Disclaimer: I own nothing, Kubo owns everything. Not for profit, just for funsies.
Summary: What started out as a bet between Renji and a few friends escalates into a ridiculous, all-out battle involving nearly all of Seireitei. The prize? Unequaled bragging rights and a huge pot. The risk? Definitely your job, possibly your life. The task? Get Kuchiki Byakuya to completely lose his composure. Very few rules, endless possibilities—poor Byakuya. He won't know what hit him.
Warnings: There is cursing. I have no idea if that constitutes an "M" rating. If it does, I'll make the necessary changes. Also, mentions of sex later. Not the "heaving sweatiness" kind of writing. Just mentions of sexual situations, and people wanting The Sex. Sub-warning for this, mentions of het and pseudo-slash/shounen-ai. THIS IS NOT SLASH, for those of you that worry. For those of you that don't, look at it however you will. I promise it will make sense later.
Un-beta-ed. Feel free to correct and criticize so I can make the necessary corrections. Because, holy crap, Kubo has a lot of characters and I've forgotten who some of them are and why they're important.
The Chapter Where Renji Gets a Really Stupid Idea, and Byakuya Eats a Lot
It all started with a cup of coffee and sort of went to hell after that. What with the hair-dye and theft of Kuchiki-taichō's haori. And Yachiru. God, Yachiru . . . and the sneezing powder . . . and Rangiku and Shūhei's little "tryst" . . . and that fucking aphrodisiac. Renji swore to any god, if he ever got a hold of the psychopath that caused all that trauma, he would—
—but he was getting ahead of himself.
Anyway, it all started with a cup of coffee. Someone had managed to bring a large tub of it back from the Living World, along with a contraption that Renji could make no sense of, and the smell of brewing coffee now overwhelmed the office in the mornings. Renji couldn't understand why the drink was so popular, but did notice it had a rather pleasant side-affect of brightening the moods of the less alert shinigami in the morning.
As he carefully prepared what was needed to brew Kuchiki-taichō's tea, he thought somewhat sleepily of his own first experience with coffee. It had been hot, like tea, and while tea could be bitter at times, this taste had been enough to make his eyes water. It was like nothing he had ever had before, more pungent than even its odor would have one think, burning away any prior taste on the tongue. Needless to say, Renji had spat out most of the mouthful he had taken, though some of it slipped down his throat. It had been so strong the he had been able to clearly smell it on his own breath afterward. Absolutely horrible stuff.
It was then that just a little thought, innocent really, occurred to him. How would Taichō react to that vile beverage? Would his eyes, so icy most of the time, widen as he tasted it? Would his mouth twist in a desire to spit it out? Or would he force himself to just drink it? After all, a noble couldn't appear . . . unseemly.
Renji chuckled at the thought as he finished preparing the tea. For whatever reason, though, he didn't immediately whisk the cup to Kuchiki-taichō when he was done. Instead, he stared at it a moment and thought again, Actually, how would Kuchiki-taichō react? Without really intending to, he heard himself call for Rikichi.
Rikichi literally dropped what he was doing, scrolls clattering on a nearby desk, in order to rush to Renji's side. Renji gave him a slightly chagrinned smile. The kid was great, but a little overwhelming in his hero-worship. The over-eager manner that Rikichi addressed him with could be both flattering and a little embarrassing.
"Can you help me figure this thing out?" Renji asked before Rikichi could begin chattering at him. He pointed to the coffee machine. Rikichi beamed and nodded, probably just happy he could do something to help.
Renji half-listened to him as he first explained thoroughly how to operate the coffee-maker, then described nearly ten different ways to brew the coffee.
"Look, could I just have a cup of it?" he finally asked somewhat desperately. Taichō might be getting impatient for his tea. Not that it would really be obvious other than a flat, "Were you tardy this morning, Abarai?" Which was not something he really wanted to hear. Again.
Rikichi nodded and quickly made a fresh pot. Renji's nose wrinkled as the sharp odor became stronger over time. Eventually, not hurried in the least by Renji's fidgeting or tapping foot, a cup of steaming coffee was ready and placed on the tray next to Kuchiki-taichō's tea. Hurriedly thanking Rikichi, Renji whisked the tray down the hall toward the office he shared with this taichō. After doing it so many times, Renji had gotten skilled enough not to jostle the cups or run into someone. Scalded, wet, and chewed out for being late, untidy, and clumsy was not a fun way to start the work day.
