Kira wakes to the sound of rain for the sixth day in a row, and turns his head into his pillow with a groan.

He can hear the steady sound of raindrops hitting the roof tiles, and wonders if there might be a time in the near future when his umbrella is not required. The days run together in a misery of cool rain and humid air, and he's reminded all over again why he hates the rainy season.

He thinks briefly, longingly, of skipping off, but he's never called in under false pretences in all his years in the Gotei-13, and he doesn't imagine he's going to start now. There are training drills to be led today, which means he is going to be wet and cold for a very long time. Headquarters will be damp and miserable, and Ichimaru may very well play hooky himself, leaving all the work to Kira.

No, he thinks, there's too much work to do to even think about being delinquent. He has responsibilities, and he needs to get up and get ready for the day.

But maybe five more minutes in bed wouldn't hurt anything.

He isn't late leaving his quarters, precisely, just much later than is his habit. Which is to say, he rounds the corner just in time to see Ichimaru slide his own door shut on his way in to the division.

"Good morning, Ichimaru-taichou," Kira calls out.

Ichimaru turns his head in Kira's direction. "Morning, Izuru," he says, the corners of his lips turned up in their usual smile. "How many rainy days in a row does this make, I wonder?"

Kira steps closer, umbrella and bento hanging from one hand. "Six, I believe."

Ichimaru's smile widens a little. "Poor Izuru always knows how many days we've been without sun," he says. "Rain makes your hair all frizzy-like."

Kira doesn't startle when Ichimaru strokes a hand through his hair. He remembers, distantly, a time when this kind of behavior shocked him and made him uneasy. But it's been years and years, and he leans into the feel of Ichimaru's fingers sifting through strands of his hair and rubbing his scalp. He doesn't pretend that he doesn't want this, not anymore. So he says merely, "It's the humidity. There's no help for it."

Ichimaru chuckles a little, his hand sliding down to grip the nape of Kira's neck. "We could stay home today."

Kira dares to furrow his brow a little in disapproval, because he knows it amuses Ichimaru when Kira scolds him. "You know you have that meeting with Yamamoto-soutaichou today. We have to go."

Ichimaru runs one fingernail down the back of Kira's neck, and Kira shivers in response. "Not if I order you to stay," he says, his voice a silken purr.

It's terribly, terribly tempting to give in -- Kira knows that if he slides onto his knees and says please, Ichimaru will have him on his back in Ichimaru's bed, clothes off and legs in the air before he knows what's happening. And he's stopped pretending he doesn't want that, either, but there's a time and a place. "Taichou," Kira sighs finally, admonishing.

And that's part of the game, too, because Ichimaru wants him to surrender -- will make him, probably before the day is over -- but Ichimaru is more entertained when he has to work for it. He likes Kira's resistance, even if it's largely scripted at this point, likes Kira to say no, no, no before making him say oh god, yes.

"So dedicated," Ichimaru says, and Kira isn't sure that's a compliment, especially when accompanied by that almost imperceptible narrowing of Ichimaru's shuttered gaze. "But how fortunate Izuru slept in a bit -- I seem to have lost my umbrella."

Kira knows perfectly well that Ichimaru has done no such thing, and instead of responding to the bait about sleeping in, Kira offers him the umbrella handle.

The way that Ichimaru grasps it is flirtatious bordering on obscene, so that Kira isn't all that surprised when Ichimaru opens the umbrella and then tugs Kira under it, arm around Kira's waist and fingers pressed bruisingly into Kira's hip.

"Shall we?" Ichimaru asks, all solicitousness in his voice but something entirely different in his eyes.

Kira knows that his division needs to be accustomed to fighting in all kinds of weather, that Hollows do not restrict themselves to sunny days of moderate temperature. Still, as he pushes his sodden bangs out of his face for the umpteenth time that morning, he thinks he's going to reconsider scheduling drills during this month. He knows his subordinates are having a much rougher time, in that they are the ones actually training in this weather, and Kira is just scrutinizing their progress and stalking around the training field, his tabi squelching with every step.

His third seat, Maeda, trots over from headquarters, an umbrella over his head. "Kira-fukutaichou! Do you know where Taichou is?"

