A/N, or Not Very Humble Self Advertisement: While you wait for the next update, please read 'Sleep', a sequel I wrote (prematurely?) for this fic. This is a prime case of doing things in no particular order like the ingenious, mad artist that I am…
What're you thinking?
Chapter 6
"Say, Ichigo. You made your poor little friend carry you all the way back home like a sack of potatoes while you ran off on a date?"
It was Sunday morning in the Kurosaki household and in the corridor stood a loud, unshaven and excessively gestural blockade that gleefully carried intentions to manipulate.
Ichigo was three-quarters of the way down the staircase, half dressed and fully jerked out of drowsiness into level 3 defense mode.
"It was an emergency situation, and Mizuiro was the only one around," the teenager carefully replied. "I'll thank him properly tomorrow."
Isshin wriggled his eyebrows. "No date?"
"Do dates and emergency situations sound compatible to you?" Ichigo flatly countered.
His face fell. "No picnic by the sunset? No stargazing on the roof?"
Ichigo ignored him and tried to slip pass his octopus arms and legs; it wasn't as fun as it looked.
"Not even a candlelight dinner!? Italian never goes wrong. There's something romantic about spaghetti bolognaise isn't there? And ooh, French dessert! I was thinking of having udon for dinner tonight, or maybe hamburger steak, and by the way what did you think of the mackerel last night?"
"Uh, it was pretty g –
Ichigo stopped himself instantly, because his father was wearing that 'Ha, I gotcha!' look and he knew that he was totally screwed.
Luckily Yuzu was announcing breakfast time and the shinigami quickly dodged to the side and dove into his seat.
Isshin followed suit at a leisurely pace, wearing a lazy, regal smile as they all exchanged good mornings.
Following a peculiarly length silence he suddenly boomed, "My brave son and sweet daughters! Shall we have curry tonight?"
"Ugh, dad!" yelped Karin, who had spilt her soup in shock.
"Then I'd need to buy some potatoes," Yuzu said.
Kurosaki senior rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe yakisoba… or mackerel? Oh, no, we already had mackerel last night –
"No we didn't, we went out for pizza," Karin interrupted.
Isshin looked positively jubilant. "Oh yes, but our Ichigo here got someone to especially make him dinner yesterday, hadn't he? And I heard that the mackerel had been pretty good…"
"Ooh, was it mackerel stewed in miso?" piped up Yuzu as her sister raised an eyebrow in devilish curiosity.
Since Ichigo was too busy imitating the tomatoes in his salad Isshin quickly continued, "What was that saying about getting into a guy's heart through his stomach?"
And then he dropped his chopsticks and ran for his life.
After spending the Sunday morning chasing his father around the block, Ichigo found himself inside a gigantic exhibition centre, struggling to navigate amidst the colorful, noisy sea of handicraft enthusiasts.
The girlfriend who was supposed to go with Yuzu had gotten herself grounded at the very last minute, and Yuzu didn't want to waste the extra ticket. Karin and the old man both had 'plans' already, so that left Ichigo.
There were a many hundred stalls selling anything from table cloths to tailor-made period costumes, and the place was packed with squealing schoolgirls, giggling OL's, nagging housewives and gossiping grannies.
Ichigo belonged to that unfortunate 30 percent of brothers, boyfriends and husband who were soon to become little more than coat hungers and shopping trolleys.
"Ichi-nii, Ichi-nii!" Yuzu exclaimed as she dragged him to the next stall, "Remember that lace skirt I had been making?"
"Uh –
"I need a lining for it, but I don't know which color to pick. Look at all this! Should I get the 'pearl' white, or the 'angel's feathers' white, or 'rice husk' white? Wow, look at this, 'periwinkle' white and 'maiden's white!"
Ichigo unconsciously scowled at the booklet of synthetic cloth samples that a beaming Yuzu had thrust beneath his nose.
"Which one, Ichi-nii?"
He had no freaking idea and was not about to make a fool of himself.
"At this convention we are selling our material at almost 20 percent off the regular market price," offered a salesclerk nearby. "What's more, if you purchase five or more meters of a selected range, you can immediately enjoy a further 10 percent discount."
Yuzu looked almost ecstatic, and Ichigo knew that he had better do something soon before she ended up buying 10 meters for every different 'shade' of the flimsy white stuff.
"Kurosaki-kun! Yuzu-chan!"
Ichigo looked up to see Orihime bounding to their rescue, wearing a sky blue skirt, a t-shirt that bore the words 'Afterschool Stitches' and –
Were those cats' ears?
