Uryuu’s head is swirling by the time Shiro brings Getsuga back to earth, promises and hopes and maybes mixing together until he barely knows which way is up. Everything’s gone well, gone better than even his wildest dreams, and Shiro’s promised to get him a flying mount and support his transfer into the Flying Knights.

A distant, dark part of his mind lingers on every way this could go wrong, especially if this, if they, doesn’t work out, but…

But for once in his life, Uryuu shoves it aside. He wants this. He wants this so much it aches and Shiro’s just… offering it to him. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

He accepts Shiro’s help down from Getsuga’s back and slumps against Shiro’s chest with a wince, legs cramping and heat rising in his cheeks.

“Ah, whoops, sorry ‘bout that,” Shiro says in embarrassment. He holds Uryuu up and helps him take a few steps to stretch his legs out. “Been a while since I took anyone up. Sometimes I ferget how awkward th’leisure saddle is fer a second person.”

“I enjoyed it, though.” Encouraged by Shiro’s smile, Uryuu reaches out and brushes aside several strands of Shiro’s snow white hair. Shiro’s hair is wind-mussed and wild and just as soft as it looks, and it takes all of Uryuu’s self-control to resist running his fingers through it again and again. “Thank you for taking me up.”

“Yer welcome,” Shiro rumbles, gaze fixed on Uryuu’s face and foxfire flickers of magic dancing through his hair.

Uryuu dares to move his hand, catching one small spark of blue-black fire between his fingers. It burns and sings to his senses, making his skin prickle and his own magic rise to the surface. His magic is sluggish from disuse, thick like molasses and cold as ice, but it still soothes the burn and begins to synchronize with Shiro’s power.

“Careful…” Shiro catches his wrist and tugs, bringing Uryuu’s hand away from his hair and the wild magic coating it.

Uryuu tears his gaze from the captured spark of magic. Shiro’s eyes are bright with concern that makes Uryuu’s breath catch in his throat. He closes his hand over the spark, absorbing Shiro’s magic with little struggle and turning his wrist in Shiro’s grip to reveal his empty, unwounded hand. “My lord’s power will never hurt me,” Uryuu murmurs.

Shiro’s grip tightens and his eyes gleam with emotion. He pulls Uryuu closer, free hand settling on Uryuu’s waist. “Beautiful. Y’beautiful man… m’bold lil archer…”

Cheeks burning from Shiro’s words and mind still buzzing from everything, Uryuu gives in. Shiro is so tempting and right there…

He closes the remaining gap. Presses a kiss to Shiro’s lips.

Shiro makes a soft noise and kisses back, hand tightening on Uryuu’s waist. His magic curls inward, teasing at Uryuu’s own and drawing it out. It’s addictive. The kiss, the play of their magic, the feel of Shiro against him…

Uryuu pulls away and licks his lips, taking in Shiro’s appearance. A blush stains Shiro’s cheeks and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. The little flickers of foxfire have grown, fire and lightning playing across Shiro’s hair and across his shoulders, teasing at Uryuu’s restraint.

It makes Uryuu want to lean back in and kiss him again, makes him want to see how wild he can drive his lord.

(His own magic hasn’t reacted so strongly to someone else in years.)

“Very bold,” Shiro says with a pleased smile, releasing Uryuu’s wrist and brushing his fingers over Uryuu’s cheek. “I like it.”

“Good.” Uryuu takes a breath and steps back, putting space between them and wrangling his magic back beneath his skin. It’s reluctant to settle, slipping from his grasp and reaching towards Shiro again and again.

Shiro’s smile grows and he reaches out, catching a thread of gleaming silver magic between his fingers. “Y’look good like this.”

Uryuu wrinkles his nose and adjusts his glasses, scrambling for anything to say in response. His silence only serves to turn Shiro’s smile fond, which stalls his brain further; fond is a very good look on Shiro.

(He wants that look aimed at him for the rest of his life.)

(He’s so doomed…)

“Y’free ‘gain t’morrow?” Shiro asks, giving Uryuu a break by changing the subject.

“Ah… yes. I am.”

“Y’wanna check out th’stables an’ dens?”

Uryuu considers the offer. It’s true that he doesn’t have the time to accustom himself to a new type of mount, much less have the time to convince a wyvern that he’s a worthy partner, but there’s no harm in looking. If he finds a potential mount, there’s always the option of bringing his new mount to the front lines whenever he’s deployed and working with it there. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Shiro grins. “This mean I get t’tell Aibo that I’m poachin’ ya?”

He smothers a laugh and nods, a lightness in his chest leaving him giddy. Ichigo is a good leader and Uryuu’s enjoyed his work as a Knight, but his dreams have always been filled with flight and the sound of wingbeats.

(Of being less like Ryuuken and more like his mother.)

(And now he can.)

“Hell yeah!” Shiro cheers. “Let’s meet up after breakfast! I’ll tell th’masters t’expect us.”

“That… sounds good. Thank you for… all of this.” Training and experience aside, he’s going to have trouble sleeping tonight, he knows it. Maybe he’ll ask Urahara for a mage-battle this evening; at the very least, it would help settle his power once more. “Where shall we meet?”

“How ‘bout here?” Shiro suggests. “We can take Getsuga t’reach the dens then back t’the stables.”

“Then I’ll meet you here after breakfast,” Uryuu confirms.

(He truly cannot wait.)

(A chance to claim a flying mount and to spend more time with Shiro.)

(He’d be a fool to pass this up.)