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Renji felt shell-shocked as he and Byakuya stood in the hotel’s elevator.
Dinner was… there were no words to adequately encompass the awkward of the evening. No topic had been safe from the strange inner workings of Orihime Inoue’s mind. Renji felt weirdly exhausted from the effort of trying to keep conversation going, but he was grateful to whoever it was—Rukia? Maybe Byakuya, even?—who had finally hit on the idea of talking about the food. But, then the flood of comments coming out of her brain wouldn’t shut off. Orihime had babbled about ingredients and recipes in an increasingly excited and high pitched tone. In fact, she’d still been going on about it when they walked her and Rukia to the door.
Renji slumped his shoulders against the back wall of the elevator and enjoyed the relative silence of the rushing hum of the rising car. He stared blankly at the numbers as they lit up with a corresponding tinny ting.
Beside him, Byakuya let out a small breath. Renji looked over at where he stood in the center of the car, appearing to anyone else as though he were perfectly composed. But, Renji could tell by the way Byakuya seemed content to just watch the numbers that dinner had exhausted him too. Reaching out, Renji took Byakuya’s hand intending to give him a little sympathetic squeeze.
… And, instead, Renji felt the kenseikan shard necklace drop into his palm.
Byakuya let Renji’s hand go, leaving Renji holding the shard. Renji stood up straighter, not sure how to interpret this moment.
Had Byakuya been holding on to it throughout dinner? And why hand it over now, so… casually. They were alone in the elevator. Byakuya could say something if he wanted to. Why didn’t he? Was this, some kind of ‘I know what you did’ opening salvo to an argument/attack, or… a surrender, as in ‘here, take this, I don’t want to fight about it’?
Renji had no clue.
Byakuya wasn’t helping by continuing to say nothing, only watching the elevator make its way to the very top floor.
Well, one thing Renji had learned in all his years in Inuzuri and the Eleventh was: just because you were expecting a fight, didn’t mean there was one. You don’t got to go looking for what ain’t there, and you sure as shit don’t have to start nothing you don’t want.
So, wordlessly, Renji slipped the necklace into his pants pocket, like he’d just been surreptitiously given a payoff.
The elevator made a loud ding as the car came to a stop. The doors swooshed open. They stepped out into a surprisingly small alcove. There was only one room on this entire floor. It was the ultimate VIP suite, a place, Renji had learned from Rukia during the dinner conversation, that’d played hosts to visiting dignitaries from around the world, rock stars, and foreign kings. Probably this was their first visit from nobility from the Soul Society, but you never knew. The whole hotel had been built on decree by the Emperor specifically to house newly arriving guests when Japan first opened to the West. Renji could totally imagine an emissary from the Soul Court showing up somewhere among all those others, too. Heck, hadn’t that been about the time Yoruichi, Tessai, and Urahara went AWOL?
As Byakuya swiped the key through the door, he said, “Did you know? Soi Fon claims she has a prison cell made just for me.”
Renji had been expecting pretty much anything else from Byakuya, so it took him a second to even parse what Byakuya said. But, then it still didn’t make any sense. “What?” and then, after a beat, “I mean, seriously: What? And, how did this come up in casual conversation?”
“Oh, it was far from casual,” Byakuya said ominously. The door beeped open, the light flashing green, and Byakuya pushed it open. Cool, freshly-scented air greeted them as they stepped out of their shoes and onto plush carpeting. “We were discussing the Maggot’s Nest’s various accommodations. I had your brother moved to the cell. After all, if it is truly mine, I should be able to decide what is done with it, should I not?”
Byakuya fumbled for lights in the darkness, so Renji reached along the wall, until he found a switch. He flipped it, illuminating a large greeting area—at least that’s what he assumed the big empty space must be, because there wasn’t much in the room, only gilded-framed art on the wall and a crystal chandelier overhead. It screamed, ‘be impressed!’
“Uh, I guess that’s your prerogative,” Renji said finally, taking a moment to shrug out of the suit coat and loosen his tie. He tried to imagine what Seichi would make of a prison cell made for a prince, “And… thanks…? But, go back, would you? I don’t get why something like that even exists?”
Byakuya moved into the next section of the penthouse suite and without looking back said flatly, “You know why, Renji.”
