Kurosaki Ichigo

Indie Kurosaki Ichigo blog Selective multi-ship This blog may contain triggering material and nsfw content read rules before interacting

[ichxgo]

I am not what has happened to me. I am what I choose to become Rules |☠︎︎| Bio |☠︎︎| Ask Independent Kurosaki Ichigo from the manga bleach, 18+, oc friendly, partially active, written by Ash ❤︎₊⊹

[icecreamwithjackdaniels]

Carl Frederik Sørensen (Danish, 1818–1879), "Danish Ships in Rough Seas" (details), 1877

[the-pallid-king]

A brow arches over a skeptical expression. "Yeah? What can you cook?" Ichigo probably can cook in that he can read the directions on instant roman and produce something edible. You can't risk your life if you're starving to death. Clearly he was eating something before they got back together. "Fine. You practice your housewife duties in your cute little apron while I'm gone, just don't set my house on fire."

Nothing is exactly the type of answer he expected and he laughs a little, amused anyway. But the revised answer has him looking over. Those are two very different answers. "A suit?" That's damn near the most dressed he could be, the exact opposite of naked. "Like with a tie and everything?" He motions, sort of plucking at one sleeve, "Cufflinks?" He's kind of intrigued. "What color suit?"

He shrugs, thinking a map is just as good as calling the police, but his interest in this really only extends so far as it being something Ichigo feels strongly about. He thinks it's vile, for sure, but he's not the vigilante type. He wouldn't be getting involved at all, not even just to think about it, if it weren't for Ichigo. So when Ichigo brings up the condition he may or may not come out of this engagement in, his attention snaps around and he pins Ichigo with a look that is both blank and not at all blank. "That's not an option. Do better."

Ichigo's right, but he rolls his eyes anyway. "Accepting it after I've asked my questions is still acceptance."

Ichigo's nervousness is so unexpected, Shiro practically itches to get his hands on that rap sheet and all the little notes that didn't make it into said record. It kind of reminds him of how they met; in a place Ichigo shouldn't have been, finding a person he wasn't supposed to be looking for. "Kind of a shame you didn't stay buddy buddy with 'em. It comes in handy." There's the hint of a grin in his voice about Ichigo finding his mom's killer, "I'm sure you did."

He laughs, and all in good fun calls Ichigo a, "Freak." even though he doesn't think Ichigo's a freak at all. He also doubts Ichigo's into him stalking him on his runs, or any of his day to day activities for that matter.

Aaaaand there it is. He rolls his eyes and levels a serious look at Ichigo. "Ok let's just pretend for a second I decided running was fun. Don't you think I'd actually, physically keel over and die if I tried to run with you right now? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a mess." Detox aside, he really fucked himself up with all the drugs. He doesn't trust his stamina without the adrenaline of a fight or some other threat to give him a boost. He arches a brow. "The bushes? I don't think I like twigs in all my most vulnerable places, so maybe the hood of a stranger's car or something instead. Or my car, since I'll be driving it while you run."

That makes it all the more horrifying. People are supposed to be afraid of him, dammit. He scowls, but there's no heat in it. "Don't they know who I am by now? Goddamn I was in the news and everything."

He's made a living off of reading people. (Ok, well partly. Reading people is part of his job.) He doesn't miss the careful eye Ichigo keeps on him like a chaperone who expects their charge to get into trouble. He ignores it -for now- in favor of greeting the old man who clearly recognizes them, as follows to a quiet spot. Once they're seated and the old man has given them a moment to decide what they want, he looks at Ichigo. "I'm not gonna do anything. I don't have anything hidden up my sleeve. I don't have the energy to bolt, and even if I did run, where would I go? Home? You have a key. I'm resigned to my warehouse fate."

[ichxgo]

He squints. “I make a killer sandwich, ass.” He’s also good at swiping his Suica card at the convenient store. But how the hell does Shiro do this to him? Ichigo wavers again in the face of that less than subtle reverse psychology, torn between stubbornly insisting he’ll cook and backing out entirely because he just somehow got designated a diminutive in their relationship, and he’s a little worried that the joke might stick. He slides down some in his seat. “If I set fire to something, it’ll be intentional.”

He hadn’t been thinking of a tie but now he is. His lids lower, eyes lingering at Shiro’s throat. “Yeah. Like with a tie and everything.” The tugging gesture sends a shiver work across his skin, prickling nerve endings to life with just the idea of it. He can’t even tell if Shiro is plucking those strings on purpose. He nids, licks his lips slow. Can’t think of a single color that wouldn’t look perfect on him. “Something dark.” He exhales a warm breath. “Alright you’re going to have to stop or we’re going back to the car.” And they’ll be very late. 

He flinches at that look. Can’t hold those eyes. So his own gaze coasts to scan their surroundings. “Not like the last time.” Probably. There’s always a chance. “People you rescue can get clingy. The last thing I need is someone taking me to a hospital.” Everything will be harder if he’s in bad shape. He sighs. “I can take someone to pull me out if I need it.” Shiro comes to mind immediately, but he’s so easily recognized. If anyone saw him, they’d likely know him right away. Maybe Ichigo could get him to stay in the shadows somewhere. 

He waves an assent. Fair enough. Shiro’s accepted. For the moment at least.

“I can’t stay buddy buddy with them when we were never friends in the first place. If I was nice they’d know right away I was full of shit.” But that does snag his attention. He kind of wonders if that means Shiro is staying buddy buddy with his cop, too. “Speaking of which, it wouldn’t hurt if you called yours to let him know you’re alive. He’s convinced I kidnapped you.” It’s annoying to both like and dislike this guy. He seems decent at what he does. Which is ichigo’s biggest problem with police and authority in general. 

He clicks his tongue. “Watch it. We both know you’ve done weirder shit than I have. Keep it up and I might call Grimmjow and get your background checked.”

Shiro gives him such a hard look, Ichigo can’t hold his scowl. He snorts. “You’re the one that wanted to tag along.” Ichigo isn’t opposed to any of those ideas though. “Sex is better after a workout. Or a run.” Or a fight. 

“Yup.” But they also spent time teasing Ichigo about having pictures of Shiro on his phone. That kind of takes some of the seriousness out of it. “If you didn’t want them to like you, you shouldn’t’ve played so nice. I think they’re rooting for you.” For a criminal. Damn, his family really is unusual. Maybe it’s not just him. Not that his family in the south isn’t already a bunch of criminals. 

His eyes go to Shiro. Ichigo opens his mouth then shuts it, considers that, and finally leans back to answer seriously. “I trust you. But if I’m not doing my job, how are you supposed to trust me? I’m not letting things go back to the way they were.” When Shiro comes face to face with his addiction or when he’s just feeling extra itchy, he should know Ichigo won’t slip too. 

Ichigo doesn’t really look at the menu. He knows what’s on it. Instead, he orders a coffee and a tea and his usual when the old man comes back, and if the guy thinks it’s weird to order coffee and tea, he doesn’t so much as make a face. 

[ichxgo]

❝ i knew I heard that familiar voice of yours. Believe it or not, I was beginning to miss it. ❞

⎡ @yxngrou ⫿ unscripted ⫿ accepting ⎦

His back tenses, shoulders pulling tight before that reiatsu really registers.

          Akari.

He turns, stares for a beat, caught somewhere between surprise and doubt that she's actually there. His eyes slide into the space behind her, not even sure why he should care whether or not she came alone. Which is ridiculous anyway. She's always alone.

               His mouth pulls sideways into something faintly amused, vaguely teasing. "That couldn't be true. I lost count of how many times you've told me I'm irritating."

The words come easy. So does the interaction. It shouldn't. They were supposed to be enemies once. 

                      "FIgured you'd have your face stuck so far into one of those girl porn books of yours, you wouldn't even notice."

[ichxgo]

It looks to him, STONY ; it does not waiver, for a moment mere. When it does approach, the creaking groan of its' joints and muscles echo into the air, arm reaching out. Hand, pallid, would rest 'pon crown of brilliant orange, moving side to side gently.

Truthfully, it was gleeful, to see Ichigo. But, Isaak could do no more smiling, than it had at present. Ears, in its' stead, wiggle. Joyous.

⎡ @analogfriend ⫿ unscripted ⫿ accepting ⎦

                       He knows those creaks. 

There’s a smirk starting across his mouth almost before that touch ruffles orange hair. Claws part through the mess of it, bright strands flopping rebelliously in every direction as they're released. 

           “Yeah. Yeah...” His hair crackles with static as he looks up from under that palm to spot two sets of gleeful eyes. “Glad to see you too, buddy.” 

Isaak didn’t have to give him so much warning. They're fast, and Ichigo was distracted. He thinks Isaak could’ve taken him completely unaware. It kind of hurts his pride to admit it, but he's also gotten used to it. 

He shifts his other arm where it rests in a sling, trying to take some of the pressure off his shoulder. His face is a maze of cuts and they pull when he smiles, so he keeps the gesture small. 

                   “Been a while. Guess I haven’t done a great job visiting.                      What have you been up to? Staying out of trouble, right?”

