Crush with Eyeliner, a bleach fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Note: After that last depressing fic. I wrote, I thought I'd try for something a little more fun and light-hearted...

Title: From a song (as usual) by the band R.E.M. I use those lyrics, as well as those from the Chemical Brothers' song "Setting Sun."

Rated: M for language and smex.

Crush with Eyeliner

An aural skein of thunderous sound threaded its way throughout the club, trembling the floorboards with a low, heavy bass line. Lights flitted and dipped across the packed dance floor, weaving ribbons of silky light in bright peacock colors of liquid blue and hot molten pink. Color and sound assaulted the senses, pulling any and all observers down an enchanted rabbit hole of music and light. It was like a hall of Bacchanalian amusement. A never-ending party of music, drink and revelry. A continuous dance of lust and desire. A palace of flesh, both notoriously well-known and at the same time, ostensibly discreet. It was a place called Rome and was (to those in the know) Karakura town's hottest gay club.

Standing off in a shadowy corner away from the ever-shifting throng stood Ichigo Kurosaki. The fact that this was his first time setting foot in the place was as plain as the look of unchecked awe on his face. Next to him, the small, dark-haired Mizuiro stood, thumb-typing rapidly on his phone. Without looking up, the shorter boy said, "Well, what do you think, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo opened his mouth and almost said that he regretted having Mizuiro bring him to such a place. But what came out instead was: "It's, um, really...loud."

Mizuiro snorted and snapped his phone shut. "Geez Kurosaki, you'd think you'd never been inside a club before."

"That's not true," Ichigo answered defensively. But what he did not say to Mizuiro was that he'd never been inside a gay club before. This was his first time, and as such, he was unaccountably nervous. His ability to speak, to assemble words into coherent sentences, had been short-circuited, swallowed up by the hard, primal beat of the overpowering house music.

And by the gorgeous vision of all the half-naked male bodies on display...

"C'mon, let's go get something to drink," said Mizuiro, who had resumed typing on his phone. He wandered away, and Ichigo was forced to follow him, his head swerving from left to right like a weather vane caught in a high, blustering wind. There were boys dressed as angels, boys dressed as devils, boys dressed as sailors, boys dressed in tight leather. Everywhere, all around, were beautiful, gorgeous boys of all shapes and sizes, and Ichigo felt his face growing as hot as a dance floor laser beam as he found his thoughts carelessly tripping and falling straight into the proverbial gutter. And oh, what a beautiful gutter it was...

"Uh, Mizuiro-" said Ichigo, as he watched the other boy head straight to the bar. Surely there was no way in hell they were going to let someone as young-looking as he get away with ordering alcohol. But Ichigo watched as Mizuiro exchanged pleasantries with the bartender as if they were old acquaintances. Without hesitation or even a flash of ID, a drink was promptly plunked down in front of the shorter boy. Ichigo was impressed. Then Mizuiro turned to Ichigo and asked, "Do you want anything?"

"Rum and Coke?"

"Done."

Mizuiro called the bartender back over, and after a discreet exchange of bills, a second drink was plunked down between Ichigo's nervously flexing fingers. It was so hard not to stare. Not when so much gorgeous flesh was on display. Ichigo took a tentative swallow of his drink. In his blue and yellow ringer tee and dark jeans, he was dressed to go unnoticed. He couldn't imagine wearing some of the flashy outfits on display. Pink pleather, fishnet tops, and nearly non-existent thongs. All in bright, shiny retina-popping colors. To his right was some sort of over-the-hill leather daddy in full motorcycle regalia. And to his left was some young guy in the loudest orange vinyl pants he'd ever seen. Ichigo openly stared at the tangerine atrocity with something like morbid fascination. Why, he even had bright orange feathers dipping and weaving like a crane's neck along the side of his black, bobbed hair...

Realization suddenly dawned on him like a rising sun. A bright, orange vinyl sun. "Yu- Yumichika?" Ichigo sputtered at the back of the young man's sleek head.

The young man's head swiveled, and Ichigo found himself confronted with a pair of familiar heavy-lidded violet eyes. "Kurosaki? Is that really you?"

"Yo! Kurosaki!" Ichigo was suddenly pitched forward against the bar as his back was slapped violently in greeting. After nearly choking on his drink, Ichigo turned to find himself confronted with yet another familiar face from the Seireitei's 11th squad. "Ikkaku?"

