Title: Give me Envy

Pairing: HichiIchi

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mild OOC-ness, AU themes, Homosexual themes, profanities, mentions of sex, angst and some other things I can't think of right now.

Disclaimer: Nope.

Summary: AU FANTASY ONESHOT. HichiIchi. He thought it was a simple reason like Shiro being jealous, so he's duly surprised that it was something much more then that.

A/N: It's another fantasy-esque oneshot! Since people liked Get The Picture, I decided to do another one!

Whoa, been a while since I've done one…this was randomly inspired by…well…I was practising Lord Cutt's March and the idea just hit me when I was ranting about that annoying 3rd position (Shakes fist) Stupid 3rd position! How am I going to go from fourth in 3rd position to a flat F in 1st position under a half second!?

Sorry, sorry, but it really does piss me off. 'Specially when I need to do it on Monday…(shudders).

There's some angst in this, and I decided to take up on Phritzen's challenge too :3 Eheheheh… I'm trying a different approach to their relationship in this, sooo…this is also an experimentation fic.

Anyway, enough of that, hope y'all enjoy!

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"Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention! Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!"

-- Time to Dance, Panic! At the Disco

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GIVE ME ENVY

Shiro stared down into the cockpit with what one could call concern. Though if anyone dared insinuate that the albino could feel anything aside from excitement or malicious enjoyment, they would immediately get the shit kicked out of them, courtesy to an in denial Shiro. "…Wha' are ya doin' up, Brat?"

There was a yelp of surprise, followed by a hollow clang of the teen's head smashing into the underside of the control panel. Shiro snickered in amusement at the groan of pain, crouching down to peer closer at the cringing redhead's form. "Oooh, watch yer head!" He leant back on his heels with a smirk, golden eyes glittering. "So, wha' are ya doin' up?"

With a sound of shuffling, brown eyes glowered angrily at the grinning albino, brows furrowed in a displeased frown. "I'm…making some adjustments." Ichigo finally growled, wiping his cheek and leaving a slimy streak of oil on the tanned skin. "What are you doing up?"

Shiro raised his hands up in defence. "'Ey, 'ey! No need t' be so hostile, Brat." Lowering his pale hands, the albino squinted at the redhead. "Ya do realize tha' th' grease monkeys will be makin' adjustments b'fore th' race, right? Ya should be asleep."

"Yeah, well…" Ichigo paused, wiping his oiled hands on his black slacks absently. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might as well do something to occupy my time."

Shiro paused, lips sloping downwards. "Ya nervous?" With a soft sigh, the albino leant down and grabbed a bare, tanned arm. "Up ya get, Brat." He snickered, pulling the squawking teen out of the cockpit. "Ya goin' t' sleep now."

"Tch." Ichigo snatched his arm back, rubbing the spot where the older man hand was. "Fine, fine…He wrinkled his nose at the smudged grey coating his hands. "But I need a shower first…"

"Yeah, ya do stink a lil'." Shiro commented cheerfully. He waved a hand before his face to emphasise his point, easily stepping away from the teen's smack. "Alrigh'! Go fer a shower an' sleep! It wouldn' do fer th' replacement of th' great, legendary, awesome Shiro t' smell 'orrible." Shiro's grin widened as his 'replacement's cheeks reddened in rage, brown eyes narrowing. Ah, he was so easy to rile up! It was pretty adorable, actually.

"Shut up, old man!" Ichigo barked. "You're not so 'legendary' and 'awesome' now!" Scowling at the deranged giggle, he stomped past the albino and down the catwalk towards the showers. "At least I can pilot for the finals!" He shouted back, and was satisfied by the laughter stopping short with an enraged growl.

It was a low blow, but he had been taking shots below the belt from the albino for two whole weeks and quite frankly, he was getting tired of it. The albino was constantly on his case, telling him that his efforts were pathetic, how a ten year old girl could pilot better then him, how inferior he was, oh a bunch of other things! He needed to keep a damn list just to remember all of the transgressions the ex-pilot did to him.

