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tampered2007-06-15 12:35 am
thirdweapon.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-06-15 12:35 am
Log; Complete
When; Tonight
Rating; R - violence, language, implications
Characters; Ayasegawa Yumichika![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kujaku_beauty, Madarame Ikkaku thirdweapon
Summary; It's Ikkachika, okay?sez Ange
Log;
He meant to walk out and cool off, the average petty fight over average petty things rarely got to him, and beyond that fifteen minutes outside most always did the trick. Standing there in silence amplified by Lieutenant's soft humming as she slid her way into the City night had wound him tight like a spring ready to snap. The only thing between Ikkaku and the door was Yumichika; it should have been simple to play it off like normal and ignore his presence as he left.
It was just that there was impulse -- far superior to rational thought, in his mind -- spurring Ikkaku on as he grabbed Yumichika's arm and shoved him against the wall, the sound of his head cracking back against the surface only encouraging him as the fight came first and foremost in his mind.
Yumichika recognized the expression for what it was in time to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the impact of Ikkaku's fist. It was the sound of plaster crumbling centimeters away from his ear that jolted him into action, catching Ikkaku's jaw in a surprisingly powerful hook meant to daze.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The words snapped Ikkaku back to reality. He blinked, took in the situation without a hint of apology in his eyes. When he came forward again it was to kiss, just as violent as the first time and intense enough that it forced the breath from Yumichika's lungs.
They stumbled to the side, someone hissing as a piece of broken mirror sliced into flesh. There was more blood on the carpet, and trickling down the side of Yumichika's face where Ikkaku's hand held the back of his head, knuckles torn from leaving a hole in the wall. They broke away from each other to gasp for air, both panting as Ikkaku leaned in to lick the blood away. Then there was blood on the bed, from bleeding feet and bleeding hands and shards of glass digging into Yumichika's shoulder and Ikkaku's arm. The way one of them shuddered and the other cursed and bit down hard, it didn't matter.
***
The sheets were a stained and tangled mess, the mattress was diagonal to where it should have rested on top of the bed frame, the paint scraped away where the headboard had knocked into the wall. All of these things Yumichika took note of and filed away for later, the most pressing matter being Ikkaku shrugging into his shihakushou and making his way out to the small balcony of the apartment. Yumichika followed suit, wincing slightly as he stood before dressing seamlessly in a matter of seconds. As an afterthought, he glanced into a shard of mirror to examine the purpling bruise staining his jaw and the angry red mark just above his collarbone.
He shut the sliding glass door behind him, regarding Ikkaku's back with irritation. “You know, Lieutenant might have--“
“She's seen worse.” Came the gruff reply as Ikkaku sat down heavily, tensing as he did so that Yumichika knew he wasn't the only one feeling it.
The City lights made the ground appear as though it was reflecting the sky, a sight that only served to make him uneasy. He chanced a glance back at Yumichika, but the look he received was hardly a welcoming one, so he resigned himself to watching the polychromatic skyline of their exceptionally large prison.
“Sorry.”
He might have been apologizing for the bruise on Yumichika's cheek, for the condition their bedroom was in, for the tear in his uniform, for the stupid fucking mirror broken all over the floor. It might have been for something idiotic he had said centuries ago, or for the fact that he couldn't quite bring himself to look the other in the eye right now.
Yumichika sighed and sat down beside Ikkaku carefully, posture perfect, saying nothing as he followed his gaze out over the City.
Time passed, and the easternmost part of the sky began to lighten. They had come to lean against one another as they always did, and while it was still silent, it was not the kind of silence that wound or weighed down.
“Idiot.”
Rating; R - violence, language, implications
Characters; Ayasegawa Yumichika
kujaku_beauty, Madarame Ikkaku thirdweaponSummary; It's Ikkachika, okay?
Log;
He meant to walk out and cool off, the average petty fight over average petty things rarely got to him, and beyond that fifteen minutes outside most always did the trick. Standing there in silence amplified by Lieutenant's soft humming as she slid her way into the City night had wound him tight like a spring ready to snap. The only thing between Ikkaku and the door was Yumichika; it should have been simple to play it off like normal and ignore his presence as he left.
It was just that there was impulse -- far superior to rational thought, in his mind -- spurring Ikkaku on as he grabbed Yumichika's arm and shoved him against the wall, the sound of his head cracking back against the surface only encouraging him as the fight came first and foremost in his mind.
Yumichika recognized the expression for what it was in time to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the impact of Ikkaku's fist. It was the sound of plaster crumbling centimeters away from his ear that jolted him into action, catching Ikkaku's jaw in a surprisingly powerful hook meant to daze.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The words snapped Ikkaku back to reality. He blinked, took in the situation without a hint of apology in his eyes. When he came forward again it was to kiss, just as violent as the first time and intense enough that it forced the breath from Yumichika's lungs.
They stumbled to the side, someone hissing as a piece of broken mirror sliced into flesh. There was more blood on the carpet, and trickling down the side of Yumichika's face where Ikkaku's hand held the back of his head, knuckles torn from leaving a hole in the wall. They broke away from each other to gasp for air, both panting as Ikkaku leaned in to lick the blood away. Then there was blood on the bed, from bleeding feet and bleeding hands and shards of glass digging into Yumichika's shoulder and Ikkaku's arm. The way one of them shuddered and the other cursed and bit down hard, it didn't matter.
***
The sheets were a stained and tangled mess, the mattress was diagonal to where it should have rested on top of the bed frame, the paint scraped away where the headboard had knocked into the wall. All of these things Yumichika took note of and filed away for later, the most pressing matter being Ikkaku shrugging into his shihakushou and making his way out to the small balcony of the apartment. Yumichika followed suit, wincing slightly as he stood before dressing seamlessly in a matter of seconds. As an afterthought, he glanced into a shard of mirror to examine the purpling bruise staining his jaw and the angry red mark just above his collarbone.
He shut the sliding glass door behind him, regarding Ikkaku's back with irritation. “You know, Lieutenant might have--“
“She's seen worse.” Came the gruff reply as Ikkaku sat down heavily, tensing as he did so that Yumichika knew he wasn't the only one feeling it.
The City lights made the ground appear as though it was reflecting the sky, a sight that only served to make him uneasy. He chanced a glance back at Yumichika, but the look he received was hardly a welcoming one, so he resigned himself to watching the polychromatic skyline of their exceptionally large prison.
“Sorry.”
He might have been apologizing for the bruise on Yumichika's cheek, for the condition their bedroom was in, for the tear in his uniform, for the stupid fucking mirror broken all over the floor. It might have been for something idiotic he had said centuries ago, or for the fact that he couldn't quite bring himself to look the other in the eye right now.
Yumichika sighed and sat down beside Ikkaku carefully, posture perfect, saying nothing as he followed his gaze out over the City.
Time passed, and the easternmost part of the sky began to lighten. They had come to lean against one another as they always did, and while it was still silent, it was not the kind of silence that wound or weighed down.
“Idiot.”
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