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meretricula.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kinkfest2007-04-14 12:08 am
meretricula.livejournal.com) wrote in kinkfest2007-04-14 12:08 am
Entry tags:
Bleach (ikkaku/yumichika)
title: Bleach Noir
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meretricula
rating: pg-13
word count: 669
summary: Yumichika wants to bang Humphrey Bogart. Ikkaku's just along for the ride.
warnings: peripheral het?
Madarame sat in the dark, grungy bar, nursing his glass of booze (though he'd rather have been knocking it back, and five or so more after it) and watching the door. Even if he hadn't, he'd've known when she walked in. Way he figured it, even the drunk passed out on the bar in a pool of his own spit had to know on some level that she'd come in. Long as a man still had blood running in his veins, he'd notice a woman like that.
She was a hell of a good-looking broad, Madarame observed from underneath the brim of his fedora. A tall brunette who filled out her slinky red dress in all the right ways. And she was walking in those man-killer pumps over to the corner where he sat.
"Are you Ikkaku Madarame?" she asked. Her voice was low and sultry. Some men - weaker men - would have rolled over and begged at the sound of it. Madarame just tipped his hat. "I've been looking for you."
"So I've heard. If I'd known what you looked like ahead of time, I might not have thought so hard about letting you find me."
She sat across from him, leaned forward on the scarred wood of the table. "I'm glad you did."
"'M sure you are, babe. So, what's your trouble?"
"Trouble?" She batted her long, luxurious lashes. "How do you know I'm in trouble? Couldn't I just be... looking?" She ran a nail up Madarame's arm. It was lacquered red to match her dress, and long enough to claw out a man's eye in a fight.
"In my experience, gal looks like you comes lookin' for a guy looks like me, she's in trouble of some breed or another."
She sighed, which made her dress shift in all manner of interesting ways. "You're every bit as sharp as I was told. I'm Yumi, by the way. Yumichika, really, but you can just call me Yumi."
"Well, Yumi, you don't tell me what your trouble is, I can't help you out."
"I'm looking for someone. Someone who probably won't be as obliging as you in letting me find her." She slipped a dog-eared photo out of her purse and slid it across the table to him.
"Cute kid," he remarked. "Yours?"
"No," she said, looking at him from beneath her lashes. "Would it make a difference if she were?"
"Mothers make bad clients. Too nervous."
"Her father is a friend of mine. He's vanished, probably to look for her. But I thought it might be a good idea to bring a professional into it."
"You don't want someone to look for the dad?"
"He can take care of himself." Yumi smiled slightly. "But I'd like to know where she is, and that she isn't starving in a gutter, or tied up in some pervert's personal whorehouse."
Madarame tugged on the brim of his hat, weighing the possibilities. He knew what he'd decide in the end, though. He'd always been a sucker for a beautiful woman in distress. "I'll take the case."
"Oh, thank goodness. What do you charge?"
"Two hundred a day, plus expenses. And, in your particular case, since I don't really like dealing with kids... a kiss."
She smiled and arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I'd have given you that for nothing," she murmured breathily, and pressed her lips to his.
As Madarame endured the slick and slightly slimy feeling of lipstick on his mouth, he was filled with both admiration for the twelfth division techs who had made such a perfect female gigai for Yumi, and deep burning hatred for whatever idiot had let Yumi watch Sin City while they were in the human world, starting his partner's recent obsession with all things film noir.
But, he reflected, at least Yumi had decided he wanted to sleep with Humphrey Bogart rather than be him. Ikkaku knew which of them filled out Mary Astor's dresses better, and it sure as hell wasn't him.
author:
meretricularating: pg-13
word count: 669
summary: Yumichika wants to bang Humphrey Bogart. Ikkaku's just along for the ride.
warnings: peripheral het?
Madarame sat in the dark, grungy bar, nursing his glass of booze (though he'd rather have been knocking it back, and five or so more after it) and watching the door. Even if he hadn't, he'd've known when she walked in. Way he figured it, even the drunk passed out on the bar in a pool of his own spit had to know on some level that she'd come in. Long as a man still had blood running in his veins, he'd notice a woman like that.
She was a hell of a good-looking broad, Madarame observed from underneath the brim of his fedora. A tall brunette who filled out her slinky red dress in all the right ways. And she was walking in those man-killer pumps over to the corner where he sat.
"Are you Ikkaku Madarame?" she asked. Her voice was low and sultry. Some men - weaker men - would have rolled over and begged at the sound of it. Madarame just tipped his hat. "I've been looking for you."
"So I've heard. If I'd known what you looked like ahead of time, I might not have thought so hard about letting you find me."
She sat across from him, leaned forward on the scarred wood of the table. "I'm glad you did."
"'M sure you are, babe. So, what's your trouble?"
"Trouble?" She batted her long, luxurious lashes. "How do you know I'm in trouble? Couldn't I just be... looking?" She ran a nail up Madarame's arm. It was lacquered red to match her dress, and long enough to claw out a man's eye in a fight.
"In my experience, gal looks like you comes lookin' for a guy looks like me, she's in trouble of some breed or another."
She sighed, which made her dress shift in all manner of interesting ways. "You're every bit as sharp as I was told. I'm Yumi, by the way. Yumichika, really, but you can just call me Yumi."
"Well, Yumi, you don't tell me what your trouble is, I can't help you out."
"I'm looking for someone. Someone who probably won't be as obliging as you in letting me find her." She slipped a dog-eared photo out of her purse and slid it across the table to him.
"Cute kid," he remarked. "Yours?"
"No," she said, looking at him from beneath her lashes. "Would it make a difference if she were?"
"Mothers make bad clients. Too nervous."
"Her father is a friend of mine. He's vanished, probably to look for her. But I thought it might be a good idea to bring a professional into it."
"You don't want someone to look for the dad?"
"He can take care of himself." Yumi smiled slightly. "But I'd like to know where she is, and that she isn't starving in a gutter, or tied up in some pervert's personal whorehouse."
Madarame tugged on the brim of his hat, weighing the possibilities. He knew what he'd decide in the end, though. He'd always been a sucker for a beautiful woman in distress. "I'll take the case."
"Oh, thank goodness. What do you charge?"
"Two hundred a day, plus expenses. And, in your particular case, since I don't really like dealing with kids... a kiss."
She smiled and arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I'd have given you that for nothing," she murmured breathily, and pressed her lips to his.
As Madarame endured the slick and slightly slimy feeling of lipstick on his mouth, he was filled with both admiration for the twelfth division techs who had made such a perfect female gigai for Yumi, and deep burning hatred for whatever idiot had let Yumi watch Sin City while they were in the human world, starting his partner's recent obsession with all things film noir.
But, he reflected, at least Yumi had decided he wanted to sleep with Humphrey Bogart rather than be him. Ikkaku knew which of them filled out Mary Astor's dresses better, and it sure as hell wasn't him.
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