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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Slow Decay
Ichigo's sleep habits had never been the same since he'd returned from the war. The little things that he used to take for granted, whether it be a sound, a feeling, or just the stray thread of a half-forgotten dream were now enough to bring him panting back to awareness, straining in the dark. It was usually better with Urahara, because even if the panic came there was an arm to tighten around him, or lips to brush over his skin, something to remind him where he was. Unfortunately, times of stress seemed to make these occurrences more common, which was why he currently found himself glaring murderously at the door for no apparent reason while a hand traced sleepy patterns over his chest.
"What's wrong?" Urahara murmured against the back of his hair, his voice sluggish.
"Just a noise," Ichigo grumbled irritably, feeling the tension ebb from his straining muscles.
"Hardly surprising considering the number of people I'm housing," Urahara reminded him, sounding slightly more awake as he pressed a lazy kiss against the back of his neck. "Go back to sleep."
Ichigo shifted restlessly, his injured shoulder throbbing painfully, protesting his apparent decision to sleep on it. "What time is it?"
The former captain made a little noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "It feels early."
Ichigo turned slowly in Urahara's arms, rolling to face him, relieving the pressure on his aching shoulder. "That's because you're lazy." He smirked; nudging the other man's legs apart so that he could slip one of his own between them.
"I'm not lazy, I'm tired," the blond muttered, finally cracking an eye open to look at him. "I've been busy."
Ichigo's smirk fell away as the weight of the past week settle over him. "How's your chest?"
"Uncomfortable." Urahara leaned forward to brush his nose over Ichigo's. "But don't worry about it."
He stared into the green-grey eyes still clouded with the remnants of sleep, watching as pale lashes swept low in a gesture that might have been coy if he didn't look so tired. This was how he liked to remember him, relaxed and smirking faintly, so different from the sad look of fatigue that he wore so often now. It was almost enough to dispel the image of his chin tilting away, his eyes begging to be remembered as Zangetsu pressed against his throat. Ichigo jerked sharply, tearing from the memory, feeling the pull of his lingering anger.
"You should have let me kill him," he muttered darkly, dropping his gaze to hide the emotions simmering beneath the surface.
"That's a horrible thing to say," Urahara chided with an exaggerated sigh, brushing his nose over the rise of a cheekbone. "Think of the mess it would have made."
"Why are you still defending him?" Ichigo grumbled, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly.
"I'm just being practical," Urahara assured him, leaning in to catch his mouth.
Ichigo sighed against his lips, recognizing that the older man was trying to distract him from the issue. He wasn't oblivious to Urahara's mixed feeling of loyalty when it came to him and Isshin, but there was nothing he could do about it. It pissed him off sometimes, but he didn't take it personally; Urahara was just complicated like that and he sure as hell wasn't in a position to judge anyone else's problems. Still, if Isshin refused to back down, there was going to be a reckoning and Ichigo wasn't blind to what that might require of him. He felt the familiar detachment settling over him, distancing him from the thoughts running through his head.
"I could do it if that's what it came down to." His voice was hard, though his body remained relaxed in the embrace.
"That doesn't mean that you should," Urahara pointed out gently, "Try to remember there's a difference."
"So you think that I should just let him hurt you? Let him hurt Ururu?" Ichigo demanded, his reiatsu churning with the memories of bloody tears on china doll skin.
"Of course not." The blond leaned forward, rubbing his jaw over wild orange hair. "It was incredibly stupid of him to come here like that."
"But you still feel bad for him," he pressed, dark and bitter.
"It's a difficult situation," Urahara hedged gently, trailing his fingers over Ichigo's back, nuzzling his face in an almost apologetic gesture.
Ichigo huffed, the noise harsher than he really intended, biting his tongue against any further reply. He didn't want to fight anymore, not with Urahara, not with anyone. He was too tired to fight. He was too tired for any of it.
"You're angry," Urahara murmured, breaking the silence as he shifted him a little closer.
"It's fucked up." Ichigo slumped against him, a heavy sadness creeping into his voice. "The whole thing's just fucked."
Urahara made a little sound of agreement, a wry smile flickering over his lips as his eyes fell closed. "An astute observation, and as eloquently phrased as always."
Ichigo couldn't help the smirk that twisted the corner of his mouth. Urahara always managed to reach him, no matter how far he buried himself in the darkness, no matter how hard he tried to hold on. There was just something about the way the voice rolled over his frayed nerves, the fingers soothing his aching thoughts, that made him feel like there might still be something left in his otherwise shitty world.
"It's too damn hard to be mad at you," he complained halfheartedly, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw.
"I know," Urahara sympathized with a dramatic sigh, turning his head to nip at the caress. "My charm can be such a trial at times."
He caught one of Ichigo's fingers between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue before drawing it further into his mouth. He sucked on it gently, nibbling and licking, molesting it thoroughly before relinquishing his hold. Lashes drifted over pale eyes again, but the sleep had faded from his expression and the effect vastly different. Ichigo's pulse jumped.
It was unusual for Urahara to initiate anything overtly sexual between them, usually opting for gentle caresses and soft displays of affection until Ichigo took it to the next level. It wasn't that he didn't have the urge, far from it in fact, but his deeper interests lay in his concern for Ichigo. He didn't have any miracle cure that could make things right, but he could offer comfort for the agony that he understood so well, he could listen to the half choked memories as they tumbled from those perfect lips, and he could touch him like he so desperately needed when it all became too much to bear. This was all he had to give, and if that meant reigning in some of his own desires then he would, because it wasn't about him.
On occasion, however, there was something in the younger man's eyes, something that pulled deep inside him, that tore at his resolve. It was a sense of sadness, a horrible loneliness that made him want to reach out and touch him in any way he could to remind him that there was still hope, no matter how faint it seemed. His eyes fell to the lips, still slightly parted, and he leaned forward, breathing in Ichigo's soft gasp as he claimed them.
There was nothing forceful about the way he pressed his tongue into the waiting mouth, just a soft, slow caress as he ran his hand up the smooth flesh of his back. Ichigo responded easily, tilting his head, stroking against his tongue with practiced finesse. A hand traced over his face, brushing the hair away from his cheek, gliding against the curve of his ear. Ichigo pressed forward, invading his mouth, the hand sliding deeper into his hair as he drank in his flavor.
They pulled apart, panting softly, staring at each other in silence. A slow smile curled across Ichigo lips and Urahara felt the ache in his chest uncoil, sighing as the life returned to the eyes pinning him from beneath dark lashes. Ichigo kissed him again, slow and languid.
"You know," He pulled back, trialing his tongue over Urahara's lower lip. "It's too bad you're hurt, because I was just thinking how amazing you look when I fuck you."
He was close enough to see the pupils dilate in the darkening eyes as Urahara's breath hitched.
"It's hardly even a scratch," he murmured, a slight tremor running through him.
"Mm-hmm." Ichigo was kissing him again, needier and more demanding. "I think you just want me to fuck you?" he panted against his lips.
"Good to see you're s-still…s-somewhat observant." Urahara let out a shuddering breath as Ichigo ground his thigh between his legs, licking a hot trail down his neck.
A hand found its way into tousled orange hair, pulling him back into the kiss, plunging deep into his mouth. Ichigo responded, a soft noise rising in the back of his throat, grinding harder against him with silky promise. His hand trailed lower, catching the top of light linen pants, pushing them down over a sharp hipbone.
A crash from the other room snapped his head around, his body coiling tight.
"What the fuck was that?" he panted, tension rolling off him in heavy waves.
"Sounds like someone broke something," Urahara sighed, not looking particularly worried, running a hand lightly down his cheek.
Ichigo continued to stare at the door, listening intently, poised to strike.
Urahara shifted onto his back, brushing his hair out of his face and breathing heavily. "I should probably go and make sure everything's alright."
