Author's Note: I started writing this about four or five weeks ago, and have since had major writer's block with the last chapter. I finally squeaked it out, however, so now I'm overjoyed to be posting this! Shunsui and Nanao are my Bleach OTP, so writing this was tons of fun. I'm not quite sure myself, but I'd like to think the timeframe is before the Aizen arc. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of its respective characters, settings, etc. If I did, there'd be a lot more hot smex goin' on in Eighth Division right about now.

Chapter One:
The Settting Stakes

Shunsui Kyouraku lay in his favorite position: sprawled out on the floor, haori a pink puddle around him, his hat angled just so as to protect his eyes from the sun that bathed him. It was spring, and he purposefully left the doors ajar to allow the soft pink cherry blossoms to float in. It was his favorite decoration for two reasons: it looked beautiful and, unlike trees or wreathes, it set itself up. He could just lie back and watch the season coat the room lazily. He figured that he and spring had quite a bit in common.

As it were, the floor of the room was a cedar lake swimming with frail pinkened petals. The warm sun leaked in, seeping a fantastically languorous atmosphere into the very walls. Everything was thick with the aroma of dew, pollen and a hint of sake. He was almost completely at ease, and could feel his mind slipping happily closer to the realm of sleep. Just a few more seconds… Almost there…

"Captain!" a curt voice called to him, slicing through the pleasantly dusty air. Shunsui barely kept himself from cringing.

"Nanao-chan," he drawled, slightly offset. "You're ruining the moment."

She sighed in exasperation, a noise that completely drowned out the songbirds' crooning. "I will ruin more than that if you do not do your paperwork."

This time he did cringe. Raising a hand – heavy with the unrealized anticipation of a good nap – he cocked his hat up an inch or two to see her. She stood out among the background: her hair was flawlessly set, not a strand out of place, and her glasses defied the natural beauty the petals had created.

Shunsui sighed. "My lovely Nanao-chan, can't you see that it's naptime? I will do it later."

He noticed her eyebrow twitch, and for a moment feared for his physical well-being. "Captain Kyouraku, you know the agreement."

His face fell as he recalled the memory that spring's splendor had temporarily erased: she had told him the previous night, whilst he was in a drunken stupor, that she'd hide all his sake until he finished his duties. Of course there was always his emergency reserve, but something told him that efficient, perfect Nanao-chan already knew where it was and had secured it with a deadbolt.

He heaved another sigh, this time in defeat. "Very well."

He supposed that if Nanao were used to smiling, she would have then. Instead she went to the closet, got a broom and began sweeping all the flower petals out the door. He would have been a little annoyed if he didn't already know that she was fighting a losing battle – the cherry blossoms would float in until the end of spring, which was considerably far away. He absentmindedly wondered how Rangiku could enjoy spring, what with being cooped up with Captain Hitsugaya, who literally reeked of winter's essence.

Noticing the glare Nanao was shooting him from the beneath her short eyelashes, he brushed away the errant thoughts. Heaving himself up, he ambled to his desk with feet heavy as lead, and with fingers that twitched and shrieked at the thought of scribbling his signature a hundred times over.

The signing of documents was painstakingly (yet unsurprisingly) slow-going. He so rarely subjected himself to the torture (Nanao took care of most of it while he was napping or out drinking with Rangiku) but when he did, it was always the same chore. He would read the first two or three leaflets with intense concentration and then write off the rest with little regard. He knew exactly what all of them said, and the gist of it was: "Hello, the Office of Forty-Six intends to do this, so please sign the dotted line. If you have any complaints or objections, please list them here, though we will most likely ignore them and do whatever the hell we want anyway."

Due to that timeworn formula, for the last seventy or so pages he had been absent-mindedly dipping the brush into the pot and writing his initials, all the while training his eyes on Nanao and (more precisely) her bottom. He watched her go about the room with the broom, sweeping out petal after petal, never stopping until the floor was spotless. With her anal-retentiveness, he knew she could be at it for hours; every time she cleared the last petal out, one more drifted in. It was a repetitive cycle that was clearly driving her a little mad, but she still would not close the door. His lips curled into a grin.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked, looking up from the broom's bristles. "Paperwork is never fun when I do it."

"Oh, my perfect Nanao-chan," he purred, dragging the brush across the paper just as he dragged the words across his tongue. "You're so considerate."

To that, she gave him an odd look. "Are you even looking at the documents?" she asked as the broom's straws scratched against the floorboards.

Shunsui chuckled. "Of course, Nanao-chan! You know how seriously I take my work."

Nanao rolled her eyes, reflexively pushing her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. He had trouble stifling an entertained snicker, knowing that pushing up her glasses meant she was both irate and amused. He wondered if she knew that he could read her as easily as she could read that big mysterious book of hers.

