Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ His Azure Eyes ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter Four

 

A/N: This chapter returns to the Ikkaku/Yumichika pairing. Not proofread yet - proofread version up later today.

 

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Ikkaku was always stereotyped as being a `typical' Squad Eleven member.

 

He was the kind to enjoy a good bottle of sake, the type to live for the thrill of a fight, and the sort to rather nap than do a speck of paperwork. Life for Madarame Ikkaku was simple and that's the way he enjoyed it. He would wake up in the morning and train the recruits and do his duties, slack off in the afternoon either drinking with Tetsuzaemon or wandering around Seireitei with Yumichika, and then in the evening he'd go drinking with the guys or lie in the light of the moon and watch the stars go by.

 

Who could ask for more? No one in their right mind wanted stress, pain, panic, work, no one woke up each morning with the happy thought of paperwork or administration lightening their mood, and no one ever wanted to be treated like a mule or a gopher, carting around messages or running errands like a Squad Four wimp. People craved fun. It was human nature! People loved to drown their problems in alcohol, start a fight to relieve stress, joke around with friends to get a buzz and bask in the afterglow of sex for a new high. Could anyone blame Ikkaku for being one of the guys, for simply being human? He didn't want stress or fuss, he just wanted fun and relaxation, to live life to its fullest and be as strong as he could be! So what if that made him into some sort of macho stereotype, as far as he was concerned he was just a guy who had his priorities straight and knew how to have fun. He wanted his men to look up to him, like he looked up to Zaraki-Taichou, he wanted them to come to him for advice and tips, to say `what a great guy', the last thing he wanted was to be a guy like Kuchiki-Taichou or Hitsugaya-Taichou. He just wanted to be . . . free! He had a great life, one he enjoyed living, and he wasn't going to complain, no way.

 

What right had he to complain anyways? It was guys like Yumichika who had it rough, working away so much that the captain had to actually command them to take a break, even admitting to other squads that the guy had nothing better to do. Captain never took an interest in his squad members, not a real interest anyway, of course he and Yumichika were exceptions but even then his interest was limited, so to make Zaraki-Taichou stop and take note just went to show you how much of a workaholic the guy really was. Ikkaku didn't want to be like that. He'd never wanted to be the one that people pitied, that they worried about, that they looked down on. He wanted to be strong, fun, and lively! To be that way he needed to train hard and play hard, he needed to carry on with his current life philosophy handed to him by Zaraki-Taichou, and he needed to ignore all petty, little matters to focus on the things that were important, things like becoming one of the strongest men in Seireitei and making his captain smile with pride!

 

It might have been that very focus that made him somewhat blind to the things around him. Of course `blind' wasn't an adjective he'd willingly use to describe himself, after all he had the personal insight to achieve bankai, the observant eye of a sensei to teach Renji and the keen perception needed in the heat of a battle to take out an opponent. It just seemed that his lover - and sometimes his captain and friends - didn't think of things the same way he did. If he had to guess he'd have said they were just jealous, focussing on small, silly issues and choosing to forget all his better qualities, probably because they weren't capable of such great feats themselves! Still, out of the charges laid currently against him the one that irked him most was that he was blind to the needs and emotions of his lover, Ayasegawa Yumichika. It seemed that those around him felt that on his list of priorities that Yumichika was second to the love of a fight, and perhaps - according to some - lower on the list than his love of sake, duelling and training.

 

Blind. Huh! He wasn't blind, nor was he stupid, and nor did he put Yumichika last on his list! People just didn't understand, sure he loved to fight and battle, sure he relished in those life-or-death moments, but was he really putting that first? Really? Like hell! When they'd met the Ryoka he'd certainly -! Well, he'd stayed behind to take out Ichigo and let Yumichika go on ahead . . . but his comrade had wanted it that way, loving to fight just as much as he did and finally having an opponent of his own to face. That was fair of him, right? Okay, well, when it came down to the Arrancar fight against Edrad -! Well, that was a bit of a blur but considering he remembered something vague about Yumichika arranging his funeral . . . Fine, but when he was defending the pillar against Poww he definitely put his lover first, because -! Whatever. Time to just forget it. It's not like he had anything to prove really anyway, after all those were pathetic and stupid examples, it wasn't as if he couldn't think of any good examples, it was just that he didn't have the time or effort to sit around conjuring images to prove his point . . . Where was the sake when you needed it?

 

He didn't want to admit it but - if he actually spent a few minutes seriously pondering the matter - he'd have to say that people had a point: he did put his love for fighting before his lover.

 

He remembered laughing at Yumichika's hair after his fight with Ganju, knowing how seriously Yumi took his looks and - . . . and he didn't care, he'd just laughed, finding it just so funny! It was such a knock on his lover's ego, actually hurting Yumichika and making him paranoid for a while, making him fuss and preen and prance in the mirror more than usual, hating more than ever to get his hair in the slightest mess lest Ikkaku laugh like that again. It had been kind of cruel of him to be honest, but then again surely Yumichika needed to learn to get a joke, to see the lighter side of things? What kind of man took life so seriously? Jeez, they could die any minute, at any moment! They should be enjoying life, not stressing over how they looked, life was much too short after all. If anything he should be mad at Yumi for being so superficial and shallow! Hell, at least he had hair to be worried about, what about Ikkaku, he had none! Yet that wasn't the only time he'd forgotten to put his lover first, was it? He could still hear Yumichika's cold, emotionless tone in his head asking for funeral arrangements, he could sense the fear and pain from his friend, the complete grief and heartbroken feelings as he tried so hard to gain composure and stay resolute, knowing nothing could be done to change the events, knowing he had to accept things because to interfere would be to risk Ikkaku's anger and maybe hatred . . . but that wasn't what Ikkaku had remembered of that day. Sure he'd acknowledged his lover's hurt and felt hurt in return, but what he remembered most was the huge rush of adrenaline, the way his mouth watered in anticipation and how his heart beat a hundred miles an hour, eager to win an ever-losing match . . .

 

Was it really so cold? Was it really putting the fight first to remember nothing but the fun and excitement he felt whilst Yumichika was breaking inside, scared half to death over losing his longest friend and closest ally, unable to show a thread of emotion as his first priority and duty was to protect Keigo and the town? Ikkaku wasn't sure at this point. His own heart felt torn in two. Sure he felt bad for Yumi, no one really deserved to feel that way or experience such heartache, but at the same time the fight had really pushed him to his limits and taught him new skills! It had been fierce, fun, fantastic and by God the rush he'd gotten had been better than any drug or drink imaginable!

 

He loved the feeling of his limbs itching to move, his mind almost in another place as he found a focus so rare, seconds morphing into hours as time itself became lost in a moment, his sole passion and reason for existence the moment in itself. The feeling of his eyes almost aching in intensity, his senses heightened to a maximum not quite expressible in words, his throat aching for the breaths he took and heart almost bursting with so many beats -! It was all too much, yet not enough. He longed for it again, felt nostalgic over the past moment, and realised for a split second that he'd have done it all over again if given the chance, because to pass on a fight like that would be insanity at its best. It was good, it was great, it was like that moment during sex right before the climax, that moment when you can hear your heartbeat and fear it could be your last, hearing it loud as a drum in your ears as your body is coated with sweat, dripping so much and staining what little clothing you wear, and yet you don't care! All you care about is that feeling of bliss, of excitement, of utmost pleasure and knowing you have such control that this moment it truly yours, something you can own and manipulate all before it explodes, ending in a brilliant burst of light where there is no winner, and there is no winner as you both have won that thrill and sheer ecstasy of testing your skills! If only Yumichika could feel it that way, feel the sheer intimacy of two warriors pushing each other to the limits, that physical push and the way two minds became as one, how you anticipated each others moments and reacted to those moments, your minds both locked in that same moment, both craving and desiring the same thing, both working to resolution, both spiritually and physically connected almost as one! Perfection!

 

Yumichika was a member of Squad Eleven, a member of the strongest and most powerful squad in the whole of Seireitei, a man who belonged to the elite! Why couldn't he understand it? Why couldn't he just accept the part of Ikkaku that lived for the thrill instead of chastising him for it? If anything he should understand better than anyone! He should be the first person to whom the passion of fighting made sense! He was one of them; he was a comrade and one of the team, so why couldn't he get it? What would it take to make him see it from Ikkaku's view?

 

The stupidest thing, of course, hadn't been this recent, little rift between himself and Yumi, but something that Abarai Renji had said: `Ya ever think that maybe he's just as passionate as you, but that his passion lies elsewhere? I mean Kira had to knock him out to stop him getting to ya, Ikkaku. Kira! Man, I couldn't believe it when they told me, ya know?'

 

When he thought about it everyone had different passions and ambitions in life; Zaraki-Taichou had his fights, that Kuchiki girl her little rabbit obsession, Kurostuchi his weird experiments and Kyoraku-Taichou the women . . . Everyone knew that Yumichika had an obsession with his looks, pretty much universally known as the `gay narcissist', perhaps working a lot harder to stereotype those of his sexuality than Ikkaku ever could for the men of Squad Eleven, yet what if Renji was right? What if Yumi's true passion lay elsewhere, what if it was Ikkaku?

