in which urahara kisuke and sosuke aizen run into an awkward problem after a fun night.
sfw/suggestive • 1k words • written for bleachweek2026 day 3 • ao3 link
Nighttime in Hueco Mundo differed greatly from the Living World. It felt empty, devoid of life, with no bustling skyscrapers or cars honking. That is the supposed charm of Hueco Mundo, Kisuke mused, the pipe hanging loosely from his hand.
He blew out a plume of smoke, watching it disappear into the dark sky. Long, calloused fingertips traced the stony balcony railing. He had to admit that Aizen had outdone himself with the architecture of Las Noches. Every room was bigger than the last, and Kisuke found himself lost at every turn.
It was bigger than his candy shop, for sure, but it also felt destitute. Devoid of any semblance of warmth, the hallways were eerily quiet, the rooms having nothing sentimental or personal inside them. In the Urahara Shoten, he could find Ururu’s drawings all over the tables or hung up on the wall, and Jinta’s toys and marbles on the floor, which would provoke Tessai to yell at the boy to clean up his mess, and Jinta would yell back.
Las Noches was too quiet. Its design could be described as brutalist.
His train of thought was finally interrupted by some noise, by the smooth baritone of a certain smug brown-haired man.
“Why are you out of bed so early, shopkeeper? Have I been snoring in my sleep?”
Kisuke turned around, smiling leisurely at the sight of the well-known traitor, ex-captain, and current ruler of Hueco Mundo, Aizen Sosuke. The same Aizen Sosuke, wearing a loose yukata, hair mussed from sleep and other rigorous activities. But what Kisuke liked the most were the purple marks emphasized all over alabaster skin.
“Ah, Aizen-san, you’ve caught me,” Kisuke lamented playfully, “You snore like a pig in your sleep.”
Aizen’s eyes narrowed like he was about to demand Kisuke use his first name, but thought better of it, instead joining the other in standing by the railing and whispering “Quiet, you,” as a retort to the pig remark.
A small pause passed as Aizen got himself situated, Kisuke’s arm coming to circle his waist.
“What brings you out of bed, your highness?”
“I could ask you the same question. And would you stop that smoking?” Aizen’s nose wrinkled delicately. “I couldn't care less if it kills you, but second-hand smoke is detrimental to my health, you know.” Kisuke grinned and puffed some smoke purposefully towards Aizen’s face, watching him writhe away. “We all have our vices. Mine just so happens to be smoking rather than betraying Soul Society.”
“Hilarious,” Aizen said dryly, fanning away the smoke. “Have you considered a career in comedy after your banishment?”
“Not really. But judging by your reaction, I say I’d be good at it.”
“You would be begging for spare change after your shows.” Aizen retorted.
Kisuke scoffed, offended. “You wound me, Aizen-san.”
“Excuse me?”
“Call me Sosuke.”
There it was. The demand that Aizen had brought up time and time again after their hookups that Kisuke loathed and would deflect away with a smile and a well-timed deflection. What was the point in calling him Sosuke? Surely it was another one of Aizen’s mind games, getting Kisuke to soften up to inevitably catch him off guard and sabotage him. He was not the naive captain Aizen outsmarted anymore.
He wouldn’t trust Aizen with his life, and Aizen wouldn’t trust him with his, either. So why would the brown-haired ex-captain insist on being on a first-name basis?
Was the sex that good? Kisuke knew what constituted good sex; he’d had intercourse many different times during this past century in the human world (there were needs and Yoruichi had volunteered to help many times as his friend), and sex with Aizen was amazing, but not enough for him to let down his guard around the man and risk a plan to defeat Aizen a hundred years in the making.
“Aizen-san…” He started cautiously, his hand coming up to fix his hat. Aizen tracked the movement of his hat, knowing the tells of Kisuke putting a distance between them and the lack of proper eye contact was one of them.
His golden eyes narrowed.
“Why won’t you call me Sosuke?” Aizen frowned slightly. “I call you Kisuke.”
“I never gave you permission to do that.” Kisuke countered, turning his head to stare at the Hueco Mundo moon.
Aizen’s narrowed eyes turned to a full-on icy glare directed towards the shopkeeper. It took him but a microsecond to go back to the cool, calculated Lord Aizen. “I see,” he replied coolly, “so after all that we’ve done, you still think we need permission to use each other’s first names.”
“What have we done? We’ve only had sex, Aizen-san,” Kisuke quietly murmured, taking a puff from his pipe yet again.
“Multiple times! Does that not count for anything? Is having intercourse just casual to you?”
“Yes!”
The silence around them was suffocating. Hueco Mundo’s black sky seemed more and more like a black hole now, sucking the passion that was present in Aizen’s bedroom moments ago out of both of them. “So…” Aizen said levelly, “I presume we determined that intercourse had different meanings when it came to our relationship.”
There is no relationship, Kisuke wanted to scream. You mean nothing to me.
However, he knew that by screaming he would prove to Aizen that there was something there, some sort of hatred or passion that could still fuel him, and Aizen would cling to that one semblance of emotion like a moth would to a flame.
Instead, Kisuke chose his words carefully.
Aizen wrapped his yukata around himself more tightly and turnt around. “Well, then. This conversation is over. You can open up the Garganta and leave my palace.”
For a moment, Kisuke debated whether to follow Aizen and try to explain his point of view, but then his mind supplied, ‘That’s what a lover would do.’
And that was the last thing he wanted to be to Sosuke Aizen.
…He leaves the tension between them for another time. A time when they would inevitably meet, although it would be on opposing sides of a battlefield.
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