Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Seireitei Monogatari ❯ #15: Rukia's Dating Service - Ikkaku ( Chapter 15 )

Title: Rukia's Dating Service - Ikkaku

Pairings: Ikkaku/Ichigo

Characters: Ikkaku, Rukia, Ichigo

Rating: T

Warning: Underage drinking! Cursing! Male/Male relationship! Also, I don't know how bars work in Japan, as I have obviously never been to one there.

Words: 3,128

Description: I said show him a good time, not land him in jail.

 

Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me. Tite Kubo has that honor. I am merely borrowing without permission.

 

 

Despite the first failure, Rukia was determined to find true love for Ichigo. And it wasn't so much that Renji was not a good match for Ichigo, as much as it was they were simply too similar for the type of love that the substitute shinigami needed. Perhaps it was also because Renji was young and still had that persistent crush on her brother. Either way, she had resolved to not let the first failure keep her from continuing.

 

Ichigo deserved to be loved after all.

 

Her next choice was Ikkaku. He was the first shinigami that Ichigo had made friends with in Soul Society, so it was only logical that she should progress to him. Besides, thanks to Yumichika, Ikkaku knew how to behave to an extent, and if anything, at least Ichigo would have some fun. Even if he was too young to do most of the things Ikkaku truly liked to do.

 

With her new choice firmly entrenched in her mind, she sought out Ichigo to tell him of his great luck. Predictably, he did not seem too enthused when she explained her plan.

 

Brown eyes shot her a disbelieving stare as Ichigo devoured the bento that Yuzu had prepared for him. “No.”

 

Rukia pouted, and even if it never really worked on him, it always worked on Orihime. Ichigo was a sucker for crying women.

 

“But, Ichigo,” she prompted in her sugary sweet voice, “I'm certain it will work out this time.”

 

He glared. “No.”

 

“What's going on?” Orihime chirped, munching on her own strange mixture of food, which Rukia didn't even want to contemplate. She shuddered just looking at it.

 

Calling up the waterworks, making her eyes all shimmery, Rukia turned towards her potential partner in crime. “Ichigo is soooo lonely; don't you agree, Orihime?” A very believable sniffle escaped her mouth as she wiped at a pretend tear. “And yet, he won't go on the special date I set up for him. All I want is his happiness.”

 

Ichigo's scowl immediately deepened, making him strangely resemble Hitsugaya-taichou but with orange hair.

 

Orihime, however, was deeply moved. “Oh, no,” she breathed, her eyes welling up as she clasped her hands in front of her. “That's terrible. Ichigo, how could you?”

 

“Manipulative bitch,” the boy mumbled under his breath. “Fine! I'll go on your stupid date.” He stabbed angrily at his bento with one chopped stick, picturing Rukia's head on the face of his umeboshi.

 

Rukia was unperturbed by his obvious reluctance and irritation. She sniffled quite convincingly as she and Orihime cheered. Ichigo glared at his bento, inwardly wondering just how bad the recriminations would be for killing Byakuya's sister. And people actually thought he was in love with the crazy ass bitch.

 

Ichigo sniffed. He actually pitied Renji, especially if he had been forced to put up with this for a couple decades.

 

A sudden thought occurred to him as he ventured a question, breaking through Rukia's and Orihime's celebratory hug. “Is Ikkaku even gay?”

 

Rukia smirked, a devilish glint shining in her eyes. “Not yet.”

 

Brown eyes blinked. “What?”

She waved him off with a flip of her wrist before trying to stab her straw into her juice box and having little luck. “Don't worry. I'm sure he'll fall prey to your charms.”

 

When he gave her a blank-faced and gaping stare, she sighed and turned away.

 

“Or maybe not.”

 

Then again, males did find attraction in the oddest of things.

 

* * *

 

Several hours later found Ichigo standing outside of the local McDonald's, tugging with much irritation at the collar to his shirt. It felt tighter than usual, not that his clothes weren't already form-fitting, and it rode up even higher on his stomach than he preferred. Not to mention that his pants felt as if they clung to every inch of his legs.

 

Rukia had thrown the clothes at him and then had promptly locked him out of his room, preventing him from seeking anything else to wear. He had considered breaking down his door for all of two minutes until his father had decided to get involved. The damn bitch had told him all about her plans, and after trying to go through his `Daddy Gay Sex Talk' again, Ichigo had elbowed the man in the face.

