RenIchi - When It Counts (1/3)
LOOK GUYS LOOK IT'S A FIC! Not just that, it's a writing party fic! Remember? (I sincerely apologize to all the participants for posting it so late. *bows*)
Authors: spikykun , babyluw , captain_doxa , pb_cookie and writerx75 !
Betas: goldensprite and zealot1138 . ♥
Title: When It Counts.
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo (varying POVs).
Rating: NC-17.
Word Count: 24,500.
Summary: Renji used to be a stealthy private investigator. He was quick and knew sneaky ways to make people play into his hands. Then Ichigo Kurosaki had shown up, and Renji had become just as bad as the kid. So there he was, stuck babysitting the source of all his recent salary cuts.
Other writing game fics: Seeing Red, Solitary Confinement, Figuring It Out.
~
"Would you fucking stop doing that?" Renji snapped, hissing through his teeth. If he heard another crunch from that smelly bag of potato chips, he would hit his partner in the face. They both had their nervous habits, sure, but Renji knew better than to open a bag of those in a cramped car with an already agitated driver.
"Suck it up," Ichigo retorted before an extra loud crunch.
Enough's enough. Renji snarled and snatched the bag from Ichigo, spilling some potato chips on the leather seats and really not giving a crap. He tossed the bag over his shoulder onto the backseat.
Ichigo looked horrified, staring at Renji like he was the cause of global warming or even worse; their freaking jobs. Renji cherished the moment. "Suck that up, kid," he said, officially victorious.
"Asshole," Ichigo cursed, sounding like he wanted nothing more than to beat Renji up. For a second Renji considered starting a fight himself; it sure as hell would be more interesting than sitting in the car and waiting for something to happen.
Then Ichigo's fists actually clenched, and some forgotten speech about work ethics resurfaced in Renji's head (not to mention the speech about avoiding punches if he wasn't going to punch back).
I'm the mature one, right?
Renji took one calming breath. "Look, brat, I'm not having any more fun than you are. You might as well not make me want to throw you out of the car while I’m driving."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes angrily. "Screw you. I let you break out the goddamn PSP when you're bored, so why can't I eat a bag of chips? I'll tell you why. 'cause you're hungry and you know I'm not gonna let you eat any of mine-"
"Shut the fuck up already!" Renji yelled, throwing his hands in the air in the small car. And ending up slapping Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo's eyes nearly changed shades with anger and frustration, which Renji knew for a fact weren't all directed at him. Ichigo wasn't meant to be sitting in cars and taking pictures.
Renji used to be a stealthy private investigator. He was quick and knew sneaky ways to make people play into his hands. He certainly used to be able to park for a few hours at a safe distance from a motel room to take the incriminating pictures he was paid to take.
Then Ichigo Kurosaki had shown up, and Renji had become just as bad as the kid. He had no idea what Urahara had been thinking, really, hiring this loud and impatient prick, but apparently said prick's father had called in a favor from Renji's boss. Renji secretly thought, if Ichigo hadn't gotten a job, he would have been officially certifiable.
So there he was, stuck babysitting the source of all his recent salary cuts.
Ichigo had a knack for bringing out the worst in Renji; edginess, recklessness, impatience-every agitated impulse he'd kept deep down was brought right to the surface when they were together for more than twenty four hours. It was fun sometimes, maybe, when Renji managed to steal some food or when Ichigo showed common interests in wrestling.
Most of the time, though, they just… clashed. Renji always felt on-edge around Ichigo, like he had to prove how badass he was just to get Ichigo to shut up. No chance of that happening in a damn tiny car.
They were less than inconspicuous together, but for some reason Renji was stuck with dumbass Kurosaki more often than not. At least he had a sure-fire trump card. "Don't forget that what I say goes. I have a little more experience than you."
"Keep telling yourself that, boss."
Renji narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. "What the fuck ever; just focus on the damn job."
Amazingly enough, Ichigo did as he was told, hissing curses while slumping down in his seat. Renji wanted to tell him he was a good boy, but held his tongue. It wasn't like he wanted to piss Ichigo off on purpose or anything.
Most of the time.
"So what do you think this guy's into?" Ichigo asked, staring blankly at the door a few feet from their car.
"We're not supposed to guess," Renji said, and Ichigo pouted. "But I don't think it's a drug thing," he added for no particular reason.
"Oh?" Ichigo asked looking interested. Renji could barely see his eyes in the dark, but he knew there was a curious glint in them.
It was part of the job description to know how to read people, and after so much time together, Renji had Ichigo down. The way Ichigo walked just to show how confident he was-the cocky bastard-or the way he slouched when he was embarrassed, or that he constantly fiddled with things when he was bored.
His eyes gave away everything his body language didn't. Renji memorized the way Ichigo's eyes hardened when he was really angry or had to make a tough decision, or the way they wouldn't meet Renji's eyes when Ichigo was worried or nervous.
Shit, Renji could tell when Ichigo was aroused. That had been an awkward surveillance.
Renji shook off those thoughts and took his own advice. Focus. "Personally, I think he's cheating on his wife with another woman."
Ichigo chuckled. He probably knew Renji was only trying to humor him, but he went with it anyway. For once, Renji was slightly fond of Ichigo.
"Or with a man," Ichigo countered.
Renji snorted, which morphed into a chuckle, and then a laughing fit. He tried to keep it down; they were tailing someone after all, but honestly. Only when Ichigo stopped smirking did Renji know he should shut up.
"Good one, Ichigo," he said, nudging Ichigo's shoulder.
Ichigo didn't seem amused, but Renji didn't take it personally; Ichigo never seemed amused. "I wasn't kidding, jackass. Everyone has secrets."
Renji furrowed his brow, feeling the laughter die out. "But why would a guy marry a woman if he was gay?"
Ichigo shrugged.
Bad sign. He's looking away.
"I don't know. I guess it's hard to come out."
Renji wanted to shake him just to make him meet his eyes again. He settled for slapping Ichigo's shoulder and saying, "Didn't mean to upset you, kid. Want your potato chips now?"
As expected, Ichigo glared daggers at him, smacking his hand away. "Shut the fuck up, Renji. I'm not a kid."
Renji glared right back, knowing he was adding fuel to the fire. "You sure like acting like one. I can't believe you're actually getting paid for this."
Ichigo's fists clenched in his lap again. Renji thought he looked like he was about to bare his teeth and growl.
"Like you're any better, you useless moron," Ichigo said.
That one stung a bit. Renji wasn't like Ichigo at all. He clenched his fists. "I am! As a matter of fact, I'm five times better than you!"
He knew he shouldn't be enjoying fighting with Ichigo, but what the hell. Renji stopped thinking about it when Ichigo said, "Then I'm ten times better than you!"
Renji was the one that growled in anger. "That's too bad, 'cause I'm a hundred times better than you!"
"Oh really?" Ichigo asked, his tone quieter and somehow deadlier. Renji knew he would regret this from the moment he saw that look on Ichigo's face. "Who found Rukia in the end, then?"
Oh, that's it. Renji didn't give Ichigo any warning before punching his shoulder and shoving him sideways, until his head hit the door with a satisfying bang. Ichigo didn't waste a second either, readjusting and hurtling his fist toward Renji's stomach.
It was a really stupid thing to do in such a confined space, but the argument itself was really stupid (almost like Ichigo), and they were only doing it to release some tension anyway. Still, that didn't stop Renji from taking the fight seriously.
The fact that they were so close did help him, somewhat, when he was able to elbow Ichigo's ribs without even moving his body, and grabbed Ichigo's fist with his other hand. There were more noises-they were hitting the dashboard, the door, the wheel, Renji's chest-Ichigo was a quick bastard when he wanted to be.
Renji was near the point of biting Ichigo into submission, or even headbutting him, when yellow light flooded the parking lot. They both froze, realizing the door of the motel room had opened while they'd been making a ruckus out there. Shit, they had been tailing this guy for three days and this was unprofessional and unacceptable and-the guy appeared at the threshold and peeked out.
Shit. "Get down," Renji hissed and shoved Ichigo sideways again, until Ichigo's arm was pressed to the door and he was slumped so low in his seat that the man outside could only see Ichigo's hair and eyes, if he looked hard enough. Renji, however, couldn't get that low (longer legs and all that), and ended up pressed to Ichigo's other side, his head pushing into Ichigo's shoulder.
Well, this is awkward. It was still better than getting intimate with the dashboard, though.
"D'you think he saw us?" Ichigo asked, and Renji cursed every fiber of his being for the fact that they were so close he could feel Ichigo breathe against his ear.
Dashboard, please.
He desperately tried to find a distraction, because fuck, Renji would never get used to being this close to Ichigo, no matter how many tight squeezes the job had gotten them tangled in. He turned his eyes to the motel door and saw the man stepping out and looking around to make sure the hallway was empty. Didn't see us. Thank god.
Renji gulped when another man stepped out of the same room, wearing a big overcoat. Guess Ichigo won that one.
Ichigo smirked. Into Renji's hair. And he could feel it.
Fuck it; they had a job to do. "He didn't see us. Get the camera."
Renji bit his lip when Ichigo started wriggling to reach the camera in his lap with his free hand and then give it to Renji.
Aim. Focus. Strike. Renji grinned even as he took the pictures.
Even though he had to sit in cars that were too small, wear clothes made to blend in when Renji failed to do so himself, and get lumped together with guys like Ichigo Kurosaki, he fucking loved his job. Took pride in it, really.
Four pictures, five; a shady man holding a bag; a married woman holding an unmarried man's hand; a wad of cash in the wrong pocket. All in Renji's control. If Renji did his job well, he could have all of these people's lives in the palm of his hand.
"Got it?" Ichigo hissed, shifting uncomfortably under Renji.
The men left, each in a different direction. Renji moved the camera away and tilted his head to look at Ichigo. It wasn't that hard, considering he was still right in Ichigo's face and could still feel his breath.
"'Course I got it," he said, but it lost some of the smugness he'd attempted to put into it. Ichigo definitely seemed less mean at that proximity. Renji's stare drifted to Ichigo's eyes, as it always had, and he found something a whole lot different than anger.
He's aroused.
Renji really didn't want to know that. While cursing Ichigo for being so easy to read, he backed off, settling back in his own seat at the steering wheel. He fumbled around in his head for reasons events had turned the way they had, ignoring the weird feelings inside him and reaching for the car keys that had landed on the floor by his feet.
It wasn't the first time this had happened: after three days without being able to properly let off steam and slim to no chance of getting yourself off, things like this were only natural. And Ichigo was young; getting a body over you (man or woman be damned) in a tight place like this... it was a natural reaction. Renji knew that, Ichigo knew that, Ichigo knew that Renji knew that and vice versa.
He looked back over his shoulder before turning the key; he had to make sure that the target of their effort was out of sight.
“All clear. Let’s get out of here.” It would be nice to be able to sleep in a bed again, with room to stretch your legs out.
When Renji entered the office the next day to deliver the pictures to Urahara, the man was already waiting for him. It had always bothered Renji, who was proud of his ability to read people, that he had never been able to read his boss, and that the man had such an easy time reading him.
