nameless

This guy sounds like he's probably a riot at parties. Not. "I don't take lectures well, so he better just save those for you."

Ok well for all he thought he was piecing together about Ishida based on what Ichigo has told him, Shiro can at least appreciate the forwardness and the weird amount of professionalism. Still. He considers not answering any of that on principle. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to go back to the warehouse, he wants to go back to Ichigo's shitty little apartment and go back to bed.

His brow furrows, "Yeah, it's-"

Ichigo steps forward and he looks over at the same time the doctor does. The worry on Ichigo's face is plain to see. He sighs.

Fine.

It's easier to answer those questions than look at the betrayal sleeping into Ichigo's expression when the doctor tells him he doesn't know everything about Shiro. Fuck.

Ichigo frowns. “He already answered what he takes.” And it was already more than Ichigo expected.

Ishida ignores him and pulls his stethoscope into place, warming it briefly in his palm before pressing it to Shiro’s chest. “How long have you been using? Have you ever woken up somewhere without remembering how you got there? Were you waking up sick?” 

He shifts the stethoscope and steps around Shiro…only to run directly into Ichigo. He exhales, sending him a frosty glance over his shoulder. “Kurosaki, you are literally in my elbow space. This is beyond intrusive. Go sit down before I put you outside. Hovering won’t help. I couldn’t possibly do any worse to him than a forced detox.” 

Ichigo wants to argue. It stings. Not Ishida telling him off. But the questions. Ichigo doesn’t know the answers to most of them. Why the hell doesn’t he know? They’re together enough. As much as he can manage. He knows what Shiro looks like half asleep, pissed off, hungry, horny, murderous. He can read a shift of his shoulders from across a room. But this? He apparently doesn’t know anything. 

He closes his mouth, eyes flicking to Shiro. Who still isn’t looking back. His teeth worry lightly at the inside of his cheek before he finally backs off and drops into the chair.

Ichigo's defensiveness makes him wilt a little. He feels like such an asshole. He feels guilty. Ashamed. If it was anyone else standing there, he wouldn't give a shit. The doctor? Who fucking cares. But it's Ichigo he's letting down. Fuck. What if Ichigo leaves him again? No, that doesn't make sense. Ichigo's helping him get clean again. Why bother if he's just going to pack his shit and leave.

His brows furrow a little. "How far back you want me to go? I used for a long time, years, got clean a couple times, managed to stay that way for about a year, and started again-" he gestures vaguely again towards Ichigo, sneaking a brief glance, "Uh. How long ago did we split up? Keeping track of time isn't my strong suit, especially when I'm fucked up as often as possible." It's supposed to come off as a joke, but he's not sure it sounds very funny. "I've woken up with only vague memory of how I got there, does that count? Sometimes sick, sometimes not."

His brow furrows deeper when Ishida talks that way to Ichigo. He tenses, not quite straightening, but a definite shift in his weight. He does not appreciate his boyfriend being spoken to like that. "Watch it." He warns the doctor in a low tone. Just because he's playing nice doesn't mean he'll continue to do so and just because he feels less than stellar doesn't mean he couldn't still ring the doctor's bell.

He watches enough to make sure Ichigo isn't going far when he does back up and make space. He hates that too. He doesn't want space from Ichigo. He finally braves a better glance, actually making eye contact. He just wants to know how disappointed Ichigo is in him. He wants to apologize, and hopes it's written on his face.

At least until that last question.

A wrinkle forms in Ishida’s brow and he pauses to pick up the clipboard. “So you’ve been using since you were relatively young with short to moderate periods of sobriety. When you relapsed, did you go back to your old dose immediately? Have you ever needed emergency treatment to keep you alive?”

Ishida’s gaze lifts at the warning in Shiro’s tone, but there’s no challenge in it. He’s being so damn professional Ichigo almost wants to see him snap. I stead, Ishida moves the scope again. “If he feels threatened by basic procedure, I’m certain he’ll simply break my nose.”

Ichigo huffs, though most of his attention stays on Shiro. “You never let that go.”

“Twice, Kurosaki.”

But Shiro’s looking at him that way, so he manages what he hopes looks like at least half of a smile. But then that question drops.

Ichigo’s breath hisses out. He’s on his feet before he thinks about it, half a second from getting a fist in Ishida’s collar. “Ishida.”

“There will be difficult questions. You knew that.” Ishida doesn’t turn, simply nods as he accepts the answer, steps back and puts his stethoscope into his coat pocket. “Alright.”

Then he starts writing again.

Ichigo wants to wring his neck. “What are you putting down? He said no. How long does it take to write no?”

“That’s not what I’m writing. Put simply, I’m making a note that you’re dangerously codependent. It matters because you’re apparently going to be managing his medication.”

“Dangerous?”

“To yourselves and the people around you.”

He thinks Ishida is fucking with him, but it’s hard to say and he’s still writing. “What medication?”

Ishida goes still. “This may come as a shock to you, but physicians don’t treat addiction like cavemen anymore. There are medications that could have significantly reduced his withdrawal symptoms. Depending on what he was taking and his condition, there were safer and considerably less miserable ways to do this.” His eyes narrow. “If you’d bothered to ask.”

That takes the wind out of Ichigo.

Ishida studies him from the side for a beat. “What were you giving him?”

Ichigo blinks.

Ishida’s expression goes flat. “More than water, I assume. Electrolytes?” His brow lifts. That impassive mask slips a fraction as he turns to Shiro for confirmation. “Really…? Nothing?”

Ichigo’s jaw tightens. “He wasn’t always keeping things down.”

A slow breath leaves Ishida’s nose.

"Three years." He agrees with a shrug that's a lot more casual than he feels. And, oh great, the expressionless, calculating doctor is frowning now. Shiro is so good at this addict thing. "Damn. A year is only moderate? I was proud of that too." He doesn't verbally confirm Ishida's statement, but he figures not disagreeing is just as good. He shakes his head, "No. Especially the heroin. It's too easy to build a tolerance, you gotta start small." The thing about being smart and being a dealer is that he knows how all that works, so he knows how to maximize his high. He knows what to mix with what to make it last longer, or make it stronger. "Uh." Have you ever needed emergency care to save your life isn't the type of question you should have to think about. "Yeah, but it wasn't drug related. Or. It sort of was, but I haven't ODed if that's what you're asking."

He watches that little exchange that happens between Ichigo and his doctor not-cousin. Doctor's probably right, but the funny thing is that Ichigo wouldn't need to break the man's nose because Shiro's a lot closer and less likely to stop at a broken nose.

He rolls his eyes when it's said that they're a danger to themselves and those around them. "Gee. A drug dealer and a vigilante, dangerous? Learned that in medical school? Are we done yet?" He's getting antsy and uncomfortable, which is making him snippy and wearing his patience. He almost agrees with the doctor, almost points out that he'd said they use other drugs to help ween addicts off illicit drugs. But he holds his tongue and saves the snapping for someone else.

Ishida looks at him and he shrugs, but he notes the change in the doctor's expression.

This guy sounds like he's probably a riot at parties. Not. "I don't take lectures well, so he better just save those for you."

Ok well for all he thought he was piecing together about Ishida based on what Ichigo has told him, Shiro can at least appreciate the forwardness and the weird amount of professionalism. Still. He considers not answering any of that on principle. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to go back to the warehouse, he wants to go back to Ichigo's shitty little apartment and go back to bed.

His brow furrows, "Yeah, it's-"

Ichigo steps forward and he looks over at the same time the doctor does. The worry on Ichigo's face is plain to see. He sighs.

Fine.

It's easier to answer those questions than look at the betrayal sleeping into Ichigo's expression when the doctor tells him he doesn't know everything about Shiro. Fuck.

Ichigo frowns. “He already answered what he takes.” And it was already more than Ichigo expected.

Ishida ignores him and pulls his stethoscope into place, warming it briefly in his palm before pressing it to Shiro’s chest. “How long have you been using? Have you ever woken up somewhere without remembering how you got there? Were you waking up sick?” 

He shifts the stethoscope and steps around Shiro…only to run directly into Ichigo. He exhales, sending him a frosty glance over his shoulder. “Kurosaki, you are literally in my elbow space. This is beyond intrusive. Go sit down before I put you outside. Hovering won’t help. I couldn’t possibly do any worse to him than a forced detox.” 

Ichigo wants to argue. It stings. Not Ishida telling him off. But the questions. Ichigo doesn’t know the answers to most of them. Why the hell doesn’t he know? They’re together enough. As much as he can manage. He knows what Shiro looks like half asleep, pissed off, hungry, horny, murderous. He can read a shift of his shoulders from across a room. But this? He apparently doesn’t know anything. 

He closes his mouth, eyes flicking to Shiro. Who still isn’t looking back. His teeth worry lightly at the inside of his cheek before he finally backs off and drops into the chair.

Ichigo's defensiveness makes him wilt a little. He feels like such an asshole. He feels guilty. Ashamed. If it was anyone else standing there, he wouldn't give a shit. The doctor? Who fucking cares. But it's Ichigo he's letting down. Fuck. What if Ichigo leaves him again? No, that doesn't make sense. Ichigo's helping him get clean again. Why bother if he's just going to pack his shit and leave.

His brows furrow a little. "How far back you want me to go? I used for a long time, years, got clean a couple times, managed to stay that way for about a year, and started again-" he gestures vaguely again towards Ichigo, sneaking a brief glance, "Uh. How long ago did we split up? Keeping track of time isn't my strong suit, especially when I'm fucked up as often as possible." It's supposed to come off as a joke, but he's not sure it sounds very funny. "I've woken up with only vague memory of how I got there, does that count? Sometimes sick, sometimes not."

His brow furrows deeper when Ishida talks that way to Ichigo. He tenses, not quite straightening, but a definite shift in his weight. He does not appreciate his boyfriend being spoken to like that. "Watch it." He warns the doctor in a low tone. Just because he's playing nice doesn't mean he'll continue to do so and just because he feels less than stellar doesn't mean he couldn't still ring the doctor's bell.

He watches enough to make sure Ichigo isn't going far when he does back up and make space. He hates that too. He doesn't want space from Ichigo. He finally braves a better glance, actually making eye contact. He just wants to know how disappointed Ichigo is in him. He wants to apologize, and hopes it's written on his face.

At least until that last question.

He arches a brow. "So don't give him anything to blackmail you with- y'know what? Nevermind. Why am I arguing for that freak's case. Don't trust him, don't go to him for shit if you don't have to."

That's the most Ichigo response he can think of and he's not sure what he expected. But he blinks. "Yeah I still have it, as far as I know. Why wouldn't I? I have all my organs, mostly. Don't you?" What a weird turn for this conversation. He rolls his eyes, "Settle down, kujo. He's seen it. He gets it. No one around me, no one that knows anything about me, thinks I make hollow threats. I follow through and they all know it."

He grunts a sound between amused and dry. "If it doesn't involve the bat, I'm definitely willing to try."

Ichigo turns to look at him directly and Shiro immediately knows he was too obvious. Dammit. Except the idea of getting physical- Er. Getting a physical from Ichigo sounds extremely appealing. He nods, emphatically, immediately. "What do you mean? I bet you'd do a great job. I feel healthier just thinking about it."

But Ichigo's studying him like he's trying to unlock some secret and he's still holding his hand and it all makes him feel a little trapped. He looks away, at nothing, at anything, it doesn't matter. He shrugs. "No, doctors are fine. Seeing him is fine. It's all the other shit that always comes with doctors and hospitals that I don't like. The poking and prodding and questions, the judgement, the hallways and being confined to a shitty white room." He hasn't had a routine visit anywhere since he was little. The few times in his adult life he's been to an actual hospital and seen an actual doctor have never been good.

