Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

This is based on a request from Shiranai Atsune, who wanted Fem!Ichigo/Male!Rukia/Toushirou

Ichigo leaned back in her bed and stared at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the fact that there was a man in her closet, attempting to sleep. Man was a strong word. He looked like a teenager. A tiny teenager. He was short, with dark hair that curled around his ears and he seemed comfortable being shut in a closet.

No, the reason she maintained the need to call him a man was because he was probably at least a hundred and fifty years old. This had been explained to her by little Toushirou, who her sister liked to kick footballs into his face. He was apparently also more than a hundred years old.

At a normal, human fifteen years of age, she was actually the youngest one in this weird little non-relationship that had been building between them. With Rukia in his closet every night, occasionally bothering her with late-night philosophical conversations or making noises that she'd rather not think about (but totally couldn't not think about it).

She herself was tall, with orangey red hair ample breasts and too many sharp angles. She wondered vaguely if her attraction to Toushirou spawned from the attraction he felt to Rukia as they were of a height and both older than her, despite all appearances to the contrary.

The closet door was abruptly flung open. Ichigo jerked to face Rukia, who was glaring at her. "You are literally thinking so loudly that I can sense it," he snapped.

Ichigo's eyebrows drew together. "You can do that? Mind read?" Why had no one told her about this?

"No," Rukia said after a moment. A long moment. "But I can feel the tension rolling off you. The reiatsu in this room is churning and starting to get in my space."

"Sorry," Ichigo grumbled. "I'll try to pull it back."

Rukia started to slide the closet closed again but paused. "What are you thinking about, anyway?"

Ichigo flinched. "Nothing important." She flopped back, staring pointedly toward the ceiling before closing her eyes.

They snapped open again when a warm breath coasted over her face. Rukia was leaning over her and swiftly climbing onto the bed. "Ichigo," he whispered. "You don't have to lie."

Ichigo licked her lips. "Do you actually want me? Or is this just because you know how I feel and you wouldn't mind some stress release?"

Rukia reared back. "If that's what you think, I—"

"What are you two doing?"

Both turned to face Hitsugaya, dressed in the jeans and t-shirt his gigai always wore, in the window. "Taicho," Rukia murmured in some surprise.

Ichigo slid lower on the bed, face flushed. Just what he needed. Now if her one of her sisters –or her father—burst in, her night would be complete.

"This is highly inappropriate."

"Oh, don't be like that," Rukia said, a tinge of his evil smirk in place. "Come, join us."

Toushirou stiffened. "What?"

"Come on, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I fail to see how this is an adventure."

Ichigo was turning as red as the strawberry she shared her name with. "Guys, let's just ignore all this and go back to sleep like normal people—er, Shinigami."

Toushirou scoffed. "I'm leaving."

"He won't stay unless you ask him too," Rukia whispered, his lips warm against Ichigo's cheek.

Ichigo's heart skipped a beat. "Stay," she whispered.

Toushirou, already halfway out the window, paused, looking back. "I'm sorry?"

She swallowed and repeated, "Stay. Please stay."

He hesitated for just a moment longer, then sagged, turned the rest of the way around. "Okay."

Ichigo held out her hand for him even as she turned her face up to Rukia's hard kiss. Toushirou's cool touch mixed wonderfully with Rukia's heat.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think!