How to Escape Your Summer Camp- Chapter 7
(A/N: Sorry for everything guys, I know I suck for not updating anything. I've gone through all of my stories and planned new chapters(yes, plural) for all of them now, and I intend to update like a fiend now that I'm not supposed to have any freetime.
Grinning, Ichigo watched the lights of the buildings through the RV window. The glossy panes shimmered as lights and neon signs flashed and flared against the dark sky, and the stars were crisp silver decorations, unblocked by clouds.
Music blared from various clubs and casinos, and the others pionted and chattered about the beautiful sights.
Ichigo thought Las Vegas was the most beautiful invitation to mayhem he had ever seen.
Within an hour, they were all filing into a large and popular casino, the Domino Hotel.(A/N:Random name.)
Plastic cups of quarters were passed out, and they hit the floor.
Ichigo scored again and again on the slot machines, scooping up the piles of coins as Nelliel and Hallibel went to get more cups. Whenever one of them won big at a game, the coins were distributed again, so everyone got to keep playing.
Twenty minutes in, Lilinette hit the jackpot on one of the machines. She and the other girls jumped and screamed and danced eachother around as the coins piled up on the floor.
Sweeping through, cup in hand, Ichigo cast a wary eye over the card tables. Wandering over, he had to lean around the massive pile of chips to see the player cleaning out the table.
"Hanataro?" he blurted.
The shyer boy smiled at him, laughing nervously. "H-hi, Ichigo."
The nervous laugh made several of the others at the table twitch oddly. Ichigo guessed that Hanataro's permanently nervous behavior threw off their game, and smirked. "Ooh, nice job Hana," he laughed. "You don't even know how you're winning, do you?"
Hanataro shrugged sheepishly. "Erm, I still have trouble even remembering the rules," he admitted. "I can barely play, let alone win."
Ichigo snorted. "You've got a good poker-face," he told him. "If you get bored, Ulquiorra's sweeping a table on the other side of the bar, and Lilinette just hit the jackpot on the slots. There's an arcade too, and plenty of quarters. Knock yourself out."
Hanataro beamed at him. "I'm okay with just staying here," he decided. "I'll come meet up with you all later, okay?"
"Have fun!" laughed Ichigo, spinning away.
He wandered about, playing a game here and there, before he found Grimmjow. A boxing ring was built into one corner of the room, and the blue-haired menace was putting down fighters like they were amateurs.
Smirking, Ichigo knocked back the drink he'd snitched (who knew people would make fake IDs in bulk?) and leaned on the railing. "Kick his ass, Grim!"
Grimmjow barked out a laugh, glancing at him in apparent amusement. "You bet your ass I will!"
"Nah," Ichigo joked. "I try not to bet my ass. I kinda like it."
Grimmjow snorted, and the other man in the arena growled in frustration as he was ignored.
"Oy! Fight seriously!" he snapped.
"O-oh~" leered Ichigo, stealing yet another drink. "You shouldn't have said that."
Grimmjow punched him in the face.
He collapsed.
"Ten, nine, eight," the referee counted down, ignoring the silenced crowd. As he reached zero, he shouted, "KO!"
The crowd roared.
For the next hour or so, Grimmjow fought his way up the guantlet. Eventually, he got hungry, and headed over to the restaurant part of the building, Ichigo in tow. They met Ulquiorra and Hanataro there, and went to sit at the large booth they'd commandeered for their stacks of money.
None the less, more drinking was involved with dinner.
Afterward, Ichigo went to play black-jack, slightly tipsy but easily holding his own on the table. His devil-may-care attitude toward the game encouraged him to take risks, and they paid off more often than not. His grin was permanent, and the blaring music and bustling patrons gave the whole place a frenetic energy.
He felt... confident. As men and women alike flirted with him, and a particularly pretty young waitress handed him a drink 'on the house', and the chips kept stacking up... He didn't feel so very small and afraid as he usually did without Shiro.
Honestly, he thought, with the amount of chaos he'd caused and planned on causing, and his continual disregard for the law, Shiro'd be damn proud of him.
And he couldn't wait to tell him all about it.
Grimmjow snorted softly, and slung an arm about Ichigo's hips to keep him waling in a straight line. By two in the morning, they were all tired and/or drunk enough to be ready to head back to the RV for the night.
Ichigo was of the second category, swaying on his feet and letting Grimmjow support his weight.
At last, fed up with Ichigo tripping over flat ground, Grimmjow scooped him up into his arms.
Ichigo giggled loopily. "Princess h-hic-hold?"
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Sure thing, Princess. I'd better get you back before you hurt yourself," he muttered.
Ichigo just giggled again, and leaned on his shoulder. "You're such a softie, Grim," he drawled.
Grimmjow growled. "Oy! Don't go ruining my reputation!" he joked. "I earned that the hard way, with lots of blood," he added with disturbing and uncharacteristic cheer.
"We all know you're a bastard," Ichigo laughed against his neck. "You're our bastard, though," he added quietly to himself.
Grimmjow heard him, but didn't comment. His expression softened. "Come on, Princess. Let's get you in bed."
"You wish," Ichigo muttered drunkenly, and the moment was broken.
The blue-haired teenager let out a startled bark of laughter at the lewd comment, and shook his head. "A spitfire," he decided. "Just like I said."
"Yeah, yeah," waved off Ichigo. "Now find me some water so I have less of a hangover in the morning."