A/N: I know it looked like we were gearing up for smexy-ness in this chapter, but Yoruichi decided to put in an appearance, which pushed the date over the word count limit I put for the chapters in this fic. XD So, you'll all just have to wait until next week for it. lol But I promise, more tension is good. Ja ne, minna!

"Somebody's got a da~te." The masculine voice from the windowsill startled the blonde shopkeeper into dropping his tie.

A grey eye slid over to the black cat perched in the window, its tail tip flicking back and forth in amusement. He pulled on his best 'Kuchiki Scowl™' and picked up his tie from the floor. Already showered and dressed in a sharp, button-down shirt with nearly invisible pin-striping, Kisuke was pants-less with only periwinkle boxers hiding his modesty from his snooping guest.

The lithe creature leapt down from the sill and up onto his western style bed to lounge across the dress slacks he'd chosen, but had yet to put on. "So, who's the lucky someone, Kissu?"

"Yoruichi-chan, that nickname in that voice is not being nice and you know it." He was vaguely frustrated by the situation.

In a very short time he was going to be meeting up with someone he'd very firmly placed in the 'Do Not Attempt' category over a decade ago. It promised to be a night of incredible enjoyment, and pleasure, and if yesterday's kisses were anything to go by, it would be like something he hadn't had in entirely too long. The anticipation was getting to him—something that never happened—and he was torn down the middle. On one hand, he could go, damn the consequences and take whatever Lady Luck decided to dish out. On the other, he could no go, and he would spend the evening in his lab…tinkering with new experiments…alone… This was why his body, moving on auto-pilot, had him fiddling with a tie he knew how to fix in his sleep as though he'd never tied one before.

Several attempts later he made a noise of extreme frustration and threw the thing to the ground. He'd be plenty dressed up enough without it, right? Worried grey eyes looked down at it, frowning. He bent to pick it up, but then heard soft laughter behind him.

"I haven't seen you this out of sorts since we first arrived in the Living World, Kissu. Whatever this date means to you, I'm sure it can't be anywhere near as bad as you think it is."

Suddenly there was a very shapely, very naked Shihoin Yoruichi laying on his bed with her legs crossed one over the other and her arms behind her head. The foot still resting on the bed was just below his pillow, and if she was an inch further down her head would have been hanging over the edge. Her golden, feline eyes peered up at him upside down with mirth dancing in their luminous depths. Instantly, Kisuke was aware that whatever he spoke of in this room, at this time, would be shared with the entire Visored crew and probably half of Seireitei.

So, deciding to protect himself at least a tiny bit longer, he merely said, "My planned evening is none of your concern, Yoruichi-chan. Now, kindly hand me my pants. If I delay any longer, I shall be late."

"Mah!" She reached under her and tossed the almost black slacks over her head. "You know I'll find out sooner or later, Kissu. Why try and hide it?"

For safety, he almost said. Instead, he merely pulled on the pants and tucked in his shirt. Looking himself over in the mirror, he sighed. A critical eye took in the shift of clothing around his waist and he wondered for a moment if he needed to upgrade his gigai again. Was that grey hair? New wrinkles? Had that last experiment done something to the integrity of his skin? Or was he being lazy now that the Visoreds didn't need him to keep their cover and virtually all of Soul Society was able to come and go as they pleased thanks to the alliance between Seireitei and Las Noches? A second sigh brought a second round of giggles.

He frowned at her, "What is so funny?"

"You." She winked. "Fussing over yourself like a teenager getting ready for prom. Just go. I'm sure whoever he or she is, they'll adore you. You convinced them to give you an honest-to-goodness date, right? That means you've already caught their attention. Now, you just have to reel them in."

Kisuke rolled his eyes. She had a point, but her analogy just made him want to snicker. Thinking of his date that night as a fish. Heh, did lizards count as fish? He didn't think his Berry-tan would appreciate it implications of that comparison. The other one certainly hadn't. He'd been quite irritated when Kisuke had told it to him. The two had the same temper that way. He always thought they took themselves too seriously, and the similarities between their drives for power had the blonde freezing in place. What if the similarities went deeper?

No! Berry-tan wasn't anything like So-so! His honesty for one. His vitality. His inner strength. His will to protect. Sure, he pushed himself as hard as he could to grow as powerful as he could get, but that didn't mean he was swallowed by that same bloodlust, did it? Six years was an awful long time to still be banking on the orangette's moral code, and hadn't yesterday proven that the substitute Shinigami was anything but the teenager he'd been under Kisuke's influence?