“No, I don’t. Not one bit,” Renji said, hurrying up beside him. “Frankly, I can’t even imagine a scenario where someone thinks making you a prison cell all your own would even be a thing to do. You’re a captain! You’re beyond reproach. Anyway, upholding the law is kind of your main focus, almost to a fault, you know? I mean, I can see thinking ahead for, I don’t know, Kenpachi maybe, because… yeah, that’s a possibility, or… that super-creepy guy in charge over at the Twelfth, but, seriously, what the fuck? You? You’re like the straightest of the straight arrows! The goodest of the the good guys! What is Soi Fon thinking? Especially since I bet they’re over there retrofitting something for Aizen like mad right now, because no one saw that one coming. Fuck her, anyway. Clearly, her instincts suck rocks!”
Renji trailed beside Byakuya as he ranted, and he only half registered that they’d passed through a full-kitchen, a business center complete with a reception area for a secretary, and a dining room with a table setting for at least a dozen.
Finally, Byakuya came to a living room that had a huge bank of windows showing a spectacular view. Below them, the Imperial Gardens and the palace grounds were like a huge darkened swath among the glittering city lights that shone like stars in the night sky. Byakuya sat down on a long, comfortable-looking couch. Melted, more like—for him anyway. Byakuya actually tilted his head back until it rested against the top of the couch and looked up to where Renji stood behind him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how heartening your righteous indignation is. For my own part, I could only imagine far too well why such a thing might exist.”
Renji grunted. Gripping the back of the couch on either side of Byakuya’s head, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Byakuya’s nose. He caught Byakuya’s eye and said gently, “That’s because the bad shit always seems ten times bigger inside your own head. Trust me on this one.”
Byakuya lifted his hands and cupped Renji’s face, drawing him back for a real kiss. Upside down was kind of different, and it took Renji a bit to get used to it, but he found he liked the feeling of towering over and being held firm at the same time. It was a heady combination of commanding/commanded. Plus, it was sexy as sin to be hidden behind a curtain of his hair, like they were in an intimate lover’s bower of his own body.
With a soft sigh into Renji’s mouth, Byakuya dropped his hands and broke their kiss. “Come sit by me,” he said softly. “Let me lean into you.”
Oh hell yeah.
But what was up with Byakuya? This wasn’t at all what Renji had been expecting, especially after Eishirō’s warning note this morning. Where were the recriminations? The big fight he’d been dreading? But, Renji wasn’t going to complain as he plopped himself down beside Byakuya. The springs creaked under his weight and he flung an arm around the back of the sofa.
Byakuya instantly curled up against Renji’s side.
Pleased, if a bit surprised, Renji buried his nose in Byakuya’s hair and softly stroked the inky, silken strands with his fingers. “Hey, there, you,” he murmured into the top of Byakuya’s head. “What’s wrong?”
Byakuya shook his head slightly.
What did that mean? ‘Nothing’? Or, ‘I don’t want to talk about it?’
But not given anything else to go on, Renji just let his arm slip off the back of the couch and fit itself comfortably around Byakuya. Renji kissed the top of Byakuya’s head, and then stretched his legs out, settling in for a long cuddle. This business with Soi Fon must have really hit some big time nerve, Renji figured. Was this the thing Byakuya said he felt so much shame about he couldn’t bear to write about it in a letter?
Well, Byakuya would talk about it when he was ready. Or he wouldn’t, and Renji could still get a marathon snuggle-fest out of the deal. It was all good.
Absently, the hand at Byakuya’s back stroked the suit coat. Renji’d dropped his own somewhere in one of the rooms, and he used his free hand to undo the top buttons of his shirt to loosen the collar a bit, and pull the tie all the way off. He dropped it on the end table beside him. There was a remote on the table, probably for the giant flat screen TV on the wall across from them. But, Renji felt no need for anything other than having Byakuya beside him. He could sit here all night if Byakuya wanted. They had the whole weekend ahead of them, after all. There was no hurry. Renji could just let himself enjoy the feeling of Byakuya’s body cradled against his.
Byakuya seemed relieved that Renji asked no more questions. Snuggling deeper, his long, pale, thin-boned hand came up to rest on Renji’s chest, just over his heart, as if wanting to feel the rhythm of his breathing or the soft beat of his heart. Byakuya’s head fitted itself just under Renji’s chin.
Ah, yeah, this was all right. In fact it would be perfect, if it wasn’t for that swirling tension under the surface of Byakuya’s gigai, and the way Byakuya’s reiatsu spiked every so often, his fingers suddenly clutching at Renji’s shirt as though holding on for dear life.
What the hell could be bothering him so much? Renji was the one who should be feeling guilty. He was the idiot who’d been so thoughtless about the necklace.
A necklace Byakuya had handed back without any fanfare or fireworks or even a steely gaze.
