Title: Bamboo Dragon
Author: Ugly.Beautiful
Genre: Romance / Humor
Rating: M
Pairing: Ichigo x Ikkaku
Spoilers: None, at the moment
Summary: After a night they can't remember, comes a day they'll never forget.
Word Count: 2,476
Warnings: Yaoi. That's right. Two hot guys getting it on. And language.
Disclaimer: The summary is from Dude, Where's My Car? Which, clearly, is not mine. Bleach is also… not mine.
A/N: Am I really the first person to write this pairing?! But… it's so hot! How can there not be more?! :cries:
9:35 AM:
It was nearly thirty minutes later that saw the pair of them across Ikkaku's small living room from one another, chest's heaving, and Ichigo's eyes zoomed in on Ikkaku's ass.
………
Let's backtrack, shall we?
-
Normally, it would have taken him ten minutes (tops) to get ready, but after literally dragging a still soapy (and naked, his brain added) Ichigo from his shower, Ikkaku had spent twenty minutes furiously scrubbing himself with scalding water hard enough to leave marks.
Only when the water turned completely frigid, did he finally drag himself from the shower and in front of the fogy mirror. Wiping the sheen of water off the glass, he stared at his reflection. The brightly colored ink running down half of his face from whatever had been painted there. If he tilted his head just right, he could see more ink running down the back of his head. The whole right side of his face had started to darken into a nicely-colored purple bruise about the time he forced himself out of bed and now he wondered who the hell had hit him. And a mark, looking suspiciously like a hickey, red and mouth-shaped, on his collarbone.
Ikkaku poked at the mark with a frown. "Fuck my life…"
Though, he was doing a pretty good job of ignoring everything. Him? Sleep with Ichigo? Him? Have drunken (rough), manly sex? With Ichigo? Nope, never happened, lalala… Except, his ass still hurt, and even if it didn't, the bruises on his hips were in the exact shape of Ichigo's sword-calloused hands. Oh fuck it all!
Glaring towards the door when Ichigo shouted something about braids in his hair, he picked up a washcloth and started to scrub the paint off his face.
Ikkaku jerked when the boy banged on the bathroom door. "I've got scratches on my shoulders so deep they're bleeding, you ass!"
"Well you left your damn handprints on my hips! So fudge off, you fuck!"
He heard Ichigo huff and stomp away from the door, and didn't look away from his task again until the boy gave a undignified yelp. "Why the fuck is the Eleventh Division logo tattooed on my ankle?!"
Ikkaku froze from where he was trying to wash the back of his head off, and felt his heart stutter in fear. Dropping the towel, he glanced down and gave himself a once-over. It was easy, since he hadn't gotten dressed yet, and he soon sighed in relief when he saw no new marks adorning his skin. Resting his hands on his hips, he grinned at his reflection. "At least I-" That's about when his hand slid over the (normally) smooth skin of his right ass cheek and felt the slightly raised skin there. And he felt all the blood drain from his face. "Oh, please, give me cancer now…"
Spinning around so his back faced the mirror, he glanced over his shoulder, and really wished he was feminine enough to cry. And now Ikkaku could probably say to most people that yes, his life sucked. Because that was just… I mean… why would he…
He froze, fingers running over the new mark, and frowned. "I am going to kill that asshole." Grabbing his hakama he yanked them on as he marched to the bathroom door and slammed it open. He had about a ten second eyeful of Ichigo wearing only pants (were those a pair of Ikkaku's pants?) hoping up and down with his right ankle in his hands trying to look at his tattoo. He had about five seconds to stare quite unabashedly at Ichigo's back, since there was a recently healed scar running diagonally halfway across it, and Ikkaku didn't remember him having it before yesterday. And then Ikkaku was next the to boy and he grabbed his shoulder and spun him around so hard the boy squawked and toppled to the ground.
"What the f-"
"Why the hell does my ass," Ikkaku snarled, spinning sideways just enough so he could pull his pants down a few inches while still glaring at Ichigo, "have a tattoo of a fucking strawberry on it!"
Ichigo's eyes went wide, staring at the life-size strawberry stamped eternally onto his friend's (really tan, his brain chimed) posterior. "I-"
"This is here forever," Ikkaku hissed.
"Hey!" Ichigo cried indignantly. "You think I like having your Division's stamp permanently on my leg?!" He kicked his leg out, forcing Ikkaku to catch it automatically.
