A/N: Thank you for stopping by! I'm known around here as Princess Kitty1, and this is my third GinRan fic. I love this pairing with a burning passion, to the point where I can't look at them without tearing up anymore. So I decided to give them some Valentine's Day attention. I hope you all enjoy it. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material.

Beautiful Stranger

By: Princess Kitty1

The First Date

Although the process of falling in and out of love was a year-round occurrence, like rain storms and department store sales, an early Pope decided to christen one particular day for its celebration, and somewhere along the timeline a bored jackass of an entrepreneur suggested commercializing it, thus making his big fat fortune. Meanwhile, his customers would run about for the rest of eternity, frantically picking up cheap cardboard cards decorated with cartoon characters for their schoolchildren, or purchasing oversized plush dolls for boyfriends and girlfriends, or grabbing a bottle of wine and some rose petals for a romantic evening in. And while it didn't seem like a bad idea to most – what in the world could possibly be worth celebrating more than love in all its tragedy and splendor? – some vehemently hated the holiday, as if it had personally taken a baseball bat to their cars or pets.

Rangiku Matsumoto, twenty-two years old, was one of them; at least, partially. She would have had nothing against the innocent holiday of purples, reds, and pinks if she hadn't spent all twenty-two of hers the exact same way: alone.

When she was a child, it hadn't bothered her; she would go to school, collect her mandatorily shared valentines, then go home and stuff herself with chocolate. There wasn't much to think about. In middle school, when her strawberry blond hair had been cropped short and puberty had struck like a burglar in the night, she'd started to notice the elementary trend evolve into a more meaningful display. All around her, the more popular girls would receive flowers and candygrams from their boyfriends or admirers; people would hook up and squeal to their friends about their new "romances." And Rangiku… well, she would smile and be happy for them.

Then came high school, where Rangiku threw herself headlong into all the activities she could fit onto her schedule: the international baccalaureate program, yearbook club, community service, student council, cheerleading. Her hair had grown out, her chest had filled to porn star proportions, and she'd lost count of all the wagging tongues that followed her down the halls. But even with the admirers, her determination to study and succeed had been off-putting to most; no guy had ever gathered up the courage to actually ask her out. And so she spent her four high school Valentine's Days without a valentine. A desk full of roses and candies, sure, but no strong arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Rangiku had gone to college, pre-law, then she'd realized that she hated the whole mess and changed majors a good three times before dropping out and enrolling in beauty school, much to the horror of her parents. She didn't care. They saw it as downsizing, wasting her potential, but so far she hadn't had an inkling of regret. She was doing what she loved, no matter how much closer it brought her to Valentine's Day and its empty promises.

"And then we're going to have a romantic lunch down at the café on Carson Avenue – you know, the one with its own private rooftop garden? – and after that we're going to the movies to watch that new Jennifer Aniston flick."

"Uh-huh," Rangiku said to the middle-aged woman on her chair, trying to look interested though her thick Boston accent was a bit hard to follow and either way, Rangiku couldn't care less. She lifted a section of hair and snipped in a nice straight line, letting split ends fall like snow around her feet.

"After that, he and I are going to go ice skating at the big outdoor rink downtown where they light the huge Christmas tree every winter, then he's treating me to a home-cooked dinner and some champagne, and after that," the woman sighed dreamily, "I'm guessing a line of rose petals leading into the candlelit bedroom."

"Sounds like fun," Rangiku pulled down the wet strands to make sure the ends were even, then turned the chair around to trim the woman's bangs. "Lift your head, darling."

She obeyed, a wistful smile on her face as she gazed up at Rangiku. "What will you be doing when you get off of work this evening? A beautiful girl like you must have a handsome stud waiting at home." Her eyebrows waggled suggestively. "What's he look like?"

Rangiku thought for a moment. The only handsome stud waiting for her at home was her dog Louie, a little terrier with a stub of a tail and killer morning breath. "To be honest, he's a bit on the short side. Brown hair with some gray patches – "

"An older man!" the woman gasped.