His hand starts toward his stomach and the jagged scar there. The one he got hunting Yhwach’s men. It wasn’t the first or even second time he’s almost died, but it might’ve been the closest. “Mostly.” The same as Shiro. 

He looks back up, drops his hand from his middle. “Fine. But you don’t get to call me after a dog. You’ve never had me on a leash.” Not a real one anyway. He remembers back when Shiro used to threaten him. Weird, but he misses it. Now, those threats would be less infuriating and more hot. 

A smirk. “I can help you be healthy later.”

But he files away the fact that Shiro’s into a little playacting. They could come up with all sorts of games like that.

“Oh.”

That makes sense, though Ichigo still thinks Shiro’s picturing this wrong.

“It wont be like that. He’ll probably examine you in the loading bay. Or the office down there, usually. It’s definitely not neat or white. And if he gets judgmental, you can remind him he’s giving off the books care to a druglord in his dad’s loading bay. We’ll see if he can still look smug after that.”

It's hard not to be reminded of that scar when Ichigo's hand wanders to his own stomach. Shiro has seen and felt that scar too many times to count. He nods.

"We could change that." A smirk tugs at his features and his eyes slide towards Ichigo, straying down to the side of his neck for a moment. A neck that would look great in a little leather collar.

He exhales an exasperated groan, "You know I'm not patient. You're really gonna make me wait until later? Whatever later means? I'm gonna be thinking about your hands the whole time your doctor is giving me a physical. It's gonna be awkward for him." Not really. He's a lot more likely to be thinking about how he better pass inspection so he can go back to his locked warehouse because somehow that's better than a hospital room.

"Oh good, a loading bay is way more speed." He's being both serious and sarcastic at the same time. He's kind of just grumpy about doing something that wasn't his idea, let alone something involving a doctor.

He takes the car out of the space and onto the road. Then the rest of what Shiro said catches up with him. Ichigo’s head snaps around. “You’re gonna be thinking about me while he examines you?”

Okay…

Maybe Shiro really does have a type.

Though, Ichigo’s pretty into it. If it were literally anyone else doing this exam. So what’s that say about him? He might really be into it. Normally they fuck like animals or horny teens, and it’s good, but he’s not even against whatever is being suggested here. So long as they lock Ishida in a closet somewhere before anything real starts.

He shifts some, gives his jean leg a subtle tug. “I think you’ve messed me up. Infected me with your weird kinks.”

The hospital grounds are a maze of curbs and clean pavement, parked cars, and service lanes. By the time Ichigo circles around the building, Ishida is waiting in the frame of an open bay, arms folded and looking resigned. Like a guy that’s been dragged down to the bowels of this place far more times than he ever wanted or expected to be.

Ichigo pulls the car just inside then looks over. “Fair warning, Ishida’s got glasses, weighs about ninety pounds soaking wet, and has the personality of an honor roll student. I know that’s a lot to take in, but try to control yourself. He’s here to work.”

“You’re late,” Ishida says before Ichigo’s even had his door open two seconds. “I do have other patients, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes and walks around the car, then remembers Shiro can get out just fine by himself without help, and that distinction might matter to Ishida. Ichigo crosses his own arms and stares back. “We didn’t set a time. How am I late?”

“Because when you used the word emergency, I assumed you knew what it meant. It isn't dragging your feet for twenty minutes while I stand around trying not to alarm dock workers.”

Ichigo bites down on a sarcastic retort. He was definitely insulted there somewhere. But he also needs a favor, so, “Yeah, I get it. Sorry.” He doesn’t even close to mean it.

Ishida’s attention shifts past him to Shiro. He gives him one brief, assessing look, and if he recognizes him—and really, who wouldn’t—nothing about his expression gives it away. Some of the irritation leaves his face.

“Yes. This way.”

The office is exactly where they go. Ishida is so damn predictable. But the desk is cleared and covered in a thin blue paper cloth. Ishida gestures.

"Watch the road." He mutters when Ichigo's attention jerks to him instead of where he's driving. He just got his car back... But he shrugs, "Seems like it might make this a more enjoyable experience."

He sees that shifting, the hesitating, the thinking. He scoffs, "Messed you up? You mean I gave you a safe place to be honest with yourself." As an afterthought, "and my kinks aren't weird."

He watches the parking lot, paying attention to where they go, where they came from. He feels as if he's looking for an escape route, which is crazy because he's with Ichigo. He doesn't need an escape route. He's here mostly of his own free will. He could have argued against it harder if he wanted to. He could probably even downright refuse. He doubts Ichigo would actually force him.

His attention zeros in on the loading bay Ichigo is pulled up to and the guy standing in the shadow of the doorway like this is about to be a drug deal instead of a charitable health service. Automatically, his attention does a sweep of the man and for a second he thinks he's not half bad looking. He snorts an amused sound at Ichigo's warning. "Now all I need is a locker to shove him into."

But as Ichigo opens the driver door and those first words are spoken, any mild attraction is squashed. He doubts he's going to get along with Ichigo's not-cousin very well. "Seriously. I think I might shove him in a locker." He mumbles, opening his door to get out of the car. If anything, his first impression is that Ishida and Szayel aren't all that different, except one is a criminal and one operates inside the law. He's got that same calculating gaze that makes it feel like secrets are going to be hard to guard.

He follows Ishida into the office, but not before glancing to make sure Ichigo is coming too. He eyes that blue paper with thinly veiled disgust. Instead of sitting on the desk, he moves to lean back against the edge and considers stripping from his shirt anyway, because that feels less compromising than sitting on the desk-turned-hosptial bed.

He does straighten out in his lane. Not because Shiro told him to. “I wouldn’t bet on it. I made a joke about playing doctor once and got my head chewed off. Something about doctor-patient trust or something. I don’t know, I stopped listening.”

Shiro seems twitchier than ever when they pull into the hospital. But he’s still making jokes so that’s a good sign. Or maybe not. Ichigo snorts. “I always knew there was a reason we get along so well.”

Ishida answers without inflection or taking his eyes from the clock, barely acknowledging the fading marks. “It establishes a baseline. I’m also going to ask what you’ve been taking and how you’ve been taking it. Opioids? Prescription, heroin, fentanyl? How often? How much on an average day?” His gaze finally shifts to Shiro. “Your actual average. Not the amount you think sounds reasonable when you say it out loud.”

“And you’re free to leave whenever you wish.” He releases Shiro’s wrist, jots down the numbers, then removes the cuff. “And if he is accidentally killing you?” A glance at the reading. “Your blood pressure is elevated.”

Ichigo blinks, straightens from his spot against the wall then steps closer, stomach twisting the whole way. “A week and a half ago.” It’s the only reason he got him into that warehouse so easily.

Ishida’s eyes shift from Shiro to Ichigo. “I didn’t ask you. I asked him.” Ishida sighs at the look on Ichigo’s face. “There will be questions you’re sure you know the answer to, but you won’t know the answer.”

This guy sounds like he's probably a riot at parties. Not. "I don't take lectures well, so he better just save those for you."

Ok well for all he thought he was piecing together about Ishida based on what Ichigo has told him, Shiro can at least appreciate the forwardness and the weird amount of professionalism. Still. He considers not answering any of that on principle. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to go back to the warehouse, he wants to go back to Ichigo's shitty little apartment and go back to bed.

His brow furrows, "Yeah, it's-"

Ichigo steps forward and he looks over at the same time the doctor does. The worry on Ichigo's face is plain to see. He sighs.

Fine.

It's easier to answer those questions than look at the betrayal sleeping into Ichigo's expression when the doctor tells him he doesn't know everything about Shiro. Fuck.

He arches a brow. "So don't give him anything to blackmail you with- y'know what? Nevermind. Why am I arguing for that freak's case. Don't trust him, don't go to him for shit if you don't have to."

That's the most Ichigo response he can think of and he's not sure what he expected. But he blinks. "Yeah I still have it, as far as I know. Why wouldn't I? I have all my organs, mostly. Don't you?" What a weird turn for this conversation. He rolls his eyes, "Settle down, kujo. He's seen it. He gets it. No one around me, no one that knows anything about me, thinks I make hollow threats. I follow through and they all know it."

He grunts a sound between amused and dry. "If it doesn't involve the bat, I'm definitely willing to try."

Ichigo turns to look at him directly and Shiro immediately knows he was too obvious. Dammit. Except the idea of getting physical- Er. Getting a physical from Ichigo sounds extremely appealing. He nods, emphatically, immediately. "What do you mean? I bet you'd do a great job. I feel healthier just thinking about it."

But Ichigo's studying him like he's trying to unlock some secret and he's still holding his hand and it all makes him feel a little trapped. He looks away, at nothing, at anything, it doesn't matter. He shrugs. "No, doctors are fine. Seeing him is fine. It's all the other shit that always comes with doctors and hospitals that I don't like. The poking and prodding and questions, the judgement, the hallways and being confined to a shitty white room." He hasn't had a routine visit anywhere since he was little. The few times in his adult life he's been to an actual hospital and seen an actual doctor have never been good.

His hand starts toward his stomach and the jagged scar there. The one he got hunting Yhwach’s men. It wasn’t the first or even second time he’s almost died, but it might’ve been the closest. “Mostly.” The same as Shiro. 

He looks back up, drops his hand from his middle. “Fine. But you don’t get to call me after a dog. You’ve never had me on a leash.” Not a real one anyway. He remembers back when Shiro used to threaten him. Weird, but he misses it. Now, those threats would be less infuriating and more hot. 

A smirk. “I can help you be healthy later.”

But he files away the fact that Shiro’s into a little playacting. They could come up with all sorts of games like that.

“Oh.”

That makes sense, though Ichigo still thinks Shiro’s picturing this wrong.

“It wont be like that. He’ll probably examine you in the loading bay. Or the office down there, usually. It’s definitely not neat or white. And if he gets judgmental, you can remind him he’s giving off the books care to a druglord in his dad’s loading bay. We’ll see if he can still look smug after that.”

It's hard not to be reminded of that scar when Ichigo's hand wanders to his own stomach. Shiro has seen and felt that scar too many times to count. He nods.

"We could change that." A smirk tugs at his features and his eyes slide towards Ichigo, straying down to the side of his neck for a moment. A neck that would look great in a little leather collar.

He exhales an exasperated groan, "You know I'm not patient. You're really gonna make me wait until later? Whatever later means? I'm gonna be thinking about your hands the whole time your doctor is giving me a physical. It's gonna be awkward for him." Not really. He's a lot more likely to be thinking about how he better pass inspection so he can go back to his locked warehouse because somehow that's better than a hospital room.

"Oh good, a loading bay is way more speed." He's being both serious and sarcastic at the same time. He's kind of just grumpy about doing something that wasn't his idea, let alone something involving a doctor.

He takes the car out of the space and onto the road. Then the rest of what Shiro said catches up with him. Ichigo’s head snaps around. “You’re gonna be thinking about me while he examines you?”

Okay…

Maybe Shiro really does have a type.

Though, Ichigo’s pretty into it. If it were literally anyone else doing this exam. So what’s that say about him? He might really be into it. Normally they fuck like animals or horny teens, and it’s good, but he’s not even against whatever is being suggested here. So long as they lock Ishida in a closet somewhere before anything real starts.

He shifts some, gives his jean leg a subtle tug. “I think you’ve messed me up. Infected me with your weird kinks.”

The hospital grounds are a maze of curbs and clean pavement, parked cars, and service lanes. By the time Ichigo circles around the building, Ishida is waiting in the frame of an open bay, arms folded and looking resigned. Like a guy that’s been dragged down to the bowels of this place far more times than he ever wanted or expected to be.

