baroqueworks | 01. Abejas que tienen miel tienen aguijón.

Temperance
Series: Bleach
Characters: Matsumoto Rangiku, Madarame Ikkaku, Ayasegawa Yumichika, Abarai Renji, Asano Keigo, Asano Mizuho, Kurosaki Ichigo, Arisawa Tatsuki.
Warnings: This is a Bleach fic set in 1927, during the Prohibition era. Just about everything you can expect (including but not limited to: racism, sexism, language, violence, domestic abuse). Every single character is a criminal in some form or another-- meaning they all set terrible examples which should never in a million years be followed.

Abejas que tienen miel tienen aguijón.

July 15, 1927.

Rangiku shifted away from the man leaning on the counter and motioned for Rikichi to pour her another shot. "Carlo, isn't it? I'm a little tired tonight, so whatever you're expecting, it's not happening. Besides," she added with a sharp smile, "you're not my type."

Carlo frowned, blinked owlishly, sidled closer and put a hand on her wrist, grip tightening when she tried to pull away. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, muscles of his face drooping, and his breath smelled like a few too many glasses of whiskey.

Rangiku rolled her eyes, then looked over her shoulder to try to catch one of the guys in the band up on the stage. Renji had his eyes shut, lips pressed to his trumpet's mouthpiece. Shuuhei was the same on his sax; Iba's back was to her, but he was just lounging in his seat at the drums. Rikichi had a hand on the neck of a bottle, but he was pretty small guy. She didn't really like breaking character so early in the evening, but Rangiku said just loudly enough to be jarring, "Not interested!" That was just enough to draw Shuuhei's attention, and she took the spare second to dig her nails into the back of Carlo's hand before throwing it off her wrist.

She vaguely noted the music slowing, then stopping, and Carlo reaching into his jacket with his free hand.

Rangiku mentally kicked herself in the face.

Of course he'd be armed. Of course he was drunk enough to pull a gun in exactly the wrong place on exactly the wrong person. She would've kicked him, but that might've set him off reflexively. She had already liberated the bottle from Rikichi, had it poised above the edge of the bar-- but that ended up not being necessary. There was a piercing whistle from the stage, and then the sound of a couch overturning as someone vaulted over it.

Rangiku looked over Carlo's shoulder, eyes widening, then ducked as a bottle shattered against the back of his head. She straightened up to the man hitting the floor and Ikkaku hauling him up by the neck to wrench the pistol out of his hand and slam him up against the wall.

A few of the other patrons looked up. Then, in true New Yorker style, went back to their drinks and conversation.

Ikkaku slammed his fist into Carlo's face, then cast a sidelong glance in her direction. "Havin' a little trouble here?"

Renji flashed her a thumbs-up when she glanced at the stage, then pointed to the entrance of the lounge, where Yumichika was hefting another bottle in his hands. Wickedly good aim had always been one of those talents the boss never let him brag about, but he liked to show off enough-- spread his tail feathers, as it were-- that it didn't even matter that he wasn't allowed to bring it up at every opportunity.

Ikkaku slammed Carlo against the wall again, and Rangiku flipped a strand of hair out of her eyes. She crossed her arms, smiled, leaned back against the bar. A little apologetically, she sighed, "Not even a Hey, you look good tonight?"

"Me, Boss and Yumichika were all tied up an' we come back to you in a pinch." Ikkaku bumped up the brim of his hat, shamelessly eyed her legs and the way her new dress hugged her curves, then grinned. "Ya look good tonight, Matsumoto."

Rikichi brought out a broom and a rag and started cleaning up. The bottle had been empty but shattered glass now littered the floor. Rangiku picked a piece off the bar and idly turned it in her hand, carefully avoiding the edges. "The right answer was, You look good every night, Matsumoto."

"Yeah, that's the problem." Ikkaku looked back to Carlo and handed him off to Renji, who promptly bent his arm behind his back. Yumichika bounded up while Kenpachi calmly took in the scene, and then disappeared into his office with an annoyed grumble. Ikkaku reached into Carlo's jacket and dragged out a black leather wallet to check his driver's license, only glancing up momentarily when the door to Kenpachi's office clicked shut.