" – and these chocolate brown eyes that I can't help but get lost in. Loyal to boot," Rangiku went on, letting her client believe whatever she wanted to. It wasn't like she was ever going to see her again; the city was huge, the salon she worked at pricier than others. Besides, it was better than telling her the truth: that Rangiku Matsumoto was likely going to spend Valentine's evening crying into a beer bottle after a long day of preparing other women for romantic dates with their lovers. She would then stumble home and pass out on her couch, where Louie would jump up to lick away her tears and makeup, which would result in him being just as sick as her in the morning.

It never failed. She had long since established it as tradition.

Later, when she had fluffed and curled her client straight to heaven, she found herself sitting in the chair of her friend and coworker Shinji Hirako, who also had a habit of letting his customers believe what they wanted about his love life. Being a male hair stylist, well, he just had to be gay, and often spun wild tales about a Fabio-esque stallion of a teacher that he'd had a fling with in high school – all lies, of course. He was spending Valentine's Day with his college sweetheart, a woman named Hiyori who refused to let him do her hair; unlike Rangiku, who pulled faces in the mirror as he ran his hands through her wavy locks.

"Another Valentine's alone. Now that's just sad." Shinji frowned at her as he experimentally clipped one section of hair, then got to work on braiding another. "Rangiku, if I weren't spoken for, I would be more than happy to take you to bed tonight. Please, do yourself a favor and at least get laid."

Rangiku shook her head. "If I just pick up some random guy at the bar to take home, I'll feel even worse in the morning when I wake up and he's gone, probably back to his wife and kids." She sighed. "Why do people have to make such a big deal about Valentine's, anyway? It's just another day." Her reflection glared back at her. Damn it all, it just wasn't fair. She looked like a fucking prom queen and still couldn't get a boyfriend, though it wasn't like she had the time to go looking. Her days consisted of work, two meals, and sleep. Very rarely was she even able to go out with her friends.

"I agree with you. However, because it is an established holiday, we can't go about ignoring it. That would be like attending the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and trying to will the Shrek float out of existence because you just happen to hate Shrek." Shinji decided against the braid and undid it, but left the section of hair clipped up. "Doll yourself up, get out of the house, and find someone to celebrate with. I don't care who, so long as you wake up thinking, Wow, what a fantastic night I had! You deserve that much at least."

Rangiku smiled wryly. "Thanks Shinji," she stood up from the chair and admired her reflection. "I think I'll keep it like this. Shows off my ears."

"You do have pretty ears." Shinji waved her off as she went back to her chair to set up for her next appointment. Another hair coloring. Sigh. As if the surrounding smells of hair spray, shampoo, and conditioner weren't enough. Chemicals gave her migraines, but oh well. It had to be done.

Maybe Shinji was right, she thought as she glanced at the clock. She'd be off of work in a few more hours. There was no use in sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself; not when she was young and gorgeous and single. She needed to go out on the town, see what was happening. Hell, she could even take herself out on a date! Movies with popcorn that she didn't have to share, ice skating with no one holding her back, and chocolates that she could eat endlessly without worrying about looking fat.

She'd be her own boyfriend and make all the guys jealous by being happy without them!

…

Unfortunately, Rangiku was a bad boyfriend, the kind who got herself drunk so that she'd be easier to take advantage of. And so, Valentine's evening found her on the balcony of her high-rise apartment, leaning over the railing with a bottle in one hand and her foot swinging out into the open air. The night sky was thick with clouds, threatening snow; it was certainly cold enough.

She looked upon the city below, at the slow-moving traffic and the people walking up and down the streets. Her apartment building was located in the heart of downtown, where it was noisy, exciting, and glamorous. Rangiku had always loved such places. Really, she ought to have felt lucky to be living where she did, working where she did.

But as much as she swore that she wouldn't think about it – not today, of all days – she ended up wondering how much nicer it would be if she had someone to share it with. She lifted the bottle of alcohol to her lips and took a sip, hardly buzzed. It would take more than one or two more to get her the right amount of drunk to stop caring, but she didn't even have the heart to do that. She'd just be glad when the day was over, when spring arrived. She always felt happier in the spring.

"Excuse me!"

Rangiku frowned and glanced down at the bottle in her hand. What the hell, had she stumbled upon some alcohol genie? Where in the world had that voice come from? She squinted into its opening and heard a laugh that almost made her drop the bottle in surprise. Maybe she was drunker than she thought. For all she knew, she'd already passed out and was dreaming that she'd only had one beer.

