A/N: K+ this time. And this is the last of the Seven Deadly Sins series. I'm so happy that so many of you enjoyed this little collection. I appreciate all of your comments and words very greatly. Thank you for reading and hopefully you'll be back to reach whatever other Bleach/UraYoru fics I may churn out.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach and am making no profit from this fan fiction.
Seven Deadly Sins: Pride
"I thought you wouldn't be seeing me for awhile."
Urahara stood in the doorway of his personal bedroom that he had sealed off from the pesky kids with various Shinigami tricks. Only he was allowed in this way. Or so he thought.
He was mightily surprised to enter the room and find a disheveled Shihouin Yoruichi lying on his bed beneath the clean white sheets. It made him forgot to turn on a light, and the moon shone in through an adjacent window. She had come and gone from the store like the stray cat many people believed her to be, but the last time she had left had been a month ago. She'd gone to see Tokyo and to inspect any moves Aizen might be making concerning the material world. The look on her face told Urahara she had come up with empty.
Yoruichi rolled to her side and lifted herself up on a tanned forearm. "It's been awhile," she snapped. "Tokyo was a wild goose chase. Nothing but rotten eggs."
"No Aizen," he muttered, stepping inside. "How did you get in?"
"Your window. I only got here a few minutes ago." She sent him a golden-eyed look that had weariness and agitation written all over it. "I'll leave if you want."
"It's November. It's getting cold," Urahara murmured, taking in the outline of her naked body beneath the sheets. "You've no clothes."
As he came to sit on the edge of the bed, she shrugged. "I can get fur."
Lowering himself to the mattress, he set a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. "I'm sorry that you…Yoruichi!" His black eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're burning up." He pulled his fingers away from the feverish skin near her neck only to press them to the even warmer flesh on her forehead.
"I'm not sick," protested Yoruichi at once. "It's a cold."
"It is not, it's a fever." Apparently annoyed, he went to a small chest of drawers and brought out a wide quilt which he threw over her unceremoniously. Then he went to another door opposite the one that led to the rest of the building. There was the sound of water running from a faucet, and he came back with a folded, damp cloth. When he touched it to her head, she hissed up at him.
"It's cold, Kisuke!"
"You need it," he told her firmly, catching her hands when she reached up to remove the discomforting object. "Keep it on there. I'll ask Tessai if we have any—"
"Don't. Just sit, won't you?"
Urahara only paused because he heard something in her voice; a slight, almost imperceptible quiver. He straightened from position of bending over her and seated himself once more on the bed. She couldn't stand to be taken care of, he knew, but he wasn't about to just let her go off and destroy herself either. "You never can accept that anyone might want to help you, can you?"
She was silent. Her eyes closed in the dark of the room. Urahara could see the way her long, black eyelashes glistened in the moonlight and had to fight not to swallow. "I helped you," she whispered at last. "I just don't like to think I need help."
He shook his head, drawing his gaze away from her. "You've already risked your life for me. Don't do it again by overexerting yourself. You can take it slow, you know."
She exhaled swiftly, which was a substitute for the laugh she couldn't quite muster. "Me? Slow? I think not."
What an arrogant, prideful little… But a smile crossed Urahara's face. "Why do you allow me to worry for you, Yoruichi?"
Yoruichi's eyes opened and gleamed like spots of light in the dark room. "If I had to give a reason…" Her hand, gradually growing warmer than the icy temperature it had been minutes before, snuck out from under the blanket that covered her. She rested it over Urahara's paler fingers. "It's the same reason you let me worry about you, Kisuke."
He kicked off his shoes and let it hat drop to the floor. Lifting a side of the quilt, he slipped beneath it, fully dressed. Satisfied that he was providing a good amount of body heat, he pulled his longtime lover and even longer friend against his side.
Truth be told: they didn't really need reasons to be proud of each other.