Insomnia (Chapter 5)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Insomnia (chapter 5)
Rating: PG-13 (overall NC-17)
Pairing: IchigoxRenji
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, spoilers
Summary: When you carry world on your shoulders, who’s left to catch you when you fall? (previous chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
Acquiesce
Ichigo blinked slowly into awareness as the first threads of dawn were just beginning to stain the outside world in hues of pink and gold. His body tried valiantly to pull him back under the spell of sleep, but he refused it, staring out across the expanse of skin before him. The window was still open, bringing a chill to the room, and sometime during the night his disobedient body had ignored his order to remain still and had rolled to face the closest source of heat. He was currently laying with his head pillowed against Renji’s chest, one tattooed arm snaked beneath his neck to hang over the edge of the bed. He also seemed to have thrown a leg over the over the other mans thigh, tangling them together in a way that he’d probably be horrified about if his thoughts weren’t so warm and languid.
The touch of dawn had chased away the harshest shadows, leaving everything softer and more hospitable. Ichigo just lay there, drifting between sleep and awake, watching the rise and fall of the chest beneath his head. Of its own accord, his hand rose from Renji’s waist to trace the pattern of the tattoo traveling out in front of his eyes. The skin was warm beneath his fingers and softer than he would have thought. It was soothing, and a part of him wanted to let eyes slip closed, to return to the dream still singing its siren song, but he just couldn’t stop tracing those coal dark lines. It was as if they held the answer to some long forgotten question if only he could decipher their meaning. He’d just finished mapping the first of these strange hieroglyphs and was dipping lower to continue his exploration when a hand covered his, stilling his movements.
“I already told ya that tickles.” Renji pulled the offending hand further up his chest, sounding vaguely amused.
Ichigo blinked at the contact, the spell that held him captive falling away into a million pieces. He suddenly remembered very clearly that he wasn’t supposed to be laying half on top of Renji and running his fingers over his skin.
“I…uh…” His mind was screaming at him not to apologize because that would mean admitting to what he’d been doing. His head slowly crept up. “How long have you been awake?
“Long enough,” Renji smirked at him evilly. “You got a real thing for tattoos, don’tcha?"
“What?! No!” Ichigo wrenched his hand from the redhead’s grasp and sprang wildly back.
Unfortunately, with two people occupying an already small bed there was little room for escape and all he really managed was to tangle himself in the sheets and plunge over the side, knocking the air out of his lungs. He lay there for a minute, a bit stunned from the impact, trying to breathe normally. There was a rustling from above and Renji’s face appeared over the side of the bed, eying him quizzically.
“Ya ain’t got a lot of experience sleepin’ with someone, do ya?” he inquired conversationally, crossing his arms in front of him and resting his chin on them.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” Ichigo yelped. He could feel this face starting to burn as he struggled with the sheets wrapped around his legs.
“I don’t mean like that, idiot.” Renji seemed to find the situation highly entertaining, “I just mean ya get real jumpy when ya wake up and there’s someone else there.”
“You make it sound weird that I’m not used to finding some guy sleeping next to me.” He finally managed to free himself from the cotton death grip and leapt to his feet.
Renji just shrugged a little. “Don’t suppose you’d have a reason to, things are pretty good here.”
Ichigo, who had been about to make a fast break for the door, paused, curious in spite of himself. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“Hm?” Renji seemed to have been drifting off into thought. “Oh, nothin’ really, just thinkin’ about when I was a kid. Things were a lot different for us.”
“Different how?” He’d always been a bit curious about how the other shinigami and Rukia had grown up. They didn’t talk about it all that much and he’d never really felt comfortable asking.
“Different in just about any way you can think of. I don’t know how much you know about Soul Society, but the 78th district of Rukongai ain’t exactly the safest place to live even if you’ve got someone lookin’ after you; which we didn’t.” Renji rolled onto his side, looking past Ichigo at some far off spot in his memory. “We were just a bunch of kids who survived by stealin’ shit. We all slept together at night cause it wasn’t safe to be alone, and when it got cold it wasn’t like we had anywhere to go so we just got a bit closer.”
