Title: And Take It All Off (Bookmark)
Author: Lys
Characters/Pairing: Ishida Uryuu/Kon
Rating/Warnings: R for heavy sexual themes, language. SRRY NO SEX YET.
Status: Bookmark 5/10, 1850 words.


a/n: still in Ishida third-person limited. Sometimes it feels like there is too much sex in my sex and not enough plot. In the meantime, as I prepare some actual action and revelations, enjoy fluff. This chapter was meant to have a lemon and some Ich-emo, but it would have been around 5,000 words all told. That is a lot longer than other chapters, so I sliced it in half. actually important a/n: note that, as you'll probably notice, this fic will AU itself slightly starting now. I will still follow KT's canon storyline as faithfully as possible, but there is no way I could flow the way I wanted to if Ishida and Ichigo never saw one another until the Arrancarc(tm).

01: Bookmark
02: I Tell Ya What, Man
03: Low-Down Dirty Thief
04: They Also Mourn, Who Don't Wear Black



The small girl who had opened the door to the Kurosaki Clinic stared up at Ishida with awe-filled honey eyes.

“So uhm, you’re one of my brother’s schoolfriends?”

“If you want.”

Ishida cleared his throat impatiently. She knit her eyebrows with concentration, running Ishida’s hopefully convincing, admittedly lengthy, alibi through her mind again.

“And he wanted to have a study session tonight? I thought that brother’s classes only started again a few days ago and they already gave you a test? High school must be really rough.”

“Perhaps.”

“He might be sleeping right now, but I can take you up to his room.” Kurosaki’s sister was utterly unphased by Ishida’s pointedly ambivalent responses. He found himself liking the girl after all.

“If you would,” Ishida said, following Kurosaki’s young sister up the stairs. The other sister was coming down the stairs at the same time; the dark-haired one. She stopped to stare at Ishida suspiciously. “He’s sleeping. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” Ishida said dismissively, his sharp blue eyes clearly radiating ‘and go away and ask no more questions of me, strange dour girlchild.’ Karin shook her head and Ishida resumed climbing the stairs without a second look, finally reaching the door to Kurosaki’s bedroom. Yuzu gave him a polite goodbye, saying she had more dishes to wash, and skipped down the stairwell.

The door was shut. Ishida raised his hand slowly and tried to turn the doorknob, which didn’t move. He glanced to his right, and then his left. Nobody was around; nobody was looking.

Ishida pulled a needle from his shoe and picked the lock silently to let himself in.

“Ichigoooo,” Kon murmured softly, the green paperback science textbook that was laying open across his chest falling off and to the floor. “Was havin’ a good dream, goway.” The mod-soul rolled restlessly on the small bed, clad in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of Kurosaki’s personally ubiquitous black boxers, blanket clenched tightly between his knees and under his chin. He stirred slowly to consciousness, wiping away a small line of spittle that trailed down the side of his face, brushing against the tiny orange-brown hairs that trailed across his chin, darker than the pale orange hair on his head.

Oh, Ishida thought, so Kurosaki has got a decent amount of facial hair. It shouldn’t have come to any surprise to him, his father's terrifying genetics considered, but apparently Kurosaki was (curiously) pedantic about his shaving habits.

A shame; Ishida thought it was rather more than a little becoming on the idiot's face.

Stalking quietly over to the bed, Ishida knelt beside it and leaned over Kon, who’s eyes were still lightly closed. He stared intently until, feeling the intense look subconsciously, Kon’s eyes fluttered open.

“If you take a nap now, Kurosaki will never get to sleep.”

“Muh,” Kon grunted, still not aligned mentally with his surroundings, sleep in his voice. “What. Uryuu. I thought you were—“

“I think not,” Ishida cut Kon off, raising a brow behind his glasses.

“Why are you here?”

“I’d like to say, ‘why do you think?,’ but that would imply that I was good at or interested in that sort of pillow-talk.” He reached a meaningful hand out to Kon’s face. Kon pulled away, blinking rapidly.