 

Sometimes he forgot his lover was only a fifth-seat, after all he was colourful and beautiful, intelligent and carefree, hard-working and dependable, he was the guy who you knew would get the work done and the guy who could hand you your ass in battle. He was everything a lieutenant should be and equal in strength to anyone of the rank of lieutenant, perhaps even stronger than some. It was why when he heard the story of Yumi fighting to hell and back to get to him he hadn't thought twice, why should he? It wasn't until it was pointed out he'd disobeyed direct orders from Hisagi-Fukutaichou and was forced to be disciplined by Kira that he'd clicked, realising just to what extent his lover had been willing to go to get to him, just what rules he'd been willing to break to save him. It was as if his love, passion and loyalty to Ikkaku had made him forget his duty, forget his rank, and forget even the philosophy of his squad! It was as if in that moment nothing and no one meant more than Ikkaku, as if Ikkaku had became his reason for breathing and his reason for living, as if Ikkaku's seemingly inevitable death meant the death of Yumichika too. The absolute fear in his lover, his hysterical nature and how panic-stricken he'd become . . . was Ikkaku really that much to him? If he was then maybe that was why his comrades saw Ikkaku as someone cruel, as someone who thought less of his own lover than the heat of battle, because no matter how hard Yumi expressed his lover he never paid note, never gave him the credit or acknowledgment that any other friend would. Yumichika seemed to have some inexpressible devotion to him, something so strong that the word `love' seemed to fail in definition, something so strong that `love' no longer held a meaning, and all Ikkaku ever did was shrug it off to head into battle. He'd always do his lucky dance for an opponent, but when had he ever done it for Yumi? Had he ever expressed just how lucky was to have Yumi? What, not once? Not ever? Damn it.

 

It wasn't that he didn't love Yumichika. He did. He remember every moment they shared in the Rukongai; he remembered everything about his lover down to the last detail. He could remember Yumi's slightly longer hair, how it's been shoulder length with bangs longer than the rest, how soft and silky it had always felt despite how they could rarely afford to have a hairdresser see or style it, and he remembered the way it'd feel trailing over his body as his partner kissed a path down his chest and abdomen. He remembered those bright, colourful kimonos his partner would wear, always so vibrant to express his full personality, always so colourful as if to draw attention, as if to say `I'm perfect, what else would you want your eyes drawn to?' He loved the way the soft fabric felt on his skin, how easy it was to pull open the obi sash and expose his love, how the material would rustle as it hung off Yumi's arms as they made frantic love in a back alley, hidden from sight. Most of all he remembered how Yumichika always seemed to wear a permanent smile, a slight smirk that would tug at one corner of his mouth, as if to express a mixture of comfort and superiority, as if expressing a sense of happiness and contentment alien to many and most in such a grimy, poor district. The one thing that he'd always remember - seared onto his memory - was the way that his lover panicked when he'd fought Zaraki-Taichou, worried even if he tried so hard to hide it. Even then he'd loved Ikkaku enough to express obvious emotion, to care about his safety and well being . . .

 

He really did love Yumichika . . . So what if he loved fighting more? Did a musician give up his music, a painter give up his paints, a writer give up his pen, all for the name of love and passion? No! They let it inspire them! They found a muse in their loved ones, a reason to play, paint and write, a reason to exist and express themselves, a reason to perform the arts that were so essential to their souls! Surely that was the way it was with him and fighting? Yumichika was his muse, his reason to live and his reason to win; Yumichika was the prize at the end and the thing to focus on, the thing to inspire him to great heights and to perfect his strength and talents! Surely his lover should feel honoured, proud of the fact he could inspire such strength in a man so powerful, great and warrior-like? That was Yumichika's problem; the guy just couldn't see the wood for the trees! Idiot. That's what he was, an idiot! Sure he could be smart and brave, but ultimately he was an idiot, because - quite frankly - what normal person didn't love a decent match or sparring session? Hell, even Yachiru loved physical tests of strength, and she was just a little girl! What, was Yumi less of a man than a little girl? Huh, the guy really needed to learn some things from life, and if he had to learn them from Yachiru that was just sad.

 

Still, he didn't understand . . . He just didn't understand it at all! If Yumichika loved him that much, truly as much as he claimed and made out, then why - why - had he done what he'd done? Why had he contradicted himself in such a way that it was as if Ikkaku was no longer his priority, as if he'd become secondary in Yumichika's life, something inferior to and a substitute for his real passion, joy and love? Why had he done what he'd done?

 

Everyone always sided with Yumichika. It was always sympathy for how he had to put up with Ikkaku's dangerous behaviour, or sympathy for how he was the one made to do all of the squad's paperwork, or sympathy that he'd been called `middle-aged' by a kid or how his hair was made a mess by a Ryoka, knowing that all he cared about was his looks. No one ever saw a true bad side to Yumichika, not outside of the superficial things such as vanity, narcissism and fear of abandonment, no one ever got to know him well enough to see that deeper, darker side of him. No one knew how Yumichika had claimed in their last argument - in an obvious and pathetic lie - to have a kido-based Zanpakuto, or how he'd been willing to trick that creepy and stalker-like sister of Keigo's with sneaky manipulation, forcing Ikkaku to don a wig just to shut her up. He could lie like the best of them and manipulate the rest of them, he wasn't the perfect angel people assumed, in fact he was more like a demon, a dark and dangerous spirit . . . a succubus! He was a succubus - or an incubus, whatever the word was - a spirit so freaking beautiful all would succumb to it, but secretly evil and nasty and would steal your soul in a heartbeat! Yeah, that's what Yumichika was . . . because - let's face it - what guy who truly claimed to love Ikkaku would do what he'd done, and then just shrug it off afterwards? Who'd do that? Yumichika, that was who . . . bastard . . .

 

Ikkaku sighed deeply and lay back against the rough bark of the tree.

 

The breeze felt particularly cool today, its gentle touch caressing his face much like that of a lover, something so soft it was barely there but something so potent it could rouse you out of any slumber and bring you back to the world of the living. There was a scent of persimmon in the air, making him aware he'd - at some point - wandered into Squad Three's gardens, and somehow even managed to get lost inside them, finding nothing but more and more of those idiotic fruit trees that the defected, captain-before-last had planted about the place. His left hand was balanced on his sake bottle, occasionally he'd tilt it as if to check its contents, and then moan when he could feel it was completely empty, then moan even more when his head would throb at the sound of the first moan, reminding him that even he was subject to hangovers and the pains of drinking binges. His legs were sprawled out on the grass, his feet - free of tabi - could feel the dew-damp grass beneath, enjoying the feel of nature so close against his flesh, something unchanging and stable, something that would never change or betray him. It was overall a beautiful day, a day that anyone could enjoy and endure, and yet -? His heart couldn't find any beauty in it at all. To him the world was nothing but a cold place, a place where beauty hid nothing but deception, and where you couldn't trust anyone, where you'd be stabbed in the back the first chance where it could occur. The world didn't care about him, why would nature? Damn them. Damn it.

 

“Ikkaku? What are you doing here? I thought you despised Squad Three?”

 

Oh God, that voice. Why - of all times - did he have to hear that voice now? Granted the owner seemed cheerful enough, always with a singsong tone to his voice and an airy kind of accent, something bright and rarely dark, something that always seemed to speak of beauty and enunciated every word with proper precision. There was a slight hint of worry, a lilting kind of tone that went up and down, an indication of very mild panic. Usually he loved that voice, along with everything else about Yumichika, but today the very sound grated on his nerves, digging into his flesh with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel, ripping painfully into him as if to reopen last night's wounds.

 

He loved Yumichika, but it was true he loved fighting more, yet it felt right now that the pain he felt at Yumichika's betrayal was greater than anything he would feel if the art of fighting were to be taken away from him. Did that mean he actually loved Yumi more? Is that what it meant when his heart felt like it was being ripped out by the sound of his very voice alone? If that was what it meant that he didn't want to feel love, he wanted his fights but he didn't want this love, because this love meant the pain of being deceived, of being second-best, of being nothing but a lowly substitute. No, he didn't want this love; he didn't want it at all. It hurt too much.

 

“Are you listening to a word I'm saying?”

 

Ikkaku shrugged, seemingly to no one in particular, then lifted his sake bottle and drowned what amounted to a little more than a few stray drops. Still, it was a comfort at least, but without Tetsuzaemon here there was no one else to go get more, well it could be worse at least, after all he managed to get a few drops out of it, better than nothing, wasn't it?

 

“Ikkaku, I am talking to you. Can't you hear me say your name?”

 

“No, I can't Yumi, and that's the problem.”

 

It was at that point that Yumichika walked into Ikkaku's line of sight. His long, lithe arms were folded gracefully over his toned chest, marking him in that one gesture with an air of annoyance and exasperation. His usually pale, flawless complexion was marked with a slight pink tinge, indicating he'd been searching for Ikkaku for a while now, and his eyes were half-lidded in a mixture of both worry and compassion, indicating a sad relief in finding his lover unharmed but a pain in knowing something ate upon his soul. He wore his uniform as always, his shihakusho lying on his skin perfectly, clinging to just the right areas and hanging in others so as to tempt one with the curious thought of what lay underneath, and his orange accessories stood bright and bold as always, forcing one's attention upon him. He was beautiful as always, always so beautiful, and yet the picture of innocence, almost as if he was the victim and not Ikkaku, almost as if he truly didn't know what this was about. Impossible!

 

Ikkaku sighed and pulled his body up so that he could sit cross-legged, his left hand dragging the sake bottle in front of him as if to keep a watch on it, to make sure it wasn't going anywhere. It didn't matter much being as empty as it was, but it was somewhat of a relief and reassurance to have something so constant in his life so close to him. No matter what happened to him he'd always have sake, he'd always have that delicious nectar to keep him company, and no damned bastard in the world would take it from him! Not one! The world could let him down, screw him over, but they'd always be one more sake bottle, one more drop to fill his glass and make the pain go away, and the drunkenness did wonders for memory, always helping one to forget exactly what they needed to forget, and allowing them to remember only what they needed to remember. A perfect remedy, a solution like none other, a true medicine for the soul! Perfection at its best!

