Gimme some pain
A/N: my second fic on Bleach, review, please)
Lolling on the sofa, Ichigo and Renji, two all-time friends, have just returned from a party. Heads spinning, both guys looked giddy with more than enough alcohol circulating in their system, its effect telling on their actions, which they certainly realized judging by staggering – the way they came up to Renji's house. Unconsciously, the two walked towards the lodging and, surprisingly, Abarai was the first to notice that he had a company tagging after him. Under different circumstances he would have sent away a drinking buddy unwilling to have anybody around in his apartment or worse than that, in his bed, however, this case seemed out of the ordinary because, truth be told, the crimson-head didn't mind having this person nearby. After screwing up his eyes, he saw the all-too familiar orange leaning against the wall, almost clinging onto the doorknob in a need to be let in. to be let crawl over the threshold and inside, to be more exact. The said orange-haired one looked unstable, either due to Renji's blurry vision or he was seriously about to –
"Oh!" exclaimed the hesitating man catching up the all but collapsed body. "Another reason for bringing you here."
It took him some three minutes to pull out the keys, to make both ends meet, or rather, make the key and the keyhole meet, a click followed by a turn of the knob and then a satisfactory creak of the door signifying the fortunate accomplishment of the enter-the-right-apartment mission. He thanked god mentally – in his heart he half-expected such a lucky outcome of the task.
The other one who Renji lost sight of for some time and who was supposed to be in the close vicinity, was not here anymore, not at least within the field of view, so he got frightened for a second, yet one look at the floor proved reassuring – pressure applied to his shin was in fact a firm clasp of Ichigo's arms as he, totally drunk, rested calmly downwards at Renji's feet. Could the obviously more sober of them be thinking about bad blood between them or fights or cracks when his friend lay that vulnerable, maybe even drooling, down there…
"Yuck!" he jerked the leg, deeming the present situation very unpleasant, both for him and possibly spying neighbors.
Somehow, the owner of the apartment managed to drag the heavy yet warm and softened body into the darkness where he could feel comfortable. He didn't object the presence of this 'special' person, feeling a little guilty for wanting it even.
'That's what happens if bash consequences are ill-considered,' mused the tired panting man flopping onto the white piece of furniture eyeing the figure at his side. With genuine interest, curiosity he scrutinized Ichigo's face – a bit swollen, just like his own, but unshorn of cuteness, lips licked every once in a while, moistened by the tongue, twitching – apparently subconsciously – of an eyebrow, and also his chest, rise and fall of which he studied for even longer period of time, its motion lulling, pacifying. Of course, the sleeping beauty had folksy charm about him, Renji wouldn't have allowed him to enter his humble abode otherwise. Tonight, though, Kurosaki revealed himself as a Jonah – he had talked him into going for that party and then got him loaded and then invited himself to Abarai's house becoming an unwelcomed guest, the guest who was now mumbling something under his nose, randomly scratching an exposed part of his torso, and not that it wasn't making the pony tailed one horny – on the contrary, he wished he could invent an excuse to escape to the shower as soon as possible, but the damned idea wouldn't drop in his intoxicated mind.
"Come on, don't be such a meanie," drawled the bright-haired visitor, his eyes still shut. "Gimme some pain. I want it, I really do."
'Say what?!' the other sprang up from the seat wondering if his ears had deceived him, and if they hadn't, then he could start packing bags for a trip to paradise because his dear friend has just mentioned he wanted pain, he was truly set on doing it with the oh-so-sexy Strawberry. What the sober man thinks, the drunkard reveals, after all, so he, happy to hear the invitation, quickly went to the bathroom where he planed to prepare for the ritual he's been looking forward to since this evening at least. In the twinkling of an eye he did his business, back to senses again, coming to the living room to watch the sprawled form. He stepped forward to the unsuspecting victim, who suddenly cracked one eye open and repeated,
"And? Where's my champagne? I said I want it. I really do," and he went silent, giving in to sleep.
Abarai, dead in his tracks, stared at the boy unable to utter anything. He turned around and, still mulling over what has been enounced, left for another room. A few moments later a peal of wild laughter resounded throughout the apartment.