Kira raises his eyebrows. "He's in a meeting with Yamamoto-soutaichou."

Maeda gives him a frustrated grimace. "Old man Yamamoto just sent over a runner to ask where he was."

Kira shuts his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. "I'll go find him. Please send the runner back with a message that he's been...unavoidably delayed."

"Yessir," Maeda says.

He swears Ichimaru only does these things to make his life difficult.

Kira is most emphatically not in the mood for yet another rousing game of hide-and-seek, and he can't for the life of him think where Ichimaru has gone.

Normally Kira would check the roof over their office first, but Ichimaru isn't the masochistic one in this relationship, and would never be caught dead out in this weather given the choice.

He isn't in his quarters, he isn't visiting Aizen, he's not in the commissary wheedling red bean pastries out of the staff. Nor has he gone to bother the tenth division, or the sixth, for that matter.

Kira's clothes are still wet, his tabi are squelching with mud, his hair doesn't even bear mentioning, and he's cold and tired and still hasn't eaten the bento he packed this morning. He's officially had it -- he should have stayed home in bed. Instead, he turns around on his heel and heads back for the third, to finish his paperwork for the day and go home. He doesn't know what Ichimaru will do, or if he'll even do anything, if Kira gives up looking for him. Maybe Ichimaru went to the meeting after all, and was just a little late.

Kira doesn't think there's much of a chance of that, but it could happen. Maybe.

Ichimaru is asleep on Kira's bed. His captain's coat is folded neatly beside him on the floor, his sandals probably properly stowed away in the cupboard near the door.

Kira watches him sleep for a moment, somewhere between completely exasperated and curious. It isn't that Ichimaru has never paid visits to his quarters before -- but generally, the point of these visits is to harass Kira, not to take a nap (except for the post-coital variety). His quarters as a vice-captain are definitely better than his days as a no-seat, but Kira has always leaned toward the comfortably familiar in terms of decor, although there were certainly objects of art and value he could have brought from his family's house. Still, he'd never felt the need, and preferred simplicity over clutter. The futon Ichimaru is sleeping on is standard-issue, the quilt overlaying it a family hand-me-down that Kira has never been able to part with, despite having to restitch the seams a few times.

Kira's clothes are not dripping, but they are still damp and uncomfortable, so he walks as quietly as he can to his bathroom and strips them off, sparing a grimace at his tabi -- probably beyond saving, at this point.

It's then that he notices the cover is on the bathtub, which is strange -- he remembers leaving it off after he scrubbed it out the other day. When he lifts the cover up, he sees the tub is full, steam curling off the water. He stares at it in bewilderment for a moment, because he doesn't understand what possesses Ichimaru to do these things. Why make Kira run from division to division in the steady rain while looking for him, and then turn around and run a bath for Kira's eventual return?

It is possible, Kira thinks as he sits down on the stool beside the tub to scrub himself clean, that Ichimaru ran the bath for himself, and Kira is merely an afterthought. But it seems more likely that this is one of Ichimaru's odd fits of generosity, which Kira can no more predict than Ichimaru's equally odd fits of quiet violence.

When Kira lowers himself into the bath, he sighs and waits for the heat to fully penetrate his muscles and relax him. It's just what he needed after today, and even if he doesn't know what makes Ichimaru do these things, he's at least thankful that Ichimaru does occasionally see fit to do them.

"Starting without me?" Ichimaru says from the bathroom door, his voice still husky from sleep.

Kira doesn't jump, even though Ichimaru did surprise him. "Just testing the water," Kira says, hoping that Ichimaru isn't actually irritated. "Shall I wash your hair?"

Ichimaru waves him off, and casually strips out of the standard black shinigami uniform. Kira looks because he can, because some days he's still surprised that his captain would choose to share this with him, of all people. He watches Ichimaru briskly shampoo his hair, bangs sticking to his forehead after he rinses, watches him pass a soapy cloth down muscled arms that have held Kira so tightly it hurt. When he's finished, he pads over to the tub, his feet slapping against the wet tile of the floor. "Scoot forward," Ichimaru says, and these things are never suggestions.