[ichxgo]

"Oi." Sticks his head out of a garganta, before tossing him his bird hollow like an oversized, fuzzy baseball. "You forgot one of your little dipshits over here."

⎡ @jaeguara ⫿ unscripted ⫿ accepting ⎦

                  A blink. “Hm?” 

He’s just whipped his head around when the bird hollow smacks his face with a short, grating squawk, folding around him in a way that’s distinctly unnatural. Like a fuzzy piece of silly putty. He reaches up to yank it off before he suffocates, then tosses it over a shoulder without another thought. 

There’s a second squawk followed by a shorter pip when it rights itself, wobbles back over, and cranes its neck back to peer up. 

The creep. When did it even follow him there? He has no idea. He can’t be responsible for every irritating thing the little nuisance does. 

           He presses his lips at Grimmjow, even as that little puffball glues itself to the side of his leg. “And you thought you’d bring it back? Doesn’t it belong over there?” He huffs, drops his hands onto his hips to scowl down at it darkly before nudging it a few inches back with a foot. Sighs. “Alright, idiot bird. Keep up this time.”

           Then to Grimmjow, “Thanks. I guess…” 

[the-pallid-king]

"Will you wear an apron? Just an apron?" Ichigo would make a hot housewife. Shiro could be into it. He's been so absorbed in his own misery lately that it didn't even occur to him that Ichigo might be getting himself into the life threatening kind of trouble. His blood runs a little cold and his brow knots a little with worry, but he's not shocked in the slightest. Nothing will keep Ichigo from this, he knows that. He can either be pissy about it or he can be supportive and hope that Ichigo comes to him for help if he needs it. "Lettin' 'em loose is better than wherever they're at now." But of course just setting them free isn't good enough. "Why not drop them off down the block from the police, let the police figure it out. It's their job."

His brow furrows with that short answer, confused, at least until he hears the explanation that follows. "I dont-" but a denial would be an insult. His shoulders fall a little. He changes from denial to almost-apology. "I don't mean to doubt you." He has been, though, even if accidentally. It's second nature, a survival tactic. His features twist a little. "Why do you gotta make it sound like I wanna hold you hostage? I don't care if you wanna do your own thing, I just gotta know you're gonna come back home to me." Which is just another way to say what Ichigo just said. So he sighs, "It would help though, I think."

He snorts a laugh at Ichigo's reaction. "Are you saying you'd fail the background check??" Fake shock and dismay. "Well now I have to look into it. Now it's interesting."

The light touch of fingers pulls his attention and he looks over briefly, and kind of hopes Ichigo takes his hand, no matter how grade school it feels. He can settle for a touch though.

"You liking him seems like more reason for me to kill him, honestly." Shiro? Jealous?? Possessive?? Obviously. But he knows that's not the kind of like Ichigo means. It was impossible to miss how pent up and desperate Ichigo was, both the night before and when they first got back together. There's no way Ichigo's sleeping around. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill him. Probably. Might depend how long you leave me locked up alone and how bored I get." He shrugs, casual, but also mostly joking.

The car peels out on the cracked surface of the parking space and Shiro grins a little at the feel of his car. Goddamn he missed this thing. He whips out of the lot and into the street a little fast, but let's the car coast to a more normal speed as they hit the main street and head toward the restaurant.

[ichxgo]

“So long as you don’t expect me to do any cooking.” He leans his elbow on the door, yawns, then drops his chin into a palm with a snort. “What are you going to be wearing?” A suit maybe. Ichigo would take it off him with his teeth. He could play house with Shiro happily. At least until they both get bored with it and wind up on a killing spree instead. 

He looks out his window while he considers that. “For most of them, it would be. I could call the cops once everything’s done. But I’m not looking to get myself caught either.” A lot of maybes in the air. He hasn’t decided. 

His eyes snap back to Shiro. That wasn’t supposed to be an accusation. Ichigo gave him a lot to doubt. And even before that, Shiro wasn’t the most trusting in that way. For good reason. “I’m not blaming you. And you can’t hold me hostage if I pick this.” A shrug. He’s holding himself hostage. By choice. “Don’t ruin my grand gesture, asshole. I’ve decided.” Except that little word ‘home’ sidetracks him hard. He doesn’t want to be so grossly cliche as to say anyplace Shiro goes is his home, but... fuck. “Where the hell else would I go? Even when I was staying away intentionally, I was doing a shit job of it. You’re where I want to be.” 

He frowns, chews at the inside of his lip, wonders just how honest they’re being at the moment. “I would pass.” But he cuts Shiro a hard look and huffs, realizing too late that he’s being teased. “Don’t push me. I’d be upset if I went to beat your ass and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Shiro peels out and Ichigo just about plants a foot on the dash. Except he knows how much that damn thing cost. “Professionally.” He’s pretty sure he didn’t actually have to say it. And since Shiro went there, he deserves what he gets. “If I were going to fuck around, it'd have to be the hot guy that runs the opposite way in the morning.” 

There’s a smirk threatening, but he gives a long, dramatic sigh instead. “There’s my blackmailing boyfriend. Just when I was starting to think the romance had gone.” He likes it though. If only because Shiro is basically demanding his attention. He could get used to that kind of forceful neediness. 

But Shiro seems happy to play with his car, so Ichigo answers his personal messages he’s been ignoring. He’s stunned when the engine cuts off and he realizes they’re at the restaurant. Ichigo pushes his phone into his pocket as he climbs out. “By the way, watch out for Yuzu. She’s cutting hair now. Think she salivates every time you come up. She wants to give you something shoulder length. I told her I’d burn the shop down.”

[the-pallid-king]

He laughs, "I don't expect you to cook. In fact, I don't even want you in my kitchen." That is a life skill Ichigo has never picked up. Shiro could try to teach him, but he doesn't care that much and he doesn't think Ichigo does either. "Hm. Well, drug dealers don't exactly have a dress code. What would you want me to wear?"

His eyes flicker toward Ichigo, taking in his posture and the cast of his features. "Yeah, that's why I said drop 'em off a block away. Don't call them, damn. Get one of the people you're setting free to call. Or put in an anonymous tip."

He chews on that response for a second but he already knows Ichigo means it. And he's right, too. Shiro couldn't hold Ichigo hostage if he wanted to. Once upon a time, sure, but not anymore. He nods to himself and rolls his eyes at Ichigo. "I'm not ruining anything, jerk, I'm accepting it." It's a little funny that the grand gesture is Ichigo quitting his literally life threatening job, not the time, effort and money to restore his car.

That hesitation is telling, not that he gives two shits about whether or not Ichigo has a record hidden somewhere. "You'd pass, huh? With a background so squeaky clean it's suspicious?" He's still teasing, but not uninterested. He scoffs, "I wouldn't be." Upset, that is. "It'd just turn into a make out session and then we'd fuck dirty against a wall 'r something."

His eyes narrow and his attention swings to Ichigo. "Don't think I can't figure out your route and who you're talking about. I'm really good at that kinda thing." Stalking. He's really good at stalking. The world is lucky he's not a much bigger creep. There probably isn't even a hot guy that runs the oposite way in the morning. This is probably just Ichigo trying to get under his skin, maybe even trying to get him to start running. Hah. He rolls his eyes again, at Ichigo's long suffering sigh, at his words, but there's a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. There's going to have to do something actually romantic when he gets out of his fast tracked sobriety program. Does he even know how to be romantic...?

He's only driving close to the speed limit because the longer they take, the less time he has to spend along in the warehouse. It's just a bonus that he gets to reacquaint himself with the way his car moves and sounds. He savors every little rumble of the engine, every smooth turn, the way the steering wheel glides against his palm. He takes up two spaces in the lot when he parks, just to help keep others from parking next to his car. He's in the middle of wondering if the locals will still recognize this car or not when Ichigo starts talking about Yuzu. At first he's kind of just generally happy to hear about Ichigo's sisters, but then his expression turns to borderline horror at the mention of cutting his hair. He grabs the length of it that falls in front of his shoulders, holding it against his chest like he could protect it. "She wouldn't dare-"

[ichxgo]

“Hey.” He shoots a look toward the side of Shiro’s pale head. “I can cook some things.” Not well. Or safely, in most cases. “Maybe I’ll work on it with all this free time I’m going to have.” Which is basically the opposite of what he just said, but Ichigo’s never taken the words you can’t gracefully.

His brows lift at the question. “Nothing. At all.” Easy answer.

Then after a second, “But maybe a suit.”

That thought immediately spirals into an entire series of slutty, cozy, maybe even disciplinary outfits. Shiro draped across furniture looking expensive and smug. He’s pretty much always been the king of half buttoned shirts and crop tops. And holes in strategically questionable places. Though even just in Ichigo’s lounge clothes he gives Ichigo indecent thoughts. 

He huffs. “My first idea was just leaving them a map to the nearest precinct.” His fingers tap once against his knee. “Problem is I don’t know what kind of state I’ll be in afterward.” He’d been trying not to say that part out loud. 

That acceptance remark earns a look. “Uh huh.” Mostly amused. “You do realize you’ve checked, like, six different ways to make sure I actually want this?” Accepted it his ass. 

