Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Happy Ending	By : Ardespuffy Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Hitsugaya/Ichigo Views: 2079 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Happy Ending
- 2-Teaser
- 3-One
- 4-Two
- 5-Three
- 6-Four
- 7-Five
- 8-Six
- 9-Seven
- 10-Eight
- 11-Nine
- 12-First
- 13-Second
- 14-Third
- 15-Fourth
- 16-Fifth
- 17-Sixth
- 18-Seventh
- 19-Eighth
- 20-Ninth
- 21-Tenth
- 22-Eleventh
- 23-Twelfth
- 11
- 12
- 13
REMEMBER! The events taking place in this chapter and the ones to come follow after "Lust Time".

.

It had started off innocently enough.
"A party, ya say? When?"
"In a fortnight. Ise-san of the Social Events Organization committee has asked for my help with this since she's so busy all the time babysitting that weird old Kyoraku man – what should a young, smart girl such as herself want to do with a jackass like that, it really is ahead of me! – and you know how crazy things got over Christmas hols at the committee, I just couldn't say no to her! But finding a place this time of the year is virtually impossible, so here you are – the Gotei is my last resort! Please, don't turn me down, Berry!"
"Last resort? Thanks a freakin' lot, Momo." Ichigo had snorted in the phone. By then his hand had already been scribbling down on the reservations notebook, though, since denying an old friend was out of question whatever the case. "Anyway, what'd we be celebratin'? Please, don't tell me Izuru and that creepy snake are engaged, or I might just change my mind and hung up on you this instant. No hard feelings, mind ya."
With hindsight, Momo's voice had sounded slightly shaky after that. But – bloody foolish of him – Ichigo had not given it much thought. "Oh no, no, it's nothing like that at all. Just some, some, y'know, college traditional crap. You needn't worry about a theme for the night either, the committee's taking care of that. Just provide the location, 'kay? And of course, y'know, drinks and the lot."
"Of course." Ichigo had glanced down at his notebook before urging the girl on. " 'lright, it's a deal. I'm gonna need more details though, like a rough estimate of how many are coming and stuff."
"Hn, let me think. Well, apart from the guys in the teams, I don't – "
"Teams?"
That's when Momo had utterly panicked. "Did I say teams? I meant, the band! Yeah, the band's gonna be there too. Being it all about tradition, y'know…"
"Rrrright." Ichigo had slurred the word, a taut crease on his brow. "Okay, so I'll give you a ring sometime through the week, just in case something occurs." His apprehension had soon gotten the best of him, setting off his elder bro instinct. "Don't overwork yourself with this though, seriously. You sound worn out, girl."
Obviously – as Ichigo should have learnt by now, but, oh well, you never really learn anything useful in college, d'ya? – telling a girl she's overreacting to something is just the right way to have her overreacting all the more; therefore Momo had gone off bitching like the Hellcat and the redhead had just stopped listening, even going as far as to hum a soft tune to himself while debating this party thing in his head.
Ichigo'd had a funny feeling about this right from the start. But c'mon, he'd eventually resolved, parties never did anyone harm, did they?