The tub overflows when Ichimaru slips in behind him, his legs sliding around Kira's body. This is familiar and comfortable -- Ichimaru likes his creature comforts, likes good alcohol, good food, a good bath, and a good vice-captain. Kira is starting to wonder if he should have brought some sake in with him when Ichimaru pulls Kira closer and starts licking his neck, pointed strokes of Ichimaru's tongue followed by sharp teeth. With Ichimaru, everything is always a little more than Kira wants, but not enough that he's willing to say no. The bruises on his wrist, both fading and fresh, are fingerprints upon fingerprints, and the ones on his hips come with the memory of Ichimaru breathing hard in his ear. The love bite Ichimaru is currently working on is going to be horrendous, and Kira knows that Ichimaru has positioned it carefully -- above his collar and not on the side where Kira's hair might be induced to cover it.

Kira pulls weakly from Ichimaru, only to have one of Ichimaru's arms clamp solidly around his torso. "Doesn't Izuru appreciate everything I do for him?" Ichimaru murmurs between stinging bites and sucking kisses.

"I--please," Kira moans, and angles his neck closer to Ichimaru instead of trying to escape.

He thinks, for a moment, that he can feel Ichimaru smiling against his skin, that sly little smile that he's come to love and fear the most.

"Kneel up," Ichimaru says, pushing at Kira's hips, and with a brief tangle of limbs, Kira is bracing himself by grabbing the rim of the bathtub, and Ichimaru is behind him, grabbing the small jar that Kira has taken to keeping on the ledge of the bathtub out of self-preservation and a fundamental dislike for using soap for this particular activity.

Before long, Ichimaru's hands are overlaying the bruises he's left before on Kira's hips and water splashes over the edge of the tub in small, rhythmic waves. Kira feels like he's spent this whole day being drenched, trying to tread water with Ichimaru but always sinking just a little, but whatever his frustrations and worries, this feels -- oh god -- so good. And maybe the water's too hot but it's too late to tell Ichimaru to stop, and Kira doesn't want him to stop anyway. He feels Ichimaru's humid breath against his neck, hears the appreciative groans that fall from his lips, and Kira knows that Ichimaru takes pleasure in him, and that's more than enough for him, Ichimaru keeps things that please him, hoards them, he'll keep Kira if he's good enough --

Kira comes in the grip of his own fist into the water, and feels Ichimaru thrust into him a few more times, short and rough strokes until Ichimaru presses all the way in, arms encircling Kira's torso and clutching at him so tightly that Kira doesn't know where he ends and Ichimaru begins, wonders who he is without Ichimaru inside him, around him, everywhere.

Ichimaru withdraws carefully. "Ah," he says, and that's the voice of contentment that Kira is always aiming for, no matter what they're doing for. "What shall we have for dinner, I wonder?"

Kira's not entirely sure he can stand at the moment, let alone cook, but he'll have to come up with something.

Lying together on Kira's futon, Ichimaru moves his hand in slow, meandering circles against the small of Kira's back. Kira's offered before to acquire a wider futon, so that Ichimaru would room to spread out, but Ichimaru dismissed the idea without hesitation. Kira is glad, because he likes being crowded together, likes that he's pressed against Ichimaru no matter which way he turns. Ichimaru likes to pull him close, likes to stroke his fingers through Kira's hair, and in the frozen depths of winter he'll sleep with Kira almost every night, curled around Kira's meager warmth. When the summer months come, he sleeps nude with Kira on some nights, when a soft breeze comes in just right through the window. Tonight, the damp air has a slight chill to it, so that they are both wearing soft yukata and Kira is resting securely in Ichimaru's embrace.

"It's stopped raining," Kira observes quietly.

"For the moment," Ichimaru says.

And that's really the best Kira can hope for. He's become accustomed to adapting to the things he can't change, and the weather is only one such example.

"Are you tired?" Kira asks, fighting to keep his eyes open. "You slept earlier."

"Mm," Ichimaru says noncommittally. "Izuru had a long day today. Go to sleep."

Kira thinks his long day is largely Ichimaru's doing, but he knows better than to argue, and better than to ignore an order. Just as he's drifting off in the circle of Ichimaru's arms, he hears the rain start up again, a soft patter against the roof that blends with Ichimaru's soft breaths in his ear, and then he's fast asleep.