He knocked briefly on the door to announce his arrival, then carefully pushed it open after hearing the brief, "Enter" from the other side. Kuchiki-taichō sat at his desk, immaculate as usual. Shihakushō pristine and unwrinkled, not a single hair out of place, straight-backed at his equally perfect desk, face fixed with the usual "everything-is-beneath-me" gaze, Kuchiki Byakuya was an island. A place of quiet calm even when everything around him was a mess. Such as Renji's desk.
The two desks were in stark contrast to each other, though by now this fact no longer intimidated Renji. It only tended to make him tired. To be honest, he was kind of surprised that it hadn't been commented on yet. At least there weren't so many piles of paperwork. And those ink stains could be ignored. Mostly.
Renji set the tray down carefully but only placed one cup in front of his taichō. Kuchiki-taichō didn't look up from the document he was reading, but acknowledged the gesture with a slight nod. Renji hovered, casually, beside the desk, and watched as the cup was carefully picked up. It halted immediately under Kuchiki-taichō's nose, and the man stilled, no doubt noticing the strong aroma. Finally breaking his study of the document, he swept his gaze smoothly from the cup to his fukutaichō. He did not even need the assistance of a raised eyebrow to convey the question.
"It's something new, Taichō," Renji explained, suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous. "The shinigami in the division seem to like it, so I thought you might want to try it. It's called 'coffee.'"
Kuchiki made a small "hmmm" noise and carefully took a sip. Renji forced himself to at least attempt not to look like a naughty, panicked child or like he was intently focused on watching his taichō's reaction.
Kuchiki-taichō didn't spit the liquid out. His eyes didn't bulge at the horrendous flavor, and his features didn't twist in disgust. He merely stared quietly down at the cup before taking another experimental sip. Then another. And another. And another.
Renji couldn't contain himself any longer. "Taichō," he finally blurted incredulously, "is—don't—do you actually like it?"
Kuchiki-taichō made another quiet hmm-ing noise and took another sip, considering. "It is not unpleasant," he said at last. "A bit strong, but the bitterness is agreeable." He sipped again. "Still, I think I prefer my tea." He looked at Renji for a moment before setting the half-empty cup down and making the smallest of gestures for the other. Renji, still feeling baffled that anyone could enjoy the drink, gave it to him and placed the coffee cup back on the tray. He turned, intending to take the tray back to the small table beside his desk.
"Abarai," Kuchiki-taichō said, causing Renji to turn back slightly. His taichō wasn't looking at him though, rather sipping his tea and reading his document again. "Your consideration is noted."
Renji stared at him for a moment, not entirely sure if that counted as a "thank-you" before replying, "Uh, no problem, Taichō. Anytime."
If he felt a bit guilty at trying to force a reaction from his stoic taichō, he ignored it instead to once again assure himself that Kuchiki Byakuya was not normal. With a sigh, he began to work on the mound of paperwork that never seemed to disappear from his desk. Still, the thought of cracking that bland mask nagged at him the entire day.
And for weeks.
He continued making sporadic attempts to cause a reaction by repeating experiments with different snacks or teas. In his free time he would scour the markets for something new or strange for Kuchiki-taichō to try, only to be disappointed in the end.
At first, Kuchiki-taichō had seemed puzzled, possibly even suspicious, but accepted it in time without question. Renji suspected it was because he didn't want to let on that he had no idea what his fukutaichō was doing.
With every passing attempt, Renji gave a little ground. Okay, Taichō's reaction no longer had to be something melodramatic, such as spewing coffee all over his desk. It could just be a startled yelp, choking, a snort. Then, it didn't even have to be that. It could be a strange noise. A raised eyebrow. A murmur of pleasure if he enjoyed something. Anything.
Renji would serve him that morning's or afternoon's treat and tea, then would retreat back to his desk where he would surreptitiously watch for any alteration in behavior. At first, he had been unable to spot any deviation from the bland, indifferent expression Kuchiki-taichō normally wore. Over time though, he had, without really realizing it, become rather adept at noticing and even identifying a good deal of Kuchiki-taichō's reactions.
If he found the taste of something interesting, though not necessarily good or bad, his head would tip just slightly to the right and down as he regarded it a moment. Then would follow the inevitable second sip or bite where he would try to decide if he liked or disliked the taste. Very rarely would he need a third one, but in those cases that he did, the tilt would become a little more severe and his brows would draw in slightly. With anyone else, they would have looked like a befuddled puppy. He would then proceed to finish whatever puzzled him, or at least until he could arrive at a conclusion.
