A/N: This is based off a role play. Elevator sex is hot. Enough said.
With the death of Aizen, the world fell back into a state of peace. Ichigo had lost his shinigami powers, leaving the human world defenseless, which led to the decision to leave the team in the world of the living for a while longer.
Months had barely passed, and already, the shinigami were adapting to this world. Ikkaku and Yumichika got their own apartment, Matsumoto got a high paying job in the fashion business as a photographer, and Hitsugaya could only get away with posing as a student, much to his dismay. Ichigo went back to his normal routine of school, home, and seeing the occasional ghost. The biggest change of the team was Renji.
It seemed the huge battle had changed him greatly. Over the months, he'd thrown out the hippie style clothes for darker, more flattering threads. He'd gotten a job working in auto-body, to pay for his own place, away from the shop. With that job, came tanned skin from long days working under the sun, as well as working under the hood, and more defined muscle. He wasn't flabby, nor was he unfit. But lifting heavy pieces of machinery, day after day, sure as hell built some nice muscle.
He also smoked more, drank more, acted like his fellow mechanic co-workers. His shinigami friends noticed the changes, and didn't know if they liked this new attitude, or missed the old one. In one way, he became as if a cold, hard shell had covered him. He didn't joke or laugh like he used to. But at the same time, he was more serious, more mature. Maybe almost dying was what did it.
The biggest, more shocking change was what his friends seemed to miss the most. He no longer fancied Rukia. He, finally, realized she wasn't into him, and left it at that.
Friday evening. The last day of work for the week. Renji was looking forward to going home to his apartment, filling the tub and taking a nice, long soak to relax his aching arms and back. He trudged through the dingy lobby of the high-rise and pressed the call button of the elevator, cringing at every crash of thunder. The storm outside was raging with a vengeance. The perfect ending to a day that started with a headache-evolved-to-migraine. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of blue strolled through the entrance, towards the elevator.