He's never liked kissing someone half as much as he likes kissing Ichigo. Kissing always felt too intimate and he was never an intimate person. It just never really did it for him, but everything with Ichigo does something for him.

He feels the fingers at his hips scrape against his jeans and can't help the way the corners of his mouth lift in a half grin against Ichigo's mouth. He swipes the tip of his tongue against Ichigo's bottom lip mid kiss, imaging he can taste that shiver. He loves the way Ichigo comes undone, unravels at the seams, when he gives in and admits, not verbally but no more subtly, what he wants.

Ichigo huffs when Shiro answers, having trouble staying still under those teeth and finally pushing his hands up under Shiro’s shirt to get at bare skin. No, he didn’t say it. He acts like it though. Ichigo doesn’t even dislike it. He just feels like he should resist how well they fit together. But he’s also tired of doing everything he should. Especially in moments like this when his restraint is stretched to the point of snapping.

He pulls a deep breath in through his nose when Ichigo's hands find skin under his shirt. That huff his words get reminds him of what a contrary little shit Ichigo can be. He always liked that feistiness, even when it was a pain in the ass to deal with.

Ichigo shifts and for half a second, Shiro wonders if he's about to come to his senses and put a stop to this before it goes any further. It would be the smart thing to do, which makes him realize he should put a stop to it. But he isn't going to, he already knows he wont, probably can't.

He's never liked kissing someone half as much as he likes kissing Ichigo. Kissing always felt too intimate and he was never an intimate person. It just never really did it for him, but everything with Ichigo does something for him.

He feels the fingers at his hips scrape against his jeans and can't help the way the corners of his mouth lift in a half grin against Ichigo's mouth. He swipes the tip of his tongue against Ichigo's bottom lip mid kiss, imaging he can taste that shiver. He loves the way Ichigo comes undone, unravels at the seams, when he gives in and admits, not verbally but no more subtly, what he wants.

"Ok. We'll get food." He sort of frowns about that first comment though, really not sure what that's supposed to mean. He doesn't care enough to ask, though. "No, I just-" Maybe this just shows how unused to having regular friends he is. He shakes his head. "Whatever. You're weird too." A grill near a school campus doesn't sound impressive, but considering Shiro's go to food most days is various dive bars, he doesn't really have much to say. And maybe a grill is better anyway, because anything too nice is probably weird for friends. "Sounds good."

He swallows, eyeing skin and muscle and the way Ichigo breathes. That skin feels smooth and warm against his hand, the muscle underneath firm. Ichigo has always been everything he wanted and he hates that. He hates how much he wants every part of him, every aspect of him. He wants to hate Ichigo, especially in moments like this, where they're so close but not close enough. But he can't do that no matter how hard he tries.

The small space feels close and still and it’s impossible not to focus on every little gesture. Ichigo could lean forward, close the distance, and take Shiro’s mouth the way he’s been aching to. He craves that contact. But that comment about him taking advantage the night he showed up keeps surfacing like an ugly splinter in his brain. It has him twisted with uncertainty. He’s not even sure Shiro meant it. He likely just wanted to hack away at Ichigo’s moral high ground and remind Ichigo that he rolls around in the mud like everyone else. But now, Ichigo can’t stop wondering if he was hurting Shiro on purpose on some subconscious level. He sure as hell was being selfish. 

Ichigo never gave himself enough credit for how attractive he is. "You definitely do." Ichigo looks so flustered and like he's trying not to be into this. It makes Shiro almost feel bad for enjoying it. Almost. He smirks and huffs a laugh under his breath when Ichigo finally settles on saying Shiro's sure it comes off. Of course he's sure it comes off. Before he can come up with something witty to say, though, it does come off. He laughs again, "No clue, but I'm gonna find out and tip them generously." He leans back just enough to eye the way it's basically just draped against Ichigo at this point. "I honestly think it looks better this way." It's definitely one of those pieces that looks best on the floor in a heap.

Ichigo exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to where Shiro’s fingers linger, far too confident and far too familiar as they nudge the outfit over the curve of a shoulder and into the floor. The slip of fingertips and fabric has tingles zipping along Ichigo’s spine to curl around his tailbone. “Hanging on by a thread? Why am I not surprised? That’s most of your closet,” he mutters, like that’ll distract either of them from the fact that he didn’t move even a fraction to keep it from happening. Instead his pulse thumps under his skin as Shiro’s fingers ghost higher.

Not bothering to take his attention off Ichigo and all that skin on display, he shrugs a nonchalant motion. "Yet you like all of my closet, so I don't thing you get to judge." Though, he thinks that bit of snark is probably just second nature more than real complaint.

He's never liked kissing someone half as much as he likes kissing Ichigo. Kissing always felt too intimate and he was never an intimate person. It just never really did it for him, but everything with Ichigo does something for him.

He feels the fingers at his hips scrape against his jeans and can't help the way the corners of his mouth lift in a half grin against Ichigo's mouth. He swipes the tip of his tongue against Ichigo's bottom lip mid kiss, imaging he can taste that shiver. He loves the way Ichigo comes undone, unravels at the seams, when he gives in and admits, not verbally but no more subtly, what he wants.

