Title: Bamboo Dragon
Genre: Romance / Humor
Pairing: Ichigo x Ikkaku
Spoilers: None, at the moment
Summary: After a night they can't remember, comes a day they'll never forget.
Word Count: 1,094
Warnings: Yaoi. That's right. Two hot guys getting it on. And language.
Disclaimer: The summary is from Dude, Where's My Car? Which, clearly, is not mine. Bleach is also… not mine.
A/N: Am I really the first person to write this pairing?! But… it's so hot! How can there not be more?! :cries:
It is too fucking bright.
The first coherent thought skirting across Ikkaku's consciousness was accompanied by the dull throbbing behind his eyes that meant he'd be nursing a hell of a hangover in not too long.
But underneath the feeling of the samba drums beating between his eyes and the angry wish that the sun would just fucking die already, he seemed oddly… relaxed, satiated.
Groaning at the fact that he was awake and apparently there wasn't anything he could do about it, he stretched so hard his toes curled. Forcing himself into a sitting position as he ran a hand over his face, his sheet pooled in his lap…
… and realized that he was naked.
When his eyes shot open in shot he realized, technically, that he wasn't completely naked. He was still wearing his white undershirt. But it was ripped right down his chest. And he did have a wristband on his left wrist, a white paper bracelet depicting a sinuous dragon behind shafts of bamboo.
What. The. Fuck did he do last night?!
A quick glance around the room proved that he was, thankfully, in his own room. But a more prolonged glance around and he noticed some things that were not quite so comforting.
The haphazard trail of clothing and shoes leading from his bed, out his door, and down the part of the hallway he could see was one of those less-then-comforting things. Because Ikkaku had been drunk enough times to know that was he passed out, it was fully clothed and on the couch.
The second not-really-reassuring thing he noticed, was the pair of legs (that were not his own) hanging across his bed, presumably attached to a body that was sprawled mostly on the floor.
He allowed himself one brief, youthful thought that maybe it was a woman. This hope was dashed when he realized the pair of feet pointing towards his thigh did not belong to any female. The person was barefoot. But at least they still had their hakama on.
Which begged the question: why the hell was he naked?!
Frowning fiercely at the situation in general, he poked the bottom of one of the feet harshly. Nothing. He jabbed at the appendage harder. One of the toes twitched. Scowl deepening, he grabbed the person's ankle and gave it a hard shake.
Whoever-it-was groaned at the treatment and yes, the deep voice, roughed with sleep, definitely belonged to a man. Fan. Tastic.
The legs slithered off the side of his bed and he heard a thunk as they hit the floor. Almost immediately someone staggered to their knees, one arm braced on the mattress, the other pressed to a tuft of violently colored hair.
"Frick me head," he mumbled lowly. "And why the hell am I on the floor?"
Ikkaku meanwhile who had used the time it took the boy to stagger almost upright to have a personal mental breakdown, and snapped back to reality at his low voice.
Ichigo's head snapped up at the sudden shout, head throbbing from both the loud noise and the sudden movement. It only took a moment for him to orient his vision, but when he did… he wished he hadn't.
The sheet pooled in his lap did little to hide the fact that Ikkaku was naked under it.
"Oh. My, God," Ichigo yelled. "What the fuck is going on?!"
"I don't fucking know!" Ikkaku yelled right back. Where the hell was Kurosaki's shirt?!
"Why am I in your room?!
"Why are you in my bed?!"
The two stopped momentarily to catch the breath. Ikkaku still sitting in his bed, bare-ass except for his ripped shirt and his wristband and clutching his sheet to his lap. And Ichigo crouched next to his bed, nude from the waist up.
"You have paint on your face."
Ikkaku blinked, one hand rising to his face. Did he really…?
He snorted. "Add it to the list, Kurosaki, 'cuz I go no clue what the fuck I did last night.
It was Ichigo's turn to stare blankly at the eleventh-division man. "Me neither." Another pause. "Fuck." Yeah, that about summed it up. His eyes glazed over as he tried to force himself to remember something (anything) from the previous night. So he wasn't really paying attention to his friend as Ikkaku wrapped the sheet around his waist and stood, until the man let out a violent hiss and sat back down. Only to groan in obvious discomfort and fall backwards, arms spread-eagles, eyes clenched closed.
Ichigo, having shot to his feet at the first noise, was glancing around the room, instincts from too many battles springing his muscles into action before he knew what he was doing. "What?! What's the problem?!"
When he finally spoke, Ikkaku's voice was dreamy, disaffected, like his mind was somewhere else. "… my ass hurts."
Ichigo paused. "What do you mean you-"
And that was the point when Ichigo looked down and Ikkaku simultaneously opened his eyes to look up. And they both realized something very important.
Ichigo's hakama was on… mostly. But they were loose. And they, along with his underwear, were hanging off his ass in the back, so they could hang halfway down his thighs in the front. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and let all the dots connect.
A/N: Short, yes, but 'tis a prologue. Bamboo Dragon thing will be explained, though you should probably be able to figure it out.
What did our boys do last night?! (Besides the obvious of course.) ;) Some more surprises will come out in the next chapter. And… pretty much all of them, as they find out what they hell they were up to during their drunken escapades.
Also, am I the only Ichigo x Ikkaku fangirl out there? Can I get a "Woot!" from anyone else? Jebus, pair Ichigo with everyone from the series, except the first shinigami he actually fights in Soul Society. And it's hot!
Reviews are love!