Ichigo pulls the car just inside then looks over. “Fair warning, Ishida’s got glasses, weighs about ninety pounds soaking wet, and has the personality of an honor roll student. I know that’s a lot to take in, but try to control yourself. He’s here to work.”

“You’re late,” Ishida says before Ichigo’s even had his door open two seconds. “I do have other patients, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes and walks around the car, then remembers Shiro can get out just fine by himself without help, and that distinction might matter to Ishida. Ichigo crosses his own arms and stares back. “We didn’t set a time. How am I late?”

“Because when you used the word emergency, I assumed you knew what it meant. It isn't dragging your feet for twenty minutes while I stand around trying not to alarm dock workers.”

Ichigo bites down on a sarcastic retort. He was definitely insulted there somewhere. But he also needs a favor, so, “Yeah, I get it. Sorry.” He doesn’t even close to mean it.

Ishida’s attention shifts past him to Shiro. He gives him one brief, assessing look, and if he recognizes him—and really, who wouldn’t—nothing about his expression gives it away. Some of the irritation leaves his face.

“Yes. This way.”

The office is exactly where they go. Ishida is so damn predictable. But the desk is cleared and covered in a thin blue paper cloth. Ishida gestures.

"Watch the road." He mutters when Ichigo's attention jerks to him instead of where he's driving. He just got his car back... But he shrugs, "Seems like it might make this a more enjoyable experience."

He sees that shifting, the hesitating, the thinking. He scoffs, "Messed you up? You mean I gave you a safe place to be honest with yourself." As an afterthought, "and my kinks aren't weird."

He watches the parking lot, paying attention to where they go, where they came from. He feels as if he's looking for an escape route, which is crazy because he's with Ichigo. He doesn't need an escape route. He's here mostly of his own free will. He could have argued against it harder if he wanted to. He could probably even downright refuse. He doubts Ichigo would actually force him.

His attention zeros in on the loading bay Ichigo is pulled up to and the guy standing in the shadow of the doorway like this is about to be a drug deal instead of a charitable health service. Automatically, his attention does a sweep of the man and for a second he thinks he's not half bad looking. He snorts an amused sound at Ichigo's warning. "Now all I need is a locker to shove him into."

But as Ichigo opens the driver door and those first words are spoken, any mild attraction is squashed. He doubts he's going to get along with Ichigo's not-cousin very well. "Seriously. I think I might shove him in a locker." He mumbles, opening his door to get out of the car. If anything, his first impression is that Ishida and Szayel aren't all that different, except one is a criminal and one operates inside the law. He's got that same calculating gaze that makes it feel like secrets are going to be hard to guard.

He follows Ishida into the office, but not before glancing to make sure Ichigo is coming too. He eyes that blue paper with thinly veiled disgust. Instead of sitting on the desk, he moves to lean back against the edge and considers stripping from his shirt anyway, because that feels less compromising than sitting on the desk-turned-hosptial bed.

He arches a brow. "So don't give him anything to blackmail you with- y'know what? Nevermind. Why am I arguing for that freak's case. Don't trust him, don't go to him for shit if you don't have to."

That's the most Ichigo response he can think of and he's not sure what he expected. But he blinks. "Yeah I still have it, as far as I know. Why wouldn't I? I have all my organs, mostly. Don't you?" What a weird turn for this conversation. He rolls his eyes, "Settle down, kujo. He's seen it. He gets it. No one around me, no one that knows anything about me, thinks I make hollow threats. I follow through and they all know it."

He grunts a sound between amused and dry. "If it doesn't involve the bat, I'm definitely willing to try."

Ichigo turns to look at him directly and Shiro immediately knows he was too obvious. Dammit. Except the idea of getting physical- Er. Getting a physical from Ichigo sounds extremely appealing. He nods, emphatically, immediately. "What do you mean? I bet you'd do a great job. I feel healthier just thinking about it."

But Ichigo's studying him like he's trying to unlock some secret and he's still holding his hand and it all makes him feel a little trapped. He looks away, at nothing, at anything, it doesn't matter. He shrugs. "No, doctors are fine. Seeing him is fine. It's all the other shit that always comes with doctors and hospitals that I don't like. The poking and prodding and questions, the judgement, the hallways and being confined to a shitty white room." He hasn't had a routine visit anywhere since he was little. The few times in his adult life he's been to an actual hospital and seen an actual doctor have never been good.

His hand starts toward his stomach and the jagged scar there. The one he got hunting Yhwach’s men. It wasn’t the first or even second time he’s almost died, but it might’ve been the closest. “Mostly.” The same as Shiro. 

He looks back up, drops his hand from his middle. “Fine. But you don’t get to call me after a dog. You’ve never had me on a leash.” Not a real one anyway. He remembers back when Shiro used to threaten him. Weird, but he misses it. Now, those threats would be less infuriating and more hot. 

A smirk. “I can help you be healthy later.”

But he files away the fact that Shiro’s into a little playacting. They could come up with all sorts of games like that.

“Oh.”

That makes sense, though Ichigo still thinks Shiro’s picturing this wrong.

“It wont be like that. He’ll probably examine you in the loading bay. Or the office down there, usually. It’s definitely not neat or white. And if he gets judgmental, you can remind him he’s giving off the books care to a druglord in his dad’s loading bay. We’ll see if he can still look smug after that.”

It's hard not to be reminded of that scar when Ichigo's hand wanders to his own stomach. Shiro has seen and felt that scar too many times to count. He nods.

"We could change that." A smirk tugs at his features and his eyes slide towards Ichigo, straying down to the side of his neck for a moment. A neck that would look great in a little leather collar.

He exhales an exasperated groan, "You know I'm not patient. You're really gonna make me wait until later? Whatever later means? I'm gonna be thinking about your hands the whole time your doctor is giving me a physical. It's gonna be awkward for him." Not really. He's a lot more likely to be thinking about how he better pass inspection so he can go back to his locked warehouse because somehow that's better than a hospital room.

"Oh good, a loading bay is way more speed." He's being both serious and sarcastic at the same time. He's kind of just grumpy about doing something that wasn't his idea, let alone something involving a doctor.

He's sure Ichigo's trying to find a replacement for his not-cousin so he doesn't get it when Ichigo says his answer is disappointing. It sounds perfectly reasonable to him. Szayel's just like the rest of the type he hangs around; cutthroat but ultimately in it for the money and trying to make a living. Well. Knowing Szayel, he's having fun too. "Why? Cash isn't a problem for you."

Oh, there's another protective little spark. It makes Shiro feel some type of way. "Aww, you're worried about my kidneys? That's sweet." He's being sarcastic, teasing even, but mostly because Ichigo worrying over him is flattering in a totally non sexual way he doesn't know how to handle. He waves the concern off. "I'm fine. He knows I could cripple him financially and physically. But I try not to need him anyway." He's not the one getting himself into situations he can't get out of alive. That's Ichigo's forte.

"You want me to hit you with a bat? I'm into a lot of things but I think that's a bit much, even for me." In other words; absolutely not. But he knows Ichigo's only kind of serious. That sigh sounds so resigned and Shiro sees his opportunity to try to get out of being seen by a doctor. "We don't have to go, you know? If seeing him is that rough on you, maybe we should skip it."

“Yeah.” He presses his lips, makes a face. “But I’m not using a cent of it to pay blackmail. Fuck that. I earned it the hard way.” 

If the guy tried to blackmail him, at most he might get a few shady favors. Ichigo has his dignity and all that. And a handful of crumpled morals leftover from all the shit his old man tried pounding into him. Something. 

“Kidneys. Liver. Spleen. All the parts,” he agrees easily, not falling for that tone. “Even your appendix, if you’ve still got that.” 

He’s never thought to ask. 

Another huff. This whole subject rankles. “Knowing something intellectually isn’t the same as really believing it. He should be pissing himself if the thought so much as crosses his mind.”

In an ideal world, at least.

Ichigo drops some cash on the table with a vague sound. “Fine. Try fucking me into a coma first. We’ll see if that takes.”

Only half his attention is on the conversation as they head outside, his gaze already sweeping the area. He obviously wasn’t serious, but when all those thoughtful offers start rolling off Shiro’s tongue, the sheer oddness of it catches his attention. He turns to look at him directly. 

“Well, I could try giving you a physical, but something tells me it won’t be the same.” Because obviously it’ll just be a lot of sex on a table. 

But Ichigo frowns as they reach the car, still holding Shiro’s hand. “Sounds like seeing him might be harder on you.” His eyes search Shiro’s face. “You don’t like doctors?” 

He knew that, kind of. Ichigo’s not sure what else it could be. “I’m not gonna let him do anything bad.” His thumb traces slower over the back of those knuckles, over the scar tissue there. 

He arches a brow. "So don't give him anything to blackmail you with- y'know what? Nevermind. Why am I arguing for that freak's case. Don't trust him, don't go to him for shit if you don't have to."

That's the most Ichigo response he can think of and he's not sure what he expected. But he blinks. "Yeah I still have it, as far as I know. Why wouldn't I? I have all my organs, mostly. Don't you?" What a weird turn for this conversation. He rolls his eyes, "Settle down, kujo. He's seen it. He gets it. No one around me, no one that knows anything about me, thinks I make hollow threats. I follow through and they all know it."

He grunts a sound between amused and dry. "If it doesn't involve the bat, I'm definitely willing to try."

Ichigo turns to look at him directly and Shiro immediately knows he was too obvious. Dammit. Except the idea of getting physical- Er. Getting a physical from Ichigo sounds extremely appealing. He nods, emphatically, immediately. "What do you mean? I bet you'd do a great job. I feel healthier just thinking about it."

But Ichigo's studying him like he's trying to unlock some secret and he's still holding his hand and it all makes him feel a little trapped. He looks away, at nothing, at anything, it doesn't matter. He shrugs. "No, doctors are fine. Seeing him is fine. It's all the other shit that always comes with doctors and hospitals that I don't like. The poking and prodding and questions, the judgement, the hallways and being confined to a shitty white room." He hasn't had a routine visit anywhere since he was little. The few times in his adult life he's been to an actual hospital and seen an actual doctor have never been good.

He can't get the smug little half smirk off his face when he hears that small sound Ichigo makes. Whether or not they actually end up in a plane, he's definitely getting a pole now. He's already thinking of where he can have it installed in the penthouse.

This just goes to show that Ichigo wouldn't make a very good boss. Shiro's great at telling people what to do, the only reason he does as much actual work as he does, instead of sitting around all the time and doing little to nothing, is because he gets bored and antsy. But at least since he was taking it all on by himself, Ichigo didn't delegate tasks to the wrong people.

Ichigo's reaction seems dramatic. Damn. Whatever weird relationship they have must be awkward as hell. "Did you fuck your cousin?" He literally cannot think of what else could make it this weird. "Szayel's fine as long as you keep the upper hand with him and pay in cash, not favors. You're more likely to get blackmailed than have a kidney stolen." All that being said; "I've never let him knock me out fully though." He shrugs as he adds it. He just doesn't trust many people like that. Ichigo might honestly be the only one.

There. That’s the right level of offended. 

“Well, that’s disappointing.” Ichigo does have a nasty habit of crawling in half dead, passing out, things like that. Though, he promised Shiro it wouldn’t be like that anymore.

His attention lands back on Shiro and he frowns. “I don’t want you going to that back-alley surgeon alone anymore.” Something he likely didn’t need to say, and Shiro will do whatever he wants anyway. Still. If Shiro has to keep an eye cracked... “Or you could collect his debts and crush his business prospects until he’s totally dependent on you.” 