It was clear that was yesterday’s news somehow. Something else was eating Byakuya. It must be this thing about the prison. But, why would Soi Fon’s taunt take this much wind out Byakuya’s sails? Normally, he wouldn’t give something like that another thought. It was all beneath him, after all.
Fingers found their way into hair, so much like silk. Renji took in the scent of this enigmatic man and tried to puzzle it out.
What else could it be?
Renji supposed it could be the fraternization charges hanging over them. After all, Ōmaeda had been kind of sly about implying he’d heard all about how Renji had tossed the Third Seat into the street. Maybe Soi Fon had just dropped it on Byakuya during this last visit of his, adding the bomb of a special prison on top of that and, whammo!
Yeah, maybe...
Renji was just considering other possibilities when Byakuya said, “I have so much… rage in me, Renji. I despair of ever controlling it.”
Rage? That word surprised Renji. In fact, he would have argued with Byakuya about it, but then Renji remembered what Zabimaru had said a long time ago. They’d said Byakuya wasn’t cold at all, but hot… hot like lava, boiling and roiling just under the surface. Zabimaru suggested that Byakuya and Renji were a lot alike.
Somewhere deep inside Renji’s gigai, he felt Zabimaru rumble.
Renji kissed the top of Byakuya’s head again. With a dark chuckle, he said, “Sorry, man. I’m the last guy who knows anything about controlling rage.”
“And yet,” Byakuya murmured into Renji’s chest, “Yours seems to have a more… constructive outlet.”
Huh? What was this now? “I guess,” Renji said, still pulling his fingers through Byakuya’s hair. “Rukia hasn’t exactly forgiven me.”
Byakuya lifted his head. “You were only doing your duty.”
“Heh, well, yeah, but with a few extra teeth. Bit you and all,” Renji reminded Byakuya, fingers twirling in hair.
Byakuya’s hand trailed down Renji’s chest and slid between the folds of the shirt, finding the taut skin of Renji’s abdomen. His eyes were watching Renji’s as he said, “We’ve made a lot of missteps along the way, haven’t we?”
“Does that mean we’ve arrived?” Renji gave Byakuya a wolfish smile, and, fingers curling around the back of Byakuya’s head, he stole a quick kiss. Lifting a hand to indicate the expansive suite, “This as good as it gets, eh?”
“Mmmm,” Byakuya said, fingernails trailing sharply along skin. “I hope so.”
Renji was going to make a smartass response, but Byakuya grabbed a fistful of Renji’s shirt and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. Their mouths came together hot and wet, but there was a different kind of urgency in Byakuya--something Renji had never felt from him. It was a kiss that lingered, and seemed, somehow, to explore deeper than ever before. Tongue tasted of rich, buttery food and… love?
What the tongue didn’t express, the eyes that met Renji’s when they parted certainly seemed to. There were no words, only that intense gaze. Storm gray eyes caught him up in something so deep and penetrating that sometimes Renji thought he could be completely ravished just being… seen like that by Byakuya.
Renji felt his face flush and his heart quicken.
Goddamn it, and just from a look, too.
Byakuya’s lips lifted in a smile and his fingers trailed the edges of Renji’s face, brushing at sideburns and down to his jaw line. Jeez fuck, wherever Byakuya’s head was at, it was making Renji all… melty.
Especially when Byakuya let out a happy sigh and settled back up against Renji’s body. Byakuya’s voice was low when he said, “You’re precious to me. Yet I… I’ve been so careless with you.”
Careless? All these strange words….
Oh. Puzzle pieces started dropping into place. The only other time he’d seen Byakuya even remotely like this was right after that stupid, fucked-up night at the inn when Renji had been ready to chuck it all in for someone with a better understanding of the word ‘no’ and a little more respect for him in general…
…And Soi Fon had a prison ready for Byakuya.
…‘Rage’ without a constructive outlet.
Ah.
But, there were still so many questions that Renji had to at least make sure: “What exactly did Soi Fon threaten to toss you in the clink for?”
A hiss of breath and the way Byakuya’s body went instantly rigid against Renji’s chest, told Renji everything he needed to know.
Shaking his head, Renji glanced down at the top of Byakuya’s head. He wanted to say, ‘serves you right,’ but instead he let out a long breath. Byakuya hadn’t started a fight when he could have; Renji could hold his tongue this time, too. But, he did have to laugh a little, “Yeah, your demons… not terribly useful, those.”
“No,” Byakuya agreed, relaxing a little.