“What are—“

“Relax,” Ishida said, grabbing Kon’s head in one hand with a motherly tut, thumb of the other hand wiping across Kon’s left eye as he struggled. “You had some stuff from sleeping.”

Kon gave a final, confused push against Ishida’s arm before taking the Quincy’s advice and relaxing, fully sitting up on the bed.

“What time is it?”

“9:00 p.m.”

Slowly, Kon dragged himself out of the bed, dark silk boxers sliding up as he slid forward to reveal soft, muscular thighs, before standing. Ishida pretended not to notice, cock stirring in his pants regardless of the best of intentions. He came here to talk. Just talk. He only wanted to know what was going on between Kon and Kurosaki, to see if he could fix ‘it’ for Kon, whatever ‘it’ was, while simultaneously continuing to avoid Kurosaki under Ryuuken’s instructions, for the sake of his Quincy bow.

Swear to god.

“So I was really only out for a half an hour,” Kon observed to himself. “But you never answered my question.”

“What question,” Ishida asked, distracted by the dip of the bones along the top of Kon’s chest, where his shoulders and neck met gracefully, which were revealed by the stretched neckline of makeshift pyjamas.

“Why are you here?” There was deep concern in Kon’s voice, although Ishida was fairly sure it was worry directed in another person’s direction—he had no immediate issues with Ishida's presence, himself. Kon was still playing the part of Kurosaki, after all. It was likely that he thought Ishida would blow his cover.

“Because I’m sore and I’ve got stress injuries ready to develop in my elbows and wrists. I needed a break, you could use a talk. Indulge me.”

“But, what if Ichigo’s family thinks—“

“You may not be aware of it, and in fact, probably wouldn’t be, but I am not actually a stranger to Kurosaki. Despite the fact that we are currently not speaking to one another, I’m still legally required to spend around 8 hours a day in his presence now that classes have started again. There is nothing glaringly strange about my being here, aside from the fact that if we were alone in a room together, one of us would never leave it.” He was exaggerating that last part.

Hopefully, anyway.

“Oh,” said Kon, obviously still trying to take Ishida’s explanation all in. His eyes were still dark-skinned, and his head was matted on one side, showing a tiny peak of his scalp amongst the orange hair, where the pillow had been applying the most pressure. His lips were more chapped than usual, his fingernails chewed.

“You look two shades of hell.”

“I feel like it,” Kon quipped cheekily, being Kon. His face broke into a small smile. Ishida moved from the floor to stand in front of the other boy. He leaned in in an attempt to steal a kiss, interrupted when Kon backed away, looking sheepish.

“You don’t want to.”

“I beg to goddamn differ,” Ishida said, irritated. He didn’t enjoy being told what he did and did not want to do, in any situation. Especially with Ryuuken currently breathing down his back and doing just that sort of thing, at every chance he got.

“No, I mean, I should brush my teeth first. Something died in my mouth, I think.”

“Oh,” Ishida said plainly, quickly understanding Kon’s position on kissing right then.

“I’ll go brush.”

“I’ll come with.”

Kon frowned at him hesitantly. “Why would you be following Ichigo into the bathroom?”

“Nobody’s around. The small ones are in the kitchen cleaning up and the large, stupid one is in the clinic working. You really ought to know the office hours of your own ‘father’ if you’re going to nitpick my acting, Kon.”

Finally coerced into allowing Ishida to follow by force of vocabulary, Kon lead the Quincy to the Kurosaki residence’s small bathroom.

And by small Ishida meant idiotically tiny. He sat on the closed toilet lid while the mod-soul brushed his teeth methodically, rhythmically swishing and spitting four times afterwards.

“You know,” Ishida said, open-endedly.

“Nowha?” Kon said, finishing up his brushery and wiping his wet chin with a fluffy towel. The bait was taken.

“If you’re brushing your teeth, you might as well go the whole nine yards and take a bedtime shower. It’s what I would do.” It made perfect sense. There was no way Kon could possibly have argued with something that made perfect sense, was there?