His stomach does an odd little flip at the background check teasing. It’s different than the usual kind of nerves Shiro causes. “Not… entirely. No arrests. Just… detainments. For being places I shouldn’t.” And getting hauled in until his old man showed up. His mouth twists. He would’ve rather been booked than face Isshin. “Most of the cops liked me, which honestly just pissed me off more. I hated them. I was set on finding the guy that killed my mom, and they were set on keeping me out of it. I found him.”

Shiro casually drops that image of shoving him against a wall into conversation, and Ichigo blanks out for a second, staring ahead while his imagination tries to pin down what kinds of acts Shiro of all people would consider dirty. He hasn’t gotten his fill of Shiro yet. Not even close. There a long way to go before they’ve made up for all the sex they haven’t been having. 

“Maybe I’m screwed up enough to like the idea of you watching me.” His eyes slide toward Shiro again. Even if they’ve never used the word exclusive, he thinks Shiro must know he doesn’t actually want anyone else. And Shiro’s cop is the only relationship that’s ever made him second guess whether Shiro wanted him that same way. He doesn’t care about sex on the side. Sex is cheap. Though, he might have to murder anyone Shiro let touch him. He cares about all the guarded spots inside Shiro that Shiro doesn’t show to just anyone. 

A smirk threatens at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I made you hide in the bushes, though. You should just come with me.” Too transparent? Probably. “Then afterward we can hide in the bushes together while you educate me on all these dirty things we should be doing.”

That horrified expression about Yuzu nearly makes him laugh outright.

“Have you met my family? She absolutely would. You’ve been way too nice to them. They’re not even a little scared of you.”

Which he likes. A lot. 

He watches Shiro close as they head inside, even though he doubts he’d bolt now. And the restaurant smells like fresh bread and simmering broth, the kind that’s boiled down until it’s rich and decadent. It makes his stomach growl with sudden hunger. Before he can even glance around properly, the owner spots them—the same old timer from before—and starts guiding them toward a quieter table in the back. 

[the-pallid-king]

"Will you wear an apron? Just an apron?" Ichigo would make a hot housewife. Shiro could be into it. He's been so absorbed in his own misery lately that it didn't even occur to him that Ichigo might be getting himself into the life threatening kind of trouble. His blood runs a little cold and his brow knots a little with worry, but he's not shocked in the slightest. Nothing will keep Ichigo from this, he knows that. He can either be pissy about it or he can be supportive and hope that Ichigo comes to him for help if he needs it. "Lettin' 'em loose is better than wherever they're at now." But of course just setting them free isn't good enough. "Why not drop them off down the block from the police, let the police figure it out. It's their job."

His brow furrows with that short answer, confused, at least until he hears the explanation that follows. "I dont-" but a denial would be an insult. His shoulders fall a little. He changes from denial to almost-apology. "I don't mean to doubt you." He has been, though, even if accidentally. It's second nature, a survival tactic. His features twist a little. "Why do you gotta make it sound like I wanna hold you hostage? I don't care if you wanna do your own thing, I just gotta know you're gonna come back home to me." Which is just another way to say what Ichigo just said. So he sighs, "It would help though, I think."

He snorts a laugh at Ichigo's reaction. "Are you saying you'd fail the background check??" Fake shock and dismay. "Well now I have to look into it. Now it's interesting."

The light touch of fingers pulls his attention and he looks over briefly, and kind of hopes Ichigo takes his hand, no matter how grade school it feels. He can settle for a touch though.

"You liking him seems like more reason for me to kill him, honestly." Shiro? Jealous?? Possessive?? Obviously. But he knows that's not the kind of like Ichigo means. It was impossible to miss how pent up and desperate Ichigo was, both the night before and when they first got back together. There's no way Ichigo's sleeping around. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill him. Probably. Might depend how long you leave me locked up alone and how bored I get." He shrugs, casual, but also mostly joking.

The car peels out on the cracked surface of the parking space and Shiro grins a little at the feel of his car. Goddamn he missed this thing. He whips out of the lot and into the street a little fast, but let's the car coast to a more normal speed as they hit the main street and head toward the restaurant.

[ichxgo]

“So long as you don’t expect me to do any cooking.” He leans his elbow on the door, yawns, then drops his chin into a palm with a snort. “What are you going to be wearing?” A suit maybe. Ichigo would take it off him with his teeth. He could play house with Shiro happily. At least until they both get bored with it and wind up on a killing spree instead. 

He looks out his window while he considers that. “For most of them, it would be. I could call the cops once everything’s done. But I’m not looking to get myself caught either.” A lot of maybes in the air. He hasn’t decided. 

His eyes snap back to Shiro. That wasn’t supposed to be an accusation. Ichigo gave him a lot to doubt. And even before that, Shiro wasn’t the most trusting in that way. For good reason. “I’m not blaming you. And you can’t hold me hostage if I pick this.” A shrug. He’s holding himself hostage. By choice. “Don’t ruin my grand gesture, asshole. I’ve decided.” Except that little word ‘home’ sidetracks him hard. He doesn’t want to be so grossly cliche as to say anyplace Shiro goes is his home, but... fuck. “Where the hell else would I go? Even when I was staying away intentionally, I was doing a shit job of it. You’re where I want to be.” 

He frowns, chews at the inside of his lip, wonders just how honest they’re being at the moment. “I would pass.” But he cuts Shiro a hard look and huffs, realizing too late that he’s being teased. “Don’t push me. I’d be upset if I went to beat your ass and you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Shiro peels out and Ichigo just about plants a foot on the dash. Except he knows how much that damn thing cost. “Professionally.” He’s pretty sure he didn’t actually have to say it. And since Shiro went there, he deserves what he gets. “If I were going to fuck around, it'd have to be the hot guy that runs the opposite way in the morning.” 

There’s a smirk threatening, but he gives a long, dramatic sigh instead. “There’s my blackmailing boyfriend. Just when I was starting to think the romance had gone.” He likes it though. If only because Shiro is basically demanding his attention. He could get used to that kind of forceful neediness. 

But Shiro seems happy to play with his car, so Ichigo answers his personal messages he’s been ignoring. He’s stunned when the engine cuts off and he realizes they’re at the restaurant. Ichigo pushes his phone into his pocket as he climbs out. “By the way, watch out for Yuzu. She’s cutting hair now. Think she salivates every time you come up. She wants to give you something shoulder length. I told her I’d burn the shop down.”

[ichxgo]

The first thing he thinks when he sees the air shift is: that's not a fucking Garganta.

A Garganta is seamless. A neat incision in the fabric of the world that weeps no blood and leaves no scars. When it closes, it's as though the air itself pools and congeals to heal the wound perfectly, until its like it was never there to begin with.

This is everything but that. The air boils with no heat, forming an ugly and turgid blister. As though instead of simply slicing through the fabric of worlds, this intruder means to brute-force their way through with a sheer conflagration of energy. And who else's reiatsu pulses through but Ichigo's. Of course. The fucking moron doesn't know the first thing about being a Hollow.

Grimmjow huffs, scornful. Too bad he has to act instead of just leaving him there; not even Ichigo will survive if he's left stranded in that space between worlds. He reaches his hand out, scarring a wide wake into the space before him with a simple push of his palm. Then, when he feels his hand close around a wrist, he brutally yanks, pulling Ichigo loose and flinging him into the sand behind him.

"Moron." He snarls unkindly after him. "Survival instincts of a fucking rock. Even newborn Hollows know better than to fuck around with shitty Gargantas."

⎡ @jaeguara ⫿ unscripted ⫿ accepting ⎦

              Shit. 

It’s not the path that’s difficult, he’s been making those for ages. It's the exit. The last step where everything should line up and open instead of… whatever the hell this is. 

It’s easier when zangetsu is around. Even half asleep, Ichigo can usually brute force something passable.

    Now, he’s maybe, possibly, starting to panic. 

     So he does what he does best.

     Throws more power at it.

                Maybe if he just—

One second he’s braced, staring at the dark expanse of the garganta, gathering himself for a harder attempt. The next something grabs him. 

Everything lurches. His foot hold vanishes, all that forward momentum suddenly hitting zero resistance. 

    It’s dark. 

    Less dark.

    Then blue. 

His head whips to the side. “Grimm—?“

      Sand. 

      Fucking. Everywhere. 

Then it’s dark again. He shoves himself up with a string of loud, creative swearing, spitting dust out of his mouth. It’s in his hair, his sleeves, somehow inside his ears. He swears this sand is finer than anything in the living world. Malicious. Personal.

He rounds on Grimmjow.

            “What the hell!?”

     Then he gets Grimmjow’s opinion. 

His mouth drops open, offense building fast with that assessment. “I almost had it!”

         He did not have it. 

Still. Grimmjow's here. Which is… convenient. It’ll save him hours of tracking through this stupid, endless desert. And he’s not trapped between worlds, so, yeah. 

Ichigo scrubs sand out of his eyes, stands, then yanks Zangetsu free, planting the tip into the ground as he shrugs off the outer layer of his uniform and shakes it out.

His eyes go to Grimmjow. Newborn… Bastard. 

