A/N : Was supposed to be a OS but too long. uhm nothing really happening in this chapter.
Warning: Mature content in later chapters, cussing, etc. NO BETA unfortunately.
Enjoy!
You are what you eat
Chapter One: Staying as cool as a cucumber
Worn-out shoes shuffled across the concrete floor and skillfully avoided the miles of thick black cables littering the surface.
"Why does it have to be at 5 AM?" he grumbled between his teeth as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes for the twelfth time since he'd left the warm comfort of his bed.
A long yawn escaped his mouth. He was dead tired. And the worst was he knew he wouldn't be able to rest before probably long past midnight. That thought made him want to cry.
Ah well, the downs of being a TV host, huh?
Ichigo Kurosaki, popular and highly demanded TV host, loved his job and would trade it for nothing. Even if it meant that he'd had to behave uncharacteristically, that he'd have to be polite to everyone – even that rude and crass rock star Shirosaki – or waking up at ungodly hours. The unconventional Japanese redhead had worked too hard to achieve his dream to complain about little annoying details.
"Kurosaki-kun, good morning!"
Or big ones, such as this one.
A man with sandy blond hair and emerald green eyes waved at him with his fan. The huge grin and the ridiculous outfit the producer wore every time he saw him – which was every day – already grated his nerves. Ichigo would never understand how his father's best friend could be that energetic when it was still pitch black outside.
No wonder he and Goat Face are best friends…Birds of a feather flock together as they say.
The redhead scoffed and as he looked up from the floor, he noticed the scruffy man smiling at him expectantly. After dragging his feet for a few more meters, Ichigo stood in front of his 'boss', stared straight in the green orbs before nodding once.
The other man's face crumbled and in mock-hurt he started wailing:
"Aw, Kurosaki-kuuuun, your scowl is really scary! You should be smiling brightly and yelling 'Good morning, my beloved Urahara-sama!'"
The younger male was already leaving, his scowl deepening even more. Sometimes, his producer and his father behaved so alike that he wondered if they weren't long lost twins. His nostrils flared when he let out a harsh breath.
Calm down, Ichigo, calm down. Just ignore him like you have for the past three years already. Don't forget he's the one signing your pay checks.
With that thought in mind, the handsome TV personality trudged towards the dress room and make-up area.
As soon as he set down a foot in his personal room, a melodious tenor voice resounded.
"Ichigo, my dear, you've arrived!"
For the first time that morning, Ichigo let a small smile spread on his face.
"And you're already all pepped up and pretty, Szayel-darling," he chuckled.
Said man was wearing black skinny jeans and a striped long-sleeves which made his long and thin silhouette stand out. With that body and the pretty face the man had been blessed with, he could easily be a model. Ichigo was sure of it. But apparently, Szayel had been refusing offer after offer, claiming that he loved his job as a stylist, especially since it allowed him to be with the Japanese TV celebrity.
The bright pink haired stylist smirked, a tint of lust in his golden gaze, as he approached the beautiful redhead. His long fingers languidly caressed the toned shirt-clad chest of his friend before snaking around his sun-kissed neck. Then he whispered against Ichigo's lips.
"Don't say that, baby, or I might ravish you on the make-up table."
Honey-brown eyes and golden ones connected for a moment as tense silence settled in the private room. If someone had entered the room at that time, they'd think that the young men were about to have hot sex on the spot. Suddenly, twin smirks bloomed and loud laughter erupted. The sounds turned into subdued chuckles as the two men went to the clothes department of the big room.
Ichigo smiled contently as he listened to his pink haired stylist chatter about things stars carelessly told him. The redhead let slip a few comments or snorts but didn't say anything to add oil to the fire.
Stars really forget that stylists are human beings with a functioning brain too, he thought, shaking his head.
Szayel grasped his wrist as he led him through the rows of outfits hanging on hangers. As they walked, the stylist picked up items without even looking as he knew exactly where what was, despite the huge amount of clothes.
After trying a lot of combinations, the golden eyed male decided that Ichigo should wear a more casual outfit consisting of dark denim skinny jeans, a crisp white button-up shirt and black leather shoes. It would fit well with the theme of the special show later that day.
"So, am I good-looking enough, sugarplum?" Ichigo asked, not even unsettled by Szayel's usual critical gaze. His question took the latter out of his thoughts and the pink haired man licked his lips.
"Good enough for me, hot stuff," he winked at the Japanese male before adding, "come on, make-up's next. I don't want that goofy producer to enter my territory under the pretext that you're late." Golden orbs rolled as he thought about the obnoxious Urahara. Honestly, the man's poor taste in clothes and his lack of interest for being clean was driving him mad. So much potential gone to waste.
Szayel sighed and shaking his head grabbed his current 'work' with his long fingers again, dragging the man across the place before pressing him down on a comfortable chair in front of a big mirror. Big, brown eyes looked up at him questioningly, quietly asking what was on his mind.
"No, nothing, Ichigo," he smiled before grabbing a tube of cream, covering the Japanese male's tan skin with it.
