Sugar and Spice – Chapter 2

Everything in its Place, Including Hands

When Ichigo got home to his apartment, he didn't even bother to say hello to his roommate, Ishida Uryuu, a med student who was currently interning at his father's hospital and his close friend for the last ten years. Instead, he headed straight to the bookshelf and pulled out a heavy copy of The Professional Cook, the bible of all cookbooks. His sister Yuzu had given it to him as a Christmas present two years ago. He had only used it a couple of times, but it mostly sat on the shelf collecting dust.

His apartment was not a large space, consisting of a quaint kitchen area with a tall raised medium that divided the space from the living room. The seating area had one beige couch in front of a large flat-screen television on a low rectangular entertainment center. Inside the center housed their game systems and a very expensive stereo, a gift from Ichigo's father.

Down a short hallway was a small bathroom and opposite of that two doorways leading to their bedrooms. Next to the kitchen table was a large window overlooking downtown Karakura from the 15th floor. The floor space was all clean parquet with a few rugs placed around.

Ishida was sitting on the couch wearing his mint green medical scrubs playing a military shoot 'em up game, pushing his glasses up once in a while as he shuffled on the couch frantically trying to pulverize evil Nazis. Explosive booms came out of the surround sound speakers and vibrated the whole apartment, but it went silent as soon as Ichigo took a seat on one of the bar stools at the tall island counter in front of the kitchen. Ishida had put his game on pause and got up.

"Geez, nice to see you, too," Ishida muttered tersely. "I know you can be a rude jerk Ichigo, but what the hell?"

"Ishida, really, I can't listen to this right now." Ichigo flipped open the cooking manual designed for working kitchens. He began hunting for the pastry section.

Ishida grunted.

"You don't understand I've really messed up this time. All because of a nice piece of ass," Ichigo tried to explain and groaned. "Ok, that isn't me talking. I can't believe I just said that." He lowered his head and grabbed two handfuls of hair in frustration.

Whenever Ichigo mentions another man's ass, Ishida cannot stop himself from blushing. He should be used to it by now. Ichigo plays on both sides of the team, but Ishida is somewhat shy talking about it. The medical student prides himself on being a clean, proper man as he was raised by a strict father. He supports Ichigo fully and clearly, something has him losing his shit right now because he does not normally talk so tactless.

"Actually, I barely got a good look at his ass seeing as it was covered by a white coat." Ichigo was still grabbing his hair. Oh, cause he did try to look.

"A white coat?" wondered the dark-haired roommate, forgetting about the repeated mention of asses. "Was he a doctor or something?"

"A baker—a chef," Ichigo said, looking up. "And he's a total jerk, too!" Still, there was something about the way Byakuya looked at him, that gave Ichigo the urge to quiver.

Ishida was confused. "Let me get this straight. You met a nice piece of—" Ishida smacked himself on the forehead. "I mean, you met a guy who's a baker and a jerk." He pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose pushing up his glasses and narrowed his blue eyes at his friend. "And this causes you what kind of problem exactly? Why not just ignore the guy? It seems kind of simple."

"You don't understand, Uryuu, you should have seen this guy. He makes me crazy just looking at him—I can't even explain it. I could barely get out a coherent sentence until his sister showed up." Ichigo shook his head as if to clear it. "I wish people came with a label, like a list of ingredients so that you could tell if they're good for your health or not. I bet Byakuya's first ingredient would be cayenne pepper."

"Well, cayenne is actually kind of good for you. The spice increases blood flow and it has a lot of vitamins in it," Ishida informed. He was not a med student for nothing. With honours...

Ichigo scowled at Ishida who stood there looking at him in his hospital gear, scrub pants with pockets on the sides of the knee and a matching V-neck, short-sleeved shirt. He must be going to work soon at the hospital, he thought. Ichigo got up and walked over to the fridge, pulled open the door and grabbed a beer.

"You know, that's not funny, Ishida." He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a much-needed swig. He licked his lips and added, "He was such an arrogant guy, the way he talks—his voice. Boy, I'm in trouble." He chuckled incredulously now remembering the effect Byakuya's voice had on him tonight.

"He's going to eat me alive."

"I think you're over-reacting, Ichigo. I still don't understand what you're rambling about or why you have this cook book open. I didn't even know they made cook books this thick. It's a monster."

