All The Fish
Title: All The Fish
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13 for one word
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Warnings: None
Summary: Love was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A really big needle. So big, that you didn't even realise it was there.
He never let his lack of knowledge hold him back.
That was what Toshiro liked about Ichigo.
People tended to avoid academic conversations with a prodigy; partly this was Toshiro's fault (disregarding his status as the embodiment of the social wallflower), as he found that it was trying to found someone intellectually stimulating who shared his metaphoric cup of tea. Mindless chatter was more his fukutaicho's forte (not that she was dim by any means); he'd rather touch upon the philosophical side. But the majority of his lonesome debates were due to the fact that being clever had the immediate connotation of being a self-centered prick, and nobody wanted to spend time with one of those.
He'd found it profoundly commonplace for people to be frightened off by his ability to know everything (something that was completely impossible in itself), but for the most part this had never bothered Toshiro. Over the years he had learned to live with tucking himself away in the corner of a party with a drink and his paperwork, yet around about the same time he settled down as a homosexual, it came to light that the particular species of wallflower he was considered to be didn't grow in pairs.
Being the anti-social man that he was, this was a problem.
(No, he wouldn't describe himself as 'anti-social'. He enjoyed the rare occasions his fukutaicho or sister dragged him out of his office, and he'd recently started to tolerate Abarai and his rowdy gang - so it wasn't that he didn't like being social, but more that he needed his own personal space and time to a greater degree than other people).
However, defining his personality didn't help with his dilemma - there were many, many fish in the sea, yet he envisioned his desire to be that of a tiger (he mused that his heart was being difficult), and it wasn't long before he realised he was looking in all the wrong places. What the right place was, however, wasn't as easily as picking a different ocean (or not one at all, given the tiger allegory). With this at the forefront of his mind, Toshiro supposed this was why Ichigo Kurosaki's presence came as a bit of a surprise - the invasion of Soul Society had evidently taught him nothing about the ryoka.
Not that Ichigo was a meddling ryoka anymore. He still butted his nose into other people's business, but with age came wisdom, and he'd learnt to do this with more discretion. He'd gone to university and spent as long there as it took for Hinamori to talk to Toshiro again, and then settled rather hectically not far from Karakura as a doctor. Toshiro, admittedly, had almost entirely forgotten about their substitute powerhouse until he'd died suddenly and crash-landed in the seventh district, where he'd nearly wiped out a whole population of trees by accident.
"Whoa," Ichigo had muttered, laughing at the whole ordeal. "I feel like an angel from Supernatural."
Toshiro, having no idea what a 'Supernatural' was, had just quipped, "You flatter yourself," at the 'angel' reference. He'd received a few nervous laughs from the Fourth Division at that, and Ichigo had turned a delighted expression towards him, reaching up to rub his neck. For a single moment Toshiro had thought he was opening up for a hug.
Somehow that meaningless banter had invited a closer relationship between them. It was slightly taut at first, with Ichigo's gregariousness clashing with Toshiro's introversion, but after Ichigo accepted that the Tenth Division office was going to be their base, and Toshiro realised that unannounced company wasn't a dire a problem as he was making it out to be, they started to ease into the idea of being friends. And for many years, Toshiro was content with this. Ichigo became the first port of call for complaints, worries, and gossip he thought was worth hearing; Ichigo was the person he thought of visiting when he wanted a break, and Ichigo was who came to mind when he realised he hadn't been keeping track of who he enjoyed spending time with, and who he would never date in a million years.
"Oh," said Toshiro. He frowned down at his cup of tea.
Half way through a bar of chocolate, Ichigo peered down at him from where they sat on the Tenth Division roof, admiring the private gardens below. "You okay?"
"Yes," he replied, glancing up at the young man beside him. Black and orange, he thought whimsically, how fitting.
Looking doubtful, Ichigo's eyes flickered to the chocolate before finding Toshiro's pale complexion again. "Is there something on my face?"
"Yeah," Toshiro said softly, though there was only unkempt stubble and a hesitant smile gracing Ichigo's features. "Here, let me - "
Ichigo leaned forward to give him a better look, and Toshiro kissed him on the jaw.