"Yoo-hoo, over here!"

Oh. Rangiku had forgotten that her apartment building was situated next to one of the city's nicer hotels. She lifted her head, spotting a silver-haired man standing on the balcony of his suite directly across her own, his elbows on the rail and one ankle crossed over the other behind him. Dressed in a plain white button-up, a striped tie that flapped in the wind, black slacks and black shoes shiny enough to reflect the light from her apartment, she couldn't help but wonder if he was cold. "Beg your pardon, but you're not thinkin' of jumpin', are ya?"

"Jumping?" Rangiku took a step back from the rail. God, did she really look so pathetic that some random stranger would think her ready to end it all? "No! No, I'm sorry. I didn't scare you, did I?"

"Little bit," the man replied with a wide grin that reminded her of Shinji's. "I've heard a lot about Valentine's Day suicides. Don't blame 'em; it's a wretched holiday. Shouldn't kill themselves, though."

Rangiku smiled and nodded, then realized that he probably wouldn't be able to see the gesture very well. The buildings were in close proximity, but there was still quite a chasm between them. Funny how she'd never considered the possibility of talking to any of the hotel's occupants, though they were technically her ever-changing neighbors. "You don't like Valentine's Day?"

The man unfolded his arms, holding up his hands in a shrug. "It ain't my cup of tea." His arms lowered onto the railing again. "You, on the other hand, look like you should be out on the town, enjoying the night. Where's your boyfriend? He won't come over here to kick my ass for talkin' to ya, will he?"

Rangiku mimicked his shrug. "What boyfriend?"

"Ah, I see. That's how it is." The man turned his attention towards the street, as if he were thinking something over, then shifted it back to Rangiku. "Say, here's a thought. How about I take you out on a date?" Before she could object, he held up a hand. "I know, I'm a complete stranger, but I promise you won't even have to leave the balcony, nor will I have to leave mine."

Rangiku stared at him skeptically. What was this guy thinking? Did he have a few screws loose or something? "You and I are going to have a date… from right here?"

"Sure," the man pulled back from the rail. "Here's how it works. We'll both order takeout from the same place, hopin' it arrives at the same time, then we'll sit out here and enjoy the night. What do you say? I totally understand if you don't want to. I've got an awful case of jetlag so for all I know, I'm speakin' French and you're about to call the cops on me."

The comment had Rangiku giggling, which she very rarely did on Valentine's Day. Ah, what the hell. It's not like it would hurt. And besides, she felt like she could use an adventure. "Alright Stranger," she agreed, leaning down to put her beer bottle on the balcony floor. "Where do we order from?"

"Chinese sound good?"

"Chinese sounds perfect."

She gave him the number to a local delivery place, then waited as he placed his order. Once he was done, he flagged her down and she called the restaurant, settling for some lo mein and egg rolls. It was fairly late, after all. If she didn't finish it all, she supposed she could save it for the next day. She hung up the phone and took a seat on the chair that she kept out on her balcony. "So, does my Valentine's date have a name?" she asked him.

"Does mine?" he countered.

Rangiku thought for a moment. "I don't know," she smiled playfully. "What do you think my name is?"

The man laughed. "Now that ain't fair. You know how many names there are out there in the world?" He slipped his phone into his pocket. "But for the sake of this night, I think I'll call you Princess Fiona. Locked up in a tower, seemingly waitin' for your prince to come, and you certainly look like the type who enjoys piña coladas and gettin' caught in the rain."

Rangiku felt her cheeks heat up. God, she really was transparent, wasn't she? "Okay. What do I call you, then?" From the distance, she could see him tapping his chin.

"I'll be the Cheshire Cat, since my ex-girlfriend always complained about my disappearances. Here today, gone tomorrow, always grinnin'."

Rangiku's curiosity was piqued, but she kept the more personal questions to herself. They had just met – though if what he said was true, then this would be the only chance she had to ask. Oh well. It was one 'date;' she didn't need to know the guy's life story. So she settled for something safer. "Alright then, Mr. Cat. What brings you into the city?" she called out to him.

