Author's Note: Phew, finally! I wrote this about a week ago and have just been undergoing editing, beta reading and all that. I'm so happy to finally submit it! This is now just going to remain a Tatsuki/Ichigo one-shot. Sorry to all those expecting more.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach nor any of its respective characters, settings, etc. If I did, Ichigo would just pick a chick and settle down, rather than be so damn clueless about everything going on around him.

"Strawberries and Cream"

"Kurosaki!" a sharp voice grated Ichigo's ears. "Is it humanly possible for you take any longer!"

"Damn it," he mumbled under his breath, then called through gritted teeth, "Coming, Tatsuki!"

Tatsuki leaned over the counter, shaggy hair falling into her eyes as she set out a fresh plate of cookies. "You know how busy this place is on Saturdays! Wipe that dumb look off your face and get your ass in gear!"

Ichigo groaned and muttered something foul, grabbing the tray of baked goods and wading back into the madness.

"I've been waiting for fifteen minutes, busboy!"

And, oh, what madness it was.

Café Quartet was a popular rendezvous point among the younger crowd, situated only a block away from Karakura High School. It also didn't hurt that the owner was an attractive university graduate (a fact that had the girls swarming in everyday from three until eight). While Ichigo actually sort of enjoyed his job, it was the weekends that he absolutely abhorred working. From the moment the doors opened at seven o'clock, every Tom, Dick and Harry rushed in: from grouchy businessmen to twittering junior high girls to entire families. Children bounced around in their chairs, coffee was spilt, and raucous orders were shouted over the heads of others.

Worst of all, it put the baker in a bad mood. And when Tatsuki Arisawa was in a sour disposition, everyone from there to Osaka knew it.

"Move it!" a nasally young voice chimed, and Ichigo was violently nudged in the rib.

"Ungrateful little…" he grumbled, eyes following the kid and narrowed in a leer. Gathering himself together, he finally made his way to the table of fourteen or so college girls, placing down the tray of cookies and wiping sweat from his brow.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked, ignoring the frustrated shouts directed at him by other patrons.

One of the girls giggled a bit and then grinned. "Well, now that you ask…"

"Why don't you stay and eat with us?" punctuated another. "You look tired."

Ichigo smiled graciously, though not feeling quite as congenial inside. "Sorry, but the other waiter bailed ten minutes before opening, so I'm swamped."

The girls seemed disappointed but nodded and waved him off.

Exhaling heavily, Ichigo rushed back to the counter to pick up a frappuccino and a waiting piece of cake.

"It's crazier than usual today," Orihime, the cashier, said and smiled ruefully.

Ichigo shrugged. "I think someone told them Byakuya's coming in."

Orihime's eyes widened. "The owner's coming?"

He shrugged again, strategically balancing apple pie and chocolate cake in one hand, and a tray of cookies and two mugs of coffee in the other. "Don't know how else to explain all the girls."

"Ichigo!" Tatsuki reprimanded. "As much as I love to watch you two flirt while I'm slaving away in the kitchen, it would be nice if you would actually do your job!"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo gave Orihime a quick nod as she went back to the line of waiting customers. Quickly weaving through the numerous tables, he had only just emptied his arms when they were filled again – this time with empty cups and bare plates.

Returning to the front, he glanced around surreptitiously. Sneaking up, he grabbed the food before Tatsuki could spot him. While she was usually very nice and actually a great deal of fun to be around, she got especially cranky when things were busy. It wasn't that he wasn't doing his job any better then he did most days, it was merely that Tatsuki hated crowds (and she hated noise even more).

As Orihime watched Ichigo squeeze back into the mayhem, she relished the moment of peace. All the customers in line having paid, she took a moment to lean over the counter and smile at the baker. Tatsuki shuffled back and forth, opening and closing various ovens with incredible speed. Orihime's eyes couldn't keep up as she seamlessly switched from kneading dough to spreading icing over another creation.

"Tatsuki-chan," she called meekly, not wanting to bother her.

Tatsuki, despite her exhaustion, offered her best friend a kind smile. "Yes, Orihime?"

Even though she hadn't intended to, Orihime pouted a bit. "Please be nice to Kurosaki-kun. He's trying his best."