Renji had been surprised at first, when he had finally noticed it, just how appreciative Kuchiki-taichō could be of something he enjoyed. When he tasted something he liked, his face would become, impossibly, blander. As if he was trying to hide that fact that something had pleased him. His eyelids would dip a little lower, and he would finish whatever it was completely.
The man was a study in patience and delayed gratification. If it was something that he found particularly satisfying—which, if some sort of food, more often than not had a sharp, stinging spiciness to it—his eyes would widen slightly, then slip almost entirely closed with the next bite or drink. He wouldn't touch it for a while after that, sometimes to the point of an hour later. Then he would pause in his work and take another taste, savoring it. It was almost embarrassing to watch.
On those days, Taichō was much more lenient with Renji, especially if he didn't do something overly foolish, and Renji was always sure to take careful note of which things caused such a mood for later days. Days when he was perhaps running late or hadn't finished all his paperwork.
If he disliked the taste of something, his lips would press slightly into a flat line, his nose wrinkling just enough to be noticeable if one knew what to look for. If that something was also too sweet, Renji could spot a slight tensing in his taichō's jaw. It wasn't hard to figure out, after a week or two, that Taichō would only pick at certain things, and he wouldn't even touch them if they resembled a pastry or had any form of icing or sugary substance.
Once he had realized that Kuchiki-taichō severely disliked sweet things, Renji had set out to find the thickest, sugariest, tooth-achingly sweetest thing possible. The trick was finding such a food and being able to make it look normal rather than obviously, revoltingly saccharine.
Finally, success came in the form of a simple bun-like thing that ninth-seat had brought it. Knowing he liked sweet things, Mihane had offered him one. Renji had taken one bite of it and almost choked, mouth flooded with possibly the sweetest substance he had ever tasted. He could practically feel the cavities forming. As Mihane had apologized profusely, Renji had studied the offensive food like a man possessed. On the outside, it was a simple, pleasant reddish brown color. There was no obvious filling, jelly or otherwise, on the inside when he looked at it. Squeezing it experimentally did nothing, and it wasn't until he pinched it tightly between his thumb and index finger that he found the culprit. A thick, golden-brown syrup practically oozed from the bread, and the mere sight of it made his teeth hurt.
Oh.
Kuchiki-taichō would hate it.
And so it had appeared on a little plate next to Taichō's tea that afternoon. It was all Renji could do to set it down without showing how nervous he felt. If Taichō was almost nice when he had something he enjoyed, how much more . . . Kuchiki-like would he get if he was tricked into eating something he found disgusting?
Without really allowing himself to give it much more thought than that, Renji hurried back to his desk where he could watch in—he hoped—relative safety. Kuchiki-taichō ignored the bun at first, but after an excruciating half-hour he turned his attention to it. He poked delicately at it for a moment, even cut into it to examine the inside. Renji felt more panicked with every second. Finally, though, Kuchiki-taichō seemed assured of its innocence, and he cut off a good-sized piece and placed it in his mouth, already turning back to his paperwork—
And he froze with a sharp, almost inaudible, intake of breath, eyes widening fractionally, hand frozen in mid-air above his parchment. His mouth twisted, then flattened into a thin line, jaw becoming pronounced. He very, very obviously wished to spit it out, but seemed torn. His eyes snapped sharply to Renji's desk, and Renji jumped slightly at suddenly finding himself the target of intensely irritated grey eyes.
And knowing that someone was watching, Kuchiki forced himself to swallow the offending bit, though he looked—possibly, just possibly—the tiniest bit ill. He looked at the bun with all the force of his aristocratic disdain, then gently nudged the plate to the far end of the desk.
The urge that Renji had sometimes to fill silence with something—more often than not a regrettable trait—forced him to give a short, nervous laugh. To be honest, it probably wasn't all that loud—it only seemed deafening when Taichō continued to stare at him with that flat, displeased expression.
"So, uh . . . I guess—" he floundered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing that Kuchiki-taichō would look at something else. "I, uh, guess you didn't like that all that much, Taichō," he finished lamely.
Kuchiki-taichō's eyes narrowed slightly, and he pinned Renji with his stare for three eternities before he finally dropped it back to his paperwork. His hand made sharp, very audible marks on the paper. "I do not like sweet things," he said. And that was the end of the discussion.