“Sounds messed up,” Ichigo remarked.
The older mad just shrugged it off. “It wasn’t all bad, we had fun sometimes.”
“So all this weird sleeping stuff is just normal to you?” Ichigo eyed him dubiously.
“I didn’t say that,” Renji smirked at him. “Honestly, I haven’t really done anythin’ like this since before I started at the academy.”
“So why now? Why are you doing this to me…with me…I mean…” he was going for outrage but lost his momentum, flushing slightly.
“Who knows.” Renji didn’t look particularly perturbed by the situation. “We all gotta sleep and this seems to work.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to keep coming here because you’re having some damn childhood relapse?” Ichigo felt like the walls were starting to close in. “Don’t I get any say in this?”
“No, cause you’re bein’ a dumb shit about it,” the older man stated matter-of-factly.
“You can’t just force your way into bed with me,” Ichigo shot at him, wincing as he processed his own words.
Renji looked like he was going to laugh but managed to lock down his expression. “You really don’t put up much of a fight, you know.”
“Shut up! I don’t care what you say, this isn’t normal and I’m not doing it.” He didn’t realize that he’d been moving until his back came up against the door. He reached for the knob, wanting to be anywhere but here when Renji’s voice stilled him again.
“I didn’t say it was normal, I just said it worked.” He sat up, pushing some hair back out of his face and leveling the younger man with a stare. “And you’re a hell of a lot touchier than anyone I grew up with so it ain’t exactly normal for me either. “
“I am not touchy,” Ichigo declared defensively, his voice higher than he remembered it.
“Don’t worry about it, I blame the tattoos. Didn’t have them when I was a kid, after all.” Renji was grinning now and Ichigo scowled darkly, having finally caught onto the fact that he was messing with him for his own amusement.
“I fucking hate you,” Ichigo muttered, wrenching the door open. “You better stay the hell out of my closet while I’m in the shower.”
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School was hell; there was just no other word to describe it. He couldn’t seem to concentrate today, which wasn’t unusual because he was always occupied with much larger concerns, but this time the teachers seemed to notice. He’d already been called on three times to answer questions that he hadn’t even heard being asked. As if that weren’t enough, his math teacher had called him aside as they were letting out for lunch to ask if he was feeling alright. He’d explained that everything was fine but she had insisted that he see the nurse anyway because he’d been looking pale lately. He’d complied, but only because he could tell she wasn’t going to leave it alone. He was currently doodling a decent representation of Zangetsu on a blank page of notebook paper and watching the clock out of the corner of his eye. Only one hour left, he could survive one more hour.
Rukia had come to him that morning and informed him that she and Inoue would be returning to Soul Society later that day. Apparently she’d gotten in into her head to train the other girl and thought that Sereitei would be a better place for that. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about the whole training thing, seeing as Rukia had been pretty vague about it, but he had gone along with it. Rukia had actually seemed surprised that he didn’t argue but the truth was that he was a bit relieved. With Rukia and Inoue in Sereitei they would be under constant protection, which meant that there were two less people he had to worry about.
Inoue seemed both subdued and excited in a way that only she could really pull off. He’d heard her telling her friends that she was going to be out of town for awhile taking care of a sick relative, and he’d noticed there was a slight tremor in her voice. She kept casting furtive glances in his direction, like she wanted to say something but always seemed to change her mind. He had wished her good luck and she had blushed, mumbling a thank you and then hurrying off to her next class. He mentally shrugged; he’d never really understood what made Inoue tick.
“Hey Ichigo, have you seen Renji today?” Rukia whispered across the aisle, jerking him from his thoughts and causing him to drop his pen.
“When the hell would I have seen Renji?” He scowled, bending down to look for the lost utensil.
“I thought I felt a trace of his reitsu when I got up this morning, I was just wondering if he’d stopped by.” She was frowning a bit.
