Disclaimer: Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday. Yeah, yeah, that's my excuse. ;D
"The reason the Gotei 13 have been called forth to this meeting," bellowed old Yamamoto from his high throne. "Is because of the sudden increase of Arrancar visiting and leaving Karakura Town, as you all may already know. So far, they have not caused any real disturbances, but for the moment, I will assume that their sneakiness is not without negative intentions. As Shinigami, our main duty is to protect Seireitei, but with the suspicious movements these Arrancar have been proceeding on Earth, I hereby give you orders to investigate these mysterious visits by Sousuke Aizen's army."
Yamamoto paused to cough and clear his throat, watching the captains' expressions intently. "Kuchiki-taichou of the 6th division, and Hitsugaya-taichou of the 10th division, I choose you and your lieutenants to ensue this investigation. I expect a full report on their missions. Kurotsuchi-taichou of the 12th division, you are to monitor these Arrancar and find out what sort of missions they are carrying out upon Aizen's instructions."
Leaning back on his high seat, Yamamoto waited for any questions/objections. There were none. "Very well. You are now dismissed; go forth and carry out my orders."
The ten remaining captains bowed low and shuffled out of the meeting room in silence, heading for their own divisions, all focused on the matters at hand. Byakuya stalked over to his lieutenant's office and prodded Renji in the shoulder. The red haired tattooed man was in a deep sleep on his table, apparently, when he was supposed to be completing several piles of paperwork next to him. The nerve of Abarai, Byakuya mused as a nerve twitched on his forehead. Realizing that mere shoulder poking wouldn't work, Byakuya resorted to the cold cup of green tea seated innocently on a thick book.
When the contents of his cup splashed on his face, Renji jerked back in his seat like a jack-in-the-box.
"AH! No, take him instead—oh. How may I be of assistance, Kuchiki-taichou?" Renji tried to hide the furious blush that crept up slowly from his neck to his hairline with a paper fan.
Byakuya noted that the fan had a little stamp on it that clearly said 'Handmade in Karakura', then noticed how slender and tapered his lieutenant's fingers were. His gaze traveled from Renji's hand to his neck, collarbone, and finely toned chest. Ah, if only that sleeve didn't cover Renji's tattooed front. Actually, Byakuya figured, if only Renji wasn't wearing anything—stop this nonsense. This is no time for mind games, Kuchiki Byakuya. Back to business.
"Sleeping on the job, Abarai, is something I do not encourage." Byakuya gave Renji a stern glare before continuing, noting with strange satisfaction that Renji's blush turned a deep shade of crimson. "Now, Yamamoto-taichou has issued orders for us to investigate Arrancar missions in Karakura town along with Hitsugaya-taichou and his lieutenant. Apparently these hollows are acting suspiciously upon Aizen's commands and are visiting Karakura like dogs on a trail. My guess is that they seem to be searching for something, or someone. Get ready, Abarai, we leave tonight."
With a last keen stare at Renji's upper body, Byakuya turned on his heel and walked out the door, leaving Renji blushing and blinking in sheer confusion.
"What're you doing?" Isshin sauntered into the kitchen, staring at his son attempting to empty half a carton of flour into a bowl. "Don't tell me you're trying to cook. Is this for a show-and-tell science project for school?"
"Can it, Dad; who has show-and-tell science projects when they're sixteen?" Ichigo cracked some eggs into a bowl. "I'm obviously cooking, anyone could tell."
"Mmm, no wonder you're wearing my apron," Isshin nodded approvingly. "Mommy would be so pleased! In fact, she'd be really happy--!"
Ichigo flicked an empty pancake mix box at his father with a disgruntled sigh. "Don't start on Mom. I don't think I could take anymore. I've had it up to here," he gestured at his neck impatiently. "With that little brat upstairs and I really want some peace and quiet."
Isshin surveyed his son quietly, a musing frown marring his otherwise smooth features. "Don't you mean brats, Ichigo? Though I've never heard you call your sisters that, I guess there's always a first time."
Absently, Ichigo waved Isshin's question aside and grabbed a saucepan from the rack. "Nah, I was talking about Grimmjaw. I took him out yesterday and he had his first taste of ice cream. I got stopped so many times by girls who wanted to kiss his cheek and stroke his hair; I guess his hair color's pretty rare, huh. Maybe he got it from his mom. Wait, I don't even know if he has a mom or—WHOA!"