“Greetings Abarai! How was work?”
Renji shrugged. He had never been comfortable around Urahara, and he believed the reason was the treatment he'd received in his first years. Being shoved around and having to work overtime for less than minimum pay had its turn on him. But then again, he did learn a lot during those years.
“Good. Got the final photos right here.” He pulled the yellow envelope with the memory card in it out of his jacket and handed it over to the man behind the desk. He just wanted to get his money, get the hell out of there before he was tricked into doing some “favor”, and have a few days off before he (most likely) would be forced into sitting in a car for days with no one but Ichigo to talk to.
“Fabulous! Your and Kurosaki's pay and new job are lying on the shelf.” Renji couldn't help but flinch at that (lord knows he tried).
“You're sending us out right away?” Walking over to the shelf, Renji grabbed the three envelopes lying there, shoving the ones filled with money down his pocket as he tore up the third to have a look at the job.
“It's just a standard job, it won't take long.” The blond man leered as he picked up the black cat that was grinding against his leg. “A beautiful lady called; she was worried about her husband. Apparently she believes he does more than work on his trips. She's paying well and wants it done as soon as possible. You have one week on you, so I would advise you to pick Kurosaki up as soon as possible.”
A standard mission that more than often meant a few days in a car. Renji inwardly groaned at the thought of getting back into that small space again so soon.
“Time limit?” That, on the other hand, spiked his interests a little. Usually time didn't matter as long as the job got done.
“The husband will only be in town for a week before heading home again. If you want to take longer, you will pay for the plane tickets yourself.” Of course he would, no surprise there.
Renji looked down at the photo in his hand. The husband (from the look of it), was taller than Renji and had straight black hair. A thin but wide smile and half-closed eyes made him look rough, and Renji developed a slight dislike for the man right on the spot. He looked like a typical creep. He turned the photo over and on the back was the name of the husband; Jiruga Nnoitra.
The next picture was of the wife, and she really was beautiful. Tanned with blond hair and blue-green eyes. Tia Halibel.
He looked at her for a while, memorizing her features as he had done with the man, before he closed the envelope again. He thanked Urahara and said his goodbyes, and left to pick the kid up.
*
Ichigo was not happy when he opened the door to find Renji there with two envelopes instead of one.
“We're being sent out again, aren't we?” His brow knitted together in irritation as he grabbed his salary out of Renji's hand and backed off to let the redhead in. Renji just nodded in response, letting Ichigo know that he was as happy with this as the moron was. “What is it this time, then?”
“Standard; the wife and the cheating husband.” He crashed down on the couch in front of the TV and hoisted his legs up on the small table as he waited for Ichigo to get ready. “Will probably only take two or three days.”
“How much time do we have?” Ichigo's voice was distant behind Renji's head as he threw a change of t-shirt into his bag along with energy bars and Coca-Cola cans.
“He has a meeting at the All Blue Hotel in two hours. Thought we should stick to him after that.” He flipped through the shows one after another, trying, against all odds, to find something good.
”Let me shower," And jerk off one last time. “And then let's get something hot to eat before we get back into that car.” Since we'll be living off of instant food for the closest days to come. Renji could read everything that was left unsaid or was supposed to follow the words Ichigo spoke. It was good; it saved time not having to spell everything out, especially in tight situations.
*
Two hours and fifteen minutes later they sat in the cramped car again, outside of All Blue this time. The sun was shining outside and Ichigo had kicked his shoes off and curled up into a ball in the passenger seat, a book in his hand.
Renji turned on the radio and leaned back into the black seat as he watched the front door of the big hotel. He found it a slight annoyance that Ichigo wasn't focusing on the job but he held it back; it was only the first day, there would be plenty of time for bitching later.
We haven't been apart long enough for this.
It wasn't until four hours later that the husband came out of the front door with two companions, one big and buff and dressed in a black suit. Security guard. The other was quite a bit smaller, blond, and didn't have 'suspicious business' written all over him like the other two. “Let's get this party started then.” Renji smirked as he picked the camera up and made sure to get the men on picture.
“Whoa,” Ichigo chuckled, feet now back on the floor. “Talk about illegal aura all over the place.”
“True.”
Nnoitra leaned over to whisper something in the smaller man's ear as a shining black car rolled up in front of them.
*
They followed the car all over to the 'backside' of town where they parked two blocks away from Nnoitra and his company.
“Where is this place?” Renji asked out loud when he followed the man with his eyes as he entered what looked like a half-private club.
“You don't know?” Ichigo raised his eyebrows in pure evilness and fake surprise as Renji glared at him.
“Should I know?”
“It can come in handy, apparently.” The younger man smirked as he leaned back to grab his jacket from the backseat before opening the door. “Come on, let's go.”
“Why should we move? And what is this place?”
“'Cause he won't come out in at least five hours, if he even comes out, that is. And, this place is called Don Flamingo and it's a bar. More precisely, it's a gay bar that has a small hotel business too.”
Renji groaned a little as he stepped out of the car a moment later, slamming the door shut and locking it as he followed Ichigo down the street. Why Ichigo would even know about a place like this was beyond him, but then again, Ichigo knew strange things.
*
Nightfall was nearing and a crowd had already gathered at the door. Looks like it won’t be easy to get in unnoticed this time, Renji thought as he and Ichigo made their way through the crowd. Renji was trying his hardest to keep it cool; it wasn’t that he was homophobic, but he wasn’t inclined to see a bunch of men clad in leather or in torn, tight jeans. He tried not to think of those in sparkly clothes as men; he found the very thought absurd. Who the hell would like to dress like that?
Not that he would ever, even in a million years, admit it, but it was good to have a man to keep your back safe in this kind of place. That Ichigo kid maybe wasn’t one of the most competent partners, but he was still some kind of back-up. Those muscles aren’t all for nothing. Wish he had a temper to match ‘em.
It was about time to get in. “Does this place have a rear entrance?” Renji asked.
Ichigo’s reaction wasn’t the one Renji expected. The boy, who obviously found that funny, was trying to muffle his laughter by placing a hand over his mouth.
“Could you be serious and think about our work for a moment? I don’t see what’s so funny about finding a back e-Oh, you little-”
“You finally got it. Took you a while,” Ichigo taunted.
Renji hissed in response, “I don’t have time for this. We don’t have time for this. Let’s get in.”
“Ok, ok, mister grumpyface. Let’s go around the building. We’ll maybe find something useful if we’re lucky enough.”
“Now you’re talkin’. Let’s go!”
Thirty long minutes later, they realized that there was only one door besides the main one and it was locked. Unfortunately, Ichigo had forgotten to take lock-picking tools with him, so they had no way of getting in stealthily. Renji was this close to kicking the idiot’s sorry ass. If he had been on his own, he wouldn’t have had to rely on the useless prick. The kid had only brought bad luck so far.
“What are we going to do now?” Renji growled in anger.
“Why should I think of something? Aren’t you the one in charge?” Ichigo asked in a tentative tone of voice.
“Since you’ve been so helpful so far, it’s your turn now,” Renji snarled in response.
Ichigo smirked. “Why don’t we just go in like the rest of the gang does?”
What? “Gang? Who are you referring to?” He hoped he got this one wrong, but the look on Ichigo’s face told him otherwise. Fuck.
“Like you don’t know what I meant. Put on your manly sparkles and let’s hope they’ll let us in. There’s no other way,” Ichigo pointed out.
Even if there was, you would fuck it up soon enough. “This better work, and work painlessly. Otherwise, more than your pride's gonna be hurt,” Renji threatened, semi-hoping that he’d get to show the kid how stupid his idea was.
“Then get in the line with me. And play along, if a situation rises.”
“Let’s just get it over with.” I’ll kill Urahara for getting me into this after we get the job done.
Renji could’ve sworn he had heard another ‘Aw, Mr. Grumpyface’.
*
They got in the goddamned line with all the... well, Renji thought they were men, but he wasn’t that sure. The air around them smelled like sweat and leather, which didn’t make the situation even the slightest bit better. The crowd was moving forward very slowly and it didn’t take much for Renji to notice why. There was a bouncer in front of the club’s entrance and it looked like he was picking out only men that matched the probably quite ambiguous criteria for getting into the club.
Being pushed around all the time, Renji didn’t like the way bodies in the crowd were pressed together. He was trying his hardest not to touch the man in front of him, at least not with the lower half of the body. Won’t give ‘im that pleasure. Though, he could feel Ichigo’s body pressing fully against his and it was starting to make him feel uncomfortable.
“Could you back off a bit?” Renji hissed.
Feeling the bastard’s breath on his neck, Renji heard him saying, “There’s no room. Man up, dude. This won’t last much longer. And the fact that you’re practically shoving your ass against me because you don’t dare touch the guy in front of you isn’t helping either.”
Renji decided not to answer that one. Ichigo was right: out of the two, feeling the contact with Ichigo’s body was probably the favorable option. At least the kid took a shower a few hours ago. Renji could still smell the traces of Ichigo’s shampoo in his hair; he was that close to him. He does smell nice.
He almost started to feel not-so-uncomfortable like this, when it was their turn to get in. The both of them just headed straight for the entrance, but one of the bouncers stopped them. He was tall, buff and looked pretty old - maybe even too old to have that job.
“You lot! Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled at them, obviously.
“Inside, presumably?” Renji pointed to the grand entrance.
“No way. You’re not on the list. Moreover, you don’t fit in with the theme of the night. Go away.” He stretched his neck to the side and yelled, “Next!”
“Don’t ya think they deserve to get in?” Renji heard a deep voice, which belonged to a blue-haired man clad in leather, who was leaning against the wall. “The red-haired guy has a sweet ass.”
The old bouncer turned to face the newcomer. “I thought your break was supposed to start in an hour.”
“Knock it off, Barr-y,” he said, accenting the last syllable. “I’m the most wanted host in there. I think I deserve a few minutes for a cigarette every once in a while.”
Renji’s eyes darted to man’s hand, in which was a lit black cigarette. It was producing a thin stroke of vanilla-flavored white smoke. Smokin’ only the expensive stuff, of course. Unlike me.
“Do me a favor, let them in. I’ll rent ‘em some of my clothes and I’ll get you a pack of my smokes,” the blue-haired man said, winking to the bouncer. Is that blue eyeliner?
“All right. But I won’t keep doing this for you every night. The boss will get pissed.”
“Aizen? Don’t worry ‘bout him. He makes too much money because of me,” the man retorted, glowing with self-confidence. “Let’s go inside,” he said to Renji and motioned with his hand towards the entrance.
Ichigo started to follow them inside, but the host stopped him. “Why are you following us?”
“Didn’t you say that both of us should’ve gotten in?” Ichigo asked, confused.
The host shrugged his shoulders. “I changed my mind. Only the tattooed guy can come. He’s hotter than you and, frankly, you look underage, kid.”
“I’m not underage. Do I have to show you my I.D.?”
Thank god his birthday was last month.
“And I’m with him. We’re an item, I mean.” Ichigo pointed to obviously puzzled Renji.
That wasn’t part of the script.