“I don’t know where Renji is,” he hissed at her, dodging the question and wondering why the room was starting to feel hot. Rukia was definitely frowning at him now but he ignored her, turning back to face the teacher.
He fell into a silent tirade, cursing shinigami, their damn reiatsu sensing abilities and their damn warped senses of humor. He was fairly certain that Renji had been messing with him for the sake of messing with him earlier, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d been right about some things. Ichigo had been wracking his brain for most of the day to come up with an excuse for his behavior but so far he’d come up with nothing. Granted he’d still been half asleep, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good enough reason to be running his fingers across Renji’s chest and musing about its texture. No, scratch that, he was definitely sure it wasn’t a good enough reason. Damn tattoos. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that they were some sort of demon magic. That would certainly explain some things.
Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building. He recognized that the chances of Renji’s tattoos possessing some sort of hand controlling magic were about the same as Aizen showing up tomorrow dressed in bows with big apology tears rolling down his cheeks. This was bad. He wasn’t exactly clear where the line was, since he wasn’t really sure what the hell was going on, but curling around Renji and petting him was certainly on the wrong side of it. His head hit his desk with a dull thud. He didn’t want to think about it anymore but he couldn’t seem to stop.
He was more than a little afraid that Renji was going to be waiting for them again, but when they finally made their way out of the building he was nowhere in sight. Ichigo let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding, gaining him a strange look from Rukia, and turned in the direction of his house.
“Well isn’t this a surprise.” Ichigo twitched as a familiar green clad figure seemed to materialize next to him, toying idly with a fan. “Imagine meeting you here, Kurosaki-kun.”
“What do you want, Urahara-san?” Ichigo huffed, not in the mood for theatrics.
“Someone’s a bit grumpy today,” he mused lightly, pulling his hat a bit lower over his eyes. “Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”
Ichigo’s head snapped around and he met the pale gaze searchingly. He could never tell what the other man was thinking. “I slept fine, what do you want?”
“My, my, you are in a mood. I was just going to ask if you had some free time. I needed to run a few more tests.” There was a strange calculating look in his eyes.
Ichigo just stared at him for a minute before sighing, “Fine, I’m not doing anything now I guess. Just let me go change.”
“Excellent, I’ll see you in a little while.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.
True to his word he was only home long enough change out of his uniform before he was back out the door. Rukia had offered to accompany him but he’d turned her down, knowing she had preparations to make for her upcoming trip. It didn’t take long to reach Urahara’s shop and he wasn’t really surprised to see Renji outside sweeping. He seemed to have taken up chores as a form of housing compensation. He also wasn’t surprised, though that didn’t stop him from being irritated, to find the other man was wearing one of his shirts again.
“I told you to stay out of my closet,” he muttered sullenly as Renji turned to face him.
“You said that this mornin’. I took this yesterday,” he replied, though in a tone that clearly stated that it wouldn’t have mattered.
“Figures.” Ichigo brushed past him.
“Workin’ with Urahara on somethin’?” Renji followed him inside, leaning the broom against the wall.
“Yeah.” He looked around but didn’t see the man in question anywhere.
“Need any help?” Renji stepped around him, motioning the younger man to follow.
“No.” It came out a bit sharper than he’d intended, but he definitely didn’t want Renji there for whatever Urahara had planned.
The redhead paused, looking back at him with a frown. “Does this have something to do with your inner hollow, or whatever it is that Rukia keeps callin’ it?”
Ichigo blanched. He really needed to get Rukia some books on subtlety. “Something like that.”
“Don’t suppose you wanna explain what that means?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Not really,” he admitted and was surprised when Renji let it drop.
The older man pointed to the basement door, indicating that Urahara was waiting there, before heading back to the front of the store. Ichigo figured that Urahara must have said something to him before he showed up to keep the redhead from arguing. He pushed it out of his mind and dropped over the edge onto the ladder.
“Good to see you’ve made it,” Urahara said easily, the moment Ichigo’s feet were on the ground. He punctuated his pleasantries with a sharp jab to Ichigo’s face with his cane, knocking him out of his body.
