First Chapter of Monday Lesson, and first yaoi story I've ever published... No smut in this one (be patient! ;-P). English is not my first language and I don't have a beta, But I hope there aren't any mistakes...

NB. In direct speeches, the words written in Italic are meant to be in English language, otherwise they're supposed to be in Japanese! :-)

This said, Good Reading!

XXX

Chapter 1: At First

Ichigo's POV.

Unlucky, unlucky day.

Ichigo glared at the clock on the wall in front of him for what he hoped was the last time that day, only to find out he wasn't that lucky. Still forty minutes at least.

Once again, he found himself pondering on the reason why he was there. And, once again, he found its center in Urahara. Of course. It was always Urahara after all.

The boy had known the insane man since he was child, being him a close friend of his father. Even back then, he thought it was incredible how too crazy men like them could form such a ridiculously retarded duo. Ichigo would find an excuse in order to escape the crazy adults, and he had actually been quite successful, until… until his first day of high school, when instead of a serious and respect-worthy professor of English language, he saw a blonde man walking into his class like he had just come back from a drinking party and, after a minute of silence from the dumbfounded schoolmates, he began greeting everyone in a language Ichigo wasn't even sure he had ever heard.

How could that psycho be a teacher to begin with? He couldn't even do anything else beside telling creepy jokes! Oh no wait, he can tell dirty ones as well.

The only remaining luck Ichigo had left was his good relationship with the foreign language. He was the best in is class, which he felt sorry for, since Urahara's English was probably incomprehensible even for an English person. The man stated he had been in Australia for many years, but Ichigo had heard something similar to that only in The Sims, maybe.

Still, for how unintelligent that teacher could be, it seems like he had managed, somehow – maybe through an advanced hypnosis- to convince Ichigo to attend the English First Certificate Exam course. Even if the redhead knew very well that it was impossible for someone as acute as Urahara to relate to anything involving a brain, Ichigo couldn't see another way to deceive someone into accepting to do that.

That: Two extra consecutive hours of English a week after the regular 8 hours of lessons plus a level of concentration which could be maintained only with jars and jars of coffee and a transplant of a nervous system to be kept in store. Not to mention the prices. When he first was told about the costs by the course assistant, Ichigo had merely repressed a –very manly, of course- shriek.

But what was even funnier, was that those details where only half of the problem. The other fifty resided all in the teacher of the course. Grimmjow Jag-..Jagua… Grimmjow-Something. When he had first introduced himself, Ichigo's senses were so unprepared to receive all that that he couldn't even grab the name.

Before the beginning of the course, Grimmjow would have been the definition of "unreal" for the orange haired boy. A tall, well-muscled man on his 30s, with his own charm and a deep voice. When Ichigo reviewed this definition of unreal, he had to admit Grimmjow-Something was highly above that level.

His height was perfect: he wasn't so tall that he seemed clumsy, but tall enough to make anyone want to bow at his feet for how miserable he made you feel. Even if clothed, Ichigo could imagine how well toned his body was, and if imagining did what Ichigo knew it did to his mind/body, he was scared to find out what would happen if he could actually see it. Luckily, that wasn't a real life possibility.

Adding bonus points to all that, his face features were unworldly. Nice, bite-proof plump lips, incredibly white teeth- Ichigo even thought of how painful it would be to get bitten by him, but then realized the thought itself was perverted, if not creepy -, a straight nose, and those eyes, God those eyes. The boy wasn't even sure it was possible for a human to have eyes like those. They were the deepest blue Ichigo had ever seen. They went from a nearly white colour in the daylight, to an almost black shade when it was raining and the classroom was badly lit. But the tonality Ichigo preferred was the one he was seeing now: cobalt blue. Maybe even because it matched with the man's hair. Who the fuck can have blue hair anyway? Then again, he didn't have any right to say it. Mysteries of life aside, Ichigo was sure Grimmjow-Something was the only person who could master that colour without looking like a complete idiot. Actually, the effect was the opposite: he looked like a model from those famous fashion magazines.

And of course, the man in question was well aware of all the things above. The self-confidence in the way he moved, talked, or simply did anything was almost tangible.

But if the problem was only the man's appearance, then it would have been enough just to look at the book instead of him. Unluckily, Ichigo's bad luck still hadn't finished its work shift.

If his physical aspect could equal a Greek god, his voice could stir the envy of the greatest porn actor. It was deep and calm when reading the lines on the textbook, and got rougher and scratchier when losing patience towards those students who didn't pay attention at the lesson. Ichigo couldn't blame them, though. How could you concentrate on what Grimmjow-something was telling you, when he glared at you with those eyes and spoke with that shiver-coaxing voice? Wait, what?

"Hey, are you listening?" It took some moments for Ichigo to realize that the whole class was looking at him, especially the teacher, who was probably expecting an answer from the boy.

"I.. I'm sorry…" Ichigo was at a loss of words, and really hoped the neon light would blind him, so that he could at least concentrate on regaining his brain.