The silver-haired man leaned forward on the rail of his balcony. "I'm a traveling businessman," he answered. "Spend most, if not all of my time going from place to place. See, my father was in the military so for the better part of my childhood, I was moving around. Once we'd finally settled I was stricken with a rabid case of wanderlust and found that I couldn't stop moving."

Rangiku's eyebrows shot up. "That's interesting. Do you come to the city often?"

He nodded. "Guaranteed to be here on Valentine's Day every year. It gets a little repetitive." Pulling away from the rail, he dragged the balcony chair closer and sat down as well. "And what do you do for a living, Princess?"

Given his rather exciting lifestyle, she felt a bit embarrassed as she responded. "I'm a beautician."

"Hair, nails, eyebrows and all that jazz?"

"That's the gist of it."

"Well that's good! At least you get tips and stuff, right?" He smiled at her. "You're braver than I am. I couldn't stand there and rip the hair off of a person's face. It seems rather sadistic."

Rangiku tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You get used to it." Honestly, she felt more squeamish with manicures and pedicures, especially considering the fact that anyone could have unknowingly walked into the salon with a foot fungus that would get into her skin. She shivered.

The food arrived within half an hour. Rangiku and her date excused themselves to go downstairs and retrieve their orders, and she couldn't help but feel a little mystified. Was she dreaming? There was no way that she could be enjoying a semi-long distance date with a complete stranger. She must have pinched herself twice on her way to the lobby, just to be sure. When she hadn't woken up on the couch a hung-over mess, she allowed herself a feeling of giddiness, all but running back upstairs.

Oh, nobody at the salon would believe her if she told them about this. She was having a hard time believing it herself. This was just what she had needed: a no-strings-attached date that didn't end in unwanted sexual advances. He probably couldn't even tell how big her boobs were.

And so she spent the next two hours conversing with the silver-haired man about any safe topic they could think of: the recently passed Super Bowl, weather – a light snow shower had started after they'd finished eating – and where he was headed to next. He said he was due in Atlanta by the next evening, where he'd stay for about a week to attend a work conference, and from there it was up to Ohio. They complained about how the next day the supermarkets would already be filled with St. Patrick's Day decorations, not even giving people time to recover from their Valentine's escapades… or sexcapades.

Finally, Rangiku reluctantly excused herself at one in the morning; she was still expected at work, and he had an early flight to catch. As they stood from their respective chairs and stretched out their limbs, she turned to him once more. "Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It's been fun."

The man shoved his hands into his pockets. "No problem! I should be thanking you, actually. This is definitely the most interesting Valentine's Day I've ever had." They both shared a smile. "Say, how about we do this again sometime?" he asked innocently. "I'll be in town next year. If you don't have a valentine by then, that is."

Rangiku considered it. Well, he was certainly charming enough. What was a harmless date between new friends? "Sure," she answered, then added, "though my voice is a little hoarse, so perhaps we should actually go somewhere next time?"

"Fair enough. We could meet at that Mexican restaurant down the street, around seven o'clock?"

"Seven it is." Rangiku took a step back towards her balcony door and waved. "Have a nice flight tomorrow!"

"I won't. I hate flying!"

She laughed as she slipped into the warm apartment and slid the glass door shut. Louie scampered to her feet, whining and wagging his tail. Rangiku picked him up and walked to the living room, where she proceeded to throw herself down onto the sofa and turn on the TV. "You hear that, baby?" she asked the dog, who licked her nose affectionately. "I've got a date next year." The terrier snuffed. "Don't get jealous or anything."

Rangiku spent the better part of her night wondering what she would say to Shinji tomorrow, if anything at all. He would probably yell at her for getting mixed up with an older guy… then again, he'd said that he didn't care who she went out with, so long as she had fun.

And it had been fun. In fact, when she woke up the next morning and realized that she had dozed off in her clothes, she couldn't help but smile at the ceiling. "Wow," she muttered to herself, "what a fantastic night I had."

To Be Continued

A/N: I was going to make this a one-shot… then I realized that it would be too long again. XD Short story though. Five chapters, maybe, and it probably won't be finished by Valentine's Day, but hey, February still counts!

Now then, will Rangiku's mystery date show up next year, or was he taking her for a ride? I'm currently dying of the flu, so do bring a smile to my sick-addled body by letting me know what you thought!