 

“How much have you had to drink, Ikkaku?” Yumichika snapped angrily, brushing a lock of his violet hair away from his face with the back of his hand, “Such ugly behaviour is unbecoming of you and will not do. I suggest to you that you sober up right away, Captain will be furious if he knows you've been drinking whilst the rest of us have been training. Aizen will not wait for the likes of you, we must all train whilst we can, and that means leaving the drinking sessions for more appropriate times.”

 

“Relax, will you? We all need a drink or two at times.”

 

“I believe this is much more than `a drink or two'.” Yumi covered his nose and mouth discretely with his hand; it was somehow a graceful action despite being so vulgar in function. “If anything this would consist of `a bottle or two'. You smell terribly of alcohol, it is a most disgusting odour. I suggest you bathe if you wish to touch me this evening, Ikkaku.”

 

“Oh, so now you remember my name.”

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

Ikkaku let out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. It was an instinctive response, a sign of dismissal and frustration, a release of a feeling that was both at once exasperating and amusing.

 

It was a hard feeling to pin down and describe, especially for a man like Ikkaku for a man for which emotions were merely things that held you down, that prevented that final killing blow or made you hesitate long enough to take a hit. Sure, he wasn't stupid, he knew he experienced emotions as much as anybody, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit down and analyse his feelings like some Squad Four wimp! He was a man who lived off instinct, a man who preferred that the depths of his feelings stick to the basics such as hunger, tiredness, lust and - . . . well, that was about it. The times when he felt happy were great; nothing could be better than to be caught in a lucky moment that hopefully led to battle and - preferably - victory! It was just the times when he was forced to feel down that sucked . . . Not to get him wrong, there weren't many times when he felt serious, reflective or mournful, but when he did get those feelings his first instinct was to make them go away. He hated them. It was just - . . . the thing was what was he meant to do when it was Yumichika causing those feelings? Usually he'd talk things out with the guy when he felt crappy, but it wasn't possible to have a heart-to-heart with a guy when it felt like that guy was stabbing you in said heart. In fact it kind of made him feel alone, isolated, like he was the only guy in the world, because now he had no one to turn to, not unless he wanted a fight and with the way he was feeling that was a bad idea, it would only lead to Unohana-Taichou bitching that there were too many recruits needing medical assistance, which was not what he needed right now.

 

There was anger stemming from his feeling of betrayal, a sense of his entire world being tilted upside-down, as if everything he'd ever known had fallen from its allocated place. Ever since their time in Rukongai it'd just been the two of them, two friends and confidantes trusting one another with their lives, two lovers locked together against all potential threats. It'd been hell when they had missions apart but somehow it had never broken or hurt their relationship, only strengthened it, reminding the other how much they missed the one they loved, just how fragile life was, and how that - no matter what - something would pull them back together. Now it seemed like none of that mattered, as if it was just some sort of dream, a nice floating feeling to experience before a harsh awakening, where he'd found out none of it had been real.

 

What was worse was he'd always lived for fights and fighting, it was his first and only love, his passion and what he lived for! So why the hell was he getting so worked up over Yumi? Didn't the others always go on about how Yumi was second best to him, some sort of runner-up to his real love? What a load of crap! If it were true then he wouldn't feel so broken up right now, he wouldn't feel so - so - so goddamned awful! What did they know? Nothing. He almost wanted to be a bit more like Renji or Kira or that Hinamori girl, then he'd be able to know what it was he felt and do something about it! Then again, if he had to spend even a day in any of their shoes he'd probably hang himself, after all if they were examples of what it meant to be sensitive and emotional - . . . Maybe it was better just to not have emotions at all, that way he could be a killing machine, just fight all day and not have any bother about crap like this! Yeah, that would be some dream. Then again, didn't that have a downside too? Hell, he'd seen the way Kurostuchi's daughter got treated and she was the most emotionless Shinigami he'd seen. Damn it, was there any happy medium? Because right now he was in the middle between emotionless and emotional, and he felt like crap, and his other options were hardly any better either. He blamed this on Yumichika; it all his entire fault, all of it, all of it, all of it!

 

“Damn it, Ikkaku! You've had far too much to drink! I despise it when you enter one of these moods, it seems like the only people who can ever deal with you are Tetsuzaemon-Fukutaichou and Captain!”

 

Ikkaku smiled half to himself and tilted his head back, gazing lazily at the treetops above him, watching the almost serene way they moved overhead against the hardening breeze, moving to some unheard melody that only nature was privy to, each branch swaying in time with the other. He wasn't really one for aesthetics and beauty, but even he had to admit it was a pretty nice distraction.

 

“Of for goodness sake!” Yumichika snapped, “If all you are going to do is mope then I shall return to barracks, I have far better things to do with my precious time than to baby-sit a drunk! If you won't tell me what is the matter then don't! I may even -!”

 

“You called out another guy's name.”

 

That certainly shut him up . . .

 

At first his lover's mouth had opened wide with a little gasped sound, almost as if he had chosen to say something but had cut himself off before the words could escape, and then his lips shut tight so that they became nothing but a tense, narrow line. His arms were folded across his chest again, but this time it seemed more a gesture of protection than one of assertion, almost as if he was hugging himself for comfort, trying to pull himself away from Ikkaku's harsh accusation. It was actually a rather `beautiful' gesture as Yumi would put it, something that was graceful and flattering but also seemed to show his vulnerable side, revealing a humanity and warmth that he rarely let show, but at the same time - with his back straight, posture perfect - he seemed powerful, strong and in control.

 

It was a strange but perfect mixture of strength and weakness, something no one else in the world could ever pull off, and the sight of his lover in such a position made him instinctively want to reach out to him, hold him, console him. He wanted to make Yumi feel like his usual self, bring back that arrogant smile and see him strut about without a care in the world, occasionally fixing his hair as if nothing else mattered. Yet he was supposed to hate Yumi right now! He was supposed to be angry and mad, maybe even fight him, so how was it that instead the sight of that now stark white face, narrowed eyes, and downcast expression brought about a sense of pity and guilt, making him want to do nothing but take back his words? He hated seeing Yumi gaze off to his side, looking at the floor with a slight pained expression, wincing around his nose and eyes just ever so slightly. He hated the way Yumi, although beauty, seemed only a fraction of his usual self, and most of all he hated himself for bring the matter up this way, not maturely in the privacy of their own room. Still, he had a right to be angry, right? He had a right to be pissed, a right to bring the matter up, a right to say something! Damn it; how the hell did Yumi always make him feel like these things were his fault? The guy was a demon. He had to be.

 

“I most certainly did not,” Yumi replied softly, sadly, speaking as if to no one, speaking as if unsure of his own words, “I would remember if I had ever said the wrong name in bed, I am certain of it.”

 

“Well you weren't awake,” He mumbled, “You were asleep at the time.”

 

“Oh, well it's obvious then! If I was asleep it could have been anything, Ikkaku, I may have been yelling out a name in the heat of battle, or merely talking to another person, after all my subconscious mind is not limited in people to just you, I do have other friends and colleagues too.”

 

“Ha! You think I don't know the difference! How stupid do you think I am, Yumi?”

 

He watched Yumi flick his hair in a rather petulant, teenage-girl kind of way with a slight `humph' in his voice that he probably assumed Ikkaku wouldn't hear, his eyes half-lidded in what looked like contempt as he bared his neck in his attempt to look away, without moving his body in the slightest. Credit where it was due, Ayasegawa Yumichika was the only person who could look like a sulking, spoilt bitch and still look incredibly hot and doable. He wasn't entirely sure it was a quality he wanted in a boyfriend, but it certainly wasn't one he disliked, after all no one could be against the vision of hotness that stood before him right then, even if they were the type of scumbag who could dream about someone else and scream out their name.

 

“I think you are being quite stupid,” His lover continued, “Captain Zaraki must have hit you one too many times on the head in battle, after all how could you possibly know what kind of dreams I have? Besides, it isn't as if I can control my dreams, is it? I've heard you mumble other people's name several times, however I am secure enough in my beauty, talents and personality to realise that it doesn't mean anything.”

 

“Oh, so now I ain't secure in myself?”

 

“Most certainly not! Not if you can believe I would have a dream about another man, and that it would mean something!”

 

“Yeah? So when you - in the middle of the night - start humping my leg like some dog in heat, moaning like a total whore, that isn't some sort of totally hot sex dream? Oh yeah, I can see that it's obviously innocent when you're hands are all over me and you're mumbling `ah, just there, lick just -!'”

 

“Stop it, Ikkaku.”

 

“Not that I'd mind, I mean like you said we all have those dreams, don't we? There's some men and women that everyone dream about too, I mean I don't know many Shinigami that haven't fantasised about Matsumoto at some point, but you didn't scream out any of the usual names, did you?”

 

“Ikkaku, I don't think -.”

 

“No, you went and screamed out `Hisagi! Hisagi! Oh Shuhei!'”