Renji gave Ichigo a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing glare of death before he remembered that ‘play along’ bit. His eyes softened and he nodded in acceptance.
“Wherever I go, he goes,” Renji grunted.
“Too bad,” the host said in a very disappointed tone of voice. “If I'd known you would be such a fuckin' bother... fine, let’s go in. Both of you. We’re keeping the line behind.”
And he was right; the crowd was obviously already getting totally pissed. They got in the foyer, and Renji really had something to see. The walls were painted in a deep shade of red, the floor was tiled with black marble and the furniture was a mesmerizing combination of different shades of red, mixed in with grey accents.
“Like the room?” The host asked Renji, who was still staring at a stylish black coffee table with red candles on it. So much red.
“Yeah, it makes me wonder what the rest of the place looks like.”
With a smug look on his face, the host responded. “If you’re that interested, why don’t we get to my room so I can get you some clothes? You do have to fit with the theme of the night, ya know. Otherwise they’ll throw you out sooner or later.”
Turning back from the furniture and to the man he was still unfamiliar with, Renji asked, “And what is the theme?” I’ll so regret asking this.
“Sugar and leather daddies.” Seeing the expression on Renji’s face, the host laughed. “You wanted to get in, so there’s no turning back now. C'mon,” he said as he motioned with his hand and walked over to a wardrobe, which he then unlocked.
Play along. Keep your cool. You can do it. “What are we going to do in a wardrobe?”
“It’s not a wardrobe; it’s a fake cupboard. It hides the door to my room, see?” And indeed, the back of the cupboard opened inwards and revealed a rather roomy area. The host entered the room, followed by Renji and Ichigo.
The door closed behind them and the click it made sent chills down Renji’s spine. Locked in the private room of a host who works at a gay bar with no one else but that useless kid. I can’t believe it. This isn’t happening. It’s all because of the kid.
The host turned to them, smiled and said, “Let's get to know each other better, yeah? You can call me Pantera. It's not my real name, obviously, but I go by it most of the time. And you are?”
No real names. My kind of game. “I’m Ren and this is my partner, Ichi,” Renji said as he pointed to Ichigo. I wish I could point out he’s not that kind of partner. For a second, the look on Ichigo’s face turned to something all but usual and his eyes were dark in that way again, but he snapped out of it soon enough. I wonder what’s going through his head.
It was only after giving the names that Renji realized how similar they were to their real names. Okay, maybe he wasn't that good at this kind of game. So what?
“Well, then. Let's get busy. I gotta find you some clothes to wear,” Pantera said.
“Why are you doing this for us? We probably can’t pay you for the clothes you're gonna lend us,” Ichigo said, with concern in his voice.
“Don’t worry, kid. I like your man, so you’ll be my protégées for the night. Don’t think you’re getting special treatment or nothing; it’s something I do from time to time since it gets boring in this shithole. Anyway, you’ll have to make it up to me, but it won’t be anything hard. Just keep close to me and get me a drink or two from time to time while I’m tending to my clients. Waiters are crap here. Got it?”
This doesn’t sound so bad. Let’s just hope Nnoitra will be close enough to monitor him at the same time, or else this whole crap will be all for nothing. “I’m fine with it.”
Ichigo nodded. “Me too.”
Pantera grinned almost ferociously, like a predator. “Good. Now we just have to find you something to wear fast; there’s a customer waiting for me. He’s one of Aizen’s favorite clients.” He opened a wardrobe (a real one, this time) and started pulling out random suits, shirts and leather pants. He probably spends a fortune on his clothes.
Later, it turned out that the only thing that somewhat fit Renji was a pair of black leather pants with shiny metal zippers, which were all-too-tight on him. He kept his black t-shirt, although Pantera wasn’t very happy with the idea (once he had seen a glimpse of Renji’s tattoos, he wanted to freely see the rest of them. Pantera didn't look like a guy who would take no for an answer).
Ichigo went for black suit pants with thin white stripes, a white button-down shirt and a black silk tie, which hung loosely around his neck. That lucky bastard. Not only has he found something that looks somewhat normal, he looks good in it, too. While me, in these pants... God, I hope Urahara’ll never find out about this. Ever.
“Ren, I was right. Your ass looks good,” Pantera teased.
Could this get any more embarrassing?
The host continued, “Ichi, you’re lucky to own that piece of ass.”
Ichigo eyed Renji, as if trying to evaluate the believability of Pantera’s statement, a tad too long for Renji’s taste. Does he have to get full visual contact or something? And, if anyone owned the other one’s ass, I would’ve been the owner and he the… ownee.
“Yeah. In fact, I am,” Ichigo said almost absently as he slid his fingers over Renji’s hip.
Looks like he needed more than just something visual. With a strong urge flooding him to throw Ichigo to the floor and strangle him right then and there, Renji barely managed to not do as his instincts told him to. I hope the kid knows what he’s doing. If he’s putting up a front, he’s doing that extremely well for someone of his abilities.
Pantera eyed them for a few moments with something different in his eyes, easily recognizable as suspicion. Renji wondered if Ichigo had taken it a little too far, but before he could do anything, Pantera spoke again.
“Anyway, let’s go to the main room of the club. I have some work to do and you have some drinks to drink... and carry,” he said. “Remember to stay close to me, but other than that, you can basically do whatever you want. If you do well, I’ll get you a free drink or two.”
A drink is exactly what I need right now.
The host went out through another door, with Renji and Ichigo following him close behind.
*
“Why am I the one wearing leather pants?” Those were the first words out of Renji’s mouth as soon as no one’s eyes were on him, which took a bit longer than he would have preferred.
“Because you’re the one with the good-looking ass,” Ichigo snickered. “A good-looking ass which, don’t forget, I own.” Renji shot him a look to kill before he grabbed the drinks the bartender had finished mixing for him. “But look on the bright side, some luck that Nnoitra was the client Pantera was talking about, right? And that we were even able to get in here in the first place.”
Ichigo leaned past him to pick up the pitcher of stout remaining on the bar and turned to take the lead back to the table. He was much too cheerful for Renji’s taste, and Renji made sure to stick close so Ichigo could hear all of his griping on the way.
“OK, first, we didn’t get in. I got in and just barely managed to get you in with me. Second, there’s no way I would have done it if I had known this was gonna happen. It ain’t worth the paycheck.” All this for an open-and-shut case. If they hadn’t already gotten themselves into it, Renji was pretty sure that pictures of Nnoitra within a ten-block radius of this club would have convinced his wife he was cheating. He really didn’t like the looks that Pantera guy kept flashing him. And those leather pants chafed, damn it.
“Really? ‘Cause for me, seeing you this pissed off is kind of a bonus.” Ichigo smirked at him over his shoulder, and Renji had to seriously resist the urge to punch him in the face.
When they arrived at the table, Renji set down the drinks as non-invasively as he could; the double whiskey went to Nnoitra, and the fruity concoction he hoped to never again see drunk by a man went to the pink-haired guy on his right.
Ichigo’s pitcher was for the large bodyguard type they had seen at the hotel, who by now had removed his suit jacket and was wearing an a-line tank that revealed the number “10” tattooed on his left arm. His muscles were huge; from Renji’s angle, all he could see was the “0”. Wouldn’t want to run into that guy in a dark alley. Ichigo though, stupid as usual, attempted to strike up a friendly conversation, and only stepped back when the man ignored him to tip the entire pitcher to his mouth. The hands he used to lift it were so enormous that it looked like a regular glass in his hands.
Renji surveyed the table in silence, trying to take in as much information as he could about the situation. Sure, it was a straightforward case, but it wasn’t a bad habit to keep up. Nnoitra was clearly the center of attention, but the pink-haired guy was fighting him pretty seriously for the spotlight. Pantera would have made an excellent politician, given the way he picked all the right moments to jump in and out of the conversation; at present, the club host was resting his arms on the table between Nnoitra and the third man they had seen come out of the hotel, the smaller blond guy. Unwilling to speak up but clearly annoyed, the man kept trying to lean past Pantera to keep his eyes on Nnoitra.
He hasn’t had a drink all night, Renji noted to himself. Made sense; he looked like the type to be suckered into playing designated driver, at least if Nnoitra were the one who asked him… Tesla, he heard Pantera call him.
Number 10 sat disinterestedly to the side, seemingly bored with the conversation and the club. Renji sympathized greatly. Across the table from Nnoitra were the two men they had apparently all gone there to meet. They were a strange pair; one was tall and thin and appeared overconfident, while the other was much stockier and anxious-looking, constantly ending his sentences with a nervous “dontcha know”.
His eyes drifting back over the table, Renji had the sudden realization that the pink-haired man was watching him like a hawk. Whether it was because he’d picked up on his observations or simply liked leather pants didn’t make much difference; Renji didn’t like being studied that way. Being studied meant he could be remembered, and that was a big mistake in his line of work. On top of it, Pantera had picked up on the exchanged glances, and smoothly slid in next to the man. Not good.
“Like that, Szayel?” He grinned furtively in Renji’s direction, and he hoped his face wasn’t nearly as red as it felt like it was. “Can you believe that ass just walked in here off the street? Never been in here before in his life.” Szayel’s eyes flickered over to Pantera’s before answering.
“He’s all right. Interesting, I’d say. I wouldn’t mind… experimenting with him a bit.” He looked at Renji one more time before turning back to his drink. Pantera slapped him on the back with a loud burst of laughter before heading over to Renji.
“Knew you’d be good for business.” He said it just quietly enough that no one at the table could hear him, but judging by the way Ichigo swaggered over he hadn’t had a problem hearing it.
“Don’t forget, he’s taken.” Renji jumped as his partner’s hand hit him on the ass. And stayed there. It took everything he had to hold himself back. Save it for later, Renji. Save it for when no one can see you dispose of the body.
“Right. Of course.” Pantera shot him a cryptic glance before returning to the table, and Renji found it unsettling. Was he picking up on something again?
“Renji,” Ichigo muttered into his ear, making him want to roll his eyes. Yeah, they were pretending to be a couple, but did he have to stand so close? It felt like he was trying to merge bodies or something. “I know that guy, Szayel. I thought I might have recognized him but I couldn’t place him until I heard them say his name. Those two guys across the table, I think I’ve seen them before too, but I can’t… but Szayel, he used to be the head of a local drug ring.”
Renji whipped his head around. “First, move your hand. Second, how the hell do you know that?”
“My dad. Szayel was arrested a couple years ago on dealer charges, but the cops who took him in fucked up the paperwork, and he ended up walking. One of the conditions was that he stayed on the radar, but of course he disappeared after that, no one’s seen him since-”
His dad the cop. Of course. Renji cut him off. “Take your hand off my ass. Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Renji, something’s going on here, this is a lot more than some guy cheating on his wife. We’ve got to find out more, we need a way to make them feel comfortable talking in front of us…” Ichigo trailed off, and Renji was just getting ready to remove his hand for him when he piped up with the worst idea of the night.
“Kiss me. Now.”
“What? No. No way am I gonna-” He momentarily forgot to control the volume of his voice, and out of the corner of his eye noticed a blue-haired head turn in their direction.
