Losing the War

Author's Note: Hello again! All right, so the main story is going to be quite a bit different from its prologue as you will see here, and so I ask that you just go with it. Haha. 'Tis what I'm doing. :-P Also, I believe it goes without saying that this is not canon compliant despite me writing it in this universe.

- Chapter 1 -

"Can you hear me, Kurosaki-kun?"

Brown eyes opened with a groan to find Orihime Inoue, Ichigo's childhood friend, leaning over him, a warmth spreading in his chest that was becoming far too familiar. He was being healed. He closed his eyes tightly as unpleasant memories bombarded him. That was right, he had lost. Badly. And then to top things off he had kissed the arrancar he was supposed to be fighting. A ragged laugh escaped humorlessly from cracked lips.

"Shhh, try not to move too much," the red-head said as she focused on healing his many wounds.

"Sorry," Ichigo croaked. What had he been thinking earlier? At the time he had just been furious that the Espada had taken such liberties with him. But now… now he was just certain he was insane - kissing a hollow? There had to be something very wrong with that. Hadn't there?

He looked around at the solemn group as his friend continued to work on his wounds, her work lit only by the moon hanging heavily above them as he laid on the roof of some building. They were all there: Sado, Rukia, Renji, Ikkaku, Toshiro and Rangiku. They had all survived their battles. Although he had technically only survived because the blue-haired demon named Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had seen fit to spare his life.

He closed his eyes, partially from relief but mostly from the turbulent emotions roaring more angrily in his chest the stronger he grew. He could still remember when Renji had found him, the seasoned Soul Reaper had told him that it was only a loss if he was dead. He wondered what the fiery red-head would have said if he had told him the whole truth; that he was pretty sure the Espada had only left him alive because he wanted to mess around with him first, and all of the blood loss had been a restricting factor at the time.

He laughed again. No one had told him that hollows had libidos.

"Ichigo?"

"Yeah Rukia?' he asked as he looked up at the raven-haired Soul Reaper leaned over him, her gaze trained on him.

"You should rest," she said quietly.

He nodded slowly and closed his eyes, trying to focus on relaxing the muscles that Orihime was working intently on knitting back together.

Blue hair, bluer eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. Sharp teeth that were somehow making his heart skip to a funny beat inside his chest as if it were afraid they would rip it to shreds but a little more scared that they might not.

"How much do you want me, Kurosaki Ichigo?" The words murmured in a deep voice that rumbled the hard floor beneath him. "I want to hear you say it."

A needy groan escaped parted lips and short breaths punctuated the otherwise silent room. "So fucking much." Hands slid up over smooth skin that conformed to sinuous muscles that lay underneath and stopped to grab hold of baby blue locks, pulling back with a sharp tug to accentuate a solid jawline even further as neck muscles flexed beautifully.

"Fuck, I like it rough. We're going to have so much fun together."

Ichigo shot up in his bed. He gasped for air, his skin covered in a cold sweat as blood pumped furiously through his veins to his entire body, particularly between his legs. He groaned and let his face drop into the palms of his hands, trying to scrub the dream from his mind. No not a dream. A nightmare. He pushed down his blankets and pulled off his shirt, feeling way too hot in his usually cool room.

"Shit." He dropped back down, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to will his racing pulse to slow and his body to calm down. It wasn't real, it was just a dream, he insisted to his misfiring brain that was sending all the wrong signals to his confused body. He took in a calming breath and closed his eyes. Just a dream.

Ichigo trudged down the busy hallways of his school, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his bag hanging over his shoulder carelessly, the usual spring in his step gone. Not that it had been an overly springy walk to begin with, but it was the principle of it. It was definitely flatter. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to scrub away the seemingly permanent fog clouding his thoughts. He just needed to get a good night's rest; then maybe he'd feel some better.

Sleep, he scoffed mentally at the dwindling pastime. It was nothing but a distant memory since he and his friends had faced off with the arrancars for the first time. At least any sleep that wasn't filled with disturbing images and feelings. Feelings that were just not right.

He adjusted his collar uncomfortably and forced a smile at a pretty girl in his class who had lifted a hand in greeting. He lowered his head, averting his gaze quickly after the silent interaction, picking up his step when she slowed down. He really wasn't in the mood to politely fend off unwanted attention.

"Ichigo!" Keigo Asano shouted as he ran at a mad sprint towards him, stopping just short of attacking him as he usually would, or at least trying to attack him. He squinted his eyes, studying his friend carefully. "Are you sick?"

The orange-haired boy shook his head and continued to walk towards their first class of the day. "No, just tired. Long weekend," he said to the boy who he had been friends with ever since he had started school.

"Weekend? Ichigo, you were gone most of the week too, it's Friday!" the dark-haired boy shouted by his side, an incredulous edge to his words. "What happened? I called your house, but your dad just said you were probably at Sado's, but I checked and you weren't!"

"Please don't yell, Keigo, I have a headache." Ichigo closed his eyes slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips. Friday? Had he really been home that long? Why hadn't anyone said anything to him? Even Rukia who was usually quick to shout at him and tell him exactly what was on her mind had been somewhat different with him lately, hanging back and shooting him odd looks when she thought he wasn't looking. What was going on?

