RenIchi - Top Of The World (2/4)
Part 1
"Oh Ichigo, if you're too tired you can just go home! I can handle the factory with Althea and Iris!"
Ichigo made an unintelligible sound and lifted his head from the counter. He hadn't quite meant for Orihime to see him like that.
Perhaps the outstanding idea of going out after the catering job hadn't been outstanding at all. At the time, Ichigo just hadn't wanted to waste his buzz. Okay, so he hadn't seen Renji again and probably never would. So what. He'd had sex, he'd gotten a paycheck, and he'd already been out.
For the first time since he was eighteen, Ichigo had decided to go clubbing. He'd only gotten as far as barhopping, though, because he wasn't that mellow. He had texted Orihime not to wait up for him and then had more or less caught up with all the alcohol he couldn't drink during the party.
From that point he only remembered bits and pieces. Drinking some more, thinking about Renji, remembering some other shit, feeling like he shouldn't just sit there on his own, and finally, calling Shinji. Even as he was doing it he knew it was a dubious choice, but he hadn’t seen Shinji since he'd gotten back, and that man had mellow in the bag.
Looking at his phone the next day, Ichigo had found out he'd made some new friends at one point, given the new numbers on his contact list ("green haired chick", "badass guy", "WTF fro"). His newest friend, however, had been a hangover and the same shit he wasn't supposed to think about.
Genius that he was, he had gone to the factory anyway. He didn't need a therapist to tell him that he needed a distraction from his own thoughts, and he liked baking. The precision required, the heat. That he was actually great at it was a surprising bonus-he knew it hadn't been just pity that got him the job there. He was needed at the bakery. That was one of the reasons he couldn't bear leaving Orihime alone that morning.
So he'd shown up, taken one look at the cookbook he'd already memorized, and then gingerly put his head on the counter and tried not to nap. So he’d missed Orihime passing the window set in the wall between the front and back of the bakery, and of course that had been the moment she’d entered the back to take out the bread she'd already baked.
He straightened up the moment she spoke, biting back a pained grunt and trying a smile instead. He wasn't going to let her worry about him. "I'm fine, don't worry. I won't burn down the factory."
She laughed. When she had first rented the small bakery, she told them all she was managing it so well that it was like a small factory of baked goods. Ever since Ichigo had started working there he decided to roll with her on the factory thing, and every time he did she laughed. He'd kind of missed her brand of crazy when he’d lived in the city the first time around.
"Alright, but you can go anytime you want. Friday isn't exactly the busiest day," she said. There was still worry in her eyes, but her voice was sweet and Ichigo was just… grateful.
"I know. D'you want me to start with cookies?" he asked. He wasn't prepared to get up just yet, so he brought the cookbook to where he was sitting (the sulking corner-close enough to the window to hear when he had an order, but still hidden from view when he needed to sit down). He leafed through.
She hummed. "Oh, just do whatever you like."
"I want you to start off the day with something delicious," he said, looking more closely at the chocolate section of the book.
He looked up when he heard her snort, and stuck out his tongue. A comment like that would have made her blush, eight years ago, when she was more innocent and he was straighter and Karakura was all there was. Now they were twenty three and Orihime had more or less sexiled him a couple of times (he knew things were serious between her and her boyfriend, but he couldn't remember the guy's long, Spanish name), so he guessed they were cool.
"Maybe some chocolate drop cookies?" he asked, triumphant. Orihime had an inhuman dislike for foods that only had one dominant ingredient (Ichigo would take pure chocolate bars over... anything, any day), so despite the fact chocolate and walnuts actually went well together (if unsupervised she would add vegetables to the mix), he thought she would be pleased.
She beamed at him, and reached out to help him climb on his feet. "Sounds delicious. You do that while I get the bread out."
He thought she kept talking about something, but he'd already zoned out, focusing on the ingredients while washing his hands. The cookies were easy enough to make and he didn't have to worry about aesthetics since they would only be for them, Althea and Iris. Since the factory was known for serving freshly made pastries, Ichigo couldn't just make cookies and hope someone would drop by in the next fifteen minutes with a craving for his chocolate drops, delicious as they were.
The next time he noticed something was going on around him was ten minutes later. He'd just inserted the cookie tray into the smallest oven and thought about helping Orihime with the bread when he heard a voice from the front of the bakery. It wasn't mere recognition; it was being thrown back to last night, pinned to a wall with that deep voice murmuring profanities in his ear.
His heartbeat quickened, and he turned around slowly, trying to buy as much time to calm down as possible. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he didn't even remember it right. A lot of alcohol had entered his bloodstream since then.
Or maybe he knew exactly who it was, and now he was staring through the window at Renji Abarai, casually looking at the pastries on display and calling to Orihime that no problem, he could wait for her to come to the front.
He wore a basic black sweatshirt, tight jeans and really red sunglasses. The hoodie wasn't covering his head and Ichigo stared at his hair. It was in a loose ponytail, and had been swept aside so it covered a part of Renji's weird-ass hairline and was really just... he looked good. Too good for eight a.m., definitely. And the sunglasses were just weird. He was indoors, for fuck's sake.
He looked up suddenly, probably sensing that he was being watched, and Ichigo really had no way of preparing before their eyes locked. At least, that was what he thought was happening. With the sunglasses on, Renji could have been looking at the fascinating wallpaper for all Ichigo knew. It was more likely that he'd spotted Ichigo, though, given the way his mouth opened a bit and his face flushed subtly.
Renji resolutely walked over to the window separating them, but once he was there, he leaned back on the tall chair behind him with all the insouciance of an underwear model. He rested his sunglasses on the top of his head, pushing back his hair, and Ichigo could finally see that he was being stared at.
It made him slightly uncomfortable. He had to say something. "The fuck are you doing here?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. "Coffee," he said, simply. His voice sounded rough to Ichigo's ears, in a "hung-over, fuck you universe" way. He felt instant camaraderie with the guy. "What are you doing here?"
Ichigo stared. "I'm standing in the back of a bakery, next to an oven, wearing oven mitts, talking to a costumer. I'm a cowboy."
Renji didn't seem so smug anymore. "You're a jackass. It's fuck o'clock in the morning, can't you just be nice to a costumer?" It really didn't sound like a plea or a request or even anything serious, so Ichigo didn't take it seriously.
"Not really feeling it, no." He guessed he could be nice, but really, fuck o'clock in the morning, a guy he thought he'd never see again, feeling like his brain had been mauled by Satan. Ichigo was saying the first things that came to him. Not a wide selection of quips and anecdotes and nice things, but he made do.
Renji growled weakly, glaring at Ichigo. "How do pricks like you end up in customer service?"
"The same way pricks like you get to cater at high-end parties and wear sunglasses indoors."
He must have said something wrong, because Renji smirked at him. "My sunglasses are amazing. And, by the way, I'm not a-"
"Alright!" Orihime's chirpy voice suddenly interrupted their deep discussion. They both turned to look at her, a bit startled, when she entered the front. "So sorry to keep you waiting, sir," she went on, closing in on Renji, all smiles. "Do you want to sit-oh my god."
The smile dropped from her face. She stopped short. Her eyes… twinkled. And Ichigo knew, somehow, that that was more than a hot guy reaction. Going by Renji's expression, this had happened before.
So, Ichigo was confused. "You two know each other?" he hazarded. Orihime gave him such a look that he wanted to duck under the window, but he refrained from it.
Her expression softened after a second, like she remembered that they were close friends or something. "Of course, you don't recognize him. He became famous when you were… back home. His name is Renji Abarai, and he's one of the leads on Bleach."
"What? The TV show?" he asked Renji directly. That probably reminded Orihime that Renji was in the room with them, and she blushed to the roots of her hair and apologized in every way possible and twice in French.
Renji nodded politely at her and smiled, but he seemed more interested in Ichigo, which felt quite nice, actually. He didn't even wait for Orihime to seat him; instead he just plopped down on the chair in front of Ichigo. His eyes never left him for too long, and Ichigo really didn't know what to make of him.
Renji sitting down in front of him was as much of an invitation to talk as any. "You're not with the catering company, are you?" he asked. It wasn't that he felt betrayed, because Renji hadn't lied, and it didn't really matter anyway. It was just weird to think that he'd fucked some kind of celebrity.
Renji smirked at him, and Ichigo was kind of relieved that he stopped looking as awkward as he had when Orihime had recognized him. "I was invited to a Kuchiki Productions party, I wasn't wearing a uniform or serving anyone anything, and I wore Ray-Bans that cost more than your ass. I'm an astronaut."
Ichigo would have punched Renji out if it hadn’t been for that smile. It was a toss-up between annoyance, telling him "well-played", defending the value of his ass, and trying not to feel like an idiot. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"
It took them both a second to remember the last time Ichigo had said that to Renji. Once they had, they both stiffened and shut their mouths.
Bless Orihime for interrupting. She put a big mug of what could have been motor oil in front of Renji.
"So, you two know each other, really?" she asked. Ichigo noticed that she looked at a chair hesitantly, like she wasn't sure if she could sit, or just what to do with herself. Ichigo wasn't sure what he wanted her to do with herself either.
Meanwhile, he and Renji had a staring contest going on, because he couldn't find it in him to look away and Renji looked at him like a curious cat would and he thought they were both replaying last night in their minds and they probably needed to start a conversation.
"Uh. Remember the catering thing I did yesterday? We met there." He wasn't sure how much he could disclose right then.