“You know, you could give me a bit of warning,” Ichigo shouted, staggering backwards.
“Hmmm.” The former captain had already turned away, trusting Ichigo to follow.
“What are we doing, anyway?” He didn’t bother moving his body, just picked up his pace to catch the man.
“Do you know what a Negacion field is?” Urahara eyed him curiously.
It did sound familiar, like something someone had mentioned before. He tried to sort back through his memories, conscious of the pale eyes studying him, but he just couldn’t grasp it. “What is it?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t recall the name, you were a bit preoccupied at the time. A Negacion field is an ability of the Menos which they use when rescuing their own.” Urahara stopped at a small table, digging absently through a box.
“You mean that light that Aizen used to escape Soul Society.” Ichigo finally remembered where he’d heard the term.
“Exactly.” The older man was placing an assortment of oddities on the table, pausing occasionally to switch their order as if they made some sense to him.
“So what does that have to do with me?” Ichigo asked, eyeing the growing pile suspiciously.
“Well you see, I have reason to believe that Aizen might be working on a device to simulate a small scale version of that field.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, staring at an ominous looking tube as though he couldn’t remember why he’d brought it. “Originally the field was meant for protection, shielding whatever was inside of it in an alternate dimension. With a bit of modification, however, it could be used as a weapon, trapping someone or something in the other dimension.”
“How do you know what Aizen’s working on?” Ichigo’s eyes narrowed.
“Well I don’t know for sure, it’s just a guess really.” Urahara flashed him a brief glance, looking a bit sheepish. “You see, I was working on something similar during my time in the 12th division and it seems Aizen spent some time browsing through my notes.”
“What’s with you and making dangerous shit?” Ichigo exclaimed, approaching the table.
“I wouldn’t really call it dangerous. As far as I could tell, it was rather ineffective against shinigami. I suspect that Aizen intends to use the device to keep his own people in line.” Urahara was back to examining the tube.
“So it could be a weapon against the Espada?” Ichigo was suddenly warming to the idea.
“Probably not the Espada, they’re much stronger than I had anticipated, but it should be effective against the other Arrancar,” Urahara corrected absently, handing him the tube and reaching for a small sphere.
“Well, we could use all the help we can get. What do you need me to do?” he asked.
Urahara fidgeted nervously, watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I need to run some tests so that I can refine the process.”
“You want me to be some sort of guinea pig for one of your crazy inventions?” Ichigo yelped, jumping away from the table as if it had bit him. “No way! Get someone else.”
“I can’t do that Kurosaki-san, I already told you it doesn’t work well on shinigami.” Urahara turned to face him completely and Ichigo’s eyes narrowed in warning. “You’re the only hollow I know.”
“I am not a hollow!” Ichigo snarled, tension radiating from him like a physical force. He turned to leave but a hand caught his arm.
“I know you’re not technically a hollow, but neither are the Arrancar. Even though you’re almost complete opposites in regards to how you came to be there are still similarities in your powers.” Urahara’s eyes were searching his face, serious and tired. Ichigo continued to fume but made no move to leave again.
“So you want to try to trap me in that thing?” he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“It‘s the only way to make sure it works,” Urahara explained.
“What do I have to do?” Ichigo bit out.
“You just have to stand there and then try to break free once you’re trapped. I’ll monitor the process and make adjustments.” Urahara released him and returned to the table. “Oh, and you’ll have to put on your mask,” he added, his shoulders tensing slightly.
“I can’t.” Ichigo’s voice was hard. “I’ll show up on the communicators as a hollow or something.”
“I’ve added some shielding to the room; it should prevent that from happening.” Urahara was back, slipping something around Ichigo’s neck. It looked like a little metal cube etched with strange runes.
“I can only hold my mask for 11 seconds.” Ichigo frowned at the thing and then at the man in front of him. “I already told you that.”
“I know. You’ll just have to keep calling it out.” Urahara moved away, retrieving a couple more things and then turning to face him. “Are you ready?”
