Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Seireitei Monogatari ❯ Is This Seat Taken? ( Chapter 23 )

Title: Is This Seat Taken?

Pairings/Characters: Aizen, Ichigo, Tousen, Gin

Rating: T (for gropage of the M/M kind)

Warning: Rampant OOC. Very bad innuendo. (Come on! It's Gin; what do you expect?)

Words: 2, 655

Description: Sort of a prequel to Drabble 6: I Surrender

 

A yawn attacked him, but Ichigo fought back with a well-won firm stretch of his arms, easing muscles that threatened to cramp. It was never that smooth of a transaction from body to spirit and back to body again. Especially if he let Kon's strange self fit awkwardly into the nice little niche Ichigo had created for himself. Luckily this time, he had had no need for the modified soul.

 

That didn't make him any less tired. Out for his morning stroll, the underlying whirr of a Hollow had caught his attention, close to a school yard where it could harm any young child. And like a true hero, Ichigo had raced to the rescue. Of course, a ridiculous three-second fight later, he was wondering where all the challenge had gone. Aizen was only sending them his cast-offs to fight.

 

Frankly, it was boring.

 

Cracking his neck and ignoring the stares of idle passersby, Ichigo contemplated returning home for breakfast. Except that he knew goat-face was there, and he didn't relish another conversation about inane things.

 

It was then that his eyes happened to catch sight of an outdoor café, pleasant smells wafting from its general direction. Intrigued, Ichigo turned his steps towards it, only to freeze in utter and complete surprise.

 

Did his eyes deceive him? Was that really none other than Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tousen sitting at a table and eating breakfast, as if they were not attempting to take over Soul Society and by proxy the world?

 

Well, truthfully, Tousen seemed to be the only one eating.

 

He blinked and rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear away what was most certainly an apparition. Only, it didn't disappear. He blinked again, looked around to see if there were other random Shinigami appearing, who could also view this spectacle.

 

None did, of course.

 

He tried pinching himself, as he had once heard Keigo suggest in a fit of stupidity. And blinked again.

 

Yet, they remained.

 

There was no choice left but to confirm it.

 

Steeling his resolve, Ichigo stepped towards the table and gestured towards the one empty chair. “Is this seat taken?” he asked as pleasantly and not “what the fuck are you doing in my town?” as he could muster.

 

Both Ichimaru and Aizen looked up at his arrival, pretending as if they hadn't already recognized his constantly leaking reiatsu and raising their eyebrows. The brunet grinned as did Ichimaru, smiles that made Ichigo slightly uncomfortable as they seemed to be tainted with lecherously. But it could have just been in his imagination. The silver-haired male reached over and pulled out the chair in invitation.

 

“What's going on?” Tousen asked, frowning slightly in confusion. “I can't see. Who is it, Gin?”

 

Ichigo shot the man a strange look that he couldn't see since his reiatsu was practically leaking from his pores, but Aizen smoothed it over.

 

“It's Kurosaki-kun. You remember, don't you, Kaname?”

 

“Joinin' us fer breakfast, Ichi-chan?” Gin asked with another wide grin as he gestured towards the seat, catching Ichigo's attention.

 

Surreptitiously looking around as if expecting Rukia to pop out of the bushes at any moment, Ichigo slowly slid into the seat. He half-expected the Arrancar as well, thinking they would pop out of the ground like daisies when his back was turned. He was especially on the look out for the helmet guy and the blue-haired freak; he couldn't remember their names.

 

It was then that a waiter appeared out of nowhere, vaguely resembling Hitsugaya and Ikkaku's love child, to hand him a menu. Ichigo blinked, accepted it, but didn't look, setting it down on the table in front of him. He returned his attention to the others as the waiter scurried away, staring in slight discomfort. Aizen had his usual smile, while Gin flipped through the menu. Tousen was calmly eating his breakfast as if nothing out of the usual was occurring, seemingly unconcerned with Ichigo's presence.

 

“So… come here often?” Ichigo asked somewhat warily; the silence that had settled not exactly unnerving just… there.

 

Aizen's smile widened. “From time to time. I recommend the Eggs Benedict. It is a western dish.”

 

That dark gaze centered on him, and for a moment, Ichigo felt as if Aizen were undressing him with his eyes. He unconsciously shivered, placing his hands in his lap as if it would protect him from x-ray vision.

 

“I like the French toast,” Ichimaru claimed, adding in his two yen's worth as he grinned with an obvious taste for something else. “With strawberry syrup.”

 

Ichigo shot the silver-haired man a look that was a mixture of confusion and wariness, but Ichimaru continued as nonchalant as before.

 

“Do you have a sweet tooth, Ichi-chan?”

 

The substitute Shinigami shook his head. “Umm, no. I'm not really hungry right now.”

 

But the moment the words left his mouth, his stomach released a growling roll of hunger, proving otherwise. Feeling his face burn with embarrassment, Ichigo stifled a groan of annoyance.

