A/N: I think I have found a way to combine both the sweeter, quieter ending with the BAMF!Byakuya ending for two great tastes that taste great together. Because I am indecisive and also didn't want to throw out 6,000 words of Byakuya being an a$$hole. I love when he's an a$$hole. I think I might also have issues.

Thank you to all reviewers for your kind compliments and feedback! I want this baby complete by the time NaNoWriMo starts, and there are AT LEAST another 10 chapters to go, so I need you to help me keep this momentum going!

I have at least 3 (very important! like the MOST important!) chapters that aren't written even a little tiny bit and will take LOTS OF WORK so please do keep the reviews coming, as they inspire me and make me carve time out of my day to write even when I'm tired.

Orihime's theme this chapter is the song "Can't Stop" by Mozella, especially the lyrics: "You have everything I could ever want/You speak to my soul like you've known it before/And I just can't stop myself".

If you are one of the sad, unfortunate, deprived souls who has never heard the song "It's Raining Men" (or worse, you've been denied the glory that is its video) then you HAVE to go watch it on YouTube RIGHT NOW OMG. It is the craziest, most cracked-out song ever, and you will LOL like you've never LOL'd before. HALLELUIAH!

Become A Ghost

Chapter 20

by HardlyFatal

Byakuya was glad he had insisted Orihime eat dinner before the party, because in spite of the tables overflowing with food and the seemingly thousands of sake bottles available, Orihime did not partake in any of it because she never stopped dancing. She danced with almost every man present, and most of the women, too.

She performed a bizarre flamenco with Kyouraku, and even let Zaraki take her for a literal whirl around the dance floor (he hoisted her up to his eye level with the iron band he called an arm, grabbed her hand and stuck it straight out from their bodies, and whipped them around with abandon. Orihime just laughed helplessly, head thrown back and hair flying out in a long wave).

She managed to coax Hitsugaya to dance with her to something slower, and Byakuya had to commend the boy- his intense green gaze had not left the girl's face even once. Perhaps having Matsumoto as his lieutenant had given him some important skills in how to comport one's self in this department.

Orihime danced with Renji, Hisagi, Ikkaku, Kira, and Iba, all of whom appeared like they were starving to death every time they looked at her. She danced a slow song with Yumichika, snuggled in so close that if Byakuya hadn't harbored doubts about that man's preferences, he'd have marched over and snatched her away.

She danced with every member of the Women's Association at the same time to a crazy-sounding song called "It's Raining Men"; the inclusion of the two female captains had a thousand male eyebrows raising. Orihime even danced with the less attractive shinigami like Second Division's Omaeda. She looked like she was in her element, like she'd been born for this night.

Byakuya, for his part, had been drinking steadily all evening. Hitsugaya was by this late hour slumped, almost unconscious, against the wall. Ukitake was still flushed, this time with inebriation, and sat there with his eyes closed and a silly smile on his lips. Soi-Fong had had enough that she, too, was smiling foolishly, her eyes bright as she scanned the crowd. Komamura was nodding off into his saucer. Unohana was pouring sake straight down her throat and complimenting everyone who came within two meters of the veranda.

Kyouraku had left off dancing and was conferring at great length with Zaraki over whether taste or alcoholic content was the more important characteristic of a quality alcoholic beverage. Byakuya was surprised to hear that Zaraki was a proponent of of quality over impact.

"If it tastes like shit, why drink it?" was his opinion. Byakuya agreed completely, but would have died before expressing that aloud.

Orihime wove through the crowd toward them, giggling as she was jostled back and forth by the dancing bodies. "I think I danced with everyone here!" she announced. Her cheeks were bright pink, and when she waggled her hand at Komamura in a wordless entreaty to help her onto the veranda, Byakuya realized that somewhere along the way, she had managed to enjoy an alcoholic beverage. Or several.

Or many, he amended when she flopped onto her back in front of him. Her manners and anxiety to not offend usually combined to prevent her from the most egregious of faux pas, and her usual expression when in the company of a captain was wide-eyed apprehension. Around multiple captains, she was customarily stricken dumb. He peered closer; she must have been hammered to be this relaxed around him and six captains.

"The lyrics to these songs are filthy," he informed her.

"Of course they are," she agreed happily. "They don't call it booty music for nothing."

Ugh,Byakuya thought. Still, even he had to admit to himself that the beat had his blood itching for movement of some sort. Not that he'd indulge.

"Hey, Byakuya-sama," she said, turning her head to gaze at him and giggling, "I've had three marriage proposals tonight."

"Ridiculous." Her skimpy garment was just not up to the task of containing its bounty, and not only was a smooth expanse of belly visible at the bottom, but the plump curves at the sides of her breasts were exposed. Her skin glowed in the torchlight. Her profile was excruciatingly pretty, the soft peaks and valleys of her mouth pure temptation in the moonlight.