 

He knew he'd won the argument when he'd seen the look on Yumichika's face. His boyfriend it seemed knew exactly what he was referring to, remembering the dream in a sudden flash of realisation that was impossible to hide from his expression. His face was white as the reflection of the moon, his eyes wide with horror and his lips parted just slightly - ever so slightly - just enough to express his shock, just enough to allow him air without an `ugly' audible gasp for air. Most of all his arms had fallen from his chest to a kind of levitated action just below his waist, hovering in midair as if unable to choose whether to fall or rise, pulled up by an unseen force whilst being forced down with the weight of the burden he was forced to bear. His shoulders has fallen by a degree so small it was hardly noticeable, but the slight sag was noticeable to anyone who knew Yumichika, because anyone who knew him would know that even the slightest relaxation in his features meant a lack of `beauty' to him, marking him as being in a fit of emotion so extreme beauty - for a rare moment - became unimportant to him, secondary to whatever he felt at that fearful moment.

 

He should have been happy to see his lover in such a state. It meant he'd won the argument, that he'd beaten his lover in a battle even if said battle didn't include fights of fists, blood or swords. Any victory was always a good victory, because with it came the sense of superiority one always felt in the heat of the moment, that sense of `I won, I'm better than you' that fills one with pride and joy, a sense of worth and meaning that hardly anything else can ever bring. It meant he'd been right, he'd gotten one over on Yumichika, that he could feel that content at being victorious, and yet -! He didn't feel victorious at all. No, he felt kind of dejected, broken, like a puppet who'd just had its strings cut, an empty being without any real reason to exist, something that could only lie there knowing all it'd lived for had been taken away in one brutal movement. It hurt him like a knife to see his lover in such pain, but even worse it hurt him knowing that his lover could call out another man's name and not deny it, not even have an excuse or reason! It was a betrayal! It was abandonment! It was the man he'd loved, after all this time, growing bored of him and fantasising about someone else, screaming out someone else's name, wanting someone else! He wanted to hurt Yumichika, fight him and hurt him, make him bleed and hurt so that he would know just what hurt that he was feeling, and at the same time he wanted to run, to hide, to escape such feelings because he knew there was no way he could ever hurt Yumi, he just couldn't! No matter what he'd always love Yumi, always.

 

After a few long moments Yumi visibly sagged and took a few steps closer to Ikkaku, stepping beside him before falling gracefully upon the soft ground, folding his legs underneath him in a rather feminine manner. His long, lithe fingers clasped one another in a way that for some reason reminded him of nobility, his hands resting gently on his lap in an unmoving way, holding one another as if seeking comfort that he would surely not receive from Ikkaku. His violet locks blew slightly in the breeze and his eyes were cast on the floor, unable to make contact with Ikkaku, unable to look him in the eye and address the matter full on. Was he guilty? Was he about to apologise? Maybe he felt he'd done nothing wrong, or maybe he had a very good reason, maybe - just maybe - Ikkaku would be able to forgive him, go back to loving him and forget it had ever happened . . . just maybe.

 

“It isn't what you think, Ikkaku,” Yumichika whispered softly, “I won't deny that I am mildly attracted to him, but it isn't romantic at all I can promise you, in fact if left long enough with him I'd be very much inclined to fight him. My dream was no different from the ones you sometimes find yourself having, no different to you dreaming about Matsumoto-san or Zaraki-Taichou.”

 

Ikkaku found himself blushing, despite his every attempt not to. Granted it was far from being a manly expression but it was instinct, a natural reflex that he couldn't help, and therefore there was no way it could reflect on his masculinity! If it was someone like Kira or Yumi then maybe it would be girly or pathetic, but on Ikkaku it was merely a natural reaction to a naturally shocking statement. He was not embarrassed, he was merely enraged - that was it! - he was enraged and thus flushed with anger! Not blushing, no, he never blushed.

 

“T-Those are completely different!”

 

“Oh? How is that so, Ikkaku? My dream obviously means I'm having an affair or no longer interested in you, but your little man-crushes don't mean anything at all? My, such double standards are so ugly.”

 

“Mine obviously don't mean anything! I mean it's only natural I look up to Zaraki-Taichou, he's everything I aspire to be, but I wouldn't stand a chance with such a bloodthirsty guy, even if I wanted to. Hell, he's the Demon of Squad Eleven! The day that guy finds someone to date or even screw on a regular basis is the day Kuchiki-Taichou learns to let loose a bit! As for Matsumoto, well . . .”

 

“Don't you think it's the same for myself and Hisagi-Fukutaichou? I do believe the first time I met him properly was during the Ryoka problems, and I fought him, beat him and destroyed him! My, it was such a great battle! Not one scratch upon me, to which I owe thanks to my wonderful Ruri'iro Kujaku! My, I don't believe we've really met much outside of that one time, of course there was that one time during that horrid fight, but I shall always despise him for that moment, he held me back! He stopped me from reaching you! I can never forgive him for holding me back, not when I needed so badly to get to you, to help you!”

 

“Yeah? Well if you hate the guy that much then why dream about him in such sex-filled situations? Why not dream about me? Most people only dream about people they want sexually or romantically, if you don't want him romantically then it's got to be sexually?”

 

Ikkaku hurled the sake bottle high before throwing it hard as possible across the gardens; it crashed hard against the bark of a distant tree, scarring its surface with a series of scratches. It was probably immature, probably childish too, but he just needed to express his anger and it was such an easy way to! He hated to admit it but he felt kind of inadequate, like he was no longer able to satisfy Yumi, that he was no longer good enough to attract him. He felt ugly, pathetic, like his lover wanted someone else, no longer wanted him, he felt like - like - one of those peahens, something only good for fighting because it sure as hell wasn't as pretty as its counterpart.

 

“Let me guess,” Ikkaku continued, “Bald guys don't do it for you anymore? You want the ones with luscious hair, and scars - oh yeah, don't forget the facial scars - `cause facial scars are just so much more manly, ain't they?”

 

“Ikkaku, it isn't like that . . .”

 

Yumichika let out a long deep sigh.

 

It was so frustrating for him to be in this situation. It just seemed that these days they were always fighting, arguing or bickering time after time again, always picking on little things to blow far out of natural proportions.

 

Luckily, more often than not, their little spats seemed to be innocent in most regards, such as the time Yumichika had super-glued that wig upon Ikkaku's head, but even then in such `innocent' disagreements he'd find his lover exploding in a temper tantrum, throwing a fit as if he were no more than a child. Over time he'd grown to live with it, accept Ikkaku's highly-strung, aggressive nature as being a part of his innate personality, of being a part of his philosophy, a part of his loyalty and comradeship to Squad Eleven. He'd grown to accept Ikkaku for whom he was. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't completely unbothered by such behaviour, why of course he was, such behaviour was ugly and unkind and immature, and he'd rather spend time with a calm person than an irate Ikkaku any day, but - overall - he'd come to accept his lover's flaws, and he'd come to love him despite them. It was only fair after all, because Yumichika would be willing to admit that he himself had some very minor defects that did not enhance his natural perfection, and if he expected to be loved for who he was then it was only right he should accept Ikkaku for who he was also. Fair was fair.

 

Although . . . if he were to think strongly about it . . . that was the problem, was it not? He loved Ikkaku, loved him with the very depths of his soul, the other man was a part of him and one which he cherished and adored, a part of him that had always been there and he prayed always would. Ikkaku had been there in the Rukongai, he'd been there in the Academy, and he'd been there by his side as they joined Squad Eleven and began their careers as Shinigami. To lose Ikkaku would be to lose a part of himself, a part of his identity, it would be to lose an entire section of his life, history and soul. The one thing he feared most in this world was to be alone, truly alone, and if for some reason he offended Ikkaku then that was what he would be: alone.

 

It hurt him so much to think of losing his lover that his fear would always cause his heart to pound, his throat to go dry and his stomach to sink, a feeling of intense dread that stole away his senses and left him but a shell of a person. Each time he came close to losing Ikkaku he lost all reason and rationale, he became an animal of instinct, consumed by a desperate terror, his sole purpose to bring back the love he was so close to losing. Perhaps it was true he had a fear of abandonment, the thought of losing his Captain, his lieutenant or his friends . . . it tore him inside, brought about a sense of pain that nearly crippled him and often made him double over, and that very fear was what had caused him to lie about his Zanpakuto, to lie about himself. The idea of losing them was too much to bear, and so to lose Ikkaku -? That would be a thousand times worse. It was the reason why he sought never to push his lover, never to pressure him or lecture him, never to annoy him or change him, he would always, always accept Ikkaku for who he was because to even mention one fault was to risk his anger, and to risk his anger meant risking their entire relationship. What if he spoke of something Ikkaku didn't like and Ikkaku left? What if he tried to change his lover's behaviour and it was an integral part of his personality? He couldn't risk losing the man he loved. He could not!

 

Yet, as he said, that was the problem. The problem was that there was a slight flaw with Ikkaku that he couldn't bear to mention, something that was constant and always there in his life like an invader trespassing upon his space, something bad that marred a place that should otherwise be good. This was the man he loved, adored, worshiped and yet he somehow couldn't feel loved back. He felt second place - always second place - second place to their work, to the thrill of the fight, to the lure of the drink, to the fun of the match. He felt second place to his respect of Zaraki-Taichou and his comradeship with Tetsuzaemon-Fukutaichou, and most of all he had no idea how to compete, to redeem himself, to make himself worthy! Of course he looked like a god, he was perfect in every way, and yet that wasn't enough and nor was his own spectacular personality it seemed. He wanted to talk about it, mention it, to simply say something but how could he? How could he when to question their relationship might make Ikkaku turn tails and run? How could he question and criticise his lover's feelings when that might simply make Ikkaku realise that the hassle wasn't worth it, that Yumichika wasn't worth it, that it was simply better to up and leave? Maybe he was just as much as a fool as Ikkaku, the man who was willing to die in a battle to simply save his pride, because at least his lover and captain had reasons to fight to the death, at least they fought for something real to them . . . His only reason for fighting to the death, for being so willing to sacrifice his life, was his fear of losing those he loved, the fear of them leaving him, and when you thought about what kind of reason was that? It wasn't one. It wasn't one at all . . .