"I'll go." Ichigo was already on his feet and reaching for Zangetsu.
"Honestly, Ichigo, it's not an invasion." Urahara rolled gracefully out of bed, reaching for a robe. "At least put something on, you're currently leaving little to the imagination."
Ichigo looked down at the front of his shorts and had to admit the other man was right. There was no need to subject his sister to that kind of trauma over what was probably no worse than a broken jar. He kicked them off and stepped into his hakama, retying them quickly.
"Better?" He demanded as the other man approached, spinning Benihime idly in one hand.
Urahara came to a halt, stroking his fingers over the exposed flesh along one of his hips. "Not really," he admitted with a wicked smirk.
"Fine," Ichigo grumbled, looking for the rest of his clothes, "I'll be out in a minute."
Urahara withdrew his hand reluctantly and headed for the door, casting one last, heated look over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall. After yesterday's incident he'd taken more precautions with security, so he wasn't particularly worried that anything was seriously wrong. On the other hand, he always maintained that it was better to be safe than sorry, and with the amount of odd concoctions he kept around the place it was best to check on what had broken.
He found the source of the disturbance in the dining area, where Karin, Ururu, and Kon had apparently converged. The latter was currently crouched on the floor, gingerly transferring pieces of broken glass into the trash while Ururu soaked up a puddle with a rag.
"Glad to see it wasn't an invasion after all." Urahara smiled pleasantly when all eyes snapped to him. He noted, with a perplexed sort of amusement, that Kon had achieved a level of blush that he hadn't seen on Ichigo's face in years.
"See, I told you they were fine." Karin rolled her eyes, smirking at Kon.
"Did something happen to warranted concern?" Urahara looked between the two with mild curiosity.
"No," Karin snorted, but before she could elaborate Ichigo materialized in the doorway, radiating tension and gripping Zangetsu.
"What happened?" he demanded, looking as if he expected trouble in every shadow.
Urahara looped an arm around his waist, pulling him against his chest and resting his chin on his shoulder. "It seems Kon broke a cup and Karin was about to recount the details," he spoke next to his ear.
"It's nothing, it just slipped," Kon muttered uncomfortably, returning the trash to the corner and dropping back onto his cushion.
"Liar," Karin snickered, ignoring his mutinous glare as she turned towards Urahara and her brother. "He felt Ichi-nii get upset a couple of times and thought that maybe we should check on you. I said that we should just leave you alone, because you'd probably be fucking by the time we got there."
Urahara chuckled against the side of Ichigo's head as the younger man stiffened and Kon made a distressed, whining noise.
"What?" Karin inquired innocently, "I'm still impressionable, I don't need to see that shit."
Kon dropped his head into his hands and Urahara bit his lip against another laugh. "And these observations lead to the dropped cup?" he inquired.
"No." Karin completely ignored Kon and Ichigo, smirking at the blond over her brother's shoulder. "He was fine until I mentioned that we'd know soon enough, 'cause it's not like we wouldn't be able to hear you."
Urahara choked on his own amusement as he saw the tips of Ichigo's ears go pink. Kon had long since given in to his horror and was sitting with his forehead against the table, one hand gripping the back of his neck. Even Ururu, who was accustomed to their relationship by now, was staring at the floor as if it held the answers to all of life's questions when she mumbled something about inventory and fled.
"I take it some of our activities were less than subtle?" Urahara guessed, looking just slightly apologetic.
Kon made another strange noise against the table, his hand clenching in his hair. Karin snorted in morbid amusement, looking between him and the still frozen Ichigo before nodding to the blond.
"That was truly bad manners." Urahara gave her a solemn look, his lip twitching faintly. "I will attempt to be a better host in the future."
"It's fine." Karin played along with the mood, shrugging nonchalantly as if they were talking about something as mundane as the weather. "Ichi-nii's always been loud."
"Karin!" Ichigo spluttered, the tip of Zangetsu impacting the floor with a dull thud. "Don't say shit like that."
"Well it's true," she insisted, hauling out her rarely used innocent look.
Ichigo seemed at a momentary loss for words, caught between his sisters wide eyed stare and Urahara's soft chuckle against his hair. He scowled; wishing embarrassment was one of those emotions he could easily suppress.
"You were unusually vocal last night, even for you," the blond whispered, pulling back to nip at one of his blush stained ears. Ichigo's scowl deepened.
Urahara released him, heading for the kitchen, trying to keep the smirk from his face. It was always interesting to watch Ichigo blush, because it happened so rarely anymore. It was a nice reminder that there was still some of his old self left in there, that the war hadn't thoroughly hardened him.
When he returned to the table with some extra cups, he found Ichigo seated next to Kon, apparently recognizing that, having been the most horrified person in the room, he was least likely to continue the conversation. He set two cups between them and moved to take his seat, though not before tracing a finger behind each of their ears and watching them share an almost identical shiver. Karin choked into her cup as Kon cursed colorfully, the blush returning to his cheeks.
"Stop doing that," the mod soul demanded, though there was a slight tremor to his voice that made one of Urahara's pale brows twitch in interest.
"Kisuke, have you been molesting Kon?" Ichigo sounded faintly amused, apparently having recovered from his shock.
"Only very slightly," Urahara assured him. "Certainly nothing to cause permanent trauma."
Ichigo smirked, looking across at Karin who was still snickering and using a napkin to wipe up a few drops of tea. "I suppose it was with the best of intentions."
"Naturally," Urahara said loftily, passing Karin a fresh napkin.
Ichigo rolled his eyes and poured himself some tea, wondering how they could possibly be joking after the fiasco of the previous day.
He was still shaking his head at the depth of their emotional issues when a movement in the hall grabbed his attention. He frowned, unable to make out its source in the darkness. It moved again, seeming to draw closer, dipping lower like a leaf caught in a draft. He was about to alert the others when it finally caught the light spilling through the doorway, slipping lazily forward to join them in the room.
Ichigo stared at the dark, fluttering creature, realizing, to his surprise, that it was a Hell Butterfly. He hadn't seen one in over a year and for one to show up here of all places was completely unfathomable. What shocked him more, however, was the fact that Karin was giving it an absolutely murderous look as it dropped gently onto her outstretched finger.
"I already said no," she stated flatly, even before it had settled its wings.
This declaration earned her looks of varying confusion from everyone but Kon, who just shook his head and returned to his tea. She wasn't paying attention, caught up by the words whispered too softly for the others to make out.
"Well too bad, it's not my house." She frowned at the little creature as though it could somehow convey her outrage to its master.
The whispering started again, but Urahara had already caught something, motioning Ichigo to stay as he slipped from the room. Ichigo watched dumbfounded as Karin continued to glare, arguing with the butterfly as though this were something she did all the time.
"Why the hell bother to send the first one if you're just going to do whatever the fuck you want?" she demanded, her scowl only getting darker as a reply was forthcoming.
"He already left, and I can talk however I like," she griped, sounding sullen and just a little petulant. Ichigo recognized the tone; whoever she was arguing with was starting to wear her down.
He wanted to question her, but couldn't bring himself to interrupt as she shook her head subtly against whatever she was hearing. "That's shitty logic," she insisted with a sigh. "You always do whatever you want."
"Just because you don't agree doesn't mean it's faulty logic." Urahara had returned, followed by a rather incensed figure still talking into a headset looped over his ear.
"Fuck, Toushirou, what part of no don't you understand?" Karin had transitioned seamlessly, the butterfly drifting away as she stalked towards the white haired captain.
He just blinked at her in exasperation, catching the finger that was jabbing at his chest.
"When did you get so vulgar?" he muttered with a sigh.
She blinked back at him, a slow smirk breaking onto her features.
"When Ichi-nii started fucking Kisuke," she responded easily, pulling her finger form his grasp. "It's sort of a deal we have."
He gave her an incredulous look before scanning the other occupants of the room, apparently looking for some thread of sanity, though none was immediately forthcoming.