"Carlo Mancini. That's Italian, right?"

Iba glanced over his shoulder from the stage, clacked his drumsticks to draw attention back to the band, and Shuuhei busted out a slow intro on his sax. Yumichika leaned into Ikkaku's side and pulled his arm down to get a better look at the card. "He's one of Enrico's fellas. Timoteo's boy. I saw them in Jersey last week."

"I'll let Boss know." Ikkaku shrugged, put the card and wallet back, then wrapped an arm around Matsumoto's waist to drag her into a quick hug, planting a kiss on her temple. "This slinky little number new? Your hair looks great."

Yumichika shook his head and motioned for Rikichi to pour them all a shot of something strong. "Ikkaku, you cheat, I told you that when we walked in."

Matsumoto blew him a kiss and gave Ikkaku's tie an affectionate tug. "Good to see you fellas, too."

Renji smirked, shook his head and dragged Mancini away, mercilessly ignoring his unsteady gait and. He gained his feet at the bottom of the stairs, and Renji pulled him up and out, through a short tunnel, up another set of steps to the door, clapping Kira on the shoulder as he reached the exit. He hauled Mancini into the alley, down Canal Street, a few blocks into Little Italy, then shoved him at the curb once he had recovered a bit from Yumichika's concussive throw.

Ikkaku was waiting around outside when he ducked into the alley to get to the back door, and Renji took a proffered cigarette gratefully. He struck a match on the wall and they both lit up.

Renji took a long drag, glanced out of the alley to make sure no one would see them, and said quietly through a thick cloud of smoke, "Long day?"

They couldn't see much of each other beyond the glow of cigarette tips, but Ikkaku lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug and said, "Yeah. You?"

"Pretty slow actually. Except for--"

Ikkaku snorted. "Matsumoto--"

"Hah, yeah. Yumichika was great, did you see it?"

Ikkaku had already been dashing for the bar when Yumichika threw the wine bottle, but it had been an alarmingly close call. "Saw it goin' by my ear."

They grinned at each other, finished their smokes and dropped them to the concrete, grinding their heels down on the glowing butts. Ikkaku knocked twice on the door, paused for a five-count, then knocked three more times. Kira, from the other side, unlatched the slot in the door and peered out. Ikkaku pulled his hat down over his eyes to flash a small, silver diamond-shaped pin secured to the band. They couldn't see Kira's mouth, but both of them knew he was smiling sheepishly at them. "Renji's got to show it, too. Sorry, gentlemen, security first."

"Alright, alright, I got it--"

Renji took about a minute to dig up his own pin out of a back pocket, after searching all his other ones ("Master'a speed an' stealth, Renji, the cops'll never see us now.") and after Kira let them in, they both clapped him on the shoulder. Renji latched the door behind him and asked, "Wanna switch off? How long you been up here?"

Kira picked up a book and idly flipped through a few pages. "Not too long, actually. I just had dinner. Got a few hours to go before I'll get bored, anyway."

They nodded, then brushed past to reach the stairs, which Renji took two at a time down to the main bar area. Ikkaku jumped the last three, plowing into Renji's back with a friendly shove and they scuffled like kids at the entrance for a few seconds. Renji fixed the collar of his shirt and Ikkaku straightened his hat, then rolled the cuffs of his sleeves back up. His tie had already been loose, so he didn't bother with it and Renji never tied his at all, though he kept it draped around his neck most of the time-- just in case he had to use it in a hurry.

Yumichika poured them both a small glass of whiskey and settled on the couch nearest the bar. Ikkaku picked up his and settled down at another table somewhere closer to the exit, occupied by a few college students. Renji joined him a few minutes later, leaning over the back of the couch to talk to Ikkaku. One of them, the one nestled right up against Ikkaku's side, sent Renji a dangerous sort of glare and leaned hard into his shoulder. He glanced down, as if he'd forgotten she was there for a second, and Matsumoto and Yumichika rolled their eyes at each other.

Yumichika settled deeper into the couch. "And we've only been back for twenty minutes."

