Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 27 ( Chapter 27 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

 

 

 

Odalisque

 

Chapter 27

 

Renji Abarai ran a hand through his hair and growled.

 

In one swift move he swiveled around in his chair and glowered at the man sitting a few feet away from him, one of his coworkers, Ikkaku Madarame. Renji's eyes stuck to the bald man's head like chewing gum on a sidewalk for several long, arduous minutes.

 

He watched in satisfaction as the bright skull he was currently examining began to grow redder and redder until finally it was the perfect shade to match that of a crimson crayon.

 

“What do you want, Abarai?” He growled furiously, jerking his head up and thrusting his pen onto the pile of paperwork on his desk.

 

Renji managed to keep his smug grin inside and maintain his scowl of frustration. Although he couldn't help but allow one part of his mouth to inch up. What could he say? It was fun to torment that egg-headed, war-mongering buffoon. And besides, he was frustrated, he needed to take it out on someone. Or… at least talk to someone.

 

“How can someone,” he began, his voice a few decibels lower than normal, “Shoot a man in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded street, and get away with it?”

 

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes and allowed a wicked smirk to appear on his face. “You really want me to answer that, detective?”

 

“It was a rhetorical question dumbass.”

 

“Well, well, well…” he crooned, his enjoyment growing by the second, “So even the great Renji Abarai gets stumped by a case. Bravo.”

 

“Shove it Ikkaku,” he snapped back. “I'm not stumped, I just don't have enough evidence.”

 

“Did you find where the rifle was fired?”

 

“Rooftop.”

 

“What kind of weapon it was?”

 

“Sniper.”

 

“Have you gone through the purchasing records?”

 

“For a sniper rifle? No shit! Of course I have!” Renji snapped, his fist coming down hard on his desk, creating a fissure an inch or two long. “What do you think I am? Some kind of fresh-out-of-the-academy greenie?”

 

“You're sure pissing and moaning like one,” Ikkaku pointed out nastily, scribbling his name onto a piece of paper.

 

“Kiss my ass, Madarame,” he seethed and went back to his own papers, his own crime scene photos, and his own personal torment. “Christ, you ask a guy for his opinion…”

 

There was silence for a moment before Ikkaku heaved a sigh and his chair squeaked. Renji looked up and glowered at the man. He was reclining in his uncomfortable seat and had his arms behind his head. As Renji moved his eyes up he was nearly startled by the amount of gravity displayed in Ikkaku's gaze. The man was staring off into space, his face pinched, his eyes narrowed, and his bald head gleaming.

 

“Shot in broad daylight.” He murmured.

 

“Yeah,” Renji answered, finally glad to have some sort of conversation going.

 

“So…” Ikkaku muttered, “This guy, the one who probably shot your vic… I'd have to say he didn't care much for being caught.”

 

“I've gone over that aspect.” Renji butted in instantly. “By his actions—you know, the whole broad daylight thing—I'm guessing this guy, whoever he is, knew that he was a good enough sniper that it wouldn't matter what time he did the deed. He knew that was so good that even if we found his firing place he'd cover his tracks so well that we'd never be able to find him.”

 

“I hate it when killers are too clean,” Ikkaku muttered nastily, picking at a scratch in the table.

 

Renji nodded, “Tell me about it.”

 

The two lapsed into silence for a few moments, both busy with their respective thoughts. Renji's mind, however, instead of staying completely focused on the task at hand, kept swirling into the study of the cases victim: Byakuya Kuchiki.

 

Then, of course, his mind would immediately go to someone else… someone he shouldn't have been thinking about… someone who shouldn't have been anywhere in his mind…

 

Rukia Kuchiki.

 

Renji sighed and tried to force his latest picture of her out of his mind. Rukia in a business suit wearing a torn pair of pantyhose, feet bare, and having one of the most devastated expressions he had ever seen playing right across her face.

 

Renji swallowed and forced that image away. He dug his hands into the pile of papers in front of him and tried vainly to focus on the crime scene statistics and elements that would help him solve the case.

 

He just wished that he could—

 

“Hey Abarai…”

 

Renji jerked his head up and immediately banished all thoughts of Rukia Kuchiki from his mind. “Yeah?” He grunted, his voice scratching lightly against his throat.

 

“Do you think the sniper could have been working for someone?” Ikkaku mused as he twirled his pen between his fingers. “I mean… the guy was good. Damn good. And Byakuya Kuchiki is a powerful man. Maybe someone else wanted him taken care of so they hired a profession to do it.” Ikkaku turned his head to his fellow detective and raised one thin eyebrow. “After all, this guy was a professional. I'm betting that if anyone had a grudge against Kuchiki because they were fired or for personal reasons… I don't think they'd be this meticulous in trying to get rid of him.”

 

Renji blinked once.

 

Light bulb, thy switch is on.

 

“Ikkaku…” he breathed, “I think you're right.”

 

He smirked, “Now I just need to get you to put that in writing.”

 

Renji immediately pulled out his notepad and began jotting down ideas about what other motives might be behind the attempted murder of Byakuya Kuchiki.

 

He had been writing for nearly ten minutes before he heard Ikkaku sigh and shift in his seat again.

 

“Damn man, you've been working on this case for nearly two months straight. I mean, you don't think about anything else. I see you in here in the morning and late at night. I even think you sleep here sometimes,” he turned his fantastically shiny head towards Renji and narrowed his eyes. “Just what is it about this case that makes you want to solve it so badly?”

