Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own.

She doesn't doubt that she had been dear to Gin. She had always been important to him. He had sheltered her when he could, the best he could, from others and herself. He had taken care of her in his own way. And the time they have spent together was precious to her. But here in the cold light of a pale winter afternoon she found herself stunned and questioning just how to label what she had once had with the captain.

All those years of devotion and admiration, and the purity of it all, came crashing down with a single thought that had brushed past her. While the existence of what had been was undeniable, and not to be forgotten, it was jumbled and unclear. It made her wonder if there was something else that should deserve the label she had given to the silver haired fox's sentiments.

". !" She flinched as she heard her name growled across the room again. For once she had been at her desk instead of lounging on the couch when a pile of papers came crashing down in front of her with a shattering quake. With one eye open she peeked up over the stack to see her taicho glaring coldly at her.

The captain of the tenth division still wasn't to his full height. He came up only to her chin though the tips of his still unruly, though longer in the back, hair tickled her nose if she stood too close to him. His voice had changed drastically into a smooth low tone that she had seen grown and professional women shiver over. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't one of them. For all the charms he had gained, he hadn't lost the ability to scrutinize her priorities.

"These should have been done YESTERDAY." He snapped.

"But they're done now…aren't they taicho? You're so good to help me out with—" She put on her sweetest smile knowing it was unlikely to work.

"I shouldn't have helped you at all!" His voice escalated. "If I have to put in one more quarterly report of your extensions—"

"But I always get—" She pouted; he closed his eyes, his anger boiling. His fists clutched the edge of his desk.

"Don't you understand?" His gasket busted. "Rangiku, one more poor report and they could demote you! Or even reassign you! It doesn't matter if it eventually gets done. Your skill level doesn't pertain either."

The light haired lieutenant paused, staring at the fuming captain who went on about the matter quoting the recent reassignment of Nanao Ise from her division to another. Though the argument hardly made sense to her, as Nanao was renowned for her dedication and the complete opposite of herself. But her mind spun around something else. It rotated around the sound of her name. They were always formal in the office. The look in his eyes wasn't quite as icy as she had thought. No, they were murky and unsure. Was he…afraid?

"Captain?" She stopped his flood of words with his title. "Would you miss me?"

"O-Of course not!" He sputtered, straightening up and crossing his arms. He refused to look at her.

Grinning she slipped out of her desk and bent over to look up at him from a lower angle, pouting. "Are you suuure?" She winked at him.

"It would be irritating to train someone who knew the division as personally as you do all over again." He slowly conceded.

"As personally, hmm?" She smirked. This caused a brilliant blush to spread across the Captain's face. "Well I don't think I know the ENTIRE division THAT personally." She chuckled.

"You know what I meant!" He snapped, being stopped when she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. The captain gulped in a way that was barely visible as she leaned into him. He grumbled her name, looking towards the closed door as he hesitantly put his arms around her waist. His grip was loose.

"Toshiro?" She bent her head down to whisper into his ear. She heard him grumble in protest but his actions didn't match is words. He shifted them so that she was leaning backwards towards the desk, his head tilted up towards hers. Rangiku giggled and raised her leg to cling her knee around his back.

"This doesn't change what—"

"I know." She whispered again before stealing his words with her lips.

There were certainly some perks to having a lover who was stuck on the later side of puberty. It made his sometimes suffocating caution decrease to a tolerable level. Even she had to admit that this was pushing their limits of comfort. Even so she didn't protest as he peeled away the fabric that rested against her.

Somewhere between then and when she held him close to her against their couch as they grounded themselves it occurred to her that despite his personality he was always careful and cautious of her. He was a protector above all, and the care he took to make up for her comparative wealth of experience wasn't just about pride. It was about her.

She recalled vaguely before they had turned to this stage of their relationship that he had been even grumpier then usual. He had been adamant that she was attempting to replace Gin. Likewise he kept insisting that he must have only been replacing Hinamori. But she knew that wasn't true. She had been the rebound many times in her life. This wasn't one of those times. And when the walls around his heart had finally crumbled he had been insistent to make sure she knew that he wouldn't abandon her like the others had them—no matter what the reason.

He hadn't stopped proving that to her to this day. Even now the kisses he lined her neck with lazy attention he held onto her. "I don't want to lose you." He barely spoke against her neck. His voice was weaker then she could ever quite remember hearing it.

Her heart thudded against her chest. To him, she was more then important. She was cherished, treasured even. For all her faults keeping her near him was more important then the possible repercussions should anyone walk through their door. And while would never say what Gin had done wasn't noble, and for the greater good, he had always kept her at a distance even before his allegiance. Maybe it was because he knew what he had to do. Maybe it was because of his fears. She would never know the answer to the reason.

What she did know was that he had never treated her like this. He had never looked at her that he might shatter if she pulled away too quickly. Her captain was more then capable of taking care of himself. But she knew better then anyone that he didn't like not having someone to take care of. And, occasionally, to lend him their strength. It was something she prized herself in being able to do.

It was because of one another they were able to reshape the face of love and find what it meant for it not to end.