Renji didn't have that problem. "We did a little more than that." He said it with that smug look of his, and Orihime blushed after a moment and Ichigo wanted to hit him just for making her uncomfortable. So he did: he reached over and flicked Renji's ear.
Renji was stunned, almost disarmed. Ichigo's stomach dropped, but he kept a determined look on his face. He kept it on up to the point that Renji got up from his chair, ceremoniously putting his sunglasses on the table, and cuffed Ichigo's head. It rattled him, but it hurt more because of the hangover than because Renji had intended to hurt him.
Had Renji never been in a fight before? Or was he just… friendly? Were scuffles supposed to forge friendships? (Ichigo could almost hear his therapist smacking his forehead and mourning the two years they'd spent proving that point wrong.)
Since Renji was already on his feet, Ichigo went with it, punching his shoulder. And Renji was grinning, like Ichigo picking a fight with him was amazing. Then he did something just weird.
He raised his hand to Ichigo's neck, but instead of doing anything that made sense, he ran his thumb over the hickey he had left, at the base of Ichigo's neck. He shivered. The spot was still tender and, despite the touch being almost gentle, Renji's hands were anything but soft. His thumb still there, he curled the rest of his fingers around Ichigo's nape, playing with his hair. Ichigo forgot what they were fighting about.
A shrill beep from his oven startled him. His sense of responsibility trumping his sense of… Renji, he shook Renji's hand off and turned around, opening the oven and carefully taking the tray out. He nearly dropped it when he noticed Iris just standing there, glaring at him from under her black bangs.
He had a feeling that Orihime's girls didn't like him. Or rather, the fact he was the new guy who had a natural knack for making great desserts while they probably had histories with cooking, baking with their moms or something. They made him feel like a faker more often than not. He offered Iris a taste of the hot chocolate drops, repentant. She declined, but at least she dropped the glare.
He moved the cookies to the rack for some cooling and, after a moment, gave up on having a productive morning. He took off his orange oven mitts and stepped into the front of the bakery, heading for Renji's table. It had only been five minutes since he'd taken his eyes off him, but somehow Renji was already in deep conversation with Orihime. She wasn't blushing anymore, which was excellent, and Renji seemed so engaged in charming her pants off that Ichigo had to chuckle.
Where Orihime had hesitated to pull out a chair for herself, Ichigo just sat down in front of Renji without a word. He saw Renji glancing at him, but he looked determined to keep his attention on Orihime.
"No way, Rukia sent you here?" she asked. Ichigo was still looking at Renji, but he could hear her excitement. "She's so nice! And pretty, isn't she?"
A shadow crossed Renji's features, and his smile became more polite than anything. He nodded. Orihime must have been too charmed to notice any of it, and Ichigo decided to join in before she said something else about the pretty girl they'd been talking about.
"Why are you even up so early, Renji? You look fucked."
Renji barked a laugh before Ichigo could even regret opening his mouth. "My set is up the street. Celebrities have to work harder than you brats, you know."
Ichigo snorted. "Some celebrity you are. Who even let you work in TV, with your tattoos and… mouth…"
Oh, great. Now he was staring at Renji's mouth. He noticed that it was slightly bruised, and that he wanted to-
"I'm full of talent," Renji said, smirking slowly, privately.
"You're full of shit. I bet you just took off your-"
"I'll go make you that banana muffin!" Orihime suddenly chimed in. She left them after apologizing again.
They looked at each other for a long moment, until it morphed into Ichigo staring at Renji drink his coffee, which was weird, so he stopped and looked at the table instead.
"So. Really? You do catering shit and you work at a bakery?"
Ichigo cleared his throat. "As hardcore as I look, I don't actually spend my time setting people on fire."
He looked up when Renji nudged his ankle under the table.
"Your ears are really pierced."
Ichigo unconsciously ran his fingers over his left ear, pierced from the lobe to the top of the cartilage. It was nothing obnoxious (he liked stud designs well enough but he hated stretching), three small black hoops and one scaffold barbell (a green one. Even Ichigo's piercings were mellow now).
"Your everything is really tattooed," he countered. Luckily, Renji didn't start running his fingers over his tattoos.
"But is it… I mean, is it a ritual?" Renji asked. He sounded genuinely interested, and the question itself meant his tattoos were some kind of ritual.
Ichigo thought about what to say. "Used to be. Now I just keep them 'cause they're cool." He nudged Renji's foot, just because.
Renji laughed. "I like them. Punk."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Shut up." Then, well, it needed to be said. "I can't believe you're here."
"Because it's too good to be true? Or because nobody else is here?"
Ichigo wasn't going to let Renji disparage the bakery. "It's not-it's early! Friday morning people just go to Starbucks-only freaks with no real jobs would-just shut up."
He was telling the truth about mornings. It usually gave him enough time to make croissants and other really good hot stuff.
Renji sensed that he'd pushed it, and raised his hands. "Chill, man. I just wanted some coffee. I didn't think I'd see you, either."
"I'm not as easy to randomly come across as you, y'know. It's understandable that you looked me up." Ichigo chuckled when Renji glared at him.
"I didn't, you prick. People are usually nicer to me after they find out I'm famous." He didn't actually seem upset. The tone wasn't even whiny. It was rather amazing how much control Renji had over his tone, despite being groggy and looking fucked, tired mouth and eyes.
"I'm nicer than you are. At least I'm not trying to give your best friend a heart attack."
Renji laughed again. It was in that moment that Ichigo realized his morning was going extremely well. He managed a small smile when he told Renji, "Your muffin is ready."
Renji arched an eyebrow. "Is that a euphe-"
"Your muffin is ready!" Orihime declared, entering the front with a tray, on which were two plates. One was small and only had Renji's muffin on it-oh, the smell-and the other was bigger and was full of Ichigo's cookies. His smile turned into a grin. The cookies looked good.
"Did you tell the girls?" he asked, wary of what might happen if he didn't share his breakfast with all the staff.
Orihime clicked her tongue at him. "Of course I did. They grabbed some. Althea said thank you, and Iris didn't say anything. Um." She looked at Renji, some nervousness seeping into her voice. "Help yourself," she added, gesturing toward the cookies.
The self-satisfied look Renji shot him was way too telling for a guy he'd only met once. It meant that Renji realized Ichigo would have let him eat his cookies over his dead body if it had been up to him, and that something he baked on a whim wasn't what he usually shared with costumers, and that this was not cool.
It seemed that being nice to Orihime was more pressing to him than sticking it to Ichigo, since Renji took the muffin before he made a pass at his cookies.
It became clear in two seconds that Renji was not fastidious. Ichigo almost felt sorry for the muffin. It got wolfed down like Renji hadn't eaten all week, but he licked up all the crumbs and looked at Orihime with pure gratitude, and her cheeks got a bit redder and her smile was happy. That was slightly redeeming.
Of course, then Renji looked at Ichigo's cookies with interest, and Ichigo readied himself for battle. He knew Orihime would frown upon him smacking Renji's hands away from the plate, but he wasn't going to look happy about it.
Maybe he was still a little drunk (or high. With Shinji's company it was anybody's guess), but things had meaning. Renji eating the first cookie Ichigo had made that day after a nice conversation after a trippy night after they'd had sex, well, they might end up with a friendship.
Renji didn't see any of that. He unceremoniously picked up a cookie and put the whole thing in his mouth, popping the drop and making a nice, surprised face when he felt the walnuts. Then his eyes closed and he smiled in joy and Ichigo really wanted to feed him more stuff.
Only after overcoming the urge did Ichigo take a chocolate drop for himself. The downside of sneaking into the culinary world was that, when he tasted something, it didn't rank from "terrible" to "delicious". It ranked from "what were you thinking?" to "Good job". That particular batch was "you can do better".
He still ate one after the other (it was chocolate and he was hungry), but he made a mental note to bake Renji something better. He wasn't expecting to gain Renji's respect, not after sleeping with him without knowing more than his name, but he might as well try.
He knew he was staring, but who wouldn't, with Renji staring back and licking chocolate off his thumb. Between the looks and Orihime standing by their table with a tray, it felt like a date at a restaurant. Where the waitress helped herself to some dessert and gave Ichigo a pensive look while she figured out the most positive thing to say.
Ichigo almost smiled when she went with, "What a sweet way to start the day!"
Renji snorted over his coffee, but gave her a thumb-up. He tilted his head back and finished up the coffee. Then he licked his lips and sighed.
"Better?" Ichigo asked, at a loss.
Renji nodded, grinning. "Much better. Despite your miserable company."
"You mean, thanks to my brilliant company," Ichigo corrected. Renji pointedly rubbed the ear that Ichigo had flicked, making him chuckle. "You had it coming."
"Why? Were you getting off on thinking you were my dirty little secret?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. "No, I just don't see why sex should be brought up like-don't look at me like I'm crazy!"
Renji opted for not looking at him at all. Ichigo could tell he was amused and knew that, despite being a celebrity or whatever, in Ichigo's mind Renji would always remain what he was last night and that morning. Easy. Easygoing, easy to get along with, easy to please and easy to irritate.
Also, hot. His sweater clung to his arms and the V-neck showed the very tips of the tattoos on his chest. Sitting there and talking to him was probably better than Ichigo's original plan of going to sleep in the sulking corner.
"We should, you know…" Renji muttered, peeking up at him and nudging his foot. Was he… timid?