"Wish I could hear what they're saying."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll hear all about it in the morning." Yumichika held up his glass, and Matsumoto clinked hers against it.

"Catch me up, Yumichika?"

"Same old. The Triads were stonewalling us." He took a slow sip, set down the glass and continued, "You know how they are. Always polite but vaguely threatening, unless they're trying to gun you down."

"Boss get anywhere with them? Were they--"

"They wanted a cut of our profits, for 'protection'. Boss did what he always does. No, they didn't try to gun us down."

Matsumoto crossed her ankles and gave Yumichika a long, calculating look. "Mr. Chang say anything about it?"

Yumichika gestured vaguely. "It was supposed to be an update talk, so he wasn't there. They tried to squeeze us, so Ikkaku ducked out about halfway through the meeting to find Two-Hands, and they came back with Chang."

Matsumoto smiled. "I'll bet he was pretty mad."

Yumichika's expression reminded Matsumoto of a cat that had just gorged itself on an endless lake of cream-- or maybe a lion resting after feasting on a fresh kill. He practically purred, "He walked them out at gunpoint."

"I can't decide whether to hate or love that man."

Yumichika raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back behind his ear, and knocked back the last of his drink. "Do both. We're sort of on his side."

"Cheers, babe."

Keigo watched Mizuho nurse a gin and tonic, then put her free hand on the bald man's knee. Keigo decided that he wouldn't let him lead her off somewhere once she was good and drunk, though if she were really that determined to get down his pants, there was nothing either of them could do about it. Ikkaku, for his part, largely ignored it, but then again he did have an arm around her shoulders and Keigo silently hoped to hell that it wouldn't go any further than that.

Ichigo sipped slowly at his red wine. He didn't drink very often, but Keigo had suggested Wandering Souls after their class ended, and they all figured-- why not? Mizuho's friends and Mizuiro were familiar with the place, and even though there were gin joints closer to the university, a crowd of young Japanese-American adults (the word is teenagers, lately) would stand out too much anywhere else. Besides, it was Ichigo's birthday. They had to celebrate.

Another man with a shock of bright red hair, a headband wrapped over tattoos above his eyebrows, leaned over the back of the couch just behind Ikkaku to say something indistinct into his ear. They snickered quietly at each other, then Ikkaku snagged the ends of the new guy's tie and dragged him down by the neck in a completely involuntary bow. "This here's Renji. He works with me, but he's only in town for a couple more months. 'S alright if you forget his name."

Renji pried Ikkaku's hand off his tie and smoothed it out with a rueful look. "You kids even old enough to drink?"

Ichigo shrugged, finished off his wine and put a hand to his cheek to check whether or not he had turned red. "How much more illegal could it get?"

Renji and Ikkaku shrugged at each other. They'd been drinking harder since they were younger, and with alcohol itself illegal, there was no such tihng as a 'drinking age', anymore. "Good point," Renji conceded.

"Na, Mizuho." Ikkaku tapped Mizuho on the shoulder and gestured around the table. "Sound off again. I don't know all your names yet. Renji don't know any of you, either."

"But you knew my name."

Keigo sighed and pointed at himself, then to Mizuho. "Asano Keigo. That's my sister." He added under his breath, "Unfortunately."

A nod. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

An almost identical nod. "Arisawa Tatsuki."

"Inoue Orihime. It's nice to meet you both!"

"Well, lookit that, Renji. They even introduce themselves right."

"All of you are Jap? You two didn't look it," he said, gesturing at Ichigo and Orihime.

"We're half."

Renji smiled widely at that. He didn't exactly look like anything, himself. "You related? Issei? Nisei? All of you."

Ichigo grinned back. "They're first-generation, yeah. Came over when you were kids, right? Tatsuki, Inoue and me are second. We're not related though. At least I don't think so."

"So're most'a us. Boss Zaraki was born in Hawaii even, right, Ikkaku?"

"Yeah. Honolulu. Renji's from California."

Ichigo put down his glass, leaned forward, and gestured to his left. Renji vaguely noted that that was North, but he was too caught up in the conversation to correct him. "My dad came here from Sacramento!"

