Authors Note: Alright, let's try this again. There was a problem so I am reposting. ANYWAY. This is not only my first Bleach story, but also the first time I am writing in entirely third person. It's a hard task for me as I really really never write in third person so yeah. Plus, I really don't know much about Bleach, so sorry in advance if I get anything wrong.

I'm Not as Think as you Drunk I am.

Renji would sooner admit he preferred the company of men than admit he didn't understand the living world. Ichigo knew this fact; he relished it and used it to feel superior to his once rival. However, he didn't know Renji preferred his company, and the red headed Soul Reaper used this to his own advantage.

He would never admit he liked Ichigo, however, due to a mix of pride and his own personal homophobia. Most of all it was due to his fear of rejection- that was probably the only thing the warrior couldn't handle. So, instead he kept his feelings a secret- sometimes even from himself- and tried to spend as much time hanging around Ichigo; just looking for a glance, a touch, and even the pleasure of hearing the orange haired boy's smooth voice…even if it was laced with malice and hated. It was better than nothing.

Renji understood his feelings, somewhat, and understood that even if the attention from Ichigo was platonic…it was attention none the less and enjoyed it. However, Renji didn't understand was why Ichigo buried himself in reading on a daily basis. This annoyed him most of all because it took the attention away from him. Suddenly the annoying taunts went without a verbal lashing, and the poking didn't prompt Ichigo to tackle Renji to the floor. That's all the red head wanted…the skin to skin contact.

But today, Ichigo more than just engrossed with his books and school work. Since he had gotten home from that "teenage jail," he retreated to his desk, silent, save for the rustling of paper. This wouldn't have been out of the ordinary, save for the fact Ichigo usually made snide comments about Renji always following him home, eating his food, and destroying his juice boxes. None of that today which annoyed Renji even more. The red head laid on Ichigo's comfy bed unnerved by the sad look that plagued the young fighter's eyes. Renji suppressed to urge to wrap his strong arms around Ichigo's trembling shoulders and kiss away the pain the surged within his worn out body. It was horribly sappy, but Renji didn't care…

"Ichigo…" He called out to the boy, concern laced in his voice. He allowed that little emotion to come out…he just couldn't help the worriment that erupted suddenly.

However Ichigo…was snapping. "What!" He shouted, throwing his pen down forcefully, "What do you want now? Huh!? Want to annoy me, poke me, bitch at me until I want to kill you myself! Huh? If that's what you want, then just leave because I'm not in the fucking mood."

And Renji wouldn't have left, in a heartbeat after that tongue lashing, if it wasn't for the fact he caught glistening tears in Ichigo's eyes before he hide his face in his trembling hands. Renji threw caution to the wind and walked towards the angry boy, pulling his chair to face Renji's brown eyes.

"Look at me dumbass," Renji said, trying to pulling Ichigo's hands away from his face.

"God, will you go away you tattooed freak!"

"Calling me names is not going to make me leave you…"

The sweet sound of Renji's voice convinced Ichigo to drop his chapped hands from his face, revealing the contorted look in his eyes to his friend. Renji could tell he wanted to cry like a little girl, but wouldn't because crying was a sign of weakness and not something Ichigo did often. But if he wasn't going to cry, he was going to hold it in until he shattered into a million unfixable pieces and that wasn't going to happen on Renji's watch. So the crimson haired shinigami suggested the only thing he could on such short notice: "Let's go to the bar!"

The look on Ichigo's eyes was a mix of rage and relief. "Bar," he gasped, "You mean like get smashed and shit?"

Renji shrugged, "Why not, maybe it will take your mind off whatever is bothering you…you know?"

The orange haired boy thought about it for a second; contemplating the pros and cons of going bar hopping with someone like Renji…who was never famous for being a perfect drunk. But if Renji was anything at the moment, he was right.

"Fine," Ichigo sighed, "A couple of drinks can't hurt?"