His hand still gripping the saucepan, Ichigo managed to avoid his father's widespread arms as Isshin dived at him, attempting a bear hug.
"You damn idiot, watch what you're doing! The hot oil could've burned me!" Ichigo yelled, aiming a kick at his father.
Isshin settled for a clingy hold on his only son's leg. "Ooh, you didn't tell Daddy you made a little boy with someone! And you don't even know his mother? You're such a player; you take right after me! Maybe I've given you too much freedom, my boy. But that's alright, since you have a boy of your own. This is wonderful; Mommy would be so proud!"
"WHAT?! NO, THAT'S NOT IT, I CAN ASSURE YOU--Ah, just shut it, Dad!" Ichigo flailed his free arm in distress. "Let go of my leg, goddammit! You're a disgrace to fathers, did you know that?!"
"S'that wall supposed ta be on fire?" a soft voice asked from beside the refrigerator.
"AH!" Ichigo emptied the contents of the saucepan into the sink hurriedly and filled it with water to douse the fire. "Look what you made me do, Dad, you sick fuck! Thank bloody hell Grimmjaw told me in time—mmph!"
Ichigo's mouth was smothered by Isshin's hand as his father dragged him closer in Grimmjaw's direction, a wild, almost demented look on his face.
"Is this your little boy?" he asked, shaking Ichigo with a gleeful smile. "Your little son, yes? Yes? YES?"
Releasing a series of garbled replies, Ichigo nodded furiously as he struggled under his father's death grip. Isshin continued to stare wide-eyed at Grimmjaw, who glared back and scoffed at him in abhorrence and distaste. The diminutive Espada turned his glare onto the Shinigami substitute and made a disgruntled face at him as he spread out his arms, which were covered with one of Ichigo's button down shirts. Apparently he had no pants on, but the shirt was long enough to cover everything up to his ankles. Thank mother of the grapevine the shirt was a dark green, though it clashed horribly with his bright teal hued hair.
"What's this, Ichigo? I smell funny!" Grimmjaw sniffed at his temporary guardian's shirt. "Where's my robes?"
"Asdfghjkl!" Ichigo sputtered as he wrenched free of his father's grasp. "Gah! Sorry, Grimmjaw. I had to hand them over to Ishida; your jacket had a hole in it. I'm pretty sure he'll wash them for you too, so don't worry. Um, do you like pancakes?"
Grimmjaw offered Ichigo a quizzical look. "Whassat?"
Isshin waved the empty box of pancake mix at the Espada. "Pancake. You spell it this way, p-a-n-c-a-k-e. In America, they call it flapjacks. It's basically a flat piece of cake fried on a pan. You can eat it with meat, or fruits and ice cream, jam, or with syrup. Our family style is dribbling maple syrup all over it and adding some banana slices coupled with strawberries at the side, and voila! Breakfast fit for a king."
"What do you think you're doing, advertising for a diner?" Ichigo poured some milk and the bowl of eggs into the batter as the saucepan reheated on the stove. "Give the kid some space, Dad. You're kinda cornering him into the fridge."
"Cake." Grimmjaw tugged at his loose shirt with a small pout. "It's like ice cream?"
"No, it's a pancake." Isshin ruffled Grimmjaw's soft blue hair with a smile. "But we do have ice cream to go with it if you'd like."
"Yesterday," Grimmjaw announced importantly, clutching at his shirt. "I was attacked by a human child who wanted to make me take an ice cream. An' he called me weird."
"He just wanted to share some with you. And it's not 'take', it's 'eat'. Didn't I tell you to be polite and say thank you?" Ichigo flipped the pancake in the pan expertly onto a plate.
"Why should I thank him fer somethin' I don't want?" Grimmjaw frowned as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're weird too."
Ichigo sighed, pouring some syrup on the pancake. "It's 'didn't 'want, Grimmjaw. C'mere and I'll let you try this pancake."
"No!" Grimmjaw snarled as he scooted into the nook between the fridge and cabinet. "Yer gonna poison me or somethin' like that. Exactly like Szayel."
Isshin began one of his notorious fatherly rants around the kitchen space about how cruel the world was becoming, and Masaki, would you believe our son has a son? As his father waltzed out of the kitchen to hug the wall in the living room where his late wife's poster hung, Ichigo made his way to Grimmjaw, who was scowling at him from the corner he was wedged in.