"Hey! Kurosaki! I thought it was you! But, you know, I was kinda surprised to see you here..."

"I wasn't," Yumichika muttered almost inaudibly beneath the persistent, throbbing bass beat. There was the delicate lift of a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Hey, you know best, babe," Ichigo watched disbelievingly as the 11th squad's brazenly bald and tougher-than-nails 3rd seat went to wrap his arms affectionately around the boy with the bobbed hair. Yumichika leaned back into his embrace, grinning like a lazy, contented Cheshire cat.

Ichigo was stunned. The 11th squad was supposedly the toughest, meanest, and most blood-thirsty of the all the 13 Court squads. It was totally bizarre, seeing some of its best fighters inside a gay club, of all places. It felt like a hallucination. Ichigo lowered his voice and asked quietly, "Um, does Kenpachi know you guys come here?"

"What? Captain Zaraki?" boomed Ikkaku. "Oh, he's around here somewhere-"

"-you mean Kenpachi's actually here?"

"Yes," purred Yumichika, swaying lazily in the seat of his lover's arms. "Some of these twinks around here just loooove a big bear like him."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

Ichigo watched Yumichika and Ikkaku exchange looks. Yumichika opened his mouth to explain, but the words became nothing but static in Ichigo's ears as he found himself staring off at the packed dance floor. Particularly, at one single, lithe body dressed all in black, the dark dancer's image melting and reforming between the rolling waves of writhing, half-naked bodies. He was there one minute, gone the next. Shifting, swaying, like some kind of lovely desert mirage. Just a faint suggestion of inky black hair, and the cool, diamond-hard glint of black leather. And-Ichigo latched onto this detail instantly-the nicest, tightest ass he had ever seen.

"See something you like, Kurosaki?" Ikkaku's teasing voice snapped him out of his decidedly slack-jawed trance. Ichigo's face started going as red as the strawberry daiquiri cradled in Yumichika's fingers, and he instantly sputtered his denial: "Huh? What? N-no. I wasn't-"

"Hey, what's the big deal? You came here to meet other guys, right?" said Ikkaku, the teasing note still lacing his words.

"Um, but-"

"Why don't you go ask him to dance?" Yumichika suggested rationally.

"Well, I don't-"

"-what? Dance well? Hey, neither does Ikkaku, but that doesn't stop him from doing that silly "lucky" dance of his-"

"-hey! I'm hurt! My lucky dance is awesome!"

"No worries, babe. You can't be expected to be an awesome fighter and an awesome dancer, too." A small pause. "Unless you're me of course..."

"It's okay guys, really. I don't need any help," said Ichigo.

"Oh, I disagree," said Ikkaku. "I think you need all the help you can get."

"He's leaving." Yumichika interrupted.

"Who is?" asked Ichigo and Ikkaku together.

Yumichika rolled his eyes in annoyance and jerked his head toward the dance floor. "Ichigo's object d'aime..."

"My what?"

Yumichika gritted his teeth. "That kid with the tight ass you were drooling over, idiot. He's leaving..." Ichigo's head swerved in time to see a flash of ebony departing the dance floor.

"Look, he's headed for the deck," said Yumichika. "Go talk to him."

"Huh? I can't-"

"GO!" both Yumichika and Ikkaku practically yelled, shoving the inexperienced teenager toward the door leading outside to the club's patio.

And with the 11th squad shouting orders at him, it was hard for Ichigo to not obey...

Ichigo was slowly making his way around the raised dais of the dance floor, the flashing lights falling on his orange hair and setting it ablaze. He'd lost track of Mizuiro ages ago, but as he crept along next to the receding tide of moving bodies, he thought he caught a glimpse of the smaller boy standing off in a corner, deep in conversation with another short kid with fluorescent hair. Who knew that Mizuiro was such an operator? It made Ichigo feel like a real prat. A bright, white object came flying at his head, and Ichigo, ever battle ready, ducked just in time to avoid having his eye taken out by the deadly tip of an angel's wing as one of the go-go dancers from the platforms came flashing by him. The boy was wearing nothing but the wings, a pair of white briefs that left nothing to the imagination, and some sneakers. Ichigo stared after him. Then an ear-splittingly familiar shriek of feminine laughter caught his attention, and Ichigo looked back at the dance floor.