Taking a break from massaging cookie dough, Tatsuki patted her damp forehead with a rag. "I'm sorry, Orihime. I know."

"You two are friends, aren't you?" Orihime asked. "How come you're only together at work?"

"Together?" Tatsuki wondered and scoffed a bit. "That's a weird way to put it."

"Well, haven't you been friends since childhood?"

Tatsuki shrugged, crossing the room and taking a cake from the oven. Steam assaulted her face and she winced a bit, despite being used to it. "We're not so much friends as acquaintances."

Orihime frowned. "Doesn't that make you sad?"

Tatsuki looked up from the icing bowl, curious. "Why should it?"

"It's just that…"

"Excuse me?" a girl from the counter said, her tone laced with irritation.

Orihime sighed and smiled goofily. "Sorry, Tatsuki-chan."

Tatsuki nodded, a bit confused, as Orihime turned back to the cash register.

Suddenly, all the hustle and bustle in the small café stopped. Thanks to the newfound silence, the clatter of bells (signaling the door opening) announced a new arrival. A small murmuring was heard, spreading through the café like an undertow. All at once it was complete silence again, and as if through some biblical miracle, the crowd of people cleared. Through the newly formed parting walked Byakuya Kuchiki, entrepreneur and owner of the café.

Ichigo, who had never liked Byakuya very much, broke the silence when he continued to gather plates, making a deliberate clatter. The mood slipped back into ease, but was now only faintly tinged with chaos. Ichigo hated how Byakuya could do that: instantly force a room into submission with his mere presence. Again cursing beneath his breath, the waiter made his way behind the counter and into the backroom.

"Kuchiki-sama is here?" muttered Hanatarou, the dishwasher.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, placing the dirty flatware by the sink. "Yeah, but everyone doesn't need to make such a big damn deal about it." Offering Hanatarou a curt wave, he stopped by the kitchen. Inside Tatsuki had finally halted a moment, but only because Byakuya was talking to her.

"You'll overwork yourself," he cautioned. The statement would have seemed concerned if it weren't muttered in his usual "holier-than-thou" monotone.

Tatsuki forced a smile, though she was clearly not intimidated. "I'm used to this on Saturdays."

Byakuya glanced out at the customers, who seemed to sense his stare and quieted down a bit. "Is it always like this on Saturdays?"

Tatsuki shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. "For the most part."

Byakuya seemed to consider that a moment, and for some reason his moments of silence bothered Ichigo more than his moments of speech. "I've been unappreciative of your hard labor."

She grinned genuinely, kneading dough. "It's all right. I like what I do, so I don't need any more than that."

Byakuya's eyes bore into her back. "I should increase your wage."

Ichigo had to wonder where Byakuya, in his age, got all this money from – what with opening a café out of the blue, cutting reasonable salaries for all his employees and having paid university tuition. He knew his was the son of some rich, dead businessman, but doubted he was the type of person who used inheritance to pay off others. Then again, Ichigo supposed he didn't really know that much about Byakuya at all (a fact he was more content with than anything).

Tatsuki shook her head, coating her palms in flour. "Thanks anyway, but I'm fine. My parents are paying my way through high school, so it's not like I'm in any sort of trouble. Besides, I don't really need money. If I can bake and box, that's enough for me."

Byakuya didn't seem comfortable with that, but nodded anyways. "Very well."

"But," Tatsuki ventured, grabbing a rolling pin and flattening the dough into a sheet, "you might increase Ichigo Kurosaki's."

Ichigo's ears perked at that. Why was she doing him favors? He knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping in the first place – what he should be doing was his job. However, now that Byakuya had arrived the customers had become meek, and Ichigo worked on a "don't ask, don't serve" basis.

Tatsuki continued, "He doesn't exactly dislike his job, but I know he's not in it for kicks either. Not to mention he's got two little sisters, and I'm not sure his dad's pay covers all their expenses. Even besides all that, I think he works the hardest out of all of us."

Byakuya mulled it over for a moment, and then changed the subject, "And what of Orihime Inoue?"

Tatsuki laughed, punching shapes with a cookie cutter. "She wouldn't accept a raise if you force fed it to her."