"Ok. We'll get food." He sort of frowns about that first comment though, really not sure what that's supposed to mean. He doesn't care enough to ask, though. "No, I just-" Maybe this just shows how unused to having regular friends he is. He shakes his head. "Whatever. You're weird too." A grill near a school campus doesn't sound impressive, but considering Shiro's go to food most days is various dive bars, he doesn't really have much to say. And maybe a grill is better anyway, because anything too nice is probably weird for friends. "Sounds good."

He swallows, eyeing skin and muscle and the way Ichigo breathes. That skin feels smooth and warm against his hand, the muscle underneath firm. Ichigo has always been everything he wanted and he hates that. He hates how much he wants every part of him, every aspect of him. He wants to hate Ichigo, especially in moments like this, where they're so close but not close enough. But he can't do that no matter how hard he tries.

The small space feels close and still and it’s impossible not to focus on every little gesture. Ichigo could lean forward, close the distance, and take Shiro’s mouth the way he’s been aching to. He craves that contact. But that comment about him taking advantage the night he showed up keeps surfacing like an ugly splinter in his brain. It has him twisted with uncertainty. He’s not even sure Shiro meant it. He likely just wanted to hack away at Ichigo’s moral high ground and remind Ichigo that he rolls around in the mud like everyone else. But now, Ichigo can’t stop wondering if he was hurting Shiro on purpose on some subconscious level. He sure as hell was being selfish. 

Ichigo never gave himself enough credit for how attractive he is. "You definitely do." Ichigo looks so flustered and like he's trying not to be into this. It makes Shiro almost feel bad for enjoying it. Almost. He smirks and huffs a laugh under his breath when Ichigo finally settles on saying Shiro's sure it comes off. Of course he's sure it comes off. Before he can come up with something witty to say, though, it does come off. He laughs again, "No clue, but I'm gonna find out and tip them generously." He leans back just enough to eye the way it's basically just draped against Ichigo at this point. "I honestly think it looks better this way." It's definitely one of those pieces that looks best on the floor in a heap.

Ichigo exhales sharply, his gaze dropping to where Shiro’s fingers linger, far too confident and far too familiar as they nudge the outfit over the curve of a shoulder and into the floor. The slip of fingertips and fabric has tingles zipping along Ichigo’s spine to curl around his tailbone. “Hanging on by a thread? Why am I not surprised? That’s most of your closet,” he mutters, like that’ll distract either of them from the fact that he didn’t move even a fraction to keep it from happening. Instead his pulse thumps under his skin as Shiro’s fingers ghost higher.

Not bothering to take his attention off Ichigo and all that skin on display, he shrugs a nonchalant motion. "Yet you like all of my closet, so I don't thing you get to judge." Though, he thinks that bit of snark is probably just second nature more than real complaint.

"Ok. We'll get food." He sort of frowns about that first comment though, really not sure what that's supposed to mean. He doesn't care enough to ask, though. "No, I just-" Maybe this just shows how unused to having regular friends he is. He shakes his head. "Whatever. You're weird too." A grill near a school campus doesn't sound impressive, but considering Shiro's go to food most days is various dive bars, he doesn't really have much to say. And maybe a grill is better anyway, because anything too nice is probably weird for friends. "Sounds good."

He swallows, eyeing skin and muscle and the way Ichigo breathes. That skin feels smooth and warm against his hand, the muscle underneath firm. Ichigo has always been everything he wanted and he hates that. He hates how much he wants every part of him, every aspect of him. He wants to hate Ichigo, especially in moments like this, where they're so close but not close enough. But he can't do that no matter how hard he tries.

The small space feels close and still and it’s impossible not to focus on every little gesture. Ichigo could lean forward, close the distance, and take Shiro’s mouth the way he’s been aching to. He craves that contact. But that comment about him taking advantage the night he showed up keeps surfacing like an ugly splinter in his brain. It has him twisted with uncertainty. He’s not even sure Shiro meant it. He likely just wanted to hack away at Ichigo’s moral high ground and remind Ichigo that he rolls around in the mud like everyone else. But now, Ichigo can’t stop wondering if he was hurting Shiro on purpose on some subconscious level. He sure as hell was being selfish. 

Ichigo never gave himself enough credit for how attractive he is. "You definitely do." Ichigo looks so flustered and like he's trying not to be into this. It makes Shiro almost feel bad for enjoying it. Almost. He smirks and huffs a laugh under his breath when Ichigo finally settles on saying Shiro's sure it comes off. Of course he's sure it comes off. Before he can come up with something witty to say, though, it does come off. He laughs again, "No clue, but I'm gonna find out and tip them generously." He leans back just enough to eye the way it's basically just draped against Ichigo at this point. "I honestly think it looks better this way." It's definitely one of those pieces that looks best on the floor in a heap.