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13 for one word
Pairing: Ichigo/Toshiro
Warnings: None
Summary: Love was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A really big needle. So big, that you didn't even realise it was there.
He never let his lack of knowledge hold him back.
That was what Toshiro liked about Ichigo.
People tended to avoid academic conversations with a prodigy; partly this was Toshiro's fault (disregarding his status as the embodiment of the social wallflower), as he found that it was trying to found someone intellectually stimulating who shared his metaphoric cup of tea. Mindless chatter was more his fukutaicho's forte (not that she was dim by any means); he'd rather touch upon the philosophical side. But the majority of his lonesome debates were due to the fact that being clever had the immediate connotation of being a self-centered prick, and nobody wanted to spend time with one of those.
He'd found it profoundly commonplace for people to be frightened off by his ability to know everything (something that was completely impossible in itself), but for the most part this had never bothered Toshiro. Over the years he had learned to live with tucking himself away in the corner of a party with a drink and his paperwork, yet around about the same time he settled down as a homosexual, it came to light that the particular species of wallflower he was considered to be didn't grow in pairs.
Being the anti-social man that he was, this was a problem.
(No, he wouldn't describe himself as 'anti-social'. He enjoyed the rare occasions his fukutaicho or sister dragged him out of his office, and he'd recently started to tolerate Abarai and his rowdy gang - so it wasn't that he didn't like being social, but more that he needed his own personal space and time to a greater degree than other people).
However, defining his personality didn't help with his dilemma - there were many, many fish in the sea, yet he envisioned his desire to be that of a tiger (he mused that his heart was being difficult), and it wasn't long before he realised he was looking in all the wrong places. What the right place was, however, wasn't as easily as picking a different ocean (or not one at all, given the tiger allegory). With this at the forefront of his mind, Toshiro supposed this was why Ichigo Kurosaki's presence came as a bit of a surprise - the invasion of Soul Society had evidently taught him nothing about the ryoka.
Not that Ichigo was a meddling ryoka anymore. He still butted his nose into other people's business, but with age came wisdom, and he'd learnt to do this with more discretion. He'd gone to university and spent as long there as it took for Hinamori to talk to Toshiro again, and then settled rather hectically not far from Karakura as a doctor. Toshiro, admittedly, had almost entirely forgotten about their substitute powerhouse until he'd died suddenly and crash-landed in the seventh district, where he'd nearly wiped out a whole population of trees by accident.
"Whoa," Ichigo had muttered, laughing at the whole ordeal. "I feel like an angel from Supernatural."
Toshiro, having no idea what a 'Supernatural' was, had just quipped, "You flatter yourself," at the 'angel' reference. He'd received a few nervous laughs from the Fourth Division at that, and Ichigo had turned a delighted expression towards him, reaching up to rub his neck. For a single moment Toshiro had thought he was opening up for a hug.
Somehow that meaningless banter had invited a closer relationship between them. It was slightly taut at first, with Ichigo's gregariousness clashing with Toshiro's introversion, but after Ichigo accepted that the Tenth Division office was going to be their base, and Toshiro realised that unannounced company wasn't a dire a problem as he was making it out to be, they started to ease into the idea of being friends. And for many years, Toshiro was content with this. Ichigo became the first port of call for complaints, worries, and gossip he thought was worth hearing; Ichigo was the person he thought of visiting when he wanted a break, and Ichigo was who came to mind when he realised he hadn't been keeping track of who he enjoyed spending time with, and who he would never date in a million years.
"Oh," said Toshiro. He frowned down at his cup of tea.
Half way through a bar of chocolate, Ichigo peered down at him from where they sat on the Tenth Division roof, admiring the private gardens below. "You okay?"
"Yes," he replied, glancing up at the young man beside him. Black and orange, he thought whimsically, how fitting.
Looking doubtful, Ichigo's eyes flickered to the chocolate before finding Toshiro's pale complexion again. "Is there something on my face?"
"Yeah," Toshiro said softly, though there was only unkempt stubble and a hesitant smile gracing Ichigo's features. "Here, let me - "
Ichigo leaned forward to give him a better look, and Toshiro kissed him on the jaw.