A/N: Thank you all for your patience and understanding. Again I must apologise for the crazy lengthy delay — it won't be an annual update! Work has been insane and I recently had a change of environment, which means…free time at long last. I've been fine, just a bit tired, and I really want to thank all you sweetie pies who have reached out to me and for keeping tabs on this story despite the super infrequent updates. I hope the long wait (and new chapter) doesn't disappoint! I've recently caught up with Bleach after all this while, and the fact that a certain Espada has returned (could return) to the current arc gave me greater motivation to complete this long overdue fic.

[Edit on 13 Feb 2017: For a while I've felt that the last part of this chapter is too out of place, so I rewrote the last section without major implications to the following chapter. I'll be rewriting Chapter 29 as well to make the story flow better, before uploading new chapters. Thank you for reading!]

Disclaimer: The standard applies.

Chapter 28 - Jitterbug

Ichigo hadn't expected himself to let go, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. Holding his raven-haired co-star in his arms, letting his fingertips skirt along the defined contours of the other man's face; their lips, oh their lips, pushing ever so dangerously against each other, as if daring the other to break the boundaries of reality, as if they had a point to prove.

Don't you dare wake up from this, their actions seemed to suggest.

The heat bubbling so long underneath the two men's skins started to boil, desperately waiting for this moment to break through the surface. People usually ham up once a camera is shoved in front of their faces, but for the two men currently under the spotlight, they sought refuge in the warm gaze of multiple cameras, free to be themselves and not fear judgment of any sort. They could love each other with everything they had. Onscreen, that is. The two men, in the guise of their characters, could very well be oblivious to what they really looked like in the eyes of others. Those pairs of eyes, belonging to movie professionals and amateurs circling the film set, as well as a certain Inoue Orihime's, were transfixed by what was unfolding before them. Barely three months ago, the same scene was filmed and it had been a complete wreck, threatening to tear the production apart. Now, those same pairs of eyes had to avert their gaze from the scene before them that threatened to escalate temperatures in the room. They felt like voyeurs, prying into the recesses of man's deepest desires. Orihime started to wish that she had left the studio when asked by Soi Fon earlier, but no, the popular model made a U-turn before she stepped out of the production facility, choosing to stay back and watch her 'boyfriend' film one of his last scenes with his co-star. For once she could see how he looked like when in love.

Orihime had expected to feel marginally uncomfortable at the level of contact on display; it was after all a lovemaking scene, but she definitely wasn't expecting this. Seeing her pretend boyfriend and the man of her dreams being overwhelmed by another, his body flowing to said person's caresses, eyes closed in a twisted flux of imagination and desire, sent a chill running down her spine. Orihime tried to look away at one point but her gaze was met with piercing green orbs that implored attention at once. She gulped as Ulquiorra held their eye contact while he slowly kissed Ichigo's neck, running his tongue along the exposed flesh then gently nipped at the bare skin with his lips, before cutting her off by pressing Ichigo against himself, eliciting a surprised moan from the carrot top. The model was taken aback by the ferocity of the raven haired actor's glare. They barely knew each other, so why did the normally dispassionate man looked at her as if he wanted to tear into her chest and rip out her heart altogether?

And then, slowly piecing the puzzle together, Orihime finally understood.

Elsewhere, in the other part of the studio, a reddened Hiyori whispered to her director, "Should we yell cut already? I'm really really really sure that wasn't in the script!"

Shinji clamped a hand over Hiyori's mouth and continued to watch the scene with great interest, his eyes widening with every turn. "This is some serious movie voodoo going on." He motioned for the cameramen to keep rolling. He sure as hell was going to keep this scene in the final cut. "I've been waiting so long for this! My dear Hiyori-chan, there's something you need to know, if you want to make the step up in producing." Shinji peered askance at his sullen assistant, who was trying to slap his hand away. "You gotta learn this — knowing when to capture that exact moment when true passion explodes on the reel. Once it comes you can't stop it, and trust me, there's nothing quite as splendid as catching the full spectrum of human intensity on film reels."

Hiyori folded her arms and said nothing. Shinji grinned in response to his silent victory, his hand still clamped over her mouth.

Kurosaki Ichigo had never been more pleased in his life to hear the movie clapper snap, breaking the silence that had engulfed the studio since they started filming. He needed noises, background blabbing, anything but the sound of his own mind, to clear his thoughts. Ichigo's breath ran ragged from a marathon make-out session with his co-star in front of countless pairs of eyes, and he could feel his body shuddering from unwanted thoughts that must had crept into his subconscious when filming. Sure enough both men were in character the whole time, but the bodies responding eagerly to each other's touches were theirs — no way in hell could Ichigo deny that. The sensations he felt were too real to be feigned, or, knowing how obsessively methodical Ulquiorra Schiffer could get over acting, they were deliberately feigned to look real.

