Thanks for the comments! They make me feel loved. I was a little freaked out when I saw my mailbox filled with Story Alerts and Favorites, but what really warmed my soul were the two reviews I got. Special thanks to Driftinglullaby, bloodytears87, ravensterling123, and with these hands. You have my utmost regard!

KIKIKIKI

Ichigo woke when he felt a large, warm hand smoothing over his back, and another shifting under his knees, as if to pick him up. This, of course, sent him on the defensive. He flailed, only to find himself stuck in a small space and spun as quickly as he could until he could stare at the man who'd been about to pick him up, his slim hands tight on the wheel of the car he was in. Car? He wondered frantically, even as he took in the familiar sight of the blue haired hunk before him. Why am I in a car? Why is the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life scowling at me with eyes that look like he wants to devour me?

… Not that I think that last bit is a bad thing, he reminded himself, enjoying the hot shiver that ran down his spine as well as his ability push back the unpleasant experience that he was remembering in a crash course. Nope, not a bad thing at all.

"Uh, G-Grimmjow, right?" he managed through his suddenly dry throat.

"Yeah, Ichigo," sharp canine teeth were revealed as the detective regarded him with a growing, attractive leer.

The deep tone, an almost purring quality that drifted lightly on his seductive voice caused Ichigo to feel flash fire throughout his body. Oh my god, he couldn't think as he let the man grab his wrist in a strong firm grip, admiring the man's larger callused hands. The things I'd let you do to me… his eyes widened and his breath hitched as he found himself standing next to his blue haired hunk. The things you could do to me without my permission… he shuddered at the thought, swallowing and avoiding the intense gaze that showed the larger man was thinking along the same lines, and the way he flexed just the tips of his fingers against the firm, smooth flesh of the orangette's forearm, he was enjoying said thoughts.

Please don't get hard, please don't get hard, he fervently prayed even as he darkly wished for the man to just ravish him and be done with it.

Feeling himself being led forward, he glanced up, desperately ignoring the heat that suffused his cheeks to note that they were heading into the police station.

"What do I have to be here for?" he found himself asking, sending a confused glance up to the raised brow of the blunette.

"Gotta get yer account o' things too. Ya were involved, someone died; gotta have yer say," he explained, looking over the young art student who was just ripe for the picking.

"O-oh, yeah," clearing his throat, he tried not to squeak when the man drew his callused palm up over his arm to settle his fingers in an almost comforting grip on the back of his neck. "Right."

They were silent again and Ichigo couldn't help but focus on the marvelous feeling of being gripped so firmly by the other male, even as he heard officers call out to Grimmjow in greeting and the low returns of snappy remarks and inside jokes.

"Oi, Grimm!" a young girl with bright blonde locks – were they green tinged? Like when a platinum blonde jumps into a chlorine pool, or was that just the light? – and a single pink eye – the other was covered by a white and red eye-patch – called, voice brash and uncultured; it reminded Ichigo of his younger sister, Karin. "How's Pantera? If he's okay, he's gonna come over!"

Pantera…? At the name the powerful hand on his neck tensed and relaxed, seemingly beginning to massage the younger man's neck without thought; not that he minded, it was a little piece of heaven and he had to start up his mantra again: Please don't get hard…

Who's that? His kid?

If he had a kid that might put a damper on things, depending on whether or not a spouse came with said child.

"Oi," the intonation of the word immediately told Ichigo that the tall, lazy-eyed, handsome, man who came up behind her was her father. "Lillinette, don't I get a say in whether or not he comes over?"

"Īe ," she didn't even hesitate as she said it, leaning back so that the man would pick her up and settle her on his slim hip. "Because everybody knows that I 'wear the pants'."

This caused everybody to laugh, the sound of rumbling velvet covered rocks traveled through the blunette's arm and into the art student's upper body, gaining a grin from him at the infectious, gorgeous sound. To Ichigo's – becoming – sleepy-eyed pleasure, the massaging grip started to travel over his shoulders in a most enjoyable way. He wouldn't mind wherever that hand decided to travel, just so long as…

Heavy breathing in his ear, erratic grinding against his back, helpless shame and disgust roiling in his gut…

Pitching over, covering his mouth at the sudden flashback, he heaved watery, stinging fluids making way from his stomach to his hands which covered his mouth. Well, there goes my sex appeal, he thought shrewdly, distantly aware of arms holding him and hands prying his own from his face and voices rushing around him in a flurry of distracted urgency. When he looked up, his watering gold-brown eyes met with that of Lillinette's soft pink worried one, and he noted that she had been shakily stroking his hair with her tiny, pale hand. As she noticed his attention on her, she smiled, crinkling up the edge of her single eye, and he found himself studying the small girl's eye-patch. The red, he noted, was a flame that stroked up to the darker edges of the mainly white piece, and the string was wrapped like a candy-cane. Within the flame was a character reminiscent to Mr. Yuck from poison labels, with its eyes scrunched up and its tongue sticking out comically.