“Idiot, don’t make them look! I’m serious, if they think we’re busy making out and totally distracted, I’m sure they’ll talk in front of us! They think we’re just two guys off the street who wanted to get into this club tonight, remember?”
“Ichigo, that’s absolutely fucking cra-” Ichigo’s mouth cut him off again, only this time not with words. He was so stunned he didn’t do anything for a moment, and the kid must have taken that as approval, because next he ran his tongue across his lips. His goddamn tongue. That was too much, and Renji moved to push him away, but Ichigo was more determined. He found his back slammed against the wall behind them. Damn, I forget, but he really is strong.
A hushed but heated exchange began between them.
“Idiot! How the hell is this supposed to make them not look at us?”
“In a place like this? They’ve got better stuff to talk about than the guys making out in here. Just trust me, ok?”
“Yeah, trust you and end up with your tongue in my-” mouth. Damn it, Ichigo was way too comfortable with this. Again Renji’s hands went up to try and push him back, and Ichigo slapped his thigh sharply. His eyes snapped open (Why the hell had he closed them?) but before they could really get into it, he realized his partner had been right. Absolutely no one at the table was looking at them now.
Well… he supposed he’d done worse things in the course of an investigation. Like that time Urahara had insisted he needed to wear that “FUCK” hat to the library in order to-well, truthfully, he still had no idea why he’d had to wear that hat. This was definitely better than the fuck hat. Or at least, it wasn’t any worse. With his eyes closed, he could maybe just pretend Ichigo was a girl. He was smaller than him, anyway, he actually fit into his arms pretty nicely… and he wasn’t really a bad kisser either, once Renji gave in and let him do it.
His hair was soft, too, felt nice under his fingers when he ran them through it. Which he only did to make their act more convincing. Because if Ichigo was going to do that thing with his hand trailing over his hip bone, it would just look weird if he didn’t respond. Man, those pants really were tight, like a second skin; he could feel everything through them… Ichigo’s mouth moved away from his, over his neck instead. Bastard… how the hell was he supposed to respond to that-
“Stop breathing so hard,” Ichigo hissed into his ear. “I can’t hear over you. Sounds like they’re planning on meeting at the dock two nights from now, but I don’t know about the time-I think they’ve already decided on it.”
The mortification of realizing Ichigo had actually been paying attention to the conversation was enough to automatically ball Renji’s hand into a fist, but he was saved the trouble of following through. Ichigo was pulled backward by his collar, and Pantera’s not-so-happy face appeared between them.
“I’m really glad you two are over here enjoying each other-or whatever it is you’re doing-” another one of those penetrating looks in Renji’s direction “-but you guys work for me tonight.” He released Ichigo with extra enthusiasm, causing him to stumble a few steps. “Kid, you’re obviously the one with the brains, go wait on my other tables and don’t embarrass me.” Ichigo looked up at Renji, silently asking him what he should do.
“Go on, get the fuck out of here.” It came out harsher than he meant it to, but whatever. He’d do better gathering information on his own anyway. Hell, he was made to work alone. Making out to avoid attention… of all the stupid shit… Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly and headed off to one of the host’s other tables without so much as a backward glance. Bastard.
“Now, Ren, we’re gonna make some adjustments here.” Pantera’s hands gripped his shirt and pulled it halfway up his chest before Renji was able to get his fingers around the hem.
“What the hell-”
“I was right, those tattoos go all over… you take this off and tips are gonna go up by twenty percent.” They struggled for another moment before Pantera made a final threat. “Keep fightin’ me and you’re gonna be wearin’ my leather harness.”
Renji thought it was best to give up.
Things only went downhill from there. Nnoitra’s table ended up leaving almost immediately, and Renji could think of no way to get out of there without looking more suspicious than he already did, meaning he spent the next several hours condemned to pointless (and topless) trips back and forth to the bar, dodging drunken man-hands. In the meantime, Ichigo appeared to have settled into downing round after round at one of Pantera’s tables, expertly extricating free drinks from the guys sitting around it. When Renji grumbled a complaint, he was informed that Ichigo was actually making more money for the host by keeping the drinks coming than he would be by running back and forth to the bar, and that Renji should learn something from him.
Finally though, the club closed for the night, and the first thing Renji did was go to collect Ichigo. His face was planted firmly in the table, and Renji had to pull him up by his tie. “C’mon, brat, we’re getting out of here.” Ichigo snorted in a way that was probably his version of a giggle. Fuckin’ great, kid can’t hold his liquor. It wasn’t all that surprising though, when he thought about it; he was so young, he couldn’t possibly have had much time to practice. In any case, it looked like the verbal abuse and possible physical beating would have to wait until tomorrow, if he wanted Ichigo to remember it. And boy, did he want him to remember it.
He fixed his partner’s arm over his shoulder to help him stand up. “Where’s your shirt?” Ichigo slurred.
“Just shut up.” Damn, it’s like he’s trying to make himself as heavy as possible… Ichigo could barely keep his balance. “I hate you, by the way. Have I told you that before?”
“No, you don’t,” Ichigo answered matter-of-factly.
He hoped they’d have time to collect their clothes and get out of there before Pantera even came back to his room-maybe supervising cleanup or counting tips would keep him busy-but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The club host entered his room through the wardrobe door at the same time Renji dragged Ichigo in from the club. Saying goodnight to some other favorite clients, he surmised, tossing his partner onto the bed.
“You two really were great for business. One of the best nights I’ve had in a while.” He walked directly over to Renji, so close he could feel the heat of his body, and for a moment he thought Pantera was going to kiss him too. Perfect end to the perfect day, he thought miserably. But instead he kept talking. “And I have a lot of good nights, Ren, as you might imagine.”
“I’ll bet. Too bad I don’t care.”
“Relax. It ain’t like I’m interested in you.” He grinned. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got a great ass, and those tattoos aren’t bad, and it’s not like I’d mind it, but… you ain’t really my type. Too stiff. Your friend here though, now that I’ve had a chance to get to know him a little better…” He turned toward the bed, all his attention on Ichigo, and Renji felt a small pulse of uneasiness in his gut. “He comes off kinda innocent, but he’s actually pretty feisty. Just the way I like ‘em. Tell me the truth; are you two even really together?”
Renji didn’t answer, even when Pantera paused to look back in his direction.
“Look, I don’t know what you two were doin’ in here tonight, and I don’t want to. Fact is I hate those guys. All of ‘em. Think they’re entitled. Aizen too, he can go fuck himself. I need this job though, if I’m gonna get to the top of this game. Point is, I ain’t gonna tell on you. I gotta ask you a favor though. If you’re not really with this kid, let me know, ‘cause I could show him some stuff he wouldn’t forget.” In one fluid motion, like some kind of jungle cat, Pantera had straddled Ichigo and reached for his zipper. Ichigo sat up half way and mumbled out some kind of protest, but he was obviously way too drunk to stop him.
Immediately, Renji had Pantera off the bed and thrown backward against the wall.
“Fuck your bullshit. Don’t touch him, he’s-” oh, what the hell “-he’s mine.”
“Whoa there, cowboy.” Pantera was completely unfazed by the rough handling; in fact, to Renji’s great annoyance, he may have even been enjoying it. “Calm down, sorry if I was wrong. It wasn’t like I was gonna do anything to him, just gettin’ my clothes back. Messin’ with a guy when he’s not at the top of his game ain’t exactly my thing-just thought he might like somethin’ to remember me by, that’s all.” He kept his eyes on Renji as he pried his fingers out of his shirt, and returned them patronizingly to his sides. “So are you gonna undress him, or should I?”
“I’ll take care of it, asshole. Just keep your hands off him.” He was so flustered when he approached the bed he almost forgot to use his partner’s ‘nickname’. “Ichi.” No response, other than a barely-audible grunt. “Ichi, get undressed.” Again, nothing. Sighing, he knelt down on the bed to pull off his shoes. He probably should have been angrier, but the situation had left him feeling unusually protective. Better me than that guy, anyway.
On the other hand, he was kind of glad Pantera had already unzipped the suit pants, because that meant he didn’t have to. He comforted himself briefly with the fact that Ichigo would probably not remember any of this in the morning before reaching for them. “Lift up.” Ichigo obeyed easily. Fixing his fingers under the waistline, he pulled them down over his hips, over his boxer briefs, and resisted the urge to situate his hands so they didn’t graze against his skin. The soft hair on Ichigo’s legs brushed against the backs of his fingers, contrasting strangely with the compact muscle that was visible in the room’s carefully-designed lighting. Jeez, his legs go on forever… damn it, it really shouldn’t have felt so different from undressing himself. He let the pants drop to the floor.
The tie was easy enough to take care of, just needed to slide his fingers under the loop and pull… The shirt buttons, though, they were going to be harder to deal with. He checked back over his shoulder to find Pantera watching him with interest, arms crossed, another one of those expensive cigarettes dangling from his lips. Looks like I don’t have a choice. Throwing one leg clumsily over Ichigo’s hips, he reached down to undo the front of his dress shirt. He tried to do it as naturally as possible, make it look convincing so Pantera would take him seriously… One button at a time, he revealed Ichigo’s bare chest. Because of course Ichigo wasn’t wearing an undershirt, because that wouldn’t make things quite awkward enough to go with the rest of the night. He recalled his private rant from earlier in the evening about how easily Ichigo had found something in Pantera’s closet that actually looked good on him; it only followed that he’d look good without anything, too. Probably effortlessly. Come to think of it, Renji had never seen him work out during any of their extended assignments. He was tempted to drag one of his fingers over his abdomen, just lightly, as he pulled the shirt back from it, just to see if the muscles there were as firm as they looked. It’s impossible, the kid lives on potato chips and soda and those damn sugar things he calls energy bars…
An amused voice from next to the bed startled him. “If you’re done starin’ at your ‘boyfriend’ like you’ve never seen him undressed before… maybe you’d like his clothes?” He snatched the jeans and t-shirt out of Pantera’s hands, letting the angry silence that followed answer for him.
It seemed like it took forever to get Ichigo into those clothes, but he eventually did it, no thanks to Ichigo himself. He’s gonna owe me big time for this. He changed back into his own clothes afterward as quickly as possible, feeling both the relief of actually being out of those horrible leather pants and the aggravation of having to get undressed in front of the club host again. Finally though, they were both changed and ready to go, and he couldn’t remember having been more eager to leave a place in the recent past.
He had just persuaded Ichigo to wrap his arm over his shoulder one more time and hoisted him off the bed when Pantera spoke up. “Hey.” Renji didn’t stop to look, only paused for a brief second of acknowledgment. “I wasn’t kiddin’. Bring the kid back here sometime when he’s sober. Looks like he’d put up a good fight. Looks like he’d like to, if you know what I mean, and frankly I’m not sure you’re up to it.”
Those words awakened some unidentifiable feeling in him. He would have almost called it possessiveness, except that… that was wrong. Defensiveness, maybe that was more like it. Pantera had been wearing on him all night; it only made sense he had his hackles up. Hell, it was all Ichigo’s fault they’d ended up in there in the first place. He should want to throw him to this guy after all that.