Ichigo let the other cover him in foundation silently as he thought about the day's special program. The redhead did understand the reason why they'd picked him for the show- he was popular with ladies of all ages, was nice and warm (on TV) and young. However he was lacking a big asset to be the host for a special Valentine's Day show: He was the polar opposite of romantic. And then there was the fact that –
A sigh interrupted his train of thoughts. Ichigo looked at his stylist who was faking sadness.
"Ah, Ichi-berry, you give me nothing to work with. You're too beautiful for your own good."
Ichigo let out a snort, ignoring the nickname, and let Szayel take care of his flashy orange hair.
OoooooOOOOO
Leaving the dressing room with the promise to eat lunch with his pink haired friend, Ichigo walked towards the set, reading his script for the hundredth time already. It wasn't a script he'd have to follow strictly – except for the introduction and such – but there were some sentences he was expected to say whenever he saw it fit. The TV host cringed at some of those ridiculous lines the writer Aizen had come up with.
'I would never say this in real life!' he thought as he came across a particularly embarrassing innuendo. A scowl was rooted deeply on his face and never stopped growing as he read the lines again and again.
He shrugged in order to release some negative energy from his shoulders, knowing that arguing with Urahara would be pointless. This was his job and if he wanted to continue doing what he loved, he'd have to just shut the fuck up and keep his complaints for himself. He was a professional, after all.
The young man walked towards the main set of today's show – which consisted of a kitchen constructed in a way that the cameras and the public could clearly see what was happening. He could see Urahara talk with the sound supervisor Ulquiorra and the camera supervisor Abarai Renji. The three men were concentrated on a sheet – probably the schedule and directions – and Ichigo could see Abarai and Ulquiorra take supplementary notes as Urahara gave them more precise details to make sure the show went on without a hitch.
When he reached them, he coughed once to make his presence known to his colleagues. Urahara and Renji looked up with the same surprised goofy expression whereas Ulquiorra just stared straight through the TV host gloomily. Again, Renji and Urahara unconsciously copied each other as they both smiled at Ichigo.
"'Sup Ichi! Damn, ya look fine in those clothes," Ichigo's burgundy haired friend said as he checked out the other. He then held a fist in the air as a greeting.
Ichigo grinned as he knocked against Renji's fist.
"Ah well, ya know, 's not my fault everything looks good on me." He chuckled as Renji licked his lips exaggeratedly.
"But you look better without clothes in my opinion," mumbled Ulquiorra in his usual depressed voice. The two redheads laughed out loud at the black haired man's comment.
Honey brown eyes connected with poison green ones. A tiny smile and humour prickled in those incredible eyes though somebody who didn't know the raven sound supervisor wouldn't be able to see it.
The three college friends were wrapped up in their happy bubble when Urahara burst it by babbling:
"Oh that's true! I remember how cute you were when you were a baby and we would bathe together when your parents were too busy! Aaah, good memories! Well, except for that time when you pooped in the bath! That was dis-"
Ichigo's hand pressed against his producer's mouth to keep the embarrassing stories from being revealed. He sported a mortified look and a heavy blush as he yelled at his father's best friend to just shut the fuck up before he silenced him forever.
While Urahara tried to pry off the tan hand that was keeping him from breathing, Renji guffawed and Ulquiorra looked like he was about to chuckle. Ichigo started cussing, swearing that after their boss, they'd be suffering the same fate.
God, they'll never let me live it down.
After a good five minutes of laughter, angry curses and yelps, the group calmed down as they went back to focusing on their job. A few details later, the two technical supervisors left to give their respective crews a briefing.
Urahara looked around, making Ichigo wonder what the man was thinking about. Urahara scratched his scruffy stubble before his eyes lightened up.
"That's right! Your partner for today's show should already be here! I'll go look for him, so wait here, Kurosaki-kun."
The redhead did as he was told, fiddling with his script while waiting. He thought about his temporary 'partner', a certain Grimmjow Jaegerjaques (How should he pronounce that) who supposedly was a rising star in the culinary world for his impressive skills and creative recipes. Rumours even pretended that the 29 years old man could make you high just by making you taste a bit of his creations. And apparently, he was handsome too. Though Ichigo really couldn't confirm that bit of information yet since the cook refused having pictures of him taken.
'He doesn't want to have pictures of him taken yet he accepted appearing on a popular TV show. Makes no fucking sense… Maybe he's a loon or something?'
Ichigo thought about the man who seemingly was handsome… but Shirosaki was too and he was the craziest person the TV host had ever met on set. Or in his whole life, for that matter. He just hoped he wouldn't have to go through something similar today.
A cough brought the redhead's attention back to reality.
His head shot up and he came face to face with his producer. A deep frown settled on fine orange eyebrows:
"You're way too fucking close to me, Urahara."
Said man smiled, dimples appearing around the corners of his upwards stretched lips. He was about to say something – probably threatening Ichigo with a cheerful tone – when a deep chuckle resonated.
In his 26 years of existence, Kurosaki Ichigo would never have thought that a simple chuckle could make his innards rumble… or almost turn his knees to jelly.
