Tea Kettle (fanfic, +18)

Kisuke Urahara’s nostrils were filled with the thick aroma of burning wood as he stuck the match in his hand against the coarse edge of the matchbook. Gingerly, he held it to the flammable gas pouring from the vents on the stovetop in front of him, watching with muted awe as the flames were birth.

He took the ceramic pot from the counter and placed it on the metal plate suspended above the fire. Boiling water now was a trivial matter. The microwave had turned brewing tea into a mere inconvenience, but Urahara quite enjoyed the wait that came with the old fashion method. Watching the hot tongues lap at the stoic pot, the pressure building invisibly inside it until it exploded in a shrill wail, made the tea all the more delectable.

Once properly heated, he poured the scalding liquid into another pot with the tea leaves, letting them steep for as long as he found was optimal. Before he poured it out in to the two cups next to him, he squeezed a few drops from a near bottle into the tea and stirred them in thoroughly. Satisfied, he poured out the tea into the porcelain cups. He delicately gripped them and exited the kitchen.

“What took you so long?” His guest, a customarily irritable Sui-Feng, questioned from here seat at the dining table of Urahara Shoten.

“Now, now,” Urahara chastised, setting the tea down and taking a seat across the table from her. “They say patience is a virtue, and you of all people should be used to waiting.” Sui-Feng shot him a deathly glare, but it was as lethal as pins were to a pincushion. “So what brings you here? If you are looking for Yoruichi, I’m afraid you just missed her.” He lied. He hadn’t seen her since the battle with Aizen, which was now months behind them.

“Despite what you may think,” Sui-Feng growled, “I don’t spend all of my free time skulking in that woman’s shadow.” She finally took a sip of her tea. Her eyes narrowed at the taste. It was a simple green tea, but there was a slight hint of something else.

Honey.

“Right,” Urahara agreed. “I suppose you have to step out sometimes to take naked pictures of her-“ He was cut off by Sui-Feng slamming her cup on the table. “How nostalgic!” Urahara practically squealed. “Us sharing tea and you getting so flustered at my mere mentioning of Yoruichi. Even you’re hair is like it was back then.” While she still retained her signature braids, Sui-Feng’s hair was longer now, falling in a manner eerily similar to the way she wore it over a century ago.

“I didn’t come to this miserable outhouse to be insulted or to wax over the past.” Sui-Feng growled through gritted teeth.

“I meant no such disrespect!” Urahara feigned contrition. “Those were just the gentle barbs of an old friend.” He cocked an eyebrow, now that Sui-Feng could see it under the brim of his hat. “Though that does beg the question; why are you here?”