Their conversation faded back into expenses and taxes, and Ichigo felt some weird knot twist within him. Tatsuki pitied him? Was that it?

"Screw that," he practically hissed, deciding to double back rather than go through the kitchen. Grabbing plates of entrees that had piled up in his absence, he went about the rest of the day in complete silence – making an exceptional effort to ignore Tatsuki.

When eight o'clock rolled around and Ichigo finally saw the last customer off, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Locking the door and switching the "open" sign to a less colorful "closed" one, he ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. After a Saturday in Café Quartet, nothing was sweeter than the sound of silence.

Being able to stave it off no longer, Ichigo went about wiping down the tables. Over the sound of ovens slamming shut for the night, he could hear Orihime humming as she sorted the bills in the cash register. Change clattered and clinked in tune with her off-key melody, and he forced himself to smile a bit.

Hanatarou emerged routinely from the backroom, wiping his hands with a dishtowel. "My parking meter's about to run out. I've got to go put in some more quarters."

"Are you kidding me?" inquired Ichigo. "Why don't you just park your bike in the store lot?"

"He's right," affirmed Tatsuki. "You must lose at least a hundred dollars a month on those meters. Not to mention you're not even old enough to drive, so if you get a fine you're probably also getting jail time."

Hanatarou blushed. "There's no room in the lot, or I would."

Ichigo scoffed, running the rag over another table. "Byakuya should be spending money on expanding the lot, not on increasing our stupid wages," he muttered.

"What?" asked Tatsuki, but Ichigo ignored her.

"Yamada-kun?" Orihime called, sliding the cash register shut and locking it. "Why don't I go with you? I need to stop by the magazine store anyway, so maybe we can walk together."

Tatsuki rolled her eyes. "New issue of Exotic Cooking Monthly in?"

Orihime nodded emphatically. "This month's special recipe is sweet bean paste with chives, leeks and cinnamon!"

Ichigo barely resisted gagging as he set a chair on top of a table.

"Sure, Orihime-san," Hanatarou agreed, smiling. The two bid Tatsuki and Ichigo a short farewell, promising to be back in twenty minutes, and left through the backdoor.

A few moments of silence drifted between the two remaining employees until Tatsuki finally asked, "So how are things at the clinic?"

Ichigo shrugged, embers of his earlier anger flickering back to life.

Tatsuki gave him an odd look and the two resumed quietly cleaning. What seemed like an eternity passed by, with the only noise being the incessant ticking of the clock.

"Oh, damn," Tatsuki muttered, shutting the large refrigerator. Peeking over the counter, she said to Ichigo, "Trade you sweeping duty if you go grab me three cans of icing from the storage room."

He would have asked why, but he opted for setting up the last of the chairs and muttering, "Fine."

Wandering through the kitchen and backroom, Ichigo followed the short hallway. Arriving at the door that announced the storage room, he opened it and kicked a familiar stool in its way, keeping it ajar. Flicking on the light, he walked between the few rows of metal shelves, seeing but not necessarily looking for icing.

For some odd reason, he couldn't get his mind off of the conversation he'd overheard earlier. Even now, hours after Byakuya had gone, the fury smoldered in his mind. "What, does she think I need her charity?" he asked aloud, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I can get along fine without Byakya's money."

Putting aside his personal annoyances, Ichigo spotted the icing on the very top shelf. It didn't help to quell his anger when he realized he couldn't reach it. Too lazy to seek out a stool, he hiked one foot up on the lowest tier. Pulling himself up with his hands, his fingers were only inches away from the large cans of icing when his toe slipped. Ichigo fell backwards, crashing into the opposite shelf and sending numerous bottles of whipped cream clamoring to the floor.

"Damn it!" he cursed.

"What's going on?" Tatsuki asked, peering in from the hall.

Scratching the sore spot on his head, Ichigo grimaced. "Nothing."

Tatsuki crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Couldn't reach it, could you?"

"I could if I wanted to," he countered.

"Just thought you'd get in some rock climbing practice?" she mused. "Why don't you just use a stool?"

"If you have one, give it to me," he retorted, letting more anger seep into his tone than he'd intended.