 

Renji's mouth just curled into a smile and he reached over to pick up his office phone. He dialed a few numbers and waited for the woman to pick up.

 

“Yes, Detective Renji Abarai for Rukia Kuchiki please,” he said, his voice as clear as a bell and his eyes averted from Ikkaku's.

 

Ikkaku Madarame raised an eyebrow, rolled his eyes, and muttered, “A woman… of course.”

 

*~*~*

 

Rukia's phone rang beside her desk and she frowned softly, ignoring the piercing ringing. All of her attention was focused on the paper in front of her… something was just not right with these numbers…

 

She groaned softly and placed her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing the tender flesh delicately. Her tired brain was not working properly. It was Monday and she only had so much energy left from an entire weekend spent cooped up in Ichigo's apartment, experimenting with whip cream, chocolate syrup, and more ice cream. Rukia shuddered softly at the memory of it all. Nearly two and a half days of constant, nonstop, erotic, mind-blowing, sex… no sleep… no rest… mouths never stopping… hips always thrusting…

 

Rukia had to fight not to let out a small moan and rub her thighs together in order to alleviate some of the pressure.

 

Beside her the phone kept screaming.

 

A sigh came from across the entire office. “You gonna get that or let it ring?” Ichigo grunted, rubbing the bottom of his face with his hand. She glanced over at him and found that he was staring at her with eyes heavy with lack of sleep. He glanced over at her and after a moment of staring a slow smile inched over his face. His eyes inched over the entirety of her body that he could see. His grin grew larger and larger with every passing millisecond.

 

Rukia, smiling herself, did the exact same.

 

The peals continued and she reluctantly turned her head away from her lover's inquisitive eyes. She glowered softly at it and wrinkled her nose evilly. Sighing, she picked up the receiver.

 

“Rukia Kuchiki speaking,” she said, her voice crisp and clear and her eyes still glued to Ichigo. He was grinning at her like he was undressing her with his eyes. She liked it.

 

“Rukia?”

 

At the sound of the voice on the other line Rukia peeled her gaze away from her lover's and blinked twice. She swiftly shot a glance down at the number on her phone and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Renji?” She questioned, “Is this Renji?”

 

“In the flesh… well, I would be, if you could actually—ah—see me.” He muttered, stammering slightly.

 

Rukia chuckled lightly and twirled around in her seat so the back of her massive chair was facing Ichigo. She didn't notice the look his face took on or the slight lean that his body made over his desk at the sound of Renji's name. She simply chuckled and twirled the phone cord around her pointer finger.

 

“How has everything been going?” She sighed, her tired voice permeating the phone as she spoke with her old friend. “How's life… people, work, random pets you may have taken in… in…” Her voice faded into the back of her throat as she realized why he might be calling.

 

Her voice became low and cold, a total opposite from the welcoming warmth she had exuded only seconds ago. “Renji… do you have any information on who shot my brother?”

 

“Yes and no,” he said, his voice scratching lightly from the other line. “Well, actually, there two things that I wanted to share with you.”

 

“Go on,” Rukia demanded, her body stiff inside of her chair.

 

“Alright,” Renji cleared his throat and sighed, “As of yet there are no leads into who shot your brother.”

 

The breath that Rukia had been holding in was exhaled in one swift groan. “Please tell me you're lying,” she moaned, pressing her hand onto her forehead. “But it's nearly been a month! How can there not be anything?”

 

“Rukia…” it sounded as though Renji was attempting to make his voice sound as cautionary as possible. “Listen… I've been a detective for nearly four years, I know it might not sound like a lot but… damn Rukia, this guy was good. I mean really good. He's got the entire police force looking like idiots because we can't find out who shot your brother in broad daylight.”

 

A chill ran down Rukia's spine when she thought of that horrid day. The panic she had felt, the anger, and all of that blood. Christ there had been so much of it.

 

She nodded softly and—once she realized that Renji could not, in fact, hear a nod over the phone—let out a strangled, “I understand.” The words rasped from her throat and she cleared it quietly. “You're doing your best… I know that.”

 

“Alright… however, in spite of all that I wanted you to know that we're making headway. I won't let this go Rukia. I promise. I mean, even today I thought of a few things that could help.” There was a soft pause over the phone and Rukia heard Renji shift in his creaky chair.

 

Rukia pursed her lips, “What are they?” She demanded.

 

Renji paused and he sighed, “I'd rather not tell you until I have some concrete evidence to back it up. I… don't want to get your hopes up.”

 

Silence crackled over the phone and Rukia sighed. The quiet had lasted for almost a whole minute before she frowned and raised an eyebrow.

 

“There was something else,” Rukia prompted when Renji still didn't say a word, “Something else you wanted to tell me?”

 

“Oh!” His voice sounded flustered and strained, he cleared his throat softly and Rukia wondered just what it is he could be asking her about. “I was… ah… just wondering if you'd like to see a movie on Wednesday.”

 

Rukia blinked. “A what?”

 

“A, ah, movie? Would you like to go see a movie with me this Friday? I hear there's a really good samurai flick out. We could, ah, check it out.”

 

Rukia sat back in her chair and looked incredulously at the phone. Wondering if she had just heard Renji correctly. Of course, the question of why was on the tip of Rukia's tongue but after a minute of thought she shoved it down as fast as she could.