"It's been awhile, Toushirou." Ichigo nodded to him, still on edge from the rather unusual appearance.
"Kurosaki." Hitsugaya returned the nod, having long since given up on formalities.
"What can we do for you, Hitsugaya-kun?" Urahara was leaning against the wall in an easy manner, though his eyes remained sharp.
"He wants to talk to Ichi-nii," Karin supplied, rounding on the young captain once again. "And I already said no."
"You can't just say no." He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking for all the world like he didn't know what to make of the conversation.
"Why are you sending Hell butterflies to my sister if it's me you want to talk to?" Ichigo interjected, drumming his fingers lightly against the table.
"I was being courteous; I simply mentioned to her that I intended to visit." Hitsugaya would have sounded indifferent to anyone who didn't know him better.
"That doesn't answer the question of why you were talking to her in the first place," Ichigo pointed out, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Hitsugaya made no outward show of discomfort, but there was a slight pull to his mouth that indicated he wasn't happy with the direction of the conversation. Karin looked between the two of them and sighed dramatically.
"He's just bothering you 'cause I told him I kissed you," Karin informed Hitsugaya, ignoring his look of horrified disbelief as she turned back to her brother. "Toushirou heard about your fight, and that I was there. He sent a Butterfly to make sure everything was okay."
"Uh-huh." Ichigo still wasn't satisfied, but he wasn't in the mood to push it so he just moved on. "So why are you here?"
"Uh." Hitsugaya was still staring at Karin in disbelief. He blinked, turning slowly toward Ichigo, seeming to remember his original intent. "I was sent to investigate the circumstances behind your recent encounters."
"You mean fighting with my dad?" Ichigo gave him a hard look. "What the hell does Soul Society care about that? How do they even know?"
"Do you really think you can just throw around that kind of power and not have anyone notice?" Hitsugaya's eyebrow twitched upward subtly. "As for the interest Seireitei is taking in it, that's somewhat complicated."
"By complicated do you mean dangerously paranoid?" Urahara murmured shrewdly, waving the younger man towards the table.
Hitsugaya stared at him for a moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them before he relented, talking the offered seat as Urahara dropped down next to Ichigo.
"They're concerned about the potential problem," he clarified, still looking at Urahara.
"What potential problem?" Ichigo looked between them, not having caught whatever they both seemed to be thinking.
"The problem that would arise should you lose control on a more permanent level." Urahara held his gaze steadily.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ichigo shifted to face Hitsugaya.
"They're worried that you might be becoming unstable," the young captain confirmed with an unreadable look. "They want you evaluated as a possible threat."
"What?" Ichigo exclaimed, looking back to Urahara.
"That's crazy," Karin shouted, her eyes flashing, "Why would you think something like that?"
"Do you think it was my idea?" Hitsugaya shot her a hard look.
"An interesting point," Urahara cut in, still watching Ichigo. "Who actually did raise the issue?"
Hitsugaya tore his gaze back around, a look of distaste simmering just beneath the surface. "Soifon met with the Commander General last night. She reported that, in her opinion, you are losing your grip on reality and are engaging in activities which are dangerous to not only the people around you, but possibly to Soul Society as well."
"That fucking bitch," Karin gritted out viciously, her hair stirring slightly under the rise of untrained reiatsu.
"Losing my grip on reality?" Ichigo's anger sparked. "What the fuck is everyone's problem lately?"
Urahara slid a hand over his, squeezing gently before turning to the captain
"Did she happen to give a full account of the event?" His voice was soft, but with an edge that could have cut steel.
"In a way, but given what I've heard from Karin, I would say that her report lacked adequate detail." Hitsugaya brushed his hair back in agitation. "She simply stated that she accompanied a group to confront Kurosaki regarding certain negative behaviors, and that when the situation deteriorated he lost control of himself, going so far as to actually attack the person he had been trying to protect."
"They fucking attacked us." The table jumped as Ichigo's palms slammed down, his reiatsu flaring wildly. "They came in here and used kidou on me! My fucking dad tried to kill Kisuke and smashed Ururu into a wall! Was I just supposed to fucking stand there?"
"I understand that." Hitsugaya looked angry, though it wasn't directed at Ichigo. "But she didn't mention those details and I doubt it would have made a difference either way."
"How could it not make a difference?" Ichigo started to rise but an arm snaked around his waist, hauling him closer to a familiar body.
"They're afraid," Urahara murmured against his hair. "After what happened with Aizen they're going to be suspicious of anyone with your kind of power."
"But that's bullshit," Karin exploded. "Ichi-nii would never do something like that."
"Of course he wouldn't." Urahara turned his head slightly to regard her. "But that isn't going to make them less paranoid."
"It's still bullshit," Karin grumbled.
"It's just a precaution." Hitsugaya gave them a tired look. "They just wanted me to come and check things out, make a report."
"And what happens if they decide I'm a threat?" Ichigo bit out, his tone laced with resentment.
"I doubt they've thought that far ahead." Urahara traced slow patterns up his back, shooting Hitsugaya a hard look that Ichigo missed. "They're just being overly cautious."
Something passed briefly through the young captain's eyes and Urahara's jaw twitched as he gave a very subtle shake of his head. There was no need to worry anyone needlessly over something he would never allow to occur.
"This is all dads' fault," Karin said bitterly, drawing everyone's attention. "He's the one who got that bitch involved in the first place."
"I'm sure he didn't mean for it to happen," Urahara sighed, "But it was certainly an unfortunate decision."
"He was already fucking everything up, and now he's putting Ichi-nii in even more danger." Her fury was rising and Ichigo reached across the table to take her hand.
"Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself," he assured her, his eyes cold and determined.
She met his gaze, dark fire rippling beneath the surface of her features before a hard barrier clicked into place.
"I'm not going back there," she declared, her voice low and angry.
"What about Yuzu?" It was the first time Kon had spoken throughout the entire ordeal.
Karin's jaw clenched. She had sworn to protect Yuzu, but she refused to be under the same roof with her father, not after what he'd done.
"I wonder how she'd feel about visiting some old friends," Kon mused, his eyes flickering past Ichigo to Urahara. "She still remembers Jinta and Ururu, unless I'm mistaken."
"That seems like a rather dangerous idea," Urahara's replied evenly. "Isshin is already unstable."
"I won't leave her there." Karin's eyes snapped to Urahara. "Not with him."
"It's not safe," Ichigo muttered, thoughts of Ururu's crumpled body fresh in his mind.
"He would never harm your sisters," Urahara murmured softly, trying to forestall what he knew was coming.
"You can't know that, not with the way he's been lately." He was looking at him with those haunted eyes. "I have to protect her, Kisuke."
"Ichigo…" Pale brows drew together as he stroked a thumb over the younger man's cheekbone.
He sighed.
"At least take the time to consider it," he pleaded softly. "There are some decisions that there is no going back from, and I fear this is one of them."
"He tried to kill you." Ichigo's tone was hard. "I don't know what he's capable of anymore."
Urahara felt a sad resignation setting deep inside of him. "At least consider it before you do anything rash?"
Ichigo reluctantly agreed, though it was fairly clear that his mind was set. Urahara brushed his thumb once more down the slope of his cheek before turning back to the others.
"Well this has certainly been an eventful morning." He couldn't quite manage the proper tone. "I'm going to see if Tessai is up to a little healing for Ichigo and I, and then I have a few errands to run."
He rose fluidly, pushing his hair back and straightening his robe. He looked around the table at all of them, his eyes lingering on Ichigo for a moment longer before making his way into the hall.
(*)
"Thank you so much for seeing him." The petite woman tucked the blanket a little tighter around her baby before glancing up at Isshin. "I wouldn't have called if didn't think it was important."
"It's not a problem," Isshin assured her, walking them to the clinic entrance. "I'm always available for emergencies."
