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There was a certain comfort that came with routine. Whether it was the menial shift of paperwork or daily training exercises, kidou practice or just an evening drink with Kira. The familiarity always coincided well with Hisagi as a person, never one to enjoy a drastic change in routine or a sudden unplanned event. It wasn’t that he was uptight or couldn’t move with changes, but rather he tended to like things as they were. It was easier to understand something you were intimately familiar with, rather than attempt to dissect something you were not.
That tended to be the case with Kensei Muguruma.
Nothing about the man was classically conventional. Whilst his style as a Captain was to be expected, bordering on that of a drill sergeant, that tended to be where the obvious ended. Though he was quick to anger, he was also just as fast to dull down to simmering rage when those he cared about were in real danger. Even if he seemed to have the worlds worst temper, he was a rather shrewd man when he needed to be and was more perceptive than anyone would give him credit for. His persistence in attempting to get Hisagi to Bankai level often resulted in rather scathing words that tended to cut deeper than they had any right to, since he was one of the individuals Hisagi respected above all others, yet afterwards he would usually help Hisagi back to the barracks in his room when he was too bruised and exhausted to stand. Admittedly sometimes Kensei was the reason Hisagi couldn't stand.
Tousen had been a philosophical and mild-mannered Captain, something that had influenced Hisagi immensely in his formative years as a Shinigami. ‘He who fears not the blade he wields has no right to wield that blade’. Those words had stuck with him, regardless of Tousen’s subsequent betrayal his philosophy had lived on in some degree with Hisagi, suiting his reluctance to lift his zanpakutou unless absolutely necessary. Kensei was a different story entirely. Unlike Tousen he was willing to ask in any capacity for help, even though his demeanour often made it more akin to a demand than a request. He would be harsh, yet his honesty offered complete transparency. Primarily, he cared about getting their division back on track with minimal problems, something Hisagi would be eternally grateful for. Then again, he seemed to be eternally grateful for most things regarding Kensei nowadays.
“If you always wake up first, why don’t you just get out of bed, Shuuhei?”
Kensei’s voice is gruff from sleep, his silver hair falling haphazardly in every direction. It’s odd to see him like this, Hisagi thinks, still groggy and bleary-eyed instead of the usual sharp intensity he carries with himself at every other time.
“You looked comfortable.” He averts his gaze, never one to maintain eye contact for too long. It was a naturally intimate thing for him anyway, but staring directly at Kensei’s eyes had his stomach fluttering and cheeks flushing in mere seconds. The man was irresistible in all the right and weirdest ways.
“Yeah, because you’re lay next to me.” Kensei grumbles, petting Hisagi’s hair offhandedly, always one to shoot out the sweetest comments at the most random times.
Hisagi wishes it wasn’t so obvious how affected he was by everything Kensei did, but it was hard to hide. He wasn’t big on lying, nor was he fond of the prospect of avoiding Kensei for all eternity- which had somehow managed to result in this. Being with him, lying beside him. Listening to his deep, sleepy voice right when he wakes up. Watching him drop to the floor to exercise every morning as part of his routine.
Of course, there were other aspects of their relationship Hisagi was less likely to openly discuss with anyone. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but he was naturally rather elusive about personal questions anyway, but when they regarded his and Kensei’s sex life it just became calamitous. He couldn’t bear to listen to Rangiku’s lewd questions and Kira’s flushed but curious stares, or even Shinji’s passing questions. They all wanted to know about their sex life as if Kensei was the one that had something to hide.
Then again, it’s not as if Hisagi had intended to be so easily manipulated by a few mere compliments.
The first time, it had been in arguably one of the most compromising positions they’d ever been in. He’d gone into Kensei’s office to give him paperwork and found the man in a simmering rage. When he looked at Hisagi, it was like he was ready to kill him, eyes burning holes into his head. Then, Hisagi only had time to be thankful that he’d shut the door after he’d entered the room, since Kensei had disrobed him with a speed and efficiency he didn’t know the man possessed. Maybe it was the way Kensei’s hands gently gripped his hips or maybe it was the way he always whispered an odd mixture of filthy and affectionate things, but somehow Kensei always knew exactly what Hisagi wanted. Then, when Hisagi moves a hand over his own mouth to avoid half of the squad running into the Captain’s office, Kensei utters the fateful words.