He wonders if Ichigo knows how much like an abusive boyfriend he sounds. But he gets it, and he knows from experience that Ichigo isn't that kind of creep. "How 'bout you just bang me instead of bang me up? Enough people are trying to do that right now, I'm sure you'll get to see me turn pretty colors soon enough."

Good. Maybe Ichigo does actually mean sex. Or- Shiro's eyes narrow slightly as he watches Ichigo struggle- maybe he's just distracted. He makes no effort to pretend he hasn't been staring at all the skin on display and shrugs. "I just assumed." What the fuck is he doing to himself? To both of them? Dinner, just as friends. He's rubbing salt into his own wound is what he's doing. "I'm not a weirdo. Where d'you wanna go?"

The scowl is so natural on Ichigo's face it takes Shiro a moment to even notice it. He offers up a sheepish grin, trying so hard and failing miserably to keep his attention on Ichigo's expression.

Ichigo snorts as Shiro says he just assumed. Typical. “You always do. I still want the food.” His smirk returns, sharper this time. “You’re a weirdo because you say it like it’s not a sure thing that we’re definitely going to have to eat and we’ll definitely be together when it happens.” Pretty hard for him to call anyone a weirdo while he’s letting this outfit get further with him than Shiro ever has, but he manages it with pure stubborn tenacity. Ichigo shrugs. “There's a grill over by the campus I used to eat at. You’ll like it.” He feels certain, because Shiro loves good food and this place is basically a classic. 

Shiro’s answering grin makes Ichigo’s brow twitch, the kind of look he wants to take a picture of—frame it, maybe, so the next time Shiro asks why he loves banging him or banging him up, Ichigo won’t need words.  

The barest slide of a finger shatters his train of thought. Shiro doesn’t play fair. He never has. Ichigo has always wanted him more than he should. The touch draws a shudder from Ichigo that he fights to suppress, every nerve in his back lighting up as that hand drifts around and Ichigo leans closer. Heat ripples outward, leaving him unsteady, breath catching hard in his throat. He doesn’t know why he lets this happen. Why he lets Shiro drag him into dangerous waters where every inch of contact feels like a freefall. Why he dove into this outfit like a kamikaze pilot intent on taking them both down. 

"Ok. We'll get food." He sort of frowns about that first comment though, really not sure what that's supposed to mean. He doesn't care enough to ask, though. "No, I just-" Maybe this just shows how unused to having regular friends he is. He shakes his head. "Whatever. You're weird too." A grill near a school campus doesn't sound impressive, but considering Shiro's go to food most days is various dive bars, he doesn't really have much to say. And maybe a grill is better anyway, because anything too nice is probably weird for friends. "Sounds good."

He swallows, eyeing skin and muscle and the way Ichigo breathes. That skin feels smooth and warm against his hand, the muscle underneath firm. Ichigo has always been everything he wanted and he hates that. He hates how much he wants every part of him, every aspect of him. He wants to hate Ichigo, especially in moments like this, where they're so close but not close enough. But he can't do that no matter how hard he tries.

He catches Ichigo glance back at him, but pretends he doesn't and keeps his attention elsewhere. It's too easy to touch Ichigo. It's too easy to want to touch him even when he knows he shouldn't.

No, it doesn't, indeed. He honestly has no idea if Grimmjow would go for it or if his stupid grudge and his stupid pride would get in the way. It'd probably be better if it did. He scoffs. "Sane people? Pff." You'd have to be crazy not to find Grimmjow attractive. "What's that make you, then? You been interested in him since before you knew me."

“Exactly,” he mutters. If Shiro thinks he’s unaware of that, he’s missed the point.

He rolls his eyes. “I closed it to keep other people out.” Obviously. But then he smirks a little. “Showing off your manners, huh?” That softens more of his resolve than he’d like. He snorts at the comment about the sweatshirt. “Like you can talk. Anyway, if I shut a door in your face and I want it to stay closed, you’ll know, because I’ll break something if you come through it.” He’s amused, until Shiro does come through the door and pushes into the small space. Ichigo edges back, telling himself he’s not waiting for another touch, not waiting to feel those fingers against his skin. Except, he is.

Looking for a distraction, his eyes fall to his pile of clothes when Shiro asks. “Uh, I got…” Ichigo blinks at the little, black contraption that might, maybe, cover his dick—but probably not. He picks it up with a finger and shoots Shiro a look. “What the hell is this?” 

Ichigo confirms the less than same allegation so easily that he smirks and snorts a small laugh. They really are quite the trio.

He arches a brow, then looks around to make a show of the lack of other people. "The front desk kid?" Fine, it's totally normal to close the changing stall door. That doesn't mean he's not going to give Ichigo a hard time for giving him a hard time about respecting said closed door. "Hopefully whatever you break isn't part of me." Obviously Ichigo means he'd break something on Shiro. "I'd rather have a warning about coming through that kind of door first. I don't particularly like it when things get broken." He closes the door behind him, mostly because Ichigo made that comment about keeping other people out.

He laughs at Ichigo's reaction when he spots the skimpy excuse for clothing he'd tossed into the pile of clothing. He honestly had expected Ichigo to see it and toss it right back where he found it before making it this far. "Not totally sure but you should try it on."

