chapter one

Contrary to popular belief, Kurosaki Ichigo could make a smart decision. Though they were far and few in between, they were usually quite good ideas.

Ichigo had decided to drive to his new collage campus a good five hours early, hoping to avoid the mad rush of new students, with all his things packed and taped down in boxes, labelled helpfully by Yuzu and Karin, though it was obvious who had taken more care in the task.

However, there was always the problem of common sense when it came to Ichigo. Or rather, his lack of, so when he tried to unlock his [new] front door, but instead found himself pushing it open with ease, only on thing came to mind:

Someone has tried to rob him before he even bothered to move in.

It did not occur to Ichigo, as he tried- and failed -to place a box of too-damn-heavy school books on the hallway floor quietly, that his [also new] roommate had bothered to show up first, no matter how damn early that had been. [They'd actually been told that they didn't have to be on campus until around ten PM. Most would have started to pour in at around eight. Ichigo thought it a wise choice to show early, to familiarize himself with the grounds, and shown up at five.]

So, calling upon his inner ninja, the messy-haired boy crept around the open door, mind focused and searching for sounds of stereotypical plate smashing and closet digging hoodlums. It also did not occur to him, at that moment, that his [still new] roommate had already unpacked and taken to his own room, but Ichigo has never had the kind of expert brains to tell the world of.

But when Ichigo did find himself tripping over something soft, warm and about the size of a small dog, he knew there something undeniably wrong with this burglary. After all, who left their damn cat on the floor to be found?

That cat in question was giving Ichigo the kind of murderous vibes that could easily be put up against those of... actually, they probably surpassed Byakuya's. And Ishida's. And, Gods, even Tatsuki's when she was angry. Ichigo didn't even know how this had happened, considering not twenty seconds ago he was creeping around in all his inner-ninja glory, but was now sprawled on the hallway-living room floor, face to face with a hissing cat.

Ichigo stared.

The damn cat stared back.

And Ichigo stared some more, because if he couldn't win a staring contest against a cat, there was seriously something wrong.

And, in return, the cat scratched him clear across his nose.

"Ow!" Ichigo yelled, because damn manly pride, that cat had some nails. "What the fuck!"

And he stepped up to his full height, hoping that such a move would cause undeniable horror within in this... this beast to leave him alone, but all it served to do was earn Ichigo with a cat scratching at his pant leg mercilessly.

"Oi!" came an all to familiar voice down the hall, and for once Ichigo was overjoyed to hear Tatsuki's loud ass mouth running off. "Ichigo! Your shit's down stairs!"

"Holy crap!" Ichigo replied, because he's never been very articulate. "Help!"

And, though Ichigo knew quite a few people who would be staying in the same building as him, he did not expect Tatsuki, Orihime, Rukia and Renji to come stepping around the door to find him at the mercy of a goddamn feline.

Of course, Renji was the first to burst into ridiculous bouts of uncontrolled laughter the minute he saw Ichigo ankle deep in stupid cat, and Rukia just barely managed to give him a look of 'sorry-but-this-is-too-good' while Orihime just stood there, looking slightly more confused than usual with Tatsuki quickly joining Renji in the point-and-laugh-at-Kurosaki festival.

Ichigo really wanted to punch something. Or someone.

Or this fucking cat.

Speaking of cat, Ichigo couldn't hear the damn things creepy hissing or feel its way too long nails digging into his flesh. Which meant...

"Ah, what's this, Pantera?"

And suddenly all five occupants of Ichigo's [now that he looked around, he can actually see things already settled that he hadn't seen before, but nonetheless still new] hallway-living room turned to stare at a wet and mostly naked teal haired, blue eyed man holding that goddamn cat.

Honestly, someone 'up there' hates him, Ichigo concluded.

And then, just to top it all off, with all the goddamn squirming that bloody cat was doing the ridiculously small towel fell, and Ichigo really wondered what he'd done to deserve such punishment.

Forty minutes later, and Ichigo's stuff- still in their respective boxes -were finally in the little hallway area, but it's definitely a step up from having them block the entrance way downstairs. But, alas, the Gods still hate poor Kurosaki Ichigo, it seemed, because the only reason it took forty minutes instead of ten is the broken elevator, and his luck at being placed on the fifth floor.