How had word of their… trouble made it to Soi Fon, anyway? Renji had told Byakuya he’d been too rough in public, pulling him into the back room like that, in front of all those izakaya patrons, with his haori signaling anyone who hadn’t already guessed exactly who they were, too. The waitress had seemed pretty disgusted about the payoff for ‘silence,’ as well. Had she made her way up the Division steps and told Soi Fon everything? Or was it that landlord Renji had run into the morning after, while holding his ripped hakama in his hands…?
Cripes. Byakuya was lucky that Renji had decided not to make anything more of it. Just like Byakuya was lucky no one had stumbled across them in the alley that night….
Renji rubbed Byakuya’s back. All the while, his mind churned. Someday, Renji wanted to understand these demons of Byakuya’s better. What the hell were they about?
“Control, maybe?”
When Byakuya froze again, Renji realized he’d said that out loud.
Aw, fuck. Renji hadn’t meant to push, but now he’d said something. He did want to know, but how did you ask? ‘Hey, Byakuya, do you go so rough with me because you’re white-knuckling your own control?’ It seemed sort of obvious, anyway. The bigger question was what the fuck were the impulses he was holding back—where the hell did they come from?
Was it something equally as obvious? Had Byakuya been abused as a kid?
That thought tightened Renji’s stomach and he gripped Byakuya closer. Nobody better have touched his Byakuya like that, goddamn it. Zabimaru growled in protective agreement. Renji would kill whoever it was with his own hands.
Huh. With his own hands.
Hadn’t Ichigo said something about how Byakuya had some special move he’d only ever shown one other person before, someone he’d sworn to kill with his own hands?
Renji glanced down at the top of Byakuya’s head, wanting to ask: ‘Waited until you were a grown-up, huh? Took that bastard out with your best move, eh, Taicho?’ But, he couldn’t, because… even if Renji was right, it was probably more complicated than that and far too personal and painful for Renji to make any kind of comment on. For once, he’d actually agree that it wasn’t his ‘place’ to say anything.
Because, if he was wrong…? Well, Byakuya would not be happy with Renji suggesting something like that. His noble person being all untouchable and…
Oh fuck.
‘You dare touch me?’ Shit, how often had Renji heard that? Damn it, it almost seemed obvious now. All the restrictions and rules in bed suddenly made sense. Byakuya was playing out a need to not just be in control in a general sense, but also to be touched only as he would allow it--because someone had once violated him without asking, without permission, all while being helpless to stop them.
Which was why he’d said the one thing he could never do was ‘sub.’ Because that would be the ultimate helplessness in his mind, wouldn’t it? Especially given Byakuya’s messed up sense of consent—the explanation for which also suddenly fell into place with a bang.
It had to be true.
It even explained Hisana, in a way. Renji had been so turned off when he’d heard that Hisana had been an orian and that Byakuya ‘courted’ her via a teahouse. But, a teahouse had rules, didn’t it? On top of that, Byakuya could make very specific demands on a lover there without raising any eyebrows. In fact, Renji could suddenly see how Hisana could have been good for Byakuya—giving him a safe place to be vulnerable and maybe even start to slowly heal. No wonder her death hit him so hard.
The first thing Byakuya had asked from Renji was to be able to command him in the bedroom and out. Renji hadn’t taken that entirely seriously, but now… now it made so much sense it was almost painful.
Renji pressed Byakuya closer again.
Apparently in reaction to all these seemingly random hugs, Byakuya asked, “Is that growling you’re doing a happy noise with affectionate squeezes or are you snarling while trying to slowly crush me to death?”
Renji hadn’t even realized he was making noises. “Oh, I was just, you know… thinking.”
“Ah, yes, thinking. I should have recognized that dangerous state,” Byakuya’s tone was all smiles and amusement. Lips found a bare spot of skin near Renji’s collar and left a tiny kiss. His fingers traced patterns on the thighs of Renji’s pants. “And what are you thinking about?”
“Your demons.”
“Oh,” Byakuya’s voice was small and his finger stopped for a long moment before resuming slow circles, “What about them?”
Renji scratched behind his ear. Such a field of landmines in front of him, it was hard to know how to proceed. “I think, maybe, you could talk to me about it sometime. I think… I mean, you know I grew up on the streets, right? Heh, yeah, you might have heard that once or twice?” Renji smiled at his own weak attempt at humor. “Anyway, I’m just saying, I’m not completely unfamiliar, you know what I mean? There were always guys like that sniffing around. You know, people you think you can trust who turn out to be… uh, untrustworthy, or the ones who offer stuff and are just… ugh. Thing is, most don’t get out of Inuzuri without walking down that road at least once.”