He practically carried Ichigo over his shoulder in his hurry to get him out of there.
PART 2
Authors: spikykun , babyluw , captain_doxa , pb_cookie and writerx75 !
Betas: goldensprite and zealot1138 . ♥
Title: When It Counts.
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo (varying POVs).
Rating: NC-17.
Word Count: 24,500.
Summary: Renji used to be a stealthy private investigator. He was quick and knew sneaky ways to make people play into his hands. Then Ichigo Kurosaki had shown up, and Renji had become just as bad as the kid. So there he was, stuck babysitting the source of all his recent salary cuts.
Other writing game fics: Seeing Red, Solitary Confinement, Figuring It Out.
~
"Would you fucking stop doing that?" Renji snapped, hissing through his teeth. If he heard another crunch from that smelly bag of potato chips, he would hit his partner in the face. They both had their nervous habits, sure, but Renji knew better than to open a bag of those in a cramped car with an already agitated driver.
"Suck it up," Ichigo retorted before an extra loud crunch.
Enough's enough. Renji snarled and snatched the bag from Ichigo, spilling some potato chips on the leather seats and really not giving a crap. He tossed the bag over his shoulder onto the backseat.
Ichigo looked horrified, staring at Renji like he was the cause of global warming or even worse; their freaking jobs. Renji cherished the moment. "Suck that up, kid," he said, officially victorious.
"Asshole," Ichigo cursed, sounding like he wanted nothing more than to beat Renji up. For a second Renji considered starting a fight himself; it sure as hell would be more interesting than sitting in the car and waiting for something to happen.
Then Ichigo's fists actually clenched, and some forgotten speech about work ethics resurfaced in Renji's head (not to mention the speech about avoiding punches if he wasn't going to punch back).
I'm the mature one, right?
Renji took one calming breath. "Look, brat, I'm not having any more fun than you are. You might as well not make me want to throw you out of the car while I’m driving."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes angrily. "Screw you. I let you break out the goddamn PSP when you're bored, so why can't I eat a bag of chips? I'll tell you why. 'cause you're hungry and you know I'm not gonna let you eat any of mine-"
"Shut the fuck up already!" Renji yelled, throwing his hands in the air in the small car. And ending up slapping Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo's eyes nearly changed shades with anger and frustration, which Renji knew for a fact weren't all directed at him. Ichigo wasn't meant to be sitting in cars and taking pictures.
Renji used to be a stealthy private investigator. He was quick and knew sneaky ways to make people play into his hands. He certainly used to be able to park for a few hours at a safe distance from a motel room to take the incriminating pictures he was paid to take.
Then Ichigo Kurosaki had shown up, and Renji had become just as bad as the kid. He had no idea what Urahara had been thinking, really, hiring this loud and impatient prick, but apparently said prick's father had called in a favor from Renji's boss. Renji secretly thought, if Ichigo hadn't gotten a job, he would have been officially certifiable.
So there he was, stuck babysitting the source of all his recent salary cuts.
Ichigo had a knack for bringing out the worst in Renji; edginess, recklessness, impatience-every agitated impulse he'd kept deep down was brought right to the surface when they were together for more than twenty four hours. It was fun sometimes, maybe, when Renji managed to steal some food or when Ichigo showed common interests in wrestling.
Most of the time, though, they just… clashed. Renji always felt on-edge around Ichigo, like he had to prove how badass he was just to get Ichigo to shut up. No chance of that happening in a damn tiny car.
They were less than inconspicuous together, but for some reason Renji was stuck with dumbass Kurosaki more often than not. At least he had a sure-fire trump card. "Don't forget that what I say goes. I have a little more experience than you."
"Keep telling yourself that, boss."
Renji narrowed his eyes at Ichigo. "What the fuck ever; just focus on the damn job."
Amazingly enough, Ichigo did as he was told, hissing curses while slumping down in his seat. Renji wanted to tell him he was a good boy, but held his tongue. It wasn't like he wanted to piss Ichigo off on purpose or anything.
Most of the time.
"So what do you think this guy's into?" Ichigo asked, staring blankly at the door a few feet from their car.
"We're not supposed to guess," Renji said, and Ichigo pouted. "But I don't think it's a drug thing," he added for no particular reason.
"Oh?" Ichigo asked looking interested. Renji could barely see his eyes in the dark, but he knew there was a curious glint in them.
It was part of the job description to know how to read people, and after so much time together, Renji had Ichigo down. The way Ichigo walked just to show how confident he was-the cocky bastard-or the way he slouched when he was embarrassed, or that he constantly fiddled with things when he was bored.
His eyes gave away everything his body language didn't. Renji memorized the way Ichigo's eyes hardened when he was really angry or had to make a tough decision, or the way they wouldn't meet Renji's eyes when Ichigo was worried or nervous.
Shit, Renji could tell when Ichigo was aroused. That had been an awkward surveillance.
Renji shook off those thoughts and took his own advice. Focus. "Personally, I think he's cheating on his wife with another woman."
Ichigo chuckled. He probably knew Renji was only trying to humor him, but he went with it anyway. For once, Renji was slightly fond of Ichigo.
"Or with a man," Ichigo countered.
Renji snorted, which morphed into a chuckle, and then a laughing fit. He tried to keep it down; they were tailing someone after all, but honestly. Only when Ichigo stopped smirking did Renji know he should shut up.
"Good one, Ichigo," he said, nudging Ichigo's shoulder.
Ichigo didn't seem amused, but Renji didn't take it personally; Ichigo never seemed amused. "I wasn't kidding, jackass. Everyone has secrets."
Renji furrowed his brow, feeling the laughter die out. "But why would a guy marry a woman if he was gay?"
Ichigo shrugged.
Bad sign. He's looking away.
"I don't know. I guess it's hard to come out."
Renji wanted to shake him just to make him meet his eyes again. He settled for slapping Ichigo's shoulder and saying, "Didn't mean to upset you, kid. Want your potato chips now?"
As expected, Ichigo glared daggers at him, smacking his hand away. "Shut the fuck up, Renji. I'm not a kid."
Renji glared right back, knowing he was adding fuel to the fire. "You sure like acting like one. I can't believe you're actually getting paid for this."
Ichigo's fists clenched in his lap again. Renji thought he looked like he was about to bare his teeth and growl.
"Like you're any better, you useless moron," Ichigo said.
That one stung a bit. Renji wasn't like Ichigo at all. He clenched his fists. "I am! As a matter of fact, I'm five times better than you!"
He knew he shouldn't be enjoying fighting with Ichigo, but what the hell. Renji stopped thinking about it when Ichigo said, "Then I'm ten times better than you!"
Renji was the one that growled in anger. "That's too bad, 'cause I'm a hundred times better than you!"
"Oh really?" Ichigo asked, his tone quieter and somehow deadlier. Renji knew he would regret this from the moment he saw that look on Ichigo's face. "Who found Rukia in the end, then?"
Oh, that's it. Renji didn't give Ichigo any warning before punching his shoulder and shoving him sideways, until his head hit the door with a satisfying bang. Ichigo didn't waste a second either, readjusting and hurtling his fist toward Renji's stomach.
It was a really stupid thing to do in such a confined space, but the argument itself was really stupid (almost like Ichigo), and they were only doing it to release some tension anyway. Still, that didn't stop Renji from taking the fight seriously.
The fact that they were so close did help him, somewhat, when he was able to elbow Ichigo's ribs without even moving his body, and grabbed Ichigo's fist with his other hand. There were more noises-they were hitting the dashboard, the door, the wheel, Renji's chest-Ichigo was a quick bastard when he wanted to be.
Renji was near the point of biting Ichigo into submission, or even headbutting him, when yellow light flooded the parking lot. They both froze, realizing the door of the motel room had opened while they'd been making a ruckus out there. Shit, they had been tailing this guy for three days and this was unprofessional and unacceptable and-the guy appeared at the threshold and peeked out.
Shit. "Get down," Renji hissed and shoved Ichigo sideways again, until Ichigo's arm was pressed to the door and he was slumped so low in his seat that the man outside could only see Ichigo's hair and eyes, if he looked hard enough. Renji, however, couldn't get that low (longer legs and all that), and ended up pressed to Ichigo's other side, his head pushing into Ichigo's shoulder.
Well, this is awkward. It was still better than getting intimate with the dashboard, though.
"D'you think he saw us?" Ichigo asked, and Renji cursed every fiber of his being for the fact that they were so close he could feel Ichigo breathe against his ear.
Dashboard, please.
He desperately tried to find a distraction, because fuck, Renji would never get used to being this close to Ichigo, no matter how many tight squeezes the job had gotten them tangled in. He turned his eyes to the motel door and saw the man stepping out and looking around to make sure the hallway was empty. Didn't see us. Thank god.
Renji gulped when another man stepped out of the same room, wearing a big overcoat. Guess Ichigo won that one.
Ichigo smirked. Into Renji's hair. And he could feel it.
Fuck it; they had a job to do. "He didn't see us. Get the camera."
Renji bit his lip when Ichigo started wriggling to reach the camera in his lap with his free hand and then give it to Renji.
Aim. Focus. Strike. Renji grinned even as he took the pictures.
Even though he had to sit in cars that were too small, wear clothes made to blend in when Renji failed to do so himself, and get lumped together with guys like Ichigo Kurosaki, he fucking loved his job. Took pride in it, really.
Four pictures, five; a shady man holding a bag; a married woman holding an unmarried man's hand; a wad of cash in the wrong pocket. All in Renji's control. If Renji did his job well, he could have all of these people's lives in the palm of his hand.
"Got it?" Ichigo hissed, shifting uncomfortably under Renji.
The men left, each in a different direction. Renji moved the camera away and tilted his head to look at Ichigo. It wasn't that hard, considering he was still right in Ichigo's face and could still feel his breath.
"'Course I got it," he said, but it lost some of the smugness he'd attempted to put into it. Ichigo definitely seemed less mean at that proximity. Renji's stare drifted to Ichigo's eyes, as it always had, and he found something a whole lot different than anger.
He's aroused.
Renji really didn't want to know that. While cursing Ichigo for being so easy to read, he backed off, settling back in his own seat at the steering wheel. He fumbled around in his head for reasons events had turned the way they had, ignoring the weird feelings inside him and reaching for the car keys that had landed on the floor by his feet.
It wasn't the first time this had happened: after three days without being able to properly let off steam and slim to no chance of getting yourself off, things like this were only natural. And Ichigo was young; getting a body over you (man or woman be damned) in a tight place like this... it was a natural reaction. Renji knew that, Ichigo knew that, Ichigo knew that Renji knew that and vice versa.
He looked back over his shoulder before turning the key; he had to make sure that the target of their effort was out of sight.
“All clear. Let’s get out of here.” It would be nice to be able to sleep in a bed again, with room to stretch your legs out.
When Renji entered the office the next day to deliver the pictures to Urahara, the man was already waiting for him. It had always bothered Renji, who was proud of his ability to read people, that he had never been able to read his boss, and that the man had such an easy time reading him.
“Greetings Abarai! How was work?”