Ichigo was about to discreetly encourage him, when the door to the back swung open and Althea marched out. She went straight toward them, the only living things in the bakery. Ichigo briefly wondered if she'd recognized Renji, but that thought died down when she put a hand on Orihime's shoulder and said, "Sweetie, I'm taking my nine o'clock break."
Orihime smiled. Ichigo nodded. Althea left. Renji fucking leaped to his feet, pulling out his iPhone. "It's nine! Holy f-crap!"
Ichigo let out a stunned laugh because Renji was being careful not to swear around fans after declaring he'd had sex with a guy at a party. He pulled the hoodie over his head, gave Ichigo a hesitant look, and grabbed another chocolate drop.
When he put his iPhone back in his pocket he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and left it on the table, causing Orihime's eyes to widen.
"That's too much, sir," she immediately said, staring at Renji.
He smiled broadly at her. "Don't sweat it, I ate some cookies and bothered you guys, didn't I?"
"Still-"
"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole, I'm just really late." He sounded honest, but apparently the guy was an actor, so who knew. "Have a good one!"
With that, he turned around and walked out of the bakery.
Ichigo sat there like an idiot for a moment, staring at where Renji had sat before his mad dash. Idiot. Still no number, still no way to reach him, still Ichigo wanted him.
Orihime's hand entered his peripheral vision, taking the last chocolate drop. "I can't believe it," she muttered, mouth full of chocolate.
"I think he really wasn't trying to be an asshole to you," he tried to assure her. Even if he was lying, it might make her feel better.
Her eyes turned to him, huge and unblinking. "I can't believe you had sex with Renji Abarai!"
Oh, that. Ichigo rubbed his eyes, trying not to bang his head against the table. "I didn't know he was famous. It's not like I watched a lot of TV in Karakura."
Orihime brushed that off, diving into another sentence quickly. "We should do a couple of marathons, then. Bleach became really popular here last year, we were so happy when it got a second season. I can't believe they're filming it so close by! Did I make a fool out of myself in front of him? Do you think he'll come back? Rukia said they'd start sending an assistant here to bring coffee and pastries to the set in the mornings, but I didn't think I'd get a visit from an actor! Oh god, Renji complimented my banana muffin. Should I tell Ulquiorra? I have to."
Ichigo remained silent during the star-struck babbling, but there was one thing that caught his attention. The factory was going to start delivering to the Kuchiki Productions set. That was fucking great. It would make up for the slow mornings and keep Orihime excited.
It might even be his link to Renji. So not desperate, he was.
"Oh no!" Orihime yelled unexpectedly, causing Ichigo to jump up. "Renji left his sunglasses here!"
Fuck's sake… It took him a moment to recover from the unnecessary fright Orihime had given him, only to realize that she was right. Behind the coffee mug were Renji's sunglasses. Only… Ichigo noticed a crack in the red frame. Had Orihime set the tray on them?
Ichigo grabbed the sunglasses as soon as he saw the crack and kept it hidden from Orihime. "I'll take care of it."
They were both alerted by the front door when three people came in at once, Althea shuffling behind them. Ichigo used that chance to tuck the sunglasses into his pocket and stood up. "Where do you want me?"
Orihime put on her business smile. "Go inside and heat up the ovens. Start with some cheesecakes and pies for noon. I'll tell you if they came in for something hot and not just the cookies at the front."
He just nodded, picked up the tray and joined Iris in the back.
Ichigo felt a lot better, all in all.
*
"Has your dog disappeared again?" Rangiku asked, putting a comforting hand on Renji's shoulder. Comfort Renji didn't need, because seriously. He didn't care what his co-stars said, he didn't look like his dog had reappeared only to disappear again, or like his house had been trashed, or like someone had switched all his booze with piss (Renji didn't ask how Iba had come up with that idea). He wasn't mourning. He was just sad.
They were his third favorite sunglasses, okay? They looked like the first pair he'd ever bought, which broke one day while he’d been walking-okay, chasing-Zabimaru.
Of course he'd been late even after running to the set like an idiot, and of course he'd gotten his ass kicked. He'd only sensed the tragic disappearance at noon. The sunglasses must have dropped somewhere between the set and the bakery, but Renji hadn't had time to retrace his steps.
Before he knew it, it was Friday night and the bakery was closed. Renji may have been sad and desperate and pathetic, but he was insistent on one point. If he went through the trouble of looking Ichigo up (didn't get his number. Again), it would be to ask him the fuck out, not to beg for his sunglasses. Which actually said a lot about how much he liked Ichigo.
It was startling to see Ichigo at the bakery in the morning-staring at him, visibly hung-over and tousled and pierced and hot-but even more startling was having Ichigo insult him, hit him and amuse him, and Renji was actually enjoying the morning after the Kuchiki bash for the first time ever. Then there were the delicious cookies. It was hard to believe that Ichigo baked for a living, but Renji was perpetually hungry and the only thing he could make himself was kickass whipped cream, so that worked out nicely.
If there hadn't been that to focus on, Renji really would have found a way to aggressively mourn his sunglasses and give Rangiku a real reason to pat him.
Renji grumbled noncommittally in response to her question. They'd already wrapped up for the day, and met outside their dressing rooms. They were walking out, Rangiku in high heels and him in worn-out boots.
"Overworked, underfucked?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. Renji felt himself grin.
"Half true," he said, making her giggle.
"I don't see the downside there," she said, elbowing him. "Cheer up! We still have a job!"
That actually never failed to cheer him up. It had been three months since season two had started filming, but still no one had gotten used to the fact that Bleach had been renewed. It was a small miracle.
Generally, Bleach was ridiculous. It was about brave teenagers led by Toshiro Hitsugaya and sword-wielding crazy adults led by Renji, about stupid jokes and ghosts and superpowers and hardcore fights, but most of all, it was about a ridiculous story told seriously, in modern times and an urban landscape.
It was a Kuchiki Productions show, the same company that had birthed the multimillion television productions of King Lear and The Imaginary Invalid. Of course Byakuya Kuchiki had come from the theater world, and of course he made those of humbler backgrounds feel like dirt. Bleach was "the lulzy TV project", as the Internet eloquently called it (Renji googled himself extensively when he was too tired to jerk off). It was also Byakuya Kuchiki's gift to Rukia, more than anything.
The miracle was that Bleach had actually become popular. It had started off with eight episodes just to prove that they were serious, and then the Gotei 13 television network had ordered fourteen more episodes (Renji suspected the Internet had something to do with that) and before Renji knew it, they'd wrapped up a full season of the stupidest show on television.
Renji had never even thought about acting before Rukia had dragged him to audition for her project, but it grew on him. The money definitely did, but also his role, his coworkers, doing his own stunts, even the acting classes Kuchiki forced him to take after he'd passed his final audition. He knew Kuchiki still thought it was a fluke and that Renji was far beneath him, and he was probably right. Just thinking about it made Renji forget how far he'd come and fuck up.
He hadn't really thought of Bleach as the chance of a lifetime. Well, he’d hoped it wasn't. He'd even thought it would be okay if he royally blew it at some point, since he wasn't the protagonist. He'd hoped to stay under the radar.
Then came the fans. Renji had lived in Seireitei for almost half of his life, so most of the people there knew him already and he hadn't noticed people recognizing him from the show. That changed after the eighth episode had aired, which was also the first one that focused on Renji's character.
He'd been in his favorite music store minding his own business, when an eighteen year old girl with neat sunglasses on the top of her head had come up to him and told him point blank that she'd been a fan of his and that he'd been the best thing on Bleach. Renji had looked around him. Renji had realized that she'd been speaking to him. Renji had returned the CD he'd been holding to where he'd found it, smiled at her, and promptly left the store to contemplate.
None of the cast had thought they'd make it-hell, Renji was pretty sure Rukia hadn't thought they'd make it and she was the producer, but then she called him late one night in May to tell him that Bleach had a green light for season two. Renji had promptly hung up on her to contemplate. Once he'd moved past that, he'd gone to finish the tattoos on his back and gotten wasted.
And there he was, walking out of his dressing room with Rangiku Matsumoto, hottest woman in Seireitei (she had won a poll and become insufferable for two weeks straight), and yeah, he had a pretty sweet job for once.
"Go out with me and Nanao," Rangiku asked, suddenly. "You know you're unbearable when you mope-Bleach can't be too serious."
Voicing how inconsolable he was after the loss of a pair of sunglasses was one of the things Renji was above of. Still, the thought of going out made him remember his hellish hangover from the morning. "This week's been a little too much, sorry," he said.
Rangiku snorted. Not the most attractive sound, but she could afford a few of those with that cleavage. "Suit yourself. Take care, Renji." She kissed him on the cheek and started walking toward her pink Beetle, already texting.
Renji waited until he saw her getting into the car safely, and then walked toward the road himself, waiting for his ride. Rikichi came not a moment too soon, pulling up and smiling brightly at Renji. The moment Renji got in, he found himself holding a large cup of iced tea and his schedule for next week. The former was very appreciated. As for the latter…
"So what're you up to this weekend?" he asked. Anything to distract the guy.
By the time Monday rolled around, Renji had had some well-deserved rest, and a new pair of sunglasses (a trendy oversized Dior) to help get over his loss. His expectations for Monday were that he'd stay on his feet throughout the day.
They did not include Yamada looking for him again. Maybe it was irrational to want to run and hide, given the fact that last time Yamada had come up to him Renji had met Ichigo again, but he was still skirting around the Rukia issue and didn't know where they stood.