 

This was Renji she was talking to… Renji! Her second best friend in the entire world. They had grown up together, they had played at the same streams, they had thrown frogs at each other, they had suffered through school together, and in all fairness, Renji was her very first protector in this very large world.

 

A wave of guilt washed over Rukia's entire body as she thought of what she had just been about to tell him on the phone. She had been such a terrible friend over the past few years. Hell, once she went to college and he went to the police academy she barely contacted him outside of sending the odd birthday and Christmas card. She had practically ignored Renji for the last half decade. After everything they had gone through as children she just tossed him aside like a used tissue. The guilt in her stomach increased until she nearly felt sick from it.

 

“A movie?” She ended up croaking out; the guilt in her voice was keeping her from using a more definitive tone.

 

“Yeah… and if you want we can go out to dinner before.” He ended up coughing into the phone and Rukia cringed at the sharp sound.

 

“I—I guess so,” she said, biting her bottom lip and hoping that Ichigo didn't have any plans for her on Friday.

 

Wait… why would you think like that? Her brain spurted angrily. Ichigo doesn't control your life. Remember the deal? It's sex with no strings, whenever you two want it. If you're busy then he just has to deal with it!

 

The sharp, biting, voice inside of her head gnawed angrily on the outer fringes of her conscious and Rukia wrinkled her nose. She had to admit though, her brain did have a point.

 

Why shouldn't she have a day with Renji? She hadn't seen him—really spent some time with him—in nearly five years. Catching up with him would be fantastic. Really, he deserved it too; he was probably working double time to find her brother's shooter. Although it was technically his job to do so that didn't mean she couldn't give him a break.

 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice taking on a new fortitude that it hadn't exhibited a moment ago, “I'd like that, Renji. We need to catch up.” She reached across her desk and pulled out a post-it note and a pen. “What time do you want to meet and, for that matter, where do you want to meet?”

 

Renji, when he answered, sounded like he had just won the lottery, “Awesome! How about we meet at that bistro down the street from the police station at about six. We'll eat and then go see a movie at about seven. Sound good?”

 

“Sure does,” she scribbled the information down onto the pad and clicked the pen shut, “I'll see you then.”

 

“Right, see you then.” Renji's voice cut off as Rukia placed the phone back onto the holder.

 

A small grin appeared on her face as she thought of the night she'd have with her best friend—well, best male friend anyway, Momo would take offense to being a second anything. It would be really nice to talk to Renji just about, well… about life.

 

“Going somewhere?”

 

Rukia's head snapped up to Ichigo and she smirked softly, images of last night flipping through her head as though she was looking through a photo album. She turned her face back to her desk and began to rifle through more papers. “Yes,” she replied as she kept a small shudder away from her body. “On Friday I'm going to go see a movie with my friend, Renji.”

 

“The cop?”

 

“The detective, yes.”

 

A terse silence followed that one statement. It was then that Rukia finally glanced up and really, truly, looked at Ichigo.

 

His eyes were boring hotly into hers, his mouth was set into a rigid line, his eyebrows were curled downward in intensely angry curves, his shoulders were set back in tight lines, she could see his muscles flexing from under his suit, and his hands… his hands were gripping objects on his desk. The fingers on his left hand were curled into the armrest of his chair—where he was currently digging grooves into the poor, inanimate object—while his other hand was holding a now bent ballpoint pen.

 

She blinked twice and then frowned, “What's your problem?”

 

Ichigo's lips curled as he growled softly. Her spine stiffened slightly as she heard that threatening sound and she sat back a bit in her chair, studying his countenance even further. “I don't have a problem.” He snapped and swiveled back into his chair so that he wasn't facing her.

 

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him and pointed out, “You sound like there's something wrong with you.”

 

“And you would know, wouldn't you?” He shot back, punching a few keys in the keyboard.

 

For some reason his words stung Rukia. She relaxed her spine a bit but tightened her jaw. He was upset. She knew that much by looking at him. She just didn't know why he acting like such as ass when she was just trying to figure out what was wrong with him. It wasn't like she was intruding onto some really private part of his life. After all, she'd like to think that she knew him well enough. She could tell when he was horny from about a mile away.

 

“Fine,” she spat back, “Then nothing's wrong with you. Sorry for asking.”

 

She huffed and turned back to her computer. There was a tense and nearly unbearable silence between them for the rest of the day.

 

Even so, Rukia didn't see Ichigo glance up and give her the most painfully inscrutable look she had ever received. He simply turned away and tried to focus on work.

 

*~*~*

 

“Fuck… shit… damn it….”

 

Ichigo was cold. Ichigo was wet. Ichigo was cold and he was wet.

 

He didn't care though. He glanced down at his wristwatch and scoffed softly at the numbers that gleamed up into his darkened face. The misting rainwater that was falling all around the alcove he was standing under was reflecting onto its glassy surface.

 

It was six forty two.

 

His teeth clenched together as he stood outside. His back against the wall, he once again shot a deadly glare to the teenage boy sitting behind the ticket booth at the movie theater. The boy's eyes widened in annoyance and Ichigo just continued to glare. The kid's eyes rolled and he moved them back over to the elderly couple he was handing a pair of tickets to.

 

Ichigo just stuffed his hands into his pockets and continued leaning against the cold wall.

 

Barely two minutes later he raised his watch to his face and examined the tiny numbers once again. The face of his Rolex blinked back at him as he watched the tiny seconds hand slip up the face.

