That Good Night

A/N: Sorry about the quotation marks, I forgot to add them. But now they're in.

Do Not Go Gentle

“I don't see how this is going to help me.”

“Your understanding how this helps was never required. As your friend, I am acting in your best interest.”

“Right. And why does it have to be you, again?”

“Because I'm the only gay friend you have.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Now shut up and kiss me.”

We were in my living room, on the couch. I did not, at the time, know the reason, but Ishida really can be pretty devious when he wants to be. He was straddling me, and his face was closer to mine than I would normally allow; I do enjoy my personal space, you know. Anyway. He's straddling me, rubbing a certain part of his body against a certain part of my own, face next to mine, telling me to kiss him. When I don't do anything, he takes matters into his own hands.

My second kiss was forced onto me by a guy I used to hate—during an attempt to win over my crush. Whom I had already kissed. He had taken his glasses off for the occasion, and I look up into his eyes, and in them I see this burning, passionate lust; he's looking straight at me with those eyes. He should really take them off more often. I'd like to say that it was just a kiss, I really would. But that would be a lie, and I'd prefer not to. Ishida seemed to know what he was doing, and I wondered off-handedly for a moment where he had learned all this from. But thought very quickly left my mind as he worked at heating things up. I learned later—though I had my suspicions at the time—that he had a crush on me, not unlike mine for Izuru. Which might have been why he was so eager to get started with this 'plan', though I hesitate to call anything so haphazardly thrown together as this a 'plan'. More like Ishida's id taking over for a bit. I hadn't even been aware he had one before.

I say this is my second kiss, but it was much more of a kiss than my first—it helps that there was no slapping this time. Also, the rubbing. This would be classified as my first full-on make-out session. Though it was rather hot, I think I'll leave certain details to your imagination. Somebody opened the door, and before we could even register the sound of footsteps we felt her presence. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a great idea to agree to Ishida's plan. An odd combination of a squeal and laughter erupted from the doorway. Rukia.

“I-it's not what it looks like!”

“Really? 'Cause it looks like you're making out with Ishida,” she said between laughs. “But please, feel free to tell me what you're really doing.”

“It's complicated. . .”

“No it's not, Ichigo,” Ishida said. “It is as Miss Rukia says.” He was still straddling me, and I wondered how he could say that with such a straight face given the circumstances. "Though these are a mere foretaste of the full extent of my plan."

“Wait--No! It's not like that. . . Really. . .”

Rukia was doubled over she was laughing so hard, and Ishida seemed to be enjoying my torment a little too much for my taste. I decided then to apply some pressure—uncomfortable, mind you—to a certain area of his body, that I might remind him who was in charge. My action did not produce the effect I portended.

“Oh, you like it rough, do you?” Ishida teased. “I'll keep that in mind for later.”

Rukia continued to laugh. To tell the truth, I was getting pretty tired of people laughing at my troubles; it seemed to be a common theme from my 'friends'. Still trapped, I gave up my struggling. In the sincerest, most matter-of-fact tone I could then muster, I said: “So, Rukia. What brings you here this fine day?”

“Well, uh,” she began amidst still lingering snickers, “I heard about Izuru, thought I'd check up on him.”

“He left this morning, actually,” I said.

“Did he now. Did he say where he was going?”

“I didn't have a chance to speak with him. He left before I woke up.”

“Oh well. If you should see him, tell him I asked about him.”

“Will do,” I said. “And, umm, if you would just forget about what you saw just now. . .”

“Ichigo, I'll try,” she said as she turned around for the door. “But I don't think I'll be able to forget something like that so easily. But I'll try not to tell anyone, will that do?”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Actually,” Ishida said. “If you would please inform everyone you come in contact with, I would be most grateful. We need to spread this rumor as quickly as possible, if you don't mind.”

Rukia pondered for a moment. I would have said something, but Ishida had moved his hand over my mouth and gagged me with it. I restarted my flailing. “Well, bye,” she said in one last flutter of verbiage before she left us.