"No kidding! I was born in Los Angeles. Got here 'bout ten years ago 'cause of, ah." He glanced briefly at Ikkaku and finished, "A friend."

Ikkaku pulled the brim of his hat down over his face and let his head drop onto the back of the couch. "Long, boring story. Rukia could tell it better, anyway."

Tatsuki spoke up outside of introducing herself for the first time since Ikkaku had sat down. "Who's native? Since we're here and all."

Keigo laced his fingers behind his neck and settled deeper into the couch. "Arisawa's from Brooklyn," he said, like that would explain everything. In a way, it sort of did.

That got Ikkaku's attention, and he lifted his hat off his face to get another look at her. "I'm from right 'round here."

Renji cut in with, "He thinks, anyway."

Tatsuki extended her fist across the table, and Ikkaku leaned in and bumped it lightly with his own. She propped her feet up on the edge of the table and looked around the lounge again. "So what about the rest of you?"

Renji leaned back so he just barely cleared Tatsuki's shoulder against the back of the couch, then threw his arm over the back. "Not a lot'a us are full-blooded anything. Hell, Ikkaku doesn't even know what he is."

"Sure I do. I'm a fuckin' American."

"He speaks Chinese, too, after forgettin' most'a his Japanese."

"So you're sayin' this ain't Chinatown?"

Renji sneered back, "I'm sayin' you're a goddamn Chink."

"How 'bout you shut your dumb fuckin' mouth before I do it for you," Ikkaku said easily.

"My, my, my," Yumichika drawled as he drew up to the table, Rangiku on his heels. "What's Renji razzin' you about this time?" He put a sort of emphasis on the word that everyone knew to mean that it left a bad taste in his mouth. "We're not going to need a leash now, are we?"

Keigo felt his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when the busty blonde goddess stepped out from behind Yumichika. Rangiku cheerfully rubbed the back of Ikkaku's head and waved at the rest of the table. ("For luck! The rest of you should do it too!")

Ikkaku jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, "This's Yumichika. That's Matsumoto. He plays the piano. She'll make ya hate life."

"Well, I have to do something in my free time," Yumichika said, nodding once in greeting.

Matsumoto pulled her bottom lip coyly between her teeth, then pouted. She looked mortally wounded by his words, but Ikkaku ignored it in a way that suggested (at least to Keigo) a complete lack of compassion. And eyes. And maybe interest in women. She said, "Oh, that's mean, Ikkaku."

Few women were as sharp as Matsumoto was, and even fewer could handle themselves better. Ikkaku, for his part, thought that if she wanted him to be nice to her, then she had damn well better be in some mental anguish. "Don't stop it from bein' true, does it?"

Matsumoto shrugged, then moved around the couch to sit on the arm next to Renji. "I suppose it doesn't! Renji, I think he lost his compassion along with all his hair!"

"Hey!"

Yumichika settled down on Ikkaku's other side, comfortably into his space, and then cheerfully shoved him over to make room. Ikkaku grunted, moved away (at the same time pressing himself just a little bit closer to an ecstatic and possibly very tipsy Mizuho) and hooked his elbow over the back of the couch to mirror Renji's position across the table. Keigo glanced anxiously around again and caught Ichigo giving Yumichika a long, appraising look. Ichigo waved to get his attention. "You threw that bottle a while ago, didn't you?"

"Yes, that was me, but don't assume I did it for Rangiku." Yumichika smiled back, razor-sharp, and added, "We can't afford to have someone gutted down here again."

Orihime might have gone pale, but Ichigo just nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I can see that."

"It's bad for business," Matsumoto cheerfully clarified, "but our regulars love a good fight once in a while. Our fellas don't disappoint."

Keigo finally took a moment to get a look at the other customers, and for the first time was struck by how spacious the place was. It looked tiny from outside, but he noted high ceilings and granite walls (they were pretty far underground), tables scattered throughout the main lounge around a dance floor, comfortable sofas and lounge chairs around them, doors with heavy locks on them leading to places hitherto unexplored, a stage, billiards tables, poker tables, a bar-- some of the customers looked like the normal, everyday socialites Keigo expected to see at a joint like Wandering Souls. Some of them were well-dressed and professional-looking, and the others looked like they could get into a fistfight literally at any second with no provocation.

