Baked (Scars)
A/N: So, this story began from a conversation between a friend and me. I was planning on writing another UraIchi that just so happened to be a complete angst fest, and she prohibited me. Instead, she prompted me to write a "domestic fluffy AU" with "baker!Kisuke and costumer!Ichigo" and I added my own two cents and made it a soulmate au, because I've never written one before. So... somehow I read "fluffy domestic story" as "mutual pining with pre-slash at most". Sorry not sorry, Lyv.
So, this is a slightly slow-burn story with mutual pining and Ichigo struggling through Fate because he hates the idea of soulmates being predestined to be together. Yep. Also, a bakery AU, of course.
For warnings, this one is pretty tame, and we only have improper language and slash relationships, yay. (Both male and female, btw. On the female part, we have Soi-Fon/Yoruichi, though it is only just mentioned)
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters do not belong to me. I write only for fun, thanks.
(Also, I don't think I've ever explained it properly in the story...
So, the soulmate thingy added here is a "every mark in my body will appear in my soulmate's body, be it a scar or ink". People have developed a make-up that does not bleed through, but that's it. Tattoos still do, pen ink still do, body paint still does... yeah.
Ah, also, the one receiving the bleeding through doesn't feel the pain from the scars. They just feel a slight itch when it appears)
Chapter 1
Kisuke hummed cheerfully in time with the song sounding quietly in the blissful silence, kneading the dough under his hands. There was half an hour yet for the bakery to open, and the shop was just as he enjoyed it; quiet, empty, and with the strong scent of sugar and cinnamon permeating the air. The only way to make it better would be if Tessai-san were sitting in the corner, doing his crosswords.
Kisuke smiled quietly, shaking his head at the thought. His friend deserved the holidays; really, it was just a shame he'd managed to fall two days into it. Still… Kisuke would appreciate his company, help not-withstanding.
His phone started beeping, and he turned, patting the counter in search of it, watching with detached amusement as fingerprints of flour were left over the marble. The sound was gritting on his nerves, though, and he just couldn't find it.
He turned his head, frowning down, and finding a right mess of pans and pots splayed all over the flat surface, and a distinct lack of mobile phone anywhere. Well, then.
He turned completely, abandoning his cookie dough to grow, and tried to listen for the beeping. "Where is that?" He grumbled, patting his hands more or less clean on his apron as he walked slowly around the kitchen. If he focused enough, the sound seemed almost…
"Ah." He stopped, looking out through the glass door that connected kitchen to shop, and blinked slowly as he found it laying harmlessly on the cashier counter, blaring away and managing to be louder than his song, despite the fact it was on a whole different room. "How did you even get there?"
Pushing the door open with a shoulder, he finished cleaning his hands before reaching for the mobile. On the screen was displayed a disproportionate picture of a fat cat, staring him down, and he grinned.
"Yoruichi-san! Why, how's England treating you?" He leaned over the counter, glancing back reflexively even though he knew the kitchen was empty and there was no stove left burning. "Last I heard, you were attempting to start an international situation. Dare I ask if you were successful?"
A familiar laughter came cheerfully from the speaker, and Kisuke's heart wrenched in painful longing at the sound of it. "Hello, Kisuke-chan. I'm fine, thanks, though I am not in England anymore. Right now, I'm doing a gig in France — a small thing, this time, don't worry, I don't think I'll manage to be banished from yet another company, as you'd say."
He was snorting before he could help himself, belatedly slapping a hand over his mouth to smother the sound. "If you say so, Yoruichi-san." He tried for airy non-concomitance. From Yoruichi-san's answering huff, he'd bet he fell far from it. "So. Has something happened?"
"Why? Can't I just call because I miss you, Kisuke-chan?" Yoruichi-san's voice lilted teasingly, and he could imagine the grin on her face perfectly. "It's been such a long time! I'm not used to not seeing you for so long, dear."
He hummed, arching an eyebrow silently even if he knew she couldn't see it.
"Okay, okay. So, guess what?" She continued excitedly, not a minute later, and he smiled, resting his chin on his free fist. When she made an impatient sound, he offered her an encouraging hum, so she'd know he was still there and hadn't run off at the mention of yet another 'news'. "I met my soulmate!"