He gets that hand on his back, and he hates this so much he doesn’t even care that it’s probably because he looks pathetic. Forget? Funny. “I’m going to need to be knocked over the head pretty hard for that. But I’ve been through your place now, so I know you have a bat. And I’m guessing it’s not because you started a league.” 

He sighs. “Come on.”

He's sure Ichigo's trying to find a replacement for his not-cousin so he doesn't get it when Ichigo says his answer is disappointing. It sounds perfectly reasonable to him. Szayel's just like the rest of the type he hangs around; cutthroat but ultimately in it for the money and trying to make a living. Well. Knowing Szayel, he's having fun too. "Why? Cash isn't a problem for you."

Oh, there's another protective little spark. It makes Shiro feel some type of way. "Aww, you're worried about my kidneys? That's sweet." He's being sarcastic, teasing even, but mostly because Ichigo worrying over him is flattering in a totally non sexual way he doesn't know how to handle. He waves the concern off. "I'm fine. He knows I could cripple him financially and physically. But I try not to need him anyway." He's not the one getting himself into situations he can't get out of alive. That's Ichigo's forte.

"You want me to hit you with a bat? I'm into a lot of things but I think that's a bit much, even for me." In other words; absolutely not. But he knows Ichigo's only kind of serious. That sigh sounds so resigned and Shiro sees his opportunity to try to get out of being seen by a doctor. "We don't have to go, you know? If seeing him is that rough on you, maybe we should skip it."

A bomb shelter; he snorts a laugh about that despite trying to make his argument. "Yeah, that's usually what being in the closet means: hiding from who you're really attracted to. Which was me. Everyone could see it." He doesn't actually know if that's true or not, but passing up the chance to tease Ichigo is impossible. "Hot. I'd let you, too, but only a little."

He's distracted by his imagination vividly conjuring up images of Ichigo on a pole in an empty plane. Just them. No interruptions. Ichigo's answer of maybe doesn't sound all that promising. "I'm sure I'd be hot as hell on a pole, but I probably need lessons first. You show me how and I'll give it a try. With lots of hands-on guidance."

Ichigo answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Right. Of course." His voice is a little dry. He doesn't dwell on his situation growing up very often these days, but it's ingrained to be a little unhappy when certain things get brought up.

He gets the distinct feeling that whatever Ichigo was thinking, he's changed his mind about. The mention of spending their time drinking feels like an olive branch, or maybe like giving ice cream to a child to make sure they have a good time. He's not sure if he's ashamed by that or not. "Good. Who wants to work up a sweat on vacation?" Not him. Lazy beach walks, lounging by the water with a drink in hand, maybe even snorkeling, is more his speed. "It sounds fun, I'm sure we'll have a great time."

He matches Ichigo's shrug. He'd know better than Shiro.

He blinks hard. That… might be absolutely right. He’s long since come to terms that he was mortifyingly attracted to Shiro, but not so much that he was completely obvious about it. “Who is everyone?” Probably the entire warehouse crew. Rukia. Renji. Car guy. But his eyes flick to Shiro at the permission. A little is all he needs. Just thinking about it turns his breath shuddery. Sliding hands around that pale throat. The gesture as much possession as protection, because if Ichigo had it in his grip, no one else would ever be getting to it. 

Ichigo shifts in his seat when his brain goes places. Lessons. He wonders if Shiro has enough money to get away with fucking right here in this booth. Probably. The entire idea leaves Ichigo making a helpless sound. And he’d cover it by saying something, except if he so much as opens his mouth it’s going to be a travesty of simpery. 

He nods. “Let me unload some stuff onto Rukia and Renji.” Now that Shiro mentions it, he’s not sure why it never occurred to him. Shiro’s current guys aren’t going to be thrilled. They weren’t happy when Ichigo walked through the door either, never mind getting benched in favor of newcomers now. Whatever. Shiro will iron it out later. He’s a hell of a lot better at it than Ichigo. 

His stomach sinks immediately at that suggestion. Ask Ishida what he wants…? The answer is absolutely certain to come with a long lecture. He’s still borderlining panic while the food is taken. But this is Shiro’s skillset. Placating difficult people. “Uh…” Okay. Okay, he can do that. Gifts are easier than— 

He drops his head straight into the table top with a hollow thunk. Good thing that food is gone. But goddammit. It’s so much harder to deal with people he wants to keep around versus people he doesn’t. “Ugh. How reliable is your body snatcher? Maybe I could just get a new patch up guy. I mean, I have two kidneys. Seems excessive.”

He can't get the smug little half smirk off his face when he hears that small sound Ichigo makes. Whether or not they actually end up in a plane, he's definitely getting a pole now. He's already thinking of where he can have it installed in the penthouse.

This just goes to show that Ichigo wouldn't make a very good boss. Shiro's great at telling people what to do, the only reason he does as much actual work as he does, instead of sitting around all the time and doing little to nothing, is because he gets bored and antsy. But at least since he was taking it all on by himself, Ichigo didn't delegate tasks to the wrong people.

Ichigo's reaction seems dramatic. Damn. Whatever weird relationship they have must be awkward as hell. "Did you fuck your cousin?" He literally cannot think of what else could make it this weird. "Szayel's fine as long as you keep the upper hand with him and pay in cash, not favors. You're more likely to get blackmailed than have a kidney stolen." All that being said; "I've never let him knock me out fully though." He shrugs as he adds it. He just doesn't trust many people like that. Ichigo might honestly be the only one.

He shrugs, "Do you want other guys to be into me enough to fight you for me? That sounds crazy, y'know? Whatever he's doing, seems like he's being civil. That's normal. And for the record, smug is a good look on me, so no."

The way Ichigo seems so surprised cracks him up. "All of it, but especially the part where you were trying to be in a straight relationship." He frowns lightly at those chopsticks as they poke him, smacking them away half heartedly before he looks back up at Ichigo. He scoffs, "Exactly! Like I said; no one who's attracted to men doesn't drool over my ass. You were definitely attracted to me, I could tell. I don't waste my time on straight guys very often. You were attracted me, from inside the closet." At this point he's mostly just teasing to get a ride out of Ichigo, keeping himself entertained. He agrees with Ichigo's statement easily. "That, and you're hot. That fuckin' scowly thing you did every time you saw me? Like you wanted to strangle me in a murder way and also a kink way? Hot." Oh. There's that little jealous streak again. He grins. "Why? A little flirtatious distraction goes a long way sometimes." It's not his fault if someone is thinking too hard with their dick instead of working out the math they're negotiating.

He snorts a laugh at how casually Ichigo mentions his finances. "Good to know I'm still sittin' pretty after I hired my own kidnappers and you running my business." His brows go up, "Is that a real thing? Can I get one with a pole? Will you dance on it?" Of course his brain goes from strippers to Ichigo stripping. He's obsessed. Even if he did higher strippers, there's no way he'd find them as attractive as Ichigo.

Snorkeling. Huh. "Have you done that before?" He's genuinely curious. This all sounds a little far fetched; a tropical beach vacation with snorkeling. That's the kind of thing you see on TV, not the kind of thing he ever thought he'd experience. But he frowns. "Why would I hate it? Better yet, if you think I'm gonna hate it, why are we doing it?"

He rolls his eyes about being corrected. "How is a clinic different from a hospital?"

“I was doing fine.” He might have killed her father a little. Ichigo’s eyes narrow so much they’re little more than slits. “I think my ‘closet’ was a place for hiding specifically from you. So more like a bomb shelter.” He really wanted to get away back then. Something about Shiro terrified him in a heart pounding sort of way. He huffs. “I still want to strangle you.” There hasn’t been a minute since he met Shiro he hasn’t wanted to get his hands around his neck. 

He takes a bite, totally unsurprised that’s Shiro’s first question. “Yes.” It is a thing. “Probably. Yeah.” Though ‘can I?’ and ‘should I?’ aren’t even close to the same thing. The last question trips him up. Enough he’s turning his head with his food headed halfway to his mouth. Can he dance? Passably. Does he? Only when he’s really tipsy or a job calls for it. But the reason he’s stuck, isn’t either of those. “Maybe.” His eyes coast along Shiro. “That sounds more like your thing.” And now that idea is thoroughly stuck in his brain. He’s going to be plagued by little fantasy pole dancing boyfriends for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah, of course I have.” For most people, snorkeling wasn’t exactly unusual. School trips, family vacations…

Shiro never had any of that.

“I’m kidding. It’ll be fun. It’s not even that athletic, so it should be perfect for you.” A smirk tugs at his mouth. “You can drink while we paddle around. And if you hate it, we’ll do something else. Like see turtles or dolphins or something.” 

“A clinic is smaller.” He shrugs. “We did mostly routine stuff.” The distinction hardly matters anymore. Even with Isshin out, nobody’s lining up to see the doctor who just got out of prison.

A bomb shelter; he snorts a laugh about that despite trying to make his argument. "Yeah, that's usually what being in the closet means: hiding from who you're really attracted to. Which was me. Everyone could see it." He doesn't actually know if that's true or not, but passing up the chance to tease Ichigo is impossible. "Hot. I'd let you, too, but only a little."

He's distracted by his imagination vividly conjuring up images of Ichigo on a pole in an empty plane. Just them. No interruptions. Ichigo's answer of maybe doesn't sound all that promising. "I'm sure I'd be hot as hell on a pole, but I probably need lessons first. You show me how and I'll give it a try. With lots of hands-on guidance."

Ichigo answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Right. Of course." His voice is a little dry. He doesn't dwell on his situation growing up very often these days, but it's ingrained to be a little unhappy when certain things get brought up.

He gets the distinct feeling that whatever Ichigo was thinking, he's changed his mind about. The mention of spending their time drinking feels like an olive branch, or maybe like giving ice cream to a child to make sure they have a good time. He's not sure if he's ashamed by that or not. "Good. Who wants to work up a sweat on vacation?" Not him. Lazy beach walks, lounging by the water with a drink in hand, maybe even snorkeling, is more his speed. "It sounds fun, I'm sure we'll have a great time."

He matches Ichigo's shrug. He'd know better than Shiro.

He laughs, eyes straying down the length of Ichigo's neck for a second. "I know, but if you're gonna wear me out and force me to go on a run with you. I'm gonna have my fun." There's no way any of this actually happens. Even if Ichigo did have the energy for a run after however much sex, even if he did convince Shiro into letting him piggyback him, they'd probably be lucky to make it out the door. It would devolve into either tired hilarity and goofing off, or more sex, before they made it to the elevator.

Shiro watches that piece of meat fall from frozen chopsticks and snorts an amused sound as he drops an elbow to the table and props his chin in his hand. But almost immediately he straightens again, indignant. "Hey. First, I'd never need a billboard to get laid, that's gross to even think about. Second. How was I supposed to know you were out? You didn't act it. You were dating a girl, badly, but still. And no one who is attracted to men isn't attracted to me, but you were trying so hard to rebuff all my efforts. Sounds pretty closeted to me." A billboard! Insane. Disturbing. But he would make a pretty hot billboard. He shrugs, taking a bite. "Yeah. That's half'a my negotiation tactic to make some sales."

It occurs to him, as Ichigo talks, that he's never been on a plane either. He's never had a reason to be on one. Both options sound nice. Really, he'd agree to just about anywhere Ichigo suggested. But, he shakes his head, "I don't have a passport. I'm sure we could charter a private plane or something." Trying to get a passport seems like a recipe for disaster. As if the government is going to just hand a known crime lord a legal document. "Or a fake passport." He blinks and looks over again at that question. "Yeah, why?"