But his reiatsu settles, smoothing back out as he relaxes. He slips back into his shihakusho. “How’d you know it was me?”

[the-pallid-king]

A very slight frown starts to furrow his brow. He'll get rid of whoever he wants, if his business is that fucked up. Except Ichigo says that part about not getting mad at each other and he only then realizes Ichigo was talking about himself fucking up Shiro's business. He scoffs, "I really doubt you're doin' that bad. But ok. I won't be mad at you, even if you do mess up."

He rolls his eyes, "Of course, idiot, but don't make me change my mind."

His expression goes blank when Ichigo tells him he's quitting. It's honestly hard to believe. Ichigo is always so independent, always so insistent that he kept a job that wasn't with Shiro, a house that wasn't Shiro's. His blank expression twists with warring surprise and skepticism. "Bull shit. You'd get so bored." It's dangerous as fuck, so he's not upset about it. The catalyst that got them back together was Ichigo nearly dying in the worst way imaginable because of his mercenary work. "I'm not complaining, I'm just- Are you really quitting?"

Like he doesn't know what to do with himself. Pff. "Dont act like you're into helpless men. We both know you liked that I knew exactly what to do with myself."

Ichigo seems so exasperated. He shrugs a little. "That's why I always make people come to me instead of the other way around." He rarely goes to meet with someone, they almost always come to a place of his choosing, during a timeframe that works for him. "And delegate. Not everything has to be done by you. Make others handle some of it. Rukia can help with that part. I'd say call me, but I don't have my phone." He sends a pointed look at Ichigo. He's under no delusion that he'll be getting it back soon. He huffs a laugh at the inclusion of the vibrator. "If your self imposed chastity is over, I probably don't need the vibrator anymore." But... maybe entertainment means Ichigo's too busy. "Unless you don't plan to visit regularly." This outing, the car, the sex, the shower, all of it, has been very good for him, but he knows how fast he goes stir crazy. He really hopes Ichigo isn't planning to keep avoiding him. But he blinks, attention snapping back to the conversation. "Oh." Breaking in his car. Damn, he's an idiot. "Rain check?"

A grin splits his features and pulls the keys from his pocket to twirl on one finger. "It's my car, of course I'm driving." He steps through the door being held for him- what a gentleman- and pauses in the hallway to wait for Ichigo so he can lock the place back up and they can be on their way.

[ichxgo]

That confirmation gets a grin. And then he’s attempting not to aim it at Shiro until he gets it back under control.

“Yeah. Maybe.” He might be bored, but he’s been staying at Shiro’s place long enough now to know there’s always enough going on to keep his attention. And it’s turned out to be far less quiet than his own empty apartment when he’s between jobs. “I can keep myself busy. I’ve got projects.” There’s still that trafficking ring he wants to bring down, but that’s different than paid work. “…Or you could keep me busy. I make a better employee than you’d think.” It’s not like he has to step on people’s heads, it’s just a hell of a lot quicker than the usual back and forth posturing. Lets them know upfront what he’s about. He can’t tell from Shiro’s face, but he has the unsettling feeling he might get a hard rejection. Shiro probably doesn’t need a private mercenary. So Ichigo scrambles to hedge. “I still have my day job. Could still do favors. It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

That statement is so true that just hearing it sends his pulse spiking, has his breaths coming a scant bit quicker and warmer. “I can like both.”

Ichigo straightens. He hadn’t even considered calling Rukia, but there are a lot of places she’d be a perfect fit. Damn. Where was this advice a week ago? Even Renji, and he trusts them both. What the hell.

He looks over, huffs. “You have no idea how much I want to be rid of it. If you’re ready to handle it, you can start now.” And by handle it, he means not calling anyone to break him out of the warehouse. That phone is dropped into Shiro’s palm. “You can call me and tell me what to do.” Except Ichigo doubts he is ready. That phone will likely have to go with him when he leaves. He saw Shiro’s expression when he had that pill. “Hm. Your penthouse is too empty when you’re not in it. I’d rather stay nights with you if you’re done hating me. And that vibrator is happening, don’t even fuck with me.”

He wants to keep being annoyed, but that grin Shiro gives ruins the attempt. Ichigo could take him right up against that door. Sink his teeth into that smirking mouth. He’s half hard going down those steps and scowling about it. “Why do I have the feeling you’re more likely to swallow those keys than give them back? It’s going with me, I’m not leaving you a getaway vehicle.”

But he slides into the car anyway. “You remember where it is?”

[the-pallid-king]

"Projects? You gonna knit a blanket or something? What kind of projects do you have?" His mind immediately crashes full speed into the gutter when Ichigo says Shiro can keep him busy. He blinks at the job mention. Right. "No, I know you do. You were a good employee even when you hated my guts. But last time we talked about it you didn't wanna work for me, you wanted to be a hired killer. What changed your mind?" This might all be about babysitting him, he thinks, keep him clean. That should probably piss him off, but it doesn't. Even when he'd been clean for nearly a year, he still had days that were harder than others. The temptation was always there. He shakes his head, "It wouldn't be bad at all. You can do whatever you want, I'd be happy to have you work with me, but you'll have to fill out an application and pass a background check." He's not serious, obviously.

He arches a brow over a somewhat smug expression, taking some amount of pride in knowing that not just anyone can do what he does. He's genuinely surprised when he ends up with his phone. "Ok. That'd give me something to do at least." He tucks it into his back pocket, ignoring the itch to scroll through all the messages and calls he's missed in the past week. He scoffs, but softly and without heat or offense. "I never hated you... I was just hurting and taking it out on you." He winces with the admission, feeling pretty shitty about it. He snorts, "I absolutely wanna fuck with you."

It's still hard to believe that Ichigo managed to have his car fixed up. He really does want to meet Ichigo's car guy. "If I swallow them, I'd have to wait too long to drive it again." Giving them up is definitely going to be rough though. "A get away vehicle, huh? That implies you think I can take down that gorilla at the door to get out before he calls his roof goons for backup." Maybe he could. And if he gets bored and desperate enough, maybe he'll try.

"I remember." He unlocks the door and slides into the driver seat, reveling in the curve of the wheel in his hand and the gear shift against his palm for a moment before actually starting the car so they can go.

[ichxgo]

A smirk. “Already trying to turn me into a housewife.” Knit a blanket, his entire ass. He can actually sew thanks to that asshole Ishida, but he’d rather be gutted with a broken bottle than admit it. Ichigo tosses him a glance from the side of his eye. He’s not used to sharing the details of his work, but that should definitely be part of this deal. Shiro should be looped in. And it won’t be work anymore. He nods. “I’ve been tracking down the rest of the traffickers. Everyone from the original list. Finding where they stash people, trying to figure out what to do with them. Can’t just set them loose. Some don’t even speak Japanese.” His jaw works, brow furrowed. “Some are kids.” 

His gaze flicks back to Shiro. But it’s an easy answer. “You.” Though it’s more complicated than that. “You still think I’ll leave. You say it even when you’re not saying it.” His voice lowers to something quiet. “If you can like me more than drugs, I can like you more than a job.” Shiro’s already said he needs him around in a more visible, constant way. Ichigo’s been struggling to figure out how to do it. How to make it clear he chooses Shiro when the urge to move creeps up. Being useless feels like dying, but it can’t be any worse than what Shiro is going through. He shrugs. “If I can’t leave, then you won’t need to worry about it. That’s never going to happen if I always have one foot out the door.” 

He misses the step he’s aiming for and comes down hard on the next. His head swivels toward Shiro. “I’m gonna roll you into traffic. And it’ll be easy, because you have the stamina of a tortoise right now. And stay away from my background unless you plan to have one of your lawyers wipe it clean.” Might need more than a lawyer. Like a magic fucking wand.

Those words might have him bringing an entire box of sex toys. They work straight into his blood, and his fingers brush the back of Shiro’s, then his wrist, almost catch his fingers. He really wants to touch him. 

That statement gets a look. He doesn’t even bother denying it. Now that Shiro is more himself, Ichigo is absolutely sure he could. It’s infuriating that Shiro doesn’t even have any sort of training other than street life. And a little chilling to consider what he'd be like if he did. Thankfully, he’s lazy as hell. He rolls his eyes and looks out his window with a hard sigh. “Try not to kill him. I like the guy.”

[the-pallid-king]

A very slight frown starts to furrow his brow. He'll get rid of whoever he wants, if his business is that fucked up. Except Ichigo says that part about not getting mad at each other and he only then realizes Ichigo was talking about himself fucking up Shiro's business. He scoffs, "I really doubt you're doin' that bad. But ok. I won't be mad at you, even if you do mess up."

He rolls his eyes, "Of course, idiot, but don't make me change my mind."

His expression goes blank when Ichigo tells him he's quitting. It's honestly hard to believe. Ichigo is always so independent, always so insistent that he kept a job that wasn't with Shiro, a house that wasn't Shiro's. His blank expression twists with warring surprise and skepticism. "Bull shit. You'd get so bored." It's dangerous as fuck, so he's not upset about it. The catalyst that got them back together was Ichigo nearly dying in the worst way imaginable because of his mercenary work. "I'm not complaining, I'm just- Are you really quitting?"