Before he could think of a good hiding place Yamada caught up to him. Renji froze. Renji stared.
Yamada was holding his sunglasses.
What the fuck? "What the fuck?" he asked, rushing forward and grabbing the sunglasses. Oh, they were his-red and plastic and awesome.
"I thought these belonged to you," Yamada said. He sounded relieved, and Renji thought he was smiling but he didn't look at him to check because his sunglasses had found their way back to him like magic.
"Where did you find them?" he asked, inspecting the pair. It didn't take him long to find something wrong-there was a small crack along one of the sides, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Yamada was the prophet of Fortunate Things. Yamada was to be cherished. Yamada was to be first-name-memorized.
"Um, remember the bakery I sent you to last week?" he answered, making Renji snap his eyes up. The only thing that could make the day better was if he got another chance to go there.
Yamada must have seen the hopefulness in Renji's eyes and, being Rukia's man, he knew how to squash it. "I'm afraid you can't go back there, Mr. Abarai, since you came back late last time. However, when I went there to bring Ms. Kuchiki coffee and muffins, a worker there gave me these and a note for you. At first I didn't believe him, you know how people get, but I thought I recognized the-"
"A note?" Renji interrupted, his interest piqued. Hell, he felt a little excited. Other than the constant surprise of being in a television series, the mornings were pretty mundane most of the time. Plus he might have kept thinking about Ichigo over the weekend, so a note from him was, yeah, just enough to make Renji giddy.
He nearly tore the note from Yamada's hands when the kid took it out of his bag. Renji hung the sunglasses on the collar of his shirt and unfolded the note. He could have sworn that it smelled like chocolate.
I thought about trying to fix that crack, but celebrity fuckwad sunglasses cost a fucking lot and I didn't dare trying to repair them. Not all of us are on superstar salaries despite being talentless.
Ichigo
Renji read it twice, just to make sure he understood it all, and then cracked up. What was he supposed to say to that? He wanted to tell Ichigo that his sunglasses collection was his one indulgence, and that he'd started it before he became a celebrity fuckwad, and that he had some talent after two seasons, for fuck's sake. Only then he realized that he wasn't supposed to excuse himself to Ichigo anyway, and thought of something else.
He looked up, and gave Yamada the most authoritative look he could muster. "Hanatarou, my man." By the way Yamada perked up, Renji knew he'd guessed both the tone and the name right. "Thanks for giving me these."
"Oh, really, it's no trouble. I mean, it is, but Ms. Rukia told me to do it," Yamada said, honestly. Renji didn't know how to process that information, but his goal was in sight.
"Then she wouldn't mind if I gave you a note to give back to that worker, would she? When are you going back there? Today or tomorrow? Next time you're there, I want you to give this note to the guy there."
He didn't dare gauging Yamada's reaction, so he didn't even look in his direction. Instead he dug into his bag for a pen and wrote on the back of Ichigo's note: So how does it feel to be a fuckwad, talentless, and underpaid? (THANK YOU)
He put it in Yamada's palm and then rested both of his hands on Yamada's shoulders, giving him an approving smile. "Don't let me down, Hanatarou. You can run it by Rukia if you want, just get this note to the guy with the orange hair, his name's Ichigo Kurosaki."
Any minute now, he thought, Yamada would realize that Renji had no authority over him. But eventually, a minute passed, and he didn't hear no. Either Yamada was an idiot or despicably nice. Yamada was a god.
Renji wandered onto the set with two pairs of sunglasses hanging on his shirt and a grin on his face. He had a feeling episode sixteen would be exceptionally goofy as far as his performance went, but whatever, it was just Bleach.
Renji loved a Monday.
*
"I have something for Mr. Kurosaki?" Ichigo heard a hesitant voice from the front of the shop.
It made him suspicious, to say the least. He didn't get snail mail often, or anything, really, not in Karakura and not in Seireitei. Let alone got addressed as "Mr. Kurosaki". It being so early in the morning didn't help sharpening his mind. He wiped flour on his apron and glanced out of the window.
At the guy who'd shown up yesterday from Kuchiki Productions.
Thank fuck, Ichigo thought, immensely relieved that he hadn't given a half-assed note and Renji's sunglasses to a random guy claiming to be from the production company. Then the fact that he had something for him sank in.
Ichigo leaned over the pane, waving the guy toward him. "What is it?" he asked, impatient.
The man reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a scrap of paper-the one Ichigo had used the previous day, actually. He'd barely held out his hand before Ichigo grabbed the note.
He laughed when he read it. Actually laughed, despite the Tuesday-morning-almost-burned-my-hands-and-cupcakes-off-ness of the moment. And the fact that Renji had insulted him. Maybe it was the capital letters that cracked him up, or that he was dead on about Renji's feelings for douchey sunglasses. Suddenly, he had a plan.
"What's your name?" he asked the guy while folding the note and putting it in his jeans pocket.
His big blue eyes widened, and he stuttered over, "Hanatarou Yamada, sir."
Ichigo considered for a moment. Orihime wouldn't approve of his plan, his coworkers wouldn't approve of his plan, and really, he shouldn't approve of his plan. But it would be funny, and he had to send Renji some sort of reply. A weird indirect back-and-forth was better than none.
"Hanatarou, my man. You wouldn't mind giving Renji something back, would you?"
Ichigo picked up a cupcake.
*
"What the fuck?" Renji wondered, taking the small package from Yamada. It smelled like-but it couldn't be-oh my god, a cupcake.
He had no idea how to react to that. Getting cupcakes in packages was fucking weird, and coming from Ichigo… Renji suspected serious trouble. He still reached into the package and took the cupcake out, because, come on.
His suspicions were verified when he looked at the thing. There was writing on it. It said, in blue and merry frosting, "Have a crappy day!"
Renji stared at the cupcake some more, and then grumbled to himself, and then started laughing, and then ate it, because, come on. When he finished he noticed that Yamada was still standing there, looking at his BlackBerry with his harried expression, and Renji just had to.
What he delivered back to Ichigo was a note that said, "Well-played". He had a feeling that wouldn't be the end of it, and he was right. Ichigo sent him another note just to tease him about his less-than-respectful occupation, and Renji opened fire.
The whole thing lasted a week, like a really long, choppy, dumb and delicious conversation. Renji only put a stop to it on Friday morning, when he got a note with a nasty drawing, and only because he felt bad for Yamada. That had also been the first time that he really realized Yamada was Rukia's personal assistant, and that the only reason Renji had gotten away with using him as an errand boy was that Rukia had let him do it. Which meant that Rukia knew about Renji's backwards-flirting.
He thought he would feel something other than amusement. The need to defend himself to her, or to prove that he wasn’t flirting, or to at least feel disloyal. Maybe he’d gotten over her when she'd turned him down. Maybe he’d gotten over her when Byakuya Kuchiki had taken her in.
The thought felt like a sucker punch, but… it was a relief of sorts. Having that epiphany in front of Yamada spoiled it a bit, but it made him more convincing when he asked Yamada to deliver one last note to the bakery.
Yamada just nodded, putting his BlackBerry in his pocket and handing Renji a piece of paper and a pen. Renji smiled at him and tried to think of someone suave he could pretend to be. In the end, he wrote: I think Yamada will notice that handling us isn’t in his job description. What's your phone number, anyway?
He folded it an extra time, as if Yamada might peek at it or something, and gave it back. The next day he couldn't help but grin when he got a small package. It smelled like cupcakes again, but this time there was a note on top of the package.
It said: Hanatarou loves me. I think he's a god.
Renji laughed, and after a moment's hesitation, handed the note back to Yamada. It was rather amusing to watch his eyes widen more than usual, and then he sputtered. The kid was so elegant sometimes.
He snatched the package and opened the lid. Definitely a cupcake, that had… Yes, it was pink and merry frosting spelling a phone number. Renji more or less grinned like an asshole and pushed his sunglasses up his nose.
He was self-conscious enough to worry that he was trying to replace Rukia with Ichigo, or that he was using him, but when he really thought about it he couldn’t compare how he thought about the two. Rukia had been his whole world, in the past. Rukia had been his past. Ichigo made him frustrated and giddy at the same time, and he looked forward to the next time he got a note or a cupcake, and maybe that was what mattered.
Dismissing Yamada, he realized that he didn't give a fuck about texting too soon. 'Finally! I think Yamada has been my producer's tattletale all along and she spread some rumors.'
The reply came only a minute later, and Renji could just picture Ichigo, trying to bend his phone to his will using his oven mitts. Maybe he dropped the frown for a moment while he wrote, 'That you're passing me notes like a high school girl?'
Renji snorted. 'No that a crazy fan is trying to give me diabetes.'
'That's me, the crazy fan. OMG I can't believe I saw Renji Abarai he's so tall IRL'
He must have developed some skill, after meeting Ichigo, to identify a very low-key compliment when he saw one. Ichigo hadn't intended for him to be that pleased with himself, but there it was. Before he could reply with something that would tick Ichigo off, he heard Ikkaku call him in from the building entrance.
Shit. He wrote quickly, 'Gotta go talk to you later' and rushed inside.
Three hours later he checked his phone again, to find two new messages. The older one said, "ok superstar", and the second one said, "I didn't mean that your height is anything impressive."
A very nice image sprung to Renji's mind, of Ichigo rereading his sent messages just to make sure they didn't present Renji in a positive light.
Renji texted back immediately.