He feels a little bad about the way Ichigo drops his hand like touching Shiro burned his fingers: like he could feel Shiro's knee jerk hostility. "I thought you grew up in a hospital." But now that it's said out loud, it's pretty dumb of him to think Ichigo knows everything a doctor would. Whatever. Shiro's literally never willingly went to a hospital, he's not likely to start now.

His brow furrows at the clatter of chopsticks and the way Ichigo not-quite frantically digs out his phone. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm fine." Not that Ichigo's listening. Stubborn bastard. He's already made up his mind. Watching Ichigo's face while he makes that call is at least entertaining. When the phone is pulled away, he can make out the tone of that earful Ichigo's getting and snorts. "S'a good thing it's not a big deal. Damn. If this were an emergency I'd be in trouble."

He finally looks away, relaxes, huffs. “No. Why would I be glad about that? I could respect that. I just think he should stop halfassing it.” His eyes slide back to Shiro. “And for the record, I don’t think you like him more, so you can stop looking so smug.” 

Sounds like they might both have a good time. Neither of them have ever needed much prompting. And he’s not about to argue. Shiro deserves more fun in his life. And not the mean kind that comes with business. 

Ichigo had meant the billboard for announcing Shiro’s sexuality, but watching him get offended is honestly better. Until it comes back around. “Badly? What was I doing badly?” He flips his chopsticks around and pokes Shiro with the blunt ends. “You only couldn’t tell because I wasn’t drooling over your ass. I get how that’d be a new experience for you. But no one ever said I wasn’t attracted to you.” Except like hell was he giving Shiro that gun to point at his head. “You only wanted me because I wasn’t on my knees licking your boots.” Then Shiro shrugs and his eyes narrow. “It better not be.” Because if Ichigo finds out which clients, none of those people will be alive by the time Shiro gets back. 

He nods, sips his tea. “We’ll get you one. You have the money.” And there are people for that. Ichigo has three. “So long as it’s not the kind that comes with a stripper.” But Ichigo smirks some at the question, glancing back up to meet that look. “Snorkeling. You’ll hate it.” Actually, he thinks Shiro will like looking around places, even underwater. It’s the paddleboarding he’s going to hate. Maybe. Ichigo is looking forward to finding out. Shiro has a natural athleticism that pains him since he almost never uses it. 

“A clinic.” The correction is automatic. 

He hesitates. But it’s Shiro. “I wasn’t around much. And when I was, I didn’t like—“ His jaw works. It wasn’t his thing, watching people suffer. He’s used to it now. And he saw a lot of it while hunting his mom’s killer. The clinic was different. “I tried not to be in there.” 

He ignores the protest. Shiro would say he was fine even if he wasn’t.

“If this were an emergency, you’d be in the back of an ambulance.” Said quietly so as not to disturb Ishida’s rant and cause him to start all over. 

He shrugs, "Do you want other guys to be into me enough to fight you for me? That sounds crazy, y'know? Whatever he's doing, seems like he's being civil. That's normal. And for the record, smug is a good look on me, so no."

The way Ichigo seems so surprised cracks him up. "All of it, but especially the part where you were trying to be in a straight relationship." He frowns lightly at those chopsticks as they poke him, smacking them away half heartedly before he looks back up at Ichigo. He scoffs, "Exactly! Like I said; no one who's attracted to men doesn't drool over my ass. You were definitely attracted to me, I could tell. I don't waste my time on straight guys very often. You were attracted me, from inside the closet." At this point he's mostly just teasing to get a ride out of Ichigo, keeping himself entertained. He agrees with Ichigo's statement easily. "That, and you're hot. That fuckin' scowly thing you did every time you saw me? Like you wanted to strangle me in a murder way and also a kink way? Hot." Oh. There's that little jealous streak again. He grins. "Why? A little flirtatious distraction goes a long way sometimes." It's not his fault if someone is thinking too hard with their dick instead of working out the math they're negotiating.

He snorts a laugh at how casually Ichigo mentions his finances. "Good to know I'm still sittin' pretty after I hired my own kidnappers and you running my business." His brows go up, "Is that a real thing? Can I get one with a pole? Will you dance on it?" Of course his brain goes from strippers to Ichigo stripping. He's obsessed. Even if he did higher strippers, there's no way he'd find them as attractive as Ichigo.

Snorkeling. Huh. "Have you done that before?" He's genuinely curious. This all sounds a little far fetched; a tropical beach vacation with snorkeling. That's the kind of thing you see on TV, not the kind of thing he ever thought he'd experience. But he frowns. "Why would I hate it? Better yet, if you think I'm gonna hate it, why are we doing it?"

He rolls his eyes about being corrected. "How is a clinic different from a hospital?"

Ichigo could just kill his cop ex, Shiro has no doubt of it. In fact, he doesn't doubt that Ichigo wants to, with the jealousy he's seeing. But he wont, because Shiro said he didn't want the cop dead, and Ichigo's still holding to that even when Shiro insinuates he'd fuck him given the opportunity. It's wild. All that jealousy and murderous intent, tempered by the desire to not hurt Shiro. He doesn't deserve that kind of devotion. He shakes his head, and agrees. "No, I wasn't, but you'll make sure I am."

He snorts, wondering how Ichigo thinks he's going to have energy enough to carry Shiro while running after that much sex. "Ah, now that sounds like a much more fun version of running. I could get my mouth on your neck so easily from there." He finds it all too easy to imagine the slick slide of muscle between his legs, the panting breathes, heaving chest. It's guaranteed he'd end up with a boner poking against Ichigo's back, no matter how many rounds they'd already gone.

Shrugging a shoulder, he says casually. "I'm good at being a pain in the ass. I really always figured it was less that I caught you and more than I was devilishly attractive and you were closeted. And that your ego didn't like that I'd bested you."

Some of the weariness seems to drain from Ichigo when he opens his eyes. Shiro studies him, feeling a little like his heart is kicking against his sternum in a funny way every few beats. He nods to confirm. "Ok. Some place tropical." He finally breaks his study of Ichigo's all too handsome features and grabs his glass for a drink. "Never. Vacationing wasn't really something I ever got the opportunity to do." Now he could. He can afford to go wherever he wants, whenever, but the idea to just go lounge on a warm, sunny beach never even crossed his mind.

Staring at his plate, he picks out all his favorite bits while he forces himself to eat, because he likes food, he likes to eat, but his appetite is just not where it should be. "No, not really. I dunno. I was fine until it was in front of me. I'm not about to vomit, if that's what you're worried about." He takes another bite, chewing while fingers find his temple. There's a second where a week's worth of angry, agonized, ill conditioning makes him want to snap at the touch. With his teeth, like an animal. But it's like muscle memory from a fever dream, so he shoves it down and ignores it.

“Right. Better to let a killer have his way with you than have you stuck in a holding cell for a few hours. Fucking—“ He bites off the rest, tosses a bone down on his plate and sits back, scowling. “Anything could be happening to you as far as he knows. Better not risk you getting a slap on the wrist.” Ichigo wouldn’t have accepted those odds even back when Shiro was blackmailing him. 

Ichigo nods at those words, taking them with complete seriousness. He’s less sure about his ability than he used to be, but he means to pursue it entirely. He means it enough to give up whatever vendetta he thought he had because of his father. Enough to quit his work. Enough to step into his nightmare job role for a few weeks and risk his temper. 

Actually, he likes Shiro’s temper. The hotter, the better. 

An eye roll, even as one corner of his mouth kicks up. “You can get your mouth on my neck literally any time you want. But it’s a date.”

That theory throws him. A piece of meat slips clean off his chopsticks and he’s left staring as it rolls over the edge of the table. His mind scrambles tooth and nail to right itself. Shiro was always stupidly attractive. Infuriatingly so. That’s not news. “I wasn’t in the closet. I just wasn’t as loud as you. You’d rent a billboard if it got you laid.” As if Shiro ever needed one. Which has him chewing his next bite with a little more frustration. “Devilishly hot enough to make people act stupid.” And by people he means him. 

His thoughts immediately stray. The curve of Shiro’s spine. His hair gathered in one hand. A path marked with teeth and tongue all the way from tailbone to neck. Then easing hands around that throat, because what the hell else do you do with someone like that? 

Ichigo’s entire middle feels an odd combination of weak and tight just thinking about it. 

“Miyakojima is only a couple hours by plane. We wouldn’t even need to leave the country. Or Guam, if you’ve got a passport.” It’s nearly a day trip and all too easy to picture. Ankle deep in surf, ridiculous elaborate drinks, crabs skittering, the anonymity. Just another pale guy in sunglasses out with his boyfriend. All the money Shiro’s got—the access to penthouses and mansions, fast cars, power, anything he wants at his fingertips—but after everything, Ichigo’s not sure there’s anything more luxurious than being carefree, guard down, horizon stretching out of sight at dusk. But something else occurs to him. “Can you swim?”

He wasn’t worried about Shiro puking, but now he is. Ichigo hesitates. “A little.” It’s subtle, but Shiro tenses beneath his hand just enough for Ichigo to feel it. He drops his fingers immediately, remembering those first few days of withdrawal vividly. “I don’t know. That’s the point.” 

He’d asked Ishida exactly what withdrawal from heroin looked like. How dangerous it could get. What was normal. It was the only reason he’d known Shiro was going to be wrecked but not dying. Just wishing he was.

Unless he’d been mixing it with something else.

Which… 

Of course he had.

He mutters a curse and drops his chopsticks, digs around until he comes up with his personal phone, then dials Ishida. 

“Hey, I’m coming by—“ His brows snap into a more irritated, less worried scowl. “It’s not me. Would you listen before you start making dumb assumptions?” That earns him an immediate lecture, a tirade of all the dumb things Ichigo’s done in the past that absolutely no one could’ve assumed. 

His face sours and he pulls the phone away so he doesn’t actually have to listen, tuning in to only every fifth word or so. Gunshots, knife wounds, road rash. Ichigo glances at Shiro. “In case you can’t tell, he doesn’t approve of my job.” Ex job now. Maybe that will shut Ishida up. He brings the phone back to his mouth but not the ear piece. “I’m quitting. Not that you asked.” And that works. There’s instant silence. 

He snorts. Practically hears Ishida’s thoughts grinding while he processes. 

Finally there’s, “When will you be here?” 

“A half hour.”

“I’ll be out back.” 

He laughs, eyes straying down the length of Ichigo's neck for a second. "I know, but if you're gonna wear me out and force me to go on a run with you. I'm gonna have my fun." There's no way any of this actually happens. Even if Ichigo did have the energy for a run after however much sex, even if he did convince Shiro into letting him piggyback him, they'd probably be lucky to make it out the door. It would devolve into either tired hilarity and goofing off, or more sex, before they made it to the elevator.

Shiro watches that piece of meat fall from frozen chopsticks and snorts an amused sound as he drops an elbow to the table and props his chin in his hand. But almost immediately he straightens again, indignant. "Hey. First, I'd never need a billboard to get laid, that's gross to even think about. Second. How was I supposed to know you were out? You didn't act it. You were dating a girl, badly, but still. And no one who is attracted to men isn't attracted to me, but you were trying so hard to rebuff all my efforts. Sounds pretty closeted to me." A billboard! Insane. Disturbing. But he would make a pretty hot billboard. He shrugs, taking a bite. "Yeah. That's half'a my negotiation tactic to make some sales."

It occurs to him, as Ichigo talks, that he's never been on a plane either. He's never had a reason to be on one. Both options sound nice. Really, he'd agree to just about anywhere Ichigo suggested. But, he shakes his head, "I don't have a passport. I'm sure we could charter a private plane or something." Trying to get a passport seems like a recipe for disaster. As if the government is going to just hand a known crime lord a legal document. "Or a fake passport." He blinks and looks over again at that question. "Yeah, why?"