The bald man glanced down, glanced briefly at the Eleventh Division symbol, just like on the back of Zaraki-taicho's captain haori, before dropping the foot quickly. He did not need to know how soft the skin of Ichigo's ankles were. Wasn't the situation humiliation enough?!
The two stared at each other silently for a long moment, both frowning harshly.
"Let's split up."
Ikkaku titled his head to the side as he scoffed. "Don't you mean break up?"
"Ugh, no you dumbass. Split up. Like I'll go see if anyone knows what we did and you go see if anyone knows what we did." Ichigo stood, staring at Ikkaku like he was retarded. "Duh," he added as afterthought. Turning to presumably go and find a shirt, he called over his shoulder, "Besides, we're not dating you ass."
And Ikkaku really wished he'd just died from alcohol poisoning.
-
10:00AM:
Ichigo had wandered around for a while, before realizing that anyone he'd probably been with last night was probably doing exactly what he wanted to do. Sleeping off the hangover from hell. Though the shower, however brief it was, did clear his head a little. But he did a one-eighty and headed towards the quarters Ishida had been given for his stay. Ishida never drank. He was probably reading. Or sewing.
But before he could there, he ran into someone who might (hey, miracles happened) be just as helpful. Though, judging by the completely trashed look on his friend's face (kind of disoriented, like he was stoned, or had just been visited by God and wasn't sure what was going on), Renji would not be much use. Ichigo decided to try anyway.
"Uhhh… Renji…?" Ichigo said hesitantly. The poor redhead looked like Ichigo felt. And looked like he'd have some pretty interesting stories about the night before if he could remember what the hell had happened. His normally fairly neat hair was everywhere and Ichigo was no stylist, but (besides looking as though Renji hadn't brushed it in a good while) it looked like someone had definitely dyed black streaks into the mess. And he pretty much just looked like he'd been gang-banged. Bruises all over, a black eye, a bandage over his nose, and a limp to his step.
The lieutenant turned at the sound of his friend's voice, and Renji's eyes perked up. "Hey, Ichigo," he purred, eyes shining with mischief.
Ignoring it for now (and forever if he could, because he really did not want to know), the substitute shinigami gestured wordlessly at his friend. "Dude, what the hell happened to you?"
"Hm?" He glanced down at himself, and then his eyes went all dreamy and star-struck. In fact, Ichigo could literally see stars shining in his eyes and he took a step back, terrified. "Kuchiki-taicho put me in my place."
Ichigo curled back his upper lip in confusion. "So… you sparred with Byakuya?"
Renji shook his head, still wearing that sickly sweet smile. "Nuh-uh… well, earlier, but…" He stared at Ichigo seriously. "Kuchiki-taicho has very talented hands."
That was when he got it. "Okay, so that's too much information, but thank-you." He stared at his friend for a moment longer. "What the hell happened to your nose? Byakuya do that, too?"
The redhead reached up to rub absently at the bandage, shaking his head. "You don't remember?" Ichigo shook his head. "Uh… a dog bit me."
Ichigo blinked. "A dog?"
"Look, can we move on?! So…." He leered. "What happened with you and Ikkaku last night, huh?" He tried to wiggly his eyebrows suggestively, but since his eyebrows were tattooed on it kind of made it look like there were caterpillars jerking around on his forehead.
He shrugged. "I'm working on remembering. Wanna help?"
It was Renji's turn to blink. "You don't… remember? But…" His eyes trailed down to stare at Ichigo's ankle, covered with his sock.
"Yeah, I found that his morning. I wanna know why I have it and why Ikkaku… uhhh…"
"Has a strawberry on his ass?" Renji finished. When Ichigo nodded, the lieutenant grinned. "How'd you find that out? You wake up together? Oooohhhh… You did! Did you- Ow!" He yelped when Ichigo, blushing and glaring, smacked him upside the head. "Okay, okay! Um… you must of woken up with a hell of a hangover. I know I did. Try thinkin' now, when you're… less hung-over…"
Ichigo sighed and thought back.
"Let's get our drink on!"
Izuru dancing.
Someone screaming, "Take your shirt off!" "Kiss him again!"
Yumichika smiling with wicked glee.
Renji's hysterical screaming. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
A fight. He hurt. Someone was crying. He was kissing someone. Laughing.
"Yes… mm… harder… please…"
Ichigo's eyes snapped open, face as red as Renji's hair. "I don't think this is working."