The woman smiled up at him. "I wish it had been a more opportune time, I feel like I've disrupted your weekend."
Isshin smiled back, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. "You didn't interrupt anything; I was just clearing up old paperwork. If anything, you helped to relieve the monotony."
She laughed easily and continued chatter until they reached the door. She thanked him once more with another cheerful smile before stepping out into the morning sun. He watched the door close behind her, his smile breaking away like brittle glass as he ran a hand through his hair, the weariness throbbing in his bones.
He turned, letting his feet carry him back towards his office, staring blankly at the passing walls as he wallowed in his own internal chaos. He nudged the door closed behind him, not caring if it latched as he made his way to his desk, pressing his palms flat against the wood. He remained standing, looking down at his hands, overwhelmed with the sudden urge to break everything within reach until the real world resembled the madness in his head. His fingers twitched against the wood.
"You've looked better, Isshin." A voice spoke form the corner and he spun to find Urahara lounging in a chair, looking deceptively casual but for the way he was spinning Benihime against the floor.
"What are you doing here?" Isshin spat, his nails digging into his palms.
"I was in the area," Urahara replied lightly, regarding him with cool interest. "I thought I might check up on you, seeing as our last conversation ended rather abruptly."
"I've had enough of your bullshit," Isshin gritted his teeth, "What do you want?"
He sighed, tugging his hat lower over his eyes. "I want you to stop antagonizing your son before something regrettable happens."
"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?" Isshin snapped, his knuckles going white. "You think I'm trying to antagonize him?"
"No," he replied softly, his eyes unreadable. "I understand what you're trying to do; I'm simply pointing out what you're actually accomplishing."
"Well, I'm not going to just sit back and watch you drag him down, if that's what you're hoping for." Isshin's voice was hard, his cheeks flushed with anger. "He's my son, Kisuke, not some fucking game."
"I'm aware of that, Isshin, but this isn't the way to handle things." The steady tone taking on an edge.
"You think I'm going to take advice from you?" Isshin bit out, his voice rising, "I don't need you telling me how to take care of my son."
"He would have killed you yesterday." Urahara's voice was flat, his eyes biting and hard. "I know you can't see it, but you're making things worse."
"You're the one who's got him all twisted in knots," Isshin snarled, the memory of the black eyes still burned in his mind. "I'm looking out for him when no one else will."
"No, you're pushing him towards an edge that he might not come back from," Urahara countered, still quiet but razor sharp. "You need to consider a different approach."
"Stop trying to sound like you give a fuck, you've never been interested in anyone but yourself." Isshin face was red, his reiatsu stifling in the small room.
"Are you implying that I don't care about Ichigo?" His voice was dangerous, hanging heavy between them.
"I'm implying that you're using my son as a fuck-toy while he's losing his mind." Isshin took a step forward, his anger pulsing like a physical thing.
"I would be careful about questioning his sanity." His eyes were ice, not even acknowledging the threat. "Someone could get the wrong impression."
"The wrong impression?" Isshin's lip pulled back in a snarl. "You've got his mind so warped that he would actually kill his own father for you!"
"You attacked a child in front of him," Urahara snapped, the first fracture in his calm facade. "You had people hold him down while he watched her bleed. Can you even imagine what that did to him? Do you have any idea what he's seen?"
"That was an accident," Isshin shouted, his rage and guilt a sickening lump in his gut. "She would never have been in the way if it wasn't for you."
"It doesn't matter," Urahara shook off the excuse, a sharp breath hissing through his nose. "You can't fight him into submission, he's going to respond with violence because it's all he knows how to do."
"He's just a fucking kid, Kisuke. He could still have a chance if you'd just leave him alone." Isshin's reiatsu was screaming and Urahara twitched Benihime in reminder.
"A chance for what?" he demanded, the muscle jumping in his jaw. "He's never going to be normal, not in the way you want him to be, and he's never going to be a kid again, either. He's torn between so many worlds that he'll never fit into one of them completely, not in the way he used to. He's a soldier; a hero who saved countless lives and took countless more, nothing will ever take away the memory of what he's endured. You may be right about him being very young, but he has faced decisions that you can't even imagine, done things that the rest of us can't even understand. He's one of the most powerful creatures that Soul Society has ever seen, and all he ever wanted from that power was to protect the people he cared about. He could have had anything, but all he wanted was to keep people safe, which was the only thing he couldn't do and so now he wears his guilt like a badge to remind himself how he failed."
Isshin mouth started to open, angry and hateful, but Urahara overrode him.
"People have been looking to him as savior since he was fifteen years old, and he played the part willingly because there was no one else that could. Older, harder men would have broken long ago under the weight of what he's had to carry, but he survived because he had to, because he wouldn't let himself fail. There's no going back after that, there's no button he can press to make his life like it was, to make everything soft again. He's still figuring out who he is now, and all you're doing is reminding him of the things that are holding him down."
He trailed off, his heart pounding painfully as his eyes pleaded with the larger man to understand, though he could tell by the hard look that it wasn't getting through.
"So you saw this boy with all of these horrible problems, with all of this pain and guilt that was tearing him apart, and you decided to offer him a place on your cock while he was trying to find himself." Isshin sneered, twisted and ugly, and Urahara had to bite back the urge to strike him for his stupidity.
"I offered him everything I had to give," he bit out, the old fatigue settling over him.
"Only you could make fucking an emotionally scarred teenager sound like a noble act." Isshin voice was nasty and dark.
"I'm not here to explain myself," Urahara snapped, realizing it was a lost cause.
"Is he a good fuck, Kisuke?" Isshin wasn't listening anymore, lost in seething hatred. "Does it make you feel better about yourself when he looks at you with those lost, broken eyes? Does it make you feel like you're in control when he's begging you for help and you tell him you can fuck away his pain?" His face twisted, horrible and unrecognizable. "Is it worth tearing away that last part of his soul just so you can hear him scream for you?"
Urahara felt white hot anger searing along his bones and realized he was on his feet.
"Fuck you," he growled, his knuckles white on Benihime's, the hilt cutting into his palm until he felt a trickle of blood roll down.
"What's the matter, Kisuke, where's that famous calm?" Isshin taunted, moving towards him with burning eyes. "Can't take being called on your own bullshit?"
Urahara forced his teeth together, feeling them grind as his body shook. The blood pounding in his ears, wanted nothing more than to lash out, to crush him until that hateful sneer was lost in the twisted ruin of his face. He shook his head, trying to remember why he was here.
"Finally run out of words?" Isshin was closer now, dark and furious.
Urahara clamped down on his emotions, forcing them into that battered little cage he'd formed during the war. Ichigo was in danger and that had to come first, there would be time for the rest of the world later.
He drew a shaky breath, struggling to unclench his jaw. "I know what kind of guilt you're carrying, Isshin, and I'm not going to play your games with you."
"Game?" Isshin was still stalking forward, his voice thundering against the walls. "This is my son's life we're talking about."
"No, this is about you." Urahara snapped at him, the rage still tugging at its chains. "You can't help anyone while you're hiding from your own guilt and fear. All you're doing is making your problems into his, and he doesn't need any more."
"You don't know anything about what I'm feeling, or what I'm trying to do," Isshin screamed.
"I know that if you keep following this path, you're going to die alone and despised." Urahara's voice was sharp as glass.
Isshin's fist flew; spit spraying from his mouth as his growl tore free. Urahara stood his ground, feeling the crunch of bone against bone, letting his head snap under the impact to keep his jaw from breaking. He stumbled slightly, bracing his hand against the wall, raising Benihime to ward off another blow.
"Stay away from my family, you son of a bitch." Isshin looked wild, fear and insanity staining his features.
"I'm not taking your family, Isshin." Urahara bit out coldly, reached up to press his fingers to the already forming bruise. "I'm just catching the pieces when you drive them away."