He feels a little bad about the way Ichigo drops his hand like touching Shiro burned his fingers: like he could feel Shiro's knee jerk hostility. "I thought you grew up in a hospital." But now that it's said out loud, it's pretty dumb of him to think Ichigo knows everything a doctor would. Whatever. Shiro's literally never willingly went to a hospital, he's not likely to start now.

His brow furrows at the clatter of chopsticks and the way Ichigo not-quite frantically digs out his phone. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm fine." Not that Ichigo's listening. Stubborn bastard. He's already made up his mind. Watching Ichigo's face while he makes that call is at least entertaining. When the phone is pulled away, he can make out the tone of that earful Ichigo's getting and snorts. "S'a good thing it's not a big deal. Damn. If this were an emergency I'd be in trouble."

Nothing is exactly the type of answer he expected and he laughs a little, amused anyway. But the revised answer has him looking over. Those are two very different answers. "A suit?" That's damn near the most dressed he could be, the exact opposite of naked. "Like with a tie and everything?" He motions, sort of plucking at one sleeve, "Cufflinks?" He's kind of intrigued. "What color suit?"

He shrugs, thinking a map is just as good as calling the police, but his interest in this really only extends so far as it being something Ichigo feels strongly about. He thinks it's vile, for sure, but he's not the vigilante type. He wouldn't be getting involved at all, not even just to think about it, if it weren't for Ichigo. So when Ichigo brings up the condition he may or may not come out of this engagement in, his attention snaps around and he pins Ichigo with a look that is both blank and not at all blank. "That's not an option. Do better."

Ichigo's right, but he rolls his eyes anyway. "Accepting it after I've asked my questions is still acceptance."

Ichigo's nervousness is so unexpected, Shiro practically itches to get his hands on that rap sheet and all the little notes that didn't make it into said record. It kind of reminds him of how they met; in a place Ichigo shouldn't have been, finding a person he wasn't supposed to be looking for. "Kind of a shame you didn't stay buddy buddy with 'em. It comes in handy." There's the hint of a grin in his voice about Ichigo finding his mom's killer, "I'm sure you did."

He laughs, and all in good fun calls Ichigo a, "Freak." even though he doesn't think Ichigo's a freak at all. He also doubts Ichigo's into him stalking him on his runs, or any of his day to day activities for that matter.

Aaaaand there it is. He rolls his eyes and levels a serious look at Ichigo. "Ok let's just pretend for a second I decided running was fun. Don't you think I'd actually, physically keel over and die if I tried to run with you right now? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a mess." Detox aside, he really fucked himself up with all the drugs. He doesn't trust his stamina without the adrenaline of a fight or some other threat to give him a boost. He arches a brow. "The bushes? I don't think I like twigs in all my most vulnerable places, so maybe the hood of a stranger's car or something instead. Or my car, since I'll be driving it while you run."

That makes it all the more horrifying. People are supposed to be afraid of him, dammit. He scowls, but there's no heat in it. "Don't they know who I am by now? Goddamn I was in the news and everything."

He hadn’t been thinking of a tie but now he is. His lids lower, eyes lingering at Shiro’s throat. “Yeah. Like with a tie and everything.” The tugging gesture sends a shiver work across his skin, prickling nerve endings to life with just the idea of it. He can’t even tell if Shiro is plucking those strings on purpose. He nids, licks his lips slow. Can’t think of a single color that wouldn’t look perfect on him. “Something dark.” He exhales a warm breath. “Alright you’re going to have to stop or we’re going back to the car.” And they’ll be very late. 

He flinches at that look. Can’t hold those eyes. So his own gaze coasts to scan their surroundings. “Not like the last time.” Probably. There’s always a chance. “People you rescue can get clingy. The last thing I need is someone taking me to a hospital.” Everything will be harder if he’s in bad shape. He sighs. “I can take someone to pull me out if I need it.” Shiro comes to mind immediately, but he’s so easily recognized. If anyone saw him, they’d likely know him right away. Maybe Ichigo could get him to stay in the shadows somewhere. 

He waves an assent. Fair enough. Shiro’s accepted. For the moment at least.

“I can’t stay buddy buddy with them when we were never friends in the first place. If I was nice they’d know right away I was full of shit.” But that does snag his attention. He kind of wonders if that means Shiro is staying buddy buddy with his cop, too. “Speaking of which, it wouldn’t hurt if you called yours to let him know you’re alive. He’s convinced I kidnapped you.” It’s annoying to both like and dislike this guy. He seems decent at what he does. Which is ichigo’s biggest problem with police and authority in general. 

He clicks his tongue. “Watch it. We both know you’ve done weirder shit than I have. Keep it up and I might call Grimmjow and get your background checked.”

Shiro gives him such a hard look, Ichigo can’t hold his scowl. He snorts. “You’re the one that wanted to tag along.” Ichigo isn’t opposed to any of those ideas though. “Sex is better after a workout. Or a run.” Or a fight. 

“Yup.” But they also spent time teasing Ichigo about having pictures of Shiro on his phone. That kind of takes some of the seriousness out of it. “If you didn’t want them to like you, you shouldn’t’ve played so nice. I think they’re rooting for you.” For a criminal. Damn, his family really is unusual. Maybe it’s not just him. Not that his family in the south isn’t already a bunch of criminals. 

His eyes go to Shiro. Ichigo opens his mouth then shuts it, considers that, and finally leans back to answer seriously. “I trust you. But if I’m not doing my job, how are you supposed to trust me? I’m not letting things go back to the way they were.” When Shiro comes face to face with his addiction or when he’s just feeling extra itchy, he should know Ichigo won’t slip too. 

A suit and tie sounds so constricting. He likes tight clothes, but the kind of fabric that allows him to move, not layers of fitted, stuffy, heavy cloth. But he knows he wouldn't have to wear it for long. If the look on his face is a good indicator, Ichigo would strip him from that suit before he had it buttoned up. "Dark, huh? Maybe... Burgundy? Navy?" Black is too obvious, and too easy to get ahold of. If he's wearing a suit, it's going to be fucking fancy. "With a white tie and gold cufflinks." Stop? Pff. This is fun, he's not going to stop. "Is that supposed to be a deterent? After we fuck in the car, we can come back and finish breakfast."

He doesn't like that Ichigo can't face him. It makes that 'not like last time' sound like bullshit. He arches a brow over a dry expression. "A hospital is exactly where they should take you if you're too messed up to stop them." He sighs heavily, hating this topic. He wants to tell Ichigo to forget the whole damn idea, forbid him from going, order him into staying. But he can't. Ichigo's not one of his employees or pawns or even buisiness partners, he's not a cop on his payroll or a politician attending his parties. He can't tell Ichigo what to do, or not do. "Yeah? Who? Better be someone good."

He snorts. Fair enough. He's not sure he's ever seen Ichigo be nice to someone right away that wasn't his family. "Fine, leave the smooth talkin' to cops to me." He side eyes Ichigo. Pretty rich to suggest that when Ichigo hasn't let him get in touch with anyone. Hell, he only just now handed over his phone and only when Ichigo's around, he's sure. He scoffs. "You kinda did. Maybe I will call him. Maybe he'll bust me outta there."

For a second, that honestly does make him pause. He feels an immediate flood of embarrassment of all the shit he's done that Grimmjow might be able to tell Ichigo. He plays it off like he's not worried, waving a dismissive motion, "Pff. He was in prison for half'a the time."

"I think you're hearing whatever you wanna hear now. I did not say I wanted to tag along. I said I'd find whatever cute guy you run past. I didn't say I'd run with you to do that." And another thing! "Sex is better without the run. More energy, more sex."

He makes a face; a mix of surprise and confusion. "Ok. Right. Of course they're gonna be as weird as you. I should have expected that." The idea of sweet Yuzu rooting for a seedy criminal is honestly kind of funny. "I didn't really care if they liked me. I like you and they're important to you." He shrugs. "I'm glad they like me though. I like them too."

Why is he not expecting that response? It takes him by surprise and renders him speechless. He looks away, then down at the menu he practically knows by heart. He's not actually reading it while he nods. Ichigo's words sound... permanent. Out of all the assurances that Ichigo has given him that he's sticking around, that he wont leave again, this is what sounds the most real, the most true, to Shiro. His fingers play at the corner of the menu while he finally looks back up and over. "Ok-" He nods again.

Good thing they're out of the car and Ichigo isn’t driving, because he would’ve hit the brakes hard enough to put them through the windshield.

His brain stalls for half a second. Then every instinct he has starts screaming that Shiro’s cop needs to go. Into a shallow grave. His teeth snap together. His jaw works.

“Maybe he’d try.”

He’d also run straight into Ichigo. It takes effort not to look as murderous as he suddenly feels. “Sure, you two’ll have lots to talk about when you end up stuck in there together.” It’s not like Ichigo could just let the guy leave to call for backup. And Shiro’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want him hurt.

Just the idea makes Ichigo feel sick. Though maybe Shiro doesn’t actually want the guy alive if he’s planning to wedge his cop between Ichigo and his goal.

His eyes cut toward Shiro at that sound. “We’re talking about you. We both know half would be plenty.” Only, as much as Ichigo doesn’t want Shiro seeing that file, there’s probably nothing he wouldn’t admit if Shiro asked. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know. Just don’t read it. They made it sound worse than it was.” He found that out from his old man’s reaction.

His lip quirks. “Seems like something we should test.” Ichigo’s asked, pleaded, negotiated, and generally made a nuisance of himself every way he can think of. None of it has moved Shiro even slightly. Not that Ichigo is a master negotiator, but it’s a decent bet Shiro has no intention of joining his runs.

“I don’t know, I hated you being a criminal when we met.” It’s one of the first things he found out about Shiro—also he’s faster and a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. Now if Shiro beat him up he’d probably get hard over it. And… Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the weird comment.

Shiro goes quiet and Ichigo wants to touch him. Wants to bring up marriage again. But it'd it’s hard to say when he knows he's failed Shiro's expectations constantly.

A phone goes off while they wait and he's tired enough, that for a second, he can’t remember which ringtone is which phone. He starts checking his clothes before realizing it's not even one of his. It's coming from the kitchen. He gives up appearances to drop his head back onto the booth. “How do you feel about beaches and daiquiris far, far away?” He’d settle for getting Shiro into the hot tub on the penthouse balcony.

But really, the reason he should is pretty obvious. He's a cop. And Ichigo would be pretty pissed if Shiro's cop did cop things about it. He snorts though. "You'd have to higher more security." He doubts that would actually be an issue for Ichigo. He really seems to know people who know people. His brow arches, "Talking, huh? Wouldn't need that vibrator if you locked us both up together." He wants to be joking, because he truly is loyal to Ichigo, but he's only kind of joking. His loyalty is a little different than how most would define it. He's very emotionally loyal, probably less physically if in the right situation and with the right person. "I can call him and tell him to lay off."

That's.... absolutely true. "Whatever. I already told you the worst of it anyway." In his opinion, he did, anyway, but the sheer quantity of shit Grimmjow could probably tell Ichigo... "How 'bout you don't ask Grimmjow anything and I wont look at your record? A truce."

He rolls his eyes, having absolutely zero intention of going on a run with anyone, unless it's running for his life. Even then, he's more likely to fight to the death than run. "Sure, we can test it. But we're starting with sex without the run first, and we might have to go a few rounds just to really get a sense of it."

He snorts a laugh. "I think you just hated me in general. You weren't exactly an upstanding citizen yourself." They really did meet through the weirdest, most coincidental circumstances.

