"Hey, babe, you must be a Hollow, cuz' you're makin' my Zanpakuto go Bankai!"
The owner of the 'Zanpakuto' in question was a certain Kurosaki Ichigo. That tall, ginger cynic and known perv. But don't call him that to his face, or he'll kick you into the middle of next week, and that's a promise.
The 'babe' in question was not, surprisingly, a bountiful-breasted beauty of the school, such as Miss Inoue Orihime, or even a slight sweetie such as Miss Kuchiki Rukia.
Instead, it was a young man. One Uryu Ishida- dark haired, dark eyed, bespectacled Emo kid. But don't call him that to his face, or he'll sew your mouth shut, and that's a promise.
The Emo groaned, rolling his eyes. "No, I am not a Hollow. And I'd appreciate a few less cheesy pick-up lines, Strawberry."
Ichigo frowned. "That was a good one and you know it! And don't call me 'Strawberry'!"
"I'll stop calling you 'Strawberry' when you stop being a loser," countered Ishida expertly.
The two teenagers were in a hallway. School was beginning for the day, and Ishida had been there an hour already. Punctual and prompt as ever. Ichigo had arrived only twenty seconds previously. Late and sloppy as always. The moment he'd stepped into the building, however, he'd made something of a bee-line (call it a horn-dog-line) for the general area of Ishida's locker.
His excuse was that his locker was right beside it. But there wasn't a thing in there that he needed, and the both of them knew it. The spot was just a convenient area for Ichigo attempting to get laid.
"Well then you'll never call me loser again," he said, leaning on the metal fronts of the wall of cubbies, "Seeing as I am nothing but a winner." He closed his eyes smugly, pointing a thumb to his chest.
"A winner, eh?" Ishida asked, an eyebrow rising smoothly behind glasses. "By what standards, exactly?"
"I'm the best."
"At what?"
"Everything."
Ishida rolled his eyes. "Let's hear a random example then, shall we?"
"I'm smartest in my class," Ichigo lied blatantly.
"So that's, what?" asked Ishida, "Rather like being the cleverest kid on the short bus?"
Ichigo frowned. "I'm the sanest in my family!" (He was clearly not counting at least one of his sisters.)
"Hmm. Not unlike the sanest person in the asylum?" Ishida couldn't hide the smirk. He was ever-so-satisfied with his own cleverness.
"AND," Ichigo plowed stubbornly onwards, "I'm the best Hollow-hunter there is!"
The next thing the red-head knew, he'd been slammed to the lockers, back striking the cold metal with a bang. Ishida was pinning him there roughly, front of his uniform shirt twisted in a pale-handed grip.
"Take that back," he growled dangerously, eyes and spectacles flashing.
Ichigo got over his shock and laughed. "Make me!"
Ishida's jaw cracked. "Don't make me- you know I will."
"Ooh, that a threat or a promise?" Ichigo taunted, waggling his brows suggestively.
"Bold words for somebody pinned three inches off the ground," the dark-hared boy said.
Ichigo looked down. Huh. So he was. Well, you couldn't accuse the skinny kid of being unfit, that was for sure. If he could lift Ichigo up like this, he couldn't help but wonder what else he might be able to do with him.
His leg spun out in a kick that caught the other boy in the shins. Ishida went down with a small startled gasp, eyes going wide in surprise as he hit the linoleum tile.
The next thing the boy knew, the uke/seme roles had been sufficiently switched, and Ichigo was pinning the smaller boy to the ground.
Ishida looked around desperately. How wasn't anybody noticing this???
Oh. They were alone. The bell must've rung while he was distracted. Damn.
"So, I think we all know who wins THIS competition," Ichigo said in a low voice, very close to Ishida's ear.
"Get off of me, Ichigo!" he said loudly. He attempted to kick up at him, but found the way impeded by the boy's knees- firmly over his own pant legs, preventing motion. Just as the hands around his wrists pinned his arms.
"Why should I?" he asked, laughing a bit. He nuzzled Ishida's neck, breathing the soft, clean smell of the boy in deeply.
"B-because!" he said, stammering as a blush grew in his face. Ichigo was now kissing lightly along his neck, up to his ear, where he murmured, "Because why?"
His breath tickled.
"Because I said so!" Ishida said, squirming as Ichigo kissed across his face and nose.
"That's not a very good reason," he laughed, hands flexing their grip. Ishida felt something hot and warm on his ear- did Ichigo just lick him?
Wait- OW. No. He'd bit him. It wasn't rough, but it was still obvious. His stomach flip-flopped. "G-get off-" he said, voice much lighter and softer now.
"One good reason," Ichigo said, licking the bite, "Just one good reason. And I'll climb right off…" His voice took on an arrogant tone, "if you even want me off."
Ishida wavered for half a second. DID he want this to stop? No. But the cold floor at his back reminded him of where they were. The middle of the school hallway, late for classes. Too risky. The least they could do would be a school bathroom, honestly…
"I won't ever let you kiss me again," he threatened in a sudden stroke of brilliance. Ichigo froze. It had worked. It had more then worked.
He climbed off in a hurry, standing up as Ishida righted himself, smirk returned to its proper place.
"At least give me a chance to win you over," Ichigo said miserably. The thought of suffering through even a day without Ishida's lips… unbearable. Like, seriously, don't even joke!
