It’s not you, it’s my enemies + blind date GrimmIchi or….. Starrk/Byakuya 🙂

– loveasunnyday

Starrk scans the restaurant as the host leads him through the first room and into a second, much quieter section. He’s here because someone is a dirty, dirty blackmailer and because Lilynette gave him the puppy-dog eyes.

(He’s ever-so-slightly pissed at Kurosaki for befriending Lilynette and letting his little sisters teach her that skill.)

(As if she wasn’t dangerous enough without it.)

He was promised good food, though, and that’s enough for him. The whole ‘blind date’ is probably going to turn out poorly – already he’s getting looks because of how he looks – but he’ll be a gentleman about it. Kurosaki did tell him that this date was more about getting the other person out of their head and less about romance but–

Starrk can read between the lines. Kurosaki is worried about the other person and is using Starrk to bait a reaction. Normally he’d be able to dredge up the strength for anger at being used so, but… Kurosaki had been more worried than Starrk had ever seen the boy.

(Not even the botched summoning that drew Starrk and Lilynette into the human world and bound them there had caused such a reaction.)

(Kurosaki had been worried then, too, but this… he was nearly fretting with it this time.)

The host leads him to a table near the back, where a man in a formal kimono waits. He’s pretty, Starrk acknowledges as he takes the man in, but there’s a shadow coiled around and through the man, a darkness that resonates with Starrk’s Aspect.

(He can see why Kurosaki would be worried about this man.)

(This is a dark solitude, lonely and aching and helpless in the face of the world.)

(It makes Starrk itch, makes him want to reach out and take, and damn the promises he made to Kurosaki when he was first summoned and bound.)

He shakes the desire off and settles into the seat across from the man he’s come to meet, lounging in place despite all human propriety. Annoyance flickers across the other man’s face, before smoothing back out into polite disinterest.

“I suppose you’re the one Kurosaki-san conned into this… charade,” the man says with a tiny twitch, lips thin and shoulders rigid.

“Yeah. Call me Starrk.”

“Kuchiki Byakuya.” Kuchiki looks down at the menu in front of him, jaw clenching and fingers twitching against the heavy paper. “I apologize for the trouble.”

Starrk shrugs and glances at the menu, using it to occupy his hands to prevent him from indulging in any unfortunate impulses. “He’s worried about you, and I can see why.”

Breath hisses through Kuchiki’s teeth, and the look he levels on Starrk is cold enough to freeze better men in their seat. “He doesn’t need to worry.”

He hums and props an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he focuses his senses on Kuchiki properly. Crushing loneliness coils around the man’s soul like a constrictor, aided by older, deeper wounds that gleam with foreign power. It’s a surprise that Kuchiki is as functional as he seems, but Starrk knows first hand the adaptability of humanity.

(Someone’s been busily trying to mold Kuchiki into a shape not his own.)

(Interesting.)

The waitress appears before Kuchiki’s frustration can rise too far – Starrk suspects the woman has experience dealing with… unfortunate dates – and Kuchiki swallows his emotions in favor of being polite. They order drinks, the woman suggests an appetizer and Kuchiki agrees, and then she strides away and leaves them to the uncomfortable silence that falls.

Starrk sighs and tilts his head just so, and is immediately rewarded with Kuchiki’s eyes widening as he spots the telltale bone circlet around the base of his neck. “Kurosaki has a right to be worried,” he repeats dryly, watching realization creep through Kuchiki’s expression.

“I’m not…” Kuchiki swallows and clenches his jaw, taking a moment to breathe while staring at the table between them. “Which one are you?”

“Solitude, isolation, loneliness. Take your pick.”

Kuchiki’s lips thin and he squeezes his eyes closed, hands settling in his lap and shoulders rigid. For a single heartbeat Starrk is able to see how shattered the man is, before he shudders and forces everything back. “I’m hardly alone,” he says, fixing Starrk with steady, empty eyes. It’s a mantra that Starrk is intimately familiar with. “My clan is large and I have a sister to care for.”