He couldn't really find it inside himself to be surprised.

The music in the background wound down slowly, and the two guys onstage moved off to hunker down at the bar.

Arisawa and Inoue were engrossed in conversation with Matsumoto, which meant that it just happened to be his time to join them. Join them in that wonderfully bouncy crowd down at the end of the table. He stepped over Ikkaku's legs, moved the glasses he and Renji had brought over to make some room, then sat down right on the table. "Hey Arisawa, Sis-- either of you got the time?"

"Oh, no-- wait." Matsumoto stretched out one long, shapely leg to nudge Yumichika on the knee with her foot. "Yumichika, what time is it?"

He checked his watch and answered, "About two in the morning."

She sighed. "So late already? And Ikkaku's been swearin' a lot, I bet you're both tired."

Ikkaku seemed awake enough to hold a decent conversation, but only in the way someone who had given up on sleep did. Yumichika might have started looking a little worse for wear. Keigo had gleaned from conversation earlier that their days didn't always drag on so long, and most of the time they woke up in the afternoon to work the joint at night or pick up a delivery.

Yumichika shared a long look with Ikkaku, then beamed back at Matsumoto, all the weariness seeming to slip off his shoulders. She was pretty sure he hadn't just suddenly perked up, but Yumichika had always been good at looking exactly how he wanted himself to look. "If we sleep now, we won't be able to stay awake tomorrow night, either. Besides, I know Ikkaku wants to help close up."

"Yeah, you'd all just screw it up somehow."

Renji glanced over, then motioned at an empty couch Yumichika had been eying. "You two should at least sleep until then. Promise I'll wake ya up."

Cheerfully ignoring Mizuho's murderous look, Yumichika let his head drop onto Ikkaku's shoulder. "But Ikkaku makes such a comfortable pillow right here."

"Alright, alright, I'll take a fuckin' nap. Thanks, grandma." Matsumoto was about to protest before cut her off with, "An' I do mean Renji."

Renji casually flipped him off, then kicked him lightly on the knee. Yumichika stood up slowly, stretching his arms and back, while Ikkaku leaned closer to Mizuho. "You all comin' back sometime soon? Hate to think'a kids like you drinkin' hooch out of some filthy joint uptown. Figure if you're gonna get bent anyway..."

"Oh," Mizuho purred, "we'll be back."

"Good." Ikkaku gave her shoulder one last squeeze before following Yumichika's example and glancing around the lounge. "Anyone in the office?"

Matsumoto shrugged. "Nanao and Nemu are doing paperwork. Don't go in."

Ikkaku moved to a table at a corner of the room farthest away from the stage, slouched into the seat, propped his feet up on the table, crossed his arms and let his chin drop down to his chest, eyes closed. Yumichika settled down next to him, using the armrest as a pillow and draping his legs over Ikkaku's to get comfortable. He didn't even react, for all the world acting as if Yumichika did this regularly.

Keigo looked over, then back to the table, opening his mouth as if to ask a question. Matsumoto cut him off with, "Don't ask us, kid. Ikkaku's had girlfriends, and I've seen Yumichika drool over some real cute Janes, but I dunno about 'em."

Renji snickered. "Think they've been buddies since they were kids. We useta joke that Yumichika's Ikkaku's most successful long-term relationship. Shit, his other ones never lasted that long."

Tatsuki repeated, with a barely-suppressed laugh, "Used to?"

Renji rubbed the back of his head, then readjusted his ponytail. "Yeah, he cracked a bottle over my head one time he got sick of it."

Mizuho raised an eyebrow, eyeing the back of the couch across the room the same way a particularly hungry wolf would stare at a rabbit. "Wow," she breathed.

Somewhat apologetically, Renji amended, "Yumichika did, I mean."