"What the fuck is this?"
Momo's fists clench and relax spasmodically as the girl nervously twists her hands behind her back. "This is… this is what it is, Berry, I mean, this is what I said it was going to be. A… party. A traditional college celebr – "
"This is Toshiro's fucking award ceremony! What the hell were you thinking, doing it here of all places?"
Ichigo can't believe it. Can't bloody believe it. What's more unbelievable, Momo dares pull an annoyed face, scoffing. "Well, how was I to know you'd take it so bad? You're claiming out loud all the sodding time you and Shiro-chan are fine, so what the heck are you complaining for? If you two really are fine as you say then I fail to see what the big deal is."
Crazy, this is completely crazy. Ichigo struggles for words, too overwhelmed by the sheer insanity of it all to come up with a proper reply. The loud bass of the music isn't helping conjuring deep thoughts, either. Eventually he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, sounding admittedly quite horrifyingly childish. "You lied to me on purpose. You lied 'cause you knew bloody well I'd never consent to host the party here had I known exactly what I was getting into!"
Momo never gets to defend herself. Partly, Ichigo assumes, because the freaking music's too loud to hear a goddamn thing; secondarily, they're brusquely disrupted by some panting, frenzied-looking girl popping out of nowhere between them.
"Hinamori-kun! So sorry to interrupt, but Kyoraku-san has hit the bottle again, and I think he's kind of coming onto Ukitake-sensei…"
"Damn old perv!" Turning to face Ichigo with a poor excuse for a rueful smile plastered on her delicate features, Toshiro's cousin bows quickly in apology. "I must go fix that."
"Tch. Too bad you can't fix this." The carrot-top grumbles, but Momo has already – eager much? – disappeared among the crowd. Whoa, dumped by two cousins in a row. Way to go, mate! A sly voice suggests maliciously from Ichigo's very core. The boy shuts it up with a sharp tilt of his head.
That's when he sees it.
An arm. Sneaking around a ridiculously far-off Toshiro's middle, with such casual boldness Ichigo never knew anyone could muster around the icy prodigy.
… wait, what the fuck?
The club owner blinks rapidly to clear his slightly blurry view and focuses on the strange couple. Hold on, godawful choice of words. Yet that's exactly what they look like, Toshiro and his whatshisface, standing by the buffet with drinks in their hands, chatting and smiling and exchanging long, passionate glances… Okay, so maybe Ichigo is exaggerating the facts a little, but those two still look downright suspicious. Frowning, the redhead finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.
Even though he knows that's not fair.
Toshiro and he had not met once since their umpteenth last time, just about two months ago. Which was more than fine by the way. If only damn stupid Momo had stopped to consider…
Hell, he's being unfair again. Sighing irritably at himself, Ichigo shifts more comfortably against the counter and takes a long sip from his drink, still watching with rapt eyes as the white-haired shorty shakes hands and nods his thanks to everyone approaching him. For his part, Ichigo can't see what's there to fuss so much around somebody only 'cause they happen to be the captain of the Winter Tournament winner team. Then again, as Toshiro used to say all the time, Ichigo never really got the gist of soccer, nor wanted to for that matter.
Used to say. Crap, ain't this one depressing tense.
He's still sulking visibly around a sip of whatever alcoholic drink he's supposed to be having – the bitterness pooling in his throat makes it kind of hard to point out a specific taste – when an all-too-familiar spiky head turns up beside him, grinning maniacally.
"Kon-ba-wa, B'rry! How're ye 'njoying yerself? 'Tis a great great party li'l Momo got ere, ain't it?"
Upon taking in his friend's state of high, Ichigo decides against bothering with small talk. "Oi, Renji. Who's that?"
"Huh-huu?"
"That, next to Toshiro. The bloke with the long dark hair."
"Ha, pr'tty face!" Wobbling dangerously on his feet, Renji nods toward the man in question as if trying to collect his wits enough to spill the beans. "Can do. Can, can tell. Got an asswer fer ya right ere on meh, B'rry." The whoknowsforhowmuchlonger policeman slouches heavily on a stool, gulps audibly a couple of times then finally blurts out slurring the words: "Kusaka Sojiro, age twenty-four. Curr'ntly livin' with the lots at the flat. Took old baa-san's place. Hez actually pays tha rent, they say, n' kick meh out. Howz that fair, I say? Pr'tty facez ol' mate of Midget's, by tha way. Looks hot in a tracksuit, if ya ask meh."
Of all the things to process on the spot, Ichigo can't seem to do more than parroting dumbly. "Tracksuit?"
"Manz a sporty. Knows midget from high school." Renji shoots him what can only be defined as a knowing glance while adding: "Guess they had a lotta trainin' together, huh?"
Ichigo scoffs.
That's all it takes to set the pineapple's endless teasing off, though. "Man, look at ya, yer bursting! 'Tis writt'n all on yer face ya wanna go kick the beauty's ass!"
"Grow up, you dick." The club owner smacks a light blow to the back of Renji's head, causing him to nearly tumble off the stool in a fit of coughy giggles. Chocolate brown eyes roll in their orbits before settling once more on the two oblivious men standing across the dance floor.
Damn whatshisname is handing Toshiro a glass, does he mean to poison him? tch, like Toshiro's so dumb to fall for it, which the soccer captain happily accepts, whadda hell?
Ichigo's knuckles turn dangerously white around his can. Eventually he can't help venting his spleen. "… what's with the cutesy little names anyway? He's not that awesome-looking, y'know."
Renji's roaring laughter is all the answer he gets, but it sounds like quite enough to aggravate his utter humiliation.

