Title: Animal Magnetism
Summary: Bazz-B is a distraction.
Pairing: Haschwalth/Bazz-B, everyone/Bazz-B
Notes: I kinda face-palmed at the reveal. Honestly? Buzzard Black? Bazz-B isn't dead dammit. Written due to the lack of fics featuring Bazz-B. I swear, I'm working on everything.
Warning: language, crack
"Would you just stop laughing for two seconds? This shit ain't funny."
Could he? Yes. Would he? Not bloody likely. There was a kind of shameless joy in watching the other man suffer. Call it schadenfreude.
"You should be more considerate of Haschwalth's feelings." Askin tutted.
Bazz-B grumbled rebelliously, "Jugo hasn't felt anything since he's had that stick shoved up his ass."
Askin observed as the other man scrubbed the grout with vicious, bitten curses. It was in fact, quite a nice view.
Stop. He told himself. Therein lies madness. You're just asking for trouble.
Inwardly, he giggled.
He never got the story behind Bazz-B and Haschwalth. Askin hadn't been there since the beginning—close but no cigar. He didn't understand the history behind the two disparate men.
It was true that both were very attractive. But whereas Haschwalth was a marble bust to be worshipped by the adoring masses, Bazz-B was vibrant and alive. There was something intoxicating about the brash young man who moved in a whirl of color. It was as though he'd forgotten they were a millennia old; no longer so young. He was the breath of fresh air everyone craved after eons of stagnation in the Wandenreich and eagerly took up the duties as the chief troublemaker.
The two men were night and day. There would have been no conflict if Haschwalth hadn't taken it up on himself to clean up whatever mess Bazz-B conjured from boredom. Bazz-B was quite gregarious when he wasn't shooting burner fingers at targets. He socialized, sowed chaos as he saw fit but it was becoming abundantly clear that while Haschwalth only cultivated an air of unattainability, Bazz-B was in fact, unattainable.
Askin witnessed it first hand when Haschwalth shamelessly pushed then Vice-captain Hubert into a plume of fire during their first war against Soul Society.
"What? The dude slipped didn't he?"
Askin didn't realize he'd spoken the last bit out loud.
"He thanked you."
The other man's brows stitched together in confusion.
"Hell yeah, I saved his ass from the barbecue."
"...by kissing you on the mouth."
"It's how we did things then."
"You are an idiot." He pronounced in amazement.
Honestly, he'd already forgotten what was so attractive about the redhead in the first place. Except his broad chest, lean body, the long fingers and the fine turn of his wrist. Even the silly Mohawk was starting to grow on him though it made him sad when he saw surviving photos from a time when cameras were new and straight razors were not.
Shaking his head, he pointed out, "what about the time he ran Gremmy through with a sword?"
Mein Gott—that had been a mess.
Even Haschwalth had looked a fraction embarrassed—that is to say, some of his perfectly coiffed hair came loose and fell into his eyes—about it.
"It's not like he needs a body." Bazz-B retorted haughtily, dropping his sponge in the bucket. "I mean good riddance, creepy fucker."
The other Sternritter was correct, for once. Gremmy's idea of personal conduct was not socially acceptable at any means. At the time, Bazz-B had been struck with the moonlit nostalgia of chivalry defending Candice of all creatures when the visionary turned his attention and imagined him with different plumbing.
Haschwalth had not been happy to say the least.
So it was good that Bazz-B kept busy. A busy Bazz-B meant no Sternritter quaking in unholy terror of the grandmaster. The heat needed a minder and that's where Askin came into play.
.
"Do you know why I called you here today?" Haschwalth asked after Bazz-B had been caught trying to feed new recruits their own boots.
"Bazz-B."
The grandmaster tilted his head.
Askin waited for him to speak. He was the observant one. Had to be, to survive in a madhouse of Quincies.
"He is a disturbance."
Well, that was kind of harsh. It wasn't even the redhead's fault this time.
Askin wasn't the usual military stock chosen to be Sternritter. He'd gotten pushed around a little and when Bazz-B had gotten wind of it, insulted his hair and his clothes and decided to give the bullies a taste of their own medicine.
When his explanation was over, the grandmaster nodded as though he'd decided something.
"Askin Nakk Le Varr, you have something I want."
Askin demurred. He recognized desire when he saw it; he just hadn't known then it was never meant for him.
He was young. An entire millennia younger.
"Well, if you'd like I'm sure I can whip up something for you. I'm very discreet."
The expression on Haschwalth's face was one of horror. It was the most sentiment he'd seen in the other man.
"No!" The grandmaster squawked. Calming himself, he continued, "I want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he does not cause trouble."
Ugh.
"I'm sure there are guards better suited to..." Askin appealed when he was cut off with a look.