 

“Come now, Kurosaki-kun. Surely, you could enjoy a simple meal with us,” Aizen attempted to cajole, his voice strangely inviting.

 

Ichigo wondered if it was the same tone he used to weave Hinamori into his web of seduction. Then again, she was probably already insane to begin with.

Still, before he could respond, the Hitsukkaku waiter chose that moment to appear, slightly impatient and pen poised over his writing pad. Ichimaru and Aizen spouted off their orders faster than Ichigo could register, and then, those eyes were on him. He fidgeted under that annoyed stare because he hadn't once looked at the menu.

 

Running over both suggestions in his mind, neither of which sounded particularly appealing, he felt pinned on the spot. His stomach chose to protest his lack of food once more, and in a panic, Ichigo settled for ordering scrambled eggs and toast, also a western dish.

 

A smile, slightly frightening, took over Hitsukkaku's face as he bowed, gathered up the menus and promptly vanished into thin air, leaving them all alone. It wasn't until he pondered on his choice that he realized he had not a single bit of cash on him. He had left his wallet at home.

 

As if reading his mind, Aizen smiled, sending a shiver that was not interest down Ichigo's spine. “Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun. Breakfast is on us.”

 

Wary of his motives, Ichigo nodded his acceptance. He couldn't help but wonder why Aizen kept saying his name, practically purring the syllables and dripping them from rather kissable—

 

NO, he did not just think that. Nope, not him at all.

 

Silence fell. A fork scraped in the background as Tousen continued to eat, seemingly oblivious to the growing disquiet. Aizen and Ichimaru continued to watch every move Ichigo made like two overgrown hawks. He couldn't help but wonder why they were in Karakura in the first place. It wasn't as if Shinigami weren't on constant patrol.

 

`Maybe they were hungry,' his mind suggested.

 

His irrationality argued, `Or maybe they were looking for virgin sacrifices to further their cause.'

 

He had to suppress an “eep!” at that one.

 

`Maybe they have a fondness for western dishes?'

 

`Impossible.' His sensibility snorted. `They're obviously here to start trouble with their civilian clothes and distinct lack of zanpakutou…'

 

“Or maybe the food in Hueco Mundo sucks,” Ichigo muttered under his breath, ending that particular self-argument.

 

Ichimaru nodded vigorously, having heard that mumbled comment. “Everything tastes like sand,” he piped up.

 

Aizen, however, seemed to disagree. “It is actually rather decent. I am quite satisfied with both Ulquiorra's and Grimmjow's abilities in the kitchen.” The moment he spoke the word satisfied, his lips seemed to pull into a lecherous grin directed completely in Ichigo's direction.

 

For some reason, the thought of the Arrancar cooking made him vaguely queasy. “I see,” the boy responded warily, snorting at the thought of either cooking.

 

“Perhaps you could come by and visit one day, just for a taste, Ichi-chan.” Ichimaru tilted his head to the side, sparkly hearts fluttering around him. “We would love to have you for dinner.”

 

Ichigo didn't quite know what to think about that, pretty certain that that hadn't meant what he thought it meant. Luckily, the food arrived just then, saving him from having to make any brilliant comeback. In the background, a pained looked seemed to have taken over Tousen's face as he mumbled a word under his breath, Ichigo just barely managing to catch “justice” and the resulting glares from his companions it dredged.

 

As his food was set in front of him, Ichigo picked up his fork. It was then that he felt it, tentative at first and then gaining in confidence; a foot began to rub on the bottom of his leg. Thinking it an accident, Ichigo shifted, but it came back again, stronger than before. Caressing up and down his calf, sending tingles through his body. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out who it belonged to. Both Aizen and Ichimaru seemed guilty. And he was pretty certain it wasn't Tousen.

 

“Maybe some other time,” Ichigo finally responded, his voice strained. “I've got all this training to do in order to… uh…”

 

`Defeat you guys,' his mind reminded him nastily, but he didn't say that.

 

“…ummm… get stronger.”

 

To his horror and mortification, Ichimaru took that opportunity to grin and lean forward, reaching out with one thin hand and squeezing Ichigo's bicep. “But you're so muscular already, Ichi-chan,” he murmured, fingers lingering a bit on the soft cotton.

 

Embarrassed, his face turned a color to match Renji's hair, especially when the foot that he belatedly realized had no shoe started rubbing higher on his leg, aiming for the sensitive portion of his thigh. At that point, he figured it had to be Aizen since Ichimaru was much too close and didn't possess rubbery, bendy legs of doom. Ichigo snuck a look at Aizen, whose head was propped up on his hand. He was avidly watching the boy from beneath heavily lidded eyes, trying and failing to look innocent.

 

The whole event just seemed ridiculous.

 

Ichigo made a strangled sound, which was absolutely not panic, and no, he was not aroused at all. Not in the slightest. It was simply a natural body reaction, which happened to everyone. So he tried to think of all the things that should disgust him, his fingers tightening on his fork.

 

Like the shower! Yes, the shower. With a naked Sandal-and-Hat guy in it.

