Log in

No account? Create an account
19 January 2010 @ 12:20 am
[Bleach Fic] Beautiful Disaster- part 1  

Title:  Beautiful Disaster

Rating: Hard R

Warnings: Some slight gore, a whole lot of angst, naughty language, and hand jobs

Summary: Misconceptions lead to misunderstandings.


Written for Jadelioness and her prompt:


Ichigo/Ishida getting it on in one of their dad's hospital rooms and dad walks in on them. (Also, medical kink would be GREATLY appreciated :D)

Beautiful Disaster

The clinic was dark and the door was locked when he arrived. It wasn’t a huge surprise since it was nearly ten o’clock at night. He could always go around to the front door. Ishida knew the elder Kurosaki would never turn away someone in need, but that meant a risk of running into Ichigo and he would rather not. The blood was beginning to creep through his fingers and run down his hand. It looked like he had two choices right about now- stand out here all night and bleed to death on Ichigo’s doorstep or just bite the bullet and deal with any confrontation that might happen.

His arm felt heavy as he lifted it pound twice on the door. There was no immediate response that he could hear coming from inside the house so Ishida began pushing the button for the doorbell in rapid succession. There was a muffled sound of footfalls coming down the stairs and Ishida felt immediate relief.

“Yeah, yeah…hold on, I’m coming,” an annoyingly familiar voice said on the opposite side of the front door. When it finally opened, Ichigo Kurosaki stood there wearing a loose, dark blue T-shirt and a pair of well-worn, baggy sweat pants.

Ichigo’s eyes narrowed as he recognized his late-night caller. “What do you want?” he practically sneered.

Ishida could have laughed right then. It was almost the exact reaction he had envisioned in his head on his walk over. A million witty retorts zipped through his head, but in the end he settled for, “Oh, not much. I’m just sort of bleeding on your doorstep.”

Ichigo took a step back in shock. Always a little slow on the uptake, but full of genuine concern. “Oh shit! What the hell happened?”

He threw his arm around Ishida’s shoulders and gently guided him into the house, kicking the door shut with his foot. “Fuck…that looks pretty bad. My dad’s not here. He took the girls out to a movie. I have no idea when he’s going to be home.”

Ishida stopped abruptly. “Then I’ll go somewhere else.” He tried to turn and walked back to the front door, but Ichigo blocked the way.

“No!” the orange-haired teen practically shouted then thought better of that and modified his strategy. “No, please stay,” he said in a calmer tone. “Let me take a look at it. I’ve been helping my dad for years now. He’s even let me stitch a few wounds. Please let me take a look at it.”

Ishida gave the other boy a cautious stare, looking for an ulterior motive that he knew wouldn’t be there. Ichigo was nothing if not fiercely loyal to his friends, though Ishida hesitated to use that word to define whatever the relationship between the two of them was. There had been an unspoken understanding between them when they left for Hueco Mundo, but now in the aftermath of Aizen’s war, there was nothing.

The two of them had barely spoken to one another since their return. Ichigo was a ghost at school, a shadow of his former self. The sheer amount of physical injuries he sustained coupled with the imaginable causalities that rocked the Soul Society to its core took their toll on him. From what he heard from Inoue and Sado during that time, Ichigo barely left his bedroom let alone the house. There was a small pang of guilt that Ishida felt for not checking up on him, but the memory of cold steel imbedded in his stomach was something not quickly forgotten, nor was the fear he felt when he looked upon Ichigo’s ultimate Hollow form and saw nothing in its eyes that even remotely resembled the person he thought he knew.

Maybe that was what kept Ichigo away for so long, but Ishida tired not to concern himself with that too much. His own father reminded him of his promise to stay away from Ichigo on an almost daily basis. The fact the Ryuuken had been dragged into the whole mess in the end was something that Ishida knew he would not be living down for a very long time, if ever. It was the least he could do for his father. Ichigo’s cool treatment towards him only made it that much easier.

In the end, Ishida decided to follow Ichigo through the house and into the back entrance to the clinic. He was bleeding heavy enough to know that it was more than just a scratch. This was the easiest solution to his problem.

“Have a seat,” Ichigo said softly, gesturing to the cot in the center of the small, yet efficient room.

Ishida complied and watched as the other teen wandered around the small space, opening drawers and cabinets to collect the various materials he needed. Ichigo set the items down on the raised tray next to him and rolled himself over to the left side of the bed on a low stool.

“Take your shirt off,” he asked softly.

Immediate panic seized Ishida’s lungs. He knew why he was being asked this, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t let Ichigo see. “Absolutely not,” he snapped hoping it would be taken as him trying to preserve his dignity or any other prudish notion he was always being accused of.

Ichigo eyes widened ever-so-slightly to indicate his surprise at the Quincy’s resistance. “I need to look at the wound. Your shirt will be in the way. Not to mention that it’s covered in blood.”

Ah, the practical approach. Just like Ichigo to be as predictable as ever in certain circumstances. “Then you’ll just have to cut off the sleeve,” Ishida replied.

Ichigo glowered for a moment then relented. For all his tenacity during a battle, the substitute Shinigami backed down rather quickly in more intimate settings. Picking up the scissors off the tray, he carefully cut the sleeve of Ishida’s shirt off just below the shoulder seam.

Ishida was doing his best to remain stoic as Ichigo worked, but he couldn’t bite back the pained gasp as the fabric that had begun to stick to wound was pulled free.

“Sorry,” the orange-haired teen murmured softly without looking up.

“It’s okay,” Ishida replied, the words coming automatically.

