Title: Picnic
Series: Bleach AU / Glimpses and Misfits
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Shuuhei/Kensei
Another one for the growing drabble pile. I had to take a break from Prospects and helping Shuuhei dodge bullets... because tanks just don't fit. Neither does dinner cooked by one of England's most famous chefs. Given his analytical approach to cooking, Heston Blumenthal would have made a great alchemist. His food is best described as 'unexpected' with creations like snail porridge, bacon & egg ice cream and resin-flavoured stardust on the menu. Some things work a treat. Others are just... odd. He apparently loves to experiment with temperature-dependent viscosity and uses liquid nitrogen as well as the more traditional heat in his kitchen. Of course, Kensei would just adore having Heston Blumenthal cook for him. (especially if Byakuya Kuchiki is paying!)
Picnic"You know I hate it when you do that."
"Yes," Shūhei said tersely, for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. His patience was taking a hit and he wondered once again why he had to come up with crazy ideas like this. He wasn't doing it to test Kensei's reaction, that much was certain. Actually, the first time he had heard that whiny tone in Kensei's voice – on the way to the airport for a surprise holiday – he had almost driven off the road he was trying so hard not to laugh
He tugged the other man until he stood in front of the open car door. "Get in." He covered the top of the silver spikes with his hand, making sure Kensei ducked down far enough to clear the edge of the doorframe, then leaned in after him and buckled the seatbelt. "There you go. All set."
"I'll get seasick," Kensei whined as Shūhei slid into the driver's seat and started the car.
"London is miles from the sea," Shūhei grinned, pulling out of the drive and turning towards the A3. "And you've jumped out of perfectly good aircraft just for fun, so I'm sure you can cope with riding in your own car for an hour while wearing a blindfold."
He didn't add that Kensei would spend most of the afternoon deprived of his sight, performing a task he'd never learned and having to trust someone he'd never met. With only another surprise as incentive. Not that Shūhei would be faring any better, but he, at least, knew what was coming.
"At least, when I was jumping out of planes, they let me pack my own 'chute," Kensei grumbled, fists clenched until the knuckles shone white. "And I got to pick the day, and select the jump zone. Not to mention check the weather."
This was exactly why Shūhei was careful to eradicate all options from his plans, of course. Because just as Shūhei tended to overthink matters and take the blame for outcomes whether he could have affected them or not, Kensei had a tendency to control every facet of his environment. He took care of everyone. He planned, arranged and manipulated events until nothing happened unless he had decreed it so. And while Kensei loved to stop Shūhei's busy brain in its tracks, Shūhei took great pleasure in arranging surprises for his partner. The unlikelier the better.
"I really should have you committed," Kensei breathed once he'd torn off the blindfold and taken a look around
Shūhei couldn't argue. The quarry looked as if the apocalypse had taken place here. Very recently. And nothing but a steep-sided crater of desolation had been left behind. Boulders lay strewn about, the sullen glint of dirty water hid shallow depressions and deep potholes alike. Streams of yellow and grey mud and swathes of gravel made the uneven ground treacherous to travel. And amid it all stood Kensei, his tight denim, soft brown loafers and brown leather jacket utterly out of place.
"What am I doing in an abandoned quarry on a Saturday afternoon?"
"Getting ready for a picnic," Shūhei said, ignoring the anger simmering close to the surface of Kensei's voice. He shrugged into the cami jacket he'd brought and pulled soft leather gloves from one pocket, holding them casually in one hand.
"A what..?"
Shūhei could see that Kensei was ready to pop his top when the almost forgotten screech of metal tracks on rocks and the cough and burnt-oil stench of powerful diesel engines drowned out thoughts and raised ghosts in Shūhei's mind. He had known this one would be tricky for him, so he focussed on Kensei's wide eyes, on the mouth that opened and closed without emitting any sound... and on the surprise that waited in the woods beyond the quarry.
"Here's the thing," Shūhei said once the two Challenger tanks had stopped and his hearing was no longer overwhelmed with the jangle and clank of abused metal. "Heston Blumenthal is cooking dinner for us as we speak. It will be served in exactly three hours in a tiny hunting lodge in the woods over there." He indicated the far side of the extensive quarry. "We have to make sure we're at the table when dinner is ready... or we don't get to eat."
Kensei's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose we have to make it across the quarry, unarmed and unsuitably dressed, while being chased down by tanks?"
Shūhei's heart beat wildly at the suggestion. He hid it by concentrating on his best puppy dog eyes. "You really think I'm that obvious? Shame on you!" He stepped close to Kensei and leaned to speak directly into his lover's ear. "How about, you get to drive one of the tanks across the quarry? Blindfolded."
"You have got to be joking!"
"Am not," Shūhei grinned widely now, excitement heating his blood. "I'll race you in the other one. Winner gets a special treat from the Maestro himself. Snail porridge, Kensei!"
Shūhei wanted to watch the golden eyes grow wide, wanted to see Kensei purse his lips while he thought before he set his jaw and accepted the challenge. But he didn't. He turned – back straight and head up – and walked across the field of gravel, dodging puddles and mud as he went, confidence in every stride as if he'd been born to drive tanks
Kensei wouldn't be able to resist. Not the challenge and certainly not the offered treat. And this...this was going to be good.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
This is what happens at the end of a week where I've barely had time to draw breath.
