"Enough" [Shunsui/Nanao] [Bleach]
Title :: Enough
Author :: vicious_lullaby
Fandom :: Bleach
Characters/Pairing :: Kyouraku Shunsui/Ise Nanao, and an intervening Matsumoto Rangiku
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 1,055
Summary :: If he drove her crazy, then wasn't it fair if she drove him crazy in return?
Lyric Prompt :: Hold your head up you silly girl look what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
-- Martha, My Dear
There was only one person Kyouraku Shunsui had ever met who could rival his vice-captain’s sheer stubbornness: His favourite drinking partner.
Matsumoto Rangiku’s tenacity was very nearly as impressive as her cleavage, and only escalated when there was alcohol to fuel it.
Case in point: Their current argument had so far lasted through three bottles of sake, and was showing no signs of drawing to a close.
“Nanao-chan is a smart girl,” Shunsui reiterated to her for the fourth time. “And gods know I’ve never been a subtle man. She’s caught on to how I feel by now - hell, she probably caught on a century ago.”
“That doesn’t --”
“Nanao-chan is also adorably strong-minded. She may be strict, but if she gets it into her pretty little head that she wants to do something, she does it, and consequences be damned. This is the woman who followed me to fight Yama-jii, remember?” His eyes were already shielded by his hat, but here he squeezed them shut anyway. “If she really wanted to, there’s no way she wouldn’t have acted on it by now.”
And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, something smacked him mercilessly in the hat.
“Nanao-chan?!” Shunsui yelped, jerking reflexively to a sitting position. “I didn’t know you were listen--”
“She isn’t.” Rangiku attempted to frown at him with her lips still attached to a sake bottle, and largely failed. “I’m just smacking you for her.”
Eyebrows jerked up into the hidden recesses of the hat. “Hey, whose side are you on here?!”
“It’s no wonder she has to hit you so much!” Rangiku shrilled, giving a drunken flail of her arms. “You really are an idiot!”
“Ouch.” Shunsui cringed and helped himself to another swig. “Somehow, that hurts a lot less when it’s coming from Nanao.”
“Honestly, Shunsui.” Rangiku stopped flailing and arched her shoulders in a somehow-graceful shrug. “Do you really think a woman like Nanao could have put up with a man like you for all these years if there wasn’t love involved?”
Shunsui gaped at her for a long moment.
I’ll be damned, he thought in wonder. She just might have a point.
Two more bottles of sake later, and Shunsui had at least agreed to listen to her plots.
“What we need,” said Rangiku sagely, “is a catalyst. The feeling themselves are already there, so we just need to find a way to bring them out.”
Shunsui waited politely.
“We can fake your death.”
“No.”
“We can tell her Yamamoto’s finally decided to exile you because you’re nothing but a lazy, drunken bum.”
“No.”
“We can drug her.”
“No!”
“We can tell her you’re in love with me!”
Shunsui snickered. “Sorry, Rangiku.”
“Aw, Shunsui.” She pouted. “You’re so uncooperative sometimes.” Then, abruptly, the pout was gone and she was surging to her feet. “I know!”
And off she stumbled, yelling Nanao’s name.
“Nanao!” she exclaimed when she found her friend a few moments later, striking what she thought to be a suitably dramatic pose. (It was about to get a lot more dramatic if she didn’t stop and adjust her top.) “Look at me! This is important! Your captain loves you so much that he isn’t willing to fake his own death, pretend to be an exile, drug you, or be in love with me to prove it!”
Nanao stared at her for a long minute, sniffing delicately. Ah. Sake. That explained it.
“Captain Kyouraku,” she called, raising her voice just enough so that she knew he would hear. “I very much appreciate you not drugging me.”
And then she went right back to her paperwork.
She didn’t catch Rangiku’s flailing (or her putting her breasts in danger for the second time since barging in), but Shunsui’s laughter still reached her ears.
A bit later, Nanao was still wading through her paperwork, but now she was signing her name with a bit more flourish than was strictly necessary, and a faint smile ghosted over her lips. I’ll respond to his advances, she thought to herself, when he finally gets it through his thick skull that he’s never needed them to begin with.
Some things were strong enough to stand on their own without any extra dramatics, after all.
(Or, for that matter, drugs.)
And when her captain staggered back into the office several hours later, now quite spectacularly drunk, things were as perfectly normal as if Matsumoto had never intervened - Shunsui made it to her desk, tried to give her a cheerfully drunken hello kiss, and whacked her in the forehead with his hat instead. She smacked him upside the head with her fan in retaliation, and then a second time for good measure when he collapsed over her paperwork.
But when she was quite certain he was in fact dead to the world, her hand crept forward and wove carefully through the strands of hair now littering her work.
She noted the darkness of it, noted its contrast with the white of the paper, and for a split second she wondered if it would be that striking splayed over sheets instead. (Then she wondered if his sheets were even white at all, or if he’d had them custom-made to match that damned haori, and she had to stifle a grin.)
Matsumoto would call me silly for behaving this way, I’m sure. But I suppose it’s only fair I make him wait, Nanao mused. Considering he’s done nothing but make a fool of himself thus far.
She smirked to herself. He drives me crazy, I drive him crazy in return. He doesn’t seem to understand that two people can play this game, after all.
And what he also didn’t understand, what Matsumoto didn’t understand, what Nanao herself barely understood - she really wouldn’t have him, or this, any other way.
And right now, she was perfectly content, and if her captain’s heavy snores were any indication, so was he.
This is strong enough to stand on its own, even if I'm the only one smart enough to realise it, and it’s more than enough for now.
Nanao watched him smile stupidly in his sleep, and when she tentatively traced the curve of his lips with the lightest of fingertips, she couldn’t resist smiling herself.