"Because he—Byakuya..." Ichigo murmured almost dreamily. "He and his sister hired me to work at their bakery, that's why I need to read this book. I don't want to go in there completely unprepared for battle. Somehow I asked for a job and they accepted," Ichigo bemoaned. "Tomorrow morning I start as a baker's assistant."

"What!"

"The sister is pretty nice, seems a little hot-headed—"

"—kind of like yourself." Ishida withheld little sarcasm.

"Shut up!" Ichigo protested. "I am not."

Ishida remained smugly silent.

Ichigo scowled at his roommate harder. "You know I was looking for a job anyways since no one is hiring accountants anywhere, it seems. Nevertheless, I still need to pay the rent and pay back my student loan, my father only paid for the first year. And those loan guys are starting to breathe down my neck."

"I know but a baker's assistant, that's totally left field don't you think?" Ishida stated as he held up the game controller he was still holding and pressed the button in the middle to turn off the system.

Ichigo sighed. "I have nothing against cooking, Ishida. I kind of like it actually. It takes a real man to do that kind of job. The work can be back-breaking, it takes serious dedication."

"I'm not knocking the validity of the position, Ichigo. I just mean, you're seriously going to take this job over some handsome-jerk-chef?"

Ichigo's eyes suddenly grew softer as he thought about the pastry chef with silky raven black hair and his icy exterior that desperately needed to be cracked. "Maybe he's just like that with people he doesn't know," he said thoughtfully, recapturing the moment when he saw him tonight through the window. He'd never felt anything like that before.

"Ok, that's it. I'm going to work now," Ishida said despairingly, placing the game controller on the counter and walked over to the door to grab his jacket off the hook. "You just have to learn everything the hard way, don't you? Well, good luck with that and good luck with your new job. Bring me home a cookie."

"Fine, be that way then!" Ichigo hollered as his friend exited the apartment.

Ishida's muffled voice squawked from the other side of the door, "Stubborn fool!"

A cell phone burst to life with the rock song News from the Front at 7:30am.

Groaning, Ichigo reached over blinking and squinting to turn off his alarm clock with a swipe of his finger across the screen. Was it morning already? He lay there with his eyes closed, still sprawled over his bed, limbs partly in and partially out of his mangled sheets and blankets. His arm brushed against something cold and hard.

The cookbook he had been reading until late into the night was still open and lying across his chest. It took a moment for him to remember.

His eyes shot open. The handsome-jerk-chef!

He scrambled out of his bed sending the cookbook sliding off the other side and thudding to the floor loudly like a bowling ball. But Ichigo didn't care about the ruckus as his stomach began to swirl with nerves.

He could do this. He had to do this. He could not walk away from this challenge. He had to face Byakuya head on.

Besides, it also meant a paying job.

After a hot shower Ichigo got dressed as Rukia had instructed, dark pants, comfortable black work boots. He chose his own top, a faded red t-shirt with white letters that read 'truth or dare?' on it. He tousled his damp hair with his fingers and grabbed the purple hoodie he wore yesterday. Ichigo could not even think about breakfast this morning, but he downed a glass of orange juice. Then he grabbed his keys and left his apartment.

Just as he left the lobby and his foot connected with the concrete sidewalk a big-boobied girl who was out for a morning jog ran right into him. He skidded to a halt as her bus-sized bust connected with his elbow and nearly knocked to the ground. But he caught himself and shook his head from the aftershocks.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry... eh? Is that you Kurosaki-kun?"

It was one of his high school buddies from a few years ago, a woman with long orange hair a shade darker than his. She had brown eyes and a curvy figure—she was a traffic stopper, but she was the kind of girl that did not recognize her own beauty. She was down to earth and strange, but Ichigo always got along with those kinds of people.

"Inoue...? What a surprise to see you. Oi, you almost killed me." He started to laugh and blush a little, still feeling her Ukraine Hetalia-sized breasts springing off his arm.

Orihime Inoue held her hands to her cheeks with clear embarrassment, as she stood there with a pink fleecy zip-up and black tights with running shoes on her feet. Her hair tied back.

"We have a bad habit of running into each other like this," she said, giggling nervously.

Ichigo made a face. "No kidding. The last time was in the cafeteria in high school when you nearly tackled me sending my chicken soup flying off my tray." He began to laugh. "It landed on Chad's big head."

Now Inoue chuckled for real. "That's right and he got a noodle in his ear."

They laughed.