He still hated the cat. A lot. As does his nose, which is sporting a pink and equally annoying Chappy band aid across it, thanks to Rukia and Orihime's worrying [although, it'd mostly been Orihime. Ichigo was so sure that Rukia was only helping for shits and giggles. The runt. Not to mention the damn band aids on his leg. That cat had to be checked. Or something.]

In fact, the other four unwanted visitors were still in his goddamn new home, scattered around the coffee table like some, some wanted visitors. The nerve of them.

But, on the other hand, at least his new roommate was wearing pants. Thank God.

Unfortunately, he still refused to wear a shirt. Something about being in his own home and having freedom, blah blah blah.

"Is anyone going to help me?" Ichigo asked, though to who was a mystery to all. Especially since it appeared he was talking to the backs of four people who claimed themselves to be his friends. The bastards. "Anyone?"

"So you're spanish, Grimmjow?" Renji all but politely ignored Ichigo's pleas for help, and made the latter want to smash his head against the wall. Repeatedly.

"Hah, only half." The stupid shirtless blue haired freak said nonchalantly, and stretched back in a way that tightened his abdomen muscles.

Ichigo was sure at least one of his so called friends was looking at more than just Grimmjow's face, and he had a sinking feeling said friend was around his height, red haired and heavily tattooed. Not to mention male, because though Ichigo wasn't prejudice against big, flaming gays [read: Yumichika] it would put him in a tight spot if Renji were to do anything... well, anything stupid.

And trust him, Ichigo is an expert on stupid shit. Especially stupid shit that Renji has done in the past. Especially under the influence of alcohol.

Please, Ichigo stared up at the ceiling in a sort of semblance to praying; searching for whatever people searched for when they looked up at the sky like that. Please, if there is anyone up there who has a shred of pity for me, please not let Renji fuck my roommate. Please.

Yeah, it was a ceiling, but it was the thought that counts, right?

Besides, Ichigo rather liked the way his head sat on his neck the way it did. And how he was able to breath without much trouble. Not to mention how he knew that he had pretty much all his vital organs in the right place. Because if Renji did end up doing something incredibly stupid, Ichigo had no doubt in his mind that Byakuya would blame him by affiliation, or something equally confusing, and have his head in a jar; his balls in another. And he'd probably set them in his office or study, like a prized possession, and have a plaque beneath them saying, 'Beware! This is what happens to those whom dare lay hands upon Abarai Renji. By affiliation.'

"Christ." Ichigo choked out, almost dropping the box of books in his arms. He eyed the ceiling warily, and briefly wondered if he ought to go up to the rooftop and pray.

Before promptly throwing himself off.

He also wondered why the noble were called noble if they were also a tad bit possessive, and a hell of a lot obsessed, and shit load jealous. Especially with idiots like Renji, or Rukia. Or, in other circumstances, just Renji.

"...dinner sounds great!" Orihime was saying. At least, Ichigo was sure that's what she had said; it was kind of hard to tell with Orihime, since most of the things she talked about was either her strange taste in food, or her equally strange taste in friends.

"I agree," Grimmjow grinned, in that sadistic way that Ichigo was soon learning was his 'casual' smile. Talk about creeper. "Food sounds fantastic."

And, just to top this moment off, the freak licked his lips in that kind of perverted way that Ichigo knew all too well, having been raised by a dirty old pervert himself.

Jesus, Ichigo just wanted him to put on a shirt.

For Ichigo, his hair made him stand out more than he liked. Bullies were assholes, and older students who got their rocks off from beating up ten years old were just douche bags.

Grimmjow, it appeared, was making Ichigo sink into the background look easy. And not just because of his own hair color.

At least he was wearing a shirt.

Scowling, Ichigo downed another shot of- what the hell was this? Oh, well -his drink, and instantly felt the insane burn spread across his throat and tongue. And just to compliment it, he downed another. And then another.

And, fuck, why not another?

