August 1, 2011

Disclaimer: he probaby remembers every detail vividly. and has pi memorized to umpteen digits, who knows. Written for porn battle XII. The request was Ikkaku/Yumichika, and the prompt I chose was kimono. Do not archive without permission.

time has got nothing to do with it

"What happened to that thing you used to wear?" Ikkaku asked abruptly. "With the flowers."

Yumichika shrugged without looking up from the report he was correcting for Yachiru. "I have it somewhere, I'm sure. Did you want to borrow it?" Now he did look up. "I don't think it would suit you."

Ikkaku snorted. "Yeah, I don't think it would suit me, either." He leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out, tilting his head to look up at the sky, blue and bright and really appallingly perfect. The sky made him feel like no time had passed at all. "But I liked you in it."

"Out of it," Yumichika said, not quite under his breath, and then he stopped writing, and the feathers on his eyelashes trembled. "It was certainly better than this dreary black," he went on in a light voice, as though he hadn't heard what he himself had just said.

"Thought you said yesterday that black went with everything," Ikkaku said.

"Yes, and here in the Gotei 13 it goes with black," Yumichika snapped. "And more black."

Ikkaku couldn't actually remember stripping Yumichika out of that flowered kimono. It must have happened. He remembered Yumichika in the kimono. He remembered Yumichika out of the kimono. Fever-hot skin sticking to his fingers. Slim legs wrapped around his waist, that voice saying his name, over and over, softly.

Or maybe that was some other time.

"Leave that," he said, twitching the report out of Yumichika's hands so that a long black smear trailed across the paper. "Got better things to do."

"I'm not sparring," Yumichika said flatly.

Time had passed, after all. Things were different since they came here. There was almost enough fighting, and almost enough worthy opponents. Ikkaku would be happy to follow Kenpachi to the death, though so far he'd only come close enough to spit death in the eye. And it was true, black really went with everything.

Hardly showed the bloodstains, either.

"I'm not talking about sparring," Ikkaku said. He looked darkly at the orange collar, wondering when Yumichika had decided that black went with orange. He'd lost track of time. It was the sky's fault. Used to be he could just slide his hand in under Yumichika's hair and grip the back of his neck, listen to his breath catch.

Time had passed, and it had been much too long. And fighting was good, but fucking could be even better.

Yumichika stood up. "Where are we going, then?"

Ikkaku grinned. "How shy are you feeling?" But Yumichika was shameless, he already knew that, so he didn't wait for an answer. "I want to see you in that flowered thing again."

That gleam in Yumichika's eyes was brighter than the cloudless sky, and it made him feel like no time had passed at all. "And out of it?"

Ikkaku shrugged, wearing his best indifferent look, the one that went with everything. "Could just push it up," he said. "I always wanted to do that."

This would be something to remember.

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