 

Unfortunately, such a blow was only enough to faze his father for a few stunned seconds. He had just enough time to pull on the offered items and dash out the door before his father recovered, tossing condoms in his wake.

 

This time they were grape-flavored, and Ichigo hated grape. Not that he would have taken them if they had been something else.

 

“Oy, Ichigo!” Ikkaku's voice rang out loud and clear.

 

Ichigo swiveled his eyes to find the older man waving at him from across the street. He was much relieved to find that Ikkaku had not been dressed by Rukia, and he probably had Yumichika to thank for that.

 

He would have to buy the man flowers or something.

 

Meanwhile, Ikkaku was crossing the road rather quickly, narrowly missing being hit by a very rude man in a small, bright yellow vehicle. After smashing the back with a firm whack of his wooden sword and gesturing violently at the driver, Ikkaku made his way to the other side unhindered.

 

“Yo,” Ichigo greeted with a brief wave of his hand.

 

Ikkaku grinned, balancing his sword on one shoulder. “Yo.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment, Ichigo fidgeting noticeably. Cars passed by, and the smell of fried foods filtered from the fast-food restaurant behind them.

 

“So,” Ichigo began slowly, inwardly cursing Rukia within an inch of her over-extended life. “What do you want to do?”

 

The third seat grinned again. “Let's head to a bar, ne?” he suggested with a crack of one of his knuckles. “Been a while since I knocked a few back just for the hell of it.”

 

Brown eyes blinked. “You have to be twenty,” Ichigo countered. Not that he wanted to be the one to spoil the fun, but it simply wasn't possible.

 

Ikkaku, however, waved him off. “No problem,” he declared, one hand digging into his pocket to produce an ID card, which he promptly waved under Ichigo's nose. “I've got ya covered.”

 

Somewhat warily, the substitute shinigami accepted the proffered item and peered at it. His own face stared back at him, albeit with black hair and a much nicer expression. The name Shiba Kaien was scrawled across the top, and Ichigo frowned, flipping the card back and forth in his hand. He wondered who the hell this guy was and why they looked so much alike.

 

And why did the name Shiba sound so damn familiar?

 

“How'd you get this?” he asked.

 

Ikkaku slung an arm over his shoulder as he started directing them down the street and in the direction of what Ichigo could only assume was a local bar. “Rukia found it for me, and Urahara-san fixed it up a bit. The date was a little off.”

 

If by a little off he meant a long fifty years. It was a good thing that the Japanese hadn't changed their ID style; otherwise, Ikkaku would have been sunk.

 

The younger man made a noncommittal sound in his throat, slightly worried since Sandal-and-Hat guy was involved. However, those thoughts faded when he finally took stock of their surroundings.

 

They were heading into the shadier part of town, where streetlights were fewer and gang members slunk out of the shadows. He found himself feeling a bit uncertain, despite the fact that he could take all of them out within seconds.

 

Swallowing thickly, cutting his eyes away from a guy that Ichigo swore was leering at him suggestively, he asked, “Are you sure that this was where you wanted to go?”

 

Ikkaku nodded enthusiastically. “Yep!” he answered.

 

His friend steered them towards a squat building that was shoved between two huge warehouses. Ichigo would have never noticed it on his own since it was so small, and he nearly did a double take at the sign hanging at an awkward angle from rusted nails, The Cock's Walk proudly displayed in English.

 

They paused outside, and Ichigo shot the dive a skeptical look.

 

“How did you hear about this place again?” the boy questioned, pretty sure that Ikkaku hadn't mentioned it before, but he wondered just the same.

 

The bald man shrugged. “Yoruichi?” he suggested before reconsidering as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his chin. “Or maybe Urahara-san. Does it matter?”

 

Inwardly, Ichigo gulped. His master, while a strong fighter, was one of the biggest perverts he had ever met, and that was including Keigo. He didn't feel in the least bit reassured.

 

Ikkaku prompted him forward, and trying not to drag his feet, Ichigo shoved his hands in his pockets and followed. The man at the door, who he could only assume was the bouncer, didn't even look up from his porno magazine as they walked by. He didn't bother to ask for ID either, which made Ichigo wonder why he even needed the fake one in the first place.