Everyone but Renji at the table took a second to snicker, or chuckle, or, in Orihime's case, muffle a quiet giggle in her hands. Her laugh turned into a yawn, and Tatsuki patted her on the shoulder. "You tired?"

"I'm okay."

"Orihime's tired, guys." She cracked her neck a few times, then stood up and motioned for Orihime to do the same. "I am too, actually, we had a real long test today and stayed up last night to study."

Ichigo nodded, then surged to his feet. "Time to go, then. Thanks, you guys, this place is real neat. Where's the bill?"

Matsumoto stood up, walked around the table to give Ichigo a hug that left him beet-red and sputtering. "Happy eighteenth, Ichigo! All drinks today on the house, as long as you fellas come back sometime soon. Bring your friends. Be a bad influence."

"Aww," Tatsuki said, not even pretending to be disappointed, "I was even going to pay."

"Yeah, I think we'll be back. Keigo won't forgive me otherwise, right?"

"Damn right I won't, Ichigo! Hey, Sis, how about a hug for me-"

Matsumoto easily sidestepped Keigo's arms, sending him straight into Renji's back, and Tatsuki buried her face against Orihime's shoulder to stifle a laugh. She shook hands with Renji, let Matsumoto drag both her and Orihime into a tight hug and then raked her hands back through her hair to make sure it was back to its original messy state. Mizuho stood up, cast one last glance around the lounge, then dragged Keigo by the collar of his shirt to the entrance and up the steps.

"They're nice kids," Matsumoto said quietly once they were gone.

Renji grinned and nodded. "Think they'll be back?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Matsumoto snagged Renji's tie and pulled him after her on the way to the bar. He put up some token resistance ("I ain't a dog!"), but went along anyway.

Iba poured two glasses of whiskey for them. Shuuhei raised a hand in a casual wave and dragged some stools over. Matsumoto settled in comfortably, leaned forward on the bar, just enough to make Rikichi's face burn, and smiled. "Band sounded real nice tonight, boys."

Iba nudged her on the arm, careful to make sure she had put down her whiskey first. "Would've sounded better with you up there with us."

"I was conducting negotiations until just a little while ago."

Iba rolled his eyes. "With?"

"Federico," she said, and ran her tongue across her teeth.

Shuuhei took that to mean she had had the poor man eating out of her hand. He took a long sip of-- whatever he was drinking. He thought it might have been scotch. "How'd it go? That's Timoteo's oldest, isn't it?"

"Pretty well. He let slip about this year's Feast of San Gennaro."

"They're holding it again?" Iba asked, suddenly interested.

Matsumoto nodded absently. The festival last year had been the first and was pretty successful, not to mention pretty impressive, too.

"The don's a good guy," Iba added, nodding. "Think we're checkin' it out this year?"

"Oh, absolutely. Chang wants us to make sure they're not trying to expand into Chinatown too, but I don't think Timoteo plans to." She took a sip of her drink, grimaced at the taste and added, "His sons do, and you know how he is with them, but he's still got the last word, you know? Besides, Boss's little girl won't forgive us if we don't drop by."

Shuuhei glanced ruefully down at a scar on the back of his hand he had received chasing Yachiru down one of the halls to the storage room, when he had banged it against something sharp, and reached into his pocket for his cigarette case. "How's she doing?"

Iba shrugged, finished off his drink and passed the glass over the bar to Rikichi, then motioned for an ashtray. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in Ikkaku and Yumichika's general direction and folded his arms across the bar. "She's starting fourth grade... those two would know better'n I do."

"Remember when Boss used to bring her in?" Matsumoto thumbed a lipstick print off the rim of her glass and then set it back down on the bar for Rikichi to top off.

"Nightmare on Canal Street," Shuuhei quipped, smirking around an unlit cigarette between his lips. "Kid's too worn out after school now, huh?"

Iba pulled down his shades and gave him a long, knowing look until Shuuhei handed over another cig. Iba did have the courtesy to produce a matchbook from his pocket and light them both up, though. "It wasn't so bad. She's a good kid when she's chewin' on Ikkaku instead'a one of us."

"Yeah," Matsumoto said laughing into her glass, "then it's just hilarious."

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