As soon as Ishida removed his hand—possibly during—I made to punch him, but missed. “What the hell was that for?” I demanded.

“That, my dear Ichigo, is the plan.”

“How is this a plan?” I said. “I fail to see how this is a plan.”

“It's simple. You said Izuru thinks you're too young. That translates to inexperience. Thus, I am aiding you in accumulating experience. But how does that help if he doesn't know? Thus, the rumor spreading. Unlike you,” he said, “I actually think through my actions. Getting to see you squirm is just a plus.”

He paused a moment to let it sink in. “I see,” I said. “And you couldn't have told me all the details earlier?”

“There wasn't time. And who says I've told you all the details?” His malicious grin returned in full force.

I didn't particularly care for where this venture was going, but it didn't seem I had much of a choice in the matter. Stupid friends acting in my best interest. “And do you think you'll ever deign to inform me of them?”

“Perhaps. But first, we pick up where we left off.”

He resumed his kissing me. At this point I had pretty much given up all hope of resistance and so concentrated more on actually kissing him back. The experience was interesting, to say the least. Considering my lack of experience, compounded with my not knowing where this was heading, Ishida resumed the lead. I resented that but could do nothing about it. His hands, no longer forced to hold me down, began to wander about my body, to touch places no other save family had touched. It was, overall, sensuously erotic. When his hand reached down and rubbed repeatedly against a certain area, my eyes flew open. I mewled, arched into his touch. He wrapped his other hand around my back and pulled me closer. The thought entered my mind that perhaps I was being a tad unfair in hogging all of the attention. Tentatively, cautiously, I brought my hand to press against his chest. Beneath the thin fabric I felt a slight twitch of muscle, followed by a gentle relaxing. With this single hand, I explored a small area of his chest.

It was my first time ever touching another man like that, and the thrill of it all left me craving more: the feel of his flesh beneath his shirt; the slightly sweaty tinge to the atmosphere from our combined sexual perspiration; his hand rubbing ever more violently, roughly against my groin. A whole new world of sensation had opened up to me. My hand moved around his back; my other moved to still his hand. Our faces still mashed together in an unending kiss, I thrust myself upwards and rubbed our twin erections together through too-thick fabric. O, how much I wished we could both be naked at that instant. How I wished to feel his skin, pale and smooth, rubbing, sliding furiously against my own. To feel his hand wrapped around me, and mine him. That was the image playing in my mind as we together hurried toward bliss. I could tell from the hitch in his breath, however slight, that he was close; that soon the moment would end in a quick and all-too-sudden eruption of feeling. My instinct drove me further and further, faster and faster, harder and harder. From both of our throats there came noises, sounds I wasn't aware either of us could make, sounds which served only to further my lust.

His grip on my back tightened; his hand tensed. His other hand grabbed frantically at my chest. That touch alone was all it took to send me over the edge. All of a sudden my urge to move ceased and I collapsed onto the couch beneath. At the edges of my hearing I heard Ishida sigh and knew he was finished as well. He rested on top of me.

“Th-that. . . I. . .” His breathing was heavy. “I didn't intend for it to go that far. I. . . I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry.”

All I could muster in reply was a noncommittal grunt.

“That was, uh, good,” he said. “Very good.”

Again, all I could do was grunt.

“Maybe we should change to a less compromising position,” he suggested.

“Just five more minutes,” I said.

“Sounds good.”

But within those five minuted the both of us fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark outside. There was an uncomfortable, still-gooey crunchiness in my pants. Ishida was snuggling into my chest.

“Ishida,” I said. “I think we should get up.”

He said nothing, just kept lying there asleep.

“Ishida.” I nudged his shoulder with my hand this time, and his eyes slowly crept open.

“What time is it?”

“I have no idea, but it's dark out. And my pants are crunchy.”

“Yeah. Mine too.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I can't believe we did that.”

“Neither can I.”

“Sorry if I was clumsy.”

“No, no. You were fine. Really.”

“Thanks.”

We had yet to actually get up. Neither of us seemed willing to exert the necessary effort. That's when I noticed it.