Through the opening/closing curtain of dancers, Ichigo spotted the source of the drunken laughter: Matsumoto, a sparkly vision in a low-cut, disco ball of an outfit, was wedged in between Kira and Hisagi, from the 3rd and 9th divisions, respectively. They were all sandwiched together, dancing crazily, their ecstatic, drunken laughter piercing through the intense wall of sound that surrounded them. Ichigo's eyes goggled out of his head, and he turned away, muttering: "I did NOT just see that...no freakin' way."

Ichigo was just a few precious steps away from the patio door when he accidentally plowed into some kid with spiky hair. "Watch where you're going," the boy snapped. Ichigo immediately stammered out an "I'm sorry." And then he saw who it was.

"Toshiro?"

"That's Captain Hitsugaya to you, Kurosaki."

"What? Huh? You're actually gonna make me call you 'captain' in the middle of a gay club?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop being so willfully obtuse," said the Seireitei's resident prodigy. "It's a joke, Kurosaki. Relax." Despite his saying it was a joke, Toshiro's face looked as pinched and serious as ever.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? I'm here to enjoy myself and meet people." said Toshiro. "What do you think happens in a club?"

"No. It's just...it's just that I swear I've seen half the Seireitei in here tonight. Hell, next I'll probably see Byakuya swanning by with his noble hair clips and cherry blossoms..."

"Don't be dense," said Toshiro in a flat tone. "Captain Kuchiki would never deign to mingle in such a public place with a bunch of commoners."

"Uh...was that supposed to be another joke?"

"Yes." A small pause, then: "No, the reason you're probably seeing so many people from the Seireitei is because the one gay club in the city got destroyed in the last Bount invasion, and no one's bothered to rebuild it yet."

"Oh."

"So what are you doing here?" asked Toshiro with a curious glint in his eye.

Ichigo immediately thought of the beauty in black he had been pursuing. "Uh, same as you. Just here to...mingle." Ichigo began shifting nervously from one Chuck Taylored foot to the other. "So um, how are you making out?"

"Oh...I just got a number from some really nice guy at the bar," Toshiro held out a cocktail napkin. Muzuiro's name and phone number were written on it. Ichigo lifted an eyebrow and said, "That was you over in the corner?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Ichigo just shook his head and started backing toward the metal patio door. "Nothing. I gotta go. See ya..."

"Okay."

Ichigo hit the metal lever on the door with both hands. A cool breeze immediately assaulted him, the night air caressing his face with icy fingertips. The loud, electronic music from inside became nothing but a distant warble as he allowed the door to swing slowly shut behind him:

You're the devil in me

That I brought in from the cold

You said your body was young

But your mind was very old

You're coming on strong

And I like the way

The visions we had

Have faded away

You're part of a life

I've never had

And I tell you

That was just too bad...

Out of the dark, a hand suddenly grabbed him by the back of the neck and swung him around to plant his face against the scratchy brick wall. The attack was unexpected, and Ichigo was caught completely off guard. "What the hell?" he sputtered into the mortar as a strong set of fingers gripped his throat. Ichigo shifted his gaze, but could see nothing of his attacker, only the moon-lit glint of a swaying silver cross dangling from an unseen wrist.

"Shit," said a well-known voice from behind him. The hand on his neck suddenly vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "Sorry, uh, I thought you were someone else."

Ichigo swallowed hard against the bricks. Oh my god; I know that voice! he thought to himself. I hear it everyday in class-always with the right answers to the questions, the goddam nerdy, stuck-up know-it-all...

Ichigo turned very slowly to find himself face to face with Ishida. A slight gasp escaped his lips and his mouth involuntarily fell open. It was Ishida, but not the Ishida he knew, the Ishida he saw at school everyday. Not the 'top-of-the-class' Ishida with the nerdy glasses and pale, unassuming school uniform. No, this Ishida had forgone the clear-rimmed glasses and pure, all-white wardrobe in favor of black leather pants and a tight, fitted shirt that was the color of a nocturne. And his eyes...his eyes were a vivid stormy blue outlined in thick, smoky eyeliner. Eyeliner! No nerd glasses in sight. God, who knew that Ishida's eyes were such an intense shade of blue?

"Kurosaki?"

"Ishida?"

It took Ichigo a few moments to realize that Ishida was, in fact, the hot-looking dancer he'd been following inside the club. The epiphany left him speechless. He stood, motionless, his mouth hanging open like a shop window dummy.