Isshin looked ready to hit him again, but his eyes flickered to Benihime , realizing the next one wouldn't be free.
"I'm not interested in fighting you." Urahara's anger was fading, choking on the deep sense of futility and hurt. "Enough lives have been lost and families torn apart, I don't need any more blood on my hands."
"Then why did you come here?" Isshin demanded, his tone lashing out like his hands could not.
"You've drawn Soul Society's attention to Ichigo," he informed him, forcing him back as he pushed away from the wall. "All the good intentions in the world aren't going to save him if they decide he's a threat. If you continue to push him you'll drive him to a place where no one can reach him and they'll be forced to take action. You need to think about that while there's still an opportunity to do something about it."
He turned, pulling the door open, ignoring the thunderstruck look rooting Isshin in place.
"So what am I supposed to do?" Isshin shouted, finally finding his voice amidst the rising fear.
"I don't know." Urahara paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder with sad, tired eyes. "If I had the answers I would have made it right a long time ago."
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Urahara thought that he might have seen the first signs of real thought, though it could just as easily have been wishful thinking.
"I have no desire to see you in pain, Isshin, regardless of how you may feel towards me." He sighed sadly, stepping into the hall. "Please think about what I've said."
(*)
Isshin sat at the table, unmoving as he stared into the surface he'd memorized over the past two hours. He'd retreated to the familiar comfort of the kitchen, no longer able to concentrate on work as Urahara's words continued to haunt him. He hadn't seen Yuzu since that morning; she'd been unusually subdued in her sister's absence, despite a reassuring phone call explaining the need to remain at a friend's house. He didn't mind, he was glad for the silence as he thought about his carefully constructed world that was falling around his feet.
He could still see Ichigo looking at him with those hate filled eyes, flinging his blood to splatter hot against his face. There had been no sympathy there, no softness, just the brutal, glittering intent of a man who had cut down a hundred enemies without hesitation and now found himself facing another. It was no longer Ichigo, not in the way he remembered him, it was someone he didn't even know.
He remembered Karin standing between them; delicate hands wrapped around that deadly blade as she held him back, screaming with flashing eyes. There had been no uncertainty in her, not even a backwards glance as she raised a sword to her father in defense of the brother she loved more than life. Isshin realized, with a slipping sort of coldness, that she'd never even viewed it as a decision, where Ichigo went she would go. She would make her stand wherever he drew his blade, without question, without regret.
The sound of a door closing drew his attention and he looked up, surprised at the odd assortment of people filing into the room. He'd expected Karin, because Yuzu had told him of her intended return, and he had known Ichigo would accompany her because that was the nature of their bond. The fact that Kon was there, still wearing Ichigo's body wasn't too much of a stretch, because Ichigo would no doubt want Zangetsu close at hand. What he hadn't been expecting, though, was for Karin to be flanked by Jinta, eyes hooded and cold, and another white haired boy in dark jeans, who looked disturbingly familiar.
Isshin rose slowly and Ichigo tensed, ready for any sign of hostility. He made his way around the table, stopping a good distance away from the solemn group. He looked between them, feeling an odd stirring of trepidation and uncertainty.
"We need to talk about yesterday," he said slowly, turning his attention to Ichigo.
"I'm not interested," Ichigo bit out, giving him a look cold enough to freeze his blood. "We're just here to get a few things, so stay out of the way."
"What do you mean?" Isshin's eyes flickered between them, "Where are you going?"
Ichigo let out a bark of laughter, a hard, cutting sound. "Do you really think I'm just going to march home like a good little boy after all that?"
Where the usual anger would of risen Isshin felt only the cold stirring of fear. "I think I need to explain-"
"He said we're not interested, so just shut the fuck up," Karin cut him off, her voice vicious and angry. "We're just here for Yuzu."
"You can't do that." Isshin paled, turning back to Ichigo. "You can't just take your sisters."
"I'm looking out for them, just like you wanted," Ichigo sneered. "There's no way I'm staying here and I'm sure as fuck not leaving them alone with you."
Isshin's heart constricted. "You think I would hurt them?" His voice was shaking.
"I don't know anymore." Ichigo's tone was coldly indifferent. "And I'm sure as hell not going to wait around to find out."
"That's crazy." Isshin felt a sickening lurch. "I won't let you do this."
"It's not up to you," Karin snarled, "This is all your fault. You couldn't make me stay here if you tried."
Ichigo put a hand on her shoulder, the other reaching up to curl around Zangetsu's hilt, "Just fuck off already."
"You can't do this to them." Isshin felt his panic stir the tendrils of his earlier anger. "You can't take care of two thirteen year olds; you don't have any way to support them."
"Do I look like I'm planning to live on the fucking street?" Ichigo voice was dripping with distain. "I'm taking them to Kisuke's, he has plenty of room."
"No." The word was little more than a breath, escaping without his consent.
'I'm just catching the pieces when you drive them away.' The words were burned into his memory and he shook at the thought of Urahara taking his family, taking everything that mattered to him.
"This has gone too far, Ichigo, you can't do this." His eyes were flashing with a dangerous light.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Ichigo seethed bitterly. "This passed too far a long time ago." He turned to Karin. "Go get Yuzu and your things, I'll stay here."
Kon laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want anything specific?"
"No," he didn't bother to look at him, "Just get a couple of uniforms and whatever you feel like wearing, I don't care."
Kon removed his hand and ushered Karin from the room, Jinta trailing a couple of steps behind, though Hitsugaya remained with Ichigo.
Isshin's hands were trembling as he watched them go, turning back to Ichigo with growing anger. "You may not care who you hurt anymore, but I do," he growled. "You're out of control, and I won't let you drag your sisters down with you."
"I'm out of control?" Ichigo eyed him with cold incredulity. "You can't go five minutes without screaming bullshit at people, or storming into other people's houses, or hurting little girls. For fuck sake, you were trying to kill Kisuke right in front of me and you think you have the right to say I'm out of control."
"I didn't go there to kill him, we just wanted to talk to you." Isshin's voice was snapping despite his best efforts to remain quiet.
"That's a pretty fucked up way to have a conversation," Ichigo sneered, his face contorting with anger.
"What did you expect me to do?" Isshin voice was rising, his reiatsu curling around their feet. "It's not like you left me any other options."
"What the fuck kind of option is that?" Ichigo's lip curled back. "You tried to kill someone!"
"I was doing what I thought was right," Isshin snapped. "I was trying to protect you."
"So you're gonna kill all the nasty men in the world and make it all better." Ichigo barked out that cruel laugh again. "Is this daddy coming to carry me away on his fucking white horse?"
There was a brief pause, a boiling, angry silence as Isshin reeled under the weight of the bitterness pouring from his son. Ichigo felt sick just looking at him, watching the warped justifications pouring from his pathetic mouth.
"What do you know anyway, you fucking self-righteous bastard?" The cold edge was creeping back into his tone, a biting sting to the slowly simmering rage. "Do you think that killing is easier just because you have some sort of shitty morality on your side, because you think it's the right thing to do?" His eyes were burning. "It's not a fucking badge you can pin on that makes everything okay, you know. You can't just tuck your good intentions under your pillow at night so that you don't have to see the screaming faces and taste the fucking blood pouring down your throat."
He took a step forward, his reiatsu coiling tight and dangerous as he stared at Isshin with dead, silver eyes.
"You had your chance to go out and protect all of this shit that you claim to care about, and you fucking ran away. You fucking let everyone else go off and fight, and bleed, and die so that you could stand back and preach your fucking bullshit like you have a clue what really happened. "
He was shaking, his chest constricting painfully around his heart, tinting the world in shades of grey. His blood was pounding, calling out for someone to hurt, screaming with the voices of a thousand anguished memories buried safe within his soul. Isshin was staring at him, his lips forming on whatever lofty ideal he thought was going to magically erase the feel of Yachiru's cold body pressing against his chest; the sick slide of Rukia's fingers as they fell through his for the last time; the blood trailing from the corner of Juushirou's eyes, staring sightlessly up at him. Ichigo felt the dizzy twist of nausea lurching in his stomach.
