Title: Urahara's Delivery Service!

Pairing: IchiHichi, possible GrimmUlqui

Rating: T (may rise later on)

Disclaimer: Don't own unfortunately.

Summary: AU. IchiHichi. Welcome to Urahara's delivery services! Composing of Ulquiorra, the 'animated rock', Shiro the 'man who can sell a polar bear ice', Ichigo, the 'lil' prostitute', Grimmjow, the 'scrooge' and the self-proclaimed God himself, Urahara!

A/N: Was originally, I'm the New Cancer, from Panic! At the Disco's There's a Good Reason. Love that song…I actually like all of Panic! At the Disco's song so that doesn't really count. Heheh…

Started out as one of my Panic! At the Disco's AU ONESHOTS, then a plot bunny kamikaze my brain and this was born instead. Though be warned, it has not planning to it so I'll be making it up as I go along like Parenting for Dummies or Viceroy (actually, that does have a plot but it's still pending).

Shinigami and Hollows do exist, along with other mythological creatures, so prepare for some crossovers with European or African, etc creatures as well.

Enjoy!

6666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666

"I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it, 'cause you so say under your breath, you're reading lips, when did he get all confident?"

--- Panic! At the Disco, There's a Good Reason

666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666

URAHARA'S DELIVERY SERVICE! 001: Ichigo the Prostitute

It was strange how the disconcerting feeling of déjà vu unexpectedly leaps out at you.

Shiro sighed heavily, wondering for the umpteenth time that night why he took this teen in (he was sure that the stranger was a teen, he certainly looked it). Pity, probably, mixed with bitter nostalgia of the two years he spent in dingy clubs and street corners trying to snatch up enough money just to buy a decent meal, all at the cost of his body.

Back then; it didn't matter if the money was dirty or stained with blood. Money was money no matter how you got it, and that was the only thing that he strived for at the time.

He shook those memories away. Despite being 'dirty' in sense, he didn't regret those days. They were fun, but he couldn't have lived the rest of his life like that. He'd probably be dead by now, from starvation or OD, if Urahara didn't find him.

He also had a gut feeling about the redhead.

The aforementioned redhead was looking around his living room nervously, slim fingers curled round the smooth porcelain of a steaming mug. Shiro scrutinised the sooty eyelashes, thick kohl outlining almond, ochre eyes and smooth, tanned skin. The teen had good looks; he admitted that, probably got good business too. But he could easily see the dislike of submission in the teen's posture, being a prostitute isn't a good career for him.

Shiro sipped his hot beverage, eerie golden eyes slipping shut. He remembered when customers always murmured to him about his 'beautiful eyes'. To be honest, he hated them himself. "You're not cut out t' be a prostitute." He said at last, lowering his mug slightly.

"It's money." The teen countered, rubbing the smooth surface of his mug with clean fingers (their hands have to be clean, or look it at least). "So is this going to be a quickie or are you just paying me to admire me?"

Practised, Shiro mused. "T' make that sentence seem more natural, you hafta keep yer eyes half lidded, put a possible purr in there or somethin' flirty." He sipped his drink. "But pretty good fer a novice at least."

"You've been in business too?"

"Two years." Shiro lowered his empty mug on the coffee table, leaning back in his couch with an instinctual seductive pose, something that he never quite stamped out. "But it's nothin' t' be proud of. I don' regret those days, really, but I'm glad I'm not in business anymore."

The teen scoffed softly, dark ochre eyes staring blankly at the contents of his mug. "Two years, huh? Only four months for me." The redhead shook his head slowly, the vibrant orange strands looked silky and soft under the living room's light. They had to look their best. "I've hated every second of it."

"I could guess." The albino leant his head back, a flirtatious smirk playing on pale lips. "No offence, but ya don' have th'…character befittin' a prostitute. Ya seem like a loyal kinda guy t' me. You desperate?"

The redhead nodded mutely. "Yeah…one of the guys loves it; to be honest it's the perfect job for him but…" The teen sighed heavily. "I know this girl who's in business and she really isn't cut out for it. Really sweet and kind but…"

"Not a whore?" Shiro shrugged. "It happens. Th' bad people get what they want an' th' good people are left scrabblin' around in a ditch fer food or money." The albino shook his head again. "Sad place."

The redhead shifted nervously. "…Are you actually paying me?"

"'Course. I know how it is." Shiro flashed a lopsided grin at his guest. "But I'm jus' wonderin' if ya wanna continue your life as a whore. I've got a job fer ya that won' demand for ya t' drop yer pants fer money. Pays better too." He pushed himself up from his couch, whisking his mug from the coffee table and tutting at the ring left on the smooth mahogany surface. "Coasters. Gotta buy coasters."

"Why? I'm a stranger to you." The redhead pointed out, raising a hand to his eye as if to rub it, paused, then lowered it again. "Or is this some elaborate way to get a boy-toy for yourself?"

