against the pale skin. An arm slipped around him, carefully avoiding the injury on his upturned shoulder.

"Tessai will fix both of us in no time tomorrow," he assured him, stroking his arm lightly with soft fingertips.

"I was actually thinking of letting it heal naturally," Ichigo admitted, "Sort of a reminder to quit doing stupid shit when I'm angry."

"It would never work." Urahara pressed a kiss to his temple, smirking against his hair. "You're far too stubborn to learn from something as trivial as that."

It was another good point, Ichigo realized, though he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of voicing it aloud. He settled a bit more comfortably against the warm body, letting the steady stroke of fingers over his skin pull his already exhausted mind towards sleep. There were a lot of things that needed to be dealt with, but he just didn't have the energy to think about them at the moment. He hoped that everything would be clearer in the morning.
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Shades of Grey