"Sorry, Kurosaki. I felt a strong spiritual pressure headed this way, and I mistook you for someone else." Ishida lifted a shiny, leather-gloved hand to swipe his long bangs behind his ear. Ichigo followed the gesture with his eyes, still mesmerized by Ishida's appearance. He suddenly had a vision of himself pinning Ishida to the wall, his mouth nibbling frantically on the other boy's now exposed earlobe.

A hand was being waved in front of his face. "Hello? Anyone in there?" asked Ishida, his disapproving squint still utterly familiar despite the lack of glasses. "Zoning out as usual, Kurosaki. No wonder I got the drop on you."

"I-um. It's, uh, you look really different. Your clothes-"

Ishida's face brightened as he casually draped himself across the deck's flaking metal railing. "You like? I made this outfit myself, you know. I make all kinds of fetish and club gear in my spare time..."

Oh, yes, I definitely like. "It's um, really different from all that white Quincy stuff I've seen you in-"

Ishida's eyes narrowed. "White Quincy stuff? You're talking about traditional Quincy battle regalia, Kurosaki. What, you think I'd wear that sort of thing out? Why, that'd be completely inappropriate." Long, silky bangs fell over his eyes, and Ishida took another swipe at them.

Completely inappropriate...Those were the only two words that managed to pierce Ichigo's psyche as his eyes glanced surreptitiously over at Ishida's tightly clad form. Probably because those words were the only ones that applied to his current lecherous train of thought...

And that particular train was brought to a screeching halt as the patio door banged open and a booming voice called out: "Hey, Quincy, where'd you sneak off to?" Music blared like ambulance sirens through the open door and momentarily filled the night with a raucous, electronic bleating.

You're coming on strong

You're showing your color

Like a setting sun...

Ichigo was surprised to hear the phrase, "Oh, for fuck's sake-why doesn't he just give up already?" slide from Ishida's lips. Then the black-clad Quincy turned to him and said, "Kurosaki, do you mind doing me a favor?"

Ichigo just blinked. You're a pompous prick, but right now I would crawl across the deck and lick your boots if you asked me. "Sure, Ishida. What-"

The words were cut off as Ishida suddenly grabbed the back of his head and crushed their lips together. Oh. My. God. Ichigo's thoughts dribbled away into word soup as all the blood in his brain fled his head and shot directly south. Without conscious thought, Ichigo reached up and grabbed both sides of Ishida's head with his hands and forcefully shoved his tongue inside the Quincy's mouth. There was a throaty 'mmfph' of protest, but then Ishida relaxed willingly into the invasion, which only encouraged Ichigo to pull the other boy even closer, his hands straying downward to grab hold of a piece of that perfectly round ass-

There was a rush of cold air, and Ichigo staggered against the railing. His thoughts were still a garbled mess when a large, meaty hand suddenly clamped down his shoulder and a chillingly familiar voice rang out: "Hey, Ichigo. That's not nice, cock-blocking a fellow like that."

Ichigo froze. Ishida was nowhere in sight. He had taken the opportunity to flash-step or use whatever Quincified version of it he insisted on using to hightail it out of there. And now Ichigo was left all alone. With Kenpachi. Ichigo slowly turned to face the huge, intimidating captain of the 11th squad. "Uh, Kenpachi?" Ichigo asked in a tremulous voice. He suddenly realized he had been played, with a giant capital P.

Kenpachi was leaning casually against the metal door, effectively blocking his escape. And looking over the railing, Ichigo saw it was a long drop from the deck. Which would be perfectly fine if he was in Shinigami form, but he wasn't. Ichigo felt a cold sweat began to creep its icy claws down the back of his neck.

"That was one hot little Quincy, eh Ichigo?" Kenpachi said conversationally, as if they were the best of friends. "I've been trying to talk to him all night, but the prissy little fucker just won't give. You know, doing a Quincy is high up on my bucket list. No kidding. Right up there with Asian twins and an amputee..."

Ichigo just swallowed and looked shocked.

"But you-you just swooped in and took possession of my prey..."

Prey?

"...which isn't too cool of you. So, what do you say we settle this with a fight to the death?"

"WHAT?" Ichigo practically squeaked. "Kenpachi, I don't think-"

"No really, you owe me a rematch after that last battle anyway-"

WHAM!

Kenpachi's sentence was sliced off as the metal door banged open and crashed into the back of his head. One minute, the captain of the 11th squad was standing there, challenging Ichigo to a fight to the death. The next, he was lying across the floor, out cold, and there was the welcome, butterfly-like flutter of a rice paper fan and the click-clack of wooden sandals across the deck.