"Wait, what?" He blurted out, flinching back and slipping from his fist. He managed to scramble for a hold just in time to prevent his chin from having a painful encounter with the counter. Ow. In exchange, though, his elbow tingled in agony from the way he'd hit it on the wall at his back. "Congratulations!" He added, sticking his phone between shoulder and cheek so he could massage at his aching nerves.
"Thanks," Yoruichi-san answered much more warmly, voice for once falling from the teasing tone and brimming with care instead. "She's a model, just like me, so it was quite the meeting, too. Apparently, I was an inspiration for her. It was just so cute. Also, since we automatically share any ink, and there tends to be much inking related with modeling, our agencies got in touch last night so we can work something out, maybe."
Again, his heart clenched painfully in his chest — and he refused to think about the reasons why, except. "So, are you moving in with her? Is she a cute French woman, then?"
"Silly," Yoruichi-san chided. "Even if we were moving together — which I'm not saying we are; nor am I saying we aren't, actually… — I'd never abandon you." He laughed, feeling raw and see-through, a hand creeping up to hide his eyes even if there was no one here to watch it. "You're my best friend, aren't you? And I need to see your bakery up and running. What did you name it, again? Something ridiculous, I remember…"
"Urahara Shoten," he provided with a grin.
"Of course. Urahara Shoten." She laughed again. "Only you would be so damn pragmatic about naming your keepsake."
He laughed silently, breathing easier once again. He grabbed the phone in his hands again, and looked up to watch the streets even as he heard Yoruichi-san prattle on in the background, telling him more of her soulmate (who was not a French woman, apparently, but a Chinese one), and about her latest stunt (and she hadn't lied. It did not end with her banned from her latest modeling company, it turns out. But mostly because of her soulmate. Kisuke supposed he could forgive her, after all).
When he heard Yoruichi-san yawning, though, he realized it must be nearing 11 pm for her, and as much as Yoruichi-san liked to pretend she was always alert, he knew first-handedly how much sleep she actually needed, so he cut her short before she could fall into yet another tangent.
And, anyway, it wasn't even a lie. "Yoruichi-san, I need to finish up preparations. I'm already quite late with opening the bakery."
Yoruichi-san's response was slower, her voice heavier as it came through. "Of course. Sorry, Kisuke-chan. I'll call you again later this week, okay?"
He hummed an agreement, shouldering the kitchen door open once again, making a beeline for the resting dough. "Of course, Yoruichi-san. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Goodbye, dear."
The line went silent as Yoruichi-san cut their call short, and Kisuke smiled, putting the phone down in one of the counters even as he started splaying the dough to be cut. "Goodbye, Yoruichi-san," he murmured to the empty room, a song melody engulfing his words before anyone could dare hope to hear them.
.
By midday, Kisuke already missed the peace of early morning dearly.
"Welcome to Urahara Shoten," He smiled, cheeks hurting from forcing it out again and again and again. "What can I do for you today?"
The man before him hummed distractedly, and Kisuke withheld a sigh. This was going to be yet another customer who didn't know what he wanted and would hold the line forever. Again.
As he waited, he glanced around, and took a peek at his display; the Cheese Tart was dwindling faster than he'd expected, but then, he hadn't had the chance to make his Pizza Bread Roll, today, so people tended to choose the second favorite savory pastry instead, at this time of the day. The Creamy Citrus Tart also seemed to be at its end… and, ah, the Pecan Cookies.
He looked up again. The man was still mumbling to himself, and the people in line behind him were shuffling annoyed, and this was the best opportunity he'd get for a long time, it seemed.
"Excuse me." He bowed slightly. "Please, think about what you want. I will be back with you in a moment."
While others seemed to startle slightly, the man before him only waved a hand dismissively. Kisuke withheld another sigh, fingers twitching to do something — something he'd regret, most likely. So, he turned around, and pushed the door to the kitchen open and stepped inside with as much dignity as he could while his nerves kept telling him he was just running, the coward.
Once he was inside, and hidden from view beside one of his many counters, he finally groaned, thumping his head by the wall.
"Fucking hell," He massaged at his temple. "I don't understand how Tessai-san can make this sound so easy."