He sputters. He can’t believe Shiro is giving him a hard time about not stripping in public. Actually, no. He can believe it. Ichigo huffs, Shiro knows what he meant. “Uh huh. Fine. You’ll know because I’ll tell you, since apparently I’m not allowed to break your face if you want to keep looking like a big shot.” He’s snarking, but the sound of the door clicking shut makes his pulse stutter.

He shoots Shiro a glower. He’d be the pet that bit someone’s face off for looking at Shiro wrong.

He wonders if Shiro realizes he told him to try it on twice. Which means he probably wants Ichigo in it and isn’t just seeing how out of sorts he can get him. Ichigo’s gaze drops to the offending garment and the awful bow that looks like it was designed specifically to ruin his day. He rolls his eyes, drops it beside him, and starts pulling off his clothes. “I feel like I deserve something nice for this.”

Someday, Ichigo swears, he’ll figure out how Shiro gets him to do this kind of thing—and then he’s going to turn it around on him. Not that it would matter. Shiro would happily slip into anything strappy and suggestive before Ichigo even got the words out. He was about to earlier, before Ichigo snatched it back.

The sweatshirt comes off. Then the harness, because the last thing they need is an accidental discharge from his gun while Ichigo’s tangled in what must be the world’s smallest lingerie.

His brows pull together slightly and a hand raises to against one side of his own jaw. "Ow, damn. Why would you wanna break my face anyway? I'm too pretty for that." He could definitely walk around looking busted up every now and then without issue. It's not like he never gets his hands dirty. But regularly looking like he got his shit pushed in could raise questions and he doesn't need anyone assuming he's weak.

He definitely expected more than a dirty look for his pet comment. He smirks in response.

"Oh I'll give you something nice alright." But maybe Ichigo doesn't mean sex. He shrugs a little. "I just assumed this was my treat. Not nice enough? I could add in a nice dinner." Fuck, that's a date. "As friends."

“You’re pretty,” he says, exhaling hard. “But it’s a different kind of pretty when you’re banged up.” It’s the truth—and also probably weird. He’s never wanted to mess anyone else up, not Yuu or any of his other flings.

He snorts. “Good.” But he’s too busy figuring out the outfit to give that statement the attention it deserves. Ichigo glances up though. “What? You want to buy me clothes?” It’s not like Shiro can’t afford it. “I’d rather have the dinner.” Though he pushes out a breath. “We are friends, weirdo. You already agreed.” Though now he’s thinking about the time they went out to a nice restaurant. He damn near proposed that night. Like ninety percent. He still has the ring he was going to give him.

Then Shiro calls it a girl’s outfit. Ichigo pauses, scowling. “That explains so much.” It explains everything—why nothing fits, why it’s all going sideways and still somehow up. He’s not putting it back on the rack though. It’s been too many intimate places at this point.

He wonders if Ichigo knows how much like an abusive boyfriend he sounds. But he gets it, and he knows from experience that Ichigo isn't that kind of creep. "How 'bout you just bang me instead of bang me up? Enough people are trying to do that right now, I'm sure you'll get to see me turn pretty colors soon enough."

Good. Maybe Ichigo does actually mean sex. Or- Shiro's eyes narrow slightly as he watches Ichigo struggle- maybe he's just distracted. He makes no effort to pretend he hasn't been staring at all the skin on display and shrugs. "I just assumed." What the fuck is he doing to himself? To both of them? Dinner, just as friends. He's rubbing salt into his own wound is what he's doing. "I'm not a weirdo. Where d'you wanna go?"

The scowl is so natural on Ichigo's face it takes Shiro a moment to even notice it. He offers up a sheepish grin, trying so hard and failing miserably to keep his attention on Ichigo's expression.

He catches Ichigo glance back at him, but pretends he doesn't and keeps his attention elsewhere. It's too easy to touch Ichigo. It's too easy to want to touch him even when he knows he shouldn't.

No, it doesn't, indeed. He honestly has no idea if Grimmjow would go for it or if his stupid grudge and his stupid pride would get in the way. It'd probably be better if it did. He scoffs. "Sane people? Pff." You'd have to be crazy not to find Grimmjow attractive. "What's that make you, then? You been interested in him since before you knew me."

“Exactly,” he mutters. If Shiro thinks he’s unaware of that, he’s missed the point.

He rolls his eyes. “I closed it to keep other people out.” Obviously. But then he smirks a little. “Showing off your manners, huh?” That softens more of his resolve than he’d like. He snorts at the comment about the sweatshirt. “Like you can talk. Anyway, if I shut a door in your face and I want it to stay closed, you’ll know, because I’ll break something if you come through it.” He’s amused, until Shiro does come through the door and pushes into the small space. Ichigo edges back, telling himself he’s not waiting for another touch, not waiting to feel those fingers against his skin. Except, he is.

Looking for a distraction, his eyes fall to his pile of clothes when Shiro asks. “Uh, I got…” Ichigo blinks at the little, black contraption that might, maybe, cover his dick—but probably not. He picks it up with a finger and shoots Shiro a look. “What the hell is this?” 