The showers were open stalled, since they were for the engineers jumping in to get the oil off them before going home for a proper shower (after all, who wants to walk though the city covered in oil?) and Ichigo sent a paranoid look over his shoulder, perturbed by the absence of the albino. Maybe he stomped off in a tantrum, which usually happened whenever his inability to pilot for the finals was brought up. Nodding to himself, he shrugged off his dirtied t-shirt and kicked off his black slacks.

Casting another look around the silent and empty shower room (which suddenly seemed incredibly creepy), he snatched a towel from the rack in the corner and draped it over the shower stall door, wriggling out of his boxers in the process. He started up the shower, quickly wiping off the clingy oil from his tanned skin.

"I'm still legendary y'know."

Ichigo yelped a second time that night, snapping his head around fast enough that it cricked painfully. Rubbing his sore neck, the redhead glowered at the albino leaning on his shower stall's door. "I'm sure you are." He growled, turning round and shivering at feeling the ex-pilot's eyes between his shoulder blades. "Stop staring at me."

"Ehehe…such a prude." Shiro snickered, a soft creak as he pushed away from the shower stall's door. "Yer very uptight, loosen up a lil', Brat."

"Shut up." Ichigo grumbled, turning the shower off and grasping the towel and hurriedly towelling himself dry. "I thought you went off to sulk or sleep." He muttered at last, hair tousled from the frantic drying.

"Nah." Shiro winked suavely at the flushing teen. "I stayed up t' make sure nothin' happens t' ya. Big match tomorrow, eh?" He laughed.

There it was, the queasy flip of his stomach at the mention of THE MATCH. The finals that'll decide on whether he'd be known as the replacement that succeeded the legendary Shirosaki, or the replacement that flunked and dishonoured the whole Seireitei branch. It was a make or break situation, and the mere thought made him want to stab something, preferably Shiro or the opponent (unfortunately such an action would not be wise at this point in time, so he reined those urges in). "Y-yeah…"

Shiro blinked at the slight hesitance to his replacement's tone. "…Yer nervous." It was a statement, not a question.

"No." Ichigo snapped, wrapping the towel round his waist and nudging the stall open. "It's just that either way, win or lose, I'm gonna be known as 'the replacement'. Pisses me off…" He frowned at the albino, waving him away. "Hey, some privacy?"

Shiro laughed, tilting his head to the side as his golden eyes roamed the teen's body. He had to admit, his replacement was a good one, lithe body, sinewy muscles and firm skin. The vibrant orange hair was unconventional, very much like him, and those brown eyes were so expressive. "Tha's true, Brat. Bu' after this, ya can ride out on yer own, eh? Then ya name would be up there next t' mine…though I'd still be top."

Ichigo sent an odd look at the albino. "Are you trying to cheer me up?" He murmured, slightly suspicious. His fingers hooked round the edge of his towel, making sure the fabric wouldn't slip down his hips as his brows furrowed thoughtfully at the golden eyes gazing at him, half lidded. "Shiro?"

"Hmm?" Shiro glanced up. "'Course not, Brat. I'm jus' tryin' t' make sure ya won' go all emo an' throw th' race. I can't finish it, so my replacement should."

Ichigo scowled. "Tch. I don't know why you can't do it yourself, the crash didn't do any lasting damage on you and you seem perfectly fine to me." He left his dirtied clothes on the floor there, not wanting to dirty himself again and stepped over them. "Or are you just being lazy?"

"Lazy?" Shiro growled. "I ain't bein' lazy, Brat. If I could, I would, bu' unfortunately th' doctor's orders are law 'ere." The albino glowered down at his replacement, upper lip curling up in a leer. "'Sides, I'm sure ya will win anyway, since they hafta use their weak pilot."

Ichigo twitched at the hidden barb, but didn't rise to the bait. "Whatever, jerk. I don't have to do it, y'know?" He turned his head away from the smouldering eyes, jaw clenching. "I can easily say that I don't want to race, and that'll be that."