Renji shrugged. "Sorry dude, my memory's in patches, so I can't fill in all your… whatever's." He was quiet for a second and they stared at each other. "… Wanna go retrace your steps?"
Ichigo nodded. "Sounds good."
-
10:00AM (Elsewhere)
He wasn't entirely sure what happened, one second he was angrily stomping his way out of the Eleventh Division, since Yumichika was no where to be found, the next second someone had squealed and tackled him to the ground.
"Fucking hell!" He growled, flipping over and ready to kick someone's ass. "Who the hell-" He blinked. "…Matsumoto?"
The woman looked… fine. What the hell?! No hangover?! No nothing?! And… her….
"What the hell did you do to your hair?"
"Hm?" She leaned back so he could sit up, lightly touching her hair. "You don't like it?" She pouted.
He merely raised an eyebrow, staring at the dozens and dozens of braids now adorning her head. "… Whatever." He huffed, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to look at her when he spoke. "I need your help."
He eyes went wide, shining with her 'I-smell-juicy-gossip-shine.' "Oooohhhh…" She grinned. "Wanna go get a drink?"
He stared at her, incredulous. "Matsumoto. It's ten o'clock in the morning."
Her grin widened as she yanked him to his feet. "It's five o'clock somewhere!" His protests fell on deaf ears as she dragged him through Seireitei. "I knew this would happen! It's so cute! Ichigo-kun-"
At that, Ikkaku finally dug his heels in and forced her to stop. "Ichigo?! What the hell do you think I need from you?!"
"Uh… advice?"
"Uh, no. Actually, hell no. I need to know what the fuck I drank last night. I can't remember shit."
"You don't remember anything?"
He paused and thought back really hard.
People drinking. People that didn't normally drink drinking.
"And you're attractive…"
Something hard, and heavy, slamming into the side of his head.
Fire. Everyone scattering, running.
Singing. Flowers. Dancing.
Aizen.
"Mm… want you… want you so bad…"
He blanched. Let's not think about that shall we? As for the other memories… "… Did someone light a five-year-old on fire?" He asked, vaguely remembered that scenario, but hoping it was merely a remnant of a strange dream.
"It was an accident," Matsumoto said dismissively. "And he's fine."
"…… I really need to figure out what I did." Fuck. Those memories didn't make any sense unless he could string them together. Which he couldn't. Damn it all! "Ugh!" He was saved from spiraling into a complete and utter tantrum when someone called his name. The sight that greeted him when he turned was… amusing, to say the least. Ichigo jogging towards him, followed by Renji, bandaged, streaks in his chaotic hair, and limping in a way that Ikkaku completely empathized with.
"You figure anything out?"
He glared at Ichigo. "No. I've got like ten new questions and no goddamn answers!"
A sigh. "Ditto that." Another sigh. "Fucking hell," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Renji said I should retrace my steps." He glanced at the redhead out of the corner of his eye. He still looked kind of dazed. "His memory's splotchy, too." He looked back at Ikkaku. "Wanna come?"
Ikkaku huffed. Did he even have a fucking choice? "The last thing I remember was going to your house."
He nodded. "Let's start there, then."
The bald shinigami huffed and started to follow the boy. Maybe he could just pretend that none of this had ever happened. And that the brief memory of Ichigo's growling voice moaning that he wanted him didn't make him feel a little happy in the pants. Nope.
……
"Hey, move your ass, stupid!"
He frowned. Denial, thy name is Ikkaku…
A/N: Poor boys. All of them. Even Renji. How I torture him. You'll figure out why Ichigo isn't so shocked about this development later. Mwhahaha! Also, I think that's the last yaoi pairing for the story. Unless you have one you really, really like, and beg really sweetly… and I don't already have them paired with someone. Cuz if I do, sorry, maybe next time, ne?
Count the Pop Culture references!
The ones I distinctly remember putting in, like knowing it was from something) are:
1. Something from a country song
2. Something from my favorite comedian, that people may not catch
3. A line from a Disney (or Pixar? It's animated, anyway) movie
Cyber cookies and shout outs to people who find some! They'll be more as things do on.
Also, I realize that 1. Tattoos don't feel any different from your regular skin. I've got two, and if I didn't know they were there, I wouldn't be able to feel them. And 2. Yes, the first twelve or so hours after you get a tattoo it's covered. Soul Society has healers, okay? We'll just pretend, and I'll mention later, about it all. We're figuring things out at the same pace as the boys. It's more fun that way don't you think?
Reviews R Much Love!