A shiver ran down his spine as his hand hovered over Benihime's handle. He couldn't take another lover like So-so. Manipulative, cold, uncaring. The bastard had only ever been after his research, but the ways he'd gone about getting it…The hand on his shoulder made him jump, he was so deep into his thoughts. The crimson princess was out and leveled at the 'attacker' before he'd even thought.

"Whoa! Kisuke!" Yoruichi's eyes went wide, staring at the sharp edge of a blade she had personally seen honed. "I may not know everything that runs through that straw-filled head of yours but I do know when you're thinking too much. And usually that's when you start drawing first and asking questions later."

She used a careful finger to push the sword-cane's tip away from her collarbone, and rose her gaze to meet the fearful, stony orbs at the end of the Zanpakutou. Upon eye contact, the graceful lady was away and back into her sheathe where she belonged, though she grumbled in his mind about missing out on tasting the feline woman's blood. In composing himself, the captain-turned-shopkeeper promised her a full run-through of all of her moves against something worth her while. It satisfied her for the moment, but the implication was that she'd better get to taste the life fluid she was named for or there would be Hell to pay.

The combination of that threat and the expression on Yoruichi's face brought his signature grin to his lips. "Ah, Yoruichi-san, my apologies for my over-eager partner. She seems a bit restless. Perhaps my anticipation of this evening has gotten to her."

He bowed dramatically, snagging his hat from the peg next to the door, and placing it upon his head as he straightened back up again. This time when he met the Flash Goddess's eyes, his own were sparkling with mirth and excitement. Slinging the suit jacket that matched his slacks over his shoulder, he gestured for his guest to precede him in exiting his bedroom.

Shrinking back to cat form, Yoruichi did just that, holding her flexible tail aloft in the prideful way of all cats. Her haughty tone solidified that impression as her soundless steps beside him took them out into the common area of the Shoten. "Just don't expect me to go easy on you the next time we cross blades, shopkeeper."

"Hai, hai, Yoruichi-san. For now though, I must beg a rain check of you. I was not exaggerating when I mentioned I would be late should I delay any longer. Perhaps I'll see you later tonight, or perhaps I'll see you tomorrow sometime. It all depends on how well this evening goes, ne?" He was jovial once again, as he exited through the shop with a wave and a nod to each of the others on his way.

"Boss really is caught up in this tonight, ne, Shihoin-sama?" Tessai rumbled as the blonde turned the corner at the end of the alley.

The ebony feline levitated to the wall next to the shop, "Yah. I wonder how caught up he is, Tessai-san…"

"Bah. Good riddance." Jinta complained, throwing his broom on the ground. "With him out we don't hafta work."

Ururu blinked at her red-haired partner. Though they were much older, in their mid-twenties now, they still looked virtually the same. Jinta had taken to growing his hair out, and though he swore it was because he thought ponytails looked cool, it couldn't help but be noticed that he wore it in the same half-up, half-down style as one red-haired vice-captain of the Sixth. He'd even gotten a couple of black, tribal style lines tattooed on his biceps. Again, he dared anybody to claim he did so out of admiration for anyone. On the other hand, Ururu had deliberately followed in the footsteps of two of her favorite role models. Her bangs were long, and curved back behind her ears, held there by a pair of ladybug barrettes, but the back was short and choppy, barely brushing her collar. Where Jinta wore tee-shirts with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that had deliberate slashes cut into them, Ururu wore pleated skirts and professional blouses. During the mornings both had classes at the local community college, but at the evenings they still worked at the Shoten in exchange for room and board, and a little tuition help.

The handle of the broom Jinta had just discarded came up and smacked him across the back of the head. He whipped around to see who'd done it, only to receive another smack, this time across his face. Glaring and spinning around, he grabbed the broom and brandished it like a bokkan.

"Who was that!?" He screeched. Grabbing a hold of Ururu's hair, he demanded, "Was it you?"

He was given a third hit, this time from the back again, and it sent him sprawling into the dirt at the dark-haired girl's feet. Tessai scolded, "Young ladies deserve more respect than that. Now, get back to work, you have boxes to move for the boss."

The giant of a man hauled his redheaded ward into the shop, leaving Ururu to finish the sweeping. None of them noticed Yoruichi hop off the wall to the other side of the alley and off into the gathering darkness of the evening in the same direction as the shopkeeper.

On his walk, Kisuke whistled a tuneless melody that reminded him to keep his thoughts light and his expectations realistic. Just because the berry had implied that they would be physically intimate this night did not mean that they actually would be, and the blonde would do well to remember that. No matter how much the memory of those kisses sent blood straight to his groin. For that matter, there was no guarantee Berry-tan would even be there. If his home life was anything like it had been when he was a teenager, the steamy orangette could very easily be stuck hanging around the homestead for the evening, unable to escape the apparently prejudiced eye of his father.