He took the moment of solitude to relax a little, shoulders falling and a heavy exhale leaving his lips. He loved his bakery with all his heart, but he hated juggling two things at the same time. He'd never hired anyone, since he was more than enough to care for the whole kitchen, and Tessai-san was more than enough to care for the shop itself, but maybe…
Well. Maybe it was time to start searching, after all. Not only had Tessai-san been long due his vacations; if he hired someone else to help at the shop, Tessai-san would even be able to take a day off every week, which might make him less grumpy, come the end of the day. And maybe Kisuke could…
Well, it didn't matter right now, either way. Right now, he had more or less a minute or two to grab replacements for the pastries that were finishing, and maybe put out something else to spice up the options. He was sure there were some Cinnamon Buns resting in the oven somewhere…
He made himself busy, piling up a serving tray with more Cheese Tarts, Creamy Citrus Tarts and Pecan Cookies. He also added the Cinnamon Buns and a batch of Cannoli. He took a deep breath, breathing in the mix of scents that that felt familiar and warm and so much safe, and left the tray over the counter closer to the door.
"Right. Right." He turned around, staring at the mess that stared back at him, lips pulling up in a grin. Most of the used pans were piled up in the sink, but some stray ones still fell over each other over the counters, and Tessai-san would be chiding his ears off if he could see it. Kisuke laughed brightly at the image that brought him, but tried to focus on his search. He knew there were some pies waiting to be baked somewhere around…
"Ah-ha!" He exclaimed, bouncing closer to the main oven of the kitchen. A beautiful strawberry pie waited to the side, and he patted it with a smile and a fond warmth in his chest. He'd always had a thing for pies; they were his favorites to bake, really.
The oven was still warm as he opened it up to put the pie inside, but not too warm, so Kisuke guessed it would take longer than he was used to. Maybe it'd wait until after the rush?
He hummed, echoing the melody sounding over in the shop unconsciously, before nodding. It'd have to do.
He closed the oven with finality, trudging back to his tray and the glass door. Now, if only the man could have made up his mind while he was gone…
Unfortunately, that seemed to be too much to ask.
The red-haired man sighed heavily as Kisuke leant down to put the pastries in their places, and Kisuke tried not to roll his eyes. You are tired. Think about every single person waiting for you to make up your damn mind! If you don't know what to ask for, then step aside. Come on, it's not that hard. You look into the glass, see something tasty, and point it out. Simple like that!
"Can I take your order now, sir?" He asked politely, forcing another smile on his face, even as his eyebrows twitched and he tried not to grit his teeth.
At last, the man stared at him, blinking slowly as if surprised. "Oh. Hello. Sorry, good afternoon. I just… Can I make a request? To pick up later?"
"Of course, sir. But, if you are unsure of what to ask for, then here is a menu, and my policies about requests. If you just fill the survey attached… The prices and minimum time for each request are also printed out in there." He pushed one of the pre-prepared 'Request Kits' (as he'd taken to calling them) to the man. "Now, is that all, or will you be requiring something for now, as well?"
The man took the papers with a bemused expression, and Kisuke waited (im)patiently for him to answer. "Oh. No, thank you. I'll also take a slice of your Coffee Pie."
More than ready to be done with the man, Kisuke nodded sharply, and cut the requested pie. "Will you be taking it as you fill the survey?"
Distractedly, already reading the papers, the man nodded. "Yes, please."
Kisuke piled the slice onto a plate, and pushed it onto the red-haired man's hands. "Now, if you could move to a table. Just stop by again, when you are ready to make your payment."
And turned away from him, trusting the man to at least stop making a bother of himself.
The next woman hurried along with a longsuffering face, sighing openly as she pushed the man aside. "Three Pecan Cookies, please. To go."
As he nodded, and went to get her request, he heard her ask, "Is Tsukabishi-san okay?"
Tsuka… Ah. "Tessai-san is fine," He replied with a grin, giving her the paper bag with her cookies. "He is simply taking a much deserved holiday."
She nodded, satisfied. "I see. Well then. Thank you." She gave him a couple of coins and loose exchange. "Have a nice day." And bustled away before he could even count the money she'd given him.
He certainly couldn't understand regulars.
He shook his head lightly, but grinned broadly for the next person who stepped up to the counter, back to his shopkeeper persona — cheerful, annoying, and just a tad bit too airy to be real. People didn't like it too much, not as they liked Tessai-san, but he preferred it this way, anyway.
Especially when faced with people like this one.