"What is your problem tonight?" Tatsuki gave him a reprimanding look. "If you're going to be such an idiot about every little thing, I'll get the icing myself."

"Then do it!" Ichigo growled. "See if I care!"

"Fine!" Tatsuki shot back. "I will!"

Before he could protest, she grabbed the stool that held the door open, marched in and placed it at his feet. Giving him a fiery glare as she stepped up, she grabbed two large cans of icing and remained on the stool, glowering down at him. "See? Maybe if you stopped whining once in a while, you could figure out the simple mechanics of stools too!"

He stared at her for a moment. "You dumbass!"

"What now?" she shouted, almost ready to bring one of the icing cans down on his head.

"The door's broken!" he said, rushing for the exit. His hands wrapped around the doorknob, shaking it vigorously. "It locks from the inside!"

Tatsuki's face went blank. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" he spat, yanking the door with the most force he could muster. The mahogany monstrosity didn't budge. "Everyone knows this door locks from the inside!"

"Well, I didn't!" Tatsuki placed the icing cans at the foot of the shelf and walked over to help him. "But thanks, tips!"

Their eyes shot daggers even as both their hands gripped the door handle, pulling until their arms felt stringy. Finally realizing their efforts were in vain, they collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor.

"Way to go," Ichigo muttered, burying his face in his palm.

"Oh, that is it!" Tatsuki yelled and stood. "I don't know what your deal is, but you've been a complete bastard ever since this afternoon!"

Ichigo stood as well, glaring at her intensely. "So what!"

"So get over it!" she told him. "I don't know what you have to be mad about, momma's boy!"

"Maybe I'm pissed because you think I need your charity!" he exclaimed, and she took a moment to give him an incredulous stare. "That's what you told Byakuya, isn't it? 'Give Ichigo a raise, he needs it!'"

Tatsuki blinked a few times out of confusion. "That isn't what I said."

Ichigo, however, would have none of it. "Just because I'm not rich doesn't mean I need your Goddamn hand-outs!"

"Ichigo, that isn't what I meant," she insisted.

"Whatever," he hissed, still simmering. "I don't need your pity, all right?"

Suddenly, Tatsuki's sympathetic eyes twisted into a glare. "You are such a child!"

He leered at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me!" She pointed a finger accusingly at him. "All you ever do is complain, complain, complain! Maybe when you stop bitching, I'll stop pitying you!"

"Oh, that's ironic," he said spitefully, "coming from a bitch like you!"

"A bitch like me, huh?" she asked, giving his shoulders a push. "Isn't this the bitch that kicked your ass everyday of judo?"

"We were kids!" he told her, glaring. "Shit like that doesn't count!"

"Oh, what a surprise, little Ichigo's whining again!" Tatsuki mocked. "Cry me a river, strawberry head!"

Ichigo's hands balled into fists. "I promised my mom I'd never hit a girl," he threatened.

"Won't you?" she tested him. "I fucking dare you!"

"Shut up!"

"Go on! Hit me!" she persisted, stepping towards him and forcing him back into a shelf. "Why don't you be a man for once!"

"I'm not going to hit you, damn it!"

"Come on! Maybe if you actually stand up for yourself, I'll just die of shock!"

Ears burning with rage and no longer able to contain it, Ichigo did the first thing that came to mind: he reached behind him, grabbed a can of whipped cream from the shelf, flicked off the lid, and aimed it right at Tatsuki's face. "I fucking swear…"

Tatsuki's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" he countered, finger poised on the spray button.

Before he could react, Tatsuki reached behind him and soon had her own spray can directed right between his eyes. "Go for it."

He glared at her, mind teetering dangerously close to abandon.

"Come on," she pressured, smirking. "I love strawberries and cream."

"That's it!" he growled, and Tatsuki didn't have time to blink before he pressed his finger down.

Screaming bloody murder, Tatsuki stumbled backward and wiped the substance from her face, eyes burning with rage. "You bastard!"

Ichigo only had a moment to grin before Tatsuki lunged forward, dragging him to the ground and spraying whipped cream at him. Pushing her away, his hands flew to a bottle of sprinkles. Yanking the lid off, he threw them at her, and she soon found herself coated in little pink hearts.