Finding it in himself to look away from the stubborn innocence in that gaze, he turned and found himself caught in those intense cyan eyes which had so enthralled him from the first moment he'd seen them. Grimmjow's gaze was so focused on Ichigo – as if he were the center of the universe – that Ichigo felt his eyes water anew and had to tear his own away to look anywhere but at the man he was beginning to feel a deep confusion about. He wanted him, that much was obvious, but what did he want from him?

"Yo, Ichigo," that dark voice was low, just barely raised enough for the orangette to hear him, and smooth. "Ya ready ta go ta Starrk's office now?"

"Starrk?" he managed, wiping his mouth with a damp towel that someone'd had the brains to grab for him. "Who's that?"

"Me," the voice of the lazy-eyed handsome man intoned, amused and considering at the same time.

"Oh, sure," even to himself, his voice sounded subdued. "Your office."

Thorough relief flooded through his system as Grimmjow's firm arm banded around his waist to help him stand, and he let himself lean on the man's larger frame with only the slightest bit of embarrassment. Following his relief a wave of fatigued weariness crashed over him, causing a deep sigh to escape his chest; could life get any worse?

He'd been dumped for the billionth time, his friends lacked any sympathy, he gets held hostage and molested, and now he pukes his guts out in the most embarrassing way in front of two handsome guys and a kid. The only consolation he had was that one of said hot guys was again massaging him – this time his side – with his large, warm hand. Through his shock, he only just began to feel the freezing temperature of his body, the cold sweat that now encased him in the A/C'd air of the police departments main faculties. It was nice to feel that comforting kneading in his side, completely different from anything he could remember, it was innately intimate but still it relaxed Ichigo to an extent he hadn't been since before his mother's death.

Which was something he didn't wish to be thinking of at the moment either.

He's only just met the guy, seriously...?

Once they'd entered Starrk's office, the orangette found it in himself to look up and study the tall brunette with the sleepy eyes. If he hadn't already seen Grimmjow, he'd have said that Coyote Starrk was the most attractive man he'd have ever seen; with soft blue-grey eyes that he was sure would burn black if ever filled with passion of any sort. Prominent cheekbones gave a hollow, rough look to his features, the small patch of stubble on his chin giving him a devil-may-care atmosphere. Long, lean build that slouched comfortably showed his defined muscle, and if he were to compare him to Grimmjow, he'd have to say that he was just a more stretched out version of the hunk that was comforting him pleasantly, as he was just a tidbit taller than the man who'd initially caught Ichigo's eye.

Those sleepy eyes focused on him and he found himself being gently pushed down onto a comfortable couch; it was obviously used for on-the-job naps, as proved by the well-used pillow at one end. As the young art student sat, Grimmjow took his place beside him, throwing one leg over the other to cross his ankle at his knee, arm thrown out behind Ichigo in a most possessive manner, causing the orangette to toss him a wry look; it was so obvious how he was feeling towards him. Really, they hadn't even had an actual conversation, and the gorgeous blunette was staking a claim.

It was extremely animalistic.

His primal side liked it, and some of his intellectual side as well.

"So, Grimmjow," Starrk began, leaning back in a comfortable looking office chair, one with significant padding, leaning on the arm with his elbow and propping his chin in his hand. "You just left Tōshirō-kun to deal with this on his own."

"He can handle himself," the deep rumble of annoyance caused Ichigo to glance over at the scowling man beside him with a raised brow. "He's not some punk rookie."

Who were they talking about?

"Sure, he's not some punk, but he's still one person against the possibility of many," those slate eyes hardened and narrowed, pinning the man who was now fiddling with the hairs at the base of the art student's skull - which felt lovely – and Ichigo thought that there was something about this 'Tōshirō' that wasn't in the light as of yet. "You know better," his eyes softened as he glanced at Ichigo, taking in his chocolaty eyes as they became sleepy with fatigue, as well as the remaining glint of shock. "But I'm thinking that Tōshirō-kun knew what he was doing, sending this young man with you. Your name?"

