Needles {Kenpachi/Jushiro}
Title: Needles
Characters: Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-15
Word count: 1,403
Summary: This time, Ukitake Jushiro isn't the one who's lying on the hospital bed and cursing Unohana's infamous needles.
A/N: Dedicated to gokuma (go check out sandbox-society NAO), kurosakikonsama (I'm still waiting for your fic, dear) and cruelest-month whose amazing fic Undisclosed Desires made me squeal my head off. Hope you guys like this because, well, I was so stressed out when I was writing this. Written for Prompt #9: Hospital of otp_100.
The hospital: a place where the sick and dying are kept to either be treated or wait for death to claim them, locked inside a square room of immaculately whitewashed walls and buried under pristine white sheets.
Jushiro was no stranger to the hospital. In fact, he made a trip to the Fourth Division headquarters at least twice a month for health checks and to pick up his medicine. That was also where Unohana would pierce him with needles until he was nothing more than a pincushion.
He never quite liked the hospital during the early stages of his illness. He would scream and cry and fight his parents when it was time to go, but that was during his youth. Eventually, he became used to it, and it was safe to say that those needles helped develop his patience and tolerance.
Occasionally though, his health would deteriorate so much that he had no other choice but to stay in the hospital for as long as a week until Unohana saw fit to release him. He didn't really minded except for the nagging feeling of loneliness in the back of his heart, but Kyoraku did come to visit him - at least.
But, to be honest, Jushiro never really expected the Eleventh Division captain to fuss over him and send a box of chocolate to comfort him anyway. That wasn't his style at all, though sometimes Jushiro wished, in the smallest corner of his heart, that the coarse man would at least do something to show that he was even remotely concerned about his health.
And now Jushiro found himself in the hospital once again, confronted by those ghostly white walls, but for once he wasn't the one lying in bed, cursing his illness.
Instead, he sat reclining in the chair beside the bed, reading last month's Seireitei Communication, in silence.
Jushiro turned a page, eager to get to Captain Hitsugaya's column featuring pictures of ice sculptures, and that was when he caught a storm grey eye glaring at him. He looked up and frowned in puzzlement.
"Do you need something?"
"Fuck you, Ukitake."
"You can't, really. Look, you can't even move your neck without-"
Zaraki Kenpachi, captain of the Eleventh, twisted his head to the side to prove him wrong, but a loud snap later and he buried his face in the quilts, teeth grinding, muffling a long, drawn out curse.
Immediately, Jushiro had thrown down the magazine and was by the bedside, hands firmly placed on Kenpachi's shoulders, lips pursed with worry when Kenpachi smacked his hands away on impulse.
"I told you not to-"
"Shut up, asshole," he hissed, gripping the back of his neck, almost piercing through skin with his nails. "I don't need yer fuckin' lectures. If ye ain't got nothin' t'say, jus' go fuck off."
Jushiro let out a sigh, brushing Kenpachi's messy hair out of his eyes. Oddly enough, he didn't make any sounds or movements of protest, and so Jushiro settled himself lightly on the bed beside him.
It wasn't often one got to see the Eleventh Division captain, or any of the previous Kenpachis, admitted into the hospital…but that didn't mean they had never been in a beaten-up shinigami's shoes before. Kenpachi was strong, but still he had his moments, and all Jushiro could do was stay by his side and wait out his bitterness.
"Ukitake," he muttered, breaking the companionable silence.
"Mm?"
"That woman gonna stick 'em needles int'me again?"
"It's most likely, why?"
Kenpachi scoffed and threw the covers over himself, and that was the last of it. Jushiro stared at his back, fingers absently twisting a thin lock of his hair, and he couldn't help but smile in slight amusement.
Though he was a bloodthirsty, violent battle maniac, the man, in truth, wasn't too fond of needles. It wasn't the blade that he feared, or even Yamamoto's zanpakuto, but needles turned him off. He wasn't frightened of them - he just didn't like them.
Jushiro never quite figured out why, and he did want to ask, but decided to just leave it at that. He had already known from experience that whatever Kenpachi wanted to tell him, he'd do it at his own time. There was just no good in pestering him about it.
And in regards to Kenpachi's being in the hospital in the first place…well, he'd never be able to squeeze it out of the man, so Jushiro took to asking Unohana. The Eleventh Division had been handed a mission to combat a huge group of deadly Menos Grande just yesterday. It was supposed to be a joint mission with the Sixth Division, but as always, Kenpachi scoffed at the idea of having another division in his way and told them all to retreat.
Many were wounded to the point of death. Some even died, but death, to the Eleventh, was just what one paid for a good fight. The mission had worn on into the early hours of dawn. One by one the shinigami pulled out, with Ikkaku and Yumichika being last, ordered by Kenpachi to bring Yachiru home because it was "way past the damn brat's bedtime."
Yachiru didn't want to leave him, but one quick threat and Ikkaku managed to wrench her away from Kenpachi.