Like he doesn't know what to do with himself. Pff. "Dont act like you're into helpless men. We both know you liked that I knew exactly what to do with myself."

Ichigo seems so exasperated. He shrugs a little. "That's why I always make people come to me instead of the other way around." He rarely goes to meet with someone, they almost always come to a place of his choosing, during a timeframe that works for him. "And delegate. Not everything has to be done by you. Make others handle some of it. Rukia can help with that part. I'd say call me, but I don't have my phone." He sends a pointed look at Ichigo. He's under no delusion that he'll be getting it back soon. He huffs a laugh at the inclusion of the vibrator. "If your self imposed chastity is over, I probably don't need the vibrator anymore." But... maybe entertainment means Ichigo's too busy. "Unless you don't plan to visit regularly." This outing, the car, the sex, the shower, all of it, has been very good for him, but he knows how fast he goes stir crazy. He really hopes Ichigo isn't planning to keep avoiding him. But he blinks, attention snapping back to the conversation. "Oh." Breaking in his car. Damn, he's an idiot. "Rain check?"

A grin splits his features and pulls the keys from his pocket to twirl on one finger. "It's my car, of course I'm driving." He steps through the door being held for him- what a gentleman- and pauses in the hallway to wait for Ichigo so he can lock the place back up and they can be on their way.

[ichxgo]

That confirmation gets a grin. And then he’s attempting not to aim it at Shiro until he gets it back under control.

“Yeah. Maybe.” He might be bored, but he’s been staying at Shiro’s place long enough now to know there’s always enough going on to keep his attention. And it’s turned out to be far less quiet than his own empty apartment when he’s between jobs. “I can keep myself busy. I’ve got projects.” There’s still that trafficking ring he wants to bring down, but that’s different than paid work. “…Or you could keep me busy. I make a better employee than you’d think.” It’s not like he has to step on people’s heads, it’s just a hell of a lot quicker than the usual back and forth posturing. Lets them know upfront what he’s about. He can’t tell from Shiro’s face, but he has the unsettling feeling he might get a hard rejection. Shiro probably doesn’t need a private mercenary. So Ichigo scrambles to hedge. “I still have my day job. Could still do favors. It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

That statement is so true that just hearing it sends his pulse spiking, has his breaths coming a scant bit quicker and warmer. “I can like both.”

Ichigo straightens. He hadn’t even considered calling Rukia, but there are a lot of places she’d be a perfect fit. Damn. Where was this advice a week ago? Even Renji, and he trusts them both. What the hell.

He looks over, huffs. “You have no idea how much I want to be rid of it. If you’re ready to handle it, you can start now.” And by handle it, he means not calling anyone to break him out of the warehouse. That phone is dropped into Shiro’s palm. “You can call me and tell me what to do.” Except Ichigo doubts he is ready. That phone will likely have to go with him when he leaves. He saw Shiro’s expression when he had that pill. “Hm. Your penthouse is too empty when you’re not in it. I’d rather stay nights with you if you’re done hating me. And that vibrator is happening, don’t even fuck with me.”

He wants to keep being annoyed, but that grin Shiro gives ruins the attempt. Ichigo could take him right up against that door. Sink his teeth into that smirking mouth. He’s half hard going down those steps and scowling about it. “Why do I have the feeling you’re more likely to swallow those keys than give them back? It’s going with me, I’m not leaving you a getaway vehicle.”

But he slides into the car anyway. “You remember where it is?”

[the-pallid-king]

He's still looking off to one side, seeing Ichigo approach from his peripheral. He's not sure if it's a comfort or aggravating that there doesn't seem to be any hurry in his pace. It's that soft tone that makes him realize it's for show. That... Does kind of make him feel better, honestly.

He nods a small motion, acknowledging Ichigo's not quite an apology thing. His eyes find the upturned palm being offered to him, but before he can hesitate, before he can think about it, he flips his own upturned hand over and drops the pill. He brings his coffee cup up to his lips at the same time, as much a distraction for himself, something for his brain to think about, as because he wants to drink it. He feels a little like he should apologize, which is insane. He never apologizes. And he didn't even do anything wrong anyway.

Leaning over again, he gently pushes the nightstand drawer closed. He clears his throat, pushes a little smirk across his features, as he straightens again, finally looking up at Ichigo. "Right. So. Where we gettin' breakfast at? Or did we settle on round three?" Casual, because it's fine. He'd told Ichigo yesterday in the warehouse that he was trying; he meant it. No big deal. Except it is a big deal. He takes another drink from his coffee, feeling the whiskey burn in the back of his throat.

[ichxgo]

His fingers curl around the shape of that pill as soon as it hits his palm, but he’s not even looking at it. He’s watching Shiro’s face. He really wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. It’s impressive. Eases the tension from Ichigo's shoulders. “Thanks.” For telling him, for trusting him, for making it easy even though Ichigo hasn’t been able to make any of this easy for Shiro. But Ichigo is going to have to keep in mind that Shiro is paying closer attention to slipups than it seems. Makes sense. Shiro’s about the craftiest person he’s ever met. 

He wishes he knew what was going on in his head. 

He turns that pill over once between his fingers then pushes off toward the bathroom. It’s gone a second later, washed down the drain without ceremony.

He snags his harness on the way back, checks his gun, and starts slipping it into place. Sips his coffee, knees still nearly touching Shiro’s. Because he’s fidgeting. Looking for things to do with himself to keep whatever he’s feeling from display. It makes him look his age. Younger than anyone running this kind of business should be. Plenty of people would swear up and down that Shiro doesn’t fidget. But he does. When his walls are down and he’s trying to distract from it. 

Those questions get a snort and he sits beside him, presses the entire side of his leg to Shiro’s just for the contact--all the way to the hip. “If you’d asked me out with that look on your face back before we met, it probably would’ve worked.” But he backs up, straightens and answers those questions. “Your choice. There’s what? A half hour or so? Could do at least one of those. There’s the traditional place or we could buy a cafe case and take it back. Or we forget all that and go break your car in.”

[the-pallid-king]

He nods again, not overly sure what Ichigo's thanking him for. Maybe just casual politeness, because that's what you do when someone does what you ask of them. He starts to recover quick enough, now that fucking up a week of detox is no longer in his control. He snorts a half forced laugh. "Yeah. Well, I like you more than I like being high, so next time I make you doubt me, just remember this. I'm fuckin' doin' my best." He says it with a little sarcasm, a little flippantly, but he means it so seriously.

When Ichigo turns to flush that pill, he takes a deep, silent breath and lets his posture relax a bit. He looks over when Ichigo rejoins him, watching him check his harness and gun and FUCK. Why is he so goddamn hot? It's a good distraction. But the quiet closeness of that knee to hip contact when Ichigo sits beside him has his addled brain going a totally different direction and he takes another drink of his coffee to cover it. Has he earned a little breakdown? Yeah, probably, but he doesn't want it and he swallows it down with the coffee.

He scoffs, "What look's that?" Whatever look he apparently had instead worked eventually anyway. Ichigo was into him long before he let himself acknowledge it. "Only a half hour? What's so important on your busy schedule?" Reluctantly, he stands up to grab the borrowed shirt and finish getting dressed. "Half an hour's not enough to properly put her through her paces, so the car's out. When I'm outta solitary confinement, I'm gonna rent out a whole track and see what her new engine can really do. Let's eat. I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

[ichxgo]

He thinks the right response is a shrug, something offhand. Shiro is playing it down, he probably should too. But those words are so loaded with everything Shiro didn’t say, he’s reeling. Does Shiro even realize what he’s said?

It takes a second, but he swallows, pushes out a breath.

“That’s fair. I expect you to remember all of that when you get back to work and see if anything is still standing or not. People fuck up, and you shouldn’t get rid of them necessarily… I won’t get pissed at you if you don’t get pissed at me.”

A faint smile tugs at his mouth, even though Shiro damn near said he still expects Ichigo to leave at the first sign he can’t handle this. “You really like me more?”

He shouldn’t tease, but he’s surprised at how much he likes hearing it.

Then, like it’s nothing, “I should probably tell you, I’m done with mercenary work. What’s the point of having a rich boyfriend if I’m not laying around his penthouse letting him pay for everything.” It isn’t something that’s ever sat well with him. Being dependent on someone else instead of making his own way. But he thinks Shiro understands that kind of voluntary power imbalance better than all Ichigo’s promises to stay.

He snorts. “Like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

He pushes out a breath. “What’s not on my schedule? Everything that’s on your schedule. If there’s a lazier way to do this job, feel free to tell me.” Though Shiro agreed to take some calls. “I didn’t forget your games. You’ll get your vibrators and anything else you want, and I’ll be back early.” He smirks. “That’s not even close to what I meant, but I’m glad you like the car.”

He stands, goes to pick up all his various phones, not even a little surprised to see those keys are gone. “Guess that means you’re driving, you shit.” He opens the door, pushes it wide for Shiro to pass then realizes Shiro’s going to have to lock it behind them.