 

He rolled his eyes up to the top of his head and wondered if he had remembered what Rukia had said. That cop, Renji, had called on Monday, right? He distinctly remembered her saying that they were going to be meeting on Friday.

 

Yeah, Ichigo muttered inwardly, meeting for dinner and a… movie.

 

Ichigo looked at his watch once again—the damn thing had barely moved a nanometer—and sighed in exasperation. He shook his head once again before he stilled. A shot of fear raced through his stomach. His head shot up and he glared at the titles of the movies to choose from. Had he gotten the movie theater right? He might have had the time but what if the two had decided to not go this particular movie theater?

 

Ichigo ran his hand through his unruly mop of hair and snarled, forcing his brain to think back; how many movie theaters were in this particular area of town? He knew that this guy Renji was a cop so wouldn't it make sense for them to go to a movie theater nearest to the police station? He did a mental run-down and nodded curtly. This was the only theater in the area, he was sure of it.

 

Unless…

 

Ichigo's treacherous mind creaked again as he felt another whoosh of disgust whip through his stomach.

 

Unless they had decided to forgo the movie theater all together and go back to Rukia's place.

 

Ichigo tensed his jaw. Hell, his entire body was tense. He felt like if a single feather were to fall on him he would end up snapping into a million little pieces.

 

Breathe, Ichigo told himself forcefully, damn it man you need to breathe. Rukia wouldn't let that happen. She has better standards than that.

 

He smirked at the thought and let out a wicked chuckle. He sighed tensely and rested his head against the stone as well. His skull was scratched by the rocky protrusions but he ignored the slight abrasions.

 

He just needed to start thinking clearly. He needed to stop acting like a—like a… well, a jealous boyfriend.

 

Because he certainly wasn't Rukia's boyfriend. She had pointed that out to him many times before. Hell, he had pointed that out to her even more. Like that one episode where he had thought she had told his family they were dating. He had practically screamed at her that they weren't exclusive. They weren't dating, they weren't together in any sense of the word, and as far as he knew they were sure as hell able to see other people if they wanted to.

 

He swallowed convulsively and nodded softly. That was right. He and Rukia were just using each other for sex. Random… hot… fantastic… mind-blowing… sex. She had made that amply clear the second time it had happened between them.

 

“…This is what I propose,” she whispered, “I propose that we come to some sort of arrangement. Sex with no strings. Just pure, carnal, absolute, pleasure. Nothing more and nothing less, whenever we feel like it.”

 

Sex with no strings. That was the arrangement between them. Nowhere did in her entire explanation did she say that they couldn't see other people.

 

Still, Ichigo could not ignore the small—infinitesimally small; maybe as large as a nanometer—part of his brain that never wanted her pure, sinful, body to be touched by hands that were not his. That part of his brain that never wanted her tight center to be penetrated by a length that wasn't his. That one part of brain that wanted to keep the picture-perfect face she made when she was having an orgasm solely to himself.

 

It wasn't that he wanted Rukia Kuchiki as a girlfriend… he just wanted her body to himself.

 

At least it made sense to him.

 

He scoffed and shook his head in disgust. He shouldn't even be thinking things like this, let alone be stalking Rukia to a movie theater.

 

“Why am I here?” He muttered, passing his hands through his hair once again. When an immediate answer was not given—and one wouldn't be unless the walls started talking—he ground the heel of his shoe into the ground and snarled, “Just what the hell am I doing here?”

 

He was making sure Rukia wasn't doing her best friend. That's what.

 

Maybe.

 

He was about to turn and go. After all, he had almost convinced himself that this was completely stupid. That this wasn't necessary. That Rukia could do whoever she wanted and that Ichigo could do the same. It really didn't matter to him. It wasn't part of theier deal.

 

That's when he heard it.

 

His head inched slowly to the side when it reached his ears. It was soft and tinkling—almost barely audible—but it was there. His head moved to the direction from which it had come and felt his jaw tightening. His throat worked to swallow as he stared at the woman coming towards him.

 

She's not coming towards me, he chastised himself stupidly, she's just moving in my general direction.

 

Still, he couldn't help but stare at her. In the misting water that swirled around her face his throat was suddenly dry and his chest was tightening slightly. She looked ethereal as she walked across the street, holding her jacket close around her body. Her black hair was plastered to her white skin, her cheeks and the tip of her nose was tinted with pink, and her shoulders were hunched forward. Ichigo felt his chest cave even more when he let his eyes scan over her entire body. The way she looked tonight made him think of taking off all of her clothes and pushing into her until she was screaming his name.

 

Only… his name.

 

That was when his eyes slid over to the man walking at her side. He was grinning, his wide lips splayed into a large smile, showing rows upon rows of glittering teeth. Ichigo's eyes moved up to his head and he immediately wrinkled his nose. Over the tan skin on the man's face—or at least he thought it was tan, it was raining and dark—were wild patterns of tattoos that looked to resemble tribal markings. His sanguine hair was tied back into a random ponytail and stuck into the air despite being wet. It looked like he hadn't been wearing a jacket for a while either. His upper-body was encased in a tight—and now wet—tee shirt that exposed the ribbed and bulging muscles of his chest. A loose jacket was hung off of his broad shoulders but it wasn't zipped, despite the nearly-freezing weather. Ichigo glowered angrily when he saw how the sleeves of the jacket were raised just so in order to show off his bulging forearms. Ichigo felt his lips raise in a small snarl as he fought back the urge to lunge at the man and rip his head off of his body.