"Bu' ya won'." Shiro snorted, though there was a hint of apprehensiveness in there. "'Cause if ya race an' win, you'd get t' be fa-"

"You'll get all the credit for being the one to train me. I can see it now… 'A nameless teenager turned into a championship Mecha Racer thanks to the legendary Shirosaki'!" Ichigo snapped. "It's not like you have much faith in me either." His fingers clenched in the hem of the towel, resisting the urge to punch something.

"…" Shiro hated to admit it, but the brat was right. Something about the teen aggravated him, made him want to push the redhead as far as he could go and tough him up. Misplaced envy or otherwise, he wasn't sure, but he didn't like to have it pointed out. "Now tha' ain't true, brat. I have plenty o' faith in ya."

Ichigo snorted, head snapping round to pin a smouldering glare at the albino. "Yeah right. You're jealous, jealous that you're unable to race and that some kid is taking your spot in the finals that you worked your whole life to get to. That's why you've been on my case ever since I got here."

…

Shiro was…flabbergasted. The brat had hit the nail on the head! If he ever flunked as a Mecha Racer, he could always be a fucking psychiatrist! The shower room became eerily silent then, the heavy, angry breaths from the redhead filling the tense space. Shiro was finally able to pull himself together then. "I…guess yer right." He muttered grudgingly. "So I was jealous of ya…shouldn' ya be smug over tha'?"

Whatever response Ichigo was expected, it was obvious that he wasn't expecting that one. "W-what? Why would I be smug?! I'm pretty annoyed at it that's what!" He stepped forward to prod the middle of the albino's chest, eyes narrowed and blazing. "It's petty, and…and distracting!"

Shiro scowled, twisting his head away slightly. "Petty, huh? Well can ya blame me!? I was this-" He squeezed his index and middle finger together. "-Close to achievin' my life's goal…an' one pathetic crash durin' the semi-finals changed tha'! A fuckin' brat then comes along an' steals my thunder!" He was angry at this brat, having the gall to say all that shit to him (even if it was true).

Ichigo's eyes narrowed further. "There's always next year! If you're as legendary as you say, then you just have to wait until you're heal-"

"I can't." The sheer pain in that voice made Ichigo pause, narrowed eyes widening at the suddenly defeated aura around the albino. "I can't race again! Don' ya see tha' ya fuckin' moron! There's no next year, or th' year after that! I'm not allowed t' even sit in th' cockpit let alone drive th' damn thing!" There was sharp inhalation of breath, golden eyes snapping down between them. "A fuckin' head injury. Or neural one, I dunno wha' th' fuck it was…bu' I can't race again because of it."

Ichigo stared. He thought it was simple bout of jealously, or irritation on having to wait until next year! Not, something quite intense as this. Suddenly, Ichigo found himself mentally floundering at what to say. 'Sorry' didn't seem wise. "Oh." He finally said, cringing inwardly at the flat, dull tone. How sympathetic.

"Hn." Shiro shrugged a shoulder stiffly, head carefully bowed as he crossed his arms. "So yer righ', I'm jealous. C'mon, ya can be smug fer once."

Who'd have thought a discussion this illuminating and serious would happen in a shower room, with one of the conversationalists' decency only protected by a towel? Not Ichigo, that's for sure. "No…" Ichigo murmured, looking away as the bitter taste of shame began crawling up his throat. "I'd be no better then you if I was smug over this." He injected the barb in to hopefully elevate the tension that had suddenly sprung up, choking and stifling in its intensity.

Shiro made an odd noise, kind of like a choked snort. "Nice t' see tha' ya view me in a good light." There was something strained in the albino's tone. "Well, whatever. I'm goin' t' bed." Shiro spun abruptly on his heel, or tried to, but Ichigo carefully stopped the action by grasping the albino's arm firmly.

"Shiro, I-" Ichigo paused as he scrutinized the older man's face, eyes widening at the almost invisible wet tracks down pale cheeks. "Are you crying!?" He didn't mean for his voice to come out that bewildered and shocked, but the electrifying thought sent him reeling with the realization: 'He can cry!?'

It was mind boggling.

Shiro jolted, recoiling as if struck. "W-wha? No! No, of course not!" His hand quickly smacked at his pale cheeks, the evidence of a lapse in the albino's composure swiped away harshly. "It's nothin'."