Ichigo looks tired. He studies his profile while his head is dropped back. Shiro wants to drag him to bed and wrap a blanket around him. Sex is great, but a nap sounds nice too. They could sleep the whole day away and maybe through the night too. His brows go up a bit, surprised at how much like running away together and leaving their lives behind that sounds. "Mmm." It's not a disagreeable sound. "Sounds nice. I've never been to a proper, sandy beach."

All the security he could find wouldn’t help once the police were involved. Ichigo could sit on top of that building and pick those cops off one by one until they got tired of it and sniped him from a helicopter. He drags a hand through his hair. He’s not pissy about Shiro hiding behind this guy, except he really, really is. “Convenient he’s ready to step in now. He was around forever and didn’t do shit about you fast-tracking yourself into a grave.” Maybe the guy didn’t like it, but maybe it made Shiro easier to deal with. These mood swings are hell. But his jaw tightens. “For that matter, if he’s so sure you’re in trouble, why isn’t he doing anything now?”

The comment about not needing that vibrator doesn’t make him flinch, exactly. But out of all the threats Shiro could make and all people Shiro could fuck around with, this one bothers Ichigo the most. He doesn’t know why he gave Shiro such a large opening to call his bluff other than he must be a fucking masochist. “I told you, I’m not letting things go back to the way they were.” He’ll do whatever it takes. Even that. If he has to. Even if it makes him feel like he’s breathing knives just thinking about it. “You weren’t happy.”

Though, in the end, Shiro seems to relent. “Alright.” Except in the back of his brain, there’s the constant reminder he could just drop the guy off a bridge and be finished with it forever.

“Agreed.” Answered before Shiro has the words all the way out.

A grin tugs at one corner of his mouth and he snorts before aiming it at Shiro. “Good idea. Once you’re worn out, I’ll put you on my back.” Actually, that sounds like a great workout to him and he never complains about getting Shiro’s legs around him.

“You were the only person that’s ever caught me. It was a real pain in the ass.” An understatement really. Shiro had him and he fucking knew it. Getting rid of him was the only option left. Ichigo’s glad that didn’t work out though.

“Really?” He blinks his eyes back open and looks over, brightening. “Then we’ll go. Someplace tropical. When?” His head tilts. “You’ve seriously never built a sandcastle?”

Ichigo is halfway through his own plate when Shiro’s words register. He looks over the food, brow knitting. “Yeah.” But that isn’t like Shiro. “Still feeling sick?”

Without thinking, he reaches over and presses the backs of his fingers against Shiro’s temple, checking for the clammy heat that plagued the first few days.

His frown deepens.

Ichigo could just kill his cop ex, Shiro has no doubt of it. In fact, he doesn't doubt that Ichigo wants to, with the jealousy he's seeing. But he wont, because Shiro said he didn't want the cop dead, and Ichigo's still holding to that even when Shiro insinuates he'd fuck him given the opportunity. It's wild. All that jealousy and murderous intent, tempered by the desire to not hurt Shiro. He doesn't deserve that kind of devotion. He shakes his head, and agrees. "No, I wasn't, but you'll make sure I am."

He snorts, wondering how Ichigo thinks he's going to have energy enough to carry Shiro while running after that much sex. "Ah, now that sounds like a much more fun version of running. I could get my mouth on your neck so easily from there." He finds it all too easy to imagine the slick slide of muscle between his legs, the panting breathes, heaving chest. It's guaranteed he'd end up with a boner poking against Ichigo's back, no matter how many rounds they'd already gone.

Shrugging a shoulder, he says casually. "I'm good at being a pain in the ass. I really always figured it was less that I caught you and more than I was devilishly attractive and you were closeted. And that your ego didn't like that I'd bested you."

Some of the weariness seems to drain from Ichigo when he opens his eyes. Shiro studies him, feeling a little like his heart is kicking against his sternum in a funny way every few beats. He nods to confirm. "Ok. Some place tropical." He finally breaks his study of Ichigo's all too handsome features and grabs his glass for a drink. "Never. Vacationing wasn't really something I ever got the opportunity to do." Now he could. He can afford to go wherever he wants, whenever, but the idea to just go lounge on a warm, sunny beach never even crossed his mind.

Staring at his plate, he picks out all his favorite bits while he forces himself to eat, because he likes food, he likes to eat, but his appetite is just not where it should be. "No, not really. I dunno. I was fine until it was in front of me. I'm not about to vomit, if that's what you're worried about." He takes another bite, chewing while fingers find his temple. There's a second where a week's worth of angry, agonized, ill conditioning makes him want to snap at the touch. With his teeth, like an animal. But it's like muscle memory from a fever dream, so he shoves it down and ignores it.

Nothing is exactly the type of answer he expected and he laughs a little, amused anyway. But the revised answer has him looking over. Those are two very different answers. "A suit?" That's damn near the most dressed he could be, the exact opposite of naked. "Like with a tie and everything?" He motions, sort of plucking at one sleeve, "Cufflinks?" He's kind of intrigued. "What color suit?"

He shrugs, thinking a map is just as good as calling the police, but his interest in this really only extends so far as it being something Ichigo feels strongly about. He thinks it's vile, for sure, but he's not the vigilante type. He wouldn't be getting involved at all, not even just to think about it, if it weren't for Ichigo. So when Ichigo brings up the condition he may or may not come out of this engagement in, his attention snaps around and he pins Ichigo with a look that is both blank and not at all blank. "That's not an option. Do better."

Ichigo's right, but he rolls his eyes anyway. "Accepting it after I've asked my questions is still acceptance."

Ichigo's nervousness is so unexpected, Shiro practically itches to get his hands on that rap sheet and all the little notes that didn't make it into said record. It kind of reminds him of how they met; in a place Ichigo shouldn't have been, finding a person he wasn't supposed to be looking for. "Kind of a shame you didn't stay buddy buddy with 'em. It comes in handy." There's the hint of a grin in his voice about Ichigo finding his mom's killer, "I'm sure you did."

He laughs, and all in good fun calls Ichigo a, "Freak." even though he doesn't think Ichigo's a freak at all. He also doubts Ichigo's into him stalking him on his runs, or any of his day to day activities for that matter.

Aaaaand there it is. He rolls his eyes and levels a serious look at Ichigo. "Ok let's just pretend for a second I decided running was fun. Don't you think I'd actually, physically keel over and die if I tried to run with you right now? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a mess." Detox aside, he really fucked himself up with all the drugs. He doesn't trust his stamina without the adrenaline of a fight or some other threat to give him a boost. He arches a brow. "The bushes? I don't think I like twigs in all my most vulnerable places, so maybe the hood of a stranger's car or something instead. Or my car, since I'll be driving it while you run."

That makes it all the more horrifying. People are supposed to be afraid of him, dammit. He scowls, but there's no heat in it. "Don't they know who I am by now? Goddamn I was in the news and everything."

He hadn’t been thinking of a tie but now he is. His lids lower, eyes lingering at Shiro’s throat. “Yeah. Like with a tie and everything.” The tugging gesture sends a shiver work across his skin, prickling nerve endings to life with just the idea of it. He can’t even tell if Shiro is plucking those strings on purpose. He nids, licks his lips slow. Can’t think of a single color that wouldn’t look perfect on him. “Something dark.” He exhales a warm breath. “Alright you’re going to have to stop or we’re going back to the car.” And they’ll be very late. 

He flinches at that look. Can’t hold those eyes. So his own gaze coasts to scan their surroundings. “Not like the last time.” Probably. There’s always a chance. “People you rescue can get clingy. The last thing I need is someone taking me to a hospital.” Everything will be harder if he’s in bad shape. He sighs. “I can take someone to pull me out if I need it.” Shiro comes to mind immediately, but he’s so easily recognized. If anyone saw him, they’d likely know him right away. Maybe Ichigo could get him to stay in the shadows somewhere. 

He waves an assent. Fair enough. Shiro’s accepted. For the moment at least.

“I can’t stay buddy buddy with them when we were never friends in the first place. If I was nice they’d know right away I was full of shit.” But that does snag his attention. He kind of wonders if that means Shiro is staying buddy buddy with his cop, too. “Speaking of which, it wouldn’t hurt if you called yours to let him know you’re alive. He’s convinced I kidnapped you.” It’s annoying to both like and dislike this guy. He seems decent at what he does. Which is ichigo’s biggest problem with police and authority in general. 

He clicks his tongue. “Watch it. We both know you’ve done weirder shit than I have. Keep it up and I might call Grimmjow and get your background checked.”

Shiro gives him such a hard look, Ichigo can’t hold his scowl. He snorts. “You’re the one that wanted to tag along.” Ichigo isn’t opposed to any of those ideas though. “Sex is better after a workout. Or a run.” Or a fight. 

“Yup.” But they also spent time teasing Ichigo about having pictures of Shiro on his phone. That kind of takes some of the seriousness out of it. “If you didn’t want them to like you, you shouldn’t’ve played so nice. I think they’re rooting for you.” For a criminal. Damn, his family really is unusual. Maybe it’s not just him. Not that his family in the south isn’t already a bunch of criminals. 

His eyes go to Shiro. Ichigo opens his mouth then shuts it, considers that, and finally leans back to answer seriously. “I trust you. But if I’m not doing my job, how are you supposed to trust me? I’m not letting things go back to the way they were.” When Shiro comes face to face with his addiction or when he’s just feeling extra itchy, he should know Ichigo won’t slip too. 

A suit and tie sounds so constricting. He likes tight clothes, but the kind of fabric that allows him to move, not layers of fitted, stuffy, heavy cloth. But he knows he wouldn't have to wear it for long. If the look on his face is a good indicator, Ichigo would strip him from that suit before he had it buttoned up. "Dark, huh? Maybe... Burgundy? Navy?" Black is too obvious, and too easy to get ahold of. If he's wearing a suit, it's going to be fucking fancy. "With a white tie and gold cufflinks." Stop? Pff. This is fun, he's not going to stop. "Is that supposed to be a deterent? After we fuck in the car, we can come back and finish breakfast."

He doesn't like that Ichigo can't face him. It makes that 'not like last time' sound like bullshit. He arches a brow over a dry expression. "A hospital is exactly where they should take you if you're too messed up to stop them." He sighs heavily, hating this topic. He wants to tell Ichigo to forget the whole damn idea, forbid him from going, order him into staying. But he can't. Ichigo's not one of his employees or pawns or even buisiness partners, he's not a cop on his payroll or a politician attending his parties. He can't tell Ichigo what to do, or not do. "Yeah? Who? Better be someone good."

He snorts. Fair enough. He's not sure he's ever seen Ichigo be nice to someone right away that wasn't his family. "Fine, leave the smooth talkin' to cops to me." He side eyes Ichigo. Pretty rich to suggest that when Ichigo hasn't let him get in touch with anyone. Hell, he only just now handed over his phone and only when Ichigo's around, he's sure. He scoffs. "You kinda did. Maybe I will call him. Maybe he'll bust me outta there."

For a second, that honestly does make him pause. He feels an immediate flood of embarrassment of all the shit he's done that Grimmjow might be able to tell Ichigo. He plays it off like he's not worried, waving a dismissive motion, "Pff. He was in prison for half'a the time."

"I think you're hearing whatever you wanna hear now. I did not say I wanted to tag along. I said I'd find whatever cute guy you run past. I didn't say I'd run with you to do that." And another thing! "Sex is better without the run. More energy, more sex."

He makes a face; a mix of surprise and confusion. "Ok. Right. Of course they're gonna be as weird as you. I should have expected that." The idea of sweet Yuzu rooting for a seedy criminal is honestly kind of funny. "I didn't really care if they liked me. I like you and they're important to you." He shrugs. "I'm glad they like me though. I like them too."