The girls immediately launched into an energetic discussion over the latest episode of some Korean drama, and Ichigo had to repeat himself two times before Orihime finally replied, "Oh! Our handicrafts club has a stall here. Come and take a look!"
When they arrived, Ichigo could see nothing but a crowd of very giggly and very excited teenage girls. Beneath the commotion were snippets of a familiar voice belonging to someone who was trying extremely hard to remain civil.
"Yes. Yes, that's fine. It will take a while, so please come back in 20 minutes. No, I prefer to work without an audience. Thank you, but I must decline; I do not believe that my phone number would be of much practical use to you…"
The sound of a chair scraping across the floorboard elicited duo gasps from Orihime and the chestnut-haired freshman who was distributing fliers to the customers.
"Ishida-kun, where are you going?"
"Wait, Ishida-sempai!"
"Akitsuki. Give me your clothes."
"Huh? Then what am I supposed to –
"Figure that out by yourself. Hurry up, strip."
"But Ishida-kun, we need you!"
"Oh, I'm not falling for that a second time. All right, please, all of you. Come back in half an hour. Go on."
As the giggling crowd slowly dispersed to reveal the source of all the ruckus, Ichigo's brain damn near short-circuited at the sight:
Black tailored jacket, over a white fitted shirt with the first three buttons undone.
Dark blue denim sitting impossibly low on slim hips, hugging a pair of long legs with the perfect sleekness of a second skin.
Lace up ankle boots of scuffed brown leather.
Sapphire eyes still framed –not with glasses but meticulous strokes of the blackest eyeliner.
The glint of a small silver stud on the ridge of the exposed left ear.
"Ishida-san, you look great in those clothes!" Yuzu praised.
"I am inclined to disagree, but thank you nonetheless," Ishida replied stiffly.
Spontaneously and unwisely Ichigo asked, "Why are you dressed like that?"
The archer sent him a frosty look as Orihime a little too quickly and earnestly answered, "Business tactics!"
No doubt a euphemism for 'sex sells'.
"Is that also why you're wearing those… uh…" Ichigo raised an arm vaguely towards the top of his head.
Orihime mirrored the gesture in slight befuddlement. When she felt the ears she said, "Ah, that's right. All of our club members decided that I would dress up like a maid to um, draw in more customers during peak hours…"
The redhead broke off with a flush to match that of Ishida's.
"Peak hour or no, I refuse to remain in this ridiculous get-up for another minute," the Quincy snapped. "Your clothes, Akitsuki."
"It's not ridiculous, you look very handsome!" Yuzu protested crossly while Akitsuki furiously nodded in agreement.
"Ishida-kun, you are the one who's being ridiculous!" Orihime loudly and sternly cried, "As the president of this club it is very silly –not to mention irresponsible –of you to make such a fuss over something as trivial as a change of clothing, especially when all of us are depending on you to make this a successful event!"
Ishida was struck speechless, and even Ichigo had cringed a little.
"Akitsuki-kun, you're in charge of the store. Tell Kyoko-chan to come back and help you. Yuzu-chan, come help me put on my costume. Ishida-kun, your presidency is revoked until you walk off all that nonsense. Kurosaki-kun, take him away."
"What –
"But –
"Once unleashed my anger is not easily placated! Be off with you!"
Ichigo promptly grabbed the archer by the arm to tug him out of the fire zone of a woman's wrath.
"Don't you manhandle me, Kurosaki!"
"Shut up, you're drawing attention to yourself!"
"You shut up!"
"Look, you're gonna have your own fan club in a second."
"What –oh for heaven's sake, let go. Fine, come this way."
They ducked into a corridor and ascended two flights of stairs, whereupon Ishida spotted a sliding door so rusty that it took their combined strength to wrench open.
Ichigo brushed the dust off his hands as he stepped outside.
It was a modestly sized veranda of steel railings and weather-beaten concrete that faced a dense wall of trees. The early midday sun came down in dapples of crystal whites and pale gold that waltzed across the ground to the quiet rhythm of the rustling leaves.
Ishida had shrugged off his blazer and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his forearms. He propped up his elbows and leaned back against the railing, tipping his head back to inhale deeply like a tulip arching towards the light.
The archer groused, "Some president I am –getting kicked off my own booth."
"Only temporarily," Ichigo reminded him.
His genuine (but poor) attempt to reassure went down the drain as Ishida gave him his second frosty look for the day.
"Have you perhaps forgotten that following this 'temporary' suspension I have to go back and spend seven more hours in this clown suit?"
"Look, if it bothers you that much, swap clothes with me."
"And have Inoue-san chase after both of us? I don't think so."