“No.” Ichigo glared at him. “How do I know that I’m not going to end up stuck somewhere or blown up?”
“Honestly, you have to learn to trust,” Urahara admonished with a dazzling smile, though his eyes remained serious. They both recognized that there were no guarantees but there were also no other options.
“Fine, let’s just get this over with.” He gritted his teeth, dropping the cube back against his chest.
“Mask on, please.” Urahara twisted the thing in his hand and it started to glow.
Ichigo hesitated only briefly before bringing his hand up and drawing it across his face, feeling the mask form beneath it. He saw Urahara’s eyes widen in shock before he quickly schooled his features. They stared at each other for a second, some unknown understanding passing between them and then Urahara gave a short nod and twisted the thing again. Ichigo’s world exploded.
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The sky seemed to spin lazily as Ichigo lay panting on the sand, pain creeping through his veins to settle as a dull ache deep in his bones. Somewhere to his left he could hear movement, a soft clicking and the scratch of a pencil. Urahara was busily updating his notes. Ichigo didn’t bother to turn his head, they’d been at this for hours and he’d learned to take any opportunity to rest that was given.
Each time he managed to free himself from the effects of the Negacion field Urahara would record some data, make some adjustments and they would start over again. The first time he’d managed to free himself after barely 10 minutes of struggle, but now they were up to a solid hour. It was getting harder to measure their success in the last couple of rounds, though, because he was starting to have trouble holding his mask. The effort required to escape the void dimension was greater than he’d expected and it was wearing on him.
A tremor of pain wracked his body and he coughed violently, grimacing at the copper taste that filled his mouth. He turned his head and spit onto the sand, watching the crimson stain sink into the ground. He wondered idly when coughing up his own blood had stopped being cause for real concern.
Wincing, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wiping at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve as Urahara approached. The older man tossed him a bottle of water which he gladly accepted.
“Again?” he asked, rinsing the blood out of his mouth and climbing to his feet.
“No, it’s late and your mask is getting too unstable.” He pulled the cube from around Ichigo’s neck and stared at it. “Besides, I think I’ve reached the limit where small adjustments are concerned. I need to make some more detailed modifications.”
“Tomorrow?” Ichigo was still panting.
“Or the next day, I’ll have to see about the modifications.” Urahara dropped the cube into his pocket and studied the younger man. “You should get some rest; these exertions will have really taxed your abilities.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ichigo huffed, all too familiar with the sleep lecture at this point.
“Staring at your ceiling isn’t what I would call resting,” Urahara continued blithely, packing things back into the box. “These experiments are going to take a little more out of you each time. It’s important that you do whatever it takes to get adequate sleep.”
Something in Urahara’s tone caught Ichigo’s full attention and his eyes narrowed. The older man flashed him one of the nonsensical, meaningless smiles that he was so fond of, but Ichigo still had a feeling that he knew more than he was letting on. He felt irritation warring with embarrassment but managed a sharp nod, indicating that he would try.
“Well I suppose I’ll be off to bed.” Urahara scooped the box up and turned towards the ladder, “I’ll let you know about the tests tomorrow, Kurosaki-kun.”
Ichigo ran his hands roughly through his hair, staring into the now empty room. He could already feel the pressures and concerns starting to spin in his head now that he was no longer caught up in an immediate battle. His struggles with the Negacion field had worn him out, but not to the point of exhaustion, not enough to force him to sleep. He swore violently, listening to the echo return his sentiment as he stalked away to retrieve his body.
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Ichigo pressed his forehead against the door, squeezing his eyes shut and wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing here. It was a ridiculous question, of course, because he knew exactly what he was doing; it was just that he was having a hard time believing it. Finally, after approximately five years had passed in about 11 seconds he gave up his mental battle and slid the door back. The room was dark but the light from the hall was enough to illuminate the lone figure asleep on the futon. He nearly bolted again but managed to get a hold of himself. He, Kurosaki Ichigo, battler of Arrancar, bane of the Espada, was certainly not going to give in to fear over one unarmed, sleeping shinigami. If he was asleep, that is. Ichigo eyed him warily as he stepped into the room and slid the door closed.
