Escape Route

"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.

Title:     Mission
Series:  Bleach AU / Glimpses and Misfits
Rating:  PG-13
Pairing: Shuuhei/Kensei

I'm starting to accumulate an ever increasing number of scenes that do nothing more than tickle my brain and clutter up Prospects and Job Hunt. So I've decided to just pile them into a drabble directory and leave them there until they decide to co-operate or grow up.

Mission
Kensei was inclined to ignore the doorbell.  He wasn't expecting anyone. Besides, he had already spoken to Lisa that morning and knew that Shūhei was alive.  Lisa was good about passing on news promptly, but these small nuggets of reassurance couldn't fill the void in Kensei's heart.

Nothing could, least of all the knowledge that Shūhei taking that undercover assignment hadn't been a snap decision. Neither had it been Shūhei's decision alone. They'd talked about it, they'd planned and discussed and agreed.  They both thought they knew what they were doing. But Kensei hadn't expected to miss Shūhei the way he did.  Like an eye, or an arm, or a warm blanket at night.

Nor had he expected Shūhei to be away for both their birthdays and their first anniversary.

Kensei rose with a sigh when the doorbell continued to annoy him. He wanted peace and quiet and the opportunity to mope, and whoever was determined to bother him better had a damn good reason.

"Shūhei?" The figure on the doorstep was a dead ringer for his lover. And Kensei could do little more than stare at the face he'd only seen in photographs and his dreams for far too long. "Did you lose your keys?"

Shūhei shuffled his feet and didn't look up. "I didn't want to presume," he replied eventually. "It's been three months, Kensei.  All sorts of stuff could have happened."

The exhaustion in Shūhei's voice stopped Kensei's anger before it had time to gather strength. It was so like Shūhei to doubt. He took in the tired droop to the younger man's shoulders, the dark shadows under the eucalyptus eyes and held out a hand. "Could have, but didn't," he said softly, guiding Shūhei inside and closing the door against the world outside. "I was sitting here celebrating our anniversary. I even got your favourite single malt."

"Islay?" Shūhei's tone was dry. "Mind if I have one?"