After that, he would no longer touch anything new that Renji brought to him, so that method was closed. As way of apology, Renji brought only the things he knew for certain that his taichō enjoyed. He couldn't help but feel some regret, though, and not necessarily for knowingly giving Taichō something he would hate. After such an obvious—for Kuchiki Byakuya, anyway—reaction, he should have been appeased, but Renji found himself more and more intrigued.
Sure, Renji had seen his taichō obviously angry, but that wasn't what he wanted. What would someone have to do to cause Kuchiki-taichō to yell? To laugh, or look embarrassed, or shocked, frightened, incredulous, offended, or—gods forbid, he couldn't even imagine it—crying? Just what exactly would it take to make Kuchiki crack?
What would someone have to do to—
"Oi, RENJI!"
Renji jumped, knocking his sake over when Ikkaku punctuated his sentence with a sharp smack on the back of his head. The front of his shihakushō damp now with splattered sake, Renji swung around to look at the baldy sitting next to him.
"Dammit, what?" he snapped.
Ikkaku rolled his eyes and threw back his sake before responding, "You've sat there and stared into space every night for an entire month, idiot!"
Rangiku slammed a hand down on the table, nearly upsetting Renji's sake again and rattling the almost alarming number of dishes on the table. Somewhere between entering the izakaya with his friends and now, Rangiku had managed to get herself trashed. Not really surprising, but Renji was a little disconcerted that he hadn't noticed up until now.
"We're through, you hear me?" Rangiku slurred, leaning ridiculously far across the table to jab a finger into his chest. "Through. T-H-R-O . . . W-E . . . eh. A lady needs attention."
Renji rubbed the now-aching part of his chest absently and muttered, "Fine, sorry. You're right. Guess I haven't been the greatest company lately." He sighed, swirling the sake in its dish. "Just been thinkin'."
"Sorry we're not riveting company," Yumichika said dryly. "Perhaps you would rather sit with Kuchiki-taichō. I doubt he'd object to your silence."
Renji stilled, but didn't respond and continued to stare guiltily down into his sake. A slow smile spread across Yumichika's face.
"Oh?" he said, feathered eyebrow rising. "Daydreaming about Kuchiki-taichō, are we? I've got to say, Renji, the man is beautiful—and you know I'm a good judge—but his personality is . . . Well, I think intimacy with an ice sculpture would be more gratifying."
Renji waved a hand halfway through, and shook his head. "Nah, that's not it, and you know it," he said, giving him a pointed look. He set his sake down with a small sigh. "Just tryin' to think of what I can do to make him show a little feeling, ya know? Get him a bit emotional."
Yumichika frowned delicately. "Ah, Renji, that doesn't actually help your case."
"No, I don't mean it like that—I. Damn, Yumichika, you always tease me like I have some weird obsession with the man."
"Well, moron, you do," Ikkaku muttered. "Not that I don't understand wanting to get stronger, but come on. Single-minded, obsessive determination." He assumed a mock expression of grave seriousness and said, "I, Abarai Renji, will surpass Kuchiki Byakuya. In the meantime, I will follow his every move and stalk him. Because I love him."
Renji scowled and opened his mouth to make a comment about Ikkaku's incredible loyalty and hero-worship of his own captain, but didn't get a chance to.
"Renji's GAY?" Rangiku practically shrieked, spilling over her remaining sake bottle as she struggled to sit upright.
The izakaya, situated between a few of the division barracks and therefore a natural leisure spot for shinigami, became suddenly quiet.
"Kami, this explains a lot," Rangiku suddenly declared, as if a light had been switched on in her head. "Like why you ignore my boobs when Kuchiki's around, or why you can never get a date with a woman, or—"
"No, this doesn't explain anything! I'm not gay!" Renji hissed, waving his hands frantically in an attempt to quiet her. Those things were easily explained. Kuchiki-taichō would mildly say, "Focus, Abarai—you will never succeed in anything if you do not have the willpower to control your own thoughts and body," whenever Renji happened to be ogling the fairer sex.
And sometimes he was just too busy to date. It had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't find a willing woman. At all.
The shinigami around them were beginning to whisper and snicker. Yumichika and Ikkaku, meanwhile, were laughing so hard they were turning red in the face and just being absolutely no help at all.