"Ahhhh! Kurosaki! I heard you were out here, so I thought I'd come by and say hello," said Urahara, a decidedly drunken grin plastering his face. He glanced nonchalantly down at Kenpachi's still form. The fan gestured toward the deck. "And what do we have here? Hmm, it looks like Captain Zaraki may have overindulged a little this evening, no?"

"Well, actually that's not-"

"No worries! I have the perfect hangover remedy right here!" Urahara said, and he reached into the pocket of his green robes and brought out a small, innocuous-looking vial of amber-colored liquid. "It's wonderful. Captain Zaraki will wake up and have absolutely no memory of the last twenty-four hours. None. A very pleasing solution, no?"

Ichigo wasn't the brightest crayon in the Crayola box, and it took him a minute to catch the gist of Urahara's words. "Oh, yey. Totally. That's a really good idea."

"I thought you might say that," said Urahara, kneeling down to dump the contents of the bottle into Kenpachi's slackened mouth. "And this time, Kurosaki, it's on the house."

"You're the best, sensei."

"Of course. I'm a very sensible man. And a good citizen." The fan fluttered playfully across Urahara's face, hiding his wry smile. "I can't let our dear Kenpachi here destroy the only decent gay club in town, can I?..."

That stupid, conceited jack-off! Using me for a decoy like that! I can't believe him; just wait 'til I get my hands on that scrawny Quincy neck of his. Of all the dirty tricks...

Ichigo was fuming as he stomped his way back through the club. If it hadn't been for Urahara's interference, he would be toast right now. Toast. And it's all Ishida's fault, thought Ichigo, as he blindly pushed his way through the crowd of party-goers. There was a laser red, don't-fuck-with-me scowl on his face and his fists were clamped as tight as steel bear traps as his eyes scanned the dance floor for Mizuiro's small, dark head. Without knowing it, he had made his way back to the bar. All he wanted to do was find the other boy so he could leave. Then an antagonizingly familiar voice called out to him from the bar:

"Hey, Kurosaki!"

Ichigo whipped around, surprised to find Ishida half-balanced on a bar stool. Douchebag! Ichigo gritted his teeth and approached the other boy, his hands still gripped into tight fists. Don't hit him! Don't hit him! he mentally coached himself, even though his fingers wouldn't relax. Ishida's gorgeous cobalt eyes were expressionless as Ichigo walked up to him and raised his hand and-

-Ishida grabbed his wrist and pulled him against him, cradling Ichigo between his knees. Once again, their mouths crashed together in hungry impact. Ichigo's knuckles fell loose as he melted willingly into the other's kiss. Any and all thoughts of violence against the Quincy were chucked right out his mental window. His found himself, instead, hearkening to his more primitive desires as his Id took firm control of his libido's driver's seat. Fuck! Yes! More! was the monosyllabic extent of all his thoughts. And even those were short-circuited by the silky touch of Ishida's tongue against his. Ichigo moaned breathlessly into the other boy's mouth, and he could feel his cock rising involuntarily, his erection pitching a very serious tent in the front of his pants.

The sound of rapid, heavy breathing whooshed by his ears as Ishida broke the kiss to nuzzle along the side of his neck. Ichigo jumped and there was an electric zing! as the Quincy's hand strayed purposefully over his needy, bulging crotch. Ishida's voice was an almost inaudible whisper as he said, "I'm sorry about what happened earlier. What if I do something to make it up to you?"

Ichigo didn't trust his voice enough to answer.

Taking his silence for assent, Ishida climbed off the bar stool. And with his hand still firmly grasping Ichigo's wrist, he began to pull Ichigo toward a darkened space in the very back of the club. Ishida casually flipped back a black vinyl curtain, revealing a subdued, blue-lit room. The dusky lighting poured over them both, turning the Quincy's ebony hair into an inky, black oil spill. Ichigo allowed himself to be mindlessly led. He vaguely noticed other couples in various stages of making out: on dark couches, against the walls, on the floors, but he didn't spare them a second glance. No, his gaze remained firmly planted on the leather-clad prize in front of him.

Loud, throbbing music filtered through the room, almost, but not quite, drowning out the deeply sexual moans of the other participants. Without warning, Ishida turned and pushed Ichigo against the darkened wall, the seductive lighting picking out his storm-cloud lined eyes and turning them electric...