That thought put a damper on his mood, but he quickly resolved himself that he would not let the effort he put into his current appearance go to waste. If the substitute Shinigami was a no-show, Kisuke would simply find some other delectable fruit to take home for the evening. So, really, it didn't matter if Berry-tan showed up or not.

He almost had himself convinced of that when he came around the corner across the street from the club. The sight outside the door had him stopping in his tracks and swallowing harshly against the constricting feeling of all of his bodily fluids being dried up at once. He was immensely grateful he'd ditched the tie, because there he was, in all his truly delicious glory, leaning against the wall of the club like there was nothing he'd rather be doing.

Ankles crossed, hands in his pockets, and laughing—outright laughing—at something the bouncer said. As usual, a line of people stretched around the club's building to the other side, but if anything was obvious the strawberry wasn't waiting to get in, merely keeping the large, dark-skinned brunette company while he worked. Why hadn't Kisuke ever noticed before that the usual bouncer at his favorite club was Yasutora-san? He shook his head in wonder.

That soul-piercing chocolate-amber gaze caught sight of him and the orangette was pushing himself off the wall with a farewell to his long-time best friend. Crossing the street, he was sex on legs. Black turtle-neck with reflective lettering across the chest and studded with blunt pyramids around the neck. Detached sleeves held down by crimson cuffs around each wrist. Lithe torso hugged by a crimson and ebony corset from ribs to belly button. Faded, light-blue jeans, slung low, and tight, adorned by a silver belt that did nothing, fading into black boot-cut bottoms. And were those heels?! Four inch heeled, platform boots in black vinyl with matching crimson lacing across the toes disappeared up under those sinful jeans. The skin of his shoulders and biceps played a pale counter-measure to the dark tones of his clothing, and the four inch ring of tantalizing flesh between his belt and his corset had Kisuke's breath hitching.

A small smirk pulled the silver ring in Ichigo's lip up as he took in the effect he had on the blonde. Striding directly into Kisuke's personal space, the orangette took advantage of the few inches his boots gave him over the former captain, to tilt the scruffy chin up and capture the lips he'd been dreaming about all day. A satisfied noise of pleasure vibrated from somewhere within the pair, though neither really knew where it came from. A few moments of fire between them, lips sliding against each other, gentle fingertips cupping the stubble-sprinkled chin that Kisuke could never truly get rid of, and passion that consumed below the surface was all either could stand before they broke apart, panting. Silver-grey bore up into golden-sienna. It was like fireworks in the middle of an electric storm that was more complicated than his most important inventions. Frankly, it stole his breath away and a terrified part of himself, way down deep inside, wondered once again what, if any, differences existed between this paralyzing soul and the other.

Then that sinful demon spoke, a lusty baritone that made the shopkeeper's knees go weak. "Miss me?"

If Kisuke spoke, he didn't notice. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. He was firmly and completely under the berry's spell, and he really didn't care. All he needed was to taste those lips again, feel the silky smooth skin that held in check corded muscles harder than steel yet pliable under his fingertips, and bathe in the ecstasy that was the substitute Shinigami's reiatsu. Last night he'd been too caught up in the physical attraction, the changes in both appearance and attitude, to notice the way the orangette's spiritual pressure wasn't the all-consuming wildfire it had once been.

No, now it was smoldering, just below the surface. There but not all out in the open where anyone with half a brain could feel it, which was why Kisuke hadn't noticed it before he spotted the berry's signature head of hair. It was deliciously teasing, flickering just at the edges of his senses, daring his own to rise up and meet him. But far from the demand he had always been forced to answer with So-so, this was a question, an enticement, and a challenge all in one. It didn't remove his options, but the sensation excited that part of him that demanded he answer—Benihime.

He'd just begun to reach out with his own reiatsu when Ichigo pulled back, still wearing that challenging smirk. "I'm kinda hungry…wanna grab a bite?"

"Uh…" For a moment, the shopkeeper was speechless, trying to remember how to use words to communicate again. Then his crimson princess smacked him across the back of his mindscape, and he fell into character. "Definitely. Have someplace in mind, Berry-kun?"

He had to swallow again as Ichigo looked over him with a slow, deliberate appraisal. "Yeah. I've got an idea. C'mon. My car's around the corner in the lot."

The orangette stepped away completely, his hands at his sides, and strode in the direction of the club's parking lot. Kisuke could barely remember to breathe as he watched matching silver filigree embroidered on the back pockets of those entirely-too-tight jeans sway back and forth in time to the berry's steps.