Part 3
"Oh Ichigo, if you're too tired you can just go home! I can handle the factory with Althea and Iris!"
Ichigo made an unintelligible sound and lifted his head from the counter. He hadn't quite meant for Orihime to see him like that.
Perhaps the outstanding idea of going out after the catering job hadn't been outstanding at all. At the time, Ichigo just hadn't wanted to waste his buzz. Okay, so he hadn't seen Renji again and probably never would. So what. He'd had sex, he'd gotten a paycheck, and he'd already been out.
For the first time since he was eighteen, Ichigo had decided to go clubbing. He'd only gotten as far as barhopping, though, because he wasn't that mellow. He had texted Orihime not to wait up for him and then had more or less caught up with all the alcohol he couldn't drink during the party.
From that point he only remembered bits and pieces. Drinking some more, thinking about Renji, remembering some other shit, feeling like he shouldn't just sit there on his own, and finally, calling Shinji. Even as he was doing it he knew it was a dubious choice, but he hadn’t seen Shinji since he'd gotten back, and that man had mellow in the bag.
Looking at his phone the next day, Ichigo had found out he'd made some new friends at one point, given the new numbers on his contact list ("green haired chick", "badass guy", "WTF fro"). His newest friend, however, had been a hangover and the same shit he wasn't supposed to think about.
Genius that he was, he had gone to the factory anyway. He didn't need a therapist to tell him that he needed a distraction from his own thoughts, and he liked baking. The precision required, the heat. That he was actually great at it was a surprising bonus-he knew it hadn't been just pity that got him the job there. He was needed at the bakery. That was one of the reasons he couldn't bear leaving Orihime alone that morning.
So he'd shown up, taken one look at the cookbook he'd already memorized, and then gingerly put his head on the counter and tried not to nap. So he’d missed Orihime passing the window set in the wall between the front and back of the bakery, and of course that had been the moment she’d entered the back to take out the bread she'd already baked.
He straightened up the moment she spoke, biting back a pained grunt and trying a smile instead. He wasn't going to let her worry about him. "I'm fine, don't worry. I won't burn down the factory."
She laughed. When she had first rented the small bakery, she told them all she was managing it so well that it was like a small factory of baked goods. Ever since Ichigo had started working there he decided to roll with her on the factory thing, and every time he did she laughed. He'd kind of missed her brand of crazy when he’d lived in the city the first time around.
"Alright, but you can go anytime you want. Friday isn't exactly the busiest day," she said. There was still worry in her eyes, but her voice was sweet and Ichigo was just… grateful.
"I know. D'you want me to start with cookies?" he asked. He wasn't prepared to get up just yet, so he brought the cookbook to where he was sitting (the sulking corner-close enough to the window to hear when he had an order, but still hidden from view when he needed to sit down). He leafed through.
She hummed. "Oh, just do whatever you like."
"I want you to start off the day with something delicious," he said, looking more closely at the chocolate section of the book.
He looked up when he heard her snort, and stuck out his tongue. A comment like that would have made her blush, eight years ago, when she was more innocent and he was straighter and Karakura was all there was. Now they were twenty three and Orihime had more or less sexiled him a couple of times (he knew things were serious between her and her boyfriend, but he couldn't remember the guy's long, Spanish name), so he guessed they were cool.
"Maybe some chocolate drop cookies?" he asked, triumphant. Orihime had an inhuman dislike for foods that only had one dominant ingredient (Ichigo would take pure chocolate bars over... anything, any day), so despite the fact chocolate and walnuts actually went well together (if unsupervised she would add vegetables to the mix), he thought she would be pleased.
She beamed at him, and reached out to help him climb on his feet. "Sounds delicious. You do that while I get the bread out."
He thought she kept talking about something, but he'd already zoned out, focusing on the ingredients while washing his hands. The cookies were easy enough to make and he didn't have to worry about aesthetics since they would only be for them, Althea and Iris. Since the factory was known for serving freshly made pastries, Ichigo couldn't just make cookies and hope someone would drop by in the next fifteen minutes with a craving for his chocolate drops, delicious as they were.
The next time he noticed something was going on around him was ten minutes later. He'd just inserted the cookie tray into the smallest oven and thought about helping Orihime with the bread when he heard a voice from the front of the bakery. It wasn't mere recognition; it was being thrown back to last night, pinned to a wall with that deep voice murmuring profanities in his ear.
His heartbeat quickened, and he turned around slowly, trying to buy as much time to calm down as possible. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he didn't even remember it right. A lot of alcohol had entered his bloodstream since then.
Or maybe he knew exactly who it was, and now he was staring through the window at Renji Abarai, casually looking at the pastries on display and calling to Orihime that no problem, he could wait for her to come to the front.
He wore a basic black sweatshirt, tight jeans and really red sunglasses. The hoodie wasn't covering his head and Ichigo stared at his hair. It was in a loose ponytail, and had been swept aside so it covered a part of Renji's weird-ass hairline and was really just... he looked good. Too good for eight a.m., definitely. And the sunglasses were just weird. He was indoors, for fuck's sake.
He looked up suddenly, probably sensing that he was being watched, and Ichigo really had no way of preparing before their eyes locked. At least, that was what he thought was happening. With the sunglasses on, Renji could have been looking at the fascinating wallpaper for all Ichigo knew. It was more likely that he'd spotted Ichigo, though, given the way his mouth opened a bit and his face flushed subtly.
Renji resolutely walked over to the window separating them, but once he was there, he leaned back on the tall chair behind him with all the insouciance of an underwear model. He rested his sunglasses on the top of his head, pushing back his hair, and Ichigo could finally see that he was being stared at.
It made him slightly uncomfortable. He had to say something. "The fuck are you doing here?"
Renji raised an eyebrow. "Coffee," he said, simply. His voice sounded rough to Ichigo's ears, in a "hung-over, fuck you universe" way. He felt instant camaraderie with the guy. "What are you doing here?"
Ichigo stared. "I'm standing in the back of a bakery, next to an oven, wearing oven mitts, talking to a costumer. I'm a cowboy."
Renji didn't seem so smug anymore. "You're a jackass. It's fuck o'clock in the morning, can't you just be nice to a costumer?" It really didn't sound like a plea or a request or even anything serious, so Ichigo didn't take it seriously.
"Not really feeling it, no." He guessed he could be nice, but really, fuck o'clock in the morning, a guy he thought he'd never see again, feeling like his brain had been mauled by Satan. Ichigo was saying the first things that came to him. Not a wide selection of quips and anecdotes and nice things, but he made do.
Renji growled weakly, glaring at Ichigo. "How do pricks like you end up in customer service?"
"The same way pricks like you get to cater at high-end parties and wear sunglasses indoors."
He must have said something wrong, because Renji smirked at him. "My sunglasses are amazing. And, by the way, I'm not a-"
"Alright!" Orihime's chirpy voice suddenly interrupted their deep discussion. They both turned to look at her, a bit startled, when she entered the front. "So sorry to keep you waiting, sir," she went on, closing in on Renji, all smiles. "Do you want to sit-oh my god."
The smile dropped from her face. She stopped short. Her eyes… twinkled. And Ichigo knew, somehow, that that was more than a hot guy reaction. Going by Renji's expression, this had happened before.
So, Ichigo was confused. "You two know each other?" he hazarded. Orihime gave him such a look that he wanted to duck under the window, but he refrained from it.
Her expression softened after a second, like she remembered that they were close friends or something. "Of course, you don't recognize him. He became famous when you were… back home. His name is Renji Abarai, and he's one of the leads on Bleach."
"What? The TV show?" he asked Renji directly. That probably reminded Orihime that Renji was in the room with them, and she blushed to the roots of her hair and apologized in every way possible and twice in French.
Renji nodded politely at her and smiled, but he seemed more interested in Ichigo, which felt quite nice, actually. He didn't even wait for Orihime to seat him; instead he just plopped down on the chair in front of Ichigo. His eyes never left him for too long, and Ichigo really didn't know what to make of him.
Renji sitting down in front of him was as much of an invitation to talk as any. "You're not with the catering company, are you?" he asked. It wasn't that he felt betrayed, because Renji hadn't lied, and it didn't really matter anyway. It was just weird to think that he'd fucked some kind of celebrity.
Renji smirked at him, and Ichigo was kind of relieved that he stopped looking as awkward as he had when Orihime had recognized him. "I was invited to a Kuchiki Productions party, I wasn't wearing a uniform or serving anyone anything, and I wore Ray-Bans that cost more than your ass. I'm an astronaut."
Ichigo would have punched Renji out if it hadn’t been for that smile. It was a toss-up between annoyance, telling him "well-played", defending the value of his ass, and trying not to feel like an idiot. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"
It took them both a second to remember the last time Ichigo had said that to Renji. Once they had, they both stiffened and shut their mouths.
Bless Orihime for interrupting. She put a big mug of what could have been motor oil in front of Renji.
"So, you two know each other, really?" she asked. Ichigo noticed that she looked at a chair hesitantly, like she wasn't sure if she could sit, or just what to do with herself. Ichigo wasn't sure what he wanted her to do with herself either.
Meanwhile, he and Renji had a staring contest going on, because he couldn't find it in him to look away and Renji looked at him like a curious cat would and he thought they were both replaying last night in their minds and they probably needed to start a conversation.
"Uh. Remember the catering thing I did yesterday? We met there." He wasn't sure how much he could disclose right then.