Ichigo confirms the less than same allegation so easily that he smirks and snorts a small laugh. They really are quite the trio.

He arches a brow, then looks around to make a show of the lack of other people. "The front desk kid?" Fine, it's totally normal to close the changing stall door. That doesn't mean he's not going to give Ichigo a hard time for giving him a hard time about respecting said closed door. "Hopefully whatever you break isn't part of me." Obviously Ichigo means he'd break something on Shiro. "I'd rather have a warning about coming through that kind of door first. I don't particularly like it when things get broken." He closes the door behind him, mostly because Ichigo made that comment about keeping other people out.

He laughs at Ichigo's reaction when he spots the skimpy excuse for clothing he'd tossed into the pile of clothing. He honestly had expected Ichigo to see it and toss it right back where he found it before making it this far. "Not totally sure but you should try it on."

He sputters. He can’t believe Shiro is giving him a hard time about not stripping in public. Actually, no. He can believe it. Ichigo huffs, Shiro knows what he meant. “Uh huh. Fine. You’ll know because I’ll tell you, since apparently I’m not allowed to break your face if you want to keep looking like a big shot.” He’s snarking, but the sound of the door clicking shut makes his pulse stutter.

He shoots Shiro a glower. He’d be the pet that bit someone’s face off for looking at Shiro wrong.

He wonders if Shiro realizes he told him to try it on twice. Which means he probably wants Ichigo in it and isn’t just seeing how out of sorts he can get him. Ichigo’s gaze drops to the offending garment and the awful bow that looks like it was designed specifically to ruin his day. He rolls his eyes, drops it beside him, and starts pulling off his clothes. “I feel like I deserve something nice for this.”

Someday, Ichigo swears, he’ll figure out how Shiro gets him to do this kind of thing—and then he’s going to turn it around on him. Not that it would matter. Shiro would happily slip into anything strappy and suggestive before Ichigo even got the words out. He was about to earlier, before Ichigo snatched it back.

The sweatshirt comes off. Then the harness, because the last thing they need is an accidental discharge from his gun while Ichigo’s tangled in what must be the world’s smallest lingerie.

His brows pull together slightly and a hand raises to against one side of his own jaw. "Ow, damn. Why would you wanna break my face anyway? I'm too pretty for that." He could definitely walk around looking busted up every now and then without issue. It's not like he never gets his hands dirty. But regularly looking like he got his shit pushed in could raise questions and he doesn't need anyone assuming he's weak.

He definitely expected more than a dirty look for his pet comment. He smirks in response.

"Oh I'll give you something nice alright." But maybe Ichigo doesn't mean sex. He shrugs a little. "I just assumed this was my treat. Not nice enough? I could add in a nice dinner." Fuck, that's a date. "As friends."

He catches Ichigo glance back at him, but pretends he doesn't and keeps his attention elsewhere. It's too easy to touch Ichigo. It's too easy to want to touch him even when he knows he shouldn't.

No, it doesn't, indeed. He honestly has no idea if Grimmjow would go for it or if his stupid grudge and his stupid pride would get in the way. It'd probably be better if it did. He scoffs. "Sane people? Pff." You'd have to be crazy not to find Grimmjow attractive. "What's that make you, then? You been interested in him since before you knew me."

“Exactly,” he mutters. If Shiro thinks he’s unaware of that, he’s missed the point.

He rolls his eyes. “I closed it to keep other people out.” Obviously. But then he smirks a little. “Showing off your manners, huh?” That softens more of his resolve than he’d like. He snorts at the comment about the sweatshirt. “Like you can talk. Anyway, if I shut a door in your face and I want it to stay closed, you’ll know, because I’ll break something if you come through it.” He’s amused, until Shiro does come through the door and pushes into the small space. Ichigo edges back, telling himself he’s not waiting for another touch, not waiting to feel those fingers against his skin. Except, he is.

Looking for a distraction, his eyes fall to his pile of clothes when Shiro asks. “Uh, I got…” Ichigo blinks at the little, black contraption that might, maybe, cover his dick—but probably not. He picks it up with a finger and shoots Shiro a look. “What the hell is this?” 

Ichigo confirms the less than same allegation so easily that he smirks and snorts a small laugh. They really are quite the trio.

He arches a brow, then looks around to make a show of the lack of other people. "The front desk kid?" Fine, it's totally normal to close the changing stall door. That doesn't mean he's not going to give Ichigo a hard time for giving him a hard time about respecting said closed door. "Hopefully whatever you break isn't part of me." Obviously Ichigo means he'd break something on Shiro. "I'd rather have a warning about coming through that kind of door first. I don't particularly like it when things get broken." He closes the door behind him, mostly because Ichigo made that comment about keeping other people out.

He laughs at Ichigo's reaction when he spots the skimpy excuse for clothing he'd tossed into the pile of clothing. He honestly had expected Ichigo to see it and toss it right back where he found it before making it this far. "Not totally sure but you should try it on."

