AN:

All of these fics have already been posted on my LiveJournal as I wrote them, but it occurred to me that I could also post them here. Be aware, however, that only my non-explicit fics get posted here; if you want to have access to all my fics including the MA ones, then you need to go to my LJ.

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Title: Stupid, Quiet Pride
Author: Del March
Rating: PG
Genres: Hurt/Comfort, budding friendship
This story contains: a brief description of an infected wound
Characters: Hisagi Shuuhei, Ayasegawa Yumichika
Word count: 1183

Summary: Yumichika is being an idiot again and Shuuhei helps quietly.

A/N: This was written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge on LJ. The prompt was "infected wounds/septicemia".

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach nor its characters which all belong to Kubo Tite, and I am making no money from writing this fic.

Stupid, Quiet Pride

There was no need to look: the increase in sound volume was enough to signal the return of the scouting squads. The Eleventh Division's thugs were not the quiet type in the best of circumstances, and this opportunity to go tearing through the ruins of Las Noches as they cleared and secured room after room for the scientific and investigative squads only made them happier and thus louder.

"Three more rooms ready for inspection, Hisagi-fukutaichou."

Shuuhei frowned as he noticed the strain in Ayasegawa's voice, as well as the way the orange-cuffed hand shook ever so slightly as the fifth seat set an expanded map down on the corner of Shuuhei's borrowed desk. Pulling his gaze away from the papers he had found inside said desk, he took a good look at the other officer, who was slowly making his way back to his own men. The overly stiff back, the tremors which ran down his arms with every step, and the subtly uneven fluctuations to his reiatsu pattern confirmed Shuuhei's suspicions that something was off.

"Ayasegawa, one moment please." The lack of any sign of annoyance on the usually haughty face as the fifth seat slowly turned around was another unmistakable sign that he was not in his normal state. There was only wariness and tiredness in the purple eyes - and was that a touch of fever on the pale cheeks? "Follow me, please," ordered Shuuhei as he grabbed his pack and led the other man to a remote corner of the room, hidden behind a pile of debris.

"All right," he whispered once they were both safely out of sight, "what's going on?"

The show of pretense that Ayasegawa tried to put on was so pitiful that the fifth seat would probably have been disgusted with himself if he had been able to see it. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

Shuuhei decided to cut straight to what he suspected to be the heart of the matter. "Where are you hurt?"

"What makes you think-"

"Yumichika," Shuuhei called softly. The use of his first name silenced the other man. Shuuhei continued gently, "It's me. You can trust me, you know that." Ayasegawa blinked rapidly and looked away; he could not deny that simple truth. "So stop playing games and tell me what's going on, please."

The fifth seat stared him in the eyes for a moment before sighing in defeat and going to work on his hakama ties. Soon he had undone his shihakushou and he was wincing as he tried to slid the kosode and shitagi off his shoulders. Carefully, Shuuhei grabbed the garments and pulled them down. His breath caught when by so doing he unveiled an enormous bruise covering more than half the narrow back, with a very nasty-looking slash running from the left shoulder to right below the ribs. The sides were a raw red, large and inflamed, while a yellow pus with a greenish tinge and a pungent stench to it was seeping from the cut.

"When did you do that?" Shuuhei's own voice was shaking but his hands were sure enough as he started fishing for his emergency kit in his pack.

"Two days ago." Now that he had dropped the pretense, Ayasegawa looked and sounded absolutely exhausted. Shuuhei bit back the terse scolding he would have given to any one of his men who would act in such a stupid way; Ayasegawa was an Eleventh Divisioner, as Shuuhei knew perfectly well. He most probably had not wanted to look weak in front of his much bigger men, or to take the risk of delaying the investigation by asking to be sent back to base. And of course, he had obviously not had any opportunity to use his healing shikai. So instead of taking his frustration out on the hurt man, Shuuhei addressed a brief but virulent rant to whoever had decided that the scouting squads did not need on-site medical backup - and then he added a prayer of thanks for whichever spirit had inspired him to take that two-day crash course in emergency medicine that Unohana-taichou had offered in the wake of the Aizen Battle disaster.

"All right, look," Shuuhei explained as he carefully inspected the wound from all sides, "you know I'm no healer, but I do know the very basics. I can clean this up, but let's be clear." Shuuhei allowed his voice to grow sterner. "Whatever I can do will only be temporary. Once I'm done, I will gather some papers I'd like to send back to base, and I'll have you and a couple of your men take them there." Ayasegawa frowned, bit his lip and looked away. Shuuhei insisted, "These are important papers, I can't entrust them to anybody else, do you understand?" This time, Ayasegawa caught on, as his soft gasp and the wide-eyed way he stared at Shuuhei confirmed. "Good," Shuuhei finished - and then, as though it were nothing more than an after-thought, he added in a very off-hand manner, "Oh, and while you're there, you can get a real healer to take a look at this, why don't you?"

The small, hesitant, but genuine smile he received was all the thanks Shuuhei needed. Smiling back, he moved behind his patient and warned him, "You might want to grab something to bite on, because this is going to hurt." He waited until Ayasegawa had firmly lodged the hilt of his zanpakutou between his teeth, and then quickly went to work, using the disinfecting lotions from his pack to clean the wound, and then the healing kidou techniques to close it. Many times did he feel and see the muscles in the narrow back under his fingers clench and shake, and he could hear his patient's breathing grow frantic and harsh, but never did Ayasegawa pull away, let a single moan out or allow his reiatsu to flare out. Shuuhei smiled to himself as he applied a layer of protective bandages over the hurt back and shoulder; the fifth seat had his many faults, but one thing he could not be accused of being was a coward.

Eventually Shuuhei was done and he was helping a trembling Ayasegawa slip his uniform back on. And then, giving in to some weird instinct he did not care to investigate, he wrapped his arms around his patient and pulled him close. Predictably enough, the fifth seat first gasped and went rigid in shock - before silently relenting. Without a word, he shuffled closer until they were flush against each other, laid his head on Shuuhei's shoulder and snaked his arms around Shuuhei's waist. Gradually, as Shuuhei softly stroked his hair, his breathing slowed down and his body stopped shivering; Shuuhei could almost feel the tension ebbing away from him even as his reiatsu regained a much more normal pattern.

When he pulled away, there was a new sparkle in his large, tired eyes, and a very shy smile on his lips. "Thank you... Shuuhei." Then a determined frown creased his brow as he asked, "So, about those important papers you mentioned...?"

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