 

“Why did I need this again?” he asked as they stepped into the dark and smoky atmosphere, his lungs instantly seizing up. Everything seemed to be covered in a film of dirt and grime, and the odor permeating the air definitely wasn't fresh and clean.

 

He barely heard Ikkaku as the man mumbled something about Urahara wanting to play with his lamination machine as he led them to the equally crowded and dirtied bar. Shoving two sodden drunks from their precarious positions on stools, Ikkaku cleared them a space and gestured for Ichigo to sit. He did so, thinking that he should have gotten a hepatitis shot like Goat-Face had warned. In the meantime, the drunks crumpled to the ground and crawled away, seemingly not minding the trash that layered the wooden floor.

 

His gaze slid up and down the bar, taking stock of the other patrons, most of which looked as if they lived in The Cock's Walk. Except down on the far end, there was a woman who was vaguely good-looking, if Ichigo squinted. She was staring at them with little subtlety, basically raping them with her eyes. Ichigo shuddered before returning his own safely to Ikkaku, who didn't seem to notice the voracious female. Nope, the eleventh division shinigami was too busy trying to wave down the bartender.

 

“Whaddya want?” the man barked at them, smacking loudly on his gum. Before either could get their request out, his eyes suddenly flickered to another corner of the bar. “Yo, Linder, take that business outside unless I get a cut!”

 

“Got it, boss!” was the chirped response as a person, Ichigo couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, dragged another man out the back door. The door swung shut with a creak and a rattle behind them.

 

The bartender dragged his gaze back to them. “Well?” he grunted.

 

Ikkaku held up two fingers. “Whatever's on tap.”

 

The man nodded and moved to fetch their drinks as Ikkaku turned towards Ichigo. “That's fine with you?”

 

Brown eyes blinked. Ikkaku asked him that as if Ichigo had extensive experience in drinking and ordering alcoholic beverages.

 

“Yeah, sure. I love… whatever's on tap,” he responded vaguely, giving the man a strange look.

 

Ikkaku beamed.

 

That was that.

 

Twin plunks, a slight slosh, and two mugs were set in front of them, frothing at the top.

 

“Two o'the best,” the bartender drawled, again not checking any IDs before he wandered off to another hollering patron.

 

Ikkaku downed his in one gulp; Ichigo took his reluctantly. He peered at it with apprehension, wanting to think that the glass was clean but unsure in the smoky haze. It certainly appeared to sparkle. As he contemplated taking a sip, Ikkaku was already signaling for the second.

 

The noise of the bar was annoying in the background, but Ichigo found if he concentrated hard enough, he could block it out. A shiver ran up his spine as the unnatural feeling of being watched… no, not being watched… being ogled intently washed over him. Suddenly, the idea of tasting his “whatever's on tap” didn't seem too bad, and with some reluctance, he took a tentative sip.

 

Surprisingly, it was rather tasty. Raising both brows at this unexpected occurrence, Ichigo greedily sucked down another mouthful before noticing that Ikkaku was already reaching for a fourth. A fourth!

 

And the feeling of eyes on him wouldn't fade. A bit unnerved, Ichigo surreptitiously glanced around, keeping a firm grasp on his mug. He caught gazes with that woman again. She was still staring, and Ichigo belatedly realized that she was looked faintly familiar. She seemed disturbingly like that crazy cannon lady.

 

What was her name again? Kukucachoo? Kuukie? Kutchaka?

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to recall.

 

Ichigo frowned and spent the next few minutes trying to remember. He absentmindedly drank half of his beer, noticing that the bartender had stopped waiting for Ikkaku to signal. The man had started filling up glasses and lining them on the side.

 

And still, Ichigo wondered when the fun was supposed to occur. He absentmindedly reached for another beer, sucking down the last of his first.

 

Around the ninth beer for Ikkaku, the man wasn't even tipsy yet, Ichigo contemplated a third. However, Ikkaku nudged him with an elbow, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“Havin' a good time?” he practically hollered, even though it wasn't really that loud in the bar.

 

Ichigo shot him a look of clear disbelief, his ears ringing miserably. “We haven't done anything but drink.”

 

“Yer right.” Ikkaku yelled back. Then, he smirked, tossed back a tenth beer, and Ichigo grew wary. “Watch this.” He turned to the guy sitting on his right. “Hey, you.”