"There are none like you. You are selfish Askin Nakk Le Vaar, enough that you know not overstep your bounds."
Askin bowed at the backhanded praise.
Coolly, Haschwalth said, "Your duties begin now."
.
Bazz-B was a good friend. He liked him, would have watched his back anyway without being told. Before he left, Askin made sure to kill the mold in the bathroom.
.
He chewed his nails in annoyance as the Shinigami with tacky forehead tattoos blushed and stammered. That one was trouble, he thought, looking through the scope. They were at war. He hadn't realized he was supposed to be watching out for victims from the other side as well.
Moments later, he was sucked into a vortex of light where a very annoyed looking Haschwalth greeted him.
.
Askin bolted to the castle. Of course he did. He was a champion sprinter and could outrun the bestial hollow for maybe two seconds it took for Gerald to notice his panicked flailing and came to investigate.
His gift ball wasn't working. But he noticed that the arrancar had slowed behind him. He threw a hopeful glance backwards and when he did, his jaw dropped at what he saw.
So that hadn't been a block of granite he imagined groaning when he stubbed his big toe.
"No, no, no!" Askin shrieked. "Do not lick him you heathen!"
The arrancar guiltily struck his hands up like he'd been caught raiding a cookie jar.
"I ain't trying to hurt him!"
Oh great, he thought, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
Another one.
"You're a hollow! He's a Quincy!"
When he felt that the blue-haired arrancar backed off to a sufficient distance, he turned Bazz-B over and clicked his tongue at the macabre splatter of gore down the front of his uniform.
"Oy, so is he dead or what?" The arrancar whisper-shouted.
"He's alive." Askin sighed. If he could find Giselle. What the hell was Bazz-B thinking when he confronted Haschwalth? No, scratch that. He wasn't thinking. That was not a surprise.
He nudged the clump of reishi into closing the skin. Blood oozed from between the clots. No, the real surprise was how quickly Haschwalth had turned against him. For as long as he'd known them, the two men had guarded each other, almost to the point of jealousy and obsession.
Yet Bazz-B was still alive...
Askin figured he wasn't relieved of his duties just yet.
"Hey, you listening? I know someone who can fix this."
"Can she grow back an arm?" He asked forlornly at the discarded limb he spied a few feet away.
The arrancar scoffed.
"She can do helluva lot better than that." And the arrancar hoisted Bazz-B into his arms despite his words of caution, jarring the injured Sternritter and causing him to groan in pain. Soon, another sound joined the chorus and in an incredulous voice, Askin asked,
"Are you purring?!"
To his credit, the arrancar flushed.
"It's supposed to help!"
Madness, all of it.
.
Haschwalth folded on his loyalties the last minute.
Kurosaki Ichigo, the boy with the bloodlines to give European royalty nightmares, had saved the world again.
The war was done. Miraculously, at the end of it, Askin Nakk Le Vaar was alive. The heavens might shake and the ground might fall but it was a testament to his survival instincts that Askin breathed free in a healing ward, surrounded by Shinigami and enough steel to launch the industrial revolution.
Askin hummed. Bazz-B was still unconscious but perhaps it was for the best. It wouldn't do to punch holes in their new accommodations.
He leaned against the door to the other Sternritter's room to find visitors already in place, huddled together at his bedside.
"I just want to ask him you know, what he thinks about my other tats."
"Because that really is the important thing right now."
Sighing, Askin rolled up his sleeves preparing a brand of paralytic that wouldn't be lethal, just painful.
.
When night fell, Askin slept on the couch. He didn't need to. The Shinigami had offered him the facilities to refresh himself and rest. But he kept close to Bazz-B. They were the only survivors of their misbegotten war. Possibly, they were the only Quincy left of the old world.
Askin took comfort in the familiar presence of Bazz-B. Granted, the Sternritter was passed out from other reasons such as scrubbing the halls, scrubbing the mess, or the trophy room. Bazz-B was strong, stupid strong, there had never been an opponent who could even dream of doing this.
The boy didn't have a drop of sense in his rooster-combed head. But his heart was in the right place. Maybe he was what tipped the balance in snatching Haschwalth's loyalty from Yhwach.
Speak of the devil, Haschwalth descended on the room like a pale wraith. When he noticed Askin awake, he shook his head once, blood slick across the gold waves.
Haschwalth looked upon Bazz-B's still form with an air of sadness.
Bazz-B cracked open a bruised eyelid and smirked,
"You did it huh?"
"I kept our promise." The grandmaster agreed, eyeing the presence of his right arm and the shiny, new skin under his throat.
Ignoring his presence, Haschwalth sat beside the other man and tweaked at the split ends in his red hair.
"Do not do this to me again Buzzard Black."
"Told ya," the other man slurred, settling down once more. "Call me Bazz."