 

He looked to Ikkaku who was grinning in an almost maddening way, their eyes locking for a brief moment in which they seemed to share a spark, something special and unique, a moment of understanding that no one else could ever hope to understand or decipher, a moment uniquely belonging to them. His lover's eyes seemed to flicker with sadness, a sense of deep regret that only an understanding of the inevitable can bring, and in his own he was sure the very same emotion was being reflected back. His own regret that he could not be what Ikkaku wanted, his sorrow that he may lose the man his loved, his own fear that this could be it, that there could simply be no more. It was too hard to bear.

 

“Ikkaku,” He said sadly, this time refusing to break his eye contact, needing that connection no matter how tenuous it may be, “I love you deeply, but you must understand that no matter how much I love you that you always seem to put the thrill of the fight before me! It hurts me, Ikkaku. It hurts me to see you always training and fighting, ignoring me in the process.

 

“You are aware that when you trained with Renji that I was convinced you were cheating? You locked yourself away with him for so long whilst doing the one thing you loved more in the world, and as for me -? I actually had to speak to him afterwards where he had to assure me nothing happened between the two of you! I was so scared, so scared you'd found someone else. You fight, drink, train and sleep and these things seem so important to you, but how often have you ever said to me how you feel, how often do you touch me and hold me when it's not to instigate sex, and how often do you simply choose my company over that of a drinking binge or a bloodthirsty fight? I don't feel loved, Ikkaku. I feel . . . insignificant.”

 

At least Ikkaku had the decency to look embarrassed at that. His cheeks were slightly flushed red, although that may have been from the sake, and his eyes were focused and steady as they seemed to look away at some fixed point up ahead. It was unusual but his whole facial expression seemed narrowed, lengthened but with tension upon his jaw, almost how he appeared when Yumichika had first came to him in the medical room of Squad Four after the Ryoka attack, that very same look of serious reflection, or understanding, and - most of all - of defeat.

 

“So that's your excuse for wanting someone else? It's all my fault? Grow up, Yumi.”

 

“Don't you get it, Ikkaku?” Yumi snapped, his face becoming slightly less than beautiful as a look of frustration overcame him, “I don't want anyone else! I want you, only you! The only reason I dreamt of Hisagi-Fukutaichou is - is - . . . it's because I want some affection, alright?”

 

He blushed wildly and at once straightened his back, rolling his shoulders as he threw he glance to his left, looking as far away from Ikkaku as he could. It was all so embarrassing! It was hard to believe he was having a conversation like this, hard to believe that it had even came to this, that his life had forced him to confront an issue he'd have rather left hidden. Perhaps it was better to be honest, to discuss the matter together like a real couple, like a mature couple, but all he could think was `what if Ikkaku thinks I'm weak? What if he no longer wants me?' because surely that was the real issue? What if Ikkaku didn't want him? What if he was no longer good enough? What if he left him all because of this stupid conversation? What then?

 

“You -,” His lover seemed to stumble on his words, probably too shocked to speak properly, “You want affection. That's why you had that dream, because you want `affection'?”

 

“Yes, Ikkaku. I want affection.”

 

He sighed and continued, his gaze moving to a soft patch of grass in front of him, his eyes observing it for all its natural beauty and for its freedom, for how no matter what it would always have a purpose, a reason for being, for how that would never be taken away from it. Sure it existed mainly to be trodden upon, to be subservient to others, but what it had was an innate purpose independent of others, something that no one could ever take from it. He wanted that purpose. He wanted to know that he didn't need anyone, that he could live without the captain or Ikkaku, that he was simply free. He hated being so scared of losing his loved ones, of being terrified that this moment may be his last with his lover, he hated it . . . he hated feeling so weak, so controlled, so consumed by fate and the will of others. No one else's feelings should be a concern of his, and yet they were; their pity, their disgust, their rage, it all mattered, all of it . . . he couldn't have Ikkaku see him in such a way, he just couldn't.

 

“I want affection. I want to feel loved. I want to feel needed, wanted, desired! I want to feel someone wrap their arms around me and tell me everything will be okay, I want them to whisper in my ear that they'll never leave me, I want them to look into my eyes and say `I love you' as we make love. To you I'm nothing but an object! You only hold me when you want to take me, you can't promise me you won't leave me as you risk you're life daily, and you rarely look into my eyes as all you care about is the thrill of the sex! I love you so much, I would never leave you, and yet -?”

 

“Oh, there's more?”

 

“Yes there is more! Hisagi-Fukutaichou, although I do not love or lust for him, is an affectionate man. He is the sort to share his emotions, to hug his friends when they are hurt, to hold back even a virtual stranger when they are ready to risk their lives. He is the sort of man who cares for others and will not hide that feeling, he'll express it and let the people he loves know that they are loved. Even now he fights to win back the affections of his captain who betrayed him, even now he fights for the captain that came before, the one he lost so many years ago and revered. He is an affectionate man. I dreamt of him merely because I wanted affection, and he is the most affectionate person I know, I dreamt of him because it was the only way I could get what I needed . . . in a dream.”

 

Ikkaku tensed at those words. It was hard to hear, and certainly not something he'd ever considered, in fact it hadn't even crossed his mind for even a second. He'd just assumed the moment he heard Yumichika having that dream that it'd just been a lust thing, that his lover no longer desired him and wanted someone else, anyone else, and now he felt he'd been hit on the head with a rather heavy realisation. It sounded strange, and he doubted anyone else would even believe it, but Yumi's dream had been pretty innocent and based on his love for Ikkaku, he loved Ikkaku too much to leave him, cheat on him or even hurt him by raising the point, and so - instead - he sought affection the only place he could, in the sanctuary on his own mind. He'd never once thought that his selfish behaviour would actually hurt his lover, that by focusing solely on the fights and putting his lover second that he'd feel neglected, and frankly he wasn't a mind-reader, he'd always assumed if anything was wrong that his boyfriend would tell him. He'd been neglecting the person he loved most in the world, making them feel inadequate and imperfect by always thinking of them last, by always putting their needs second. It was a pretty crappy feeling all in all. He felt about two inches tall, to just know he'd done something so low and hurtful made him feel less of a man. It was like hitting an opponent whilst his back was turned, or taking someone on two-against-one, it was something you just didn't do! It was unethical to hurt his lover, to make him feel this way, to put his needs before the guy he loved, and he felt really shameful. It was far from a nice feeling at all.

 

“Yumi . . .”

 

Yumichika mentally sighed. He knew what was coming, it would be the moment where he lost his lover for good, where Ikkaku finally realised that he just wasn't worth the trouble and left him. He should never have openly asked for more `affection', it sounded far too much like a criticism, like he was personally attacking Ikkaku, and how would any rational person react to something like that? Yet - yet the fear of losing the man he loved was too much! His head felt so light, like it was swimming under all of the pressure, ready to cave in at a moments notice, his heart felt like the fluttering wings of a butterfly, something light and unsteady, something chaotic and yet fragile, and all the while his breathing seemed jerky, like if he didn't take the next gasp for breath he may hyperventilate entirely. He didn't want to hear the words that were about to come, he just couldn't!

 

“Yumi, I'm sorry . . .”

 

He blinked several times and looked on at his lover curiously, half wondering whether he should feel relief at those words or sheer shock that they were even spoken. He couldn't believe that Ikkaku had apologised, that he'd taken back his actions with that one meaningful word, and yet -. No. He could not believe it. It was most likely a goodbye, a sorry followed with a `but', followed with the words `I think we shouldn't be together anymore'. That had to be the kind of sorry it was, because what else could it be? Yumichika wasn't one of Squad Eleven, not really; he was the kido-type carrying, looks-obsessed `pretty boy' who despised the idea of losing his loved ones to the heat of battle. He didn't blame Ikkaku for leaving him, how could he? Ikkaku deserved better, surely? It was no wonder he was leaving Yumichika. He knew this would happen, he knew it! He knew it . . . and yet that didn't make it any easier.

 

“What are you sorry for, Ikkaku?” He replied in a broken voice.

 

“I'm sorry for hurting you.” When he spoke he locked eyes with Yumichika, refusing to drop his gaze for even a second, “I'm not a bloody mind-reader, you know? You always prance about so happy and cheerful, always by my side, it wasn't as if I knew I was hurting you. If I'd have known I would have done something about it.” He sighed but a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, “It's not like we'd be holding hands in public or I'd be declaring my undying love, I'm not really all for that mushy stuff, especially in front of people . . . but if you wanted affection, I could have gave you that, but in private of course.”

 

“You're using past tense, Ikkaku.” Yumichika said coldly.