 

Ichigo blinked, wondering what was supposed to be so interesting.

 

The man, already completely sodden, turned slowly with a half-doped look on his face. “Wha--”

 

Slam!

 

Ikkaku punched him in the face without another word, a bark of laughter escaping his lips. Ichigo's eyes widened as the nameless man fell in what seemed to be in slow-motion, knocking directly into the guy just behind him and crashing to the floor. This other stranger immediately whirled around.

 

“Wha th'fuck!”

 

Realizing the perpetrators, Drunk #2 reeled back an unsteady fist and aimed for Ikkaku, but he missed rather unspectacularly and caught a stunned Ichigo in the shoulder. Pain blossomed as Ichigo grunted and stumbled off of his bar stool into the man next to him.

 

This man, jostled into spilling his beer, immediately cursed and sprang forward, leaping over the sprawled boy and attempting to tackle Ikkaku. Grinning, the bald man ducked and watched as Drunk #3 sailed over his head and landed in a sprawling mess onto Drunk #4. A table crunched. More alcohol was spilled.

The entire bar went silent and still for an instant.

 

Then, all hell broke loose.

 

With drunken and mumbled cries of rage and inebriation, an all-out brawl began. Ichigo barely had time to haul himself to his feet before he was dodging a flying fist. He took out that drunk with a punch to the belly as he simultaneously avoided an angrily swung barstool. Beside him, Ikkaku was grinning like a fool as he shamelessly beat his opponents like they owed him money. He downed another beer, somewhat swaying on his feet.

 

Some guy soared over Ichigo's head, despite the fact that he was standing.

 

Glasses crunched. The lights flickered. The bartender had taken refuge behind the bar, and Ichigo was sure that the strange woman was stalking their direction.

 

He twisted to avoid a flying table.

 

And somehow, in the chaos, Ikkaku managed yet another beer.

 

- - - - -

 

Looking at the two males on the other side of the bars, Rukia could only shake her head and cluck her tongue. She placed both hands on her hips as she regarded their disheveled, torn clothing and blackened eyes with some wonder. Beside her, keys rattled as the policemen opened up the lock.

 

“I said show him a good time, not land him in jail,” she reprimanded sternly as both trudged out of their cold cell. Still, a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

 

Ikkaku shot her a baleful stare as she shrugged. “She didn't look like no cop.”

 

Trailing along behind him, Ichigo was rubbing at his head. The lights were too bright, and his head pounded as if Yachiru had been chewing on it. Still, he was glad that Rukia had come to bail them out and not his father. That was one thing he didn't think he could have handled this morning, hangover or no.

 

“Honestly,” Rukia was saying as she led them through the police station, heading for the exit. She had already collected their belongings, including the fake ID that had miraculously survived the cops' inspection. “What part of this was romantic?”

 

“You didn't say nothing about romance,” Ikkaku said. “Just fun.”

 

They went by the front desk, and Ichigo noticed with some horror that the woman, who hadn't looked like a cop but more like that crazy cannon lady, was perched behind it. As they passed, she grinned and gave both males a saucy wink.

 

Ichigo shuddered and put on a burst of speed, remembering an unwelcome grope. He thanked Kami that she hadn't had time for a body search because he was certain she would have enjoyed it far too much.

 

Ikkaku remained oblivious.

 

Ichigo was certain that the man was gay.

 

The three stepped out of the station, Rukia still blathering on, but Ichigo had long learned how to tune her out. Blinking in the bright sun, his head pounding like he had spent the last two hours listening to Yamamoto prattle on, Ichigo's response time was significantly lessened.

Therefore, when “My baby's all grown up!” reverberated across the parking lot, he was too slow to block the arms that were thrown around his body, nearly suffocating the life out of him.

 

He recognized the tone, of course. Isshin had come after all.

 

Unamused and with a move that would have made any Kurosaki proud, Ichigo shimmied out of his father's crushing grip. A high, roundhouse kick across the chin, and Ichigo was proudly stepping on his father's twitching form, heading for the car. Ikkaku and Rukia were already waiting for him there.

 

Ichigo slid behind the steering wheel, not trusting either Ikkaku or Rukia's driving skills, and started towards home.

 

In the backseat, he distinctly heard Rukia mutter, “And I'll bet he's still not been kissed.”

 

His eyebrow twitched.

* * *