A/N: Warning: AU, BL, LOL, and various other acronyms. I do not own Bleach or these characters; this fic stands independent of my others. This one goes out to rotorviator (sorry, I haven't had time to write you back, I've been spending my free time on this gem). Not a one-shot, but who knows how many chapters it will be (not I, said the writer)? It all depends on the amount of feedback I get. Please read and review, even flames are welcome. Please keep in mind that this is eleventh division attack dog Renji, not follow you cute puppy Renji. That will come later :D Love, MD.
Heavy rain pelted a lonely figure walking against traffic on poorly lit sidewalks. A pale hand appeared from a dark pocket and clutched the jacket collar, trying in vain to keep the icy water out. He bent his head lower against the rain, dark hair plastered against pale skin. Ducking into an alleyway, narrowly missing a gaggle of running school girls, the man threw a despairing glare at the gloomy sky. Navy blue eyes squinted against the dirty drops before closing completely. He continued down the alleyway, keeping to covered doorways and metal overhangs, his white trench coat grey with water.
He paused in front of a nondescript door with peeling red paint. Glancing down the empty alley, thin fingers locked around the rusting handle and began to turn. Disappearing inside, the tall man let out a sigh of relief as the warm air enveloped his body. He stood in a dark hallway, the only light coming from an open doorway at the opposite end of the hall. The air was heavy with the smell of coffee and the sweet scent of baked goods.
The man shrugged out of his sodden jacket and hung it on a hook nailed crooked into the wall behind the door. Silently, he breezed to the end of the short hallway. Smoothing his white collar over the black lapel of his vest, he passed through a small kitchen, the cook on duty never even registering the taller man half hidden behind steaming pots. Pausing behind a purple swinging door, the slender man pushed a hand through his dark, damp hair, almost sighing as three long pieces fell stubbornly back into his face. Ignoring them, he pushed the door open and walked out into a crowded room.
The small coffee shop was more crowded than usual. Everywhere, people sat in groups of twos and threes, enjoying each other's company in the warm atmosphere of the shop. Tables and couches were placed around an elevated stage which was currently empty except for a piece of slate resting on an easel. The promise of live music and free coffee with an order of soup was scrawled across the blackboard in bright, bubbly handwriting. Tearing his eyes away from the stage, the dark-haired man began searching for an empty table. Finally locating one, close to the dark, drafty front windows, he lightly pushed his way through the crowd to claim the tall table for two as his own. Sitting down gracefully, he steepled his pale fingers and calmly gazed out the window. Occasionally, a particularly loud bit of conversation would float his way before disappearing back into the din. The man hummed tunelessly to himself, wishing to add to the anonymous noise around him.
Two dark hands fell over his eyes, pulling his head back to rest against something soft.
"Kuchiki Byakuya," a woman's husky voice purred in his ear. "You do know we own a front door, right?"
"I am as aware of it as you are of my reasons to ignore it," Byakuya started, pushing the surprisingly strong hands away from his face, "Shihouin Yoruichi." He turned to look directly at the woman, but only managed a glimpse of a wicked smile before she moved to sit down across from him. She fell easily into the chair, lounging on the uncomfortable metal like it was the finest rug. A black halter top showed off gratuitous amounts of dark skin. Matching black tights hugged her generous curves, her only accessory being the white and black wrappings around both forearms. Byakuya looked up into the catlike golden eyes of one of his closest friends, her dark purple hair flicking back and forth like an anxious tail.
"I may know those reasons, but I don't understand them. Is my place really so out of fashion to keep you from coming here publicly?"
Byakuya opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the flick of a paper fan.
"Whose place, Yoruichi-san?"
Two sets of eyes turned to face the owner of the voice. A tall, pale man stood next to the table, one hand tucked into the dark green yukata he was wearing, the other slowly fanning him, failing to conceal the large, unsettling smile on his face. Even in the darkness of the shop, he wore a striped green and white bucket hat pulled low over pale blond hair.
"You know what I mean, Urahara," Yoruichi amended, standing. "I guess I'll be getting back to work. What do you want tonight, Bya?"
Flinching inwardly at the nickname, Byakuya answered, "Just tea, please."