He didn't realize he was moving until he felt a hand on him and he spun, ready to tear and break and crush until the screams in his ears matched the ones in his head. Green eyes bored hard into him, and through the haze he realized that it was Hitsugaya, not Isshin who had touched him. A hand lay against his chest, not grabbing or restraining, just resting in a nonthreatening gesture. He stared down, seeing the twisted understanding in that gaze, reading the fear and pain and fury buried so deep that he could feel the fingers trembling where they lay. He forced his fist to uncurl; releasing the shirt that he didn't remember grabbing and watching him sink a couple of inches back to the floor. He didn't apologize, just turned away, dazed and confused.
Isshin had finally stopped speaking, his lips slightly parted as if the words had simply died, leaving him stranded in horrible silence. He stared between the two boys, his anger tempered by a knot of rising dread. Ichigo stared back, his eyes distant and unfeeling, cold chips of ice regarding him without a hint of affection.
The other one, who Isshin had finally recognized as a Shinigami captain, was idly rubbing his throat, his face carefully neutral as he looked towards the stairs to where Kon was lounging against the wall. The mod soul cocked his head to one side, running his eyes over the three of them before disappearing back upstairs.
"You're not worth the effort that people put into saving you." Ichigo's voice held a brutal finality and Isshin belatedly recognized the truth behind Urahara's words.
He had pushed his son so far beyond his reach that nothing he could say would ever make a difference. This wasn't the surly, rebellious boy that had torn recklessly off to Soul Society in pursuit of a friend three years ago. This wasn't the angry kid who had run his mouth, and screamed, and raged because he thought that someone was being unfair, or because he wasn't getting his way. This was the man who had stared at him without mercy, who would have killed him without hesitation for daring to harm those with whom he'd walked through hell. This was Urahara's Ichigo, not his.
"Ichigo-"
"Don't make a scene or this is the last time you'll see any of us." Ichigo's voice was rigid as he cut him off, turning towards the stairs as Kon rematerialized. He was chatting easily with Yuzu and Karin like it was any other day, and Ichigo had to admire his ability to lie so easily.
Hitsugaya swung one last look between Isshin and Ichigo before stepping away to take a bag from Karin, smiling politely as he was reintroduced to her sister.
"Isn't it exciting, daddy, I haven't seen Jinta and Ururu in sooo long." Yuzu skipped unseeing past her Shinigami brother, babbling happily. "Karin told me about you having to go to that conference, why didn't you tell me? I would have made you a lunch for the train if I'd known."
Isshin seemed frozen in place but it didn't matter because Kon cracked a joke about old men and memories, laughing uproariously, his eyes hard as flint. Yuzu giggled into her hand, looping her arm with Karin who had pulled out her own tainted smile.
"I know we could stay here, but this way it's like an adventure and Karin can finish her project with Jinta, and I can go shopping with Ururu." Yuzu was still smiling. "Besides, Ichi-nii always grumbles about having to stay at home while you're gone." She pouted at Kon and he ruffled her hair affectionately.
"I told you I have stuff to do." He rolled his eyes. "And this way you can see your friends."
She laughed again, and Karin pulled her towards the door, engaging in a lively banter with Jinta and Hitsugaya to keep her distracted. Isshin started to follow, started to call out after them but Ichigo stepped in front of him, his reiatsu crackling in warning.
"Bye pops." Karin shot a hard look back while Jinta blushed at something Yuzu said.
"Oh, bye daddy." Yuzu gave him a sparkling smile. "Have fun on your trip."
Karin pulled her around again and then they were gone, out the door and into the sun like nothing was wrong. Isshin didn't know what to do; he couldn't lash out at Ichigo without exposing the others to the resulting explosion. He couldn't run out the door and pull Yuzu back because she wouldn't understand even if he managed to pry her away from her sister.
"You can't do this," he repeated brokenly, staring into those eyes that didn't seem to know him.
Something flickered in the depths of Ichigo's gaze, a brief shudder of sadness and something else before the indifference settled back into place. "Stay the fuck away from the shop."
He turned away, pacing to where Kon still waited.
"I heard about the Shinigami investigation," Isshin called after him, looking for anything to keep him from walking out the door.
Ichigo faltered, turning to face him with narrowing eyes. "How did you hear about that?"
"I…" Isshin clenched his jaw, realizing far too late the role he'd played in this. "You have to believe that I didn't mean for this to happen."
Ichigo ignored the words as he recognized the most likely source of the information. He felt a small thrill of worry; he hadn't seen Urahara since he'd gone out on his errands earlier that morning. He spun again, ignoring the voice that called after him as he stalked away from what had once been his home.
(*)
It was almost evening when Ichigo found Urahara sitting in a densely wooded area of an overgrown park, watching the sun set between the trees. He'd gotten his sisters settled before heading out to search for the former captain, worry gnawing at the back of his mind. The task had not been easy; Urahara suppressed his reiatsu as his natural state, a habit born from both the war and his prior period of exile. It had taken hours until he finally drifted close enough to feel the whisper of him on the gently flowing breeze.
He was sitting cross-legged in a slight clearing, slouched over and spinning his hat slowly between his fingers. He looked up as Ichigo approached, his lips lifting in a faint, wistful smile of acknowledgment. There was a dark smudge along the left side of his jaw, a vivid, angry marring of the otherwise flawless skin. Ichigo's eyes narrowed as he crouched beside him.
"That fucking bastard." His voice was sharp but his fingers were gentle as he reached out to ghost across the bruise.
"I ran into a door," Urahara murmured softly, giving him another faint smile. "Horribly clumsy of me."
"That's not funny," Ichigo growled, giving him a hard look.
"Yes it is," the blond assured him, reaching up to catch his wrist, pulling it away from the tender flesh.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Ichigo fell forward onto his knees, worry making him sound angrier than he really was.
Urahara tugged on the wrist and Ichigo allowed himself to be dragged into his lap, resting his forehead against the curve of the pale neck as arms closed around him.
"It doesn't matter." The words were sad and quiet against his hair.
Ichigo recognized the tone and knew he didn't want to talk about it so he let it drop, nuzzling a little deeper into his neck. He felt fingers run up his spine, traveling through his hair as the other arm tightened around him. He sighed softly into the skin.
He shifted again after a moment, working around until he was straddling the blond, bringing them face to face. The arms resettled around him and he raised a hand up to brush the tendrils of hair from the other man's cheek. Soft lips curved slightly as Urahara leaned into the touch, exhaling some of the tension from his body.
"I thought we were going to stop doing stupid shit," Ichigo reminded him, his other hand tracing the bruise again.
"I believe that only applied to you," Urahara pointed out, his tone soft and dry as he winced under the touch. "I'm not the one prone to sweeping displays of melodrama."
"You're such a smartass lately," Ichigo murmured, a soft frown still marring his brow.
"You're just paying closer attention," the other man countered, sounding a little more like himself.
Ichigo snorted softly, ignoring the hiss of pain as he cupped the side of his face. Urahara reached up, gripping the wrist but didn't pull him away as he saw Ichigo's eyes slip shut, lips moving as he muttered something under his breath. His reiatsu rose around them and Urahara bit back a grunt as he felt the burn of slightly unstable kidou ripple over his skin.
Ichigo's lashes stirred and Urahara caught the faintest hint of a glow before the tingle faded. Lips parted slightly as Ichigo exhaled, his eyes drifting open slowly. He pressed his fingers a little deeper and Urahara noted, with some degree of astonishment, that the pain seemed to have receded. He rotated his jaw and found it only marginally uncomfortable to do so.