"Isn't it?" Her eyes closed, and a blissful smile curved her lips.

Byakuya emptied the closest bottle of sake into his saucer and scanned the nearby nure'en for another. He noted that Komamura appeared to be trying to hide a bottle in the folds of his captain's haori. Tricky dog.

"I do not even know how I'm going to walk home tonight," she continued. "Byakuya-sama, as drunk as you are, can you flash-step us back? Or will we crash into a roof and die?"

"I am not drunk," he replied with considerable dignity, then hiccupped. It dispelled the dignity a bit. "A Kuchiki is never drunk in public."

"This is a private party," Kyouraku interjected from his end of the veranda, somewhat untruthfully. "Invitation-only. Very exclusive."

"In that case," said Byakuya, holding out his saucer to Komamura for a refill, "kanpai!"

"Kanpai!" cried the other captains. The toast was overheard by those shinigami closest to them, who repeated it. Then the shinigami closest to them repeated it, and so on, until the entire assemblage was bawling it to the heavens. Something hit Byakuya's foot, and he looked down to find Orihime with arms outflung, laughing in abandon.

She turned her head to him again, eyes starry, and said, "I love you, Byakuya."

Byakuya's breath went out with a wheeze. Her eyes widened, as if she'd realized with a certain amount of horror what she'd said, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a a few seconds before she tore her gaze away to regard the gentleman beside him, and continued, "I love you too, Komamura-taichou. You have such handsome fur!"

Komamura stroked his chin, looking pleased. Byakuya, on the other hand, was trying to get his heart beating again; that had been, to his memory, the first time anyone had ever said that to him. He hadn't realized how parched his soul must have been, to drink it up with such eager thirst. And to have Orihime be the one to say it, she from whom he had wanted to hear it... longing lanced through his chest to his belly, and triumph.

...except that now she was going through the entire contingent of captains on the nure'en, explaining how she loved all of them, too.

To Hitsugaya: "I also love you, Toushirou-kun! You're adorable! Which means I adore you!" More gurgling.

To Zaraki: "Zaraki-taichou, you're such a good father! I love you as well!"

To Ukitake: "I love you, Ukitake-taichou! You would be a wonderful father too, if only you had children! So go have some right away, hey, taichou?"

To Unohana: "That braid. I love you, Unohana-taichou."

To Kyouraku: "Kyouraku-taichou, I love you, so you better stop sexually harassing Nanao-san." To show she was in earnest, Orihime rolled to her belly and peered at him. The pert rounds of her jeans-clad bottom drew Byakuya's gaze like a moth to two particularly well-shaped flames. "If you don't, I worry that she'll have you killed. And since I love you, I don't want that to happen. So maybe take a class and learn how to keep your hands to yourself, okay?"

To Soi-Fong: "I don't think I love you, Soi-Fong-taichou, but I am scared of you." (Soi-Fong's reply: "Good.")

It was definitely time to leave. He sighed into his saucer; it seemed that he was just the first to be addressed in an incoherent stream of too-friendly nonsense. Byakuya nudged Orihime with his foot. "Put your jacket on. We're going home."

"Okay!" It appeared that Orihime was a very agreeable drunk, in addition to being an affectionate one. She waggled her fingers at Komamura again, and he helped her sit up, then don the jacket. Once she'd managed to get her legs over the edge of the nure'en and her feet on the ground, she was rather steady. Byakuya descended the stairs with the studied composure of the soused, and led her around the edge of the crowd toward the gate. He prayed that no one saw them leaving, because then they'd never be able to get out of the party, for all the protracted farewells, entreaties to stay, and pleas for one last dance that would turn into a dozen or more.

Once they'd made it outside without drawing attention from the throng, they started walking. It took Byakuya at least two full minutes to recall where his home was, which necessitated a 90 degree change in direction once he had.

"It was kind of Rukia to invite me along," he told her solemnly. "I hope she does not do it again."

"Oh, you had fun," she replied, nudging his arm with her shoulder and laughing beside him. "I heard you trading insults with Zaraki-taichou. And I saw you smirking at poor li'l Toushirou-kun and Unohana-taichou."

"My hangover tomorrow will make me pray for death." He knew the servants would try to press on him the traditional Kuchiki hangover cure, but in Byakuya's experience, the traditional Kuchiki hangover cure didn't work for shit.

"No, no, no, no, no, Byakuya-sama!" Orihime protested. Her hand came up to tug at his sleeve, then curved under his elbow until they were walking arm-in-arm. "I will take care of everything, trust me! You won't even know you were this drunk tonight, when I get through with you."