Blinking, it took the orangette a moment to figure out that the man was speaking to him and when he did, he took comfort from the hand playing with his hair and the nape of his neck.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Hajime mashite, I'm Coyote Starrk, and this," the blonde, pink-eyed girl with the eye patch walked in and moved around the desk to plop into Starrk's lap without preamble. "Is Gingerback Lillinette, my daughter."

"Ah, hi," he managed as Grimmjow's hand against clamped to the back of his neck again, massaging in that most enjoyable way. "Nice to meet you."

The girl eyed him critically as she adjusted her position on her father's lap, regardless of whether or not her positioning would be comfortable for the man.

"Are you okay again? You're not hurting?"

"No, no," he shook his head and smiled, enjoying the sensation of those strong fingers sliding over his cool skin. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

The low rumble coming from Grimmjow, Ichigo was sure only he could hear at the level it was at, but Starrk sent the detective an inquiring knowing glance.

"You'll come to find that Grimmjow doesn't take well to false platitudes, Kurosaki-kun," was the commanding officer's amused advice for the attractive youth.

The blunette was just about to open his mouth to argue with the other good-naturedly, when someone shouted out and there was a mess of voices out in the other hall.

"Hitsuguya-san!" as soon as they could hear the name clearly, Ichigo felt Grimmjow tense to spring up and out of the room, and was a bit unsettled by Starrk's reaction.

His blue-grey eyes widened and narrowed, color shifting to icy silver as he bore his teeth momentarily before his expression shifted again to one of bored sleepiness. Setting Lillinette on the floor, he moved towards the door as Grimmjow did the same.

"Hitsuguya-san!"

Well, today was turning out to be more exciting than he'd anticipated.

10101010

Pain threatened to overwhelm him, the forced injections shot wooziness and terrifying lack of clarity through the young man's prodigal body. Oh Kami-sama, he mourned, feeling the palpitations of his soon to fail heart with petrified certainty. At least let me make it back to the station to report…

Stumbling at the pain that shot up his spine, he repressed a whimper to the slightest sound as he managed to focus on the other side of the street.

"I'm here," his relief was palpable and he had to keep himself from relaxing, as he'd have collapsed if he'd let himself rest. "I'm here."

Working his way across the street, he saw some of the patrolmen having some sort of silly, friendly argument.

"I'm telling you, she's never gonna – " the patrolmen halted with a choking sound as the young detective passed him.

"What's wrong…?" the other queried before sighting the bloodied and beaten white haired young man. "Oh my god."

Without pausing, the prodigal officer continued forward, pushing open the door with some effort and a low, pained grunt as his body protested at the motion. He could hear the two patrolmen behind him scrambling after him as he stumbled into the A/C filled front room of the station.

There was silence for a moment before all hell broke loose.

"Hitsuguya-san!" the receptionist cried, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

"Hitsuguya-san!"

His vision blacked out for a moment and he had the oddest sensation of being upside-down on a rollercoaster, but it didn't last long, as he was soon wrapped up in something warm, wiry, and breathing. Whoever this human blanket was, they smelled really good…

"Tōshirō-kun," a familiar low voice queried urgently, following the gentle cadence of his heartbeat and the comforting vibrations of that voice made Hitsuguya shudder and turn his face into the man's chest. "Tōshirō-kun, what happened?"

Happened?

Snapping his clear blue eyes open, he struggled to sit up, only to find himself mostly draped across his superior officer's lap. That's right, he had to report.

"Coyote-taicho," he managed, just barely holding his regular tone, albeit it was a bit strained. "We've been compromised," turning his head to look up into the now identified presence that'd comforted him, the prodigy noted that his moody partner and the cute guy from earlier that day were standing over by the taicho's office.

With Lillinette.

The little girl's single pearl-pink eye was heart wrenching as she took in the bloody sight of the snow-white fukutaicho, clothes torn and eyes unfocused. She'd grown extremely fond of the young man, as if sensing a kinship with the young genius and pouncing on the chance to have more people in her life. She hated being alone.

"Lillinette, I'm okay," he managed, throwing the child one of those smirks he usually reserved for Grimmjow when he wanted to infuriate the man. "Don't frown like that, you'll start to look like Coyote-taicho."

With a nod, she managed to smooth out her features so that only her brow was scrunched up and the white haired young man didn't puzzle over the face that she was now clutching the hand of Kurosaki Ichigo for dear life.