Focusing on the source of that wonderful sound – which wasn't really all that hard – the redheaded reporter noticed the man standing next to his idiotic 'uncle' for the first time.
How could he have missed him before?
Seriously?!
Oh yeah, right, there had been a nuisance, a big bug filling his visual field before.
The man was – for the lack of a better description – what people called 'Sex on Legs'. He was tall – probably around 1m90, had a muscled built and the most handsome face Ichigo had ever seen. Pale yet healthy coloured skin stretched tightly over strong and hard muscles that were hardly concealed by the traditional white cook jacket. As he appreciated the man's body discreetly – or so he thought – his eyes travelled up the narrow hips hugged by a white apron, lingering a bit over the torso and the large shoulders before stopping at the face he could've sworn even Gods – if they existed – wouldn't possess.
The man's face really was a paradox: On one side, he had fine traits – a straight nose, full but not overly so lips and sharp eyes and fine blue eyebrows fixed in a permanent frown – but on the other side, a wild air seemed to seep out of every pore of his being. And the man's amazing blue locks did nothing to tame it.
When brown eyes connected with ice blue ones, Ichigo felt like he was completely trapped. He was not sure if he liked it. He wanted to just take roots on the spot and gaze into those marvellous eyes forever…but at the same time, he wanted to run away immediately. Really, Ichigo had no idea what he should do.
The other man's pools were swirling with emotions and crinkled on the corners as an even bigger smirk spread on his face.
"Heh, looks like he's got quite temper," the man said, his smirk never leaving his face.
Ichigo, ripped out of his trance once again, flushed and tried not to splutter like an idiot. He couldn't keep his heart from pumping faster and faster. Excitement and lust filled him almost instantly. That man, his presence, his appearance and his voice were too much for the poor TV host's senses.
What? He hadn't gotten a decent lay for some time already.
Though I'd probably have the same reaction even with an overactive sex life, Ichigo's inner voice deadpanned.
The scowl on Ichigo's face deepened. Yes, he was a little bit deprived, he knew it very well. But he still didn't like to be reminded of it every passing second of the day. After a few moments, he shrugged, trying to relax his tense posture and sighed. He then focused back on Grimmjow:
"I only show it when people annoy me, sir."
The blue haired cook let out a harsh laughter at that before the smirk settled back on his face. His petrifying eyes raked over the redhead's toned body appreciatively and a deep hum resounded in his broad chest at the same sight. Ichigo was pretty sure he could burst in thousand bits of flame on the spot. He felt so hot yet angry at the same time.
'What the hell is wrong with that guy?! I mean, sure, he's handsome as hell but who the fuck does he think he is, shamelessly eye-raping me like that?' the Japanese redhead ranted in his mind. He was about to give the other a tongue lashing when an annoying bug – bane of Ichigo's existence – made its presence known yet again.
Urahara, apparently completely oblivious to the heavy tension, slapped Grimmjow's broad shoulder while exclaiming:
"My my, you two are going to get along really well, I can feel it!"
The blue haired invitee scowled and glared at the obnoxious weirdo for interrupting him in the middle of his 'conversation', or more like staring contest, with the fiery redhead. The scruffy man completely ignored his heated stare as he continued prattling about the oncoming recording.
All the while, Ichigo was panicking in his mind. He was supposed to shoot during a whole day – a whole day as in from the early morning till late in the night – with that handsome guy who was taking his clothes off his body with his eyes?! The dude was freaking him out more and more!
After allowing himself a bit of self-pity, Ichigo strengthened his will and courage, keeping his face set in a scowling emotionless wall. He was a professional. He could handle an arrogant possible-rapist who looked like a sex demon. He had managed Shirosaki on his set before and since he was pretty sure no one could beat the rock star who'd flashed his parts during the love show, this guy could not be that much of a challenge… maybe.
Feeling calmer, Ichigo cleared his throat and stretched his hand out.
"Nice to meet you, Mister Jaegerjaques. I'm Ichigo Kurosaki and I will have the pleasure of working with you today."
The uniform clad man stared at his hand for a second, puzzled by the sudden change of attitude, before smirking at the TV host and shaking his hand.
"My pleasure, Mister Kurosaki. I'm sure today's show will be a great success."
His big hand – string and roughened from years in the kitchen – squeezed a last time Ichigo's slender one before letting go.
Grimmjow cackled internally. He liked his prey better when they were stubborn.
The tall cook let out a chuckle before passing by Ichigo to inspect the kitchen installed on the set with Urahara. His firm shoulder brushed against his interest's.
Ichigo's eyes widened as he tried his best not to let out a yelp. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and he paced quickly to the dress room.
Did he just grab my ass?
And suddenly, Ichigo was not sure if he'd be able to handle this handsome beast easier than the albino rock star Shirosaki.
OOOOOOO
A/N: And this is the first part! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I thought it'd be too long so I broke it down in four chapters. The end is already set too!
Thanks for reading and if you were to leave a review, I'd really appreciate it!