Renji shrugged. He had never been comfortable around Urahara, and he believed the reason was the treatment he'd received in his first years. Being shoved around and having to work overtime for less than minimum pay had its turn on him. But then again, he did learn a lot during those years.
“Good. Got the final photos right here.” He pulled the yellow envelope with the memory card in it out of his jacket and handed it over to the man behind the desk. He just wanted to get his money, get the hell out of there before he was tricked into doing some “favor”, and have a few days off before he (most likely) would be forced into sitting in a car for days with no one but Ichigo to talk to.
“Fabulous! Your and Kurosaki's pay and new job are lying on the shelf.” Renji couldn't help but flinch at that (lord knows he tried).
“You're sending us out right away?” Walking over to the shelf, Renji grabbed the three envelopes lying there, shoving the ones filled with money down his pocket as he tore up the third to have a look at the job.
“It's just a standard job, it won't take long.” The blond man leered as he picked up the black cat that was grinding against his leg. “A beautiful lady called; she was worried about her husband. Apparently she believes he does more than work on his trips. She's paying well and wants it done as soon as possible. You have one week on you, so I would advise you to pick Kurosaki up as soon as possible.”
A standard mission that more than often meant a few days in a car. Renji inwardly groaned at the thought of getting back into that small space again so soon.
“Time limit?” That, on the other hand, spiked his interests a little. Usually time didn't matter as long as the job got done.
“The husband will only be in town for a week before heading home again. If you want to take longer, you will pay for the plane tickets yourself.” Of course he would, no surprise there.
Renji looked down at the photo in his hand. The husband (from the look of it), was taller than Renji and had straight black hair. A thin but wide smile and half-closed eyes made him look rough, and Renji developed a slight dislike for the man right on the spot. He looked like a typical creep. He turned the photo over and on the back was the name of the husband; Jiruga Nnoitra.
The next picture was of the wife, and she really was beautiful. Tanned with blond hair and blue-green eyes. Tia Halibel.
He looked at her for a while, memorizing her features as he had done with the man, before he closed the envelope again. He thanked Urahara and said his goodbyes, and left to pick the kid up.
*
Ichigo was not happy when he opened the door to find Renji there with two envelopes instead of one.
“We're being sent out again, aren't we?” His brow knitted together in irritation as he grabbed his salary out of Renji's hand and backed off to let the redhead in. Renji just nodded in response, letting Ichigo know that he was as happy with this as the moron was. “What is it this time, then?”
“Standard; the wife and the cheating husband.” He crashed down on the couch in front of the TV and hoisted his legs up on the small table as he waited for Ichigo to get ready. “Will probably only take two or three days.”
“How much time do we have?” Ichigo's voice was distant behind Renji's head as he threw a change of t-shirt into his bag along with energy bars and Coca-Cola cans.
“He has a meeting at the All Blue Hotel in two hours. Thought we should stick to him after that.” He flipped through the shows one after another, trying, against all odds, to find something good.
”Let me shower," And jerk off one last time. “And then let's get something hot to eat before we get back into that car.” Since we'll be living off of instant food for the closest days to come. Renji could read everything that was left unsaid or was supposed to follow the words Ichigo spoke. It was good; it saved time not having to spell everything out, especially in tight situations.
*
Two hours and fifteen minutes later they sat in the cramped car again, outside of All Blue this time. The sun was shining outside and Ichigo had kicked his shoes off and curled up into a ball in the passenger seat, a book in his hand.
Renji turned on the radio and leaned back into the black seat as he watched the front door of the big hotel. He found it a slight annoyance that Ichigo wasn't focusing on the job but he held it back; it was only the first day, there would be plenty of time for bitching later.
We haven't been apart long enough for this.
It wasn't until four hours later that the husband came out of the front door with two companions, one big and buff and dressed in a black suit. Security guard. The other was quite a bit smaller, blond, and didn't have 'suspicious business' written all over him like the other two. “Let's get this party started then.” Renji smirked as he picked the camera up and made sure to get the men on picture.
“Whoa,” Ichigo chuckled, feet now back on the floor. “Talk about illegal aura all over the place.”
“True.”
Nnoitra leaned over to whisper something in the smaller man's ear as a shining black car rolled up in front of them.
*
They followed the car all over to the 'backside' of town where they parked two blocks away from Nnoitra and his company.
“Where is this place?” Renji asked out loud when he followed the man with his eyes as he entered what looked like a half-private club.
“You don't know?” Ichigo raised his eyebrows in pure evilness and fake surprise as Renji glared at him.
“Should I know?”
“It can come in handy, apparently.” The younger man smirked as he leaned back to grab his jacket from the backseat before opening the door. “Come on, let's go.”
“Why should we move? And what is this place?”
“'Cause he won't come out in at least five hours, if he even comes out, that is. And, this place is called Don Flamingo and it's a bar. More precisely, it's a gay bar that has a small hotel business too.”
Renji groaned a little as he stepped out of the car a moment later, slamming the door shut and locking it as he followed Ichigo down the street. Why Ichigo would even know about a place like this was beyond him, but then again, Ichigo knew strange things.
*
Nightfall was nearing and a crowd had already gathered at the door. Looks like it won’t be easy to get in unnoticed this time, Renji thought as he and Ichigo made their way through the crowd. Renji was trying his hardest to keep it cool; it wasn’t that he was homophobic, but he wasn’t inclined to see a bunch of men clad in leather or in torn, tight jeans. He tried not to think of those in sparkly clothes as men; he found the very thought absurd. Who the hell would like to dress like that?
Not that he would ever, even in a million years, admit it, but it was good to have a man to keep your back safe in this kind of place. That Ichigo kid maybe wasn’t one of the most competent partners, but he was still some kind of back-up. Those muscles aren’t all for nothing. Wish he had a temper to match ‘em.
It was about time to get in. “Does this place have a rear entrance?” Renji asked.
Ichigo’s reaction wasn’t the one Renji expected. The boy, who obviously found that funny, was trying to muffle his laughter by placing a hand over his mouth.
“Could you be serious and think about our work for a moment? I don’t see what’s so funny about finding a back e-Oh, you little-”
“You finally got it. Took you a while,” Ichigo taunted.
Renji hissed in response, “I don’t have time for this. We don’t have time for this. Let’s get in.”
“Ok, ok, mister grumpyface. Let’s go around the building. We’ll maybe find something useful if we’re lucky enough.”
“Now you’re talkin’. Let’s go!”
Thirty long minutes later, they realized that there was only one door besides the main one and it was locked. Unfortunately, Ichigo had forgotten to take lock-picking tools with him, so they had no way of getting in stealthily. Renji was this close to kicking the idiot’s sorry ass. If he had been on his own, he wouldn’t have had to rely on the useless prick. The kid had only brought bad luck so far.
“What are we going to do now?” Renji growled in anger.
“Why should I think of something? Aren’t you the one in charge?” Ichigo asked in a tentative tone of voice.
“Since you’ve been so helpful so far, it’s your turn now,” Renji snarled in response.
Ichigo smirked. “Why don’t we just go in like the rest of the gang does?”
What? “Gang? Who are you referring to?” He hoped he got this one wrong, but the look on Ichigo’s face told him otherwise. Fuck.
“Like you don’t know what I meant. Put on your manly sparkles and let’s hope they’ll let us in. There’s no other way,” Ichigo pointed out.
Even if there was, you would fuck it up soon enough. “This better work, and work painlessly. Otherwise, more than your pride's gonna be hurt,” Renji threatened, semi-hoping that he’d get to show the kid how stupid his idea was.
“Then get in the line with me. And play along, if a situation rises.”
“Let’s just get it over with.” I’ll kill Urahara for getting me into this after we get the job done.
Renji could’ve sworn he had heard another ‘Aw, Mr. Grumpyface’.
*
They got in the goddamned line with all the... well, Renji thought they were men, but he wasn’t that sure. The air around them smelled like sweat and leather, which didn’t make the situation even the slightest bit better. The crowd was moving forward very slowly and it didn’t take much for Renji to notice why. There was a bouncer in front of the club’s entrance and it looked like he was picking out only men that matched the probably quite ambiguous criteria for getting into the club.
Being pushed around all the time, Renji didn’t like the way bodies in the crowd were pressed together. He was trying his hardest not to touch the man in front of him, at least not with the lower half of the body. Won’t give ‘im that pleasure. Though, he could feel Ichigo’s body pressing fully against his and it was starting to make him feel uncomfortable.
“Could you back off a bit?” Renji hissed.
Feeling the bastard’s breath on his neck, Renji heard him saying, “There’s no room. Man up, dude. This won’t last much longer. And the fact that you’re practically shoving your ass against me because you don’t dare touch the guy in front of you isn’t helping either.”
Renji decided not to answer that one. Ichigo was right: out of the two, feeling the contact with Ichigo’s body was probably the favorable option. At least the kid took a shower a few hours ago. Renji could still smell the traces of Ichigo’s shampoo in his hair; he was that close to him. He does smell nice.
He almost started to feel not-so-uncomfortable like this, when it was their turn to get in. The both of them just headed straight for the entrance, but one of the bouncers stopped them. He was tall, buff and looked pretty old - maybe even too old to have that job.
“You lot! Where do you think you’re going?” he yelled at them, obviously.
“Inside, presumably?” Renji pointed to the grand entrance.
“No way. You’re not on the list. Moreover, you don’t fit in with the theme of the night. Go away.” He stretched his neck to the side and yelled, “Next!”
“Don’t ya think they deserve to get in?” Renji heard a deep voice, which belonged to a blue-haired man clad in leather, who was leaning against the wall. “The red-haired guy has a sweet ass.”
The old bouncer turned to face the newcomer. “I thought your break was supposed to start in an hour.”
“Knock it off, Barr-y,” he said, accenting the last syllable. “I’m the most wanted host in there. I think I deserve a few minutes for a cigarette every once in a while.”
Renji’s eyes darted to man’s hand, in which was a lit black cigarette. It was producing a thin stroke of vanilla-flavored white smoke. Smokin’ only the expensive stuff, of course. Unlike me.
“Do me a favor, let them in. I’ll rent ‘em some of my clothes and I’ll get you a pack of my smokes,” the blue-haired man said, winking to the bouncer. Is that blue eyeliner?
“All right. But I won’t keep doing this for you every night. The boss will get pissed.”
“Aizen? Don’t worry ‘bout him. He makes too much money because of me,” the man retorted, glowing with self-confidence. “Let’s go inside,” he said to Renji and motioned with his hand towards the entrance.
Ichigo started to follow them inside, but the host stopped him. “Why are you following us?”
“Didn’t you say that both of us should’ve gotten in?” Ichigo asked, confused.
The host shrugged his shoulders. “I changed my mind. Only the tattooed guy can come. He’s hotter than you and, frankly, you look underage, kid.”
“I’m not underage. Do I have to show you my I.D.?”
Thank god his birthday was last month.
“And I’m with him. We’re an item, I mean.” Ichigo pointed to obviously puzzled Renji.
That wasn’t part of the script.
Renji gave Ichigo a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing glare of death before he remembered that ‘play along’ bit. His eyes softened and he nodded in acceptance.