Jushiro wasn't quite worried in the first place when Ikkaku told him what happened. He wasn't very fond of Kenpachi's insatiable lust for battle, but that was the price he had to pay for being with such a man. He had waited for his return, until finally he fell asleep on the balcony of his Ugendo, only woken up by Sentaro who brought news of Captain Zaraki being in the hospital.
Kenpachi had tried forcing his way out, claiming to be "as goddamned fine as ever." Jushiro had raced to the Fourth Division and found him tearing his way through the nurses, single uncovered eye gleaming with excitement, blood staining every inch of his torn haori.
Apparently, the Sixth Division hadn't completely retreated, and Kenpachi - being Kenpachi - immediately took advantage of fighting its captain.
The only known person who could pin Kenpachi down and force him back into his ward was Jushiro, and that was exactly what he did.
Maybe that was why the man was currently so bitter at him.
Jushiro watched his finger twirl another lock of Kenpachi's hair, stopped it, and went on to caress his shoulder.
"If it makes you feel any better, Captain Kuchiki's also being treated in a ward down the hall."
Kenpachi only gave a short grunt in response. Jushiro tugged the covers away, revealing his bandaged abdomen and his face where a piece of cotton was taped to his right cheek. He gazed at sunburned skin for a moment longer, smoothing a hand over a large scar on Kenpachi's shoulder blade, and leaned down to plant a kiss on the side of his neck.
"I have to leave for work now," he said, getting off of the bed. "I'll come and see you later, probably in-"
Kenpachi's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, gripped it hard and tight, and with that he pulled Jushiro down to him.
"Where's Yachiru'?"
"She's…she's in the Ugendo, sleeping." Jushiro stared into his eye, and there he found a taint of concern and, unexpectedly, a shade of what Jushiro usually felt whenever he was alone in his ward. He reached out, touched his fingers gently to Kenpachi's chin, the expression in his eyes softening as the thought finally dawned on him.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
Kenpachi said nothing as he turned away to face the window, but his vice-grip never wavered. Feeling the side of his mouth quirk up with a smile, Jushiro gave him a peck on the shoulder, a rather playful one, slipped under the covers and wrapped his arms around Kenpachi's waist.
"This fuckin' sucks ass," he muttered after a while of awkward silence.
Jushiro thought about it for a moment, then lifted himself and lay back against the pillows.
"Not really."
Kenpachi turned around and looked up at him, and when Jushiro leaned down and captured his lips in his own, he found the truth behind his words. Jushiro ran his fingers through his hair, leaving light kisses all over his face, and Kenpachi couldn't help but chuckle and pull him down for another lip-lock.
Needles - they were nothing now that Jushiro was here.
Characters: Kenpachi/Jushiro
Rating: PG-15
Word count: 1,403
Summary: This time, Ukitake Jushiro isn't the one who's lying on the hospital bed and cursing Unohana's infamous needles.
A/N: Dedicated to gokuma (go check out sandbox-society NAO), kurosakikonsama (I'm still waiting for your fic, dear) and cruelest-month whose amazing fic Undisclosed Desires made me squeal my head off. Hope you guys like this because, well, I was so stressed out when I was writing this. Written for Prompt #9: Hospital of otp_100.
The hospital: a place where the sick and dying are kept to either be treated or wait for death to claim them, locked inside a square room of immaculately whitewashed walls and buried under pristine white sheets.
Jushiro was no stranger to the hospital. In fact, he made a trip to the Fourth Division headquarters at least twice a month for health checks and to pick up his medicine. That was also where Unohana would pierce him with needles until he was nothing more than a pincushion.
He never quite liked the hospital during the early stages of his illness. He would scream and cry and fight his parents when it was time to go, but that was during his youth. Eventually, he became used to it, and it was safe to say that those needles helped develop his patience and tolerance.
Occasionally though, his health would deteriorate so much that he had no other choice but to stay in the hospital for as long as a week until Unohana saw fit to release him. He didn't really minded except for the nagging feeling of loneliness in the back of his heart, but Kyoraku did come to visit him - at least.
But, to be honest, Jushiro never really expected the Eleventh Division captain to fuss over him and send a box of chocolate to comfort him anyway. That wasn't his style at all, though sometimes Jushiro wished, in the smallest corner of his heart, that the coarse man would at least do something to show that he was even remotely concerned about his health.
And now Jushiro found himself in the hospital once again, confronted by those ghostly white walls, but for once he wasn't the one lying in bed, cursing his illness.
Instead, he sat reclining in the chair beside the bed, reading last month's Seireitei Communication, in silence.
Jushiro turned a page, eager to get to Captain Hitsugaya's column featuring pictures of ice sculptures, and that was when he caught a storm grey eye glaring at him. He looked up and frowned in puzzlement.
"Do you need something?"
"Fuck you, Ukitake."
"You can't, really. Look, you can't even move your neck without-"
Zaraki Kenpachi, captain of the Eleventh, twisted his head to the side to prove him wrong, but a loud snap later and he buried his face in the quilts, teeth grinding, muffling a long, drawn out curse.
Immediately, Jushiro had thrown down the magazine and was by the bedside, hands firmly placed on Kenpachi's shoulders, lips pursed with worry when Kenpachi smacked his hands away on impulse.