"Szayel poisoned you, Ulquiorra said. Can you remember what he poisoned you with?"
"Somethin' green and icky from a bottle. Said it was rum Ulquiorra bought in a drugstore here." Grimmjaw crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "I ain't stupid enough to fall fer that trick again."
"Rum?" Ichigo bit back a laugh, but couldn't resist a chuckle. "I'm afraid you've been lied to, sweetheart. As far as I know, rum's not green."
"I KNEW IT!" Grimmjaw hissed, pouting at Ichigo. "That fuckin', lyin' bastard."
"Calm down, baby. Those words aren't something you should be using around here. Dad will kill me if he found out Yuzu or Karin picked them up from you." Ichigo reached out and tousled Grimmjaw's wavy locks affectionately. "C'mon, let's get you filled up. I promise this won't turn you into a frog."
"What's a frog?" Grimmjaw asked, stepping forward into Ichigo's arms for a well deserved cuddle. "Is it food?"
Chuckling, Ichigo lifted him up and placed him on the kitchen counter. "It's an animal, an amphibian to be exact. Y'know, the kind that's wet and hops and eats insects?"
"Sounds a lot like Szayel." Grimmjaw grinned and accepted the forkful of warm, moist pancake.
Ichigo watched him chew expectantly, a small smile sculpting his lips. For once, the teenager lost the habitual frown he had when he was mulling over something.
"S'good," Grimmjaw proclaimed as he savored the mouthful of pancake.
Ichigo beamed. "That's my little sweetheart. Some more?"
"I can ride my bike with no handlebars!" screamed a boy as he whizzed along the downhill lane on his red and blue striped ride. "WAHOO!"
Ulquiorra stepped aside to avoid the hysterical kid and his group of friends on equally loud bikes, screaming and hollering their way downhill. Fucking immature children. A lone straggler struggled to pedal faster with his short legs so he could join his buddies. He was adorable, with soft black bangs that covered half his eyes, and rosebud lips. Ulquiorra studied the tired child interestedly, though his face showed no expression.
"Do you require assistance, child?" What the fuck just came out of his mouth? Since when did he offer help to repulsive humans, much less their offspring?
The little boy looked up at him with a tired but happy smile. "Could you push me down so I can go faster?"
"Yes." Gladly, Ulquiorra thought, and gave the kid a firm shove, watching him roll away down the street with a happy whoop.
"…You're welcome." I suppose.
Ulquiorra continued his search, and only stopped to wonder how the hell that kid could see him. Shrugging it off, he started to contemplate why he had decided to aid a silly human in the first place. Was he turning soft or something?
Stark leaned against the doorway of Szayel's laboratory, trying to muffle a loud yawn under a gloved hand. He failed. The Octava Espada shot him a vicious glare.
"Oh, go away, Stark. You're distracting me from my work."
"I won't, not until you finish that chemical for Grimmjaw." Stark replied, stifling yet another yawn. "Where's your bed?"
"Eager, aren't you?" Szayel licked his upper lip with a languorous pink tongue. "Wait a little more, and I'll join you."
Rolling his eyes, Stark entered the laboratory and tilted Szayel's chin with an expressionless stare. "Stop twisting my words. I just want to sleep."
"With me?" Szayel grinned maliciously, fingers running over Stark's well toned torso. "Oh, gladly, but Grimmjaw's potion just might not work anymore if we proceed."
Releasing a controlled sigh, Stark trailed his finger down Szayel's neck. "If you really must be like this, then so be it."
Szayel responded with a look of pure confusion. Before he could say more, he felt a hand grasp the back of his neck and pulled him forward to meet Stark's tempting lips. As their tongues fought for dominance, Szayel felt himself melting into Stark's arms, practically waving a white flag. He hadn't expected Stark to be such a great kisser. With a soft moan, Szayel allowed Stark's nimble fingers to deftly remove his Espada uniform.
"Ah!" Stark earned a loud gasp as he nipped at Szayel's bare lower neck, sliding his tongue languidly downward, while his fingers pinched and fondled at a nipple until it was pert. "Mmm, Stark! I didn't know you were so…ah, nngh, there…so good!"
Smirking, Stark lowered his free hand to massage Szayel's bulge in his Espada pants, eliciting a rasping moan from the Octava Espada. The pink haired Espada was so incredibly easy to manipulate, Stark mused as he pushed Szayel against the wall into a lip bruising kiss.
Electric Romeo ftw.