Grey smoke rose up in thick tendrils around the burnt remains of half of Kuchiki Byakuya’s once regal home. Battered and scorched pieces of wood battled valiantly to remain upright before falling over with a crash, causing everyone present to cringe and wince as the thick smell of fire washed through the area. Clumps of ice clustered strangely on intact portions of the roof, and water dripped down from the scorched trees nearby.
A wind stirred.
“What the hell happened here?” Hitsugaya questioned, face pinched with surprise and a bit of anger at being awakened at three in the morning. He glared at the remains of a blaze, which had nearly threatened to destroy all of Seireitei.
Ukitake shook his head, clucking his tongue. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that Shunsui has been playing with matches again.” He laughed lightly, despite the stares being sent his way, and a small cough escaped him.
The two white-haired captains had been called to put the fire out, doing so in record time. And now, little by little, the other members of the Gotei 13 were arriving, fearing an assassination attempt on the Kuchiki heir.
Standing there, staring in what might have been considered a mournful expression were it anyone else but Kuchiki Byakuya, a very frazzled sixth division captain glared at the remains of his home. It was unlivable, he decided. At least, for the moment. And strangely enough, Rukia’s room was entirely untouched.
Ichigo rubbed the back of his head, managing to look just as confused as everyone else. “I don’t think anyone left the fires going,” he commented lightly, raising an eyebrow when four pairs of eyes turned in his direction.
All at once, his presence was finally noticed.
Hitsugaya’s eyes widened in abject shock as he openly gaped, unable to maintain his usual calm appearance. His gaze darted between Byakuya and Ichigo, both looking ruffled and half-dressed, standing strangely near to each other. He paused, tilting his head in thought.
Why was Kurosaki in Soul Society in the first place?
Beside Hitsugaya, Rukia giggled, casting both men a knowing expression. “Nii-sama,” she began in an amused tone. “Are you wearing anything beneath your captain’s robe?” she questioned, already knowing the answer. After all, he was clutching quite desperately to the folds of his cloak, keeping it clasped tightly around his body.
True enough, other than the sword clasped urgently in one hand and the scarf haphazardly tossed around his neck, Byakuya didn’t exactly seem dressed for the occasion. His hair, free from the kenseikan, fluttered wildly about his face, and black, sooty smudge marks decorated his fair complexion.
Still, what surprised Hitsugaya the most was not the faintly blushing Kuchiki heir, despite the fact that for once Byakuya did not look perfect as usual. Even in the midst of battle, with blood streaming down his face, Byakuya managed to look perfect. Even more startling than the normally unruffled noble looking… well, ruffled, was the man standing right beside him.
Arctic blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And why are you in bankai?” Hitsugaya demanded, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at Ichigo.
Instantly, the substitute shinigami reddened as he rubbed the back of his head again. His eyes darted to Byakuya before shifting up to the night sky, seeing ribbons of smoke continue to rise.
With their budding new relationship, neither had been willing to simply jump into it, especially since Ichigo’s sole experience rested with whatever he and Byakuya had done so far. But this was it; this was the night for certain. Sex was about to commence, and judging from the heat in the air and the electricity sparking through their bodies, nothing short of the house burning down or an attack from Aizen was going to stop them.
Both were unbelievably horny, having tried to take their relationship slow so as not to ruin anything. Only recently had they realized the futility of that decision and now sought to remedy their ridiculous choice.
Skin was bared. Hands smoothed over battle-scarred flesh. Many kisses rained down, one upon the other. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, limbs intertwined. Neither claimed dominance, not just yet.
They kissed, tongues mingling as their breath was shared. Gentle fingers probed at an untouched entrance, and their hearts beat erratically in their chests. It was a magic moment, a heated moment, a moment filled with great desire and arousal and…
Ichigo paused, lips drawing into a frown as he pulled back from a kiss. “Did you feel that?” he questioned, eyes flickering to the window where the moon shone down as a brilliant silver disc.
“You mean the world moving when I kissed you?” Byakuya remarked dryly, already preparing to drag his lover back to their previous actions.
The orange-haired shinigami stared at the older man, still unused to his rediscovered sense of humor. “No, it felt like an explosion,” he insisted.
Byakuya shook his head, somewhat amused by Ichigo’s persistence. “You’re mistaken,” he assured him.
And if Ichigo thought to argue, it was lost in the very next moment when hands pulled him down for another earth-shattering kiss. Sheets were rumpled. Hair was tugged. Tongues slid across flesh already streaked with sweat…
“Do you smell that?” It was the Kuchiki heir this time, and his regal features somehow managed to display both desperate need and slight concern.
Ichigo sniffed the air, tilting his head to the side before sudden realization struck him. Chocolate eyes widened.
“Smoke!” he declared, leaping to his feet but not without some difficulty as his limbs were thoroughly enmeshed with Byakuya’s. It was several seconds before they managed to untangle, and when Ichigo tumbled to the floor, tripping on the edge of a sheet, he laid eyes on the flames that were already licking around the doorframe.
“Shit!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet again. “Fire!”
A small noise escaped Byakuya’s mouth as Ichigo frantically darted around the room, rushing to Zangetsu and muttering something along the lines of “clothes, clothes, clothes.” But there were none. In their haste, clothing had been left in another room, so Byakuya snatched up the three most important and closest items he could find.