Yoruichi didn't even bother asking for details before she wandered off in the general direction of the kitchen. Byakuya was left to sit stoically under the unnerving stare of the shop keeper, the two beady eyes gleaming with mischief from the shadow of his hat. Refusing to fidget in front of the man, Byakuya folded his hands in his lap and looked calmly out the window. In the glass, he could see both of them reflected, confirming the feeling of the gaze that could be felt down the dark haired man's spine. As the silence stretched, Byakuya braced himself against the awkward situation. Just as he was hoping for the other man to leave, Urahara suddenly spoke.
"We've got a guest performer tonight, whom I really think you will enjoy," he stated, waving his fan lazily.
Byakuya turned away from the window to fix a stare at the blond. That single sentence made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The "innocent" shop keeper knew and was planning more than he let on.
"You have been watching me long enough to know I never stay until time for the live music you pull off the streets," Byakuya stated, his voice guarded and distrusting. "What makes you think that tonight will be any different?"
Urahara snapped his fan shut and tapped the side of his nose. "I just do."
As if on cue, the overhead lights dimmed. For a moment, only the single electronic candle on every table was the only light, outlining everything in a hazy gold. Just as suddenly, the stage was illuminated.
Byakuya turned to glare at the shady shop keeper, but Urahara had disappeared. He suddenly noticed the steaming cup of tea on his table and the suspicious absence of a certain waitress.
Yoruichi was definitely in on this...whatever it may be.
He turned back to the stage in time to see a man emerge from behind the dingy blue curtain, carrying a guitar in one hand and a chair in the other.
Byakuya's breath caught in his throat.
The man on stage was tall and well built, long red hair cascading around his shoulders and catching the light spectacularly. Black tribal tattoos rose from his eyebrows and disappeared into his hair. The man half turned, looking back stage and Byakuya caught sight of dark lines on his neck and shoulders before disappearing under the loose fabric of the white t-shirt he was wearing. He sat the chair down and leaned the guitar against it before heading backstage again. As he moved, he hiked his loose dark wash jeans higher on his slim waist. Byakuya couldn't help but notice the outline of thick, corded muscle under his shirt. The man reappeared, this time carrying a microphone stand, walking carefully as to avoid stepping on the mic cord. He sat the stand down in front of the chair, adjusting it before picking up his guitar and collapsing into the fold out chair. Long, tapered fingers strummed a few cords before he shifted in his seat and looked up, out at the crowd.
Almost immediately, their eyes locked. A sharp-toothed grin spread across the man's face. Byakuya looked quickly away, fighting the feeling of heat climbing his neck. He stared hard into the rain-splattered glass next to him, studying the reflection of the man on stage.
A young couple, sharing an umbrella passed by the window, only pausing to read the specials sign and debate on entering the coffee shop to get out of the rain. The woman was the first to notice the dark-haired man staring intently at them. She leaned closer into her boyfriend as his expression darkened menacingly. The man looked up into piercing gray eyes and almost immediately steered his girlfriend quickly down the street.
Byakuya didn't notice the couple. He was too busy watching the redhead on the small stage. The man sat, ankles crossed, relaxed like he was the only one in the room. He slowly tuned what turned out to be a twelve string guitar, his head cocked slightly as if he were listening with his better ear. His skin was tan, the gold that was so hard to find this time of year. Byakuya watched closely as the redhead struck an out of tune string, seeing his eyebrows furrow at the sound and a muscle jump in his strong jaw as he gritted his teeth. Finally content with the tuning, the redhead launched directly into the first song with no introduction.
Deft hands flew across the strings, weaving a beautiful melody and harmony simultaneously. Byakuya turned in his seat, away from the window, to watch the man on stage closely. He caught sight of a smug looking Yoruichi out of the corner of his eye, but chose to ignore her. The redhead leaned forward in his seat, his hands never slowing on his guitar, closer to the microphone. Taking a deep breath, he began to sing.
Byakuya's mouth went suddenly dry. His pale hand groped around the table in search of his tea, his eyes refusing to leave the man on stage. The redhead's voice was deep and smooth. The baritone timbre in his voice was warm and inviting. Thick lips stretched into a smile as the performer noticed the rapt expressions of his audience.