"Well," Rangiku continued thoughtfully, oblivious to Renji's mounting mortification, "I guess if you look at him a certain way, he does look really pretty. He's really much too thin. I guess you would like that, though. And here I always thought you were after the other Kuchiki, but I guess . . . And I normally have such good intuition when it comes to things like that! I think maybe—oh, Renji! I'm going to help you! Don't worry about the Ice Prince, we'll definitely get you two together. We'll make a nice, romantic, totally out of the blue 'accident' where you both can be alone with each other. I know! I can lock you in a closet together and—"
Yumichika and Ikkaku continued to roll with laughter, occasionally pulling themselves together long enough to throw suggestions in, all which Rangiku ate up excitedly. The woman was a terror. No wonder Hitsugaya-taichō always looked pissed off.
Renji dropped his head into hands. Sometimes he hated his friends. Really, he did.
After a while, the romance plotting wound down enough that Renji was able to convince Rangiku—if not entirely, than at least enough that she would shut up about the whole thing—that he was not actually harboring a mad, forlorn love for his very male taichō.
Then he explained why he had been acting strangely, including everything about the taste-testing with Taichō and on to this new, almost driving need to make his taichō act . . . normal. Like everyone else. Like a living, breathing, feeling person. That was it. He wanted to be able to see the man, not the titles and breeding. Honestly, the whole division could do with a quick glimpse of that so they knew they weren't just following a heartless statue.
Renji had made that same mistaken assumption in the past, and it had ended very badly. Now, occasionally, he would see in a word or gesture, carefully covered in layers upon layers of arrogance and cutting words, the gentle kindness and understanding that Kuchiki-taichō possessed.
Kuchiki was his pride, was his nobility. But he was also more than that, and it wouldn't hurt him to show it every once in a while.
"Bah, surely it's not all that hard to get him to fumble," Ikkaku muttered.
Yumichika snorted softly. "On the contrary, the man has had many years to perfect that cool attitude of his. I think it would take something considerable to force him to slip."
"He doesn't ever notice my boobs," Rangiku pouted. "He's worse than Tōshirō."
"It took me weeks to get even a small reaction out of him," said Renji, disheartened.
"Because you were serving him tea and biscuits, Renji!" Ikkaku said, smacking the table with an open palm. "What you need to do is shock him. Do something drastic. That'll get him to react."
"I actually find myself in agreement with Ikkaku," Yumichika said. "Though I'm sure his ideas would be ill-considered and graceless, whereas mine would be obvious masterpieces that your taichō couldn't helpbut fall prey to."
Ikkaku sneered at Yumichika nastily. "Yeah, you wish you could do better than me. I would have Kuchiki-hime acting like a completely different person with some of the stuff I did."
"I really doubt that. Your plans always tend to result in destroyed architecture and, more often than not, explosions that result in even more property damage. And unless you intend to shock Kuchiki-taichō with the level of destruction you can inflict on Seireitei, I doubt you could outdo me in getting a reaction."
"I'll 'property-damage' my fist into your face, and then have Kuchiki begging for mercy next to you!"
"And you called me gay," Renji muttered.
"I bet he'd notice me if I was naked," Rangiku sighed.
The three men stopped talking for a moment to allow the mental image of a naked Rangiku to run through their heads. A rock would notice her. Also—
"I know how we can settle this," Renji said suddenly. "It's a great idea! Bet me. Whoever can get Kuchiki-taichō to react noticeably wins. But you have to be able to prove it."
The other two stared at him.
"Actually, that's a really bad idea," Yumichika said slowly. "Things like these have a tendency to get horribly out of hand. And besides, what would we do? Hound him until he cries for mercy?"
"I don't know," Renji shrugged. "Whatever you felt was necessary, I guess. Wait. There has to be some rules. Can't have Ikkaku blowing up the Kuchiki manor."
"Hey!" Ikkaku growled.
"I can think it over and get back to you tomorrow night. And if you guys keep quiet about it, then it should be fine."
They all turned to look at Rangiku pointedly, but she had passed out on the tabletop.
"Well?" Renji asked.
Ikkaku shrugged, "Tch, it's a way to kill time."
"I don't know," Yumichika said hesitantly. "It sounds very . . . suicidal, to be perfectly honest. Perhaps in the morning you will not think it such a good idea."
Renji shrugged but knew without a doubt that he would feel the same later on. "At least think about it. You could use the money for all that fancy hair-crap you use."
Yumichika assented, though with a small scowl.
"That settles it," Renji said with a wicked, anticipatory grin.
He had some planning to do. Kuchiki-taichō wouldn't know what hit him.
A little slow, yes, but it'll pick up. Thanks for reading, review if you enjoyed it or having anything to say!