Back then, Ichigo knew Orihime Inoue had a crush on him. Maybe it was the hair colour or something, he didn't know, but as cute as she was he did not feel the same. The only problem was he could tell that she was looking at him the same way she looked at him back then.

"Look, I...err. I have to get to work. I can't be late today." Oh man, he could not. And let that haughty chef have a reason to cast looks of distaste in his direction all day? No way!

"Oh, what are you doing now?" Orihime wondered.

"I work at Café on Sixth," Ichigo told her. He was not about to mention that today was his first day.

The woman's brown eyes opened wide. "Café on Sixth...?" She suddenly squealed. "That's the one with Chef Kuchiki Byakuya, everyone who knows anything about pastry knows about that guy. And he's so handsome," she sang. "It's my favourite bakery! They make the yummiest things there and it's so pretty and sophisticated inside. I can't believe you work there." She looked at him puzzled now. "I've never seen you there before."

"Oh, I've only been there for a little while." Ichigo hoped she had not been there in the last few days, at least. And what was this about Byakuya? Ichigo felt like he was missing something. Was that guy more popular than he knew?

She nodded. "I guess that makes sense. I haven't been there for over a week." Inoue smiled. "Now I'll have to come there to see you."

Ichigo smiled genuinely. "You can come by anytime, Inoue. Anything for a friend..." He was sure to emphasize the 'friend' part as nicely as possible. If anything, he was not a mean-spirited kind of person.

"Bye Kurosaki-kun!"

Ichigo waved goodbye before he walked the opposite way. If he hurried, he would make it to work just on time. Thankfully, he didn't live too far and was able to walk there in thirty minutes, give or take. On the way there, he decided to do a quick Google of the name Kuchiki Byakuya.

What came up made Ichigo's eyebrows rise. There were many websites dedicated to restaurant reviews and rankings. Under many of the lists, all of them gave Café on Sixth five stars or ranked it one of the top ten bakeries to visit in Karakura Town. That was very impressive. There were also numerous articles about Byakuya himself, one claiming he'd been interviewed on television. Sadly, Ichigo didn't have time to read all of it right now. He had to hurry.

When he came to the outside of the shop, he realized it looked very different in the daylight. It was classy and inviting and anyone standing outside of it knew that inside was pure decadence. Printed on the glass in semi-transparent white script was Café on Sixth, which also had a nice white awning shading the front.

Ichigo also noticed a propped sign that stood near the entrance with a message written with pink chalk. It read:

Byakuya's Cooking Tip du Jour!

Always warm your lemons in hot water to yield the most juice from them.

Welcome!

Ichigo could not help it and thought wickedly, Oh, I'll warm your lemons for you, Byakuya. Then he frowned deeply because the day hadn't even started yet and here he was thinking self-indulgent things. He sighed with frustration at himself and took a deep breath, gathering his wits before he pulled open the café door.

At once, the smell of baking goodness filled his nostrils. It immediately reminded Ichigo that he had not eaten breakfast. Yet, it also reminded him of his nervous stomach. He could feel the palms of his hands dampen and a tremor rolling across his body. He was more anxious about seeing the dark-haired chef again than actually starting his new job in this prestigious bakery.

The place was already crammed with people.

"Good morning, Ichigo." Rukia smiled friendly like and waved at him as she poured coffee for a patron waiting at the cash register.

Voices and soft music filled the bakery as Ichigo noticed that every seat in the place had a patron. There was everyone from business suit-types to college kids in here. It appeared this place appealed to wide demographic.

"Morning, Rukia," Ichigo said loud enough for her to hear. He noticed she had on a similar outfit that she wore yesterday.

"Byakuya is in the kitchen, go on back there and he'll set you up." Rukia explained all this as she served her customer.

Ichigo avoided people who were ogling the pastries at the counter and went around it. He slowly pushed open a swinging door to find himself in a large white kitchen with big white tiles on the floor. To his right there was a long stainless steel countertop, a tall appliance next to that beside a wall. It looked like an oven. On the wall near the oven was a big door with a silver handle. Across the room was a hallway leading somewhere and a shelf filled with all kinds of cooking equipment on top, stainless steel hotel pans, inserts and perforated pans. There were large bins filled with wooden spoons, whisks, offset spatulas, rubber spatulas and a cheese grater. You name it and it was there. On the bottom shelf, he saw bags of flour and sugar and chocolate.