Shiro couldn't stop a bark of laughter. "W-What? Sorry, but no. If I wanna fuck I'll jus' come out an' say it." He walked from the living room into his kitchen, his voice carrying easily to the confused teen. "I admit yer hot, prob'ly have a lot of customers too." Shiro re-entered the room, one hand on his hip, tilting his head to the side. Another of his poses that he couldn't stamp out of his system. "Nah. I dunno why I'm helpin' ya. You remind me of myself so that's prob'ly why."

The redhead eyed him suspiciously, but he couldn't hide the faint glimmer of hope in those ochre orbs. "What job is it?"

"Th' job is workin' at a delivery service…it ain't jus' any delivery service 'course, but I'm sure I can get Urahara t' hire ya. He hired me after all." Shiro seemed to ponder this briefly before returning his attention to the curious redhead. "I've even got a spare room in 'ere. It's up t' you in th' end though. I can't force ya t' stay, you can continue yer life as a prostitute or you can do what I did an' accept some stranger's help." Actually, Urahara had damn well dragged him from the club, proclaiming that he was now his employee and wasn't allowed to sell himself anymore. Shiro had sulked for days but he eventually got over it.

"Delivery service?" The redhead fidgeted nervously, kohl-lined eyes narrowed in thought. "How much does it pay?" He asked shrewdly.

"Right down to th' important stuff, eh?" Shiro laughed. Man, this kid really reminded him of himself. "Depends on th' importance of th' delivery. Yer experiences of bein' a whore would come in handy. Ulquiorra is like an animated rock." The albino sauntered forwards, a pale hand ruffling silky orange strands. "You in, kid?"

"I'm not 'kid'." The teen snapped mulishly, jerking from the contact harshly. "And…I guess…it's better then hanging around those clubs and letting some bastard fondle me."

"That's th' spirit." Shiro stepped back from the redhead's personal space. "Well, I guess we might as well introduce ourselves. Th' name's Masshiro Shiro – don't laugh – jus' call me Shiro. None of this suffix crap." (1)

"My name's Kurosaki Ichigo." The ex-prostitute sighed softly, shoulders sagging as if a great weight had been lifted. "I'll seriously quit being a whore?"

"You'll prob'ly hafta use yer charm, but…yep." The albino stood back, scrutinising the redhead closely. "…Y'know…black an' white would look better then that."

"Shut up, I can barely afford enough to feed myself."

Shiro raised his hands up in surrender. "Oi, oi! You'll be able t' go on a shoppin' spree soon…roomie." The albino strutted from the living room with a maniacal cackle.

Ichigo didn't get the joke.

X.x.X

"Awww! He's such a cutie!"

Ichigo twitched violently, bronze eyes snapping to Shiro as if to say, 'This is our employer?'

"Yo. Crackhead, I don' think he appreciates bein' called 'cutie'." Shiro muttered from behind his magazine, 'Safe routes through Hell'. "Damn path through seven is blocked by Berial. Fat ass…" The albino continued mumbling under his breath and missed the bemused expression on his new roommate's face.

"Well my lil' prostitute!" The blonde man cried exuberantly, a green striped fan being flapped around wildly. "I would introduce you to your other two co-workers but they're out on a delivery at the moment, and I'll introduce you to the helpers after your first job!"

"Helpers?" Ichigo was pinned to his new boss's side and he instinctively tensed up. The blonde man didn't notice or ignored it.

"Tessai, Jinta and Ururu of course!" Ichigo threw a semi-panicked look over the exuberant male's arm back at the albino; unfortunately Shiro was too absorbed in his magazine to see their newest addition being carted off by a madman – who was coincidently their boss. "Oh! And we can't forget Yoruichi! They help out when there are too many deliveries! Finally, Masshiro-chan has a partner!"

Ichigo sighed as they entered a room. Seemed he was all alone in this one. Like that wasn't new. "Hey…what 'deliveries' do you do anyway? Shiro mentioned about me having to use my 'charm'…"

"You've heard of 'Shinigami' and 'Hollows' right? Of course you have, you've got high reiatsu!"

"Er…sorry to burst your bubble but…no."

The eternally unshaven man didn't seem surprised or put out. "That doesn't matter; Masshiro-chan will tell you aaaall about it!" Ichigo's boss released him and practically skipped up to the far wall, fan brandished fiercely. "Masshiro-chan probably doesn't know why he picked you up, but his instincts are strong, uncannily so." Urahara paused. "You know…you're exactly like Masshiro-chan when he first joined!"

Ichigo fidgeted, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes and smudge his make up. When he awoke that morning, he had mechanically applied his kohl and prettied himself up before realising he wasn't a prostitute anymore. He had stood for exactly ten minutes in front of the mirror as that thought finally sunk in. He had then laughed and twirled around his room in delirious joy until Shiro had barged into his room and dragged him off to a café for food.

He felt like he was top of the world for a few blissful moments.

"I don't care." Ichigo grumbled. "'Slong as I don't need to sleep with some perverted old fart, I'll do whatever you want me to."