He sighed, giving up on keeping his pretenses. "Are you done, sir? I need to step inside to take care of some pastries, and you are the last customer here."
The red-haired man looked up with a blush on his face, stammering embarrassedly before gulping audibly to answer. "Yes, sorry, here, I—I mean, here, thank you. I am sorry for keeping you waiting."
He gritted his teeth, but smiled as best he could, anyway. "Of course. So, have you make your decision?"
The man nodded. "A Custard Lemon Pie and a batch of Cinnamon Rolls. It is possible to make both for today still, right? The both of them only requested 5 hours advance, but I am not sure, since it was only in the case of one or the other, so…"
Kisuke took the offered papers, reading the survey quickly. As Red-Hair had said, it was a Custard Lemon Pie and a batch of Cinnamon Rolls — a pie for ten people, and a batch of at least 12 rolls. He hummed quietly, thinking about the ingredients stored in his kitchen.
It was… possible. Risky, but possible. "For 7 pm, is it? There might be some delay, but, yes, it is possible."
Red-Hair grinned broadly, tattoo on his face pulling in a way that was surprisingly charming. You know, for a man who was an incredible annoyance.
"Thanks! So, it's likely I won't be the one to come for it, though, so, how does that work? The rules say it is possible, but I'm not sure if I just need to give Ichigo a permission slip or what?"
Kisuke shrugged; that part of the rules had been added by Tessai-san, for him… "You just give me the whole name of whoever will come get it. And yours. As long as the information clicks, it should be okay. But I'll need you to pay for at least half of it upfront, I hope you have read it?"
Red-Hair nodded, pulling a backpack from his back and opening it up with another dismissive wave. "Sure. Here, this should do, right?" He gave him a couple bills, and Kisuke counted them, before nodding. Just right, too, adding the slice of pie he'd bought earlier. "Okay, so. Name's Abarai Renji. My friend, Kurosaki Ichigo, likely will be the one to pass through here and get the sweets. If there's any trouble, just tell him to call me."
"Of course." Kisuke offered him another bland smile. "Now, if that is all, I will have to ask you to see yourself out. I do need to see to your requests, and there is a pie in need of rescue."
Abarai blushed and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Again, thanks. You're a life saver!"
As the man hurried out, Kisuke heaved out a tired sigh. Now, what to do with a request and no help…
He looked at his dwindling stock and grinned. As long as Tessai-san never heard of it…
.
Flour has the strangest ability to get stuck everywhere, he thought, dusting off his hands as he took in his kitchen. It looked like… well, like a flour bomb had exploded here. It was mostly amusing, but also very daunting — he didn't have any help for anything in the bakery. This meant he was also the one responsible of cleaning his own kitchen up. Damn.
Since the timer on the oven still had a way to go, and what he could leave prepared for tomorrow was already stocked in the heated drawers, he decided this was as good a time to start cleaning as any other.
The flour would give him too much trouble, though, so he marched on to the piling sink instead. Waiting for the timer to go off at any moment, he also lowered the volume of the music playing through his speaker before reaching for the sponge and the first pan.
He was singing along with the lyrics when there was a knocking sound coming from the shop; he squeezed the sponge between his fingers too hard, in response, sending soap flying into his face. Unfortunately, he also managed to drop the last glass in the sink as his eyes started burning something fierce, and he was left to whine, scrubbing his eyes against his shirt sleeve, a half yell dying on his lips before it could even leave them. Right. Tessai-san was on his vacation.
"Coming!" he called, staring at the broken shards of glass that now littered the interior of the sink. Fuck.
He ran the faucet quickly, washing away the soap left in his skin before deeming his efforts good enough. Of course, the main thing was the pie that wasn't quite ready yet, so, anything he did would still fall lacking, he supposed.
He opened the door to the shop with one eye kept on the timer — there should be enough time to let the person inside, at the very least…
He turned around again, and saw yet another red haired man waiting. Well, Kisuke supposes that's rude of him; Abarai certainly had red hair. This man's hair, however, looked much more like a… well, like a carrot.
Heh.
He might be spending too much time with Yoruichi-san, really, because he had to raise a hand to hide a smirk at the sight.
"Hello," he greeted still from behind his hands. "Am I correct in supposing you are here for the ordered pie and cookies?"