“Guys like that?” Technically a question, Byakuya’s voice was flat and empty and spoke volumes. As did the rigid stillness of his body, “Like what?”
“Like your demon,” Renji said.
Byakuya just lay against Renji’s chest and barely breathed. “My demon is dead.”
Renji nodded. Probably a smear on the pavement, if the bastard was lucky. Renji wondered if Byakuya had enough control over the individual petals of Senbonzakura to slowly, torturously shred someone, bit by awful bit.
Yeah, no, for sure he did. This was Byakuya, after all.
“Bastard earned every bit of it,” Renji decided firmly. After a moment, he asked, “Did it help?”
Byakuya seemed to hold his breath for a long time, and then he said, “No. It was… confusing. When I tracked him down he was so much… smaller than I remembered and old and frail. Killing him was unsatisfying and I left his wife a widow and his children fatherless. If anything, I felt worse. That was one of the many things that led me to believe justice might have been a better recourse, only I could never have faced…”
“You’ve never told anyone, have you?” Renji asked softly, resisting the urge to kiss Byakuya’s head. He even managed to still his hand, and held it lightly and unmoving against Byakuya’s back.
Byakuya let out a little breath. “I can’t even tell you if it was real, Renji. It could all be in my head.”
“That’s because I’m guessing you were really little. That’s how it is with the littlest ones. Sometimes they don’t even know why they react to something the way they do. Sometimes the memories take years to fully come out.”
Anger rose up. “You think I’m like them, the used and broken children of Inuzuri?”
Renji bit back a snap of, 'What, you mean like me?' Instead, he reminded himself this wasn't personal. Byakuya clearly hated weakness so much he couldn’t even accept the tiniest bit of his own—even when it wasn’t his fault. Yeah, this was one ugly demon, all right.
“No, Taicho,” Renji said seriously. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.” And, like me, you fight like the devil to keep it from overwhelming you and bringing you down.
Zabimaru was so right.
Byakuya sat up, his face set and hard. As much as he didn’t want to, Renji let him break their embrace. Obviously, this conversation had gone too deep, too quickly. Byakuya moved over to the far end of the couch and started flipping through a magazine that had been artfully arranged on the glass-topped table in front of the couch.
Okay, Renji thought, Byakuya didn’t storm off, shout at Renji to leave, and he didn’t strike out in anger. Yet he made it clear he wanted to be left alone but not necessarily on his own. This represented so much progress it wasn’t even funny.
So, Renji reached over for the TV remote. After studying the device for a second, he found the ‘on’ button. The TV sprang to life with a little pop and the voice of a show’s host explaining the rules of some game to contestants. Renji flipped through the channels until he found some kind of serial drama about a samurai. It was stupid, but kind of funny, and the action scenes were amazing. Could humans really jump like that? Nah, it must be wires.
An hour into the program, Byakuya had inched back close enough that, though he still sat stiffly upright, he was back under where Renji’s arm had returned to the back of the couch.
“This is the most inane production I’ve had the misfortune to watch,” Byakuya remarked during a commercial, the magazine having been set aside. “How could a samurai of any rank fail to notice his wife was a ninja?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Renji agreed. “But I think we’re supposed to figure she has magic. That gramma character is shifty. Money says she turns out to be yokai.”
Byakuya made a disparaging noise. “Yokai? Yoruichi would be ashamed to count such a woman in her ranks. No,” Byakuya shook his head vehemently. “I say kitsune. Or oni.”
“Oi, it’s got to be one or the other,” Renji protested. “I ain’t taking no bet you’re hedging.”
“Very well,” Byakuya said. Though he seemed to hesitate for a long moment, he finally settled on, “Oni.”
“Deal,” Renji said offering his hand to shake on the bet.
The drama was about to start up again, when Byakuya said, “What will I win?”
Renji gave Byakuya a sidelong grin. “You can have your wicked way with me.”
Byakuya made a face. “I can have that any time.”
“Heh, true,” Renji agreed. “Okay, so what do you want?”
“I think I would like to… take you on a date.”
“Can’t you have that anytime too?”
Byakuya lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile, “Ah, but it will be an activity of my choosing. I’ve heard, for instance, that there are several fine museums in town. And, if I win this date there must be no complaining from you.”
Musuems!? Ugh, this was torture. “Fine, but I get the same in reverse. If I win, I get to take you on the date of my choosing, because I’ve heard there’s a cool amusement park not far from here.”
“Dear god,” Byakuya sighed, relaxing enough to fit back under Renji’s arm. “Grandmother had better be an oni.”