“No time!” The Kuchiki heir gasped, shoving his soon-to-be, or more accurately his hopefully-soon-to-be, lover towards the window. “Out the window!”
Ichigo thought to protest. He was naked, after all. But then, flames licked at the heels of his feet, and all modesty flew out the window… literally.
It was only sheer luck that he landed feet first.
The ground was chilly, the grass dotted with dew, and Ichigo instantly shivered as Byakuya climbed out of the window behind him, managing to complete the action with a stately bearing that only a man like Byakuya could.
With little other choice and desperate for something to cover himself as he was certain the fire would attract some attention, Ichigo did what any man would do in his situation. Well, if their zanpakutou was anything like his.
Rukia snort-laughed, a rather odd sound. Still, it was truly typical for her as her gaze darted between the two men, her nose wrinkling with a mischievous thought.
“So, Ichigo, just stopping by my house, I see. Even though you knew I wouldn’t be there.”
The substitute shinigami flushed at her insinuation. He blushed further as more captains and vice-captains appeared on the scene, Unohana, Soifon, and Komamura included.
“Well, I… uh…”
“Kurosaki needed somewhere to stay,” Byakuya inserted smoothly, still maintaining his regal demeanor, in spite of the circumstances. Truthfully, however, even he was beginning to fidget a little.
Rukia tossed him a level stare as she crossed her arms over her chest. “In your bedroom?” she pointed out. Her brow arched. “Naked?”
Ichigo choked on something invisible, and a faint blush managed to stain the Kuchiki heir’s cheeks as they both looked away from her, staring at the oh-so-fascinating ground.
In that moment, Unohana bustled forward since anyone pulled from a burning building had to have at least one wound. “Oh my, Kurosaki-san,” she breathed, hand fluttering to her mouth as her eyes raked over him. “That looks like a burn on your chest. I should treat it right away.”
Brown eyes widened as he slapped a hand over the offensive patch of skin, remembering just what kind of mark was there. Damn Kuchiki and his damn lips making damn marks on his damn flesh.
“No, Unohana-taichou, I believe that Kurosaki is fine,” Byakuya murmured, his voice sounding strangely strangled, even as Ichigo shot him a glare.
It simply was not fair that he could remain so unruffled, not while Ichigo blushed over and over again.
Ukitake, taking pity on the two and the interesting spectacle they were making of themselves, finally stepped forward. “With your home in such shape, you cannot stay there, Byakuya. Might I offer my own for the evening?”
But his words fell on deaf ears. At that moment, three pairs of shinigami eyes were locked on three very familiar items that were littering the ground.
Ichigo stared very resolutely at a small, golden bell lying guiltily among the carefully manicured but now ash-choked grass of the Kuchiki front lawn.
A patch of dark hair, obviously from some sort of feline, dotted one of the elegant stone steps of the front entrance. These strands of fur completely captivated Byakuya as his eyes narrowed in anger.
Somewhere between the bell and the hair was yet one more distinguishable item. A pink scarf was curled up neatly on the ground, causing Hitsugaya’s right eyebrow to twitch repeatedly.
And so the perpetrators were known.
Raucous laughter filled the evening air as three very upstanding members of Seireitei stumbled drunkenly down the path, sake jugs clenched tightly in each hand. They weren’t sure where they were going or even why, but none of that mattered since the moon was high in the sky and the night breeze was so cool.
Matsumoto snorted, nearly choking on her sake. “Ya know, Zaraki-taichou,” she began on a giggle. “You should get married or something’.”
“Bwa ha ha!” Kenpachi laughed, tossing his head back as he threw an arm over Matsumoto’s shoulder. “You offerin’ or sumthin’– Ow!”
“‘Ow’ is right!” Yoruichi snapped before throwing an arm around his waist. “Yachiru don’t need a mom! She has Yumichika!” A snorting and very inelegant sort of laughter escaped the former Shihouin heir’s mouth.
His arm retracted from Matsumoto’s shoulder, choosing to instead slip down and grip the ass clad in tight slacks, fondling with little shame. Instead of slapping him as she should have, Yoruichi merely let loose a drunken laugh. She tugged on one of his spikes, rattling the bells.
“Hey!” Yoruichi suggested, a sudden idea dawning on her as she took a great big gulp from her jug. “Here’s a plan. Let’s go visit Byaka-bo!”
Matsumoto’s face crinkled with confusion. “Why?” she asked, planting a hand on her hip.
The former second division captain shrugged, beginning to slur her words a little. “Just a thought or…” She paused, her features suddenly brightening. “Even better… let’s teach Ken kidoh, Rangiku.”
The vice-captain chortled loudly. “Zaraki? Kidoh?”
He snorted loudly, sucking down the very last of his jug and tossing it over his shoulder. It crashed loudly to the ground and shattered.
“I don’t wanna learn that shit,” he grunted. “That stuff’s fer Kuchiki-hime.”
“Ah, come on. It’ll be fun.”
He grunted again.
She took it as consent.
Yoruichi decided that a fire spell, nice and destructive, would be the best place to start, and wasn’t it lucky that they were approaching Byakuya’s house?
And so it was, several minutes later, they were running away from the scene of the crime, their cackling laughter echoing loudly on the wind.