The man nodded, frowning slightly at him. "Yes. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, here for Abarai Renji's commission."
Ichigo. Kisuke had almost forgotten it; why, wasn't his hair color just slightly off? Abarai's color seemed much more fitting to his name…
He curled his hands around his cheeks, making sure not a glimpse of his smirk was visible as he nodded and waved to Kurosaki-san. "If you could wait here, I will be right back. The pie should be finished in just a moment."
The frown on Kurosaki-san's face did not smooth out, but he nodded shortly — and kept staring at him. Kisuke blinked slowly, staring back at him, before shrugging and walking back into the kitchen.
Just in time to hear the timer blaring at him. Fuck.
He opened the oven door hurriedly, turning it off with his free hand. It was still fine, thankfully; Custard Lemon Pies were terribly temperamental, he'd learned throughout the years, but his still sat perfectly fine, if a little bit golden at the borders.
He breathed out, shoulders slumping down and lips curling up in a smile as he reached for his oven mitten to get the pie out.
He was putting it down slowly, an eye on the cream on top and another on the empty space he'd aimed to leave it, when a voice interrupted him, making him jerk and set the tray down too far back and almost sending it down to the ground. Damn, damn, damn.
He scrambled to hold it, unfortunately using his unprotected hand to do so, and hissed sharply in pain even as he righted it in place.
"Sorry!" Kurosaki-san bustled around, eyes wide and hands twitching.
Kisuke gritted his teeth, pushing past him to the faucet to cool it down.
"Sorry." Kurosaki-san repeated. At least he sounded genuine, Kisuke thought with a sigh. "Are there any blisters in the area? I can wrap it up for you, if you need me to. I'm good with first aid."
Kisuke stared at the reddened skin — well, it was red, and hot, and maybe kind of swelling, but. "No, there doesn't look to be any blisters."
Kisuke heard Kurosaki-san sigh — and he might not know the guy for too long, but he sounded relieved. "Okay. Well, do you have a first aid kit around here somewhere? I might have some bandages inside my bag, but I think you'd prefer if you knew where they came from…"
Kisuke looked up, seeing worried brown eyes, and a small frown staring him down, and pointed silently to the cabinet by the door to the shop, where he kept everything Tessai-san deemed a "necessity". Including, as it turned out, a first aid kit.
A few moments of shuffling and mumblings later, Kurosaki-san was back, holding the white box in his hands. "You can probably turn that off, now. How does your hand feel? Still hot? Does it hurt? Is it swelling?"
Cautiously moving his fingers, Kisuke examined every inch of the affected skin, but it seemed okay enough. Still warm, perhaps, but not hot, and it less hurt than ached uncomfortably, now.
"I think it's okay." He offered, watching as Kurosaki-san took his hand between his own. "It feels uncomfortable, but it is not my first burn, anyway."
Kurosaki-san mumbled something that Kisuke did not quite get, in response, but…
But Kisuke must have misheard him. Because that had sounded a lot like an 'I know'.
"What?" He asked, looking up from the counter, to see startled brown eyes staring right back at him.
"What what?" Kurosaki-san asked back, prodding at his burn cautiously.
Kisuke considered; was it worth it, to question it?
Well, as Tessai-san would be the first to say, he was always good at taking impossible chances. "What did you say, Kurosaki-san?"
"Oh. That." Kurosaki-san offered him a shrug. "I said, 'I suppose'. My sister loves cooking, so she's always with a burn or a cut. I just, well, I suppose that's common for anyone who works on a kitchen."
Kisuke held his breath for a moment or two — but, Kurosaki-san just grinned wryly, and finished bandaging up his burn with firm hands.
"There, good as new. Take more care, you also seem to be sporting quite a bit of cuts on your fingers. It wouldn't do for you to get an infection for lack of proper treatment."
Free, Kisuke took his hands back, staring at the bandages — professional work. He clearly had a lot of experience in providing simple first aid to people.
He quirked his lips into a grin, offering Kurosaki-san a nod. "Thank you for the help. Now, I do think you were supposed to get a Lemon Custard Pie and a batch of Cinnamon Buns?"
As the man nodded and followed him, Kisuke couldn't stop dwelling on those startled brown eyes. Kurosaki Ichigo…
Well. Kisuke hoped they could meet again, at least.