Gingerly, Ichigo raised a finger to his lips, still trembling slightly from the bruising kiss earlier. No wait, it wasn't even kissing anymore. The carrot top felt as though his lips were slammed against and ravaged again and again, devoured by a man hungry for his taste. He had never been kissed like that before, and it left him wanting more. And then there was that…if Ichigo wasn't imagining things, a split-second where his co-star's soft tongue flicked across his neck…

Ichigo felt his face threaten to explode and gave himself a few slaps. That bloody gutter of a mind would be the absolute death of him someday.

Now that he was no longer enveloped in Ulquiorra's embrace, he could steady his nerves, exhale, and leave this set in one piece. There were still scenes needing to be filmed, and yes—that must be it. He was in character; he had to stay in the skin of the other. He must not slip up. No, not now. Kurosaki Ichigo was Murakami Yoshihito, the idealistic young samurai in love with his best friend, who just happened to look like Ulquiorra Schiffer.

"Whoa there," Shinji called as he approached Ichigo. "Trying to hit the bedevils out of your head? Can't afford you turning amnesiac before we wrap up filming. Kuchiki-san will absolutely have my neck on the guillotine."

Ichigo immediately placed both offending hands under the crooks of his knees, alarmed that he had been caught acting stupidly on the set. "N-Nothing of that sort, Blondie!"

Shinji smirked. "Great job just now," he said after a while.

"I'm just glad it didn't suck," Ichigo puffed.

"I knew you had it in you, Vampy Boy. That was quite the…" Shinji's smirk grew wider as he watched Ichigo fidget under his scrutiny. "Eyeopener."

Knowing the orange-haired man, his words were of course met with vehement denial.

"Oi, crazy blondie, don't exaggerate! It's just another scene!" Ichigo prattled on and on, the flush never leaving his cheeks. "Just. Another. Scene!" He repeated for emphasis. "We're filming the next one in an hour's time, yeah? So don't get too excited just yet!"

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that," the blonde director murmured under his breath.

Ichigo's head snapped up. "What?"

"Nothin'."

Forgetting that the blonde director was standing next to him, Ichigo unwittingly turned his gaze to his co-star, watching intently as two on-set stylists removed the wig from Ulquiorra's head, shaking free those silky raven tresses, then massaged some treatment oil into them before wrapping his hair lightly in a towel. Ulquiorra had his eyes closed the whole time. Then and there, the infamous pinkish plumes loomed into sight once more, surrounding a certain green-eyed actor as he dabbed at his mouth with tissue while the stylists tended to him. Ichigo's heart thumped million miles a minute just by sneaking glances at Ulquiorra. The green eyed actor's lips were red as a freshly plucked tomato and his cheeks, just a dash of scarlet. Would the man blush deeper if Ichigo were to walk up and snog him to the end of the world—

WAIT.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Shinji's voice cut into the carrot top's thoughts.

Oh shit.

"Who wouldn't want him?" Shinji again, in a sing-song tone.

Double-whammy shit.

Ichigo's heart thumped so fast, he thought it was going to burst open and there was no stopping it. He was growing more and more perturbed by the bizarre sensations plaguing him and to his chagrin, no amount of face-slapping or self-chastising could salvage his sanity anymore. Was he still in character or was he just using it as an excuse to unabashedly indulge in his co-star? And what was he thinking—especially when Ulquiorra had made very clear his views on Ichigo that chilly afternoon at the studio park?

Ichigo swallowed hard. He couldn't tell anymore.

All he knew was this: being near Ulquiorra Schiffer was dangerous and unnecessary.

Shinji Hirako swore he was talking about his new camera.

"Did I overdo it?" was the first question that came to Ulquiorra after filming paused in the late afternoon for a much needed respite. He had noticed how his younger co-star was purposely avoiding him once they were off-screen, nervously breaking into a cacophony of dry coughs and clasping of hands before scuttling away whenever Ulquiorra so far moved an inch toward him. It had been that way since the morning, after they had filmed an epic lovemaking scene, the last in the script. Ulquiorra thought their scene went well. In fact, it was much better than he had expected, and to an inadmissible extent, relishable. Yes, he might had taken advantage of Orihime's presence at the set to boost his performance, and in a moment of spite, he wanted to show her who truly possessed Kurosaki Ichigo, if only for the pithiest of moments and especially since it was one of the last scenes they would share before the camera.