Slowly, Kon gripped his t-shirt in two fists and lifted it over his head, throwing it onto the counter-top, where a small pool of water left from the tooth-brushing darkened the cotton fabric.

“But what are you going to do, Ishida?”

“Please,” Ishida said, rolling his eyes. “I’m getting in with you.”

Kon looked ambivalent, but clearly intrigued by this prospect of showering with other boys. The mod-soul’s infamous libido was clearly in for a penny, in for a pound—even if Kon’s conscience wasn’t. Ishida made the decision for the boy, hooking both hands in Kon’s boxers and pulling them down to his knees with deliberate slowness, enjoying the way the silk fabric susserated. Ishida liked silk. Quite a bit. Kon, getting the picture, wiggled enough to step out of the underwear.

Ishida watched Kon’s cock shake lazily from side to side out of the corner of his eye. His tongue darted out, slipping along his upper lip as Ishida looked determinedly at the ground and reached for his own belt-buckle, quickly managing to slid his pants and boxers off, followed by the Quincy-crossed sleeveless turtleneck he’d chosen that night (knowing the way it made his neck look perfectly well, having put it on anyway).

He’d come here to talk to Kon about The Issues With Their (Lack Of A Concrete) Relationship—just talking didn’t have to involve looking dumpy, that was his excuse. That was the original plan, anyway. The original plan involved chaste, hushed conversation and absolutely no form of sex at all, especially forms involving showers.

Fuck the original plan. Up the ass.

Ishida was nude in a second, Kon staring at him, blush slowly working its way across his body, starting on his cheeks, the center of his chest, his groin. Ishida slid his glasses off, folding them and placing them on the cold, salmon-pink formica of the bathroom counter. Kon eventually tore his soft eyes away, moving the shower door aside and looking nervous.

Ishida stared at his wide back. The one he wanted to design for.

“I know. It’s stupid, right? To be embarrassed about this after I, you know. Sucked. Your dick.”

Had Kon really just said dick? He had, hadn’t he.

My, my.

“It’s natural,” Ishida observed, voice soothing. “We’ve never been wholly naked in front of one another before; I wasn’t expecting we’d be tonight, either. It’s another animal entirely, than sex. When you’re naked, you’re psychologically bare also. It’s natural to feel vulnerable.” He followed Kon as he stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain behind them. The bath-tub itself burned the soles of Ishida’s feet with abrupt cold. He kissed the back of Kon’s neck gently.

"You know everything."

“You can call it intimacy, if you’d like.”

Kon settled visibly, though the blush was still spreading. He turned the water on a second later, leaving Ishida biting his lower lip as the chilly-- and then suddenly hot-- water pelted his sensitive skin. He moved forward to shield himself, sliding in behind Kon’s naked form.

Kon stared over his shoulder at Ishida as the water gradually came to a steady temperature. It was still scalding hot, but the delicious kind of shower-hot that only hurt if you made any sudden movements, forcing the aches out of you if you stood calm and still. Ishida groaned quietly. It felt nice, on the tight tendons of his over-used, mildly abused hands and arms. He rolled one shoulder loosely.

“Uryuu,” Kon finally said after staring at Ishida for a good minute and a half as they let the water get them thoroughly wet. Ishida plucked a family-sized bottle of citrus and cream-scented shampoo from the shower rack, squeezing a good dollop (sized for two) into one palm. He rubbed his hands together, first running his fingers through his own limp, black hair, and then the orange hair that belonged to Kurosaki, which was still thick even when completely soaked. Ishida was momentarily jealous.

“If we’re being intimate, that means, you, you know…”

“?,” said Ishida’s eyebrows.

“Do you like me. That way-- more than just sex.”

“I think,” Ishida said, slowly bringing Kon’s hair to a white lather with one refined, long-fingered hand as the other moved to work at his own.

“I think I really am starting to.”




I go sleeps now get ready to go to big people school again in morning omfg. omfg. spring break. come back.