That makes him laugh. Still smirking and a little sheepish, he says, "In your defense, I'm good at not lettin' that distract me." At least not in so far as getting his ass handed to him because of it. It was certainly a deciding factor on why Ichigo walked away from his attempted murder, that and because Shiro's opportunistic. Ichigo was strong and a good fighter and couldn't sell him out because Shiro knew his dirty secrets. It was really a win-win for Shiro. Ichigo's response to his comment about his drug use sends a flash of stung anger through him. Ichigo's not around to see anything. Hell, if Ichigo had been around, he might have had the support he needed to keep from using again to begin with. Part of him knows it's not fair to pin his relapse on Ichigo, but he's got it in his head that it wouldn't have happened if things had turned out different between them. "You don't have to look." It's muttered because any louder and he wouldn't be able to keep the hurt from his voice.

He turns a sour look in Ichigo's direction for that, but yeah ok, fine. Not only would it not be smart to get between them, but it probably would be good entertainment too. Still. "You're about to find out how well I can still fight." He arches a brow, "If I were you? I'd totally defend my friend and then make out with you. Then maybe invite Grimmjow for a threesome." Ok all of that might be true except the first part. He'd watch first too.

He tries to look as innocent as possible in the face of that sour expression, but he’s definitely not managing it. He likes the idea of Shiro jumping him more than any smart person should. There's definitely something wrong with him. He smirks. “You’re the one that’d have to reimburse the store to pay for the damage if you want to keep shopping here. And we’d just end up screwing around on a pile of clothes somewhere anyway.” They don’t fight because Shiro doesn’t trust himself, not because Ichigo is opposed. He’s never been afraid of getting hurt. But his brain is still riding that imagination train hard enough that Shiro’s threesome idea doesn’t have any trouble sparking and flaring to life behind his eyes. He blinks and catches his toes on a table leg, knocking his knee and hip into the corner edge. He grunts at the sudden stop and hisses a curse, still nonplussed and thinking of bare skin and bloody knuckles. He’s not even sure what to say to that. His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he straightens and steps around the table like it didn’t just nearly take him down. But there’s heat creeping up the back of his neck. “You think that suggestion would make him less mad or more?” Which isn’t a no, because he’s not stupid. But also, “Since when are you interested in Grimmjow?” Is that a thing now? Ichigo’s asked about it before. Shiro’s answers never made it sound like it happened, but he also never directly said it didn’t. Probably on purpose. He looks over in spite of trying to be nonchalant. “Are you and Grimmjow fucking?” 

He scoffs. "What's your point? I could buy this whole store." It makes no difference to him if they broke a few tables, scared the clerk away, tore up some clothes and fucked in what was left. "Screwin' around on a pile of clothes could be fun though." He nearly runs into Ichigo's back when Ichigo walks into the table like he's got the coordination of a toddler. "So who's reflexes did you think were blown again?" It's an off handed comment while his palm comes up to brush lightly against the small of Ichigo's back before he catches himself and puts a bit of space between them again. It's pretty funny that his play on how things would go was such a distraction. "Fuck. Do I look like a psychic? I have no idea. More, probably, but that doesn't mean he'd shoot it down." More like he'd shoot Shiro but whatever. He arches a brow, "Who isn't interested in Grimmjow?" He's hot, he's grumpy, he's tall; what's not to be interested in? "Not currently."

Shiro would probably love to hit him after all the shit that got said during their breakup. Ichigo starts to mutter for Shiro to shut up, but his breath catches, leaving the words stuck in his mouth when cold fingers brush the hot skin of his back. Ichigo glances back, stomach tight, only to find Shiro already looking away. Ichigo licks his lips. He can still feel that light touch crawling like a phantom ache across his spine.

“No, it doesn’t.” Why is he even still thinking about it? It would make their situation infinitely more complicated. His tendency to self harm via attractive assholes can’t be healthy. But still, he’s having no trouble at all envisioning it. “Sane people?” He nearly sighs. That statement is true, but it doesn’t help Grimmjow be less hot. Or Shiro, either.

Not currently. Ichigo waits for jealousy to surface. It doesn’t. Mostly what surfaces is conflicted anxiety while he wonders if they were sleeping with Grimmjow at the same time or taking turns. They're a literal clusterfuck. And why didn’t Grimmjow tell him? He’s not jealous over Grimmjow. They aren’t together for good reason. And he can’t be jealous over Shiro because Shiro and Grimmjow were complicated before Ichigo ever entered the picture. But he is really fucking annoyed Grimmjow didn’t say anything about it.

He catches Ichigo glance back at him, but pretends he doesn't and keeps his attention elsewhere. It's too easy to touch Ichigo. It's too easy to want to touch him even when he knows he shouldn't.

No, it doesn't, indeed. He honestly has no idea if Grimmjow would go for it or if his stupid grudge and his stupid pride would get in the way. It'd probably be better if it did. He scoffs. "Sane people? Pff." You'd have to be crazy not to find Grimmjow attractive. "What's that make you, then? You been interested in him since before you knew me."