"How's that?" he chided, wiping the cream from his cheek and flinging it at her.

"You think that's funny?" she asked, lunging for a random bag and tearing it open. Chocolate chips flew at him, sticking to his face and tumbling down his shirt. "Now you're a chocolate covered strawberry!"

Releasing a guttural growl, Ichigo slowly reached for a can of icing.

"Don't you dare," Tatsuki warned. "That stuff's expensive."

Popping the lid open, Ichigo grinned evilly, "Yeah, but I think seeing you in it will be priceless."

Reaching a hand in, he grabbed a glob of brilliant blue icing and threw it at her. She dodged just in time, the icing hitting the far wall with a resounding splat. Doing a surprisingly limber summersault, Tatsuki had her own can within seconds. Not a moment had passed before the lid was off, her hand coated to the wrist with pink frosting.

"You wanna go, berry boy? Then let's go!" Launching forward, Tatsuki fired handful after handful of the pastel pink trimming at him. He managed to dodge only a few strikes, but countered with his own arsenal of azure icing. The battle continued, a gob of blue striking Tatsuki on the cheek. She retaliated, launching a dollop of pink that hit him directly on the forehead.

Splat! A container of icing sugar went from white to cyan.

Splam! A bag of flour changed from yellow to fuchsia.

Ichigo continued attacking Tatsuki, hand retreating back into his can until he was utterly horrified – he grasped nothing but metal. Looking up with a tinge of fear, he saw Tatsuki grin triumphantly until her expression suddenly mirrored his own.

"All out?" he asked, half mocking and half tepid.

"Shut up," she snarled. "At least I'm not pink."

"You just never give up, do you?" he asked curtly.

"That's the difference between you and me," she told him. "That and I don't cry every time I break a nail."

"That's it!" he yelled again, tossing his empty icing can aside and lunging for her.

She met him halfway and managed to gain the upper hand, pinning him down. Reaching for the abandoned bag of chocolate chips, she took a handful and tried to shove some in his mouth. "Why don't you just get fat!"

Shoving her hand away, he reversed their positions, clasping a can of whipped cream and spraying her. "Your baking sucks!"

Tatsuki hissed, finding the half-empty jar of sprinkles and tossing its contents in his face. "You're the slowest waiter I've ever seen!"

"You're a crappy boxer!"

"You punch like my grandmother!"

"You look like a boy!"

"You run like a girl!"

"Your nose is weird!"

"You smell funny!"

After Tatsuki's last comment, they finally ran out of things to throw or shove in each other's faces. Having nothing to do but stare one another down, they finally registered all the things they just said. Blinking a bit at the absurdity, the two suddenly erupted into laughter.

"I can't believe you just said that!" Ichigo told her between snickers.

"Shut up! My nose is not weird!" she shot back, though her cruel intent was superseded by her giggling.

When their laughter finally subsided, Ichigo looked down at her without a glare. "Well, it does when it's all blue like that."

Tatsuki stuck her tongue out. "Yeah, well your cheeks are all pink." To punctuate her point, she reached up and poked him.

Wincing, he grabbed her hand and was about to reply when they both suddenly realized the position they were in. Tatsuki lay beneath Ichigo, his legs on either side of her waist, with her hand in his.

Tatsuki blushed beneath the blue icing. "Um…"

Ichigo laughed awkwardly, releasing her hand.

"You have some icing on your ear," she told him, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"You have it everywhere," he replied frankly.

Rolling her eyes, Tatsuki reached up with her other hand to wipe the pink away. Despite herself, she let her hand linger a little too long, allowing her fingertips to lightly brush his jaw as they fell back down.

His smile faded a bit and he gave her a look she didn't recognize. "You have some right there," he told her un-specifically.

"H-here?" she asked, cursing herself for stuttering as she wiped her fingers across her cheek.

Ichigo shook his head. "I'll get it." The backs of his fingers slid over her chin – for a time she knew was longer than necessary.

"Thanks," she barely whispered. "Anywhere else?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "Want me to get it?"