Renji didn't have that problem. "We did a little more than that." He said it with that smug look of his, and Orihime blushed after a moment and Ichigo wanted to hit him just for making her uncomfortable. So he did: he reached over and flicked Renji's ear.
Renji was stunned, almost disarmed. Ichigo's stomach dropped, but he kept a determined look on his face. He kept it on up to the point that Renji got up from his chair, ceremoniously putting his sunglasses on the table, and cuffed Ichigo's head. It rattled him, but it hurt more because of the hangover than because Renji had intended to hurt him.
Had Renji never been in a fight before? Or was he just… friendly? Were scuffles supposed to forge friendships? (Ichigo could almost hear his therapist smacking his forehead and mourning the two years they'd spent proving that point wrong.)
Since Renji was already on his feet, Ichigo went with it, punching his shoulder. And Renji was grinning, like Ichigo picking a fight with him was amazing. Then he did something just weird.
He raised his hand to Ichigo's neck, but instead of doing anything that made sense, he ran his thumb over the hickey he had left, at the base of Ichigo's neck. He shivered. The spot was still tender and, despite the touch being almost gentle, Renji's hands were anything but soft. His thumb still there, he curled the rest of his fingers around Ichigo's nape, playing with his hair. Ichigo forgot what they were fighting about.
A shrill beep from his oven startled him. His sense of responsibility trumping his sense of… Renji, he shook Renji's hand off and turned around, opening the oven and carefully taking the tray out. He nearly dropped it when he noticed Iris just standing there, glaring at him from under her black bangs.
He had a feeling that Orihime's girls didn't like him. Or rather, the fact he was the new guy who had a natural knack for making great desserts while they probably had histories with cooking, baking with their moms or something. They made him feel like a faker more often than not. He offered Iris a taste of the hot chocolate drops, repentant. She declined, but at least she dropped the glare.
He moved the cookies to the rack for some cooling and, after a moment, gave up on having a productive morning. He took off his orange oven mitts and stepped into the front of the bakery, heading for Renji's table. It had only been five minutes since he'd taken his eyes off him, but somehow Renji was already in deep conversation with Orihime. She wasn't blushing anymore, which was excellent, and Renji seemed so engaged in charming her pants off that Ichigo had to chuckle.
Where Orihime had hesitated to pull out a chair for herself, Ichigo just sat down in front of Renji without a word. He saw Renji glancing at him, but he looked determined to keep his attention on Orihime.
"No way, Rukia sent you here?" she asked. Ichigo was still looking at Renji, but he could hear her excitement. "She's so nice! And pretty, isn't she?"
A shadow crossed Renji's features, and his smile became more polite than anything. He nodded. Orihime must have been too charmed to notice any of it, and Ichigo decided to join in before she said something else about the pretty girl they'd been talking about.
"Why are you even up so early, Renji? You look fucked."
Renji barked a laugh before Ichigo could even regret opening his mouth. "My set is up the street. Celebrities have to work harder than you brats, you know."
Ichigo snorted. "Some celebrity you are. Who even let you work in TV, with your tattoos and… mouth…"
Oh, great. Now he was staring at Renji's mouth. He noticed that it was slightly bruised, and that he wanted to-
"I'm full of talent," Renji said, smirking slowly, privately.
"You're full of shit. I bet you just took off your-"
"I'll go make you that banana muffin!" Orihime suddenly chimed in. She left them after apologizing again.
They looked at each other for a long moment, until it morphed into Ichigo staring at Renji drink his coffee, which was weird, so he stopped and looked at the table instead.
"So. Really? You do catering shit and you work at a bakery?"
Ichigo cleared his throat. "As hardcore as I look, I don't actually spend my time setting people on fire."
He looked up when Renji nudged his ankle under the table.
"Your ears are really pierced."
Ichigo unconsciously ran his fingers over his left ear, pierced from the lobe to the top of the cartilage. It was nothing obnoxious (he liked stud designs well enough but he hated stretching), three small black hoops and one scaffold barbell (a green one. Even Ichigo's piercings were mellow now).
"Your everything is really tattooed," he countered. Luckily, Renji didn't start running his fingers over his tattoos.
"But is it… I mean, is it a ritual?" Renji asked. He sounded genuinely interested, and the question itself meant his tattoos were some kind of ritual.
Ichigo thought about what to say. "Used to be. Now I just keep them 'cause they're cool." He nudged Renji's foot, just because.
Renji laughed. "I like them. Punk."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Shut up." Then, well, it needed to be said. "I can't believe you're here."
"Because it's too good to be true? Or because nobody else is here?"
Ichigo wasn't going to let Renji disparage the bakery. "It's not-it's early! Friday morning people just go to Starbucks-only freaks with no real jobs would-just shut up."
He was telling the truth about mornings. It usually gave him enough time to make croissants and other really good hot stuff.
Renji sensed that he'd pushed it, and raised his hands. "Chill, man. I just wanted some coffee. I didn't think I'd see you, either."
"I'm not as easy to randomly come across as you, y'know. It's understandable that you looked me up." Ichigo chuckled when Renji glared at him.
"I didn't, you prick. People are usually nicer to me after they find out I'm famous." He didn't actually seem upset. The tone wasn't even whiny. It was rather amazing how much control Renji had over his tone, despite being groggy and looking fucked, tired mouth and eyes.
"I'm nicer than you are. At least I'm not trying to give your best friend a heart attack."
Renji laughed again. It was in that moment that Ichigo realized his morning was going extremely well. He managed a small smile when he told Renji, "Your muffin is ready."
Renji arched an eyebrow. "Is that a euphe-"
"Your muffin is ready!" Orihime declared, entering the front with a tray, on which were two plates. One was small and only had Renji's muffin on it-oh, the smell-and the other was bigger and was full of Ichigo's cookies. His smile turned into a grin. The cookies looked good.
"Did you tell the girls?" he asked, wary of what might happen if he didn't share his breakfast with all the staff.
Orihime clicked her tongue at him. "Of course I did. They grabbed some. Althea said thank you, and Iris didn't say anything. Um." She looked at Renji, some nervousness seeping into her voice. "Help yourself," she added, gesturing toward the cookies.
The self-satisfied look Renji shot him was way too telling for a guy he'd only met once. It meant that Renji realized Ichigo would have let him eat his cookies over his dead body if it had been up to him, and that something he baked on a whim wasn't what he usually shared with costumers, and that this was not cool.
It seemed that being nice to Orihime was more pressing to him than sticking it to Ichigo, since Renji took the muffin before he made a pass at his cookies.
It became clear in two seconds that Renji was not fastidious. Ichigo almost felt sorry for the muffin. It got wolfed down like Renji hadn't eaten all week, but he licked up all the crumbs and looked at Orihime with pure gratitude, and her cheeks got a bit redder and her smile was happy. That was slightly redeeming.
Of course, then Renji looked at Ichigo's cookies with interest, and Ichigo readied himself for battle. He knew Orihime would frown upon him smacking Renji's hands away from the plate, but he wasn't going to look happy about it.
Maybe he was still a little drunk (or high. With Shinji's company it was anybody's guess), but things had meaning. Renji eating the first cookie Ichigo had made that day after a nice conversation after a trippy night after they'd had sex, well, they might end up with a friendship.
Renji didn't see any of that. He unceremoniously picked up a cookie and put the whole thing in his mouth, popping the drop and making a nice, surprised face when he felt the walnuts. Then his eyes closed and he smiled in joy and Ichigo really wanted to feed him more stuff.
Only after overcoming the urge did Ichigo take a chocolate drop for himself. The downside of sneaking into the culinary world was that, when he tasted something, it didn't rank from "terrible" to "delicious". It ranked from "what were you thinking?" to "Good job". That particular batch was "you can do better".
He still ate one after the other (it was chocolate and he was hungry), but he made a mental note to bake Renji something better. He wasn't expecting to gain Renji's respect, not after sleeping with him without knowing more than his name, but he might as well try.
He knew he was staring, but who wouldn't, with Renji staring back and licking chocolate off his thumb. Between the looks and Orihime standing by their table with a tray, it felt like a date at a restaurant. Where the waitress helped herself to some dessert and gave Ichigo a pensive look while she figured out the most positive thing to say.
Ichigo almost smiled when she went with, "What a sweet way to start the day!"
Renji snorted over his coffee, but gave her a thumb-up. He tilted his head back and finished up the coffee. Then he licked his lips and sighed.
"Better?" Ichigo asked, at a loss.
Renji nodded, grinning. "Much better. Despite your miserable company."
"You mean, thanks to my brilliant company," Ichigo corrected. Renji pointedly rubbed the ear that Ichigo had flicked, making him chuckle. "You had it coming."
"Why? Were you getting off on thinking you were my dirty little secret?"
Oh, for fuck's sake. "No, I just don't see why sex should be brought up like-don't look at me like I'm crazy!"
Renji opted for not looking at him at all. Ichigo could tell he was amused and knew that, despite being a celebrity or whatever, in Ichigo's mind Renji would always remain what he was last night and that morning. Easy. Easygoing, easy to get along with, easy to please and easy to irritate.
Also, hot. His sweater clung to his arms and the V-neck showed the very tips of the tattoos on his chest. Sitting there and talking to him was probably better than Ichigo's original plan of going to sleep in the sulking corner.
"We should, you know…" Renji muttered, peeking up at him and nudging his foot. Was he… timid?