The bar was crowded, much to both Ichigo and Renji's annoyance. They took a seat furthest in the corner, as far away from the other drunken patrons as they could possibly get. The bar was dirty, smelly, with a haze smoke hanging over their heads. The clank from beer glasses and pool balls offered the only music that could be heard over the mixed conversations that swarmed around the pair.

"You want beer," Renji asked to break their strained silence.

"Yeah sure," Ichigo murmured, staring at the cracked wood on the table as if it were interesting. Renji sighed and leaned against his chair; being a psychologist wasn't exactly his forte. Some would even go as far as to say the brash red head was insensitive. Renji admitted that fact to a point.

He cared now; that's all that mattered.

Ichigo, knowing Renji probably didn't have money to spend on drinking, threw Renji his credit card. "Just tell them to keep it coming."

"Whatever you say, babe."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow at the new nickname, "Babe? What the fuck?"

Renji shrugged, not quite fazed by his slip of the tongue. "Dumbass was getting old."

"So you graduate to babe?"

"Yeah, so, got a fucking problem with that, babe?"

Ichigo huffed, growling inwardly at his present company. "No, honey."

Renji would be lying if he said the nickname didn't spark something in his stomach. It was meant as an insult, then again anything Ichigo did in the end was fueled by his short temper, but Renji figured it was better than nothing.

The drinks came…and they came…and they came. And suddenly Ichigo's blank eyes softened, and he relaxed in his chair…a drunken smile plastered on his face. Renji was more than disturbed by the scene, as it normally took more than three glasses of beer to get Ichigo buzzed (try like nine). He was weak, breaking slowly and before Renji's brown eyes.

"Fuck this shit," Ichigo slurred.

"What shit?" Renji downed another beer, feeling the effects of it hit his head like a ton of bricks.

"Everything," his friend whispered.

Renji went to speak but Ichigo roughly placed his finger against the red head's lips. "Shhhhhh," he giggled, "More drinks please."

He wanted to say no, honestly, tell Ichigo that drinking wasn't going to solve his problems, but it was his idea in the first place. Plus, it didn't help he was sporting a nice little buzz that kept him from thinking clearly. So he ordered more drinks, of the exotic kind. Margaritas- which, to Renji, was too girly- rum- which was too bitter- Sex on the beach- he liked that name- and the killer of all killers, jagermeister. After his last shot, the world became nothing more but a blur. The sounds and air of the bar began to swirl, making him dizzy an annoyed. His eyes moved before the image moved forming a headache, there was a sensation in his stomach that was unfamiliar and unwelcomed, and the laughter of overweight bar customers made him want to start a killing spree. He wasn't having fun…

Renji managed to focus on Ichigo, whose eyes seemed to be bugging out of their sockets, and deemed him in worse condition.

"Babe," he attempted to grab Ichigo's shoulder, but instead missed Ichigo completely and landed on the floor with a loud thud!

"Oh no!" Ichigo laughed, "Renji went bye bye!"

"Shut the fuck up you drunk."

"I'm not as think as you drunk I am!" He shrieked!

"You're as think as I drunk you are!"


They erupted in a hideously annoying laughter, grabbing the attention of the other bar patrons. They couldn't help it however; for once in their long painful lives they felt genuinely happy…either that or it was the booze affecting their brain. It could have been, but both would say they weren't drunk enough to not feel the butterflies that erupted in their stomachs when they looked at each other. It was sudden, not expected, but once brown eyes met brown eyes, it felt as if all the problems during that day had lifted and evaporated. Renji suppressed a smile when he saw the stressless look in orange haired boy's eyes.

Ichigo attempted to get up from his seat, but the lights, smoke, and alcohol attacked his senses all at once, causing him to loose his footing. He tumbled to the floor, landing one top of Renji…their lips connecting. Renji's body stiffed at the alien touch. For a brief second he looked at what position he was on; there he was, under the boy he had always wanted to touch, their lips like magnets. He reached his shaky hand to touch Ichigo's soften face, a sickly romantic feeling suddenly taking him over. He could live in this moment despite the hundreds of imperfections laced within that moment.