I am smitten

I'll do anything

(I'll do anything)

A kiss breath turpentine

My crush with eyeliner

Ichigo closed his eyes as Ishida's fingers fumbled with the clasp on his belt. His lips were parted and ready when the Quincy's tongue skirted across them in a teasing gesture, his touch as light as kitten whiskers. All restraint was abandoned the moment Ishida's hand plunged inside his pants, and Ichigo grabbed hold of the other boy, shoving his tongue forcefully down his throat. Ichigo's cock was on fire as Ishida worked the shaft, up and down, the cold leather of his gloves driving him insane with their slippery, velvetine touch.

"Uryuu..."

I am smitten

I'm the real thing

(I'm the real thing)

Won't you be my valentine

My crush with eyeliner

Ichigo gasped and glanced down. Lucent, milky droplets could be seen dotting Ishida's blacker-than-black gloves, like a glossy string of pearls beneath the bluish, ghostly lights. Another rough tug had Ichigo begging: "Ah! Uryuu! If you don't hurry up I'm gonna-"

The sentence went unfinished as Ishida dropped purposefully to his knees. Ichigo almost lost it at the first lick of the other boy's tongue on his cock, the shaft twitching wickedly, hopelessly beyond control. Ichigo let his head fall back against the wall, as the Quincy's mouth covered his cock in one single go. I. Am. Going. To. Explode. God, it was so good. It was like being set on fire, then dropped into a blissfully cool pool of water. It was like being inhumanly thirsty, then given a whole lake to drink. It was like dying and going to heaven...

It was the best fucking sensation EVER.

Ichigo had pretty much forgotten that it was Ishida who was working his cock with so much skill. Ishida, who annoyed the fuck out of him with his know-it-all ways and stuck-up Quincy pride. Ishida, with his disapproving, down-turned mouth, a mouth that liked to lecture him on all his screw-ups to no end...

...Oh God, what a mouth!

Ichigo forgot all about that other Ishida. He much preferred this one. The one with the slinky black leather and eye-liner, who gave mind-blowing oral sex...

Rough fingers were pressing against the underside of his balls. Ichigo gritted his teeth and bucked forward: Moving closer and closer to heaven. "Ngh. So close," he rasped. Then without warning, he grabbed Ishida by the hair and plunged forward and-

-a tapestry of white stars exploded behind his eyelids. The sound of static clogged his ears. The whole room melted, and he felt himself melting with it. The world was collapsing around him, and it was the most intense, perfect, awesome sensation he had ever felt. It was incredible. Wonderful. So fucking greaaaaat!

"Ichigo, let go."

Ichigo slowly came back down to earth. He realized he was still gripping Ishida's hair, and he let go of the other boy, who stood up and discreetly wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "C'mon, let's go back to the bar. You can buy me a drink." Ishida pulled him forward, and Ichigo lazily followed behind him, Ishida's willing slave. God, you're fantastic! Bright, rainbow-hued lights assaulted them as Ishida pulled back the curtain and the two of them walked back onto the club's main floor.

"Fucking A!"

"Way to go, Ichigo!"

"Way to bust a cherry, dude!"

"Yey, I'm up fifty bucks!"

Both Ichigo and Ishida froze. Waiting outside in a big semi-circle on the balcony was half the Seireitei: Ikkaku and Yumichika, Toshiro, Matsumoto, Kira and Hisagi, even Urahara was there. The sound of their catcalls and crazy applause was even more deafening than the music.

"Oh my god!" yelled Ichigo. "Were you guys seriously watching all this?"

"Oh hell, yes!" boomed Ikkaku. "I got me some money to collect!"

Urahara's fan fluttered teasingly before his face, not quite hiding his wide, wolfish grin. "What's the matter, Kurosaki? Your evening came to happy conclusion, did it not?" The fan then pointed towards his crotch.

Ichigo's fly was still down. Going red, he quickly zipped up. Then he turned to Ishida and said, "I think I hate this place. Can we leave and go to your house instead?"

There was a slow, sexy smile, and the flash of blue eyes in between dark, smoky lines: "Hmm, that sounds like a really excellent idea."

And with that, the two boys exited the club together, to the sound of ecstatic, raucous applause...

End/Fin.

I hope everyone had fun reading this! While not the most original idea, this piece was really enjoyable to write...