Ichigo was about to discreetly encourage him, when the door to the back swung open and Althea marched out. She went straight toward them, the only living things in the bakery. Ichigo briefly wondered if she'd recognized Renji, but that thought died down when she put a hand on Orihime's shoulder and said, "Sweetie, I'm taking my nine o'clock break."
Orihime smiled. Ichigo nodded. Althea left. Renji fucking leaped to his feet, pulling out his iPhone. "It's nine! Holy f-crap!"
Ichigo let out a stunned laugh because Renji was being careful not to swear around fans after declaring he'd had sex with a guy at a party. He pulled the hoodie over his head, gave Ichigo a hesitant look, and grabbed another chocolate drop.
When he put his iPhone back in his pocket he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and left it on the table, causing Orihime's eyes to widen.
"That's too much, sir," she immediately said, staring at Renji.
He smiled broadly at her. "Don't sweat it, I ate some cookies and bothered you guys, didn't I?"
"Still-"
"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole, I'm just really late." He sounded honest, but apparently the guy was an actor, so who knew. "Have a good one!"
With that, he turned around and walked out of the bakery.
Ichigo sat there like an idiot for a moment, staring at where Renji had sat before his mad dash. Idiot. Still no number, still no way to reach him, still Ichigo wanted him.
Orihime's hand entered his peripheral vision, taking the last chocolate drop. "I can't believe it," she muttered, mouth full of chocolate.
"I think he really wasn't trying to be an asshole to you," he tried to assure her. Even if he was lying, it might make her feel better.
Her eyes turned to him, huge and unblinking. "I can't believe you had sex with Renji Abarai!"
Oh, that. Ichigo rubbed his eyes, trying not to bang his head against the table. "I didn't know he was famous. It's not like I watched a lot of TV in Karakura."
Orihime brushed that off, diving into another sentence quickly. "We should do a couple of marathons, then. Bleach became really popular here last year, we were so happy when it got a second season. I can't believe they're filming it so close by! Did I make a fool out of myself in front of him? Do you think he'll come back? Rukia said they'd start sending an assistant here to bring coffee and pastries to the set in the mornings, but I didn't think I'd get a visit from an actor! Oh god, Renji complimented my banana muffin. Should I tell Ulquiorra? I have to."
Ichigo remained silent during the star-struck babbling, but there was one thing that caught his attention. The factory was going to start delivering to the Kuchiki Productions set. That was fucking great. It would make up for the slow mornings and keep Orihime excited.
It might even be his link to Renji. So not desperate, he was.
"Oh no!" Orihime yelled unexpectedly, causing Ichigo to jump up. "Renji left his sunglasses here!"
Fuck's sake… It took him a moment to recover from the unnecessary fright Orihime had given him, only to realize that she was right. Behind the coffee mug were Renji's sunglasses. Only… Ichigo noticed a crack in the red frame. Had Orihime set the tray on them?
Ichigo grabbed the sunglasses as soon as he saw the crack and kept it hidden from Orihime. "I'll take care of it."
They were both alerted by the front door when three people came in at once, Althea shuffling behind them. Ichigo used that chance to tuck the sunglasses into his pocket and stood up. "Where do you want me?"
Orihime put on her business smile. "Go inside and heat up the ovens. Start with some cheesecakes and pies for noon. I'll tell you if they came in for something hot and not just the cookies at the front."
He just nodded, picked up the tray and joined Iris in the back.
Ichigo felt a lot better, all in all.
*
"Has your dog disappeared again?" Rangiku asked, putting a comforting hand on Renji's shoulder. Comfort Renji didn't need, because seriously. He didn't care what his co-stars said, he didn't look like his dog had reappeared only to disappear again, or like his house had been trashed, or like someone had switched all his booze with piss (Renji didn't ask how Iba had come up with that idea). He wasn't mourning. He was just sad.
They were his third favorite sunglasses, okay? They looked like the first pair he'd ever bought, which broke one day while he’d been walking-okay, chasing-Zabimaru.
Of course he'd been late even after running to the set like an idiot, and of course he'd gotten his ass kicked. He'd only sensed the tragic disappearance at noon. The sunglasses must have dropped somewhere between the set and the bakery, but Renji hadn't had time to retrace his steps.
Before he knew it, it was Friday night and the bakery was closed. Renji may have been sad and desperate and pathetic, but he was insistent on one point. If he went through the trouble of looking Ichigo up (didn't get his number. Again), it would be to ask him the fuck out, not to beg for his sunglasses. Which actually said a lot about how much he liked Ichigo.
It was startling to see Ichigo at the bakery in the morning-staring at him, visibly hung-over and tousled and pierced and hot-but even more startling was having Ichigo insult him, hit him and amuse him, and Renji was actually enjoying the morning after the Kuchiki bash for the first time ever. Then there were the delicious cookies. It was hard to believe that Ichigo baked for a living, but Renji was perpetually hungry and the only thing he could make himself was kickass whipped cream, so that worked out nicely.
If there hadn't been that to focus on, Renji really would have found a way to aggressively mourn his sunglasses and give Rangiku a real reason to pat him.
Renji grumbled noncommittally in response to her question. They'd already wrapped up for the day, and met outside their dressing rooms. They were walking out, Rangiku in high heels and him in worn-out boots.
"Overworked, underfucked?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. Renji felt himself grin.
"Half true," he said, making her giggle.
"I don't see the downside there," she said, elbowing him. "Cheer up! We still have a job!"
That actually never failed to cheer him up. It had been three months since season two had started filming, but still no one had gotten used to the fact that Bleach had been renewed. It was a small miracle.
Generally, Bleach was ridiculous. It was about brave teenagers led by Toshiro Hitsugaya and sword-wielding crazy adults led by Renji, about stupid jokes and ghosts and superpowers and hardcore fights, but most of all, it was about a ridiculous story told seriously, in modern times and an urban landscape.
It was a Kuchiki Productions show, the same company that had birthed the multimillion television productions of King Lear and The Imaginary Invalid. Of course Byakuya Kuchiki had come from the theater world, and of course he made those of humbler backgrounds feel like dirt. Bleach was "the lulzy TV project", as the Internet eloquently called it (Renji googled himself extensively when he was too tired to jerk off). It was also Byakuya Kuchiki's gift to Rukia, more than anything.
The miracle was that Bleach had actually become popular. It had started off with eight episodes just to prove that they were serious, and then the Gotei 13 television network had ordered fourteen more episodes (Renji suspected the Internet had something to do with that) and before Renji knew it, they'd wrapped up a full season of the stupidest show on television.
Renji had never even thought about acting before Rukia had dragged him to audition for her project, but it grew on him. The money definitely did, but also his role, his coworkers, doing his own stunts, even the acting classes Kuchiki forced him to take after he'd passed his final audition. He knew Kuchiki still thought it was a fluke and that Renji was far beneath him, and he was probably right. Just thinking about it made Renji forget how far he'd come and fuck up.
He hadn't really thought of Bleach as the chance of a lifetime. Well, he’d hoped it wasn't. He'd even thought it would be okay if he royally blew it at some point, since he wasn't the protagonist. He'd hoped to stay under the radar.
Then came the fans. Renji had lived in Seireitei for almost half of his life, so most of the people there knew him already and he hadn't noticed people recognizing him from the show. That changed after the eighth episode had aired, which was also the first one that focused on Renji's character.
He'd been in his favorite music store minding his own business, when an eighteen year old girl with neat sunglasses on the top of her head had come up to him and told him point blank that she'd been a fan of his and that he'd been the best thing on Bleach. Renji had looked around him. Renji had realized that she'd been speaking to him. Renji had returned the CD he'd been holding to where he'd found it, smiled at her, and promptly left the store to contemplate.
None of the cast had thought they'd make it-hell, Renji was pretty sure Rukia hadn't thought they'd make it and she was the producer, but then she called him late one night in May to tell him that Bleach had a green light for season two. Renji had promptly hung up on her to contemplate. Once he'd moved past that, he'd gone to finish the tattoos on his back and gotten wasted.
And there he was, walking out of his dressing room with Rangiku Matsumoto, hottest woman in Seireitei (she had won a poll and become insufferable for two weeks straight), and yeah, he had a pretty sweet job for once.
"Go out with me and Nanao," Rangiku asked, suddenly. "You know you're unbearable when you mope-Bleach can't be too serious."
Voicing how inconsolable he was after the loss of a pair of sunglasses was one of the things Renji was above of. Still, the thought of going out made him remember his hellish hangover from the morning. "This week's been a little too much, sorry," he said.
Rangiku snorted. Not the most attractive sound, but she could afford a few of those with that cleavage. "Suit yourself. Take care, Renji." She kissed him on the cheek and started walking toward her pink Beetle, already texting.
Renji waited until he saw her getting into the car safely, and then walked toward the road himself, waiting for his ride. Rikichi came not a moment too soon, pulling up and smiling brightly at Renji. The moment Renji got in, he found himself holding a large cup of iced tea and his schedule for next week. The former was very appreciated. As for the latter…
"So what're you up to this weekend?" he asked. Anything to distract the guy.
By the time Monday rolled around, Renji had had some well-deserved rest, and a new pair of sunglasses (a trendy oversized Dior) to help get over his loss. His expectations for Monday were that he'd stay on his feet throughout the day.
They did not include Yamada looking for him again. Maybe it was irrational to want to run and hide, given the fact that last time Yamada had come up to him Renji had met Ichigo again, but he was still skirting around the Rukia issue and didn't know where they stood.