But Ichigo's brain was on high alert, brown eyes narrowing as he stared intently at the older man's darkened eyes. Tonight wasn't really the time for all this drama, but he'll be damned before he just let someone visibly upset wander off and do something stupid (this was Shiro, the man who pulled crazy stunts when he was calm, who knew what he'd do when upset). "No, it's not." Sadly, Ichigo wasn't inbuilt with an inane comforting instinct like females were, and Shiro would laugh at him if he tried to do something sappy, upset or not. "I…uh, can't they…y'know…fix it?"

Oh, how intelligent. Dumbass.

The look Shiro gave him was answer enough and Ichigo sighed. "Well, you can cry, I guess…" He muttered hesitantly. His mind was still reeling from the fact that the guy that irritated him to no end was crying, or rather, was crying, the albino was now eyeing with something akin to mirthless amusement, if such a thing existed. "I mean…your life sucks now."

…

He really needs to work on this, doesn't he?

Shiro laughed, low and husky. "Yer an idiot." He smirked, an unknown emotion lurking behind golden irises. "A fuckin', A grade idiot." He snickered at the embarrassed flush on tanned cheeks, gaze flickering to the side. "Bu'…" He grinned suddenly, a thought arising to fore. "Thanks, I guess."

Ichigo blinked at the words of gratitude, but before he could question the albino on his out of character-ness, he was suddenly swept up in a firm embrace, a mortified squeak slipping out. "S-Shiro!?" He felt the ex-pilot grin in his hair, the chuckles ruffling his still damp orange tresses. "Bastard! This isn't funny!"

Shiro didn't mind getting his clothes wet from the moisture still clinging to the teen's body, nosing the damp tresses and inhaling the faintest whiff of oil mixed with sea water. The fact that this discomforted the redhead greatly made him grin giddily. "Oh, it is." He assured, leaning back to smirk at the flushed features. "Bu' I should really thank ya fer ya clumsy efforts t' cheer me up prop'ly, eh?"

Confusion and apprehension in brown eyes glittered brightly. "What are you up to?" Ichigo snapped, mortified by the uncertain quiver in his voice. Great, he tries to cheer up the jerk and then this happens! Why does this happen to him!?

"This." Shiro swooped down, crushing their lips together. He shuddered at the muffled yelp, the lips parting for him involuntarily. Taking the opportunity, he pushed his rough tongue into the warm cavern, making sure to explore every inch. He felt fingers clutch the front of his shirt, trembling with uncertainty, as he pulled back, smug smirk in place. "Like it?"

"W-what…?" Ichigo blinked frantically, wondering if this was some weird mirage. "Huh?" He felt his towel slip, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. How the hell could such a serious conversation take so many twists and turns!? "What the hell was that about!?"

Shiro snickered, moving one hand to the younger male's side, fingers rubbing circles on the damp skin. "It was a proper thank you." He grinned wildly at the enraged look on the redhead's features, feeling that night had been a productive one despite his brief…loss of composure. "An' a good luck kiss fer tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ichigo blinked before realization kicked in. "Gah! I forgot!" He looked at his wrist, staring at the bare skin blankly before remembering that he took it off for the shower. It was probably two in the morning now because of this bastard! "It's late, and I shou-" He was abruptly cut off by pale lips claiming his again. "Mphsfio!"

Shiro inwardly cackled, carefully nudging the towel off slim hips as he deepened the kiss. There was a reluctant moan from the teen's throat, the fingers clenching tightly round the fabric of his shirt and tugging him unconsciously closer. He wondered, briefly, if he should stop now, because this little game was getting out of hand, but then he remembered the incredulity of the redhead's face when he spotted his tears, the mix of concern, and thought that, perhaps, he could try to put aside his jealously for the moment. The teen was handsome, and his rude, sarcastic nature was greatly amusing too. You'd have to be blind not to be attracted.

Plus, it was fun teasing the redhead like this. He was so easily riled up!