"I believe we had a discussion about untrained kidou experimentation." His eyebrow twitched subtly.
"Ingrate." Ichigo leaned in, his lips brushing over the curve of his jaw.
He slid forward, trailing soft, apologetic kisses over the slightly discolored skin. He knew it was his fault that Urahara had been hurt, even if the other man would never blame him.
"I'm sorry." The words stirred against pale skin as Ichigo dropped his head onto his shoulder. "It wasn't fair of me to fuck up your life like this."
Urahara's eyes slid closed as he pulled him closer, cradling the smaller body against him and resting his cheek in his hair.
"It's not your fault," he sighed. "My life was complicated long before you showed up."
"But I'm making it worse," Ichigo murmured and Urahara felt arms sliding around him.
"No, you're just making it different." He reached up to stroke the back of the younger man's neck, trying to relieve some of the tension settling there.
Ichigo turned his head, his lips brushing over sensitive skin as he spoke. "I took Yuzu," he admitted softly.
"I know." Urahara felt a rolling sadness settle into his chest.
"I couldn't leave her there," he whispered, his voice old and worn.
"I know," Urahara repeated, rubbing his cheek against the hair.
"I didn't think it would be like that." He shifted a little against the embrace, slow, agitated movements.
"Like what?" the blond coaxed, still nuzzling him gently.
"I thought he'd scream and fight, you know, and for awhile he did, but then…" He paused, like he was trying to find a way to voice his chaotic thoughts. "He had that look people get when they're dying, the part where the light just fades out and they know that nothing can save them. He just stood there, like I was killing him, shaking and looking at me with those dying eyes, those begging, hurt eyes. "
Urahara's lashes felt shut, the sadness throbbing a little deeper.
"I thought it would be easier," he sounded confused, his voice almost lost in the still air.
He fell silent again as though he didn't know what should have been easier, or what had failed to make it so.
"I was so angry," Ichigo whispered disjointedly, the threads of memory tangling together in a jumbled mess. "I felt like everything was closing in around me. I almost hurt Toushirou just for touching me."
"What happened?" Urahara tensed slightly, rubbing slow circles against his back.
"I don't even know," Ichigo sounded so lost. "Everything was just wrong for a second; my heart was pounding and all this crazy shit was flashing around in my head...the next thing I know I had a hold of his shirt and he was just staring up at me. Gods, he had this look on his face, it was just… he was just looking at me, and it was like I didn't know who he was, and then I did but it was all fucked up. I don't even remember grabbing him, I just remember… I just wanted to make him hurt, I wanted someone to suffer. I just wanted to hurt him until I…until…fuck."
Ichigo shuddered and Urahara turned, pressing a kiss against the side of his head, trying not to let his worry show. "It's okay, you didn't hurt him and that's what matters."
"It's not okay." Ichigo's voice was so soft that he had to strain to hear it, and there was another pause. "What if I really am losing it?"
"You're not." Urahara nudged him gently, pressing him back until their eyes met. "It's just the stress."
Ichigo's face seems to crumble under the weight of everything pressing in.
"What if I'm dangerous?" His eyes held such haunting agony.
Urahara felt something ripping in his chest, a hopeless, useless frustration that squeezed around his heart. He ached to reach inside Ichigo and tear away the things that were dragging him down, twisting the life out of him. He would have given anything not to see the doubt and grief smothering the fire that had once burned so bright inside him. People like Ichigo shouldn't have to suffer like this, shouldn't have to carry the weight of so many lives, and sorrows, and tortured memories.
Urahara leaned forward and kissed him softly, tasting the pain on his lips. "That's not who you are."
"I don't know who I am anymore, Kisuke." His barriers had all fallen away, the grief and fear swimming so close to the surface that Urahara thought he might drown.
He brought up his hands to frame his face, thumbs stroking over the soft skin as if to soothe away all the things he'd seen, the things he'd done.
"I know who you are," he breathed, feeling the body shiver against him, leaning in to kiss him again.
It was a soft gesture, unhurried and without force, a gentle glow reaching out in the darkness. His hands slid to Ichigo's neck, tracing along his jaw and down his throat to where the life pulsed faintly beneath his skin. Ichigo shivered again, his breath hitching soft and painful as he reached out hesitantly with his tongue. Urahara's lips parted, coaxing him in, tasting the uncertainty, the infinite anguish that he wished he could breathe into himself through the softly trembling kiss.
"You're beautiful," he whispered against those bittersweet lips, the words tumbling free without knowledge or consent.
Ichigo made a soft noise, a choking, broken gasp that brushed hot against his mouth as they came back together. Their tongues slid with aching slowness, speaking of things that were too dark and damaged to ever put into words. Urahara's arms slid around him again, holding him close, sheltering him from the world that had already taken so much.
Ichigo's hands slipped up his chest, fingers shaking slightly as they clenched over his heart. He made a soft whimpering noise in the back of his throat, pressing deeper into the kiss, pouring himself into it like it was his last chance for redemption. The fingers drifted lower, fumbling with the knotted ties, pulling back the cloth to trace over the soft skin beneath.
Urahara shifted under the touch, untangling his arms as Ichigo pushed the shirt away onto the grass. There were no arguments on his lips, no guilt echoing in the back of his thoughts; in that moment he would have given Ichigo anything he asked without hesitation or question.
Ichigo's mouth slid sideways, trailing back over the marred skin of his jaw, slipping further to ghost over the curve of his ear. Urahara leaned into the touch, pale fingers pulling the ties at the lean waist until they fell away. He pealed back the layers of the kimono, pushing beneath them to run his hands over the gentle ridges of his spine. Ichigo leaned forward, skin pressing against naked skin as he continued his slow decent along the sweep of the arching neck. He pulled back, seeking out the green-grey gaze, eyes dark with turbulent thoughts.
Urahara withdrew a hand, reaching up to cup his jaw as he kissed him again. He tipped Ichigo's head back; lips sliding over the pointed chin and down to suckle the delicate rise of his collarbone. Ichigo let out a shuddering sigh and Urahara slipped his kimono down over one shoulder, following the path with his mouth. Dark lashes fluttered softly as the younger man arched against him, lips parting as a tongue slipped out to taste him.
Ichigo's fingers closed on a peach colored nipple, rolling it lightly as Urahara hissed against his neck. Soft hair tickled his skin and he buried his other hand in the blond locks, holding him closer as the lips moved along his throat. Long fingers were trailing down his spine, splaying across his back and he rocked forward into the hardness pressing against him.
Urahara groaned softly, pulling him closer, sliding against him through their remaining clothes. He reached down, teasing Ichigo's nipple in return, finally pulling a low moan from slightly parted lips. He dipped lower, tracing the curve of his ribs, the ridges of the stomach that twitched under his fingers. He came to the edge of Ichigo's hakama and felt him exhale sharply against his hair, hips twitching in anticipation and need.
"Please..." The sound was little more than a breeze stirring the shell of Urahara's ear, but it carried so many emotions that it curled in his chest.
He unwound the ties with practiced fingers, feeling a tongue tracing his earlobe, faltering slightly when the warm mouth closed over it. He reached inside; brushing Ichigo through the confines of his fundoshi and felt a shiver run through the smaller body. He pulled the remaining cloth loose, wrapping his hand around his arousal and stroking him with deliberate grace.
Ichigo rose against him, releasing his ear as another broken moan tore from his throat. He threw back his head, thrusting onto the fist, grinding against Urahara and drawing a groan of response. The blond leaned forward, sucking at the exposed flesh of his throat, rolling his hips against the slowly twisting body in his lap.
He felt a hand close over the fingers rolling a dusky nipple and drew back to find Ichigo watching him with heavily lidded eyes. Urahara leaned forward, sliding his tongue through the softly panting lips, inhaling the gasps and hitched breaths as he continued to pump him slowly. His thumb curled up, sliding over his slit, catching some of the liquid to smear across the tender flesh. Ichigo bucked hard, shuddering against him as he groaned into his mouth.