Finally locating the now lukewarm cup of tea, Byakuya's hand closed around the glass and shakily brought it to his lips. Taking a long drink, Byakuya closed his eyes and tried to regain his composure. There was no reason for this man to be wreaking so much havoc on his carefully maintained calm. He sighed and set down his glass with a soft clink. Looking up, he found the redhead watching him carefully as he sang. This time neither one of them looked away for a long time.
Byakuya began to lose track of time as one song flowed seamlessly into the next. Before he had the mind to finish his tea, the redhead was taking a bow. Slowly, Byakuya pulled his hands together to add to the wild applause that had erupted throughout the room. Byakuya slid from his seat and carefully navigated the room to the restrooms tucked into the back corner close to the kitchen.
It was a small bathroom with only one stall. After seeing to his business, Byakuya leaned over the low sink and turned on the water. Wetting his hands first, he reached for the soap dispenser.
He looked up automatically when he heard the door open behind him, locking gazes with eyes the most interesting shade of red brown. The redhead looked as surprised as he did, but recovered faster, letting the door close behind him, a lopsided grin spreading across his face and his eyes darkening with some unknown emotion. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the door, waiting.
Byakuya looked down and began to studiously clean his hands. He tried not to notice the way the redhead's eyes tracked his every movement, his gaze sending waves of heat through the older man. Careful not to drip water onto his clothes, Byakuya reached for a paper towel, inadvertently meeting the redhead's eyes in the mirror. Suddenly, he recognized the look the other man was giving him.
Hunger.
Focusing again on his hands, Byakuya carefully dried them, trying not to dwell on the redhead's presence. Finally, when the task could be continued no further, he tossed away the paper, straightened his shoulders, and turned to face the other man.
That was when he realized how tall the redhead was. He towered over Byakuya, his legs practically endless.
"Excuse me," Byakuya said, meeting his eyes and not sounding nearly as forceful as he wished.
Suddenly, he was pressed between cool tile and the warm body of the redhead.
"There's no excuse for how hot you look in those jeans." His voice was gravelly, practically a growl deep in his chest. Byakuya was so close he could feel the rumble reverberating in his own chest. He didn't have time to react before lips met his in a forceful kiss.
Byakuya pushed uselessly against the redhead's wide chest, able to feel the hard muscle roiling beneath his hands. He opened his mouth to protest, but the other man took advantage and slipped his tongue inside his mouth. Byakuya was assaulted almost instantly by the taste of cinnamon. The redhead's large, callused hands freely roamed his body, leaving trails of heat and goose bumps in their wake.
Without thinking, Byakuya's eyes slid shut and he yielded into the kiss. Slowly, he began moving with the kiss, not protesting as the redhead angled his head to delve deeper. Of its own volition, his back arched off the tile to press more firmly against the other man. The hands which had been pushing against his chest now roamed it, tangling in long strands of hair. The redhead slipped a knee between Byakuya's legs, putting pressure on a sensitive part. Byakuya gasped, leaving long gouges on golden shoulders as his hands automatically closed. The redhead hissed, but only deepened the kiss further.
Through the kiss induced haze, Byakuya realized what he was doing. He thought to pull away, but his body didn't wish to comply. Finally, he caught the other man's lower lip between his teeth and sucked, pulling a moan of pleasure from the taller man. Byakuya almost lost his resolve at that primeval sound. The knee between his legs moved again and Byakuya's body answered for him. His jaw clenched involuntarily, making him bite down hard enough to break skin.
The redhead growled and pulled away, dark eyes wide with shock. Byakuya watched as his devilish tongue tested the newly broken skin on his lip in disbelief. Byakuya untangled his hands and fixed a look meant to convey disapproval on his face, but it was ruined by his erratic breathing and blushing face. Trying to bring his body under control, Byakuya blinked slowly. He closed his eyes to a grinning face and opened them to an empty bathroom. No longer being held by the pressure of the redhead's body, he slumped against the cool tile and hung his head between his knees to try and catch his breath.
Had he really just made out with a perfect stranger in the middle of a public restroom? As the implications of what just took place began to sink in, Byakuya stood and walked shakily over to the mirror. His lips were red and swollen, his hair and clothes disheveled.
In a daze, Byakuya straightened his clothes and left the bathroom, briefly wondering to himself if he had been chewing gum before.