 

It may have been a very small thing to most people, but not to Yumichika. The words were all set in the past, based in events that had already occurred, with little there to indicate present ideas or emotions, none at all to indicate the future. It was as if that was all Ikkaku saw them as, a relic of the past to be forgotten and maybe even buried, something that wasn't worth saving or renewing, a thing of a bygone era. It hurt him; it hurt him beyond words that his lover could think that! They'd spent a lifetime together, their relationship was so close and special that he'd assumed it'd last forever, and yet here he was hearing that - despite everything - Ikkaku considered it past, something that no longer held meaning or purpose, something dead in the water. He felt something inside him break, a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words, because it was something beyond words, something inside him that felt as if his world was crumbling, as if his entire soul was being consumed by a dark void. His breath seemed to stop, his pulse seem to freeze, and he felt overwhelmed by all the emotions he was experiencing, no longer terrified of losing Ikkaku because he had already lost him, already lost the most precious person alive to him. It hurt, it ached, it was a pain that seemed almost painless, something so acute it swallowed all emotions and thoughts with it, leaving him just an empty shell. It was all he could do just to remain cool and collected, to keep his mask an expressionless face, because if he let that mask slip for even a second he'd appear to be the broken man that he was, and he couldn't allow that, he couldn't, because right now all he had left was that dignity, and even that was fragile.

 

“Of course I'm using past tense!” Ikkaku snapped.

 

Sometimes his lover really annoyed him, it was often like talking to a brick wall, but at least a brick wall offered you some support! Seriously, there were times when he'd stumble with his words, trying to express something he just wasn't smart enough to express, when Yumichika would get all ratty and pre-menstrual with him, like some crazy woman, and make things ten times harder than they needed to be. It just seemed like today was one of those times. He'd obviously said something wrong and - instead of being calm and asking him to speak sense - Yumi was just getting worked up and obviously sulking! It was like walking on eggshells all the time, and yes he knew he probably should have been more sensitive and supportive considering how upset Yumi was, but it was damn well hard when the guy was just jumping to silly conclusions! Ikkaku wasn't all too bright at some things, he'd willingly admit to being better at physical activities than those things involving academic pursuits, but he knew what Yumi was thinking, probably something like `oh, woe is me! He's using past tense so that must mean it's all over!' Really, did Yumi had to over-think everything? It'd be nice if one day he could just trust him, but until then it seemed like Ikkaku was going to have to spell things out using very small words.

 

“I'm using past tense because I don't plan on being that way anymore,” He snapped, ironically sulking himself as he pouted in a very Yumi-like way, “I love you Yumi, sometimes I wonder why, but I do. If you want me to be sweeter and all that then I will, but you're going to have to start telling me these things, because unless you tell me I'll never know. I promise I won't be so unaffectionate from now on, at least not behind closed doors. I ain't going to be all lovey-dovey with you in public. Tch!”

 

Yumichika gave a brilliant smile at that. It was one Ikkaku rarely seen, one he usually possessed after an intense battle that led to victory, or in the afterglow of some very good sex. It was a smile that brightened his entire face, adding colour to his cheeks and making his eyes seem all the more intense, lively and passionate, the kind of smile that makes you want to smile in response, a contagious expression, one that spread joy as well as expressing it. It was weird to think that he could affect Yumi in such a way, changing and shaping his emotions with a few words, but then again Yumi loved him so much, so unconditionally, it was like his entire purpose for living depended upon Ikkaku and his love, so in that respect it made sense for Ikkaku's words to have such meaning to him, and yet -? It was strange, like a responsibility in itself. He didn't like knowing that someone else depended on him in such a way, that he was responsible for someone else's emotional state, because that meant with an ill placed phrase he could reduce Yumi to a state of depression or upset, and he didn't like that idea, not at all.

 

“I really am sorry, Yumichika. I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“I know,” Yumi beamed brightly, “You've always been so kind to me. When we were forced to stay at Keigo's you always let me have the bed, I never once had to sleep on the floor. There are not many people who'd be willing to risk their lives for me in battle either, or trust me enough to style their hair - or lack thereof - with a wig. You've always loved me, I know that, it's just how you express it that I objected to, always putting the thrill of the battle first . . . You have no idea how happy you've made me just by being willing to be so much more warm around me, even if it is only in private! Thank you, Ikkaku.”

 

 

 

“How can you forgive me so easily?”

 

Yumichika gave a soft little laugh and beamed brightly at his lover, “Because I love you of course. I'm just relieved you don't want to leave me! It's hard to be sad when the person you love still loves you in return.”

 

“I really do love you,” Ikkaku said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

 

“I know, and I love you too.”

 

It seemed to Ikkaku that an almost awkward moment passed between them. Yumichika just seemed so happy, so much in love, like the whole world was back on track to the path of goodness, and all because Ikkaku had made him a promise, all because Ikkaku had said a few simple words . . . It was weird to him to think he could affect his lover in such a way, but even stranger to think of the promise he'd made. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to keep his promise, but more he wasn't entirely sure what it entailed. He wasn't a romantic kind of guy, and he'd never really had much intentions of being so, frankly he'd never understood the whole lovey-dovey side of relationships, because - surely - after all, wasn't it obvious that you loved someone by how you told them or held them? What did anything else mean? Hell, candlelit dinners seemed a waste of money when they could grab a bite at the local izakaya, and what did cuddling mean when sex was so much more enjoyable?

 

He didn't get it. What the heck did Yumichika want from him anyways? What did affection or romance mean in the scheme of things? It just wasn't something he could comprehend, it was just too hard to make sense of, and what made it worse was that it seemed so important to Yumi! If he didn't get it right, then what would happen? Would Yumi leave him, or go back to dreaming about other guys? It was enough to make him feel almost like less of a man, after all he'd never heard any of the guys having this kind of problem, they all seemed to do great, and he'd be damned if he asked them about this, no way, they'd laugh their heads off! Stupid idiots.

 

Then again that wasn't the only problem. Did - did Yumichika expect him to start being affectionate now? He wasn't really sure how to be romantic at the best of times, but after a couple bottles of sake in the middle of Squad Three gardens, during the day too when he was sure he was meant to be working . . . Ikkaku just wasn't sure how to make that work. Then again . . . romance and affection didn't have to mean the same thing, right? Maybe he could be all sweet, despite where they were, all that involved would be holding hands or hugging or whispering sweet nothings, right? Oh God, all those things made him internally wince, it was just so - so - so wimpy! It was the kind of thing he expected Squad Four guys to get up too, like dancing through flower fields or making daisy chains, or whatever those weirdoes did, and even if no one would ever know he'd been all lovey-dovey it still felt like he'd be putting a nail in the coffin of his masculinity. Man, if he had to start being all hand-holding then he'd never be able to look himself in the mirror again, even his reflection would laugh at him! Still, that's what Yumi wanted right? To feel loved? He could make sacrifices, yeah, he could do this, he knew he could, he hoped . . .

 

Luckily his dilemma of what to do was taken from his hands by Yumi, who thankfully had decided to take the first step. It was strange for him to have his lover make the first move, and even stranger considering he thought Yumi wanted affection and not something sexual, but when he thought about it long enough perhaps sex could be gentle, romantic and affectionate? Is that what Yumi wanted? Not anything new or special as such, but simply just to occasionally adapt the things they already did so he felt loved, being gentler with his gestures and slower with his movements? Was that what this thing called `affection' was, simply showing the person you loved them no matter what it was you happened to be doing? Simply being there, loving them, showing them that you loved them? If that was all it was then he could do that. He loved Yumichika, if all it meant was expressing that love occasionally then he could do it, he could, because there was nothing easier in the world than loving Yumichika.

 

“I love you, Ikkaku.” Yumichika whispered.

 

There was a slight rustling of fabric as Yumichika slid gracefully across the dew-damp grass, his body lithe and seemingly almost weightless as he appeared to glide across the short distance to be by Ikkaku's side. The moment he was in reach he raised his hand to Ikkaku's cheek and allowed his fingers to trace of his firm skin, his fingertips gradually coming down to stroke over his jawbone before gently lying upon Ikkaku's full, plump lips. The touch was barely there, soft and sensuous, something teasing and loving, a touch that served merely to demonstrate feeling, emotion, a touch that wasn't designed to lead to anything more but merely to act on itself, representing emotions too deep to be expressed with words alone.

 

His fingertips seemed to linger for a long moment before falling away, to be replaced with a soft and chaste kiss from Yumi's rich, full lips. There was a bubble of excitement from deep inside Ikkaku as he felt his lover's mouth pressed close against his own, their lips parting for a brief second so as to allow for a quick taste of one another, marking it as more than platonic, allowing them to express their deep feelings of love and affection through that one gesture alone. When Yumi pulled away he was panting slightly, just slightly, enough to show how much that small and innocent kiss had meant to him. There was a faint, crimson scattering across his cheeks and his eyes and mouth lit up brightly into a large smile, marking him with an expression of sheer happiness and warmth. It was an infectious look, making Ikkaku smile in response, making his heart swell and his body feel nothing but an overall sense of joy and contentment. He loved Yumi, he loved him so much, just that one chaste kiss had his blood boiling and his tongue gently coming out to lick at his lips, to find what little traces of Yumi were left on his skin. This was the man whom he adored and cared for, and even if the kiss was small and innocent he loved it nonetheless, and he loved it because it had came from Yumi, the man he loved more than anything, even the heat of battle.

 

Still smiling, Ikkaku gently wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, letting his arms rest lightly upon the thin, finely shaped midsection. His hold was so gentle it was as if he was holding onto something precious, as if he were cradling a fine porcelain doll, something fragile and breakable, something that needed nothing but love in order to thrive. Then with a careful, gentle lift he brought Yumichika up from the patch of grass beside him to instead sit upon his lap, smiling when he heard Yumi let out a surprised gasp.