Across the room, there was a three-compartment sink and an industrial dishwasher. On the left wall was a gas range that had a pot full of something Ichigo couldn't see, but it smelled deliciously of raspberries from where he stood. Beside the stove was a deep fryer that was not in use at the moment.

And in the left corner was Mr. Pastry Chef himself in black jeans and his usual crisp white chef coat, leaning over a large white bin scooping out sugar. He was reaching to the bottom of the huge brown bag that was nearly empty.

This time Ichigo certainly noticed Byakuya's ass since it was on purrrfect display. Oh my, yes...

He couldn't understand why Ishida suddenly had the nerve to pop into his mind just then. Gah, stupid git! Ichigo's cheeks flamed as if he were being reminded that he was acting like a dweeb.

Still, Byakuya sure had a splendid backside.

Ichigo's fingers curled next to his side as if gripping something invisible, nearly forgetting where he was and why he was there. Before he got too carried away, he decided he had better announce himself before he turned into that stuttering creeper again from last night.

"Good morning, Byakuya."

Used to being alone in his kitchen, Byakuya immediately stood at the sound of the new voice, holding a scoop full of white sugar in his right hand. He didn't display the disbelief he felt at seeing the cute ginger-haired man from last night, unable to believe the guy actually showed up.

But Byakuya wasn't made of stone even if he tried to appear that way because, the sugar he was holding, slowly began to spill out of the scoop as if he forgot he was holding it.

A tiny white mountain began to form next to the toe of his Birkenstocks.

Ichigo darted over and lifted the scoop level. "Hey now, surprised to see me?" He chuckled somewhat shyly, relieved that he could produce full sentences this time and amazed with himself that he managed the clever comment. At once, he realized how close he stood near the raven-haired chef and immediately took a step back. Still, it was long enough to notice all over again how striking this man was with his hair up in its loose knot, grey eyes hard like the steel of a sword. And his lips, so soft and pink—they appeared freshly licked.

Ichigo also noticed they were the same height.

Byakuya scoffed and turned around to pour the remaining sugar into a bowl that was sitting on a weigh scale on a small counter next to the deep fryer. "No, I was more concerned that you have the nerve to address me like we are already friends," he claimed callously. "It is Kuchiki Byakuya to you."

That was so harsh! Some of his nerves forgotten, Ichigo scowled freely at the man. "Sure, whatever, Kuchiki Byakuya, or should I just call you Chef?"

"'Chef' is a title you earn, Kurosaki Ichigo. I do not believe I have earned that title yet. It is not necessary to call me that."

Ichigo wasn't sure about all that just yet. "I heard that the people running a kitchen are separated into ranks like soldiers in an army. Then that would make you like a general or a captain." It was something that he read in The Professional Cook. Many French chefs called their teams of cooks a 'brigade'.

Measured to the precise weight, Byakuya dropped the scoop back into the bag of sugar and picked up the metal bowl. He poured its contents into a larger mixing bowl that was situated to Ichigo's immediate left that stood to chest height and sat on the floor. Then he closed the wrap-around cage and pressed a green button that made the huge mixer begin to mix.

"That's old school," Byakuya said, sounding unimpressed.

"So, Byakuya," Ichigo began flippantly, completely forgetting about etiquette, "Rukia told me to come to you and that you'd set me up. Where do I find a jacket?"

Narrowing his eyes, Byakuya could not believe the nerve of this guy ignoring his request to be called by his full name. What happened to good manners these days? Byakuya took a deep breath; he wasn't going to press the issue. Rukia warned him to play nice so he'd let it slide for now.

Byakuya allowed his eyes to travel from Ichigo's boots to his face as if he were assessing him like a new car. And he was. "Come with me," he ordered, his voice deep and toneless.

Ichigo couldn't explain it but he began to tingle all over. Suddenly he felt all thumbs standing in the same room with this arrogant cook whose voice had the power to hypnotize, his gaze able to make his body squirm in a very good way.

Geez, he had to get a grip.

Byakuya led Ichigo down the small hallway, which led to three more doors. One was clearly marked 'Washroom', another marked 'Dry Storage'. The door closest to them on their right was fully open revealing a small room with a desk. The office was very tidy and organized with a bookshelf full of cookbooks and folders, a corkboard on the opposite wall, pinned with invoices, names and numbers. On the desk, he saw a phone and a laptop that was currently open with a spreadsheet showing monetary figures for the month of October.