"Sorry, listen," his friend started in a more appropriate level. "We're going out tonight. You and me. You've been way too busy with those new students, and Sado is coming too. He agreed this morning on the way to school. So…. you're in right? Tell me you're in."

The orange-haired boy looked over at his friend, opening his mouth to turn him down when he noticed a hopeful look gracing his features. He really hadn't been around much with everything, and maybe he could use some time away from the Soul Reapers. Maybe then he could forget about the blue-haired Espada who had seemingly left Hueco Mundo to live in his nightmares instead. No wonder he had let him live, he was planning on driving him insane first. Torture then death. It actually made a lot of sense now that he thought about it. He would definitely peg the arrancar as one for the dramatic going off their short interaction-

"Ichigo?"

"Huh?" he looked over, Keigo's call having pulled him from his morbid musings. He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, stopping in front of their first class of the day and glancing in to see Rukia and the others already in there and looking at him expectantly. He pulled him back away from the doorway, nodding reluctantly. "All right. Just us."

"Great!" the dark-haired boy shouted, slinging an arm around his shoulder, seemingly forgetting about his headache. "We're going to this new dance club. It'll be so much fun!"

Ichigo grimaced, rubbing at his temples as he walked in the room with his friend talking loudly in his ear.

"Wow, look at this place!" Keigo shouted over the thumping beat, his words not matching his mouth as the lights flashed at a dizzying pace. He held a red-colored drink in his hand that he was clearly not old enough to be drinking. "Isn't it something?"

Ichigo ran a hand up into his wild hair and nodded in somewhat of a daze. He had definitely been with the Soul Reapers too much, he felt completely out of sync with the crowd's vibe, most of the patrons around his age or a little older as they moved exuberantly to the music looking as if they didn't have a care in the world. Well, other than getting into the pants of whomever they were grinding up against, he amended. He shook his head. It was only a little after nine and all he wanted to do was go home and lie down. "Where's Chad?"

"He couldn't make it after all," his friend said, taking a drink and looking indifferent to their friend's absence. "Come on," he said, waving his glass in the air around excitedly. "You gotta admit, this is something!" he said again but with more enthusiasm as if he were trying to infuse some of it into his lackluster friend.

"It's definitely something," Ichigo muttered to himself as he scanned the unfamiliar room. The club had high ceilings, the windows all blacked out and walls painted black with neon splashes of color that glew fluorescent under the flashing black lights. There was a DJ's booth in the far back corner, the man inside of it working away diligently, bobbing his head to the beat as the crowd outside cheered him on, and most of the space was a dance floor except for the small area where they were standing by a bar. He frowned as he began to notice a trend, his gaze shifting sharply from one couple to the next. Not all, but a lot of the couples were both guys. He looked over at his friend in bewilderment. "Keigo, this is a-"

"No it's not!" the boy shouted back, cutting him off and shaking his head with a vengeance. "It's just a special thing they're doing this weekend." He smiled widely. "I thought this might be more your speed," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as orange eyebrows shot up under an equally orange fringe.

Ichigo opened his mouth to either deny his friend's insinuation or let loose a line of expletives—he hadn't quite decided yet—when a tap on his shoulder stopped him. He frowned and turned around sharply. "Listen here, I'm not-"

He was stopped short for the third time that night, this time though the interruption was due to a pair of unfathomably deep blue eyes that were set four inches higher than his own chocolate brown ones. He blinked, the vision before him the same when his eyes reopened. It couldn't be, he must be seeing things. There was absolutely no fucking way.

"Not what? A good dancer?" the tall, icy blue-haired man asked in a silky smooth voice as he shocked Ichigo with a wide grin, his words taunting and eyes dancing with unrestrained excitement. He licked his lips, his gaze running up and down the stunned boy's body before taking a step closer and saying in a lower voice, "That's okay, I can teach you."

Ichigo stood frozen, shock holding him firmly in place with its paralyzing grip as he stared up at the assumed Espada, his mind racing. He looked just like him. It had to be him. His mind unhelpfully supplied some flashes from his most recent dream that starred the grinning blue-haired man for the sake of comparison. Brown eyes narrowed accusingly, and he spat out, "You."

Lips curled back to reveal perfectly straight white teeth that were not inappropriately sharp, excepting a set of impressive canines.

"Me," the man countered simply, shoving his hands into grey pants pockets and pushing up onto his toes before rocking back onto his heels, somehow managing to look more polished by the casual action.

Grey pants? Ichigo blinked. His eyes scanned the man's attire with a new awareness, seeing his outfit for the first time. The bastard was wearing regular human clothes; black sneakers, charcoal colored slacks and of all things - a fitted blue shirt that was a couple shades darker than his eyes and several more than his hair. "What are you doing in those clothes?" he demanded sharply. "And how the hell have you been getting into my dreams?"

A boisterous laugh filled the air. "My, you're quite the aggressive flirter, aren't you?" His smile darkened, blue eyebrows arching in a devilish curve. "I like it." He reached out a hand in offering, palm up. "Would you like to dance?"