"Kuchikis are never drunk in public," he reminded her. "We are in public, therefore I am not drunk." It was his own particular brand of logic, and he was sticking to it. But he was intrigued in spite of himself. "What are you going to do to me?" It sounded both alarming and titillating at the same time.

"Well, when we get home, I'll make you drink plenty of nice cold water," Orihime began with relish. "Then I'll make you take several willow bark tablets. That's what they make aspirin from, in the living world. Drinking so much water will make you wake several times in the night to use the bathroom, and each time you wake, I'll make you drink more water. Then in the morning, I'll make you go soak in the onsen and sweat out the last of the alcohol."

She beamed up at him, hugging his arm to her bosom. "It's foolproof! Never fails!" She pumped a tiny fist in the air before adding with significant gravitas, "Trust me, I'm a doctor!"

"There seems to be a lot of you making me do things," he commented, choosing to ignore his misgivings about such a flighty creature being in a position of power over life and death. "How realistic do you think that is?"

That gave her pause. "Hm, not very, if you put it that way. But, Byakuya-sama," and here she gazed up at him with huge eyes glimmering silver in the moonlight, "why wouldn't you want to do what I tell you, if it meant you'd feel better? I promise I will always take very good care of you."

Oh, hell. Those eyes could melt a steel-hearted demon. Her breasts were cradling his entire arm from elbow to shoulder. Could she truly be this naive and unaware of what she did to a man? If it hadn't felt so very enjoyable, and Byakuya weren't so very drunk, he'd have put her away from him and flash-stepped home. At the same time, he felt a scorching impulse to tug her into a dark alley and ravish her against a wall.

As it was, he just sighed and concentrated on putting one foot after the other in the general direction of the Kuchiki compound.

It was actually a beautiful night, the weather cooperating nicely, with a warm breeze wafting in from the east. The sky overhead was devoid of clouds, with nothing to obstruct his view of the moon and stars. Not a soul was to be seen in their vicinity. The sake was thrumming nicely through his veins, and he felt relaxed and even (dare he admit it) content. Beside him, beyond the sharp alcoholic odor of the sake she'd drunk, Orihime smelled like sunshine and green, growing things. From somewhere nearby wafted the scent of night-blooming jasmine. The only sound, once they both fell silent, were their own footfalls.

Byakuya was taken by a sense of hyper-awareness, of immediacy and clarity. Time seemed to slow. He usually only experienced it in the thick of battle, and never after having imbibed. It had come about with the juncture of all five senses being pleasured at the same time.

His arm apparently decided to act on its own, and disentangled itself from Orihime's grasp, instead wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. As a testament to how closely aligned they were in that moment, she didn't gasp in surprise or pull away; instead, she slid her own arm around him in return, and leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

There, that's what had been missing; the heat of her body against his, and the clasp of her arm to let him know that he wasn't alone in that place, with the stars wheeling overhead and the jasmine thick on the air.

Orihime, too, was feeling a deep contentment that she doubted she'd ever experienced before. Her mistake at the party- damn drinking so much sake! Her impulse control was hovering around zero at this point- had her mouth speaking before her brain could filter her thoughts. Thankfully, her terror at having blabbed her feelings aloud to Byakuya had galvanized her mind into coming up with a way to cover it up, hence her witless gibbering about loving the other captains as well.

Still, Orihime was feeling somehow both heartsore and reckless at the same time. This was the last night, wasn't it? The very last night she would ever have with him. She'd kept away from him as much as possible, but the moment she'd forgotten she was avoiding him, back she flew in his direction, like a moth to a flame, or like a compass needle to due north.

She should have snuck away to get her things and move to her new quarters in the Fourth's barracks while Byakuya partied hardy with his fellow captains; she'd have been away without his knowledge, and with the hangover he was due to have, he wouldn't have noticed her absence until dinnertime. A current of self-loathing coursed through Orihime; she was such a damned coward that if she couldn't deny something, she'd avoid it.

Unless it was unavoidable, like tonight. Tonight, her friends had laid her careful plans to waste, had caught her up in their joyful commotion, and now here she was, drunk and strolling back to the Kuchiki estate, wrapped around Byakuya like she had any right to walk at his side, like she wasn't planning on breaking his heart by deserting him.

It's to protect him, she told herself, and repeated it until they turned a corner and the flickering torchlight of the estate's main entrance lit up the end of the street with a warm glow. It's to keep his heart from breaking even more from shame and humiliation.

"It would appear the night is over," Byakuya murmured.

They were still several blocks away; they were no more than shifting shadows at the end of the elegant, tree-lined avenue. That recklessness rose up like a tide within Orihime, along with desperation to extend these last few moments, and she stopped, staring up into his beloved face for a long, quiet moment.