“Ishida,” I said. “Where'd that blanket come from?”

“Huh? What blan—oh. I don't remember having one there.”

“So that means. . . someone put it there?”

“Yes, I'd say it does.”

“Which means someone saw us. Like this.”

“Most likely.”

“Shit. Who do you think it was?”

“If I had to guess, I'd say someone in your family.”

“Shit. This is not how I meant to come out to my family.”

“A little late for that.”

“You're the one who wanted to do this on the couch. Just had to do it out in the open.”

“Well, at the time, I wasn't intending for us to go that far.”

“What you intended isn't worth shit now, is it? Oh God, what if Karin or Yuzu saw us? Or dad?”

“Look, maybe, um, Rukia came back by, or. . . or something.”

“Yeah right. Rukia's probably busy telling everyone about us.”

“Look. Maybe I should leave.”

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “But wait a second, will you?”

I removed Ishida from on top of me and set him on the couch. I went upstairs and brought him a change of clothes.

“I thought you might like to change first.”

“Thanks.”

He changed in the bathroom and then left. There was this pretty awkward silence between us after what we had done. Once he was out the door and down the street out of sight, I headed back upstairs to my room. My dad was sitting on my bed, and I mentally groaned. He looked pensive and motioned for me to sit next to him; I complied. We both sat there for a bit before he said anything.

“Look,” he said, “I know you're a teenager, and you've got hormones and all that, but could you please keep it in your room. I thought I'd raised you better.” He sighed.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Now, I could tell from what I saw that you didn't do very much, but, if you ever find yourself in the position, I want you to promise me you'll use protection.”

It was weird for me to hear dad being so serious, and the disparity had me disjointed. “I promise.”

He got up and made for the door. “You're lucky both your sisters were staying over with friends. If they'd seen you like that. . . well, let's don't think about that.” When he reached the door, he turned around and added, “Oh, and don't think you're getting away with it, either. You're grounded for a week. Can't have my virgin daddy eyes despoiled again.” And with that, he left.

It wasn't until after my dad left that I realized he had made no mention of my being gay, which relieved me a great deal. To know that my father didn't care about my sexual orientation—not that I had thought he would be too upset with it to begin with, it's just generally difficult to talk about, you know?—removed a good deal of stress from my life. No more would I have to hide that particular facet of my being from him. No more would there be that awkward silence while I tried to think of what a straight man would say.

When I turned to my desk, I noticed a letter sitting on it, but before I had a chance to look at it properly I felt a hollow in the distance. Eager at the chance to hurt something, I leapt up from my bed and left through the window.

But, when I got there to the roof, instead of a hollow, I found Izuru, zanpakuto drawn. “Menos,” he said.

“Another one? I just fought one last night.”

“I managed to track it here, but I can't find it.”

“I sense it here, too. It must be somewhere.”

From below I heard a truly frightening ululation. The floor beneath us cracked open and flew upwards in an explosion. I drew my zanpakuto and was barely able to block a cero with it. Immediately thereafter, from the other side, a figure shrouded in darkness lunged towards me. Steel met bare flesh in a clash of reiatsu. The force of the blow sent me flying backwards. Izuru and I both stood in midair surveying the city and searching for the attacker. From my left, there was the suggestion of a bird's wing. Surrounding and encircling us, a menacing shadow escaped all but the edges of our perception.

“Where is it?”

“I can't tell.”

It came from his left straight towards Izuru. The clang of steel rang out through the night air. The enemy persisted this time, held his ground. As both of their reiatsu's clashed, I moved in from above. Izuru stepped out of the way right as I released my Getsuga Tenshou at point blank. The cloud of smoke from the impact obscured him from our view, but the disruption caused by his movement alerted us to his survival. We couldn't see through the smoke, which seemed to be thickening. Always just beyond our reach we could sense his presence.

From behind, it fired a cero at Izuru. Without thinking I rushed to intercept it. It struck me straight in the chest. Despite my determination to see the fight to its end, my sight failed me, and I descended into unconsciousness.