Why is he not expecting that response? It takes him by surprise and renders him speechless. He looks away, then down at the menu he practically knows by heart. He's not actually reading it while he nods. Ichigo's words sound... permanent. Out of all the assurances that Ichigo has given him that he's sticking around, that he wont leave again, this is what sounds the most real, the most true, to Shiro. His fingers play at the corner of the menu while he finally looks back up and over. "Ok-" He nods again.

Good thing they're out of the car and Ichigo isn’t driving, because he would’ve hit the brakes hard enough to put them through the windshield.

His brain stalls for half a second. Then every instinct he has starts screaming that Shiro’s cop needs to go. Into a shallow grave. His teeth snap together. His jaw works.

“Maybe he’d try.”

He’d also run straight into Ichigo. It takes effort not to look as murderous as he suddenly feels. “Sure, you two’ll have lots to talk about when you end up stuck in there together.” It’s not like Ichigo could just let the guy leave to call for backup. And Shiro’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want him hurt.

Just the idea makes Ichigo feel sick. Though maybe Shiro doesn’t actually want the guy alive if he’s planning to wedge his cop between Ichigo and his goal.

His eyes cut toward Shiro at that sound. “We’re talking about you. We both know half would be plenty.” Only, as much as Ichigo doesn’t want Shiro seeing that file, there’s probably nothing he wouldn’t admit if Shiro asked. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know. Just don’t read it. They made it sound worse than it was.” He found that out from his old man’s reaction.

His lip quirks. “Seems like something we should test.” Ichigo’s asked, pleaded, negotiated, and generally made a nuisance of himself every way he can think of. None of it has moved Shiro even slightly. Not that Ichigo is a master negotiator, but it’s a decent bet Shiro has no intention of joining his runs.

“I don’t know, I hated you being a criminal when we met.” It’s one of the first things he found out about Shiro—also he’s faster and a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. Now if Shiro beat him up he’d probably get hard over it. And… Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the weird comment.

Shiro goes quiet and Ichigo wants to touch him. Wants to bring up marriage again. But it'd it’s hard to say when he knows he's failed Shiro's expectations constantly.

A phone goes off while they wait and he's tired enough, that for a second, he can’t remember which ringtone is which phone. He starts checking his clothes before realizing it's not even one of his. It's coming from the kitchen. He gives up appearances to drop his head back onto the booth. “How do you feel about beaches and daiquiris far, far away?” He’d settle for getting Shiro into the hot tub on the penthouse balcony.

But really, the reason he should is pretty obvious. He's a cop. And Ichigo would be pretty pissed if Shiro's cop did cop things about it. He snorts though. "You'd have to higher more security." He doubts that would actually be an issue for Ichigo. He really seems to know people who know people. His brow arches, "Talking, huh? Wouldn't need that vibrator if you locked us both up together." He wants to be joking, because he truly is loyal to Ichigo, but he's only kind of joking. His loyalty is a little different than how most would define it. He's very emotionally loyal, probably less physically if in the right situation and with the right person. "I can call him and tell him to lay off."

That's.... absolutely true. "Whatever. I already told you the worst of it anyway." In his opinion, he did, anyway, but the sheer quantity of shit Grimmjow could probably tell Ichigo... "How 'bout you don't ask Grimmjow anything and I wont look at your record? A truce."

He rolls his eyes, having absolutely zero intention of going on a run with anyone, unless it's running for his life. Even then, he's more likely to fight to the death than run. "Sure, we can test it. But we're starting with sex without the run first, and we might have to go a few rounds just to really get a sense of it."

He snorts a laugh. "I think you just hated me in general. You weren't exactly an upstanding citizen yourself." They really did meet through the weirdest, most coincidental circumstances.

Ichigo looks tired. He studies his profile while his head is dropped back. Shiro wants to drag him to bed and wrap a blanket around him. Sex is great, but a nap sounds nice too. They could sleep the whole day away and maybe through the night too. His brows go up a bit, surprised at how much like running away together and leaving their lives behind that sounds. "Mmm." It's not a disagreeable sound. "Sounds nice. I've never been to a proper, sandy beach."

Nothing is exactly the type of answer he expected and he laughs a little, amused anyway. But the revised answer has him looking over. Those are two very different answers. "A suit?" That's damn near the most dressed he could be, the exact opposite of naked. "Like with a tie and everything?" He motions, sort of plucking at one sleeve, "Cufflinks?" He's kind of intrigued. "What color suit?"

He shrugs, thinking a map is just as good as calling the police, but his interest in this really only extends so far as it being something Ichigo feels strongly about. He thinks it's vile, for sure, but he's not the vigilante type. He wouldn't be getting involved at all, not even just to think about it, if it weren't for Ichigo. So when Ichigo brings up the condition he may or may not come out of this engagement in, his attention snaps around and he pins Ichigo with a look that is both blank and not at all blank. "That's not an option. Do better."

Ichigo's right, but he rolls his eyes anyway. "Accepting it after I've asked my questions is still acceptance."

Ichigo's nervousness is so unexpected, Shiro practically itches to get his hands on that rap sheet and all the little notes that didn't make it into said record. It kind of reminds him of how they met; in a place Ichigo shouldn't have been, finding a person he wasn't supposed to be looking for. "Kind of a shame you didn't stay buddy buddy with 'em. It comes in handy." There's the hint of a grin in his voice about Ichigo finding his mom's killer, "I'm sure you did."

He laughs, and all in good fun calls Ichigo a, "Freak." even though he doesn't think Ichigo's a freak at all. He also doubts Ichigo's into him stalking him on his runs, or any of his day to day activities for that matter.

Aaaaand there it is. He rolls his eyes and levels a serious look at Ichigo. "Ok let's just pretend for a second I decided running was fun. Don't you think I'd actually, physically keel over and die if I tried to run with you right now? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a mess." Detox aside, he really fucked himself up with all the drugs. He doesn't trust his stamina without the adrenaline of a fight or some other threat to give him a boost. He arches a brow. "The bushes? I don't think I like twigs in all my most vulnerable places, so maybe the hood of a stranger's car or something instead. Or my car, since I'll be driving it while you run."

That makes it all the more horrifying. People are supposed to be afraid of him, dammit. He scowls, but there's no heat in it. "Don't they know who I am by now? Goddamn I was in the news and everything."

He hadn’t been thinking of a tie but now he is. His lids lower, eyes lingering at Shiro’s throat. “Yeah. Like with a tie and everything.” The tugging gesture sends a shiver work across his skin, prickling nerve endings to life with just the idea of it. He can’t even tell if Shiro is plucking those strings on purpose. He nids, licks his lips slow. Can’t think of a single color that wouldn’t look perfect on him. “Something dark.” He exhales a warm breath. “Alright you’re going to have to stop or we’re going back to the car.” And they’ll be very late. 

He flinches at that look. Can’t hold those eyes. So his own gaze coasts to scan their surroundings. “Not like the last time.” Probably. There’s always a chance. “People you rescue can get clingy. The last thing I need is someone taking me to a hospital.” Everything will be harder if he’s in bad shape. He sighs. “I can take someone to pull me out if I need it.” Shiro comes to mind immediately, but he’s so easily recognized. If anyone saw him, they’d likely know him right away. Maybe Ichigo could get him to stay in the shadows somewhere. 

He waves an assent. Fair enough. Shiro’s accepted. For the moment at least.

“I can’t stay buddy buddy with them when we were never friends in the first place. If I was nice they’d know right away I was full of shit.” But that does snag his attention. He kind of wonders if that means Shiro is staying buddy buddy with his cop, too. “Speaking of which, it wouldn’t hurt if you called yours to let him know you’re alive. He’s convinced I kidnapped you.” It’s annoying to both like and dislike this guy. He seems decent at what he does. Which is ichigo’s biggest problem with police and authority in general. 

He clicks his tongue. “Watch it. We both know you’ve done weirder shit than I have. Keep it up and I might call Grimmjow and get your background checked.”

Shiro gives him such a hard look, Ichigo can’t hold his scowl. He snorts. “You’re the one that wanted to tag along.” Ichigo isn’t opposed to any of those ideas though. “Sex is better after a workout. Or a run.” Or a fight. 

“Yup.” But they also spent time teasing Ichigo about having pictures of Shiro on his phone. That kind of takes some of the seriousness out of it. “If you didn’t want them to like you, you shouldn’t’ve played so nice. I think they’re rooting for you.” For a criminal. Damn, his family really is unusual. Maybe it’s not just him. Not that his family in the south isn’t already a bunch of criminals. 

His eyes go to Shiro. Ichigo opens his mouth then shuts it, considers that, and finally leans back to answer seriously. “I trust you. But if I’m not doing my job, how are you supposed to trust me? I’m not letting things go back to the way they were.” When Shiro comes face to face with his addiction or when he’s just feeling extra itchy, he should know Ichigo won’t slip too. 

A suit and tie sounds so constricting. He likes tight clothes, but the kind of fabric that allows him to move, not layers of fitted, stuffy, heavy cloth. But he knows he wouldn't have to wear it for long. If the look on his face is a good indicator, Ichigo would strip him from that suit before he had it buttoned up. "Dark, huh? Maybe... Burgundy? Navy?" Black is too obvious, and too easy to get ahold of. If he's wearing a suit, it's going to be fucking fancy. "With a white tie and gold cufflinks." Stop? Pff. This is fun, he's not going to stop. "Is that supposed to be a deterent? After we fuck in the car, we can come back and finish breakfast."

He doesn't like that Ichigo can't face him. It makes that 'not like last time' sound like bullshit. He arches a brow over a dry expression. "A hospital is exactly where they should take you if you're too messed up to stop them." He sighs heavily, hating this topic. He wants to tell Ichigo to forget the whole damn idea, forbid him from going, order him into staying. But he can't. Ichigo's not one of his employees or pawns or even buisiness partners, he's not a cop on his payroll or a politician attending his parties. He can't tell Ichigo what to do, or not do. "Yeah? Who? Better be someone good."

He snorts. Fair enough. He's not sure he's ever seen Ichigo be nice to someone right away that wasn't his family. "Fine, leave the smooth talkin' to cops to me." He side eyes Ichigo. Pretty rich to suggest that when Ichigo hasn't let him get in touch with anyone. Hell, he only just now handed over his phone and only when Ichigo's around, he's sure. He scoffs. "You kinda did. Maybe I will call him. Maybe he'll bust me outta there."

For a second, that honestly does make him pause. He feels an immediate flood of embarrassment of all the shit he's done that Grimmjow might be able to tell Ichigo. He plays it off like he's not worried, waving a dismissive motion, "Pff. He was in prison for half'a the time."

"I think you're hearing whatever you wanna hear now. I did not say I wanted to tag along. I said I'd find whatever cute guy you run past. I didn't say I'd run with you to do that." And another thing! "Sex is better without the run. More energy, more sex."

He makes a face; a mix of surprise and confusion. "Ok. Right. Of course they're gonna be as weird as you. I should have expected that." The idea of sweet Yuzu rooting for a seedy criminal is honestly kind of funny. "I didn't really care if they liked me. I like you and they're important to you." He shrugs. "I'm glad they like me though. I like them too."

Why is he not expecting that response? It takes him by surprise and renders him speechless. He looks away, then down at the menu he practically knows by heart. He's not actually reading it while he nods. Ichigo's words sound... permanent. Out of all the assurances that Ichigo has given him that he's sticking around, that he wont leave again, this is what sounds the most real, the most true, to Shiro. His fingers play at the corner of the menu while he finally looks back up and over. "Ok-" He nods again.