Ichigo clung to the albino tighter, feeling his heart beat a rapid tempo against his chest and the blood drain to his groin. The things the older man was doing to him with his mouth was heaven, the calloused hand on his hip trailing down to cup his bare rump and draw him close. Why was he allowing the bastard who made his life hellish for the past two weeks touch him like this? He heard his common sense screamed. Push him off! He's taking advantage of you to rub this in your face later!

Shiro pulled away, meeting half lidded brown eyes. He grinned at the anger spotted there, and winked slyly. "Bu' though I'm sure a good luck kiss will suffice." He purred heatedly, wondering how far he could go before the teen's anger lashed out. "How 'bout good luck sex, Brat?"

SMACK

Shiro giggled, rubbing his stinging cheek as the redhead finally snapped, stomping away and shouting angrily about 'albinos' and 'perverts'. He turned round, the shower room's door slamming shut. His maniacal grin softened into a small smile, golden eyes lowering to the tiled floor.

"…Thank you, Ichigo."

X.x.X

It had been a while.

Ichigo frowned at the albino before him, running a hand through tousled hair as the sudden blankness of his mind mad him agitated. "Hey, Shiro." He said at last, looking up to see amused golden eyes. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Eh…" Shiro shrugged lazily, leaning back on his heels as the other pilots talked amongst themselves in the club. An old get together for famous pilots, and Shiro was glad to know that despite his accident two years ago, his name still carried some weight in the Mecha Racing world. He wasn't surprised to see the redhead here, after all, he went far after winning the Finals two years ago as Shirosaki's replacement and kept the title of Champion. "I've been busy in retirement, y'know."

"Huh." Ichigo looked away. "You weren't there when I left." He muttered.

"Thought ya didn' wanna see th' perverted albino again, since I was such a bastard t' ya." Shiro chirped cheerfully, golden eyes half lidded and coloured with an indescribable emotion. "Sorry, I guess. Didn' know ya cared 'bout me tha' much."

Ichigo looked back again, an almost shy taint to the old anger in brown eyes. "Your kiss did give me good luck." He mumbled. "And you haven't committed suicide yet, so I guess my 'clumsy cheering up' worked, huh?"

Shiro chuckled wearily. "Yep. It was cute." He decided to shrug off the charade, stepping forward and embracing the younger male again. "Y'know…" He murmured softly into orange tresses, this time they weren't damp, or had a faint scent of oil, they were silky and smelt of seawater. "My offer on good luck sex still stands…" He felt the seventeen year old chuckle against the crook of his neck, the warm breath making goosebumps shiver over his pale skin.

"Pervert. Don't think I've forgotten about all those things you said about me." Ichigo muttered, pressing a soft kiss against the pale skin. No one had noticed them yet, which was great in his opinion. The paparazzi were like bloodhounds. He smirked at the shuddering breath and teased the skin with his teeth and tongue, sucking on the skin and leaving a mark. "But I'm willing to forgive."

"What happened t' th' prudish brat in th' shower room?" Shiro whispered hoarsely, though he definitely sounded pleased. His golden eyes flickered around the room, looking for the door leading to the rooms upstairs. Thank god they held it here in a hotel! "No' tha' I'm complain', 'course."

Ichigo laughed, leaning back and arching against the slighter body. "Of course." There was still anger in his eyes, but it was tarnished, old and weak. "So, when do you want this 'good luck sex'?"

It was true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder. But it's also true that there's a fine line between love and hate, all that's needed is a little…push, to jumpstart emotions.

For example, molesting them in the shower room and leaving an option of free sex.

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A/N: Could not resist the final sentence. XP

No sex, sorry, but it didn't fit in with this story. I hope I made what kind of relationship they had clear, because I was trying for the 'absence makes the heart fonder' thing…oh well, dunno if I succeeded…

Oh, and Shiro's injury was a head injury that affected the brain. From the top of my head, he suffered a head injury that affect his nervous system, whenever large doses of adrenaline enter his bloodstream, such as from Mecha Racing, it overloads his nervous system and causes him to go paralytic.

And if you were curious Phritzen's challenge was to make Shiro cry but be in character at the same time. Hope I did well...

Hope y'all enjoyed!