A/N: And with this chapter, the rating is officially T xD (If you get queasy at the mention of sexual deeds, I'm afraid this chapter isn't for you. But I swear, it's pretty light stuff.)
(And by the way... I heard about Rukia's questionable literary choices somewhere else. I swear it wasn't me. But I had to include them, of course :D)
Prompt: 'Hollow Ichigo.' For the lovable auburn-haired-sadist-XD.
Summary: Hollow Ichigo is done with plain old nighttime prowling. Poor Ichigo.
(On Hollow Ichigo, Ichigo, hidden sides to inner demons, and some very dirty thoughts.)
Characters: Ichigo, Hollow Ichigo, Rukia. (Relax, it's yaoi and threesome-free.)

Chapter Three - Purity
(by with a smile.)

"Ichigo! Would you come here and poke the straw into the juicebox for me?" Rukia waved her Passionfruit-flavored juicebox around in supreme irritation. "You humans and your little devices are so ridiculous, you know that?" (Apparently, the previous thorough fascination with juiceboxes had long since caved in favor of utter frustration with impossibly small pokey-holes.)

Sure, I'll punch a hole into your juicebox, if you know what I'm saying.

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

"Stop whining, I'm coming." Ichigo snarled, trying his best to sound venomous at Rukia for interrupting his terribly important study time. Even if his inner man was relishing a chance to show off some masculinity and basic male superiority as well as a chance to escape from the throes of numerical horror under the sugarcoated title of calculus.

And even if there was a monster (and he wasn't referring to the conventional Hollow aspect of it) residing comfortably within his brain.

"This is way too complex," Rukia chucked the juicebox at him (missing in a spectacular fashion) as Ichigo made his way across the veritable mountains of clothes scattering the floor, shaking her head.

Hey baby, I can make it real simple. I'll just poke my straw in and…

I SAID SHUT UP, DAMMIT!

Ichigo snatched up the juicebox from the floor, trying not to show just how rattled he was. Anti-Ichigo (as Ichigo liked to refer to him) was being particularly restless and talkative tonight- usually he only bothered Ichigo with his "needs" in his dreams.

(Yes, those dreams really did exercise the imagination, to say the least.)

"Here," he replied tightly, jabbing a hole into the juicebox before jerking an arm out and flinging it back at Rukia, who looked startled at his rough movement and strangled tone of voice.

"Ichigo? Are you okay? You seem stressed." She glanced at him, tearing her eyes away for a second from Gloria Star: Midnight Ebullience.

(Somehow, Rukia's reading choice never did go questioned. Maybe it was because Ichigo knew that he'd find himself kidou-ed to the next century and beyond.)

(Too bad that Anti-Ichigo was having a field day imagining all the ways Gloria Star could be so ebullient.)

"Uh huh, yeah, just leave me alone." Ichigo snapped.

Stop acting so stiff, he reprimanded himself slightly. The last thing he wanted was to have Rukia suspicious of anything.

Hey man, the stiffness can't be helped.

Get the hell out of my head already! Ichigo had to resist swatting the air around his head furiously, as if the turbulence in the atmosphere might blow Not-Ichigo out.

"Ah, so it's long division today, is it? Or did you just forget to carry the one?" Rukia smirked, taking a vicious sip of her juice. She never did respond well to being snapped at. Ichigo ignored her, preoccupied as he was with ignoring someone else.

(Oh God, why did the sight of her sucking on that straw make him feel so uncomfortably warm?)

Hey Rukia, you can long divide me any day.

Shut up. Just shut the hell up.

"Whatever." Ichigo slouched back across the room and settled down in front of his desk. Good. Sitting down. Sitting down was good for hiding stiff-no, for easing soreness.

Why do you deny it? And you call yourself King! You're a cowardly bastard, you know?

No. No. You're just twisted.

Somebody hasn't hit puberty yet…

Fuck you.

Yeah, I wish.

…

You keep me so contained here… I'm going crazy. You have needs too, man. Fulfill them. Be Rukia's king.

I am not letting you indulge in voyeurism at my expense.

Don't act like you're so different from me. We're the same person, aren't we? We have the same thoughts and… feelings.

I'm not that kind of guy, dammit! You're the horny freak around here.

That hurts, Majesty. Just so you know, I'm not horny- I'm only your most primal instincts personified.

Go away. I have multi-variable calculus to deal with.

I think Rukia wants multiple variables, if you know what I mean.

No.

Aw, come on. I know what goes on in that head of yours. I know that you have desires.

There's a reason Rukia sleeps in the closet and I sleep in the main room. So that we're s-e-p-a-r-a-t-e-d.

Ahh, I get it. You like to cage her up, do you? That's fine, S&M works for me too.

…

Ichigo and rubbed his eyes and yawned, even though he'd never felt so awake and jumpy. He refused to think of Anti-Ichigo or of any of the things he'd said.

(Somehow, every time he looked at Rukia all he could think of was…)

(Never mind.)

Pushing back his chair, Ichigo stretched, attempting to go for a sleepy look. Multi-variable calculus could wait- right now, he really needed to get far, far away from Rukia. Or any female, for that matter. Or anything that moved.

"Where're you going?" she asked as he stood up and headed for the door.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

Yes, a shower. That was exactly what he needed. A very long, very cold, shower.

After all, it was inexplicably becoming stiflingly hot in here.