The dark-haired baker went to a standing closet next to the bookshelf and opened the double doors. Inside were a few chef coats all pressed and clean on hangers. At the bottom of the closet was a basket full of white hand towels. And on a small hook on the inside of the door were a couple of clean black aprons.

Byakuya selected a white coat and handed it to Ichigo. "You can use this and..." He picked up an apron. "You can wear this." He gave the younger man the apron and told him. "If you need to change your clothes you can use the washroom. You may leave your belongings in the office where it will be safe. Theft will not be tolerated here."

"I'm not a thief," Ichigo said sourly.

"I did not say that you were."

"Well good."

Ichigo stared back defiantly at Byakuya, whom he felt was staring at him with accusing eyes. He couldn't understand how one man could make him feel so damn irritated and mesmerized all at once.

"We send our uniforms out to be cleaned once a week, pick up day is Wednesday, that's today. If you dirty yours you may take it home to wash it," Byakuya explained. "And it must be ironed. Our presentation is also important."

Ichigo nodded.

Byakuya regarded his new employee once more. "I must check on my raspberry coulis—get dressed and then I'll put you to work."

The pâtissier left the office quietly, giving Ichigo a moment to catch his breath. He ran a hand over his face and scowled some more.

Ichigo hurried to get dressed in the chef coat that Byakuya had given him to wear. He didn't need to use the washroom since all he had to do was hang up his sweater and put on the white jacket over his T-shirt. The small wallet he carried and his cell phone got tucked into his sweater pocket. He buttoned up one side of the of the double flap front, rolled up the long sleeves the way Byakuya rolled up his, and tied the black apron around his waist.

He chuffed imagining what he must look like all decked out like a chef. He could feel some of his first-day nerves had settled a bit and knew he was able to face the enigmatic Byakuya Kuchiki, pastry chef extraordinaire.

Before he left the office, he gave the room a better look. He noticed a picture in a silver frame propped on the desk, almost hidden by the laptop. Leaning over, Ichigo noticed it was a photograph of Byakuya standing next to a man that looked a lot like him, but older. They were both wearing sharply tailored suits and standing in front of a plaque that read Kuchiki Enterprises. Both men stood tall with hands at their sides. Byakuya actually looked content with a pleased look on his face while the other man smiled warmly for the camera.

Ichigo was captivated. The man currently in the kitchen did not appear content at all. So what had happened to make him seem so sour?

There was another photograph beside the one with the two men. In a white frame was a woman that reminded Ichigo of Rukia, yet, it could not be Rukia because her eyes had a different look. She also seemed a bit older.

Who was she?

Scanning the room, Ichigo saw some evidence of Rukia in the office, too. There was a perfume bottle on the desk and a cell phone with a pink casing and a rabbit charm attached to it. On the floor, underneath the desk, was pair of woman's tall leather boots and a purse.

What caught his eye was the motorcycle helmet he saw sitting on top of the closet full of chef coats. It was a sleek black helmet with a dark visor. And hanging on the back of the office chair was a black leather riding jacket.

Did Byakuya wear those? Ichigo sure hoped so.

With a crooked grin and his mind full of curious questions, he left the office not wishing to make his new boss wait any longer.

When he returned to the kitchen, Byakuya was removing some pale-coloured dough out of the big silver mixing bowl that he had poured sugar into earlier. Ichigo checked the spot on the floor to see that the sugar mountain had been cleaned up.

"Ok, where do we start? Is Rukia okay out there by herself? Do I need to do anything for her?"

Without looking over, Byakuya answered evenly. "Rukia is fine. The bakery has been well stocked for this morning and for most of the day. What we do is make more. Not every day is the same—we offer our clients whatever we wish to create. I make a list each day of tasks that need to be fulfilled. In time you will become accustomed to what we supply the bakery with, what is expected."

"Alright," Ichigo said in a friendly way, trying to find some kind of medium with this guy. "And what do you have there?"

"Sablé," explained Byakuya in his cool way. "It's a shortbread that we use for cookies or tart bases."

"You say a lot of French terms. Did you learn that at a cooking school?" Ichigo wondered as he watched Byakuya's long pale fingers mold the dough into a big ball with practiced grace.

"I did not attend a school for baking and I do not only focus on French pastry," Byakuya said, giving no further details. "How old are you?" he then asked directly, changing the subject and pushing the now empty bowl aside.

"I'm twenty-five," Ichigo replied carefully.