"Er, y'kay there, buddy?" asked the barmiad, eyeing his rapidly disappearing drinks. Ichigo tried to return the look, but all he managed was to eye her sizable chest, and Christ- woman could take a man's eye out with them! They were that fucking big.

"Dinner." Ichigo offered after what felt like a millennium of staring- quite blatantly, at that -and pointed at her dejectedly. "Here. For dinner."

"Ah, so you're with that group, eh?" she breezed past his staring. Ichigo figured, with boobs that big, she was probably use to it- it didn't help that they were practically popping out of her tiny dress shirt like that. She indicated with a tilt of her head towards the crowd of people around that unmistakeable, even when semi-almost-pretty much drunk, teal head, and was bloody spot on.

Ichigo offered a scowl for the group then, and promptly downed another.

"What 's this?" he asked the woman, who was wiping down the bench with a kind of bored expression on her face.

"Hmm?" she looked up, then squinted at the still full shot glass in his fingers. Without a seconds hesitation, she snatched it and gave it a quick sniff. "Oh! Tequila, haven't you ever tried it?"

From his drunk-addled blank look, she surmised that he had not, in fact, taken a few shots of Tequila before. It certainly did explain why he was practically falling over himself after about fifteen shots, though.

"Well, you're doing it all wrong," she sniffed, then let a very bright, very evil smirk spread across her pretty features. Ichigo did not like that look. "Here, let me show you how to drink it-"

"Not in a million years, Matsumoto."

The barmaid pouted. "But, I was just helping out a respectable customer, sir!"

Ichigo squinted at the small, like woah small, geezer who was making his way down from the other end of the bar.

Then, oh shit, it turned out the geezer looked a hell of a lot younger up close, even with his white hair.

"Not while on the job, Matsumoto," the geezer-but-not-a-geezer said, all serious business like. It kind of gave Ichigo the creeps, especially since the... white-haired... guy sounded like a damn ten year old. Or something. "You know the rules."

Matsumoto sighed, then beamed like the goddamn sun. It hurt Ichigo's eyes to look, so he turned away- only to end up turning around after spotting an equally blinding grin, thanks to the teal-haired freak himself. He'd take his chances with miss no-no-drink and not-geezer.

"Yes, sir!" Then, "can I go on my break now, sir?"

Not-geezer sighed, pinching his nose with forefinger and thumb. "Fine. No drinking." He eyed Ichigo this time, and the fact that the orange haired boy looked like he was half asleep on the bench, cheek pressed against the glass-like surface. "At least, not to the point of incapacitation."

"Right-o, captain!" the tan-haired woman said, before all but fluttering away.

Not that Ichigo thought that possible; not with those things on her chest weighing her down. Ichigo wondered if they could keep her buoyant in water, though, then groaned at the onslaught of mental image supplied by his own stupid brain, and pressed his other cheek against the cool surface.

This, was not cool.

At all.

There had to be, like, a list of uncool things in the world, and being shunted by your "friends" for a cockier, louder, brighter-haired dude had to seriously be in the top ten.

"Not cool," Ichigo replied to himself out loud, just to make sure his goddamn voice hadn't betrayed him. Thank Gods, it was still there.

When Ichigo opened his eyes, he knew something was most definitely not right.

It didn't help, really, that the first things he came upon after blinking himself awake was a very much naked chest.

However, because luck has never really been on Ichigo's side at all, what made this even worse was the lack of breast in his face. Or how naked he felt under the covers.

Or the way his legs were tangled with someone else's'.

So Ichigo, in all his self-proclaimed genius glory, did the first thing that came to mind, and promptly screamed.

[A/N: THERE IS SOMETHING SO VERY WRONG WITH ME. Just, y'know, thought I'd voice this. Basically, this is just crack. Like. WOAH CRACK. Later chapters will be longer, hopefully, and just before anyone asks- what is a plot?

PLOT DOES NOT EXIST. THIS IS JUST BECAUSE I HAVE ISSUES THAT NEED TO BE RESOLVED WITH EVEN STUPIDER CRAP. LIKE THIS. 8D

Enjoy!

Standard disclaimer.]