 

He also happened to notice just how closely they were standing together. Rukia's arm would occasionally brush up against that of that mans' and both of them would look at each other when it happened. Rukia would laugh and the bastard would look off quickly. Hell, it looked like he was fucking blushing.

 

He quickly ripped his eyes away from the sight in front of him and found himself staring at the list of movies being offered for tonight. Growling softly he dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He held it tightly in his fists as he stared blankly at the list of mediocre movies playing. He just needed to wait for it…

 

Wait for it…

 

He heard the two sets of footsteps pull to a stop behind him and slowly felt a small smirk curling onto his lips. He drew in a deep breath as he allowed his body to relax a bit. He just needed to appear calm… cool… nonchalant… He crossed his arms over his chest and started to tap his foot lightly, as if suffering through a moment of indecision.

 

Wait for it…

 

“Ichi—Kurosaki?”

 

The smirk widened as he quickly jerked his shoulders up slightly—a practiced motion he had mastered in order to entertain many ladies who liked to tell him frightfully dull stories and expected him to pay rapt attention—and sharply turned his head towards Rukia Kuchiki, his eyebrows raised slightly.

 

“Rukia?” He said, a surprised note coating the edges of his voice. He twisted the rest of body towards her and lowered one eyebrow. “Hey, what's up?”

 

He fucking wished he had a camera with him right now. The expression on Rukia's face was so priceless. He had to fight not to burst out laughing at the widening of her eyes, the slight drop in her mouth, and the tiny twitching of her nose. The corners of his lips itched to move upwards but he controlled himself as best he could.

 

She parted her lips just a bit and blinked at him. “What's… up?” She frowned softly. Her hands came down from her jacket and she frowned heavily at him, her head angled to give her glare even more potency but Ichigo steeled himself for such a look.

 

“Yeah.” He turned to her completely and allowed one edge of his mouth to quirk up. He didn't even bother to look up at her companion when he spoke to her. “I didn't know you were coming to watch a movie.” He paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side. “Which one? I'm trying to choose myself.”

 

“We haven't decided,” the deep voice next to Rukia said in a low tone.

 

Ichigo pointedly ignored the man for two exceedingly long seconds before looking over at him and raising one eyebrow. He stood stoically while the large, red-haired, man extended a tensely muscled hand towards him. Ichigo brought his own hand out and nearly felt the cords of his muscles snapping under the pressure. He gripped this man's—Renji Abarai's—hand just as tightly as he was gripping Ichigo's. Ichigo's solidly dark glare met his and he could have sworn that a bolt of lightning passed between them.

 

“Renji Abarai,” he ground out, his hand still gripping Ichigo's with the strength to bend iron, “I work over at the Twenty Eighth Police Precinct about a block or two away.”

 

If he was waiting for Ichigo's eyes to flick down to the badge he was no doubt wearing on his belt—along with a semi-automatic weapon—he didn't even blink.

 

“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he responded instead, gripping Renji's hand with enough force to shatter steel, “I'm a corporate attorney with Suigetsu Inc. I work with Rukia.”

 

And I do so much more to her in our free time, he wanted to add sadistically. He settled for slowly releasing Abarai's bent fingers from his grip.

 

“Ah,” the red-haired man said in a tense voice, straightening slightly. Ichigo made sure to keep an eye on his right hand while he spoke. Sure enough, the Renji twitched it a few times, as if he was trying to stretch out a few kinks. Ichigo didn't move his hand. “She's never mentioned you.” He made a point of turning to Rukia and moving just a mite closer. “You work with this guy?” He asked her, jerking his thumb in Ichigo's direction.

 

Ichigo turned his attention to Rukia and simply grinned ruefully while she glared icily at the two adult men in front of her. She crossed her arms over her chest and set her voice into a wickedly jarring tone, “Yes, Renji, I work with him. Yes, Kurosaki, we are going to a movie. No, you two may not act like cave men and try to break one another's arms.” She stepped in between them and gave them each glares, “Got it?”

 

“I'll behave if he does.” Ichigo muttered darkly, casting a glare in her companion's direction while Rukia huffed off to examine the movies that were playing. Ichigo watched her go and allowed himself a minute to stare at how tight her ass looked in that particular pair of jeans. He grinned softly to himself when he thought of getting her alone in a room and biting her perfectly formed bottom.

 

He sighed softly and turned back to her friend. The tattoo-freak's eyes were following him as his gaze moved from Rukia and back. By the time Ichigo looked at him, however, Detective Abarai pulled back his coat and revealed a nine millimeter fitting snugly on his hip.

 

Ichigo just smirked. “Nice gun. Pretty big too.”

 

“Does the job,” Renji intoned darkly, “Anytime, anywhere, anyone.” His eyes flickered to Rukia and then back to Ichigo after a lingering second.

 

His hands itched to tear Renji's lungs out of his chest but he gritted his teeth together instead. After taking a single, calming, breath and smirking he nodded in the general direction of the detective's weapon. “Might do the job but I here it's just too quick sometimes.” Ichigo looked up to Renji's coloring face and raised one eyebrow, “Heard it jams a lot too.”