"I told you not to-"
"Shut up, asshole," he hissed, gripping the back of his neck, almost piercing through skin with his nails. "I don't need yer fuckin' lectures. If ye ain't got nothin' t'say, jus' go fuck off."
Jushiro let out a sigh, brushing Kenpachi's messy hair out of his eyes. Oddly enough, he didn't make any sounds or movements of protest, and so Jushiro settled himself lightly on the bed beside him.
It wasn't often one got to see the Eleventh Division captain, or any of the previous Kenpachis, admitted into the hospital…but that didn't mean they had never been in a beaten-up shinigami's shoes before. Kenpachi was strong, but still he had his moments, and all Jushiro could do was stay by his side and wait out his bitterness.
"Ukitake," he muttered, breaking the companionable silence.
"Mm?"
"That woman gonna stick 'em needles int'me again?"
"It's most likely, why?"
Kenpachi scoffed and threw the covers over himself, and that was the last of it. Jushiro stared at his back, fingers absently twisting a thin lock of his hair, and he couldn't help but smile in slight amusement.
Though he was a bloodthirsty, violent battle maniac, the man, in truth, wasn't too fond of needles. It wasn't the blade that he feared, or even Yamamoto's zanpakuto, but needles turned him off. He wasn't frightened of them - he just didn't like them.
Jushiro never quite figured out why, and he did want to ask, but decided to just leave it at that. He had already known from experience that whatever Kenpachi wanted to tell him, he'd do it at his own time. There was just no good in pestering him about it.
And in regards to Kenpachi's being in the hospital in the first place…well, he'd never be able to squeeze it out of the man, so Jushiro took to asking Unohana. The Eleventh Division had been handed a mission to combat a huge group of deadly Menos Grande just yesterday. It was supposed to be a joint mission with the Sixth Division, but as always, Kenpachi scoffed at the idea of having another division in his way and told them all to retreat.
Many were wounded to the point of death. Some even died, but death, to the Eleventh, was just what one paid for a good fight. The mission had worn on into the early hours of dawn. One by one the shinigami pulled out, with Ikkaku and Yumichika being last, ordered by Kenpachi to bring Yachiru home because it was "way past the damn brat's bedtime."
Yachiru didn't want to leave him, but one quick threat and Ikkaku managed to wrench her away from Kenpachi.
Jushiro wasn't quite worried in the first place when Ikkaku told him what happened. He wasn't very fond of Kenpachi's insatiable lust for battle, but that was the price he had to pay for being with such a man. He had waited for his return, until finally he fell asleep on the balcony of his Ugendo, only woken up by Sentaro who brought news of Captain Zaraki being in the hospital.
Kenpachi had tried forcing his way out, claiming to be "as goddamned fine as ever." Jushiro had raced to the Fourth Division and found him tearing his way through the nurses, single uncovered eye gleaming with excitement, blood staining every inch of his torn haori.
Apparently, the Sixth Division hadn't completely retreated, and Kenpachi - being Kenpachi - immediately took advantage of fighting its captain.
The only known person who could pin Kenpachi down and force him back into his ward was Jushiro, and that was exactly what he did.
Maybe that was why the man was currently so bitter at him.
Jushiro watched his finger twirl another lock of Kenpachi's hair, stopped it, and went on to caress his shoulder.
"If it makes you feel any better, Captain Kuchiki's also being treated in a ward down the hall."
Kenpachi only gave a short grunt in response. Jushiro tugged the covers away, revealing his bandaged abdomen and his face where a piece of cotton was taped to his right cheek. He gazed at sunburned skin for a moment longer, smoothing a hand over a large scar on Kenpachi's shoulder blade, and leaned down to plant a kiss on the side of his neck.
"I have to leave for work now," he said, getting off of the bed. "I'll come and see you later, probably in-"
Kenpachi's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, gripped it hard and tight, and with that he pulled Jushiro down to him.
"Where's Yachiru'?"
"She's…she's in the Ugendo, sleeping." Jushiro stared into his eye, and there he found a taint of concern and, unexpectedly, a shade of what Jushiro usually felt whenever he was alone in his ward. He reached out, touched his fingers gently to Kenpachi's chin, the expression in his eyes softening as the thought finally dawned on him.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
Kenpachi said nothing as he turned away to face the window, but his vice-grip never wavered. Feeling the side of his mouth quirk up with a smile, Jushiro gave him a peck on the shoulder, a rather playful one, slipped under the covers and wrapped his arms around Kenpachi's waist.
"This fuckin' sucks ass," he muttered after a while of awkward silence.
Jushiro thought about it for a moment, then lifted himself and lay back against the pillows.
"Not really."
Kenpachi turned around and looked up at him, and when Jushiro leaned down and captured his lips in his own, he found the truth behind his words. Jushiro ran his fingers through his hair, leaving light kisses all over his face, and Kenpachi couldn't help but chuckle and pull him down for another lip-lock.
Needles - they were nothing now that Jushiro was here.