Title: Kitchen II

Pairing: Ichigo x Uryuu

Genre: PWP, angst

Rating: R (??) ... this rating thing still eludes me

Disclaimer: Nothing in Bleach belongs to me.

Summary: Events in Uryuu's kitchen. Told from Ichigo's point of view.

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I watched his delicate fingers cradle the tea cup. These were clever fingers that knew how to draw a spirit bow. I could never make it up to him - whatever he had lost.

What was I doing sitting in Ishida's kitchen? I just wanted to be there, I suppose. I thought I had royally screwed up. Standing outside his apartment, jabbering about god-knows-what. When he asked me in, I never felt more relieved.

He hadn't mentioned a single word about that incident since we came back from Soul Society. Not till Urahara, with his scientist's curiosity, probed about it. Even then, when Ishida described how he was forced to make his fatal choice in his fight against Mayuri, he sounded clinical and detached. Infuriatingly so.

He was that quiet about it, it was scary. Some part of me just wanted to get inside that head to know what he was thinking, how he felt, and how much flak was he enduring from his old man now.

Yet, he went on with everything like nothing happened. He still aced class tests, mended silly frilly things in his handicraft club and hung out with us, trading snide remarks with Tatsuki about me over lunch.

I just couldn't believe how losing your god-given powers didn't matter. It clearly should mean the world to Ishida. What with him always harping on and on about his Quincy pride. If it had been me, I would have died inside.

Perhaps he had.

These nights, on my hollow-cleansing rounds, I would wonder what he was doing with himself. When I channelled my spirit force into my zanpakutou, it weighed slightly more, like a burden, knowing I still had something he didn't.

I had never been into his apartment before. But it felt like Ishida. Even if I were sitting in there alone, I would have felt his presence. He kept his belongings in order. Maybe too much in order.

It soon started getting awkward in the small space with just both of us. There was so much else to say, but I didn't know how. Instead I busied my mouth with drinking the tea. He was pushing a towel around the already spotless table.

"I'm sorry," I managed finally. For what you lost.

He had gotten up and then went very still. Something flickered in his expression, like a crack inching across a glacier block. He mumbled something I couldn't catch and looked at his hand. Damn his Quincy pride for still trying to keep up appearances. I was thinking - if the idiot continued holding himself in, I would just go and shake him till he came to his senses.

Suddenly without a word, he was on his knees.

I'd never seen anyone break down like this before. Maybe myself - once a long time ago. And I remembered the crushing loneliness inside when it happened.

I couldn't do anything, except hold him.

xxx

Uryuu didn't let just anybody see him like this, I was sure. Without his glasses, the tears, the pain - this was his real face. I had pushed him to the limit and this was costing him. And damn, I wasn't going to let it go.

I remembered touching his cool skin, and how his pale face was golden from the late afternoon sun that came in the kitchen window. Some voice inside was saying, this is where you don't turn back. I kissed him on the mouth and realised how badly I had been wanting him, this fallen soldier. I wanted his lean body right there, and to be eventually back to back against mine in battle again.

We didn't fuck on the kitchen floor that day. But it didn't matter, he actually surprised me a little, telling me what he needed. What happened later was we were just mindlessly jerking each other off. Instead of wrong, it felt strangely right.

This wasn't just teenage hormones, like my stupid dad would put it down to. This was what I believed in - if I had it in me to give, I would.

x end x