 

Renji took a threatening step forward, “You son of a—”

 

Ichigo was about to unleash the entirety of his mixed martial arts training on this prick when Rukia's voice cut between the two of them like a hot knife through butter. “We're seeing that new drama with that blond actress who had a breast implantation a few months ago.” She clipped.

 

Renji jerked his face towards hers and quickly back to Ichigo. Rukia was staring pointedly at the space of air between the two tense men.

 

Ichigo glared at Renji for a minute before watching him take the ticket out of Rukia's hand, his fingers brushing hers lightly, and smiling contemptuously. “Thanks Ruki.” He said, an obvious sneer dripping from his voice.

 

Hot rage filled Ichigo's stomach the moment his little appellation for his fucking woman was spouted from that circus freak's mouth.

 

He didn't even bother to correct himself in thinking that Rukia was his woman. Right now it didn't matter. He needed to show that bastard just who he was dealing with.

 

Actually, Ichigo thought furiously, this really doesn't have anything to do with Rukia. Sure I don't want her around this guy but that's just because he's an arrogant prick who deserves to have his nuts removed with a fork. She's not mine and I don't own her but… god damn it! As long as that fucking agreement is still going on and I'm her personal sex toy… she's going to be mine!

 

Ichigo snapped his head over to Rukia as she let out an exasperated sigh, muttered the word `men,' turned on her heels, and entered the theater in a few huffing steps. Renji followed after her like a little puppy and—as he pushed open the doors to the theater—shot a swift and smug look back at Ichigo.

 

His limbs were on fire as he stood still. Cold air whipped around him and chapped at his fisted hands. He was quite sure that at least two of his molars were broken from clenching his jaw so hard. He didn't care. His heart was racing too fast for him to care.

 

As long as that fucking agreement is still going on and I'm her personal sex toy… she's going to be mine!

 

He'd made his decision.

 

He strode up to the ticket booth and slammed a ten dollar bill down onto the counter. The teenage boy who had been secretly watching him for the last thirty minutes jumped nearly three inches into the air. His skin became a sickening shade of green and tiny droplets of sweat began to pool on his upper lip—an upper lip which was already covered with bits of peach fuzz.

 

“Give me a ticket to whatever they went to,” Ichigo growled menacingly, jerking his head in the direction where Rukia and Renji had disappeared.

 

The kid's sweaty fingers fumbled with the buttons on the machine as he pulled out a ticket and handed it to the half-crazed looking man before him. Ichigo took a moment to pride himself on the effectiveness of his `insane expression.' Sure the hell worked on this stupid kid.

 

“H-Here y-you go-o.” The boy squeaked.

 

Ichigo jerked the ticket away and didn't even bother waiting for his change before storming into the theater. It was as if he were wearing horse blinders. He growled softly as he found the correct theater, shoved himself inside, and wildly searching the insides.

 

There.

 

Grinning like an idiot Ichigo slid stealthily behind his woman and that damned fucking bastard.

 

*~*~*

 

Ichigo didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or… yeah, okay, he wanted to laugh. Hard too. Until his sides spilt. Until breathing was no longer an option.

 

It had nothing to do with the movie he was supposedly viewing, hell he didn't even know what the damn film was about. Instead of the movie he was watching the man right in front of him.

 

He was watching him squirm, that is.

 

Oh but it was fun. Ichigo grinned as he saw the heavily twitching muscles in Renji Abarai's arms and smothered another snicker as he accidentally bumped one of his knees against the back of his chair.

 

Again.

 

Another vein in his neck started to pulsate and his shoulders started to shake.

 

Ichigo had to fight against a cramp that was threatening to rest in his abdomen from smothering his sadistic laughter. Although he had to give the guy some credit. It had been at least twenty minutes before he had started to show any signs of irritation.

 

That had been twenty five minutes ago.

 

Ichigo felt his body convulse into fits of silent laughter as he kicked the back of Abarai's chair once again. He grinned and pressed a hand to his forehead when he saw the color on his face go up another hue. His face was now some sort of mottled green.

 

It went just perfectly with his hair.

 

Okay, so perhaps he was being just a bit more childish than he should have been but honestly, he really couldn't find it in himself to stop. Ichigo was—after all—protecting what was—for now—rightfully his. The bastard had tried to put his arm around Rukia's should at least three times. Of course, a swift kick to the back of his chair usually relayed Ichigo's message that he was going to burn in the seventh circle of hell before he allowed that to happen.

 

The bastard was persistent though. He had tried it at least two more times before he had looked behind him, glared like a constipated gorilla, and turned furiously back to the movie. Ichigo knew he wasn't paying attention to the film though. He was probably thinking of at least forty different ways to murder him and dispose of the body without getting caught.

 

Still, Ichigo wasn't going to stop until the bastard was out of Rukia's sight. His mind darkened when he thought of actually following Rukia home just to make sure.

 

Whoa, Ichigo snorted inwardly, when the hell did you get so possessive?

 

He rolled his eyes and leaned his head back to the ceiling of the theater. In truth, he didn't even know the answer to that question… and he was the one asking. Ichigo sighed in irritation and wondered if he was going insane.

 

It wasn't that he was being possessive of Rukia… it was more or less that he really, really, really, didn't like this guy. He was a cop, he had a gun, and he was at least three times bigger than Rukia. If he put those things together and added in a bit of sadistic thinking—including the fact that this guy was totally and completely, totally, and hopelessly in love with Rukia Kuchiki. Honestly, if he were to want something and if she were to tell him no… Christ, if he didn't like that answer… well… Rukia could get really hurt if this guy decided to do something.