 

Only that didn't work.

 

Then, he thought of Renji, but tattoos and steam and red hair made it worse. He tried Byakuya since he hated the smug bastard. But the Kuchiki heir was rather attractive beneath his sneer with porcelain skin and full, pouty lips…

 

Ack! Bad thoughts. He was getting desperate.

 

Rukia! Yes, Rukia, naked with water everywhere…

 

And oh, god! He had nothing left but his trump card.

 

Goat-face singing in the rain with duckies and naked.

 

Ichigo felt a full body shudder attack him. Now, mildly under control, he managed to say something. But all that came out was a cough. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but it was then that the treacherously seductive foot finished its dangerous route and rose past the point of no return, nudging an already painful arousal. All that emerged from lips was a mortified squeak that was in no way related to a moan.

 

Ichimaru's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Yare, yare. I didn' know males could make that sound.”

 

“Is our guest all right?” Tousen asked, mildly perturbed, as if Ichigo's squeak had offended his usual sensibilities.

 

Aizen leaned forward. “You obviously have untouched potential, Kurosaki-kun. You only need a guidance, a nudge…” Insert gropage with foot here. “…If you will,” he finished.

 

Images were no longer effective. In an effort to cover both his embarrassment and his massive erection, Ichigo hurriedly shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. And promptly choked.

A cup of water was shoved in his face, nearly splashing over a pale hand. “Drink?” Ichimaru suggested.

 

Ichigo continued to choke.

 

“Oh, no!” the silver-haired man continued, feigning complete and utter worry. “I'll have ter perform mouth to mouth.” The last was said with a sadistic sort of glee that frightened the substitute Shinigami.

 

Ichigo swallowed down the huge mouthful of eggs and coughed. “No, no, I'm okay,” he said frantically, waving away the rapidly approaching Ichimaru.

 

“My… that was an awful big bite to swallow. Are you sure you are all right, Kurosaki-kun?” Aizen asked in his best “I'm pleasant and not about to molest you” voice.

 

Ichigo nodded vigorously and then promptly choked again when Ichimaru began licking strawberry syrup from his fork, incredibly long tongue sliding out of his mouth to caress the silverware in a seductive fashion. Even Aizen seemed impressed, both of them now avidly watching his show. Ichigo didn't even notice the foot groping him anymore.

 

It was then that Hitsukkaku brought their check, blasé about Ichimaru's talented tongue. Aizen discreetly snatched it from the table before anyone could offer. The foot caressed Ichigo one last time before disappearing, and the boy absolutely did not miss it. No way. Not at all. And no, he was not immediately going to go home and take a long, hot shower.

 

Cold! A cold shower. Very icy and steamy and no! Bad thoughts!

 

“I suppose that brings to an end to this luscious morning,” Aizen murmured, sounding faintly disappointed.

 

Ichigo blinked, now in complete disagreement with himself. He tore his eyes away from Ichimaru, who was still molesting his fork.

 

“Huh?” he commented brilliantly.

 

Brown eyes gleamed. “Well, I am sure that you are as busy as we are, and the morning is fading away on us.” Aizen rose to his feet, the chair scooting out behind him with barely a sound. “People to do, and things to see, after all.”

 

The boy nodded in sudden understanding. “Right.” He looked down at his partially eaten food but didn't feel so hungry anymore.

 

Abandoning his plate, he rose to his feet. “It was… fun?” he said, making it sound like a question as he half-shrugged.

 

Aizen laughed, and Ichigo has never heard a sound so charming.

 

Did he really just think that?

 

“Something like that,” the former captain replied. “I'm sure it will be even more so in the future.

 

At his words, Ichimaru and Tousen both rose to their feet as well, forks clattering to their plates.

 

“See ya, Ichi-kun,” Ichimaru announced with a wave of his hand as he fluttered away, the blind man trailing after him.

 

Ichigo half-heartedly waved back before turning his attention to Aizen, who was handing money over to Hitsukakku. The waiter had scurried up when the boy wasn't looking, and he couldn't help but wonder when this strange event would be over. Or why it had even begun.

 

Ichigo sighed to himself, his eyes than falling on Aizen's completely clean plate. In all of the molesting, when had he found time to eat?

 

With his distraction, Aizen approached him. It was his voice that disturbed Ichigo from his ponderings.

 

“See you next week, Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen murmured as he reached up and gently touched the younger male's face. Just the briefest brush of his fingers, but it made the substitute Shinigami hard all over again.

 

He was practically panting as the former captain turned away, murmuring under his breath, “It's a date.”

 

Ichigo nodded in a haze before he could figure out what the hell had gotten into him. Aizen was the enemy!

 

“Yeah, whatever,” he agreed distractedly, turning to walk away.

 

He got a good twenty feet from the café, still musing on the entire event when it suddenly hit him like a bolt of lightning. He paused mid-step, foot still hovering over the ground.

 

Wait? Next week? A date?

 

It wasn't until then that he realized he still didn't know why they were in Karakura in the first place.

 

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