“Good boy,” he growls, a low thrum in his chest that is pressed firmly against Hisagi’s back, “so good for me.”
The muffled groan against his own palm has Hisagi flushing so fiercely he’s sure someone might see the glow through the fucking wall, and when he turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder at Kensei it only seems to fuel his behaviour as those eyes stare at him without ever looking elsewhere.
“So fucking pretty.” He gently bites at Hisagi’s neck, always mindful that whilst Hisagi was fine having small marks elsewhere, visible areas prompted too many invasive questions that Hisagi was both too polite and too shy to answer. “Always so perfect.”
Hisagi can barely think straight, the white spots in his vision almost making him slide off the table before Kensei’s strong arms loop around his waist and keep him upright, flush against Kensei’s chest. Kensei’s muffled groans against his neck only add to the dissonance, Hisagi too far gone to even really care about just how receptive he was to practically everything the man did.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” His words are practically mouthed into Hisagi’s neck and only fuel the weakness in his knees, the spinning in his head. “It’s always you.”
It was a good job Kensei clamped a hand over his mouth, otherwise the whole squad would’ve known Kensei was ‘thinking about him’.
The second time, Hisagi had wanted to die.
He’d been in Kensei’s office whilst Shinji was talking to him, sorting through Kensei’s paperwork diligently whilst the two spoke. When he offhandedly reminds Kensei of his training schedule with the squad in an hour, Kensei looks up and just has to say it.
“Good boy, hand me that file over there,” he motions to another cabinet, watching Hisagi barely manage to walk to the corner to pick it up before coming back and depositing it on the desk for him, “thanks.”
Hisagi wants to melt into the floor. As soon as Kensei had met eyes with him when the file landed on the desk, they’d flickered. Then he’d smirked after a brief moment of surprise and realisation, leaning back in his chair and resuming his conversation with Shinji. Thankfully, the man who would’ve usually been like a bloodhound for embarrassing situations had been looking out of the window and wistfully humming jazz music. That didn’t change the fact that Hisagi felt suddenly naked in an environment where he had been naked before, multiple times, combined with the neediness and keening that was always brought on by Kensei’s compliments.
Asshole.
When Shinji leaves, it takes everything Hisagi has to remain upright with his arms folded, waiting for his Captain to sign the paperwork so he can leave and regret his life choices.
“Why are you pouting?” Kensei doesn’t look up from his work, going through it all diligently. Hisagi is more distracted by the gentle pull of his arm muscles as he moves, the vast expanse of his exposed chest. His tattoo. “Hisagi.”
“I’m not sulking.” Hisagi replies, perhaps too quickly, being caught in not only his sullen state but his staring one.
“You’ve never been a good liar.” Kensei finally looks up, steely gaze locking onto Hisagi. He looks him up and down once before settling for just staring directly into his eyes. “So be a good boy and tell me.”
How can he not know what he’s doing?
“I don’t-,” Hisagi begins, already faltering and wishing he had the guts to just say it already, “it’s nothing.”
“C’mon, Hisagi. You’re a fucking hard worker, you never slack and I’ve never met anyone more selfless. You’re allowed to be upset about something.” Kensei says, leaning back with his arms folded.
He thinks I’m upset?
“I’m not upset.” Hisagi moves to sit on the edge of Kensei’s desk, right beside where Kensei is seated, facing him with the most resolve he can muster. “I just get distracted when you…compliment me.”
Kensei stares, tilting his head slightly before recognition passes over his expression. Then he laughs. A deep belly laugh that is rare to hear from him, his eyes crinkled. His arms move around Hisagi’s waist, pulling him onto his lap with such ease it has Hisagi weak all over again. His hands are soft as one gently strokes down Hisagi’s back and the other cups his cheek, Kensei’s lips brushing against his softly before the kiss quickly deepens the way Hisagi has been thinking about all morning. He whines a little into Kensei’s mouth, maybe he’s too needy but he doesn’t care, and Kensei pulls back.
“You like compliments, huh?” He murmurs, nipping at Hisagi’s neck playfully. “Well you better get used to them, pretty boy, because I’m never gonna run out of compliments for you.”
I have a serious problem.