What a weak victory, he thought. Weak and inconsequential.

Now that he had calmed down in his personal trailer, he was mortified at his actions. Mortified by everything that transpired in the morning: his astounding lack of self-control, his complete absence of professionalism and most of all, by Ichigo's lack of resistance towards his unwarranted advances during filming. What was the carrot top thinking when he allowed Ulquiorra to kiss him like that? Did he like it? Did he decide to put up with it because they were onset? Or did he regret it?

Ichigo's twitchy reaction post-filming had only confirmed Ulquiorra's worst fears: he had indeed gone too far.

If this continued, Ulquiorra was certain that the younger man would never talk to him again. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, and how such a probable course of action would affect him. Their last interaction was more than a week ago outside the movie studio, and as days passed, he wished he had not reacted the way he did back then. Weeks before this Ulquiorra had countlessly told himself that he didn't do regrets, but, who knew, a voice in the back of his mind was growing stronger of late. Terribly clever people sometimes do terribly stupid things, often due to ego or rampant emotions, and wind up wrecking the relationships that matter most. At this very moment there were more questions than answers, but one thing he knew for sure: he didn't want that thin thread of something he shared with Ichigo, no matter what it was or might turn out to be, to end just yet. Ulquiorra knew he needed to do something about it.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a sheet depicting the week's production schedule. Ichigo's filming schedule would end four hours after his. In other words, Ulquiorra had four hours to brace himself for something he had never done before.

Kurosaki Ichigo didn't bother stifling his lung-bursting yawns as he walked toward his silver Impreza in the basement parking lot. He had been filming for nearly sixteen hours straight! He knew he looked ridiculous when he yawned with his mouth wide open and his eyes runny with sleepy tears, but he knew there was no one left at this hour. His nose was red from the cold, his lips were cracking, and he was wearing socks with slippers. Ichigo puffed out cold air into his black scarf knitted by Yuzu, only to almost knock himself out with his own breath. Man, when was the last time he had a sip of water?

Whatever. Screw image. Screw idol status. They can all go to hell.

Then, an all-too familiar voice came from behind him.

"You're here."

Damn it! Ichigo cursed. He didn't need to turn around to see who was talking to him. It had been the longest day of his life, and the very man he'd been trying high and low to avoid chose to spring a shocker on him. And he looked like shit. That was the worst— he really looked like shit; probably smelled like one too. His last scene for the day required him to be clad in full body armour, and he had perspired a great deal in the heavy suit. So without a second thought, Ichigo casually waved a 'hey there grim reaper' and before Ulquiorra could reply, he sped toward his car, desperate to get away, hoping those footsteps behind him would stop and go away. But they didn't; the owner of those footsteps was one persistent man.

"Kurosaki," Ulquiorra said quietly. "Wait."

Ichigo retrieved his car keys from his bag and pressed. Beep! The headlights of his car flickered. Ichigo continued to walk toward his car and pulled up the scarf bundled around his neck to his nose, pretending not to hear Ulquiorra calling after him.

"I said, wait."

Ichigo continued to play deaf and made a beeline for his car. Stop following me stop following me stop following me.

But Ulquiorra was not someone to be brushed aside easily. In a few quick strides he caught up with Ichigo, and in a matter of seconds he overtook Ichigo and swiftly held his position between the car and its owner. Ulquiorra stood before the driver's door of the silver Impreza, blocking Ichigo from entry.

Ichigo exhaled sharply. "What?"

"I asked you to wait."

"I'm waiting—waiting to go home. I'm waiting to take a nice long bath and brush my teeth and eat some food and then sleep my ass off," Ichigo shot back irritably. "So what is it? What do you want?"

"You have been avoiding me."

"You are imagining things. It's been an awfully long day, go back and get some rest. I sure as hell am getting mine, so can you step out of the way?"

Ulquiorra remained unperturbed. "Were you offended by the scene this morning?"

"Offended?!" Ichigo's self-defence mechanism kicked in instantly. "Oh please. We have done that so many times, so what makes you think I'll squirm at your touch? I'm not a schoolboy!"

"I never said you were. I just thought that you were uncomfortable with what I did. After all, it was something we did not do before and I had not sought your prior consent."

Ichigo took the chance to back away from Ulquiorra. Not once had he met Ulquiorra's eyes, but that didn't stop those retarded pink plumes from creeping into his vision. Ichigo was sorely tempted to pull up his scarf all the way to the top of his head and disappear right away.