[the-pallid-king]

He's still looking off to one side, seeing Ichigo approach from his peripheral. He's not sure if it's a comfort or aggravating that there doesn't seem to be any hurry in his pace. It's that soft tone that makes him realize it's for show. That... Does kind of make him feel better, honestly.

He nods a small motion, acknowledging Ichigo's not quite an apology thing. His eyes find the upturned palm being offered to him, but before he can hesitate, before he can think about it, he flips his own upturned hand over and drops the pill. He brings his coffee cup up to his lips at the same time, as much a distraction for himself, something for his brain to think about, as because he wants to drink it. He feels a little like he should apologize, which is insane. He never apologizes. And he didn't even do anything wrong anyway.

Leaning over again, he gently pushes the nightstand drawer closed. He clears his throat, pushes a little smirk across his features, as he straightens again, finally looking up at Ichigo. "Right. So. Where we gettin' breakfast at? Or did we settle on round three?" Casual, because it's fine. He'd told Ichigo yesterday in the warehouse that he was trying; he meant it. No big deal. Except it is a big deal. He takes another drink from his coffee, feeling the whiskey burn in the back of his throat.

[ichxgo]

His fingers curl around the shape of that pill as soon as it hits his palm, but he’s not even looking at it. He’s watching Shiro’s face. He really wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. It’s impressive. Eases the tension from Ichigo's shoulders. “Thanks.” For telling him, for trusting him, for making it easy even though Ichigo hasn’t been able to make any of this easy for Shiro. But Ichigo is going to have to keep in mind that Shiro is paying closer attention to slipups than it seems. Makes sense. Shiro’s about the craftiest person he’s ever met. 

He wishes he knew what was going on in his head. 

He turns that pill over once between his fingers then pushes off toward the bathroom. It’s gone a second later, washed down the drain without ceremony.

He snags his harness on the way back, checks his gun, and starts slipping it into place. Sips his coffee, knees still nearly touching Shiro’s. Because he’s fidgeting. Looking for things to do with himself to keep whatever he’s feeling from display. It makes him look his age. Younger than anyone running this kind of business should be. Plenty of people would swear up and down that Shiro doesn’t fidget. But he does. When his walls are down and he’s trying to distract from it. 

Those questions get a snort and he sits beside him, presses the entire side of his leg to Shiro’s just for the contact--all the way to the hip. “If you’d asked me out with that look on your face back before we met, it probably would’ve worked.” But he backs up, straightens and answers those questions. “Your choice. There’s what? A half hour or so? Could do at least one of those. There’s the traditional place or we could buy a cafe case and take it back. Or we forget all that and go break your car in.”

[the-pallid-king]

The vibrating buzz of the phone and Ichigo's cursing come through his awareness as a very intriguing turn to whatever dream he was having. But when Ichigo slides out from under him, it wakes him up enough to interrupt said dream, though not enough that he's fully awake. He hears Ichigo speaking, but it's mostly words he doesn't know. The extent of his English is mostly cursing and he doesn't hear that, so his mind tunes it out and he starts to drift back into a deeper sleep. He'd probably sleep most of the day if he were left alone.

He grumbles a tired, annoyed, "Mm." When Ichigo nudges the bed, brows furrowing. Now that Ichigo's no longer in bed and they never bothered to get under the blanket, he's starting to feel cold and curls up just a little tighter, before rolling over to face Ichigo's direction. "Both." He mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes or start getting up. His stomach betrays him with a loud grumble.

[ichxgo]

Ichigo catches that ‘both’ and his head cants, lips twitching into something soft for a second as his eyes drag over Shiro’s sleepy form—before the voice on the phone cuts straight through his mood loud enough to have him pulling the device back a few inches.

Ichigo exhales, slow and irritated, turning away from the bed, that softness gone as the guy launches in again. “Yeah, I heard you. Say it again, maybe it’ll make more sense the fifth time that an entire shipment disappeared.”

There’s a clipped, defensive reply on the other end. Threats barely disguised. Ichigo scoffs under his breath as he moves toward the kitchen to start coffee. Things can get messy the guy says, as if he has a clue what Ichigo considers messy. “You’re not getting a replacement for a shipment that was packaged, delivered, and counted.”

The guy talks over him. Swears Ichigo’s people messed up. Ichigo leans a hand against the counter, eyes narrowing momentarily at his own reflection while he’s reminded that he’s temporary, disposable, that he won’t last when word gets around, how Shiro would’ve had this handled already. “Don’t do that.” It’s said softer, slower, but the other man doesn’t hear the change in tone and doubles down as Ichigo moves to the bathroom and flips on the shower. His jaw tightens. “Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. I’ve been in your warehouse. So either your walls are eating product or you’re getting creative trying to save a buck.”

Silence, brief, but telling. Then comes indignation. 

Ichigo huffs a short, humorless breath, but he’s done. The next step is going to be tossing this guy off the side of something very high. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he cuts in, done pretending patience. “I’ll come by. We’ll find your missing shipment together. And you’ll pay double for wasting my time when we do.” 

A pause. That does it.

The guy backpedals, grumbling, trying to save face. He’s opportunistic, not suicidal. And no matter what he’s threatened, he can’t get another shipment somewhere else. Maybe outside of the city, but this is Shiro’s territory. He’s sure as fuck not bringing it in or getting it cheaper. Shiro really would kill him.

Ichigo listens just long enough to hear an attempt to placate, then ends the call without another word.

“Unbelievable.” 

He leaves the phone on the counter beside the car keys and makes sure the bathroom door is open before stepping into the shower and scrubbing down. There’s not a chance he’s losing sight of the front door with Shiro out of view.

[the-pallid-king]

The irritation in Ichigo's voice catches his attention and he cracks an eye open to see what he can see of his body language and expression. Definitely the same guy that was bothering him yesterday. God damn. Ichigo must have more patience than he ever lets on.

He finally rolls onto his back, stretching with a groan, as Ichigo starts making coffee. This guy must be a fucking moron to think Shiro would let someone who wasn't fully capable be looking after his business while he's in Baja or whatever Ichigo told this one. He likes what he's hearing though. Ichigo's not taking an ounce of this guy's shit. It's hot.

It takes him another minute to finally sit up, rubbing an eye before scrubbing his fingers through messy hair. Coffee smells good. And if he closes his eyes and ignores the not quite right mattress, it's almost like they're back home and everything is normal and good. He stands up, arches his back in another stretch, then finds the pile of clean clothes Ichigo had pulled out for him last night. He pulls on boxers and a pair of jeans, doesn't even bother zipping them up, and leaves the shirt where it's at for now.

Walking into the kitchen to find a cup, his hand hesitates on the cupboard door when he sees his keys, then the unguarded front door. But then what? He isn't going to avoid Ichigo forever. He isn't going to forfeit his life, and he's never been one to just run away. He can do this. He has to do this.

He grabs the keys anyway, stuffs them in his pocket. Then he pours himself a cup of coffee and rummages around Ichigo's things until he finds that small bottle of whiskey. He spikes his coffee to his liking, before he moves to lean against the doorway to the bathroom.

"Burn it down." He says over the sound of the shower, not entirely joking, as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Oops. What a terrible accident. Hope there wasn't anything important inside." He shifts to look at himself in the little mirror above the sink, frowning at his reflection. He probably looks less dead than he did yesterday though. "My field trip's over, isn't it?"

[ichxgo]

He’s not planning to take long, just a few minutes to lather up and rinse off. But then he spots Shiro passing by the bathroom as he pushes wet hair from his eyes, tracks him until he’s out of sight again. And suddenly he’s got all his attention on getting finished and keeping an eye on that front door. Though if Shiro thinks Ichigo won’t flying tackle him naked down the stairs, he’s dead wrong. Ichigo didn’t even close the shower curtain.

But that’s not what happens at all. Shiro appears in the doorway, coffee in hand. Ichigo can smell it over the soap.

A snort at those words as he sweeps more water from his face and looks over. That suggestion soothes some of his earlier temper. All that wild hair, Shiro’s exposed midriff, and the open v of those pants smoothers the rest of it. Seems like a detail meant to remind him how easily he could slip a hand inside. Or an invitation. And he has to wrestle his thoughts back in order, sure it’s actually neither. Though he doubts Shiro would complain about a quick handjob against the wall of his bathroom.

He can’t quite keep his gaze from dragging a quick sweep up until he finds his eyes.

But he turns and shuts the water off without answering that last question, reaching for a towel and stepping out. Shiro already knows. Ichigo pauses though, reconsidering that earlier suggestion as he skims that cloth over dripping skin and smirks. “Wanna go out tonight?”

It’d be better if Shiro stays busy, even if Ichigo doesn’t have a lot of time to spare. He’d planned to stay the night with him at the warehouse anyway, now that he’s less likely to be strangled in his sleep.

[the-pallid-king]

He only half tastes his coffee, distracted as he is watching Ichigo shower. The water dripping down his torso, forming little rivulets that follow the shape of muscle is very distracting. He could stand here all day and watch.