That makes him laugh. Still smirking and a little sheepish, he says, "In your defense, I'm good at not lettin' that distract me." At least not in so far as getting his ass handed to him because of it. It was certainly a deciding factor on why Ichigo walked away from his attempted murder, that and because Shiro's opportunistic. Ichigo was strong and a good fighter and couldn't sell him out because Shiro knew his dirty secrets. It was really a win-win for Shiro. Ichigo's response to his comment about his drug use sends a flash of stung anger through him. Ichigo's not around to see anything. Hell, if Ichigo had been around, he might have had the support he needed to keep from using again to begin with. Part of him knows it's not fair to pin his relapse on Ichigo, but he's got it in his head that it wouldn't have happened if things had turned out different between them. "You don't have to look." It's muttered because any louder and he wouldn't be able to keep the hurt from his voice.

He turns a sour look in Ichigo's direction for that, but yeah ok, fine. Not only would it not be smart to get between them, but it probably would be good entertainment too. Still. "You're about to find out how well I can still fight." He arches a brow, "If I were you? I'd totally defend my friend and then make out with you. Then maybe invite Grimmjow for a threesome." Ok all of that might be true except the first part. He'd watch first too.

He tries to look as innocent as possible in the face of that sour expression, but he’s definitely not managing it. He likes the idea of Shiro jumping him more than any smart person should. There's definitely something wrong with him. He smirks. “You’re the one that’d have to reimburse the store to pay for the damage if you want to keep shopping here. And we’d just end up screwing around on a pile of clothes somewhere anyway.” They don’t fight because Shiro doesn’t trust himself, not because Ichigo is opposed. He’s never been afraid of getting hurt. But his brain is still riding that imagination train hard enough that Shiro’s threesome idea doesn’t have any trouble sparking and flaring to life behind his eyes. He blinks and catches his toes on a table leg, knocking his knee and hip into the corner edge. He grunts at the sudden stop and hisses a curse, still nonplussed and thinking of bare skin and bloody knuckles. He’s not even sure what to say to that. His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he straightens and steps around the table like it didn’t just nearly take him down. But there’s heat creeping up the back of his neck. “You think that suggestion would make him less mad or more?” Which isn’t a no, because he’s not stupid. But also, “Since when are you interested in Grimmjow?” Is that a thing now? Ichigo’s asked about it before. Shiro’s answers never made it sound like it happened, but he also never directly said it didn’t. Probably on purpose. He looks over in spite of trying to be nonchalant. “Are you and Grimmjow fucking?” 

He scoffs. "What's your point? I could buy this whole store." It makes no difference to him if they broke a few tables, scared the clerk away, tore up some clothes and fucked in what was left. "Screwin' around on a pile of clothes could be fun though." He nearly runs into Ichigo's back when Ichigo walks into the table like he's got the coordination of a toddler. "So who's reflexes did you think were blown again?" It's an off handed comment while his palm comes up to brush lightly against the small of Ichigo's back before he catches himself and puts a bit of space between them again. It's pretty funny that his play on how things would go was such a distraction. "Fuck. Do I look like a psychic? I have no idea. More, probably, but that doesn't mean he'd shoot it down." More like he'd shoot Shiro but whatever. He arches a brow, "Who isn't interested in Grimmjow?" He's hot, he's grumpy, he's tall; what's not to be interested in? "Not currently."

That's fair. "Yeah, I get it." He's a little short while he says it because he doesn't want to get into it. He's had an emotional rollercoaster already today and he's pretty sick of it. He doesn't want to sit here and hear about how Ichigo and Grimmjow think he's a horrible person. He really should just drop by, but he always kind of wonders if he's going to get shanked and if he'd try very hard to avoid it. It would all depend on Grimmjow's mood and his own mood. He shrugs. "Whatever. I can figure something out. You don't have to."

That tone sort of shuts down the conversation. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or not. Ichigo sighs. Shiro doesn’t tend to go seek out pain, and Grimmjow’s been a sore spot for a while. He doubts Shiro will actually try to fix things. Ichigo isn’t great at being subtle, so sticking his nose in is likely to get Shiro’s broken, but he’d already decided before he offered. “That’s the point, I don’t have to. But you two stubborn assholes are never going to get your shit together.” He tosses Shiro’s words back at him, because he’s expecting kickback. “And it’s not a problem, because you two are friends.” That sounds weird. It's true, but he’s slept with both of them pretty aggressively. He’s not sure either of them belong solely in the friend category. It sounds too neat, too clean, for what either of them were to him. But that’s exactly what he’s offered Shiro. He doesn’t have a clue how it’ll work in practice.

He has no trouble remembering the night Ichigo's talking about, nor the exact look on Ichigo's face after their scuffle, trying to mask his fear with hate and anger. He smirks. "It was a good look on you." He'd seen plenty of scared, angry people, but there was always something different about Ichigo. Ichigo saying he'd still like him even if he was washed up and no longer able to hold his own is weirdly touching. It feels a little like acceptance, like Ichigo can still like him and find him attractive despite the drugs. And he knows Ichigo's disappointed he's using again. That disappointment is a big source of shame for Shiro. But he snorts. "I can still fight just fine. I might go a little overboard sometimes, but I'm a lot more in control of my habits than I was the first time around."