"Ok, fine," Ishida said, dusting off his pants legs primly, "Impress me. If you succeed-" he lingered for dramatic effect, eyes rising to meet Ichigo's. "Then I'm all yours." Anybody else would have winked.
"Ok, fine, deal," Ichigo said, nodding quickly, "Anything you say…" His face took on a look- he was clearly plotting already.
The sound of footsteps approaching ominously from around the corner made them both start.
They took one last glance at one another, and then took off in their respective directions, not wanting to be caught. After all, this was a learning institution, you hooligans!
† † †
"You know, it ain't the size of the Zanpakuto that matters," Kurosaki Ichigo said in a slick voice as the next period break found the two boys meeting at their lockers once again, "It's the soul energy."
Ishida closed his locker, turning his head to give his partner a look of great distain. "You've got to be joking, Strawberry," he said, shaking his head before turning to walk away.
"That was great!" Ichigo yelled, watching the boy walk, "And my name isn't Strawberry!"
† † †
"I love you as many times as I almost died," he tried again at lunch. The line was long, and he shouted it over about eight people in front of him to relay the message to the Quincy, who merely groaned as his face met his palm.
He didn't even dignify it with a response until he'd bought his lunch- curry with cheese, hot and unidentifiable as every other school lunch- and made it back to his table.
"Well?" Ichigo said, sliding into place beside him a moment later. "That one worked, didn't it?"
"…Not even close, Strawberry," Ishida said, not even looking up from his food to see the other boy's crestfallen features.
They went on with their meal as they were joined by Chad, Rukia, Whorihime- oops, I mean Orihime- and Tatsuki.
Ichigo sulked then entire time. Or perhaps that was cleverly disguised plotting. After all, Ichigo was a famous brain and able to hide such things with masterful skill and- …Oh, wait, no he isn't. Never mind.
† † †
Ishida was ambushed at his locker once more as he attempted to retrieve his shoes at the end of the day. Damn. Ichigo had even held out an extra hour- waiting on sewing club- just to get a chance to try again. Ishida almost found it sweet.
Almost.
"So there's this rumor going around that I'm straight," Ichigo said in a casual, conversational tone, "Let's you and me fix that, yaoi-boy."
Ishida thought in pantomime for a moment, mouth puckering and finger and thumb resting on his chin in a pure contemplative look.
"No!" he finally said, grinning and speaking in an equally conversational tone before pulling on his shoes and leaving the building, calling, "See you, Strawberry!"
† † †
Ishida thought he had escaped as he walked home, mercifully alone and away from come-ons and annoyance.
"If I could hit the alphabet with my Bankai until it rearranged, I'd make sure it put "U" and "I" together," Ichigo deftly ruined the peace.
"Straw-" began Ishida, but he was cut off.
"Unless you'll be mine, I'll steal away all that Quincy 'honor'," threatened Ichigo.
"Ber-" went on Ishida.
"So, you giving out applications to join your fanclub yet?" he asked with a grin.
"Ry-" he continued on.
"I heard about a slash pairing club for us on deviantArt, I can link you," he offered, "AND DON'T CALL ME STRAWBERRY!"
Ishida stopped in his tracks, crossing arms seriously.
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"Why?" whined the taller young man.
"Because NO."
Ishida walked off on home, leaving Ichigo in his dust, pouting like a dejected Demyx puppy.
† † †
That night, back at home, Ishida found himself in his room, quite alone. Peace and solitude at last! After a day like that, a bit of quiet time to work on his homework and catch up on his reading was much needed and welcomed.
But as he closed his file folder on his studies and pulled out his latest novel, a wave of uneasiness swept through the Quincy, churning his stomach uncomfortably.
Ichigo's face swam in his mind, grinning… then looking as if he might cry. The thought of it toyed with his usually icy-cool heart.
"Maybe I was too hard on him," Ishida muttered to himself contemplatively, "All he was trying to do was get a kiss." He leaned forwards, resting his face in a hand, elbow on his desk, palm distorting his cheek.
"The least I could have done would have been to pretend to like the jokes…" he sighed, fiddling with his glasses. "And some of them were actually not half bad! Kinda of amusing, really…"
He folded his arms on his desktop, laying his head down in them with a sigh. "That was really unfair of me. I should try to make it up to him tomorrow… Poor Ichigo. He really didn't want much. And he tried so hard…" As if he hoped his message would somehow reach the ginger's ears, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ichigo."
"Hey, toots," said a smug voice from behind him. Ishida sat bolt upright, spinning around in his wheely chair, alarmed.
There stood Ichigo, in all of his Soul Reaper glory. Black robes, massive sword… not to mention his Zanpakuto. He was grinning, and Ishida's window was wide open.
"If you go out with me," he went on, wicked smirk playing on his lips, "I'll treat you how I treat my pocky: I'll spend a lot of money on you, take you home, finish you off within five minutes, call you delicious, and then lay in bed, crying myself to sleep."
His tone was arrogant, as was his smile, but his eyes showed an uneasiness as Ishida stared at him incredulously. He'd gone all-out; this was all he had. And he was praying to any deity available that it would work.
Ishida sighed. He didn't know how much of his mutterings Ichigo had heard, but it didn't matter: he knew how he had to respond.
He pushed himself up form his chair, walking over to the taller teenager.
"Pocky, huh?" he said, wrapping his arms around his neck as Ichigo's hands found his waist and pulled him close.
"You know, Strawberry always was my favorite flavor."
And with that, he caught those Strawberry lips in a delicious kiss.