Tatsuki nodded, eyes drifting closed as his lips slipped over her own. She tipped her head up, opening her lips and permitting him entrance. She nearly smiled when she noticed he tasted like chocolate and, amusingly, strawberries. His tongue glided over and under her own, tangling as he nibbled her bottom lip ever so slightly. Tatsuki placed a hand over the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She arched upwards when she felt one palm snaking up her waist while the other stroked her cheek.

They broke for a moment and quickly resumed the kiss with more fervor. Tatsuki inhaled sharply, feeling Ichigo's fingers tug at the end of her shirt. Fabric sticky from icing, he peeled it off her until she lay beneath him in her bra, still coated in whipped cream and dotted with a few pink sprinkles. She grinned into his lips, running her hand through his tangled hair and over his chest. Yanking at his shirt's hem, she had it over and off him in one fluid motion.

Ichigo moved downward, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, stopping to nip lightly on her ear. His knees migrated from beside her waist to between her thighs, nudging them apart. She mewled in contentment, wrapping her legs around him and closing the little distance left between them. She felt his lips smirk against her skin, his tongue gently licking up the sprinkles and cream he himself had caked her in. Slipping a bra strap off her shoulder, he dotted kisses from her collarbone to the soft dip between her breasts.

Tatsuki was about to ask for more when an unfamiliar sound was heard. Looking up suddenly, Ichigo swore as he saw the doorknob jiggle.

"Tatsuki-chan?" came Orihime's muffled but worried voice from behind the door. "Kurosaki-kun? Are you in there?"

Unable to move, Tatsuki bit her lip and responded, "Yeah."

Even from behind the door, they could hear Orihime sigh with relief. "Yamada-kun's gone to get the key! We'll get you out in a second!"

"Okay!" Tatsuki replied, even as she and Ichigo frantically scrambled to get their clothes back on.

Ichigo had just finished pulling his shirt down when the door flew open and Orihime rushed in. "Are you two all…" she paused, beholding their predicament and the state of the storage room.

"What happened?" Hanatarou asked, looking around in bewilderment.

Tatsuki and Ichigo followed suit, noting for the first time the mess they'd created. Splotches of blue, pink and purple seemed to be scattered on every wall and shelf of the room. Sprinkles and chocolate chips lie at their feet, with overturned bags of flower and icing sugar coating the floor like snow. Whipped cream clung to and hung from the ceiling, dripping down in small splatters.

One such droplet hit Orihime square on the nose. Befuddled, she whisked a finger through it and tentatively licked it off. "Whippped cream?"

"Uh…" Ichigo mumbled, glancing warily at Tatsuki. "Yeah."

Orihime gave them another wide eyed stare before she pouted theatrically. "You had a food fight and you didn't invite me?"

Tatsuki grinned goofily, scratching the back of her neck. "Heh, sorry, Orihime. We got a little carried away."

Orihime, still frowning, seemed to have more to say when Ichigo interrupted her. "So where were you?"

Hanatarou flushed pink. "Well, when we got there the meter had already run out. The police officer, Tousen I think his name was, was really mean and kept saying he was going to take me 'downtown', so Orihime spent at least half an hour talking him out of it."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, knowing the police officer was probably less swayed by Orihime's sincerity and more annoyed by having to listen to her drone on about bean paste and cinnamon.

"Sorry," Orihime muttered.

"It's all right," Tatsuki cajoled, stretching. "What do you say I go get cleaned up and you tell me all about it?"

Orihime nodded excitedly. "But what about Yamada-kun and Kurosaki-kun?"

Tatsuki grinned devilishly at Ichigo. "They can start cleaning up."

Before Ichigo or Hanatarou had time to protest, Tatsuki was out the door and heading down the hall with Orihime in tow. "So, tell me about your parking meter adventure."

Orihime stumbled trying to catch up. "Can I ask you a question first?"

Tatsuki looked at her curiously. "Sure."

The redhead raised a hand in thought. "I was just wondering, since Kurosaki-kun's all pink and you're all blue…"

"Yes?" Tatsuki prodded.

Orihime smiled knowingly. "Well, why are your lips pink?"

Tatsuki immediately stopped and blushed until her ears burned. "Uh…" Dipping her head and muttering something incoherent, she walked on in flustered silence.

Orihime followed behind, grinned like a fool, and said wisely, "Just acquaintances, huh?"