A noticeably different look came to Byakuya's eyes when he glanced back at Ichigo who stood watching him, waiting eagerly for instruction. "I was twenty-six when I first started. I have been doing this for six years." Slowly, he turned back to his dough, dividing it into four parts and flattened each piece with his palm.

"Do you know what the term mise en place means, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Ichigo made an apologetic face. He was sure he saw that term somewhere in The Professional Cook but couldn't remember what it meant for the life of him. "I'm sorry, but I don't know. And could you please call me Ichigo... I promise I won't be offended."

Byakuya forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Fine then, Ichigo...I will explain. Mise en place stands for 'everything in its place'. It is the rule that cooks should follow to organize themselves in a kitchen. It means before you make anything, organize everything you need beforehand."

"You mean like gathering my ingredients and chopping up anything that needs chopping, or collecting equipment, right?"

"Precisely," Byakuya said, glancing back at his new assistant keenly. The young man seemed to catch on quickly. Still, it was too early to determine if he was as smart as he was cute.

For the first time this morning Ichigo smiled brilliantly for Byakuya, his entire face glowed as innocently as a boys' excited that he was able to give the right answer.

And for some reason Byakuya's cool facade turned even colder when he saw it.

"If you show the aptitude for this kind of work, I would suggest you bring a notebook to record recipes and valuable information that you need to remember," the dark-haired baker explained as flat as a tire. "It appears you have much to learn. We will see if you are capable."

The smile Ichigo wore vanished, but he kept his mouth shut. Why you smarmy... Inside he was grumbling at how quickly Byakuya had burst his bubble. What was his problem?

For the next while, Byakuya showed Ichigo around the kitchen, introducing him to the walk-in refrigerator and the freezer inside of it. He explained the importance of labelling, sanitization and how everything must be kept off the floor for health inspector reasons and rodent infestation.

He taught Ichigo how to use the computerized oven that could bake, steam and proof dough all at the touch of a button. There was even a short lesson on how to use the dishwasher and a trip to the dry storage to observe inventory.

Byakuya explained that there was an order board that when anything seemed low, Ichigo was urged to write it on the board for ordering.

"So when do I get to make something? I wanna get my hands dirty." Ichigo was getting tired of just standing around feeling useless.

A tiny amused sound escaped the dark-haired baker. "Well, let's see," he said.

They were standing in the middle of the kitchen when Byakuya brazenly took Ichigo's hands in his own, turning them around, running his thumbs gently over the palms and along his fingers. Ichigo's hands were pleasantly warm, strong, yet supple—so terribly inviting. What Byakuya was looking for was not there, however, he did discover something else entirely. He withheld a small grin.

Ichigo actually gasped and now stood frozen on the spot, his knees threatening to give out on him.

Just at that moment, Rukia wandered into the back kitchen. "Nii-sama we need more..." She blinked at the spectacle and then frowned, the crests of her cheeks as rosy as Ichigo's were. "What's going on? Nii-sama, how could you during working hours?"

Byakuya sighed and voiced dryly. "It is not what you think, Rukia. I was merely checking to see how soft his hands were."

Instantly, the petite woman's mouth dropped open.

Reluctantly, Byakuya let go of Ichigo's hands appearing completely unfazed by his strange behaviour in front of his sister and the new comer. "Again, it is not what you think."

"It really isn't my business, but what the hell are you doing?" Rukia demanded, hands on her small hips.

Turning away from the situation to conceal a fiendish smirk, Byakuya walked over to the counter and pulled up a cutting board from underneath. "I was checking to see if Ichigo had a callus like all cooks have on their index fingers from using a chef knife so often. It would seem he does not."

Oh. Rukia thought about that explanation for a moment before she seemed to accept it. "I guess," she said, unsure. "Anyways, I was wondering if you have any more beignets coming, we've sold out of them all and everyone keeps asking for them."

"I can prepare some for you in a moment," Byakuya offered coolly.

"Thank you, nii-sama," she said with exasperation. Rukia flashed Ichigo a pitying look before she turned to resume her front-of-the-house duties.

Byakuya remained eerily silent as he went into the walk-in fridge and pulled out a tray of beignets that were cold proofing since last night from a rolling rack. All he had to do was deep-fry and glaze them, or maybe, he would powder them after they cooled, and fill them with melted marshmallow and chocolate chips. Ah, yes.