Ichigo slowly pulled away, gazing lustfully into Renji's confused eyes. "Hey," he murmured. He hadn't meant to say that, but that was the cleanest way to voice his desires.

"Yeah," Renji answered the unasked question, "We should get going…"

They felt it in their groin, their minds, but most of all the felt the desire to be in each other. They couldn't hold it in, and like two insane maniacs running from the cops, they sprinted from the bar. The cold air hit their bodies like bricks, sobering them up as much as it could, but not stopping their dash back to Ichigo's small house. They weren't thinking, not about then consequences or how wrong this could be for their semi-friendly relationship. All they knew was…they needed it…bad.

Ichigo made it in the house first, but that wasn't going to keep Renji from being on top. Before the orange haired boy could reach the door to his room, Renji had him pinned against it; his lips attacking Ichigo's. Through to touching and groping, Ichigo managed to open the door into room. The pair stumbled into the dark room, trying to navigate through the furniture to the bed. Renji stopped his assault on Ichigo's lips pull of the boy's shirt. He examined the well defined muscles and gently ran his fingers over the scars on that plagued Ichigo's body.

"What's wrong," Ichigo said breathlessly, "Why'd you stop?"

Renji lifted his eyes to meet Ichigo's. "Sorry." He took off his shirt and threw it into the unknown abyss of Ichigo's room. "Are you sure you want this?"

Ichigo answered with a rough kiss, dragging Renji to fall onto the bed with him. Amidst the white covers of Ichigo's bed and bathing in the cool night light, Renji and Ichigo committed one of the beautiful and deadly acts known to man. And of course, it would have been easier to wake up and say it was nothing more than a drunken fuck; not every scream and touch and look meant absolutely nothing to them. They could have gone down that easy road; avoiding the coming out party, the harsh opinions, and the contorted glances of people not worth the air they breathe. Oh, they could have: but Renji and Ichigo weren't known for taking the easy road.

The morning sun pierced Renji's eyes, drawing him away from his nightmarish dreams- he would never admit he was plagued with those dreams, of course, it was a weakness. His eyes fluttered open and were met with the brown orbs of Ichigo.

"You fidget in your sleep," Ichigo whispered, "what's up with that?"

At this point, Renji noticed his arm was draped over Ichigo's chest; the events of the night before slowly returning to his memory. "Oh," he sighed, "You…remember what we did last night?"

"Yeah, how could I forget? First time I ever had sex with a guy," he shifted uncomfortably, "my ass is like killing me, honestly, dude…next time don't be so rough."

"Next time?" Renji couldn't fight back the sneaky smile that forced its way onto his face.

Ichigo rolled to rest on his side, examining Renji with a small smile, "Yeah. If you want. Or something. I'm not into the whole one night stand thing. I mean I know we were kind of drunk but-"

"You weren't drunk enough to loose your sense like that-"

"Unless I wanted it," then Ichigo's smile grew, "and don't fucking say you didn't want it either."

The red head sighed; he was caught. "Well then I guess this is the part where I act like such the romantic I am, and ask you out…officially."

"And I guess this is the part where I say yes." He ran his calloused fingers down Renji's back, smirking at the shivers coming from his lover, "And then, I guess this is the part where I tell you what was bothering me…"

"That maybe a good idea," Renji propped himself on, "What was on your mind."

"Well, you may not like me afterwards," he sighed, "It's pretty damn serious."

Renji knitted his eyebrows together, "Come on tell me…."

"….I had a really…really…bad headache."

"Wait woah," he sat up staring dumbfounded at Ichigo's confession, "So…you fight hollows, you've fought Soul Reapers, you've almost died I don't know how many times. You've had your head cracked open, your arms ripped apart, and you have serious emotional issues…and you are fucking telling me that all those tears and whining was from a god damn headache?"

"Yeah so! You cry when you get a splinter!"

"Oh my god, one time and I am branded for life!"

"Oh come on Renji, that was a pretty small splinter," Ichigo laughed.

"Oh yeah," he huffed, "nice fucking hair, babe."

"Right back at you, honey."