There's no answer to his question, which is answer enough. He already knew it anyway and he's dreading going back to being locked in a windowless box. A big box, but still. Hell. He's half tempted just to tell Ichigo to bring his stupid grunts here, so he can stay here for a day or two, just to mix things up. It's even smaller, but at least it's comfortable.

He takes another sip of his coffee while Ichigo starts toweling down, smirking, "Do you even need to ask?" Of course he wants to go out tonight. It doesn't even matter what kind of going out Ichigo means. It doesn't matter if it's dinner or arson. He wants the out part.

He steps back from the doorway and settles cross-legged on the edge of the bed to let Ichigo keep getting ready. Breakfast does sound nice. He hopes that's still on the table and wonders how desperate he'd sound if he insisted. While he's sitting there, brain waking up and body feeling lax and saited from the night before, his attention drifts to the nightstand as he remembers the rattle of that little pill. He leans over and opens it before he can think better of it, fishing out that tiny little pain in his ass. He freezes, coffee in one hand, pill in the other. He swallows dryly, then looks off to the side, not moving. "Uh. Can- can you come take this from me?" He tries to sound casual while the rational side of him wars with the addict in him. He should just get up and hand it to Ichigo, or rinse it down the drain, but he's genuinely worried that if he moves he's going to snap the teetering sliver of self control he's hanging onto.

[ichxgo]

He drags the towel through his hair—darker now with water—then lets it fall around his neck. Tugs on jeans and a tee. He moves into the kitchen for coffee. That bottle is still there with just enough liquid left to be considered a shot. He upends into his mug. He’s got a full day of dealing with assholes. No point pretending otherwise.

The tone of voice behind him is so lowkey, the alarms don’t trip in his brain. Until the words really sink in and he turns.

The curse never makes it out. His jaw tightens instead.

He pulls the towel from his neck, drapes it over the back of a chair, leaves the coffee untouched. When he steps closer, it’s unhurried, loose, as casual as Shiro’s tone. Far more than he actually feels as he berates himself for forgetting that damn, little tablet.

He could snatch it. It’s tempting. But he doesn’t want to unbalance whatever grip Shiro has on himself. And it seems important to see if Shiro will let it go on his own.

“S’my fault.” Said soft. He lifts a hand, holds it out. “Here.”

There’s no intention of letting that tablet go into Shiro’s mouth. He’s ready. Tense even, probably more than he looks. He thought last night it might be half a sleeping pill, but it’s definitely not. He’s tried just about everything to get sleep. He thinks it’s a Valium.

With everything going on, he hasn’t considered how he’ll keep his own pills from Shiro. And he’s not really sure he can do without them.

[the-pallid-king]

The vibrating buzz of the phone and Ichigo's cursing come through his awareness as a very intriguing turn to whatever dream he was having. But when Ichigo slides out from under him, it wakes him up enough to interrupt said dream, though not enough that he's fully awake. He hears Ichigo speaking, but it's mostly words he doesn't know. The extent of his English is mostly cursing and he doesn't hear that, so his mind tunes it out and he starts to drift back into a deeper sleep. He'd probably sleep most of the day if he were left alone.

He grumbles a tired, annoyed, "Mm." When Ichigo nudges the bed, brows furrowing. Now that Ichigo's no longer in bed and they never bothered to get under the blanket, he's starting to feel cold and curls up just a little tighter, before rolling over to face Ichigo's direction. "Both." He mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes or start getting up. His stomach betrays him with a loud grumble.

[ichxgo]

Ichigo catches that ‘both’ and his head cants, lips twitching into something soft for a second as his eyes drag over Shiro’s sleepy form—before the voice on the phone cuts straight through his mood loud enough to have him pulling the device back a few inches.

Ichigo exhales, slow and irritated, turning away from the bed, that softness gone as the guy launches in again. “Yeah, I heard you. Say it again, maybe it’ll make more sense the fifth time that an entire shipment disappeared.”

There’s a clipped, defensive reply on the other end. Threats barely disguised. Ichigo scoffs under his breath as he moves toward the kitchen to start coffee. Things can get messy the guy says, as if he has a clue what Ichigo considers messy. “You’re not getting a replacement for a shipment that was packaged, delivered, and counted.”

The guy talks over him. Swears Ichigo’s people messed up. Ichigo leans a hand against the counter, eyes narrowing momentarily at his own reflection while he’s reminded that he’s temporary, disposable, that he won’t last when word gets around, how Shiro would’ve had this handled already. “Don’t do that.” It’s said softer, slower, but the other man doesn’t hear the change in tone and doubles down as Ichigo moves to the bathroom and flips on the shower. His jaw tightens. “Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. I’ve been in your warehouse. So either your walls are eating product or you’re getting creative trying to save a buck.”

Silence, brief, but telling. Then comes indignation. 

Ichigo huffs a short, humorless breath, but he’s done. The next step is going to be tossing this guy off the side of something very high. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he cuts in, done pretending patience. “I’ll come by. We’ll find your missing shipment together. And you’ll pay double for wasting my time when we do.” 

A pause. That does it.

The guy backpedals, grumbling, trying to save face. He’s opportunistic, not suicidal. And no matter what he’s threatened, he can’t get another shipment somewhere else. Maybe outside of the city, but this is Shiro’s territory. He’s sure as fuck not bringing it in or getting it cheaper. Shiro really would kill him.

Ichigo listens just long enough to hear an attempt to placate, then ends the call without another word.

“Unbelievable.” 

He leaves the phone on the counter beside the car keys and makes sure the bathroom door is open before stepping into the shower and scrubbing down. There’s not a chance he’s losing sight of the front door with Shiro out of view.

[the-pallid-king]

The irritation in Ichigo's voice catches his attention and he cracks an eye open to see what he can see of his body language and expression. Definitely the same guy that was bothering him yesterday. God damn. Ichigo must have more patience than he ever lets on.

He finally rolls onto his back, stretching with a groan, as Ichigo starts making coffee. This guy must be a fucking moron to think Shiro would let someone who wasn't fully capable be looking after his business while he's in Baja or whatever Ichigo told this one. He likes what he's hearing though. Ichigo's not taking an ounce of this guy's shit. It's hot.

It takes him another minute to finally sit up, rubbing an eye before scrubbing his fingers through messy hair. Coffee smells good. And if he closes his eyes and ignores the not quite right mattress, it's almost like they're back home and everything is normal and good. He stands up, arches his back in another stretch, then finds the pile of clean clothes Ichigo had pulled out for him last night. He pulls on boxers and a pair of jeans, doesn't even bother zipping them up, and leaves the shirt where it's at for now.

Walking into the kitchen to find a cup, his hand hesitates on the cupboard door when he sees his keys, then the unguarded front door. But then what? He isn't going to avoid Ichigo forever. He isn't going to forfeit his life, and he's never been one to just run away. He can do this. He has to do this.

He grabs the keys anyway, stuffs them in his pocket. Then he pours himself a cup of coffee and rummages around Ichigo's things until he finds that small bottle of whiskey. He spikes his coffee to his liking, before he moves to lean against the doorway to the bathroom.

"Burn it down." He says over the sound of the shower, not entirely joking, as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Oops. What a terrible accident. Hope there wasn't anything important inside." He shifts to look at himself in the little mirror above the sink, frowning at his reflection. He probably looks less dead than he did yesterday though. "My field trip's over, isn't it?"

[ichxgo]

He’s not planning to take long, just a few minutes to lather up and rinse off. But then he spots Shiro passing by the bathroom as he pushes wet hair from his eyes, tracks him until he’s out of sight again. And suddenly he’s got all his attention on getting finished and keeping an eye on that front door. Though if Shiro thinks Ichigo won’t flying tackle him naked down the stairs, he’s dead wrong. Ichigo didn’t even close the shower curtain.

But that’s not what happens at all. Shiro appears in the doorway, coffee in hand. Ichigo can smell it over the soap.

A snort at those words as he sweeps more water from his face and looks over. That suggestion soothes some of his earlier temper. All that wild hair, Shiro’s exposed midriff, and the open v of those pants smoothers the rest of it. Seems like a detail meant to remind him how easily he could slip a hand inside. Or an invitation. And he has to wrestle his thoughts back in order, sure it’s actually neither. Though he doubts Shiro would complain about a quick handjob against the wall of his bathroom.

He can’t quite keep his gaze from dragging a quick sweep up until he finds his eyes.

But he turns and shuts the water off without answering that last question, reaching for a towel and stepping out. Shiro already knows. Ichigo pauses though, reconsidering that earlier suggestion as he skims that cloth over dripping skin and smirks. “Wanna go out tonight?”

It’d be better if Shiro stays busy, even if Ichigo doesn’t have a lot of time to spare. He’d planned to stay the night with him at the warehouse anyway, now that he’s less likely to be strangled in his sleep.

[the-pallid-king]

The vibrating buzz of the phone and Ichigo's cursing come through his awareness as a very intriguing turn to whatever dream he was having. But when Ichigo slides out from under him, it wakes him up enough to interrupt said dream, though not enough that he's fully awake. He hears Ichigo speaking, but it's mostly words he doesn't know. The extent of his English is mostly cursing and he doesn't hear that, so his mind tunes it out and he starts to drift back into a deeper sleep. He'd probably sleep most of the day if he were left alone.