“Wherever I go, he goes,” Renji grunted.
“Too bad,” the host said in a very disappointed tone of voice. “If I'd known you would be such a fuckin' bother... fine, let’s go in. Both of you. We’re keeping the line behind.”
And he was right; the crowd was obviously already getting totally pissed. They got in the foyer, and Renji really had something to see. The walls were painted in a deep shade of red, the floor was tiled with black marble and the furniture was a mesmerizing combination of different shades of red, mixed in with grey accents.
“Like the room?” The host asked Renji, who was still staring at a stylish black coffee table with red candles on it. So much red.
“Yeah, it makes me wonder what the rest of the place looks like.”
With a smug look on his face, the host responded. “If you’re that interested, why don’t we get to my room so I can get you some clothes? You do have to fit with the theme of the night, ya know. Otherwise they’ll throw you out sooner or later.”
Turning back from the furniture and to the man he was still unfamiliar with, Renji asked, “And what is the theme?” I’ll so regret asking this.
“Sugar and leather daddies.” Seeing the expression on Renji’s face, the host laughed. “You wanted to get in, so there’s no turning back now. C'mon,” he said as he motioned with his hand and walked over to a wardrobe, which he then unlocked.
Play along. Keep your cool. You can do it. “What are we going to do in a wardrobe?”
“It’s not a wardrobe; it’s a fake cupboard. It hides the door to my room, see?” And indeed, the back of the cupboard opened inwards and revealed a rather roomy area. The host entered the room, followed by Renji and Ichigo.
The door closed behind them and the click it made sent chills down Renji’s spine. Locked in the private room of a host who works at a gay bar with no one else but that useless kid. I can’t believe it. This isn’t happening. It’s all because of the kid.
The host turned to them, smiled and said, “Let's get to know each other better, yeah? You can call me Pantera. It's not my real name, obviously, but I go by it most of the time. And you are?”
No real names. My kind of game. “I’m Ren and this is my partner, Ichi,” Renji said as he pointed to Ichigo. I wish I could point out he’s not that kind of partner. For a second, the look on Ichigo’s face turned to something all but usual and his eyes were dark in that way again, but he snapped out of it soon enough. I wonder what’s going through his head.
It was only after giving the names that Renji realized how similar they were to their real names. Okay, maybe he wasn't that good at this kind of game. So what?
“Well, then. Let's get busy. I gotta find you some clothes to wear,” Pantera said.
“Why are you doing this for us? We probably can’t pay you for the clothes you're gonna lend us,” Ichigo said, with concern in his voice.
“Don’t worry, kid. I like your man, so you’ll be my protégées for the night. Don’t think you’re getting special treatment or nothing; it’s something I do from time to time since it gets boring in this shithole. Anyway, you’ll have to make it up to me, but it won’t be anything hard. Just keep close to me and get me a drink or two from time to time while I’m tending to my clients. Waiters are crap here. Got it?”
This doesn’t sound so bad. Let’s just hope Nnoitra will be close enough to monitor him at the same time, or else this whole crap will be all for nothing. “I’m fine with it.”
Ichigo nodded. “Me too.”
Pantera grinned almost ferociously, like a predator. “Good. Now we just have to find you something to wear fast; there’s a customer waiting for me. He’s one of Aizen’s favorite clients.” He opened a wardrobe (a real one, this time) and started pulling out random suits, shirts and leather pants. He probably spends a fortune on his clothes.
Later, it turned out that the only thing that somewhat fit Renji was a pair of black leather pants with shiny metal zippers, which were all-too-tight on him. He kept his black t-shirt, although Pantera wasn’t very happy with the idea (once he had seen a glimpse of Renji’s tattoos, he wanted to freely see the rest of them. Pantera didn't look like a guy who would take no for an answer).
Ichigo went for black suit pants with thin white stripes, a white button-down shirt and a black silk tie, which hung loosely around his neck. That lucky bastard. Not only has he found something that looks somewhat normal, he looks good in it, too. While me, in these pants... God, I hope Urahara’ll never find out about this. Ever.
“Ren, I was right. Your ass looks good,” Pantera teased.
Could this get any more embarrassing?
The host continued, “Ichi, you’re lucky to own that piece of ass.”
Ichigo eyed Renji, as if trying to evaluate the believability of Pantera’s statement, a tad too long for Renji’s taste. Does he have to get full visual contact or something? And, if anyone owned the other one’s ass, I would’ve been the owner and he the… ownee.
“Yeah. In fact, I am,” Ichigo said almost absently as he slid his fingers over Renji’s hip.
Looks like he needed more than just something visual. With a strong urge flooding him to throw Ichigo to the floor and strangle him right then and there, Renji barely managed to not do as his instincts told him to. I hope the kid knows what he’s doing. If he’s putting up a front, he’s doing that extremely well for someone of his abilities.
Pantera eyed them for a few moments with something different in his eyes, easily recognizable as suspicion. Renji wondered if Ichigo had taken it a little too far, but before he could do anything, Pantera spoke again.
“Anyway, let’s go to the main room of the club. I have some work to do and you have some drinks to drink... and carry,” he said. “Remember to stay close to me, but other than that, you can basically do whatever you want. If you do well, I’ll get you a free drink or two.”
A drink is exactly what I need right now.
The host went out through another door, with Renji and Ichigo following him close behind.
*
“Why am I the one wearing leather pants?” Those were the first words out of Renji’s mouth as soon as no one’s eyes were on him, which took a bit longer than he would have preferred.
“Because you’re the one with the good-looking ass,” Ichigo snickered. “A good-looking ass which, don’t forget, I own.” Renji shot him a look to kill before he grabbed the drinks the bartender had finished mixing for him. “But look on the bright side, some luck that Nnoitra was the client Pantera was talking about, right? And that we were even able to get in here in the first place.”
Ichigo leaned past him to pick up the pitcher of stout remaining on the bar and turned to take the lead back to the table. He was much too cheerful for Renji’s taste, and Renji made sure to stick close so Ichigo could hear all of his griping on the way.
“OK, first, we didn’t get in. I got in and just barely managed to get you in with me. Second, there’s no way I would have done it if I had known this was gonna happen. It ain’t worth the paycheck.” All this for an open-and-shut case. If they hadn’t already gotten themselves into it, Renji was pretty sure that pictures of Nnoitra within a ten-block radius of this club would have convinced his wife he was cheating. He really didn’t like the looks that Pantera guy kept flashing him. And those leather pants chafed, damn it.
“Really? ‘Cause for me, seeing you this pissed off is kind of a bonus.” Ichigo smirked at him over his shoulder, and Renji had to seriously resist the urge to punch him in the face.
When they arrived at the table, Renji set down the drinks as non-invasively as he could; the double whiskey went to Nnoitra, and the fruity concoction he hoped to never again see drunk by a man went to the pink-haired guy on his right.
Ichigo’s pitcher was for the large bodyguard type they had seen at the hotel, who by now had removed his suit jacket and was wearing an a-line tank that revealed the number “10” tattooed on his left arm. His muscles were huge; from Renji’s angle, all he could see was the “0”. Wouldn’t want to run into that guy in a dark alley. Ichigo though, stupid as usual, attempted to strike up a friendly conversation, and only stepped back when the man ignored him to tip the entire pitcher to his mouth. The hands he used to lift it were so enormous that it looked like a regular glass in his hands.
Renji surveyed the table in silence, trying to take in as much information as he could about the situation. Sure, it was a straightforward case, but it wasn’t a bad habit to keep up. Nnoitra was clearly the center of attention, but the pink-haired guy was fighting him pretty seriously for the spotlight. Pantera would have made an excellent politician, given the way he picked all the right moments to jump in and out of the conversation; at present, the club host was resting his arms on the table between Nnoitra and the third man they had seen come out of the hotel, the smaller blond guy. Unwilling to speak up but clearly annoyed, the man kept trying to lean past Pantera to keep his eyes on Nnoitra.
He hasn’t had a drink all night, Renji noted to himself. Made sense; he looked like the type to be suckered into playing designated driver, at least if Nnoitra were the one who asked him… Tesla, he heard Pantera call him.
Number 10 sat disinterestedly to the side, seemingly bored with the conversation and the club. Renji sympathized greatly. Across the table from Nnoitra were the two men they had apparently all gone there to meet. They were a strange pair; one was tall and thin and appeared overconfident, while the other was much stockier and anxious-looking, constantly ending his sentences with a nervous “dontcha know”.
His eyes drifting back over the table, Renji had the sudden realization that the pink-haired man was watching him like a hawk. Whether it was because he’d picked up on his observations or simply liked leather pants didn’t make much difference; Renji didn’t like being studied that way. Being studied meant he could be remembered, and that was a big mistake in his line of work. On top of it, Pantera had picked up on the exchanged glances, and smoothly slid in next to the man. Not good.
“Like that, Szayel?” He grinned furtively in Renji’s direction, and he hoped his face wasn’t nearly as red as it felt like it was. “Can you believe that ass just walked in here off the street? Never been in here before in his life.” Szayel’s eyes flickered over to Pantera’s before answering.
“He’s all right. Interesting, I’d say. I wouldn’t mind… experimenting with him a bit.” He looked at Renji one more time before turning back to his drink. Pantera slapped him on the back with a loud burst of laughter before heading over to Renji.
“Knew you’d be good for business.” He said it just quietly enough that no one at the table could hear him, but judging by the way Ichigo swaggered over he hadn’t had a problem hearing it.
“Don’t forget, he’s taken.” Renji jumped as his partner’s hand hit him on the ass. And stayed there. It took everything he had to hold himself back. Save it for later, Renji. Save it for when no one can see you dispose of the body.
“Right. Of course.” Pantera shot him a cryptic glance before returning to the table, and Renji found it unsettling. Was he picking up on something again?
“Renji,” Ichigo muttered into his ear, making him want to roll his eyes. Yeah, they were pretending to be a couple, but did he have to stand so close? It felt like he was trying to merge bodies or something. “I know that guy, Szayel. I thought I might have recognized him but I couldn’t place him until I heard them say his name. Those two guys across the table, I think I’ve seen them before too, but I can’t… but Szayel, he used to be the head of a local drug ring.”
Renji whipped his head around. “First, move your hand. Second, how the hell do you know that?”
“My dad. Szayel was arrested a couple years ago on dealer charges, but the cops who took him in fucked up the paperwork, and he ended up walking. One of the conditions was that he stayed on the radar, but of course he disappeared after that, no one’s seen him since-”
His dad the cop. Of course. Renji cut him off. “Take your hand off my ass. Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Renji, something’s going on here, this is a lot more than some guy cheating on his wife. We’ve got to find out more, we need a way to make them feel comfortable talking in front of us…” Ichigo trailed off, and Renji was just getting ready to remove his hand for him when he piped up with the worst idea of the night.
“Kiss me. Now.”
“What? No. No way am I gonna-” He momentarily forgot to control the volume of his voice, and out of the corner of his eye noticed a blue-haired head turn in their direction.