He just stood there for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust, listening to the steady breathing of the other man. When he determined that he could see well enough to not trip over anything he stepped forward, skirting the futon and making his way to the table in the corner. Biting back another string of curses he pulled his shirt over his head and folded it carelessly, tossing it onto the glossy wood. He reached for the button on his pants but stilled, glaring at the motionless figure on the ground, unable to determine his level of dress from the outlines in the blanket. He left the pants on.
“You better not sleep naked,” he hissed accusingly, scowling at the prone and motionless shinigami.
He padded on bare feet back to the futon, staring down at its occupant, unsure of how to proceed. Renji was lying on his back, one arm flung up over his head, hair escaping the messy braid to fan across his pillow. Ichigo was hesitant to touch the man for fear of waking him, but couldn’t think of any other feasible way to move him, short of finding something to poke him with. He dropped to his knees slowly, biting his lip in concentration and looking for the best leverage point. He’d barely settled on the floor, though, when Renji stirred, shifting onto his side and scooting backwards. His eyes were open and fixed on Ichigo as he lifted the blanket in a wordless invitation.
“Why the fuck are you always awake?” Ichigo demanded, eyes narrowed in frustration.
“Ya ain’t exactly quiet.” He didn’t sound like he’d been asleep in the first place. “Ya getting’ in or not?”
“No way,” Ichigo balked at him. “I’m not letting you spoon me.”
“Not like there’s a whole lotta room on a futon,” he pointed out.
“Well face the other direction then,” Ichigo ordered.
“Even in the braid my hair gets in the way,” Renji explained patiently, the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously. “Don’t really want ya sleepin’ on it.”
They just stared at each other for a long moment, Renji looking vaguely amused and Ichigo looking mutinous. Renji flicked the wrist still holding the blanket as if to remind Ichigo of the offer, one eyebrow drifting upwards.
“Damnit!” Ichigo scowled, slipping in under the blanket and rolling to face the wall. “Not a fucking word.”
Renji ignored him, adjusting the blanket around them and settling back down into the futon. Ichigo shoved his arm under his head and continued to scowl at the wall, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Still, as his heart rate began to even out he felt that welcome sense of tiredness start to creep through his veins. The scowl had almost completely dropped away when Renji rolled forward and draped an arm around his waist.
“What the hell did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?” Ichigo growled, tugging at the arm.
“You squirm around a lot and there’s less room than in your bed.” Renji’s breath was warm on his neck.
“I do not,” he ground out, the familiar sense of surreal outrage setting in.
“The fuck you don’t.” Renji refused to release his grip. “How the hell do you think you ended up like you were this mornin’?”
Ichigo continued to struggle for a few more seconds but it was only halfhearted, he knew this was another battle he was destined to lose. “In case you’re wondering, this is why I hate you,” he grumbled, giving up completely.
“Just go to sleep, Ichigo.” He could hear the smirk in Renji’s voice.
The arm holding him shifted, settling more comfortable around his waist, hand brushing lightly against his stomach. Renji appeared prone to idle movement because after about half a minute he began tracing slow patterns against Ichigo’s bare skin with his thumb. A wave of chills broke out across the flesh, sending a shiver up his spine.
“Quit fucking petting me, Renji,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, clamping down on another shiver.
“Quit complaining,” Renji whispered back, though his hand stilled.
Neither one spoke again, and after a few minutes Ichigo felt the breath stirring his hair start to slow. His own eyes felt gritty and the effort to keep them open was just too great. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the arm draped over him, but the more tired he got the less he really cared. He sighed, feeling the last of the tension leave his body. He had a bad feeling that if he put too much thought into this whole situation he wasn’t going to like what he came up with, so he decided to just not think about it. Renji was right, they needed to sleep and this worked. For now that was enough of an explanation, he could deal with the thinking part later.