 

He felt Yumi instinctively throw his arms around his neck, holding firmly as if scared that otherwise Ikkaku might drop him or allow him to fall, but there was no way Ikkaku would ever let go, not now, not when they'd grown so close and he had something to prove, not when he needed his lover to know how much he loved him, just how special he was to him. It was so comfortable too, having the feeling of Yumi's weight settle nicely upon his lap, feeling his legs either side of him and gripping firmly as if to reassure himself that Ikkaku was really there beneath him, and how his hands would gently fidget behind his neck, tickling him just ever so slightly as Yumi's face inched ever closer. He could feel Yumi's breath gently blowing over his lips, the warmth and moist heat making him almost ache in expectation, just knowing that they were showing the same air, breathing the same space of oxygen, somehow seeming so intimate and close, as if they somehow depended on each other for life itself. It was all so personal, so perfect, having his lover not only in his arms but on his lap also, their bodies almost moulded to one another as they basked in their private moment, relishing in the sheer intimacy of it all, as if the world in itself couldn't reach them, as if they existed only in their own private world. It was strange but they weren't even doing anything, at least nothing sexual, and yet it seemed to right, so prefect, so wonderful. How'd Yumi do it? How'd he weave a spell over Ikkaku and make him feel this way? The guy was definitely a demon in disguise.

 

“Thank you,” Yumichika whispered as if to no one.

 

“What for?”

 

“For this, for just being you, for finally showing me some warmth without expecting anything in return,” He placed a small kiss upon the corner of Ikkaku's mouth and pulled back with a radiant smile, “Would it be too much if I asked for . . . well . . . more . . .?”

 

“I thought you just wanted romance and warmth?”

 

Yumichika beamed brightly and leant into the crook of Ikkaku's neck, his fingers playing lightly with themselves at the base of his lover's head. He nuzzled lightly, his nose inhaling his lover's rich scent as he placed his cheek softly upon Ikkaku's shoulder, simply allowing himself a moment to breathe in his lover, to rest against him lightly, enjoying their rare moment of closeness and privacy. It was a heart-warming moment for him, one that meant the world, one that made him glow from within, realising that he was with the man he loved and no one else. It was a precious moment, one special and spectacular, one he'd trade for no other.

 

“I want you, Ikkaku,” He said sincerely, “I want the love, the affection, the gentleness . . . but above all else I want you. You also forget that I am a member of Squad Eleven I have the same masculine desires as the rest of you, and I demand that you satisfy them, Ikkaku, albeit in a rather gentle way. I want you to make love to me. I want to feel loved; I want to love you back. Please, Ikkaku?”

 

“Damn it, Yumi. How'd you do this to me?”

 

In a soft yet firm gesture he reached up and took a hold of Yumi's chin, lifting him so that he was now looking his lover deeply in the eyes, their faces but an inch from one another as they shared in one deep moment in time. Everything seemed to move so slowly, as if each second bled into the next and yet somehow stayed still at the same time, the anticipation for what was to come making the action seem slower, calmer, although far more intense. Then Yumichika's lips were finally upon his, touching him firmly and slowly, massaging his own with a familiar passion, tasting him and marking him as his, leading slowly onto the events to come.

 

He loved how Yumi's firm chest pressed against his as he instinctively sought to deepen the kiss, the sound their lips made when locked together, and how his lover licked upon his bottom lip as if to hint at things to come, nipping occasionally with his teeth to draw out an insane mixture of pleasure and pain. It drove him mad feeling the man he loved sitting upon him, kissing him with great ferocity but at a soft, gentle pace that seemed to go on forever, and he couldn't help but allow his hands to explore, searching every inch of Yumi as the kiss began to grow with more passion. His right hand rested upon a supple thigh, massaging it lightly and carefully, feeling it as it flexed occasionally beneath him in pleasure, and his left hand trailed paths up and down his lover's back, working out his kosode from his hakama, before working its way inside, and allowing itself to touch at the naked, smooth, flawless flesh of Yumi's back. It was then that Yumi gasped at the touch and opened his mouth wide, allowing Ikkaku to deepen the kiss and take advantage of his lover's moment of weakness. He slid his tongue deep into Yumi's mouth, relishing the delicious taste of his lover and coaxing the hot muscle inside to life, exploring every inch of that perfect mouth, almost consuming it in his desire for more, in his desire to express his love to Yumi in one of the few ways he knew how. He loved kissing Yumi, he always had. He loved the way it always felt so warm, so intimate, how with each kiss his blood would seem to set alight and how his groin would seem to harden, waiting in anticipation for more to come, and always he loved simply being so close to his lover, just holding him in his arms, just loving him in such a simple and gentle way.

 

He was so involved with the kiss, relishing the private moment between them, the joining of their bodies as they expressed their love wordlessly to one another, that he failed to notice Yumi's hands trailing over his chest, exploring his clothed skin feverishly. His hands had at some point slid away from Ikkaku's neck, forcing their way between their two bodies, moving of their own accord as if with a consciousness of their own, fingertips pressing firmly but smoothing, hard but gently, tracing Ikkaku's abs as if for the first time. They seemed to slide lower and lower, but with Yumichika's teeth nibbling upon his lip he could barely notice, all he could feel was those plump, ripe, softened lips pulling at his own as his tongue was teased with a delicious, rich taste that belonged only to his lover. The kiss was so intense, too intense, already he found himself losing moments of time, losing himself completely so that minutes seemed to pass like seconds, and his length seemed to harden beneath him so that each time Yumi shifted his weight, moved even slightly, that he'd find himself groaning into the kiss, feeling the pleasure of his lover grinding down onto him from above.

 

It was hard to think that he - Ikkaku, Third Seat of Squad Eleven - could be so engrossed in just a kiss, that his entire body could feel alight with arousal and pleasure, just from one kiss! Sure it was good, sure it was freaking fantastic, but it wasn't as if he was getting a strip show from his lover, or a good blow, or even that they were at the sex part yet - it was just a kiss! It made him feel less manly, kind of girly, but in his defence Yumi was one hell of a kisser, and in fact he was god damned amazing! The things that guy could do with his mouth should have been illegal!

 

He hadn't even noticed when Yumi's hands had came down to his groin area, tugging at his sash with expert technique before pulling it away slowly . . . Well, it'd be a lie to say he hadn't noticed at all, a part of him wanted his lover to tie his hands around the tree, or maybe improvise somehow by turning it into some sort of kinky toy, but that wasn't what Yumi wanted, was it? Yumichika wanted love, affection, tenderness, the sorts of things that came from loving caresses, gentle holds, intimate gestures, the sorts of things one couldn't get from a quick lay or love games. All he wanted was to make Yumi happy, to see his bright smile return, to see him brimming with joy the way he did after an excellent fight, and if that meant keeping things simply then he was willing to that - he was willing to that for Yumi. So he merely smiled as the sash was dropped carefully beside them, this time not flung to some far corner or lost in the heat of passion. He knew their kiss had became sloppy, mostly clashing teeth and perhaps a little too wet, but he couldn't stop smiling despite himself, it was a pretty romantic moment in his opinion, a soft and tender moment under the trees in a blossoming garden. He'd never admit to liking it, but it was pretty amazing in its own right, something special to be cherished, something to be treasured, and something that was just his and Yumi's and no one else's.

 

Suddenly he felt his length encased in a warm fist, forcing him to cry out loudly in pleasure. It was so abrupt, so sudden, that he had no other choice but to break the kiss as he threw back his head, hitting it harshly onto the bark of the tree but leaving him unable to care. All he could care about was how Yumi had somehow worked his member free from his fundoshi, and was currently stroking it with such long, languid strokes that its skill would no doubt make a master whore jealous. He was pumping Ikkaku in a slow but continuous rhythm, twisting on each up-stroke so that it'd cause him to gasp and buck, moaning even more as an occasional thumb would stroke his slit, smearing pre-come over his head. It was like electric, all he could feel was fire spreading through his every nerve, pleasure unlike any other, and it felt so good! He was panting already, gasping for air, and he knew that although he could go for a lot longer that it'd be easy for Yumi to finish him like this, the guy just had so much skill, so much talent! It was so goddamned good! He was even nibbling his neck, teasing him with that mouth of his, and all Ikkaku knew what that he couldn't take this for much longer, he really couldn't.

 

Ikkaku released one of his hands from underneath Yumi's kosode and reached up to his lover's head, gently entwining his fingers through those velvety soft locks, before pulling him upwards for another mind-blowing kiss. He worked his other hand between them, easing it downwards to pull loose Yumi's own sash, letting his hakama drop to his knees, unable to move any further from his sitting position upon Ikkaku. A faint blush dusted his lover's cheeks, staining his porcelain skin crimson as the crisp air brushed past them, cooling them slightly but mostly serving only to remind them of where they were. It seemed Yumichika had - again - foregone his fundoshi, and instead stood erect and half-naked, squatting above Ikkaku in arousal, ready to begin in their lovemaking. Ikkaku only hoped no one decided to visit the gardens today, granted they were hidden from casual sight by the plant life, but should anyone actually walk through or inside the gardens themselves . . .

 

“I-Ikkaku! We should stop, we could get caught again and Captain would -.”

 

“Captain can only punish us if we get caught,” Ikkaku mumbled, trailing soft kisses along his lover's jaw, “So we just have to make sure we don't get caught.”

 

“I don't think that -. Oh God!”

 

Ikkaku smirked as his lover's mouth opened into a wide `O' shape as he took his hand and began to pump his length, his movements matching Yumi's perfectly. Each time his lover would falter he would falter, each time his lover's pace would quicken his own pace would quicken alongside it. It was like a maddening game, one that neither could win nor lose, each man losing himself in the heat of love and lust, moving in time with one another as their slow pace seemed to grow more frantic, mimicking the desire they felt inside themselves. It was almost too much for Ikkaku to bear, too hard to hold onto his sanity, it was just too good, too perfect, and too wonderful! He wanted more; he wanted to hold Yumi close enough to hear his heart beat, he wanted to feel the other man sheathing him and gripping him tight, he wanted to hear his love call out loudly as they proclaimed their love to the world. He wanted so much, so much that he didn't dare ask for it, but at the same time he needed it, he needed it soon before it became too much, before he exploded from sheer desire.