"If you're feeling unwell, you should go out for a bit" the blue haired man quietly said, returning his attention on the page he was explaining.

Unlucky, unlucky day.

With a whispered "Yes, thank you", Ichigo left the room, heading for the school toilets. After refreshing his face with some cold water, he rested a little bit near the window to make sure he was ok, and then he went back to his classroom.

He wasn't even given the time to sit back properly in his seat, when he felt a familiar elbow sticking in his side.

"What, Renji?" he whispered in a monotonous tone at his friend.

"Oi Ichigo, what's this "Formal Letter" thingy about?" he replied, still looking at the book as if it had grown fish scales.

Ichigo was incredulous. "Renji, how the fuck am I supposed to know when I've been out 'till now?" It was a challenge to keep his voice quiet at the moron, in this situations.

"Yes but I though… since you're so smart…" What, was he sweet-talking now?

"Urgh, listen at the lesson for a bit, then if it's still unclear for you, I'll stay a few minutes after end to explain it to you, 'kay?" After all, he did it every time. What was Renji doing in that course anyway. Thank god he could speak his native language!

"But is-"

"Abarai, it's nice that you're worried about your friend's health, but please keep your concern silently in your head while I'm speaking." The teacher interrupted him, visibly annoyed at the tattooed student.

"Yeah sorry" was the only answer the man could get.

Thirty minutes passed unexpectedly fast after that, and Grimmjow-Something was now writing the homework on the blackboard. Once done, he threw the chalk in a little box and gave his last instructions. "These are the exercises to do at home, plus the formal letter. Remember to bring it next time, or if you can't, the time after, but that's your last chance. After that, I'll refuse to correct it. Please tell the absents, Kitamura and Shiroyama, that they still have to bring me the money for the course. We're finished, see you next week."

Ichigo was now heading for the school exit. Once he would have arrived at home, he decided he should try revising that day's lesson and then he would write the formal letter for the time after . He was sure that without distractions, it wouldn't be so difficult to understand the argument. What he really didn't like about formal letters were the old fashioned and otherwise unneeded words, or the fact that, like it would happen in the final exam, he had a minimum of 120 words and a maximum of 150. That's ridiculous! If I write politely to someone, the addressee will consider my message, he won't count the number of words I used! Shit.

He was closing the door and going outside when he noticed it. Fucking shit. It was raining. He really wasn't in the mood to run home and reaching his warm noisy house dripping wet, but... did he have another choice? Sighing out his frustration at his permanently missing luck, he began the adventurous research of his umbrella inside his school bag.

Some minutes and a lot of imprecations later, he surrendered. He didn't have one. Did he just dream of putting it in his bag in the morning and seeing it every time he opened it through the day? After a minute of neurons-destroying meditation, Ichigo remembered it. Renji-fucking- Abarai had borrowed it during lunch break to go out in the park. Now the problem wasn't even the idiot's strange taste of chilling out in open air during storms or Armageddons, but instead the fact that Ichigo had seen Renji nearly flying away after the lesson because something very urgent had come up.

Unlucky, unlucky day.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the Divine Provvidence to send him a Messiah or even just an umbrella, and then he finally heard a voice.

"What are ya doin'?"

"I'm waiting for God to bring-" Uh? "Wait, what?" He opened his eyes, turned around, and looked up to meet cerulean blue eyes.

"You!... what did you just say?" Ichigo was seriously concentrating on keeping his eyes in his orbs.

"Ya really have some hearin' problems, don't ya?" The man answered, trying to keep calm after two hours of explaining in a language none of his students seemed to understand.

"You speak Japanese?" Ichigo replied, in a virile tone of voice.

"'f course I do, where do ya think I live? Duh" He stared at the bewildered boy for a few seconds, pulling out a lighter from his pocket, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

Ichigo looked around, "W-what." and then saw Grimmjow-Something's left eyebrow arching. Oh right.

"Abarai took my umbrella this morning, so I guess I'm just waiting 'til the rain stops, or at least 'til it gets less violent… " he finally answered, looking back at the sky. He hated rain, ever since that day.

"Want a lift to yer house?"he asked, his gaze returning on the boy.

"What? Er, no thanks, I don't wanna bother you…" Ichigo suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Don't worry. If ya walk there it can't be that far, so it's not a problem. Besides, I don't think it will stop soon" he finished, looking up at the black clouds.

Ichigo really wanted to say no, but then looked at the puddles on the street and at the heavy rain still falling on the city. "Then… yes, please."

Grimmjow gave him a little smirk and threw the finished cigarette on the ground, before turning it off with his foot. "Let's go, boy."

The two then headed hurriedly to the parking near the school, reaching the car in less than a minute.

XXX

Ok. How was it so far? :-D

Sorry for the little Renji bashing, (I love him, I swear, I've written lots of RenIchi before) but I needed that role for him in this story *lol*

Please, leave a comment :-)