“Idiot, don’t make them look! I’m serious, if they think we’re busy making out and totally distracted, I’m sure they’ll talk in front of us! They think we’re just two guys off the street who wanted to get into this club tonight, remember?”
“Ichigo, that’s absolutely fucking cra-” Ichigo’s mouth cut him off again, only this time not with words. He was so stunned he didn’t do anything for a moment, and the kid must have taken that as approval, because next he ran his tongue across his lips. His goddamn tongue. That was too much, and Renji moved to push him away, but Ichigo was more determined. He found his back slammed against the wall behind them. Damn, I forget, but he really is strong.
A hushed but heated exchange began between them.
“Idiot! How the hell is this supposed to make them not look at us?”
“In a place like this? They’ve got better stuff to talk about than the guys making out in here. Just trust me, ok?”
“Yeah, trust you and end up with your tongue in my-” mouth. Damn it, Ichigo was way too comfortable with this. Again Renji’s hands went up to try and push him back, and Ichigo slapped his thigh sharply. His eyes snapped open (Why the hell had he closed them?) but before they could really get into it, he realized his partner had been right. Absolutely no one at the table was looking at them now.
Well… he supposed he’d done worse things in the course of an investigation. Like that time Urahara had insisted he needed to wear that “FUCK” hat to the library in order to-well, truthfully, he still had no idea why he’d had to wear that hat. This was definitely better than the fuck hat. Or at least, it wasn’t any worse. With his eyes closed, he could maybe just pretend Ichigo was a girl. He was smaller than him, anyway, he actually fit into his arms pretty nicely… and he wasn’t really a bad kisser either, once Renji gave in and let him do it.
His hair was soft, too, felt nice under his fingers when he ran them through it. Which he only did to make their act more convincing. Because if Ichigo was going to do that thing with his hand trailing over his hip bone, it would just look weird if he didn’t respond. Man, those pants really were tight, like a second skin; he could feel everything through them… Ichigo’s mouth moved away from his, over his neck instead. Bastard… how the hell was he supposed to respond to that-
“Stop breathing so hard,” Ichigo hissed into his ear. “I can’t hear over you. Sounds like they’re planning on meeting at the dock two nights from now, but I don’t know about the time-I think they’ve already decided on it.”
The mortification of realizing Ichigo had actually been paying attention to the conversation was enough to automatically ball Renji’s hand into a fist, but he was saved the trouble of following through. Ichigo was pulled backward by his collar, and Pantera’s not-so-happy face appeared between them.
“I’m really glad you two are over here enjoying each other-or whatever it is you’re doing-” another one of those penetrating looks in Renji’s direction “-but you guys work for me tonight.” He released Ichigo with extra enthusiasm, causing him to stumble a few steps. “Kid, you’re obviously the one with the brains, go wait on my other tables and don’t embarrass me.” Ichigo looked up at Renji, silently asking him what he should do.
“Go on, get the fuck out of here.” It came out harsher than he meant it to, but whatever. He’d do better gathering information on his own anyway. Hell, he was made to work alone. Making out to avoid attention… of all the stupid shit… Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly and headed off to one of the host’s other tables without so much as a backward glance. Bastard.
“Now, Ren, we’re gonna make some adjustments here.” Pantera’s hands gripped his shirt and pulled it halfway up his chest before Renji was able to get his fingers around the hem.
“What the hell-”
“I was right, those tattoos go all over… you take this off and tips are gonna go up by twenty percent.” They struggled for another moment before Pantera made a final threat. “Keep fightin’ me and you’re gonna be wearin’ my leather harness.”
Renji thought it was best to give up.
Things only went downhill from there. Nnoitra’s table ended up leaving almost immediately, and Renji could think of no way to get out of there without looking more suspicious than he already did, meaning he spent the next several hours condemned to pointless (and topless) trips back and forth to the bar, dodging drunken man-hands. In the meantime, Ichigo appeared to have settled into downing round after round at one of Pantera’s tables, expertly extricating free drinks from the guys sitting around it. When Renji grumbled a complaint, he was informed that Ichigo was actually making more money for the host by keeping the drinks coming than he would be by running back and forth to the bar, and that Renji should learn something from him.
Finally though, the club closed for the night, and the first thing Renji did was go to collect Ichigo. His face was planted firmly in the table, and Renji had to pull him up by his tie. “C’mon, brat, we’re getting out of here.” Ichigo snorted in a way that was probably his version of a giggle. Fuckin’ great, kid can’t hold his liquor. It wasn’t all that surprising though, when he thought about it; he was so young, he couldn’t possibly have had much time to practice. In any case, it looked like the verbal abuse and possible physical beating would have to wait until tomorrow, if he wanted Ichigo to remember it. And boy, did he want him to remember it.
He fixed his partner’s arm over his shoulder to help him stand up. “Where’s your shirt?” Ichigo slurred.
“Just shut up.” Damn, it’s like he’s trying to make himself as heavy as possible… Ichigo could barely keep his balance. “I hate you, by the way. Have I told you that before?”
“No, you don’t,” Ichigo answered matter-of-factly.
He hoped they’d have time to collect their clothes and get out of there before Pantera even came back to his room-maybe supervising cleanup or counting tips would keep him busy-but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The club host entered his room through the wardrobe door at the same time Renji dragged Ichigo in from the club. Saying goodnight to some other favorite clients, he surmised, tossing his partner onto the bed.
“You two really were great for business. One of the best nights I’ve had in a while.” He walked directly over to Renji, so close he could feel the heat of his body, and for a moment he thought Pantera was going to kiss him too. Perfect end to the perfect day, he thought miserably. But instead he kept talking. “And I have a lot of good nights, Ren, as you might imagine.”
“I’ll bet. Too bad I don’t care.”
“Relax. It ain’t like I’m interested in you.” He grinned. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got a great ass, and those tattoos aren’t bad, and it’s not like I’d mind it, but… you ain’t really my type. Too stiff. Your friend here though, now that I’ve had a chance to get to know him a little better…” He turned toward the bed, all his attention on Ichigo, and Renji felt a small pulse of uneasiness in his gut. “He comes off kinda innocent, but he’s actually pretty feisty. Just the way I like ‘em. Tell me the truth; are you two even really together?”
Renji didn’t answer, even when Pantera paused to look back in his direction.
“Look, I don’t know what you two were doin’ in here tonight, and I don’t want to. Fact is I hate those guys. All of ‘em. Think they’re entitled. Aizen too, he can go fuck himself. I need this job though, if I’m gonna get to the top of this game. Point is, I ain’t gonna tell on you. I gotta ask you a favor though. If you’re not really with this kid, let me know, ‘cause I could show him some stuff he wouldn’t forget.” In one fluid motion, like some kind of jungle cat, Pantera had straddled Ichigo and reached for his zipper. Ichigo sat up half way and mumbled out some kind of protest, but he was obviously way too drunk to stop him.
Immediately, Renji had Pantera off the bed and thrown backward against the wall.
“Fuck your bullshit. Don’t touch him, he’s-” oh, what the hell “-he’s mine.”
“Whoa there, cowboy.” Pantera was completely unfazed by the rough handling; in fact, to Renji’s great annoyance, he may have even been enjoying it. “Calm down, sorry if I was wrong. It wasn’t like I was gonna do anything to him, just gettin’ my clothes back. Messin’ with a guy when he’s not at the top of his game ain’t exactly my thing-just thought he might like somethin’ to remember me by, that’s all.” He kept his eyes on Renji as he pried his fingers out of his shirt, and returned them patronizingly to his sides. “So are you gonna undress him, or should I?”
“I’ll take care of it, asshole. Just keep your hands off him.” He was so flustered when he approached the bed he almost forgot to use his partner’s ‘nickname’. “Ichi.” No response, other than a barely-audible grunt. “Ichi, get undressed.” Again, nothing. Sighing, he knelt down on the bed to pull off his shoes. He probably should have been angrier, but the situation had left him feeling unusually protective. Better me than that guy, anyway.
On the other hand, he was kind of glad Pantera had already unzipped the suit pants, because that meant he didn’t have to. He comforted himself briefly with the fact that Ichigo would probably not remember any of this in the morning before reaching for them. “Lift up.” Ichigo obeyed easily. Fixing his fingers under the waistline, he pulled them down over his hips, over his boxer briefs, and resisted the urge to situate his hands so they didn’t graze against his skin. The soft hair on Ichigo’s legs brushed against the backs of his fingers, contrasting strangely with the compact muscle that was visible in the room’s carefully-designed lighting. Jeez, his legs go on forever… damn it, it really shouldn’t have felt so different from undressing himself. He let the pants drop to the floor.
The tie was easy enough to take care of, just needed to slide his fingers under the loop and pull… The shirt buttons, though, they were going to be harder to deal with. He checked back over his shoulder to find Pantera watching him with interest, arms crossed, another one of those expensive cigarettes dangling from his lips. Looks like I don’t have a choice. Throwing one leg clumsily over Ichigo’s hips, he reached down to undo the front of his dress shirt. He tried to do it as naturally as possible, make it look convincing so Pantera would take him seriously… One button at a time, he revealed Ichigo’s bare chest. Because of course Ichigo wasn’t wearing an undershirt, because that wouldn’t make things quite awkward enough to go with the rest of the night. He recalled his private rant from earlier in the evening about how easily Ichigo had found something in Pantera’s closet that actually looked good on him; it only followed that he’d look good without anything, too. Probably effortlessly. Come to think of it, Renji had never seen him work out during any of their extended assignments. He was tempted to drag one of his fingers over his abdomen, just lightly, as he pulled the shirt back from it, just to see if the muscles there were as firm as they looked. It’s impossible, the kid lives on potato chips and soda and those damn sugar things he calls energy bars…
An amused voice from next to the bed startled him. “If you’re done starin’ at your ‘boyfriend’ like you’ve never seen him undressed before… maybe you’d like his clothes?” He snatched the jeans and t-shirt out of Pantera’s hands, letting the angry silence that followed answer for him.
It seemed like it took forever to get Ichigo into those clothes, but he eventually did it, no thanks to Ichigo himself. He’s gonna owe me big time for this. He changed back into his own clothes afterward as quickly as possible, feeling both the relief of actually being out of those horrible leather pants and the aggravation of having to get undressed in front of the club host again. Finally though, they were both changed and ready to go, and he couldn’t remember having been more eager to leave a place in the recent past.
He had just persuaded Ichigo to wrap his arm over his shoulder one more time and hoisted him off the bed when Pantera spoke up. “Hey.” Renji didn’t stop to look, only paused for a brief second of acknowledgment. “I wasn’t kiddin’. Bring the kid back here sometime when he’s sober. Looks like he’d put up a good fight. Looks like he’d like to, if you know what I mean, and frankly I’m not sure you’re up to it.”
Those words awakened some unidentifiable feeling in him. He would have almost called it possessiveness, except that… that was wrong. Defensiveness, maybe that was more like it. Pantera had been wearing on him all night; it only made sense he had his hackles up. Hell, it was all Ichigo’s fault they’d ended up in there in the first place. He should want to throw him to this guy after all that.
He practically carried Ichigo over his shoulder in his hurry to get him out of there.
PART 2