"Whatever's done is done. It's all for the movie anyway. No big deal."

"Then why did you avoid me?"

"Hey, look who's talking." If anything, you're the one who's been ignoring me.

"I did not mean to go that far. If I made you uncomfortable in any way, I…"

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, willing his thoughts to go away. Unbecoming thoughts that threatened to embarrass him in front of a man who could compartmentalize his emotions, that is, if he had any.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter. Weren't you the one who said that a sex scene is just like a well-constructed action sequence?"

"Like an action scene where you are not supposed to really hit your sparring partner, there are also boundaries in a lovemaking sequence."

Ichigo pulled down his scarf in frustration, temporarily forgetting the cold.

"OK, fine. Why are you so damn proper about these things? Can't you just leave it at 'Oh god I really love this man and I'm going to die soon so I'll just have one final hurrah with him?' Can't you just accept that I also played a man who loves that dying idiot and doesn't mind whatever he's doing to his body, since in the end everyone dies anyway? So what if you got more physical with me on the set? Am I so weak that a little bit of intimacy will kill me? Don't get too ahead of yourself!"

The carrot top regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth—he was already halfway through 23 years of age and his tendency of not filtering his brain before he spoke still had not changed. The cutting silence enveloping him only deepened his regrets. His head began to spin from the cold and lack of rest. He couldn't even remember if he had lunch.

"Alright. I won't probe anymore," Ulquiorra conceded. "But I still do not understand why you disregarded my attempts to approach you today."

"Why? Does it bother you? Or did you forget what you told me that day at the park outside the studio? That we are no more than two actors enacting a scene?"

The words he blurted out sounded harsh even to his ears. For some reason, he had been waiting for this moment to throw those words back to Ulquiorra, just to see how he would react. If the raven didn't care, he could just turn and walk away.

And yet, Ulquiorra inched forward until they were barely an arm's length away from each other.

"You should never have brought that woman to the set." Ulquiorra's voice rose barely beyond a whisper in the empty carpark.

The stillness of his voice starkly contrasted with Ichigo's heated tone of earlier. Despite Ulquiorra's words, his tone wasn't accusatory. Rather, he sounded defeated.

For the first time since filming that morning, Ichigo looked at Ulquiorra. The raven's nose was just as red, if not a smidge redder than his, and his face was far paler than usual. Strangely, the pink plumes surrounding Ulquiorra had vanished. All that was left of the famously demanding actor was a forlorn figure in a simple dark green coat and a brown dress shirt with matching pants. Ichigo stared at his co-star, unblinkingly, even as the shorter man reached out to adjust Ichigo's scarf, which now lay in a haphazard blob around his blue down jacket. Ulquiorra unfolded the ends of the scarf and rounded it twice around Ichigo's neck, making sure that it wasn't too tight nor too loose. Then he tied a small knot to secure the scarf and tucked the ends inside Ichigo's jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"Your voice is nasal," Ulquiorra explained. "If you don't cover your neck properly, you will end up disrupting the filming schedule again."

"Since when did you become my surrogate mom?"

Ulquiorra stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Don't be ridiculous, Kurosaki."

"Says the one who's dressed for the autumn fashion runway when it's winter."

"I am fine."

If only for a moment, Ichigo forgot his oath to not go anywhere near a certain green-eyed man, as he impulsively touched Ulquiorra's cheek with his fingertips.

"How can this be fine?!" He withdrew his fingers in surprise, not sure if it was due to the sudden jolt of coldness, or that he had willingly touched his co-star. "Just for how long have you been out here?"

Taken aback by Ichigo's unexpected touch, Ulquiorra dropped his gaze and focused on the ends of Ichigo's scarf instead. "Not too long."

"Seriously." Ichigo sniffled as he tucked his chilled fingertips under the scarf to regain some warmth. "Can't you go elsewhere instead?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Yeah yeah, even so you could have just waited somewhere nice and toasty. Don't you know that the movie studio is too stingy to install heating units at the parking lot?"

"I am fine with where I am," Ulquiorra insisted as he stepped aside to allow Ichigo entry into his car. "This is nothing."

The confident smirk that Ulquiorra was familiar with began to slip back on Ichigo's face. "You always want to have the last say, don't you?"

"I merely state the facts."

Ichigo shrugged. "Well then, guess it's good night."

Giving Ichigo one last look before the younger man got into the driver's seat and revved up the engine, Ulquiorra added in a voice so soft that only he could hear it: "Good night."