When he came out of the fridge he stole a glance at the tortured-looking Ichigo Kurosaki he'd left standing in the middle of the kitchen, who was watching him like he was some kind of crazed tormenter. A shame, Rukia certainly had poor timing when he chose to be a bad boy. It was true, of course. He was being awful. He couldn't help it. Ichigo had mentioned getting his 'hands dirty' and Byakuya became prey to mindless perversions.

No matter, he was convinced Ichigo wouldn't last long. Like so many others that entertained the notion that they could wear a chef coat and run a kitchen only to discover they could not handle the work.

Still, unlike those other assistants this tawny-haired guy, who'd wandered into his bakery last night all flustered and charming, was so intriguing. Byakuya never felt anything like it. Yet, how annoyed he felt that one man was able to get under his protected shell so easily and cause him to react in mysterious ways. It was very frustrating when he prided himself on his self-control.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. It was time he put Ichigo to work, time to test him. Then he would determine his worth. There would be plenty enough time to play with his new assistant later.

"Would you please turn on the deep fryer to three twenty-five Fahrenheit, Ichigo," Byakuya ordered. "And then, I would like if you quartered all the strawberries in-House and chopped all the basil—rough chop is adequate. You can use the cutting board I've already placed there on the counter."

He'd toughen the young man up. Put a callus on his index finger.

"Quarter means divide by four, right?" Ichigo hated to ask that but he didn't want to fuck it up.

Byakuya closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes, it does."

With a curt nod, Ichigo got to work.

Over the next four hours, the new assistant quartered four flats of strawberries, chopped piles of basil that was going to be used as a gelée for the strawberry mousses and layers for strawberry panna cottas. After that, Byakuya ordered him to slice a huge pile of the crustiest bread and day-old croissants for bread pudding.

Ichigo gave it his all, sawing and slicing old bread that could be accurately compared to wooden logs. His right hand was starting to smart and feel raw, and his back and feet were aching from standing in the same spot for hours. He was sweating from all the work in this warm kitchen when someone placed a tall glass of iced-tea next to his cutting board.

He looked up to see it was Rukia Kuchiki.

"I thought you could use a drink, Ichigo," she told him thoughtfully.

Ichigo gratefully picked up the glass and drank every drop of the cold drink in one go. He sighed with relief when he was done. "Thank you, Rukia."

She smiled. "You're welcome. I hope my brother is being helpful and keeping his hands to himself?"

Ichigo started to blush and chuckle awkwardly. "He is keeping me busy that's for sure. But it's a good kind of busy. I don't mind. I feel like I've been to the dojo but with less punching and kicking, thankfully," he said jokingly, glancing over at Byakuya. He hadn't spoken much to him since this morning and especially after the hand-grabbing incident which kind of left him speechless. The pâtissier was currently garnishing the tops of some fancy mousses with piped chocolate swirls.

"Oh? Do you practice martial arts?" Rukia asked.

"A friend of mine owns a dojo, she teaches kids martial arts and sometimes I visit. I used to work there and at the restaurant before college started." Ichigo set his glass down on the counter.

"What did you go to college for?"

"Accounting," Ichigo told her, "But I haven't been able to find a position anywhere. Times are tough. Let me know if you ever need anyone to do your taxes."

"Haha, alright, but that is a shame about the schooling," Rukia agreed. "I know it's hard for people when they graduate and find themselves stuck. Especially after spending all that money on their education..."

Ichigo nodded.

"Maybe you will find you're better at something else. Life has a way of throwing us curve balls. That's what Sōjun Kuchiki told me once." Rukia explained thoughtfully.

"Who is Sōjun Kuchiki? Is he your father?" Ichigo wondered curiously.

Rukia shook her head. "Yes and no, he's Byakuya's father but he's my adoptive father. It makes no difference to me. They are my family no matter what." She groaned. "It's a long story—one day, I'll explain it."

"Fair enough," Ichigo agreed. It was hard to imagine that these two people in the kitchen were not blood related since they resembled each other so much. He thought of the woman in the white picture frame—how much Ichigo wanted to ask about her. But it would be rude to do so now.

"Are you hungry? Byakuya should have lunch available soon. Right, nii-sama?" she mentioned and looked over at her brother.

Still working on his garnishing, Byakuya spoke. "It is in the oven."

Rukia smiled at Ichigo again and whispered to him. "Good, I'm starving." She patted her stomach and grinned. "He's such a slave driver."

"I heard that," Byakuya chided from across the kitchen.