 

So really, he was just trying to make sure that something didn't happen to her. After all, it wasn't that hard to imagine. Ichigo's brain ran through everything that had happened since the two of them had showed up at the theater. That bastard must have known there was something going on between Rukia and Ichigo. He must have known through the way Ichigo carried himself, the way his eyes watched her, and the way Rukia had almost said his first name with complete confidence, only to stop short because of the company.

 

An emotionally damaged man with a gun could cause a whole lot of pain.

 

And then there was also the whole love thing to consider.

 

Ichigo's eyes zeroed in on the back of Renji's head and he clenched his teeth together. He could see it in the way he followed her around, he could see it in the way he blushed whenever they accidentally brushed their skin together, and he could see it in the way his eyes would glaze over while looking at her, it was as if he was imagining what, exactly she would look like without any clothes on.

 

Ichigo kicked Renji's chair once again, a bit more viciously than before. No one was going to see Rukia naked—at least in the foreseeable future—except for him.

 

A sudden movement directly before him brought Ichigo's attention to the two people sitting only a few inches away from him. His body tensed up in case he ended up having to kick Abarai's ass all over the theater. His eyes zeroed in and he glared in Renji's general direction before realizing that it was not Renji Abarai who had moved.

 

Rukia's small body was standing rigidly in front of him and he felt his jaw clenching slightly at the sight. With terrifying slowness, she twisted her upper body around and set her pulsating eyes upon his face. Ichigo's blood chilled as he saw the supernatural glow that came from a combination of the movie screen and her eye color rake across his body. The shimmer from the movie gave her gaze a sheen that should've been only found in otherworldly galaxies.

 

He pushed his body back into his seat and glared at her as she deftly placed one leg over the top of her chair and swung her body onto Ichigo's level of the theater. An image of her straddling his lap and riding her right in the middle of the theater came into his mind and Ichigo's fingers itched to grasp for her hips.

 

Rukia's hands, however, were grasping for something of their own. Several of her fingers found Ichigo's left ear and began tugging with an unnatural force. It took all of his pain-suppression powers to keep from yelling at the fire now racing through his head. However, while he was still occupied with her treatment of his ear, he failed to notice that her second hand had come and grasped the very front of his shirt. With painful jerks on both ends, she pulled him up out of his seat and sent him stumbling after her on their way out of the theater.

 

Neither one of them said a word—Ichigo didn't say anything because he was trying to keep a stream of curses from reaching the ears of the many matrons in the movie theater's audience and he could only guess that Rukia was staying silent because she was pissed as hell—until Rukia pushed the doors to the theater open with her foot and shoved both of them through.

 

That's when Ichigo began. “Ow! Fuck Rukia let go!” He growled.

 

She increased her grip on his ear and he wondered if she was going to rip it away from his fucking head.

 

“Rukia,” he growled, tugging against her now, “Let the fuck go.” He demanded, his feet still following her as she walked them towards the theater's exit. People stared at their compromising position as they passed and Ichigo swore that he heard a few teenagers tittering near the confessions stand. He didn't care though, he was just trying to keep his ear attached to his head. Rukia didn't pay any mind to them either; her feet were getting faster and faster until she was almost jogging towards the exit.

 

Ichigo cursed as he moved and fought to keep back all the vile names he wanted to call her.

 

The cool air greeted them as Rukia shoved open the doors to the outside and pushed Ichigo through it. He glanced up at the ticket booth and saw the same kid who had sold him the ticket sitting there reading a dirty magazine. The kid looked up, saw Ichigo's livid expression, and immediately shoved the porno underneath the counter.

 

Ichigo didn't get another glance at him before Rukia's hands were on his chest and pushing him back into the brick wall—hard.

 

He landed with a grunt and then felt a small hand sear across the side of his face. The force of her slap and the cold of the air doubled the pain and he hissed angrily.

 

Rukia wasn't finished though, “What the fuck are you doing?” She screamed furiously, her eyes bright with anger and her face colored red.

 

Ichigo didn't even have time to admire just how fucking attractive she looked when she was angry before one of her hands balled into a fist and went pummeling into his gut.

 

His abdomen muscles contracted and he angrily pushed himself off from the wall. He stood to his full height and towered over the vicious little midget as she stared up at him. Despite her size she had the expression of a bear that had just been shoved out of its winter's sleep a little too early.

 

He didn't give a fuck though. She couldn't just slap him and punch him and decide that it was okay to go out on a date and not expect him not to do something about it! It just wasn't right!

 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He repeated just as vehemently, “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Her eyes narrowed even more and he could swear that he heard her teeth grinding together. “What?” She demanded, her tone as deadly as deadly as a set of knives in the hands of a masochist.

 

“Don't act like you don't know what the hell I'm talking about,” Ichigo seethed, jabbing a finger back to the movie theater angrily. “Why the fuck are you out with some circus freak who likes to parade around as a cop?”

 

“Detective,” Rukia growled.

 

“Ring master.”

 

“Renji,” she snarled, “Is one of my closest friends.” She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step forward until they were only a foot apart. “As you keep frequently telling me, I don't have many friends, so excuse me for wanting to see one of them tonight.”

 

“Why isn't Momo with you then,” Ichigo shot back, “If this is an outing between friends?”