"Captain!" came her voice, clipped and a little alarmed. Her shielded eyes stared at his hands. Curious, he looked down to see that he had in fact finished with the papers, and had just signed his name in deep black ink all over the antique desk.

"Oh dear," he muttered as the ink spread sluggishly into the small crevices in the mahogany. Propping the broom against the wall, Nanao rushed over and plucked a handkerchief from her bosom, quickly tidying up his mess. He blinked, wondering what else she kept in there.

"Honestly," she scolded, "I think you're more mindful when you're drunk."

He watched as the ivory cloth wiped away the last of his wandering thoughts and smiled. "Speaking of which, may I have my sake now?"

He saw a vein pulse in her temple as she glanced outside. "It's not even four o'clock!"

Shunsui gasped dramatically. "Then I'm late! I should definitely be on my second bottle by now!"

Nanao tossed the handkerchief into the trash and straightened his haphazard pile of papers. "You could not go an entire day without it, could you?"

He shrugged. "My mind works better under the perversion of alcohol."

She nearly laughed. "You don't need alcohol to make you perverted."

He watched her resume sweeping and leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers rest their weary joints. "You belittle me, Nanao-chan. So cruel!"

She sighed. "My apologies, Captain."

He set his expression to a solemn one and slumped his shoulders theatrically. "Well, there is only one way to heal this ego you have so utterly decimated."

"And how is that?" Nanao asked, and he sometimes wondered why she bothered to humor him.

He gave her his best puppy dog stare. "A kiss, of course!"

If her eyes had held any sympathy, it had been swept away with the cherry blossoms, out the door, off the balcony, and carried by the wind to God knows where. Again, her sleek black eyebrow twitched and she leered. "Somehow I think you will survive."

Shunsui's lips fell quickly from an amorous pout to a dejected one, though he hadn't really expected her to say anything else. "Lovely Nanao-chan, you are the frigid winter to my warm spring."

Groaning, Nanao ignored him and continued sweeping. After a few moments of silence, a thought struck the captain. Leaping up from his chair, he grinned triumphantly. "Oh, I know another way you could repay me for your cruelty!"

"Not until six o'clock," she said flatly.

He shook his head. "No, no, of course not! Come drinking with Rangiku-chan and I tomorrow night."

She stopped her sweeping and gave him a blank stare. "You know I don't drink."

He shrugged and smiled. "There is a first time for everything, my winter beauty!"

She rolled her eyes, the motion partly obscured by the sunlight glinting menacingly off her glasses. "No thank you."

"Please," he pleaded, knowing that the sight of a drunken Nanao would be more precious than all of spring's cherry blossoms combined. "You need to loosen up."

"And you need to settle down!" she said frankly. Realizing the futility, she sighed. "How about a deal then?"

Shunsui bit back a smirk – with Nanao, a deal was one step away from a yes. "And what might that be, Nanao-chan?"

She stood stick straight, demonstrating the perfect posture he both loved and abhorred. "You must forgo sake for twenty-four hours."

His face fell. "What?"

She looked at him over the top of her glasses, which he knew meant she was feeling a bit playful. "If the sight of me drunk is so important to you, you being sober for one day seems like a fair trade, does it not?"

If he were not such a man, he would have whimpered. An entire day without his sweet, sweet sake? What was spring without it? Without the delicious bittersweet taste rolling across his tongue, what meaning would the cherry blossoms hold? It seemed like a waste of a perfectly lovely evening.

He looked at her then, about to concede defeat, and was enveloped in new resolve. She stood there, her hair a sleek, incarcerated affair. Her eyes were stern, staring through those black frames that demanded preciseness. Her lips were set in a firm line, far belying their true fullness. Her uniform was immaculately set without so much as an unintentional wrinkle to be found. Her shoulders were exceptionally squared, her feet too, and she stood there holding a broom that seemed flimsy and lopsided in comparison. Suddenly the sight of her stumbling about, hair cascading over her shoulders and into her eyes, lips split open in a drunken giggle, was soul-shatteringly irresistible.

"I accept," he said finally, pushing the dread of a sake-less night from his mind.

She blinked, bemused at first, and then nodded. "Very well."

Nanao resumed sweeping, and he could practically hear (over the grating of bristles) the cogs of her mind whirring. She was trying to think of a way to bargain herself out of being drunk, or perhaps a scheme to switch all his alcohol for something less potent.

He crossed the room, lay down on the sofa and pulled his hat over his eyes before smirking. Oh no, my little Nanao-chan, you'll not get away this time. For even though he knew she had the power and will to switch his secret stash for cleverly disguised water, there was no way she could possibly know about his secret, secret stash.