(But somewhere, she knew, Matsumoto Rangiku would be pouting.)
Author :: vicious_lullaby
Fandom :: Bleach
Characters/Pairing :: Kyouraku Shunsui/Ise Nanao, and an intervening Matsumoto Rangiku
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 1,055
Summary :: If he drove her crazy, then wasn't it fair if she drove him crazy in return?
Lyric Prompt :: Hold your head up you silly girl look what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
-- Martha, My Dear
There was only one person Kyouraku Shunsui had ever met who could rival his vice-captain’s sheer stubbornness: His favourite drinking partner.
Matsumoto Rangiku’s tenacity was very nearly as impressive as her cleavage, and only escalated when there was alcohol to fuel it.
Case in point: Their current argument had so far lasted through three bottles of sake, and was showing no signs of drawing to a close.
“Nanao-chan is a smart girl,” Shunsui reiterated to her for the fourth time. “And gods know I’ve never been a subtle man. She’s caught on to how I feel by now - hell, she probably caught on a century ago.”
“That doesn’t --”
“Nanao-chan is also adorably strong-minded. She may be strict, but if she gets it into her pretty little head that she wants to do something, she does it, and consequences be damned. This is the woman who followed me to fight Yama-jii, remember?” His eyes were already shielded by his hat, but here he squeezed them shut anyway. “If she really wanted to, there’s no way she wouldn’t have acted on it by now.”
And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, something smacked him mercilessly in the hat.
“Nanao-chan?!” Shunsui yelped, jerking reflexively to a sitting position. “I didn’t know you were listen--”
“She isn’t.” Rangiku attempted to frown at him with her lips still attached to a sake bottle, and largely failed. “I’m just smacking you for her.”
Eyebrows jerked up into the hidden recesses of the hat. “Hey, whose side are you on here?!”
“It’s no wonder she has to hit you so much!” Rangiku shrilled, giving a drunken flail of her arms. “You really are an idiot!”
“Ouch.” Shunsui cringed and helped himself to another swig. “Somehow, that hurts a lot less when it’s coming from Nanao.”
“Honestly, Shunsui.” Rangiku stopped flailing and arched her shoulders in a somehow-graceful shrug. “Do you really think a woman like Nanao could have put up with a man like you for all these years if there wasn’t love involved?”
Shunsui gaped at her for a long moment.
I’ll be damned, he thought in wonder. She just might have a point.
Two more bottles of sake later, and Shunsui had at least agreed to listen to her plots.
“What we need,” said Rangiku sagely, “is a catalyst. The feeling themselves are already there, so we just need to find a way to bring them out.”
Shunsui waited politely.
“We can fake your death.”
“No.”
“We can tell her Yamamoto’s finally decided to exile you because you’re nothing but a lazy, drunken bum.”
“No.”
“We can drug her.”
“No!”
“We can tell her you’re in love with me!”
Shunsui snickered. “Sorry, Rangiku.”
“Aw, Shunsui.” She pouted. “You’re so uncooperative sometimes.” Then, abruptly, the pout was gone and she was surging to her feet. “I know!”
And off she stumbled, yelling Nanao’s name.
“Nanao!” she exclaimed when she found her friend a few moments later, striking what she thought to be a suitably dramatic pose. (It was about to get a lot more dramatic if she didn’t stop and adjust her top.) “Look at me! This is important! Your captain loves you so much that he isn’t willing to fake his own death, pretend to be an exile, drug you, or be in love with me to prove it!”
Nanao stared at her for a long minute, sniffing delicately. Ah. Sake. That explained it.
“Captain Kyouraku,” she called, raising her voice just enough so that she knew he would hear. “I very much appreciate you not drugging me.”
And then she went right back to her paperwork.
She didn’t catch Rangiku’s flailing (or her putting her breasts in danger for the second time since barging in), but Shunsui’s laughter still reached her ears.
A bit later, Nanao was still wading through her paperwork, but now she was signing her name with a bit more flourish than was strictly necessary, and a faint smile ghosted over her lips. I’ll respond to his advances, she thought to herself, when he finally gets it through his thick skull that he’s never needed them to begin with.
Some things were strong enough to stand on their own without any extra dramatics, after all.
(Or, for that matter, drugs.)
And when her captain staggered back into the office several hours later, now quite spectacularly drunk, things were as perfectly normal as if Matsumoto had never intervened - Shunsui made it to her desk, tried to give her a cheerfully drunken hello kiss, and whacked her in the forehead with his hat instead. She smacked him upside the head with her fan in retaliation, and then a second time for good measure when he collapsed over her paperwork.
But when she was quite certain he was in fact dead to the world, her hand crept forward and wove carefully through the strands of hair now littering her work.
She noted the darkness of it, noted its contrast with the white of the paper, and for a split second she wondered if it would be that striking splayed over sheets instead. (Then she wondered if his sheets were even white at all, or if he’d had them custom-made to match that damned haori, and she had to stifle a grin.)
Matsumoto would call me silly for behaving this way, I’m sure. But I suppose it’s only fair I make him wait, Nanao mused. Considering he’s done nothing but make a fool of himself thus far.
She smirked to herself. He drives me crazy, I drive him crazy in return. He doesn’t seem to understand that two people can play this game, after all.
And what he also didn’t understand, what Matsumoto didn’t understand, what Nanao herself barely understood - she really wouldn’t have him, or this, any other way.
And right now, she was perfectly content, and if her captain’s heavy snores were any indication, so was he.
This is strong enough to stand on its own, even if I'm the only one smart enough to realise it, and it’s more than enough for now.
Nanao watched him smile stupidly in his sleep, and when she tentatively traced the curve of his lips with the lightest of fingertips, she couldn’t resist smiling herself.
(But somewhere, she knew, Matsumoto Rangiku would be pouting.)