 

“Turn around, Yumi.” He whispered.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Turn around. There's no way I can take you how you're sitting, the hakama is in the way, if you want to do this you have to face the other way.”

 

His heart was beating so fast he could hear it pound inside his ears, his pulse racing. He wanted so much to continue kissing Yumi but the position would make it impossible, separating their mouths from consummating their love, but at the same time it needed to be done if they wanted to truly consummate their love, if they truly wanted to be joined together as one.

 

He swallowed hard as Yumichika spun around above him, watching his lover move with such dexterity and grace that just wasn't normal for a member of their squad. He truly looked like an angel, something surreal and elegant, and something that just wasn't made for a guy like Ikkaku. Yumi was a blessing, a beautiful man with strength, talent, grace and looks, and it was impossible to do anything but worship him, at least not when his lover's firm, ripe and round buttocks were now pressed right against his aching cock, teasing it with their warmth and perfection. There was a sense of loss as Ikkaku was still fully clothes, save for his bared erection, and as for Yumi his chest was bare as was his thighs, but he still had on his uniform, no matter how far it had fallen . . . Ikkaku craved to run his hands over naked flesh, to explore every inch of his lover's skin, but he knew it was too risky to remove all their clothing here, and besides, this was more than lust, it was about re-establishing their relationship, it was about love, it was simply about coming together as one.

 

“I love you, Yumi.”

 

He allowed his right hand to snake along his lover's abdomen, before pulling upon him so that Yumichika lay flat against his chest, allowing him to nuzzle his head in the crook of Yumi's neck, inhaling deeply to smell the rich aroma of the man he adored. His lips worked slowly at kissing, nipping and playing with the column of neck before him, and moving his rough fingertips upwards to play and tease with a budding nipple of Yumichika.

 

The violet-haired man at once let out a shrill moan, throwing his head back so as to allow Ikkaku more space to lick and kiss, marking him with small love-bites as Yumi writhed above him, as if trying to escape those pleasure-inducing fingers, as if it was too much to bear. He adored the expressions that Yumi appeared to be making, his eyes tightly shut as his beautiful mouth parted just slightly to allow gasped breaths to be released, and his hands seemed to grope at any surface as if unsure what to grab from his position. Eventually he took to gripping tightly on Ikkaku's thighs, whilst he continued to grind and writhe from above, arching his back so that Ikkaku found himself virtually hugging his lover just to reach those nubs that caused Yumi such pleasure. He hated to admit it, but it was actually nice to be able to hug him in such a way too, and so it was only natural when he wrapped his left arm tightly around Yumi's waist, his hand stroking lightly at his right hipbone, whilst he whispered over and over to Yumi what he hoped were `sweet nothings', because he'd be damned if he'd be saying them again in a hurry.

 

It was almost unbearable though! Yumi's bare buttocks were flush against his member, in fact his length had shifted right in between his lover's rounded globes, encased by that tight crevice, being massaged by Yumi as he instinctively clenched and unclenched in pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to slide inside his lover, to feel his heat around him, to feel the pressure encompassing him as he thrust rhythmically inside, but he doubted it'd be possible, at least not yet, not now. He hadn't expected things to turn out like this, for making love to be a possibility, and so they hadn't any lubrication on hand, and even if they made do with saliva they were supposed to be on duty, it would be suspicious if they both had the next hour off and one came back with a limp . . . Damn it! They'd just have to make do with things as they were, but still it was pretty damned hot and it felt really good, and besides this was about making love not a hard and fast fuck. If this is what it came down to then he'd deal with it, and he'd deal with it because he loved Yumi, he loved him and wanted to show him that, and what a better way than by making him feel good without demanding anything else in return?

 

He trailed his right hand down to Yumi's length, using his left to keep his lover pressed flush against him as he continued to nibble at his neck, and quickly he grabbed a hold onto his length and began to pump slowly . . .

 

Yumichika gasped loudly and bucked, pulling upon Ikkaku's cock in the process as his buttocks clenched and moved up with him, and so Ikkaku thrust upwards to follow his lover's movements. Each time his lover moved he made sure to move with him, thrusting against his lover's buttocks without actually penetrating him, but still receiving such pleasure his mind reeled and begged for more.

 

His whole body seemed alight with satisfaction, his every muscle flexing and tensing in each movement, his every nerve tingling with bliss as he moved in a moderate pace with the man he loved, his hand stroking him faster and faster. He relished how Yumichika was now panting and moaning continuously, losing his breath each time he thrust downwards as if he was being pounded rather that thrust against. It was perfect and so arousing; each sound he made seemed to be the most erotic sound he'd ever heard, a sound bordering on pain and pleasure and mingling with the natural sounds of the gardens around them. Their pace had seemed to pick up, moving faster with each passing moment, and Ikkaku found himself choking on air itself as a thin veil of sweat coated his body, the heat made worse by how his lover's own hot and sweaty body was pressed firm against his chest. He didn't care though, he couldn't, all he could care about was how goddamned brilliant he felt, his own cock aching in ecstasy as it pulsed between his lover's buttocks, his lover's member weeping pre-come and feeling hot and heavy in his hand.

 

He knew he wouldn't last much longer, but it all felt so good, it'd all moved so slowly and with such passion, how much time had really passed? How long had it been since they'd kissed so heavily, with such love? How long had his hands roamed Yumi's body? How long since he'd begun to make love in such an innocent way? It didn't seem to matter. It could have been minutes or hours, it just felt so good and he couldn't possibly ask for more, it was too good, too great!

 

Suddenly he could feel a familiar boiling deep inside his abdomen, a clenching and tensing of muscles as his mind seemed to sift away into distraction and pleasure, his sight waning as his pulse seemed to beat like a drum in his ears. His member seemed to throb and ache, twitching with a life of its own as it thrust against the hot skin of Yumi, and the heavenly feeling seemed to be reaching its peak where every part of his body felt ready to explode, to collapse in on itself, to take him to the heights of nirvana and beyond. It was then he heard Yumi called out loudly to the sky, his voice letting out a wrenching cry, before Ikkaku's hand seemed to become coated in a warm, sticky, familiar mess. His lover turned his head, his face flushed crimson and lips parted, swollen and red, before kissing as much of Ikkaku's lips as he could reach, murmuring a silent `I love you' which tipped Ikkaku over the edge and beyond.

 

It was all too much, too intense, too good! He barely had time to compose himself before an explosion occurred from his length, hot ropes of come forcing forward to coat his lover's buttocks and lower back, with some of the silvery substance trickling down to stain Ikkaku's fundoshi and hakama. His whole body seemed at once to melt, every ounce of tension leaving him in that one instance to be replaced with ecstasy that no other living person could possibly know. Fuck! It felt so great, so perfect! What more could he want, what more could anyone ever want? He could feel his shaft softening, feel Yumichika like a dead weight upon him, and feel the radiant rays of the sun coming down to warm them both as they lay panting for breath, enjoying the moment that had passed between them. He loved moments like these, basking in the afterglow of good sex, holding Yumi in his arms; they just seemed all too perfect.

 

“My Ikkaku,” Yumichika gasped, a bead of sweat pouring down his temple, “I didn't realise you could be so affectionate and gentle.”

 

He grunted in response, too exhausted to make any committed reply, too much enjoying the pleasure of what had came before to even bother trying. It was a perfect moment, why ruin it with words or arguments or conversation? Why not just let it stay pure, innocent, loving and a symbol of everything they wanted their relationship to be? Why not just enjoy it for what it was?

 

“Yeah, me either.” He murmured back.

 

“I enjoyed it. I love you so much, it was nice to feel loved too, but . . .”

 

Slightly suspicious Ikkaku sighed and cricked his neck, “But what?”

 

“But it was far too affectionate! It was nice and all but I think I'd prefer such things to stay as dreams; I do much prefer a good solid, hard bout of sex to tender lovemaking any day! After all, it's so much more satisfying when you talk dirty to when you whisper sweet nothings . . . Don't you agree?”

 

Ikkaku said nothing, but - quite frankly - the moment he regained his energy he'd be kicking Yumichika's ass from here all the way to Squad Eleven barracks . . . He knew his lover could be fickle, but to go on and on about `affection' only to decide `actually, I'd rather have a good fuck' was just unreal! How was a guy supposed to know where he stood when his lover kept changing the rules on him? It just wasn't fair! This was exactly why he preferred fights and battles, all the adrenaline rush but less of the drama, much easier to understand in his opinion. Stupid Yumichika . . .

 

“You're lucky I love you,” Ikkaku mumbled, “Because right now I really want to kill you. If I had my strength I'd so kick your ass.”

 

“Oh, don't say such ugly things! You know you don't mean them.”

 

Ikkaku smiled, “Yeah, you're right. I'll just tell Captain that you snuck out of guard duty to come service me, that way I get to watch him kick your ass instead.”

 

“You wouldn't!”

 

The look on Yumichika's face was truly priceless, a mixture of terror and horror and sheer shock, something that was rarely ever seen on the gorgeous man, and something that made Ikkaku suddenly feel a hell of a lot better. After all, affection may be sweet . . . but revenge was so much sweeter . . .