"Kisuke…" He felt a shiver run through him, just like it always did when his name fell from those lips in that thick and heavy tone.
Ichigo's hand slid to his wrist, pulling it higher as he broke away from the kiss. He turned his head drawing three fingers into his mouth, sucking them gently before rolling them with his tongue. Urahara groaned, curling one finger slightly to slide against the moist caress. Ichigo released the fingers, seeking out his gaze, soft brows drawn together on a silent plea as he pushed the hand lower.
Urahara leaned forward, nuzzling against his cheek as he brushed the already loosened hakama aside and pressed down to tease his puckered opening. Ichigo drew a shuddering breath, lost in gentle probing and in the hand still moving languidly over his weeping arousal. One finger slipped inside and he hissed out a moan, still a little sore from not having used their normal lube the night before. He felt Urahara hesitate and rocked back slowly, biting his lip as he impaled himself on the slick digit, begging him to move.
The blond pushed into him slowly, twisting as the body relaxed around him, and felt Ichigo's groan stirring against his hair. He added a second finger, drawing a gasp, trailing soft kisses along his jaw as he continued to stretch him open. He curled his fingers and had to release Ichigo's cock to steady his hips as he jerked forward with a sharp cry. Ichigo rose on his knees, pressing himself to the other body, riding the fingers with soft little sounds.
A nipple hovered tantalizingly in front of his face and Urahara leaned forward, tracing it with his tongue as Ichigo writhed against him. A third finger joined the others and Ichigo threw his head back, panting out his moans, his cock sliding between their bodies with the most delicious friction.
"Gods, Kisuke…" His voice was almost reverent, spoken to the sky as his eyes drifted closed.
Urahara released the nipple, mesmerized by the flush creeping into his cheeks, the way his teeth caught his lip as he rose and fell softly. As if sensing the stare Ichigo's head tipped down, lashes swept low over lust dark eyes. He reached out, tangling a hand in the pale hair, gasping as the fingers sent another spark of pleasure through him. The hand on Ichigo's hip slid away, trailing up beneath his fluttering kimono as Urahara continued to stare transfixed.
The fingers were withdrawn and Urahara leaned forward, supporting the smaller frame as he lowered him into the grass. Ichigo stared up at him, one hand still tangled in his hair, lips swollen and glistening in the nearly gone light. Lean hips arched off the ground as long fingers stripped away his hakama, exposing him to the gentle breezes swirling around them. Urahara trembled slightly as he reached for the ties on his own pants, pulling them free while he stared down into that glittering gaze.
He crawled over Ichigo, kissing his way up the twisting body to catch his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Arms slid around his back and knees drew up beside him as Ichigo pulled him closer, hips thrusting in a gentle, unconscious rhythm. Urahara pulled away, coating himself with saliva before settling back over the trembling body. Ichigo moaned softly, squirming at the pressure nudging his entrance, trying to draw him in. Urahara leaned closer, running his knuckles over a flushed cheek as he rocked his hips forward in slow, shallow thrusts.
Ichigo bit his lip, hissing as his body was breached, relaxing against the slow intrusion. Urahara leaned down, licking the lip from between his teeth, his groan stirring with Ichigo's hitched breath as he finally slid to the hilt. He inched out and rolled forward again, catching Ichigo's gasp on his tongue, bracing his elbows beside his head as their lips moved together. Long legs slipped further up his body and the younger man arched up into the next thrust, his head falling back as the pleasure simmered through him.
"That…uhhh… so good…" Ichigo murmured, trembling beneath him as he continued to move with long, slow strokes.
Urahara groaned his agreement against the damp neck, lapping at his fluttering pulse. Ichigo panted, bucking against him, moaning soft, senseless curses as Urahara kissed a gasping trail along the curve of his throat. Ichigo's hand dropped lower, resting against the small of his back, pulling him closer as their tempo increased. They moved together effortlessly, practiced and unhurried, untouched by the world passing around them.
"Gods, Ichigo…" Urahara whispered, pulling back to watch him as he continued to writhe.
He could feel the need rising as he gripped Ichigo's hips, angling him better against the next deep thrust. The younger man cried out, arching against the grass, dark lashes sweeping closed against the flush of his cheeks. Urahara was burning, the heat coiling tight, fueled by the pulsing body and the erotic scene before him. He licked his palm and reached between them, curling around Ichigo's neglected cock. The younger man cried out again, his body clenching tight, pulling an answering cry as Urahara thrust harder.
"Oh, Kisuke…gods…" Ichigo was moaning as he rocked against him, riding the pleasure as it started to peak. "…please, Kisuke."
Urahara groaned, driving deeper, pushing Ichigo towards the release he so desperately needed. He could feel the tremors starting to flutter as he increased his pace, grinding hard into that sweet spot that had Ichigo screaming. He twisted his fingers around the straining cock, feeling the body wind tight beneath him.
"Come for me." he panted, broken and rough, and felt Ichigo stiffen instantly with a final, drawn out moan.
He drove into him again, groaning as the young body constricted around him, the release pulsing over his hand as Ichigo fell apart. He continued to stroke him, drawing out the orgasm, watching his face as his own release took him. Ichigo shuddered and he leaned forward, catching those gasping lips, groaning his name as he poured into the welcoming body. He collapsed, crushing him into the ground, kissing him deeply as the tremors wracked their frames. Ichigo's arms slipped around him, pulling him closer, returning the kiss with slow intensity.
The blond pulled back, staring down at those dark eyes still hazed with the afterglow of pleasure. The anguish remained, buried deep beneath the surface, but it had loosened, relinquishing its stranglehold on his soul. Urahara smiled softly, kissing him again before inching out of him slowly, groaning at the tight slide over sensitive flesh. He started to roll away, but Ichigo's arms tensed around him, holding him in place. He relented, shifting his weight to one side and resting his head against the damp curve of his throat. He sighed, running his fingers over the cooling skin.
The silence stretched between them as they lay under the darkening sky, tangled together and mostly naked in the grass. Urahara trailed soft, slow kisses up Ichigo's neck, trying to soothing away the worry still lingering on his face. The arms around him shifted and he pulled back, lifting his head to stare down at the younger man.
"Are you alright?" His voice was soft, his lips hovering just inches from the ones below.
"I'm sorry about this," Ichigo sighed, his breath stirring warm between them.
A pale brow twitched subtly and his lips twisted. "You know, you shouldn't apologize after sex, it sends the wrong impression."
Ichigo stared up at him for a second before the corner of his mouth began to pull. "Fucking smartass."
Urahara's smile grew and he leaned down to nuzzle his cheek. Ichigo reached out to brush his hair back as he pulled away, still smirking faintly but looking more serious.
"What happens if they decide I'm dangerous?" he asked softly, not quite meeting his eyes as he continued to stroke through the pale blond locks.
"It won't happen," Urahara assured him, brushing their noses together.
"You're the one who said they're paranoid." Ichigo finally raised his eyes, looking solemn and reflective. "What if they come for me because they're afraid of what I might do?"
Urahara stared down at him for a moment, watching the emotions swirl in his unmasked gaze. He felt a surge of anger towards anyone who would put Ichigo in that position, anyone who would ever think that of him. He traced his knuckles across his cheek, his eyes hardening under his resolve.
"I would never let it happen," he told him softly, his voice so laced with conviction that Ichigo could do nothing but believe him.
The arms tightened and Urahara went easily into the embrace, wrapping around him, protecting him from both the chill of the air and the darkness of his thoughts. The worry was starting to fade, giving way to a sense of steely determination. He would never let them take him; never let them dishonor all he'd suffered, all he'd given, for the sake of their unfounded fears. If this was his stand then so be it; he would give his dying breath before he allowed them to harm Ichigo.
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Shades of Grey