Most of the guests left about an hour ago. For as much as he's trying to tell himself he's not anxious about anything, Ichigo can't help but peer at his watch every three minutes, growing edgier by the second.
"Are you done yet? You'll dig holes in the carpet."
Rukia is at his side before he knows it, kicking him lightly in the ankles to stop him from dragging his heels. Ichigo casts her a half-mocking, half-wary glance. Things between the two of them have been… weird for lack of a better word since the girl discovered just how has his not-quite-relationship with Toshiro ended. Assuming it really has ended, that is – oh, shit, this is exactly the kind of thought he should not be entertaining.
"Loosen up, they're going. Look." Rukia nods lightly in Toshiro's general direction. The small youth has stopped by the wardrobe to collect his belongings, promptly followed by a very pissed Renji, an ill-looking Izuru, a gleeful Momo surrounded by few guys from the soccer team and of course sodding whatshisfaceagain.
Ichigo grumbles his way around a feeble, "dunno what you're talking about" Rukia doesn't even pretend to swallow.
"Niiiiiiice parta, B'rry-chan! Les's do this again s'time, yeah?"
The carrot-top wriggles to get Renji off of him. Hell, ain't the idiot heavy. "You head straight home and for god's sake, have someone else drive. Ya hear me, prick?" Ichigo sighs at the vague assertion the other redhead moans on his way out.
"Don't worry. I'm the designated driver for the night."
Chills run down his spine at the sound of a foreign velvety voice. This…
Whatshisface smirks charmingly while extending his right hand. "I don't believe we were introduced. Name's Kusaka Sojiro. I'm Toshiro and the others' new flatmate. It's nice to meet you."
For the longest of seconds, Ichigo is positive he's going to choke on his own spit. Words get caught in his throat as he repeatedly wets his lips, stalling. Okay, so how dares the fucker even speak to him in the first place? The med student takes his utmost annoyance out on himself, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His nibbling gets all the more frantic as Toshiro joins the merry party in the doorway, his gorgeous features twisted in an inquisitive frown. "You too." Ichigo spits at last while insistently seeking the captain's gaze – which is drifting from corner to corner without ever settling directly on him.
A sharp nudging in his ribs shakes him out of his daydream. Huh? Rukia shoots him a pointed glare. What now? Ichigo's uncomprehending scowl draws an exasperated groan from the small ravenhead. "His name is Kurosaki, and even if he can't seem to recall his manners at the moment, I assure you he's a nice guy."
It takes Ichigo several moments to process just what's happened and who's Rukia talking to. Much to his sheer mortification, Kusaka doesn't miss a beat. "Kurosaki? You are the owner of this place?" The jerk all but beams. "Brilliant! I had a great time tonight. Guess you're the one to thank for that."
Ichigo just cannot hold it in. "Yeah, I sort of noticed you did. Won't take credit for that though." Rukia stamps hard on his right foot. Damnit, damn, I get it! As if Toshiro's scorching glare wasn't enough admonishment already. At least I got him to look at me. Ichigo grudgingly extends his own hand to finally shake Kusaka's awaiting one. "So, well, goodnight. Drive, huh, safe."
Pretty face – why the hell are Renji's drunken words flooding back to his memory now? – smiles politely, looking completely unfazed by the carrot-top's obvious spite. "Sure. It was a pleasure, Kurosaki-san."
The little group strolls in a pissed herd toward the exit. Ichigo sees his friends out, spreading words of caution and reproach for the better-off to mind – which excludes his best mates, given that Izuru doesn't even recognize him as he passes him by and Momo practically sneaks under his nose in shame.
Toshiro leaves last. His vague nod goodbye, however, is nowhere near enough to satisfy Ichigo. Like hell you're gettin' away like that, beauty.
"Congrats. For, you know, the tournament."
Toshiro doesn't really stop his pacing, just slows down a fraction. "Thank you."
His voice is husky, and wary, and husky, was it always so husky? A surge of raw desire runs through Ichigo's body, sending pleasant hot-cold shivers down his spine. "Happy birthday." He blurts out once the prodigy has already crossed the threshold. And, gods, how Toshiro turns to look at him. Fuck. It makes Ichigo's knees turn into bloody jelly. "If belatedly."
This is it. These are the first words they've exchanged since that infamous mid-December last time, and judging by the way Toshiro's eyes widen only to narrow menacingly a moment later, there's not going to be much talking between the two of them before long.
Ichigo and Rukia are left behind as the cherished captain turns on his heels and hurries to catch up with the others. Tch. Couldn't be bothered with a comeback, huh?
"Well, way to – "
"Not another word!" The redhead snaps before clasping a hand over Rukia's mouth for good measure. "Help me clean this mess up instead?" He ventures, cocking his head to point at the much evident effects of the ruthless devastation of his club.
The little ravenhead snatches her friend's hand away, not before biting down on it lightly. "Don't you have someone to do it for you? Like contract cleaners, or something."
"Hey, family-owned business here." Ichigo shrugs, then allows a goofy grin to stretch his lips. "Pretty please?"
Rukia's gaze drifts from Ichigo to the ravaged dance floor as if trying to calculate the pros and cons of the man's offer. Suddenly a bright glint passes through her eyes, like a mischievous tinge of something the club owner can't quite put his finger on, but instantly dreads. "Fine. Although since we've got a long, boring time ahead of us, I demand my clean-up fairytale."
Fairy… oh, gods. "I know nothing of that bullshit."
Apparently, Ichigo's pitiful whine all but fuels the devilish girl's insane enthusiasm. "Don't worry, I'll help." She pats him on the back in what can only be described as a condescending manner. "For instance, how does the tale of 'How Prince Ginger Managed To Royally Screw Up His Steamy Relationship With Snow White' sound to you?" An innocent batting of eyelashes.
Ichigo will so have to talk his father into hiring a clean-up crew one of these days.

.
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Happy Ending