He grumbles a tired, annoyed, "Mm." When Ichigo nudges the bed, brows furrowing. Now that Ichigo's no longer in bed and they never bothered to get under the blanket, he's starting to feel cold and curls up just a little tighter, before rolling over to face Ichigo's direction. "Both." He mumbles, not bothering to open his eyes or start getting up. His stomach betrays him with a loud grumble.

[ichxgo]

Ichigo catches that ‘both’ and his head cants, lips twitching into something soft for a second as his eyes drag over Shiro’s sleepy form—before the voice on the phone cuts straight through his mood loud enough to have him pulling the device back a few inches.

Ichigo exhales, slow and irritated, turning away from the bed, that softness gone as the guy launches in again. “Yeah, I heard you. Say it again, maybe it’ll make more sense the fifth time that an entire shipment disappeared.”

There’s a clipped, defensive reply on the other end. Threats barely disguised. Ichigo scoffs under his breath as he moves toward the kitchen to start coffee. Things can get messy the guy says, as if he has a clue what Ichigo considers messy. “You’re not getting a replacement for a shipment that was packaged, delivered, and counted.”

The guy talks over him. Swears Ichigo’s people messed up. Ichigo leans a hand against the counter, eyes narrowing momentarily at his own reflection while he’s reminded that he’s temporary, disposable, that he won’t last when word gets around, how Shiro would’ve had this handled already. “Don’t do that.” It’s said softer, slower, but the other man doesn’t hear the change in tone and doubles down as Ichigo moves to the bathroom and flips on the shower. His jaw tightens. “Don’t try to sell me that bullshit. I’ve been in your warehouse. So either your walls are eating product or you’re getting creative trying to save a buck.”

Silence, brief, but telling. Then comes indignation. 

Ichigo huffs a short, humorless breath, but he’s done. The next step is going to be tossing this guy off the side of something very high. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he cuts in, done pretending patience. “I’ll come by. We’ll find your missing shipment together. And you’ll pay double for wasting my time when we do.” 

A pause. That does it.

The guy backpedals, grumbling, trying to save face. He’s opportunistic, not suicidal. And no matter what he’s threatened, he can’t get another shipment somewhere else. Maybe outside of the city, but this is Shiro’s territory. He’s sure as fuck not bringing it in or getting it cheaper. Shiro really would kill him.

Ichigo listens just long enough to hear an attempt to placate, then ends the call without another word.

“Unbelievable.” 

He leaves the phone on the counter beside the car keys and makes sure the bathroom door is open before stepping into the shower and scrubbing down. There’s not a chance he’s losing sight of the front door with Shiro out of view.

[the-pallid-king]

Teeth, a hot flash of mixed sting, pleasure and surprise, have a sound not unlike a whine falling from his parted lips. Ichigo's hands on his hips burn against his feverish skin. Every part of him feels ready to combust. He moans when fingers tangle in his hair, and hungrily meets the kiss he's being pulled into.

There's the slightest tremble running through the muscles of his legs and core, a combination of strain on a worn out body and pleasure and the tension of said pleasure. He feels so close, but there's the vague worry that he's been so wrecked by the difficulty of this past week that he wont be able to finish. The frustration of that builds as he grinds, using Ichigo's cock exactly the way he wants. It has him stuttering out breathless sounds against Ichigo's mouth.

Then there's a snug hand around his cock. A few of those rushed, tugging pulls is all it takes. One arm shoots around the back of Ichigo's neck, clinging, and he breaks the kiss to let his forehead thunk down against Ichigo's shoulder, and comes hard across his belly.

[ichxgo]

Ichigo can feel that shaking, feel the way those downward motions grow desperate as Shiro works himself over the edge. Ichigo can feel the tension as it coils through him—in the muscles under his palm and the body pressed against him. That release seems to travel all the way up from Shiro’s core. And then he’s clamping down around Ichigo alongside those same pulses of wet heat.

The hand in Shiro’s hair loosens when that white head finds his shoulder. Ichigo wraps an arm around him, a little worried that when he finally lets himself stop, he’s going to fall over. He drives his hips up into Shiro as he finishes with a groan, pushes deeper into that heat every time Shiro’s body clenches.

He wants to watch, wants to see those eyes go dark and hazy when Shiro comes as he straddles him. His hands find Shiro’s head to push him a few inches back, almost close enough for a kiss, but definitely close enough to see how dilated those eyes are even as Ichigo pushes up into him a few more times. He shudders, passes a thumb under Shiro’s lower lip then follows it with the barest drag of tongue, breathless, not because he worked that hard, but because that’s just what Shiro does to him.

“Tell me you love me.” He strains as far in as he can go, even though he’s finished and it’s too intense, too much. “Say it, and I swear I’ll fuck you too limp to move.”

[the-pallid-king]

It's not a surprise when Ichigo keeps fucking him through his orgasm, he always does, but fuck if it isn't just as overstimulating as always. He practically squirms while Ichigo moves, knees clenched against Ichigo's hips while most of his weight sits in Ichigo's lap. Those last few pushes have breathless, stuttering sounds pushing up his throat. He's out of breath but barely registering his own pants when Ichigo tips his head back. It takes a second for him to be able to focus on the handsome features in front of him. This is better than any drug.

His tongue wants to follow the path of Ichigo's tongue, but Ichigo does it for him. That final push as Ichigo speaks has him biting his lip, nails dragging against skin. "I-" it still feels weird to say, even as distracted and hazy as he is, even as true as it is. It feels like something he's not allowed to have. He's already feeling sated and ready for bed; the incentive isn't why he says it as he leans in the few inches between them and whispers against Ichigo's mouth, "I love you." And then kisses him.

[ichxgo]

It’s mean. There’s really no other term for it when Ichigo demands those words. He knows how difficult they are to get out. Shiro’s stumbled over them practically every time he’s ever tried them. But Ichigo thinks that’s why he likes them so much. It means more to him when Shiro fights that hard for it.

And even though he’s the one that asked, those words still plow into him like a truck, making his lungs seize up for a second. It hurts in the best way.

His hands slide low, they find pale hips and he twists them over. He sheds the rest of his clothes, his harness and shirt tossed aside. It doesn’t need to be fast. Shiro damn near fucked his soul out through his dick already, so he takes his time getting his energy back, exploring every bit of him like he’s never done it before. Pours all the need and sexual frustration he’s been saving up ever since Shiro’s been stuck in that warehouse into every kiss and bite and drag of his hands when he grips him. Then he does exactly what he said he would and fucks him until he doesn’t have anything left to give. He’s not sure he’s ever done that before, he always seems to want more.

And when they’re finished and it’s just the quiet and the low hiss of the air circulating and that phone has finally stopped, he’s smashed against Shiro as he falls asleep without giving him an inch of space.

[the-pallid-king]

It's something of a relief that Ichigo twists them over. He's not sure he could keep riding, even if the desire is there. He drinks in the sight of Ichigo stripping the rest of the way, hands raising to find skin. When Ichigo first made the promise, he genuinely wasn't sure how he'd keep up with Ichigo's drive right now, and he certainly doesn't have the stamina he usually has, but the more Ichigo touches and explores, the more his body surprises him. The usual frantic energy isn't there, but it's just as good, just as thorough, and satiating in a totally different way.

When they're done, he's pretty sure he's never going to be able to move again. He's exhausted, but in a good way for the first time all week. His arm snakes around Ichigo when he collapses practically on top of him and he rolls slightly, just enough to tuck himself into the warmth of Ichigo, and passes out before he can even think to want a blanket, breathing in a deep, not quite snoring rhythm.

[ichxgo]

It’s not the smartest thing he’s ever done. The only real security here is how obscure the place is. If anyone came crashing through the door, he wouldn’t get to his gun in time. He doesn’t keep weapons stashed everywhere like Shiro who’s either paranoid or likes them more than Ichigo realized. Or maybe he just has no intention of ever ending up under anyone’s thumb again.

But no one beats the door down and Ichigo doesn’t wake up until his phone starts vibrating. He blinks awake to a head of white hair tucked against his chest, pressed up under his chin. It’s dried into a soft mess, sticking out in every direction, and he snorts, almost smirks—until the phone goes off again.

He swears instead, a vicious string of curses, wonders how long it’s been ringing, and eases himself from under Shiro to go check. There’s so much shit to do. Sleep’s been nothing but a few stolen hours when he can manage it.

He finds his business phone in his jeans along with the keys, answers as he realizes how much he needs a shower. And how much he’d rather crawl back into bed. Then that other phone starts ringing too, and he’s about to beat his head into the wall.

He takes his call first. It’s the warehouse guard. The guy’s English is good enough that it only takes a few seconds to explain they’ll be back within the hour.

Then he’s finding Shiro’s phone, answering with a clipped, “What now?” even as he nudges the bed with his foot a few times to try and get Shiro moving.

Only half listening to the answer, he clamps his hand over the microphone and leans across the mattress. “You should wake up if you want breakfast, otherwise I’m gonna assume you’re volunteering for a third round.”