Get a grip, Kisuke! He mentally aided Benihime in smacking himself around. The last time he lost his head like this it had been…well, the culmination was obvious now that he looked back on it, and quite frankly, no matter how dangerous So-so had become…Ichigo was at least ten times worse than that, what with the fact that he was the ultimate hybrid—powers from Shinigami, Fullbringer, Quincy, and Hollow. He hadn't even thought of that! What if Ichigo's Hollow had managed to overthrown the real Berry-tan?! What if that was the source of the orangette's new-found confidence and predatory nature?!

The blonde froze in his steps, his heart clenching in fear. Was he walking into a trap? Was the Hollow attempting to get him alone so he could consume him? Was that what Berry-tan meant by hungry!? His hand tightened on Benihime's cane-handle, ready to draw her at a moment's notice in spite of the Zanpakutou's sniff of disapproval.

"Are you coming, Kissu?" Ichigo looked up from beside his car, where he'd just opened his door, in confusion.

"O-of course, Berry-tan!" He recovered quickly, shading his eyes with his hat, and striding purposefully to the passenger's side door.

As soon as they were on the road, the orangette began talking. "I know you're gonna love this place. It's something they have in the States that serves noodles in almost any kind of sauce you can imagine, and they top it with beef or pork or chicken or meat balls made with Italian spices. I fell in love with the place the first time Jacky took me there, and I was sure I'd have to…give…it…"

He trailed off as he realized Kisuke wasn't listening. Orange eyebrows drew together and after a few blocks of silence, Ichigo pulled the car over to stare at the blonde. It still took a while before the distracted grey eyes finally acknowledged that they were both no longer moving and he was the subject of the berry's scrutiny.

"Nani?" The blonde asked, blinking, but his knuckles paled around the handle of his cane.

Ichigo took that in and his frown deepened. His eyes shifted from Kisuke's hand to his face and back again a few times. "You think Shiro took over."

"Nandesuka…" Kisuke tried.

"Don't give me that shit!" The orangette cut him off. "You're just like the rest. Even Chado. You all think because I'm not angry all the time anymore, and I actually go after what I want, that he took over while I was away. Well, I'll have you know I was watched, God damn it! Ukitake-san was in regular contact with me for the last six years. Hell, Shinji would show up on my doorstep every time he was bored! I swear, Soul Society has nothing better to do than to watch me! I thought it'd be better coming home where I thought everybody knew me, but I guess not." He reached over and opened the door. "If the only reason you're here is to make sure I'm not going psycho, you can leave now."

Kisuke looked at the door for a moment, taken aback. Then his gaze shifted to the trembling biceps and shoulders of the young man sitting in the driver's seat. The flickering under-current of reiatsu was gone, sealed back behind a shield that made the orangette invisible, spiritually speaking. There was tension in his neck and back, a clenching in his jaw, and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his swallow. He refused to look at the blonde, staring determinedly out of the windshield at the street light just down the way, casting a soft yellow glow on the darkened area. Kisuke tilted his head just a little and caught a glimpse of over-brightness in the corner of the amber orb closest to him.

Screwing up his courage, the shopkeeper closed the car door and waited for Ichigo to look at him. When he did, staring in disbelief, Kisuke spoke, "You will learn very quickly, Berry-tan, that my mind is never still. I apologize that I allowed myself to be drawn that far away from our conversation. I believe you were telling me about an American restaurant that serves Italian-spiced food?"

"Y-you…you're not…"

For the first time since their reunion, Kisuke had the upper-hand in the conversation as the substitute Shinigami sputtered a bit. It was obvious he'd been dead certain that the only reason the shopkeeper was going out with him was to check up on him. When silence stretched between them, the orangette realized he was waiting for a further description of this place that Ichigo had discovered during his time abroad. This prompted a re-launching of the tale about how a person named 'Jacky', apparently a classmate from college, had taken him out for dinner and the hilarity that ensued during the orangette's first experience with Italian food…and wine. That story bled into the next and the next and the next, until the hesitation at the curb was long forgotten, dinner was eaten and the pair were on their way back to the Shoten.

Pulling up outside, Ichigo cut the engine and the lights. Technically it was still early, barely past eleven, but other than going back to the club, there was really only one thing Kisuke wanted to do with his fiery date. Turning off the car seemed to stall their conversation as well, because surprisingly both men found they had nothing they could say without seeming desperate. Once again silence stretched between them, both wanting what neither was willing to offer.

Finally, Kisuke gripped the door handle and threw a cocky smile over his shoulder, "Would you like to come in, Berry-tan?"

"Sure!" Ichigo jumped on the end of the question, then immediately hesitated. "I-if that's alright."