"It doesn't have to be," she replied at last, and flash-stepped them from the street.

They alit on the gentle hill of the clearing at the center of The Thicket. It was the highest point of the entire estate, and Byakuya had spent many hours in his long-ago youth reclining on its slope, watching clouds and stars pass by as he dreamed of his future, of the glorious battles he'd fight, of the monstrous enemies he'd defeat, of the beautiful maidens he'd rescue and woo.

...that last one, he was dismayed to admit to himself, had not gone so well.

His attempts at wooing consisted of two: his clear-cut courting of Hisana, who had acquiesced to his attentions to save herself from a life of destitution, and now his uncertain overtures with Orihime. Surely things were progressing, were they not? Their kisses in the Living World seemed to have gone well; from his perspective, they had been almost revelatory in showing him what pleasure could be had when desire was reciprocated, and how hollow his relations with Hisana had been: all compliance and gratitude on her part, all unrequited fervor on his.

Orihime had kissed him back with all the fire in her enormous, passionate heart, and it had made every difference in the world.

Byakuya was not ignorant of how romantic a setting this was. He felt a deep hope that it was about to inspire her to greater exploration of what they had begun in that park in Karakura Town. The prospect of being able to kiss her again, to taste the sake in her mouth and feel her body against his, had his pulse speeding as he turned to her, an inquiring brow raised.

"It's such a lovely night," she said, sounding a little uncertain. "Would- would you watch the stars with me?"

Watch them? He'd catch them, give them to her on a bed of velvet if she asked so sweetly.

"Yes," was all he was able to say in response. Not for the first time, Byakuya rued his natural reticence and wished he could bring himself to speak of the poetry that seemed to overflow his veins whenever she was with him.

Instead of standing, necks craned to the sky, Orihime surprised him by seating herself on the lush grass, tossing a glance back up at him that seemed more than a little flirty. Byakuya hastened to sit at her side, far closer than necessary or even appropriate, close enough even to feel the heat of her body. He had just turned his eyes heavenward when he felt a little weight on his shoulder; Orihime was resting her head there, her hair soft against his neck as she let out a quiet, content sigh.

Byakuya felt the shock and the joy of it to his toes. Again, he wound an arm around her waist, pulled her closer, tucking her securely against him. She curled up her legs until they were almost tucked in his lap. His other arm, free, empty, felt restless, like it had some important job it was shirking, and its fingers twitched from frustrated longing to touch her. A quick glance down told him she had her eyes closed, and her face was the very image of bliss.

"You're not looking at the stars," he murmured.

Her eyes flew open and her lips parted, as if in surprise, as if to speak, but their faces were so close, so close, and Byakuya didn't remember moving, and then his mouth was on hers. His free hand finally found a task by coming around to cup her cheek, to thread his fingers into her hair, to stroke down the shell of her ear as they kissed.

When he lifted his lips from hers, Orihime's eyes were shining and she smiled, that smile of gladness and welcome that made him think of cozy rooms with fireplaces and steaming cups of tea, make him think of safe returns and a full belly, made him think of home.

She was home to him. Orihime was his home.

"I l- " he began, needing to say it. He needed her to know.

But she kissed him again, with enough passion that his head was spinning by the time she pulled away from far more than just the very considerable amount of sake he'd drunk.

"You're not looking at the stars," she teased, tossing his own words back at him, and gently tugged herself free of his embrace to lay back on the ground.

He stared down at her for what felt like seconds, or an hour; her hair spread out around her on the grass like a ruddy starburst. Her eyes, as she looked back at him, were calm, but a little sad. The grass was cool and a little damp, and he didn't care, laying back with his eyes fixed on the heavens.

Orihime reposed beside him, arms folded across her waist. Byakuya turned his head to the side and studied her, saw how her eyes reflected the moon, and let his arms fall loose at his side. She relaxed her own, and their hands touched, parted, then touched again, fingers twining. Slowly, she tilted her head until it rested against his shoulder once more.

He felt, rather than saw, her shiver, so he released her hand and slid his arm beneath her, drawing her close until she lay against him, protected by his body from the chill of the ground. Her hair spilled around them, pooling on his chest as she tucked her face against his neck, lips just touching his throat. Byakuya folded both arms around her and was surprised at the force of the joy that rocked through him. He rode it like a wave, hands smoothing over Orihime's back in an endless caress as he brushed his lips over her hair and touched them to her forehead over and over.

Byakuya blinked, dreamily watching the sky course above. He felt like he held the world in his hands, like he sat at the edge of a calm ocean, like he'd fallen into the heart of a flame. He closed his eyes, and let the world slide away.