"At any rate, there is absolutely nothing wrong with what you're wearing."
Ishida was bristling. "Are you delusional? Look at this! This shirt ought to be at least two sizes larger. These jeans are so tight that I might as well be wearing stockings like Henry the eighth! And I keep on making a fool of myself because I'm trying to push up my glasses when I'm not actually wearing any –
"Seriously Ishida, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"
"What?"
Ichigo smiled a little sheepishly. "You have no idea how incredible you look right now, do you? Those girls were fawning over you for a reason."
Ishida reddened and ducked his head. "Well, I don't need any more of that."
Ichigo snuck closer and said casually, "True enough, since you're no longer available."
"What are you implying?" It was a retort, but Ichigo took it as a question.
"What do you think I'm implying?"
He reduced the distance to within an arm's length.
"Oh, like I would know what goes on in that brain of yours."
"Our deal is still in effect, and that was one of my questions."
His hands were on the railing on either side of the Quincy's arms, and he was so close now that those black-rimmed eyes could probably kill if they should glare.
Still as a forest of winter pines, Ishida was flushed to the tips of his ears and unbelievably gorgeous.
"I presume the implication is a romantic relationship between two committed parties."
It had been no more than a murmur but Ichigo's heart was answering with symphonic intensity.
"Exactly," he replied in a hush, "and that would be you and me."
He braved past that last inch and their mouths came together in a quietly spectacular exchange of taste and scent and promise.
It was a physiologically uncomplicated flesh against flesh, but for all Ichigo knew it could have been an explosion of polyphonic sound and nameless wild colors because the sensation was making him soar.
Slowly Ishida was yielding to the kiss, his lips parting ever so slightly like an awakening blossom.
Ichigo cautiously swiped his tongue across that gap; dipping into the water in torturous anticipation of the delicious burn.
His hands rose: the left to cradle the back of Ishida's head, the right to splay over the small of his back in a tenderly possessive embrace.
Then the archer's arms were around him too, and it soon became a question-answer game between two shyly questing tongues.
They were chest to chest and the pit of Ichigo's stomach was tingling with a familiar growing heat.
It was Ishida who had more self control than he and pulled back, breathing fast through bruised lips as he look at him with soft, glazed blue eyes.
Ichigo ran his finger along the ridge of a pale ear, his thumb rolling around the spherical coolness of the small piercing.
"Oh hell, it's real," he muttered.
Ishida laughed lightly. "You say that as if my ear might fall off because of it."
Ichigo 'hmmed' in reply while his digits continued to stray, exploring the delicate sculpture of soft cartilage and warm flesh.
"Stop that," Ishida chided quietly, his voice lusciously hoarse and enticingly palpable against his skin.
"Right," Ichigo agreed even as his hands remained on autopilot, slipping into Ishida's open collar and drawing circles on his hip.
"Kurosaki, I meant it," he warned, this time with more conviction.
Ichigo sighed with a little drama as he let go and moved to Ishida's side.
"By the way," the shinigami said after a while, "they didn't make you get a piercing just for this convention, did they?"
Ishida frowned. "Of course not, that's preposterous. I got the piercing a long time ago."
"Not to make a fashion statement, I presume," Ichigo joked.
"Actually," the Quincy replied lightly, "I did it to annoy Ryuuken."
Ichigo's mouth dropped open. "You got your ear pierced to piss off your dad?"
"It wasn't a terribly original method of child rebellion, I'll admit."
"Right… don't tell me you got a tattoo as well."
"Hm, now there's an idea."
The shinigami shook his head in disbelief. "And what else don't I know about you?"
His companion raised a challenging eyebrow. "That's for you to find out."
"How about dinner, then?"
Ishida speechlessly stared at him for a few seconds –and then he started to laugh, and he looked incredibly happy and absolutely beautiful.
"So, what're you thinking?" His heart had bumped its way into his throat but Ichigo pressed on. "Should we eat in or out?"
"I think you're being a little presumptuous here –who said I was free?" Ishida retorted with the barest hint of a smile.
"I did?" Ichigo replied hopefully.
"Well, I was free, but I suppose I'm not, now," said Ishida with a shrug as he started to make his way back inside.
Ichigo blinked a few times before running after him.
"Hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean? Ishida!"
Owari
A/N: It seems that this chapter became my excuse to indulge in putting Ishida in sexy clothes, as well as his sexy new haircut (ear fetish, yes), as well as first kisses, as well as… anyway, I'm sorry!
Does that make it a pointless last chapter? If it does, do not fear, for an epilogue is near!
A review would be nice?