The two lapsed into a strained silence while Ichigo carefully cleaned the wound. Ishida couldn’t help but marvel at how gentle the other boy’s calloused hands were. It brought back memories of comfort and pleasure that seemed like a lifetime ago. But he didn’t dare let him mind linger there too long. It had been a mistake. They both knew it and circumstances were different now. There was no going back-- no matter how much he may have wanted it deep down in the cloistered part of his heart he locked away from the rest of the world.

“This is no Hollow wound.”

The sudden sound of Ichigo’s voice split the silence like an axe. “Excuse me?”

Ichigo sat up straight to meet the other’s eyes. “This wound. It wasn’t caused by a Hollow. There’s usually a residual trace of reiatsu. I should know; I’ve had plenty of them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looked like a knife wound. You want to tell me what happened?”

“No, not really,” Ishida responded coolly. He was in no mood for this fishing expedition.

Ichigo slammed the gauze he was holding back onto the tray. The resulting clatter nearly knocked the whole thing on the floor. He frowned when Ishida flinched. “Do you trust me?”

That was a loaded question if he ever heard one. Just how far did he trust the other teen? Would he trust Ichigo to have his back in a fight? Absolutely, but that didn’t change the fact that ever since Hueco Mundo things were different. It was true that he had been avoiding the Shinigami since their return and it wasn’t due to his father’s influence. “Yeah…I guess,” he answered cautiously.

Dark blue eyes met and were held by ruddy brown. “Good,” Ichigo said with what Ishida took to be a vague annoyed tone. He then looked away as he gently clasped both hands onto Ishida’s forearm.

Ishida could feel the reiatsu slowly building. It wasn’t erratic or uncontrolled as is usually the case. The spiritual energy was definitely focused at Ichigo’s hands rather than through a conduit like his zanpaktou. The hair on the nape of his neck rose. He didn’t like this one bit. “What are you doing?” he snapped and tried to pull his arm away.

“Relax, will ya?” Ichigo said, again with the annoyed tone. His grip tightened enough so that the dark-haired teen couldn’t yank free, but not hard enough to cause any more pain. “It’s something Hanataro taught me to help heal my wounds fast, well, faster when no one else was around to help. The cut is deep enough to need stitches, but since my dad isn’t here I figured this was the next best thing.”

Healing? Ichigo was healing him? From what he understood of the Fourth Division, it took years to master the healing arts because it not only required the user to be able to focus and direct their reiatsu with pinpoint accuracy, but to also draw out the injured person’s own energy and utilize that as well. As far as he could tell, Ichigo wasn’t drawing anything out of him, but to his utter astonishment the wound began to close. It started with a tugging sensation that quickly progressed in to a burning feeling. Panic set in. “Ah…is it supposed to hurt like that?”

“Yeah, I guess…I don’t really remember,” Ichigo said without looking up.

The burning pain intensified as though someone were cauterizing the wound with a soldering iron. “Ah…fuck! That really hurts, Kurosaki. What the hell are you trying to do?”

The substitute Shinigami didn’t answer. A look of determined concentration settled over his features. Amazingly, the pain began to ebb a few moments later and when Ishida looked down, there was only a faint red line where an open and bleeding wound had been minutes earlier.

“That should do it,” Ichigo stated. He was slightly winded. “I can’t make it disappear like Inoue, but it should heal completely in a week or two.”

Ishida didn’t know what to say. He pushed the glasses up on his nose nervously and muttered a “thank you.” When he met Ichigo’s eyes, they looked heartbroken…as if he was expecting something more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped off. He didn’t want to stick around and run the risk of a bigger confrontation. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now.”

Ichigo said nothing. He just kept staring at the other boy with an expression the Quincy didn’t want to deal with or take responsibility for causing. Ishida had turned and was about to walk out of the clinic when the taller boy was suddenly right behind him. Strong arms wrapped around his chest, preventing him from moving.

“Don’t go.” It was the small voice of a child who was afraid and lonely.

“I have to. I can’t stay.”

“Why?” Ichigo whispered in his ear.

“It’s better this way. You and I both know it.” Ishida was doing his best to stay stern, but the despair that was practically radiating off the other boy made him feel like such a heel for trying to run away.

The grip on Ishida’s chest tightened. “I need you. Everyone’s left me. I’m all alone.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Kurosaki. Sado-kun and Inoue—“

“Chad and Inoue came by for the first few weeks and then they back off too!” Ichigo growled. “Everyone did. It’s like they all didn’t know how to deal with me afterwards…like they were scared of me.”

That took Ishida by surprise. He hadn’t given any consideration to the fact that others, who had no reason to fear Ichigo…not like he did, would bail on him.

“That’s not true. They are your friends, they wouldn’t—“

“But they did!” Ichigo interrupted again. “And you were the worst of them all. They at least did it with smiles, but you threw me to the side the moment we got back. Even after what we shared…I thought we had something special.”

Ishida felt his stomach bottom out. Ichigo’s reiatsu began to feel unstable once again, but not in his usual way. Fear seized his chest. Something was very wrong here. “Now wait just a goddamned second…” he started to argue, but the chance to plead his case never came. There was a sharp pain in his neck and then his body refused to obey his command to stay upright. He crumpled into a heap at Ichigo’s feet. Just before everything went black, he looked up at the other boy standing over him with a syringe in one hand and a scowl on his face.

“I’ll show you, Uryuu…I’ll show you how serious I am.”

TBC in part 2...

Franfranwi on January 20th, 2010 04:40 pm (UTC)
Yikes! LOL I haven't been keeping up with Bleach, so I'm not exactly sure what future events are implied or canon, but I like how Ishida has distanced himself from Ichigo once again, after what sounds like a rather cruel encounter. That sense of fear doesn't seem unwarranted either. Sounds like Ichigo's in a lonely, desperate place and wants to hold on to Ishida, whether Ishida is inclined or not! ;)