Rukia winked at Ichigo playfully and told them both. "Please excuse me for a few minutes. Ichigo, could you please watch the front for me? Do you know how to use a cash register?"

Happy to get the break, Ichigo nodded. "No problem, I'll take care of it."

"The prices are listed on the screen next to everything we sell. But it's pretty slow right now just after lunch time so you should have no worries," she said.

"I'll go with him, in case he needs to plate something," Byakuya claimed and picked up the tray of decadent chocolate mousses.

Rukia cast a strange look in her brother's direction before she wandered to the back.

Ichigo got the swinging door for him and followed Byakuya to the front of the café that was empty of guests at the moment. He watched the dark-haired chef fill an empty section with the mousses.

"Those look amazing," Ichigo told him honestly. "You really are a chef no matter what you say."

Byakuya said nothing.

"Will you teach me to make something like that?" Ichigo wondered, thinking that there was something exceptionally fun about this entire business.

"Perhaps," Byakuya replied quietly.

Ichigo smiled softly and began to investigate all the goodies under the counter. "Mmm... everything looks so tasty and I don't even know the names of everything. How is it that you're not three hundred pounds?"

Byakuya was leaning back against the coffee service counter with his arms crossed over his chest. "I do not fancy sweets really."

Ichigo could only gape at the man. "But you must taste them to make sure they are good. Man, I love sweets. I really love chocolate more though. I could get used to this."

With a gesture of his hand, Byakuya urged. "Then please feel free to sample anything you like. I agree you must taste everything you make, that's a very important rule."

"There sure are a lot of rules," Ichigo teased. "But I get it, cooking is serious stuff." He pointed at one of the freshly made chocolate mousses. "May I?"

Byakuya's eyes warmed slightly then. Watching the younger man carefully, Byakuya again motioned with his hand but said nothing. Instead, he found himself indulging in what many cooks revel in—the reaction of others to creations they have made. Only this time, he was treated to observing his interesting new assistant, whose genuine kindness was nearly palpable.

Byakuya did not meet many people like this, except maybe his father and sister.

Ichigo held the treat in his fingers gingerly and bit into it. His eyes glazed over with immediate bliss and he moaned. "Oh my gawd—so good," he mumbled with a mouthful of silky Belgian chocolate. He gave Byakuya a goofy smile, his lips covered in melted chocolate.

Byakuya dropped his eyes to the floor closed them. He bit back a smile. It was a perfect reaction Ichigo was too amusing.

"I've died and gone to heaven!"

"Now you're just getting carried away," Byakuya chastised.

A/N: I couldn't resist putting Byakuya and Ichigo in chef whites lulz! I hope you enjoy Chapter 2. It was sooo freaking long that I had to divide it into the next chapter. So bear with me. Also, I refuse to write God, so instead I always use 'gawd'... not that I'm religious or anything, personally I'm against organized religion, but it feels wrong to write 'god' XD! I know, I'm weird! You may also notice silly little Bleach references throughout the story. I couldn't resist XD! I hope they are as fun for you as they are for me.

Note:

- du Jour stands for 'of the day'.

- pâtissier means Pastry Chef

Reviewers: YAY! So happy to get some comments for this. Glad there are some enjoying.

Guest: Thanks so much stranger! I hope you'll continue to enjoy this fluffy little fic. I promise there is only a teensy bit of angst, otherwise it really is just fangirl indulgence XD! I aim to make the Bya/Ichi fangirls scream. I hope. I mean, I'm screamin' I just hope I'm not the only one *sweatdrop*

Fuyublue: Coming right up! *dishes out another chapter*

geecee: My friend! Yup, I finally decided to post up this story because I feel confident about the plot and its progress. Yes! For Papa Sojun. He won't show up for a while tho.. but he will! I promise. Just so you know I added in two of you fav chars with you in mind, you inspired me to add them. I hope you don't mind how I abused them lol! XD! Thanks so much for your comments!

Setsunai: Haha! There will be bit more on the whole 'horn dog' issue later on lol! But technically, yeah... Ichigo was kind of the horn dog here HAHA! Many thanks for you comment!

Usamimi chan: Waa! I can't believe you read my fic! I'm touched, I LOVE your story. I hope you enjoy this crazy AU... it's very un-Bleach and Byakuya is probably a lot nicer than usual XD! But then again this is AU and he thinks Ichigo is cute hehe. Thanks sooo much for commenting!