 

Her fists were once again down by her waist but her arms were rigid. His breathing was hard and he realized that she was shaking angrily.

 

“What is fucking wrong with you?” She demanded in a voice suited for only the inner circles of hell. Her hand shot out and she pointed back to the theater. “I'm going out with a friend! A friend! This should not concern you at all!”

 

“It doesn't!” He shouted back, his face barely an inch away from hers.

 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Rukia screamed, both of her fists came up to his shoulders and jarred him backwards. Ichigo stumbled slightly and snarled angrily. Her breath came out in choppy bursts as she gritted her teeth together, “You made the rules too, remember? We are not boyfriend and girlfriend. Are not and never will be, you made that explicitly clear when your family kidnapped me. You have absolutely no say in what I do or who I choose to spend my time with.”

 

I should, Ichigo's mind raged, his angered thoughts running like wildfire in his mind. He had to bite his tongue so the words would not come out.

 

Instead, he did something that he probably shouldn't have done. It was probably just the result of a combination of things—the weather, waiting for so fucking long outside of the damn theater, the fact that Rukia was actually on a date, and Rukia's date in general. It was just way too much for one guy to handle in a single night. His temper was frayed beyond normal limits and he really should not have been held accountable for his actions.

 

That's what Ichigo was thinking the moment he grabbed the back of Rukia's head and pulled her mouth to his. Her eyes were wide in surprise and her mouth opened in an infinitesimal gasp the moment she realized what he was doing. Ichigo knew he shouldn't have, but he took advantage of the small part in her petal lips and drove in, hard and fast. His breath was hot on her mouth as he kissed her as hard as he could.

 

Her hands came up to his shirt and fisted in the material as he punished her with his lips. A weak moan came from the back of her throat as he touched his tongue along the line of hers. He tilted his head to the side and began to caress the sides of her face with the pads of his thumbs. Their noses were crushed together and Ichigo was quite sure that he might just give Rukia an unwanted bruise. But he didn't care.

 

He needed to show her.

 

He was beginning to kiss her even harder when he felt a horribly sharp pain on his bottom lip. “Shit!” He gasped, releasing Rukia's mouth from his and then taking one hand away from her head to touch the throbbing spot on his face.

 

Rukia didn't waste a single second. She pushed her fisted hands against the hard wall of his chest and forced him back against the wall, simultaneously taking three steps away from him. Ichigo snarled at the lack of her body pressing against his and felt his lip once again. When he pulled his fingers back he found a dark red liquid splashed against the tan skin.

 

He jerked his head up and glared at Rukia like he had never glared before, “You bit me.” He growled, half in fury, half in disbelief.

 

“Yes,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. Her chest was heaving underneath her shirt and Ichigo's eyes narrowed when he saw twin protrusions from her nipples through her clothing. “I did.”

 

Ichigo ground his teeth together and let his silent question stand for itself.

 

“You can't do that Ichigo,” Rukia said in a voice that was low and managed. Her inscrutable eyes were trained on his as he watched her, “You can't just decide that I belong to you whenever you want. Remember our arrangement? I'm not breaking it. If anyone is, it's you.” She took another step forward and pulled her voice down even lower until it was nothing more than a snarling growl. “I am going to go back inside. I swear to God Ichigo Kurosaki if you follow me I will never forgive you. I will end our arrangement completely, I will find another lover, and I will flaunt him in front of you every chance that I get.” Her feet moved again until she was right in front of him once more. She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at his livid face, “I might even take Renji home with me and there's nothing you can do about it.”

 

With that Rukia turned on her heel and marched back into the movie theater.

 

Ichigo watched her go until he could no longer see any lingering part of her body. His entire form was shaking with anger. Balling his hands into fists he spun around and walked furiously out into the cold rain.

 

He could only see red.

 

*~*~*

 

The moment Ichigo entered the office on Monday morning Rukia's desk was the first place he looked. She had heard the door being flung open and her head had shot up to look at him.

 

Ichigo gritted his teeth and stood in the doorway, his hand poised on the knob and his fingers flexing around the quickly warming metal. Rukia was sitting stiffly in her chair. Her body was turned towards him in an unyielding manner. She looked like if she would move a single inch she would break apart completely.

 

Ichigo slowly took a step inside and closed the door behind him. His eyes ran languidly over every part of her body that he could see. He made sure to look at her face, her neck, her shoulders, her chest, her stomach, and her legs, all the way down to the stylish yet functional shoes poking out of the underside of the desk. The entirety of her body stiffened as he gazed at her. He watched as a small shudder ran down her spine but even that small motion was suppressed. It was as if she didn't want to move until his eyes were completely finished devouring her.

 

Ichigo swallowed once and glanced away.

 

He didn't look at her again for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

(A/N: First and foremost, this chapter is dedicated to Zapenbits, who has been with this story—and reviewing for it on both accounts on which it is posted—since the beginning. You rock!

 

Secondly, I had difficulty with this chapter. All in all I'm not sure I'm pleased with how it turned out but, ah, what can you do?

 

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!

 

And to all you faithful IchiRuki shippers out there, don't forget, Bleach Fade to Black is coming out in Japan December 13th! Woot woot! I say fieldtrip! Too bad everyone else won't be able to see it until September. :`(

 

On a separate note… MY BIRTHDAY IS IN 11 DAYS!!! WOOOOOO!

 

LOVETH YOU ALL AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!!)