"Please kill me. I can't move my back, or I would do it myself."

Ikkaku snored in response. Because Ikkaku was an ass who slept through Yumichika's pain. Ass. Yumichika decided that, whether or not he was going to die immediately after, he would have to get out of his duffel bag and out of that jeep, and soon. He couldn't take much more of the fetal position.

He egg rolled off the bag, onto the cold, hard floor. Emphasis on cold. That was enough. He shrieked and jumped, all the way over the side and onto the pavement below. Thanks to having slept in an egg shape all night, his legs failed him immediately, and he collapsed like an overdone noodle. The parking lot surface was surprisingly comfortable, in comparison.

Yumichika lay for a moment with his face pressed against the asphalt, staring at a mysterious stain and contemplating his life. He did not want to see himself in the mirror this morning. He had not bathed recently. His hairs were conspiring against him. He probably had bags under his eyes. How was being murdered in his bed at home any worse than this? At least he would be presentable and not feel disgusting in his final moments.

A particularly hearty snore from the front seat of the jeep dragged him up out of his funk of despair (but not the general funk, smell-wise). Well, he SUPPOSED it would be bad of him to let Ikkaku die without trying to help at all. Maybe he was cultivating his inner beauty. He would have a great personality after this, for sure. He could not quite contain an incredulous snort at the thought. Nevertheless, he peeled himself back up, brushed off the weird parking lot dirt, grabbed a change of clothes and a large bag of toiletries and wobbled into the public restroom to minimize the damage.

He came back, sparkling as well as he was able (not a bad job, considering the circumstances!), and made a beeline for his bag. Some days were good hair days. Some days were bad hair days. That day did not qualify as any sort of hair day at all. It was a hat day, or maybe a scarf day. Maybe both. He got his glasses back out from the day before, too, just in case. Maybe no one would recognize him and he would not have to kill all of the witnesses.

Turning around to start work on removing Ikkaku's feet from the driver's seat, Yumichika was stopped short. There was some sort of demon sitting blearily in the passenger seat, and Ikkaku was no where to be found. A bright red demon had eaten Ikkaku. This was an entirely unacceptable turn of events. It clashed with the wisteria of the jeep.

The demon leaned forward off the seat with a sick sticking noise. It swore in Ikkaku's voice, grabbing at its back. That seemed to hurt nearly as much, and it swore again, much less blearily, and twisted around to inspect the damage. It had Ikkaku's face, too, which fell dramatically as it slowly began to comprehend the extent of Ikkaku's sunburn. Yumichika burst into hearty guffaws.

"You look like a lobster! I knew it! Mr. 'I can't burn' isn't looking too hot now, is he?"

"It's... crunchy. Why is it crunchy? Everything hurts!"

Yumichika reached over the door and lightly poked Ikkaku's shoulder. He chuckled again as Ikkaku flinched away, hissing. "You know, I've got some lotion you should put on that. If it's not too GIRLY for you, that is."

Ikkaku growled. "This doesn't mean you were right. The sun is stronger in the desert! This wouldn't have happened at home!" He tried to cross his arms and look away, but cringed and settled for not touching anything, anywhere, ever. He finally mumbled out, "yeah, I'll take the stuff. If it'll stop being crunchy."

Yumichika retrieved the "stuff" along with some concealer. He brandished both. Ikkaku gave him a confused look. He explained. "You've got some pretty epic bags under your eyes. You look like a red panda, rocking an ensemble like that."

Ikkaku continued to look confused as well as suspicious, and did not take the concealer. He took the other stuff, though, and headed for the rest stop building. A few minutes later, he returned covered in a thick layer of white lotion, with with a wild look in his eyes and huge smears of black marker around them. "It won't come off!"

"What the hell is... you did the thing. That thing you said." Yumichika began to crack up again. "I thought you were joking! What sort of moron draws eyes on himself with permanent marker?"

"This is not funny! It's always come off before! That was the wrong marker!"

"And it's not the first time! This is excellent! You've outdone yourself!"

"Stop laughing and help! I look like death!"

"Since when has that bothered you?" Yumichika did his best to school his expression. "It's not that bad, you know. Very high fashion."

"Still not funny!"

Yumichika threw up his hands. "What do you want me to do? I'm not a god. You'll just have to wait until it wears off." Not that it was impossible, necessarily. Just too funny as it was to risk ruining it. Ikkaku did not have to know. It was his own fault for knowing nothing about personal grooming. Yumichika sat down in his seat to compose himself. "Are you ready to go?"

Ikkaku went to run a hand over his head, apparently remembered the lotion and thought better of it. He squeezed his hand into a fist instead, took a deep breath and let it out. He sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees. It looked very uncomfortable. "Yeah, sure. Why not? Let's get breakfast, too. I'm already sick of bean and cheese burritos."

Just the thought of those burritos stirred up uncomfortable feelings in Yumichika's gut. "Great, I hadn't even thought about those yet this morning. Thanks a lot."

"Glad I could help. Wouldn't want to keep all the fun for myself."