"No, I don't want to fucking dance!" Ichigo shouted, growing more upset by the second as he struggled to decide if he should just leap out of his body in the crowded area. Someone might call an ambulance if he just dropped in the middle of the club, and he and Keigo weren't technically supposed to be in there, and as of now the arrancar wasn't attempting to attack any of the people around them—He growled in frustration as he tried to figure out the best course of action. He didn't want to make things worse. He took a step closer, his voice a growl as he spoke, "What the hell is your angle? You think you can just walk up to me and ask-"

"Ichigo!"

The orange-haired boy turned to his friend standing beside him with a look of surprise etched on his features, having forgotten he could hear him. He must think he was crazy talking to apparently no one.

His friend shot him a look of bemused disapproval. "Just go fucking dance with the guy. What's wrong with you?"

Ichigo glanced back over at the Espada - who was grinning, his eyes dancing with unspoken amusement - and then back at his friend. He raised a hand slowly, pointing a finger hesitantly at the blue-haired man. "You can - you can see him?"

Keigo's eyebrows furrowed as he nodded slowly, shooting his friend a look oddly somewhere between concern and suspicion. "Yeah... Why wouldn't I be able to see him?"

Ichigo frowned. He looked back at the man, studying him again. Shit. Maybe he wasn't the hollow. His gaze dropped suddenly to the man's torso, looking for but not finding a dip in his lower abdomen where he would have expected there to be nor did he feel any significant spiritual pressure coming off of him. Odd.

His hand reached out seemingly of its own accord and pulled the blue shirt up to reveal a very tone stomach. His gaze drifted down, following along tapering muscle lines to find completely unblemished skin that dipped under a pair of low slung slacks, the rest hidden from view. It was gone. "Where'd it go? How did-"

"Looking for something?"

Ichigo started at the teasing words, his gaze shifting up to meet highly amused eyes with another emotion swimming in them that made him swallow hard as he still gripped a handful of soft, blue material tightly in his fist. "Ah..."

The man let out a husky laugh. "Maybe you should look lower," he offered helpfully, his eyebrows raising in a suggestive manner.

Ichigo looked back down—Oh—his hand quickly released the man's shirt as if it had burned him, the material dropping and doing its intended job of covering washboard abs from view once more. It wasn't him; he was losing it. He had just molested a stranger in a dance club and had said some very odd things to him to top it off. A very attractive stranger at that.

He took a step back, a hand running up to rub at the back of his neck, heat having rushed to the surface as embarrassment finally settled in comfortably, clearly thinking its stay would be substantial. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm so sorry about that. I thought you were someone else," he stammered, looking away.

"I'll tell you what... I'll let it slide - on one condition." Ichigo looked back up. "Since you're clearly not a dancer, have a drink with me."

"So how many blue-haired guys do you know?"

Ichigo took the offered glass from the man standing before him, his fingers brushing his and making him regret his actions even further as his pulse began to pound in earnest at the simple touch. Why did he even want to talk to him after all that? He shook his head. "Only one," he said, leaning in slightly to make his voice heard over the loud music.

The man nodded and took a drink, raising his eyebrows in expectation until Ichigo mimicked him, taking a sip of his own. "You two have a thing?"

Brown eyes widened. "Hell no! I - I mean. No." He frowned and cursed himself as the man chuckled beside him for the umpteenth time that night. It was official, he was a spaz. Ichigo Kurosaki: spaz extraordinaire. He looked down into his drink forlornly.

"Sorry. I just figured since you said you'd been dreaming about him and then the shirt..."

Ichigo resisted facepalming. It just got worse. He looked up at the guy, surprised to find familiar-looking blue tattoo markings edging his eyes. Had those been there before? "What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," the man said matter-of-factly and then shifted closer, setting his mostly-full drink on the bar as his other hand reached out to rest on Ichigo's side. He grasped tightly, eliciting a hitched breath from surprised lips, his other hand finding the opposite side. "I haven't seen you here before, I'd remember."

Ichigo shook his head, trying to clear his mind as his body responded far too eagerly to the resting hands. He forced out a response. "I've never been here before, this isn't really my thing."

"I would have never guessed," he said, a crooked smile making itself known as he looked down at Ichigo and pulled him closer until their chests were just touching, his pupils almost taking over the blue of his eyes as he continued in a deep silky voice, "Why don't we get out of here then."

"Yeah?" Ichigo asked, his voice suddenly rough and breathing uneven as his mind struggled to retain normal functioning. He couldn't just leave with him. He didn't even know the guy's name or how old he was for that matter, he clearly was a few years older than him - at least.

"Yeah."

Thumbs hooked under the hem of his white shirt and began to rub gently across the skin right above his pants line, leaving trails of blazing heat in their wake that sunk in before traveling in a southwardly direction. Fuck. He would get more details later. He found himself nodding. "What'd you have in mind?"

A smile slowly crept up the corners of the tall man's lips, a gleam in his eye as he leaned down to whisper softly in Ichigo's ear.