"Definitely like Masshio-chan." Urahara mumbled to himself. "Right then, your delivery is to Mayuri-san. He's my predecessor in the Scientific Research and Development of Seireitei. But he only plays God, unlike me!" The eternally unshaven man cackled. "Playing is for children!"

Ichigo allowed his new boss to have his Evil Dictator moment before coughing discreetly.

"Ah! Yes, ahem. Top secret delivery!" Urahara rummaged about in a box before procuring a small container. He pushed it into Ichigo's tanned palm and shooed the redhead away with his green striped fan. "Chop chop! Money isn't made by standing around! Maybe when you get back, Grimmjow-kun and Ulquiorra-kun will be back!"

Ichigo left the eternally unshaven blonde man to his (questionable) devices; utterly confused how his life had done a complete 180°, from a prostitute to some delivery boy. All because he met Shiro.

The aforementioned albino looked up from his magazine. "Who's it sendin' to?"

"Some Mayuri guy."

"Ah fuck." Shiro grimaced, taking the small package from his new co-workers hand and putting it in his coat pocket. "I hate that lunatic. C'mon. It's time t' show ya th' ropes, kid."

"I told you, it's not 'kid'." Ichigo snapped. "It's Ichigo."

"Whatever, kid. I'm, what? Ten years yer senior?"

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow as they exited the modest looking shop disguised as a sweet shop. "You're thirty years old?"

Shiro abruptly stopped, wide golden eyes locked onto the redhead. "Yer twenty? Jesus…you look fifteen!"

"Tch. Why does everyone think I look fifteen?" Ichigo grumbled, narrowing kohl-lined eyes at his co-worker. "I don't seriously look that young…do I?"

"…" Shiro shook his head mutely before continuing on. "Whatever, doesn' really matter. I'm still older then ya by five years." He made a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway; his pale hand latching onto Ichigo's tanned one. "Stick close, kid."

Ichigo harrumphed, tensing at the contact slightly. "Why? In case I get mugged?" He didn't receive a reply; instead his co-worker tugged him closer, entwining their fingers together. "Shiro?"

"If ya wanna enter th' first ring, we need t' go through 'ere." Shiro stopped at an innocuous wall with a cracked mirror. Ichigo pondered over the reason for a mirror being there before discarding it. "T' enter th' first ring t' get to th' Shinigami's realm, ya need t' find this mirror or th' mirror along Raiu Avenue – it's by th' Ramen stand, you can't miss it – an', Urahara will give you one when you can carry out jobs on yer own, you need a Philosopher's Stone."

Ichigo sent a flat stare at the albino beside him. "…A Philosopher's Stone."

Shiro nodded, the lopsided grin curled round his lips not helping him to convince the tanned male. "Yep. Look, I'll show ya." He fished about in his pockets, finally taking a gem sized, silver wrought beaker full of some mercurial substance. "This is a Philosopher's Stone. Doesn' look like a stone, I know, but blame th' Alchemist who named it, not me." (2)

"…" Ichigo sighed. Either this or whoring. Either this or whoring. "How does it take us to this 'first ring' place?"

"Like this."

Shiro moved his hand toward the mirror, the small beaker clinking against the grimy glass. Nothing happened for a few minutes and Ichigo was about to open his mouth to snap out a snide comment when the surface of the mirror rippled mystically.

Ochre eyes widened when the albino's hand sunk into the grimy glass, an eerie glowing white light emitting from the mirror. He yelped when he was unceremoniously dragged forward, Shiro already having shoved his whole arm into the mirror. "C'mon, kid! Don' ya wanna get paid?"

Ichigo stared with awe filled eyes at the albino, and, if he had to be corny, he'd say that Shiro looked like some divine angel at that moment. "…S-sure." He took a deep breath, and copied his co-worker. The liquid glass was cool to the touch, it felt…light. "Do we just walk through?"

"Yep." Shiro's lopsided grin grew larger. "Y'know, this jus' clinches th' fact that you've got high reiatsu. Normal folk wouldn' have been able t' see th' mirror, let alone do this."

Before Ichigo could ask what he meant by that, Shiro had already stepped through the mirror and – his hand still clasped tightly in Ichigo's – dragged the redhead after himself. Ichigo's gasp of surprise was cut off as he was fully submerged in the liquid glass.

The light dimmed from the mirror, the alleyway now deserted.

66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666

(1) Masshiro means Snow White. XD Couldn't resist.

(2) No, not Fullmetal Alchemist's Philosopher's Stone or Harry Potter's. I'm basing this off Devil May Cry's version of the stone and its uses, which was to use it at the mirror in Mallet Island to go into Hell and kick Mundus, the Emperor of the Underworld's, ass.

A/N: Dun Dun Duuuuuun!

We'll see how Ichi's first job goes next chappie!

How'd ya like it? Want me to continue? This is a spur of the moment thing anyway…