The idea of having Ichigo mention something to Grimmjow only sounds like a good idea in the very first half second it enters his brain. After even a tiny bit of thought, it sounds like a disaster. "Maybe not, but I doubt you're gonna do any better on my behalf. He's probably gonna come for my head. What're you gonna do about that?"

He presses his lips but then snorts. “I was fighting for my life and you were thinking about getting your dick wet.” Or he thought he was fighting for his life. Or for not getting caught at least. But he sobers slightly, looking over, brow furrowing slightly as he tries to determine if Shiro means it or if he’s just trying to keep Ichigo from lecturing him any further. “I hope you are. I don’t want to see you that messed up.” It’s not even that he minds the drugs. He’s taken his fair share. He just doesn’t want Shiro being stupid about it and fucking himself up or becoming someone else.

His brows go up. “Watch probably. Why would I do anything about it? You just said you can fight just fine.” Of course he’ll do something. But he’d rather watch. The idea of it sidetracks his brain for a moment, but he shakes himself. “If I survived, I’m sure you will. What would you do if you were me?” He’s betting Shiro would watch, too.

He looks toward the back until he sees what might lead to a place to change. Ichigo scoops up the stack of clothes and starts toward the bored kid at the counter. He doesn’t even get anything out before the kid reaches over to pick up a key attached to a flat piece of plastic and slides it across the counter. All without ever looking up from a phone.

That makes him laugh. Still smirking and a little sheepish, he says, "In your defense, I'm good at not lettin' that distract me." At least not in so far as getting his ass handed to him because of it. It was certainly a deciding factor on why Ichigo walked away from his attempted murder, that and because Shiro's opportunistic. Ichigo was strong and a good fighter and couldn't sell him out because Shiro knew his dirty secrets. It was really a win-win for Shiro. Ichigo's response to his comment about his drug use sends a flash of stung anger through him. Ichigo's not around to see anything. Hell, if Ichigo had been around, he might have had the support he needed to keep from using again to begin with. Part of him knows it's not fair to pin his relapse on Ichigo, but he's got it in his head that it wouldn't have happened if things had turned out different between them. "You don't have to look." It's muttered because any louder and he wouldn't be able to keep the hurt from his voice.

He turns a sour look in Ichigo's direction for that, but yeah ok, fine. Not only would it not be smart to get between them, but it probably would be good entertainment too. Still. "You're about to find out how well I can still fight." He arches a brow, "If I were you? I'd totally defend my friend and then make out with you. Then maybe invite Grimmjow for a threesome." Ok all of that might be true except the first part. He'd watch first too.

That's fair. "Yeah, I get it." He's a little short while he says it because he doesn't want to get into it. He's had an emotional rollercoaster already today and he's pretty sick of it. He doesn't want to sit here and hear about how Ichigo and Grimmjow think he's a horrible person. He really should just drop by, but he always kind of wonders if he's going to get shanked and if he'd try very hard to avoid it. It would all depend on Grimmjow's mood and his own mood. He shrugs. "Whatever. I can figure something out. You don't have to."

That tone sort of shuts down the conversation. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or not. Ichigo sighs. Shiro doesn’t tend to go seek out pain, and Grimmjow’s been a sore spot for a while. He doubts Shiro will actually try to fix things. Ichigo isn’t great at being subtle, so sticking his nose in is likely to get Shiro’s broken, but he’d already decided before he offered. “That’s the point, I don’t have to. But you two stubborn assholes are never going to get your shit together.” He tosses Shiro’s words back at him, because he’s expecting kickback. “And it’s not a problem, because you two are friends.” That sounds weird. It's true, but he’s slept with both of them pretty aggressively. He’s not sure either of them belong solely in the friend category. It sounds too neat, too clean, for what either of them were to him. But that’s exactly what he’s offered Shiro. He doesn’t have a clue how it’ll work in practice.

He has no trouble remembering the night Ichigo's talking about, nor the exact look on Ichigo's face after their scuffle, trying to mask his fear with hate and anger. He smirks. "It was a good look on you." He'd seen plenty of scared, angry people, but there was always something different about Ichigo. Ichigo saying he'd still like him even if he was washed up and no longer able to hold his own is weirdly touching. It feels a little like acceptance, like Ichigo can still like him and find him attractive despite the drugs. And he knows Ichigo's disappointed he's using again. That disappointment is a big source of shame for Shiro. But he snorts. "I can still fight just fine. I might go a little overboard sometimes, but I'm a lot more in control of my habits than I was the first time around."

The idea of having Ichigo mention something to Grimmjow only sounds like a good idea in the very first half second it enters his brain. After even a tiny bit of thought, it sounds like a disaster. "Maybe not, but I doubt you're gonna do any better on my behalf. He's probably gonna come for my head. What're you gonna do about that?"