“It’s possible to be surrounded by people and still be alone,” Starrk reminds Kuchiki, ignoring the dark look that earns him. “Especially when your nature is being twisted by bindings.”

That draws Kuchiki up short. “Bindings?” he hisses, leaning forward and resting a hand atop the table, fingers splayed as he braces himself. “Explain yourself.”

“Exactly what I said.” Starrk spares a brief look at the tables around them, then leans forward and reaches out to hold Kuchiki’s hand, lacing their fingers together in a parody of intimacy.

Like this he can taste Kuchiki’s power, bent and twisted and still so very strong. He’s like one of those strange, ornamental trees that Starrk has never seen the appeal of, trained into unusual shapes and requiring constant maintenance. A single thought and the first of many tiny bindings shatters into glittering fragments that Starrk devours.

(It’s been years since he faced such a feast.)

(Ever since he devoured the final binding on Kurosaki’s soul, he’s been surviving on gifted power and the emotions given off by people succumbing to his Aspect of Death.)

Kuchiki shivers, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he looks between their intertwined fingers and Starrk’s face. “I don’t think you should do that,” he says, voice strained. “If someone’s been casting bindings on a Clan Head, then they’re confident in their ability to get away with it. If they discover who and what you are, they’ll undoubtedly retaliate.”

“Let them.” Starrk tightens his grip on Kuchiki’s hand, not that the man is trying to pull away. He shatters the next tiny binding, consuming the fragments and letting the taste linger in his mind. It’s familiar in a distant way, akin to the sense he gets of Kuchiki’s power, and that tells him all he needs to know. “You know Kurosaki’s strength. If I tell him what your own Clan has done to you–”

“What?!”

Starrk hums and gives the neighboring tables a lazy, pointed look that has the nosy humans turning away. Once he’s certain that people have stopped staring, he arches an eyebrow at Kuchiki and stares in surprise as a faint blush colors the man’s pale cheeks. “Perhaps we should save this conversation for later,” he offers when it becomes clear that Kuchiki is too embarrassed to speak. “If you truly want me to do nothing, that’s fine. But I won’t hide this from Kurosaki.”

(He owes Kurosaki too much as it is.)

(Actually… maybe Kurosaki already knew.)

(Why else would he pester a Lord of Death into a blind date with a human mage?)

Kuchiki looks away from him, head angled down and eyes on the table. He’s fighting himself, Starrk suspects, his true nature struggling against the compliant form he’s been molded into.

Starrk shatters another little binding. Devours the fragments. Watches Kuchiki’s breathing hitch.

“I won’t be able to do more than the littlest ones like this,” Starrk drawls, resting his chin in his hand again and watching Kuchiki through hooded eyes. “If you want me to free you…”

Shatter. Devour.

Shatter. Devour.

Shatter-devour-shatter-devour–

“Please,” Kuchiki breathes out, barely giving voice to the word. He glances up and fixes Starrk with a look that’s steadier than he expected. There’s a flash of stubborn pride gleaming beneath determination, and Starrk knows in that instant that, for all the Elder’s efforts, they’ve never managed to fully twist Kuchiki to their will.

“Hm. Your place or mine?”

Kuchiki’s breath catches in his throat and color dusts his cheeks once more, making Starrk arch an eyebrow in surprise. He knows they’re supposedly on a date, but he’d not expected the man to react as if they were actually courting.

(Ah, but the man is drowning in himself, isolated and alone.)

(He remembers how it felt when Kurosaki reached out to him… if the boy had been a man, he might have reacted the same.)

“Yours is probably safest,” Kuchiki decides after a moment. He draws his composure around himself like a cloak and sits straight as their waitress approaches once more. “After…?”

“That’s fine.” Starrk sits back and gives his attention to their waitress, though he doesn’t release Kuchiki’s hand.

He was promised a good meal and now he has two in front of him.

He’d be a fool to turn down either.