Before he could think of a good hiding place Yamada caught up to him. Renji froze. Renji stared.
Yamada was holding his sunglasses.
What the fuck? "What the fuck?" he asked, rushing forward and grabbing the sunglasses. Oh, they were his-red and plastic and awesome.
"I thought these belonged to you," Yamada said. He sounded relieved, and Renji thought he was smiling but he didn't look at him to check because his sunglasses had found their way back to him like magic.
"Where did you find them?" he asked, inspecting the pair. It didn't take him long to find something wrong-there was a small crack along one of the sides, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. Yamada was the prophet of Fortunate Things. Yamada was to be cherished. Yamada was to be first-name-memorized.
"Um, remember the bakery I sent you to last week?" he answered, making Renji snap his eyes up. The only thing that could make the day better was if he got another chance to go there.
Yamada must have seen the hopefulness in Renji's eyes and, being Rukia's man, he knew how to squash it. "I'm afraid you can't go back there, Mr. Abarai, since you came back late last time. However, when I went there to bring Ms. Kuchiki coffee and muffins, a worker there gave me these and a note for you. At first I didn't believe him, you know how people get, but I thought I recognized the-"
"A note?" Renji interrupted, his interest piqued. Hell, he felt a little excited. Other than the constant surprise of being in a television series, the mornings were pretty mundane most of the time. Plus he might have kept thinking about Ichigo over the weekend, so a note from him was, yeah, just enough to make Renji giddy.
He nearly tore the note from Yamada's hands when the kid took it out of his bag. Renji hung the sunglasses on the collar of his shirt and unfolded the note. He could have sworn that it smelled like chocolate.
I thought about trying to fix that crack, but celebrity fuckwad sunglasses cost a fucking lot and I didn't dare trying to repair them. Not all of us are on superstar salaries despite being talentless.
Ichigo
Renji read it twice, just to make sure he understood it all, and then cracked up. What was he supposed to say to that? He wanted to tell Ichigo that his sunglasses collection was his one indulgence, and that he'd started it before he became a celebrity fuckwad, and that he had some talent after two seasons, for fuck's sake. Only then he realized that he wasn't supposed to excuse himself to Ichigo anyway, and thought of something else.
He looked up, and gave Yamada the most authoritative look he could muster. "Hanatarou, my man." By the way Yamada perked up, Renji knew he'd guessed both the tone and the name right. "Thanks for giving me these."
"Oh, really, it's no trouble. I mean, it is, but Ms. Rukia told me to do it," Yamada said, honestly. Renji didn't know how to process that information, but his goal was in sight.
"Then she wouldn't mind if I gave you a note to give back to that worker, would she? When are you going back there? Today or tomorrow? Next time you're there, I want you to give this note to the guy there."
He didn't dare gauging Yamada's reaction, so he didn't even look in his direction. Instead he dug into his bag for a pen and wrote on the back of Ichigo's note: So how does it feel to be a fuckwad, talentless, and underpaid? (THANK YOU)
He put it in Yamada's palm and then rested both of his hands on Yamada's shoulders, giving him an approving smile. "Don't let me down, Hanatarou. You can run it by Rukia if you want, just get this note to the guy with the orange hair, his name's Ichigo Kurosaki."
Any minute now, he thought, Yamada would realize that Renji had no authority over him. But eventually, a minute passed, and he didn't hear no. Either Yamada was an idiot or despicably nice. Yamada was a god.
Renji wandered onto the set with two pairs of sunglasses hanging on his shirt and a grin on his face. He had a feeling episode sixteen would be exceptionally goofy as far as his performance went, but whatever, it was just Bleach.
Renji loved a Monday.
*
"I have something for Mr. Kurosaki?" Ichigo heard a hesitant voice from the front of the shop.
It made him suspicious, to say the least. He didn't get snail mail often, or anything, really, not in Karakura and not in Seireitei. Let alone got addressed as "Mr. Kurosaki". It being so early in the morning didn't help sharpening his mind. He wiped flour on his apron and glanced out of the window.
At the guy who'd shown up yesterday from Kuchiki Productions.
Thank fuck, Ichigo thought, immensely relieved that he hadn't given a half-assed note and Renji's sunglasses to a random guy claiming to be from the production company. Then the fact that he had something for him sank in.
Ichigo leaned over the pane, waving the guy toward him. "What is it?" he asked, impatient.
The man reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a scrap of paper-the one Ichigo had used the previous day, actually. He'd barely held out his hand before Ichigo grabbed the note.
He laughed when he read it. Actually laughed, despite the Tuesday-morning-almost-burned-my-hands-and-cupcakes-off-ness of the moment. And the fact that Renji had insulted him. Maybe it was the capital letters that cracked him up, or that he was dead on about Renji's feelings for douchey sunglasses. Suddenly, he had a plan.
"What's your name?" he asked the guy while folding the note and putting it in his jeans pocket.
His big blue eyes widened, and he stuttered over, "Hanatarou Yamada, sir."
Ichigo considered for a moment. Orihime wouldn't approve of his plan, his coworkers wouldn't approve of his plan, and really, he shouldn't approve of his plan. But it would be funny, and he had to send Renji some sort of reply. A weird indirect back-and-forth was better than none.
"Hanatarou, my man. You wouldn't mind giving Renji something back, would you?"
Ichigo picked up a cupcake.
*
"What the fuck?" Renji wondered, taking the small package from Yamada. It smelled like-but it couldn't be-oh my god, a cupcake.
He had no idea how to react to that. Getting cupcakes in packages was fucking weird, and coming from Ichigo… Renji suspected serious trouble. He still reached into the package and took the cupcake out, because, come on.
His suspicions were verified when he looked at the thing. There was writing on it. It said, in blue and merry frosting, "Have a crappy day!"
Renji stared at the cupcake some more, and then grumbled to himself, and then started laughing, and then ate it, because, come on. When he finished he noticed that Yamada was still standing there, looking at his BlackBerry with his harried expression, and Renji just had to.
What he delivered back to Ichigo was a note that said, "Well-played". He had a feeling that wouldn't be the end of it, and he was right. Ichigo sent him another note just to tease him about his less-than-respectful occupation, and Renji opened fire.
The whole thing lasted a week, like a really long, choppy, dumb and delicious conversation. Renji only put a stop to it on Friday morning, when he got a note with a nasty drawing, and only because he felt bad for Yamada. That had also been the first time that he really realized Yamada was Rukia's personal assistant, and that the only reason Renji had gotten away with using him as an errand boy was that Rukia had let him do it. Which meant that Rukia knew about Renji's backwards-flirting.
He thought he would feel something other than amusement. The need to defend himself to her, or to prove that he wasn’t flirting, or to at least feel disloyal. Maybe he’d gotten over her when she'd turned him down. Maybe he’d gotten over her when Byakuya Kuchiki had taken her in.
The thought felt like a sucker punch, but… it was a relief of sorts. Having that epiphany in front of Yamada spoiled it a bit, but it made him more convincing when he asked Yamada to deliver one last note to the bakery.
Yamada just nodded, putting his BlackBerry in his pocket and handing Renji a piece of paper and a pen. Renji smiled at him and tried to think of someone suave he could pretend to be. In the end, he wrote: I think Yamada will notice that handling us isn’t in his job description. What's your phone number, anyway?
He folded it an extra time, as if Yamada might peek at it or something, and gave it back. The next day he couldn't help but grin when he got a small package. It smelled like cupcakes again, but this time there was a note on top of the package.
It said: Hanatarou loves me. I think he's a god.
Renji laughed, and after a moment's hesitation, handed the note back to Yamada. It was rather amusing to watch his eyes widen more than usual, and then he sputtered. The kid was so elegant sometimes.
He snatched the package and opened the lid. Definitely a cupcake, that had… Yes, it was pink and merry frosting spelling a phone number. Renji more or less grinned like an asshole and pushed his sunglasses up his nose.
He was self-conscious enough to worry that he was trying to replace Rukia with Ichigo, or that he was using him, but when he really thought about it he couldn’t compare how he thought about the two. Rukia had been his whole world, in the past. Rukia had been his past. Ichigo made him frustrated and giddy at the same time, and he looked forward to the next time he got a note or a cupcake, and maybe that was what mattered.
Dismissing Yamada, he realized that he didn't give a fuck about texting too soon. 'Finally! I think Yamada has been my producer's tattletale all along and she spread some rumors.'
The reply came only a minute later, and Renji could just picture Ichigo, trying to bend his phone to his will using his oven mitts. Maybe he dropped the frown for a moment while he wrote, 'That you're passing me notes like a high school girl?'
Renji snorted. 'No that a crazy fan is trying to give me diabetes.'
'That's me, the crazy fan. OMG I can't believe I saw Renji Abarai he's so tall IRL'
He must have developed some skill, after meeting Ichigo, to identify a very low-key compliment when he saw one. Ichigo hadn't intended for him to be that pleased with himself, but there it was. Before he could reply with something that would tick Ichigo off, he heard Ikkaku call him in from the building entrance.
Shit. He wrote quickly, 'Gotta go talk to you later' and rushed inside.
Three hours later he checked his phone again, to find two new messages. The older one said, "ok superstar", and the second one said, "I didn't mean that your height is anything impressive."
A very nice image sprung to Renji's mind, of Ichigo rereading his sent messages just to make sure they didn't present Renji in a positive light.
Renji texted back immediately.
Part 3