"Tōshirō-kun," returning his wavering attention to the strong form that held him upright and presentable, Hitsuguya barely suppressed a flinch as he felt pain stab through his abdomen. "What do you mean we've been compromised?"

"I know who is now in control of Las Noches," his clear, shaky gaze met with those darkening blue-grays for a moment before he eyelids began to flutter and his body to tremble.

"Tōshirō!" was the lowered urgent, rumbling voice again. "Tōshirō!"

"Aizen-taicho…" he managed. "Has…"

"Where is Szayel? What the fuck is taking him?" he could hear Grimmjow grind out, closer now.

He couldn't be more than 17 inches from Hitsuguya's torso, and thus in his personal space. Someone else, probably the receptionist – he could never remember her name, as it wasn't that important – by the smell of her perfume, was crushing in on his open side, the one not protected by Starrk. Two inches from the lash mark on his lower back that'd slipped around to his hip. Someone else was talking on the phone – he couldn't identify the voice – but they were pacing in short, 12 inch intervals; 3 steps to the left, 1.5 seconds, 4 and a half to the right, 3.64 seconds, spin on heel, repeat. He was quicker moving to the left, probably due to the momentum gained from the quick stop and spin. The heart next to him was beating at slightly abnormal intervals than the norm due to the stress of the situation; 1.5 seconds, 2 seconds, 1 second, 2.5 seconds…

Head throbbing, he moaned softly, unconsciously burrowing closer to his superior officer, whose grip tightened marginally on the small frame in his arms.

"Too many numbers," the young man nearly whined, voice pitched low enough that only Grimmjow and Starrk hear, the receptionist too caught up in her own dramatization of the situation to take note.

"Then stop counting," he thought he heard, but he couldn't be sure.

06060606

He wanted to break something, something valuable, expensive, and hideously gorgeous.

Where's Kuchiki Byakuya when ya need him? He thought with a snarl as he watched Grantz Szayelapporo work quickly and efficiently on the injuries his young partner had sustained. Starrk had been right; he shouldn't have left the creamy prodigy on his own after he'd had to kill someone only minutes before.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Glancing over at Ichigo, who was speaking into his cell softly, Lillinette curled up in his lap, he knew that he really hadn't been thinking at all; he'd been feeling. And normally, this wouldn't have bothered him, he normally acted without thinking about it, but that was out of instinct rather than this instant possessiveness and desire – and not only physical desire, which'd come as a shock, he could tell you – not something that he could rightfully have decided to follow in the circumstances.

Couldn't blame him for his tastes though, Ichigo certainly was a fine catch; he knew he had him, hook, line, and sinker.

The young art student reacted to him instinctively, and he'd made no move to change his willingness to yield to the blunette's possessive advances on his person, even so soon after an assault. Although, there had been that episode an hour or so ago, but he was near positive that'd not been anything to do with the way he'd been touching the orangette at the time.

God he hoped not.

Taking his eyes from the divine image of Ichigo curled up with a child – even if that kid weren't Pantera – the fukutaicho studied his superior officer and sometimes friend.

He didn't believe that anyone else except for himself, Szayel, and possibly Ichigo, had noticed that he hadn't moved more than 15 feet from the abused form of Grimmjow's partner. It wasn't as if the lean, animalistic man could reprimand him about it as he wasn't moving from his position at the young man's feet until he knew that he was going to be okay. If one were to compare it to anything, it would be to an animal protecting its young, or a wounded pack mate.

For Grimmjow it was a case of both.

This was his young partner, and a member of his team.

When he'd first been assigned to work with the kid, he'd been hella pissed off. Why did he have to babysit? He didn't even like working with a partner, and now he had to take care of a rookie?

"What the fuck, Starrk!" he'd growled, leaning on the hand he'd slammed down onto the man's desk when he'd first heard the preposterous news. "I don't work with kids!"

The lazy-eyed man regarded him coolly, leaning back in his comfortable chair.

"Well, you're gonna have to," if Grimmjow hadn't been so furious, he'd have heard the door to his superior officer's office open and close softly behind him. "Because you're the only one I can trust to take care of him properly. Everybody knows that you don't play favorites, and you act the same way with everyone," his glance behind Grimmjow informed the other that someone was in the room. "Like an ass."

Turning, his scowl, which had hardened with fury, slipped just the slightest bit. The kid was quite a sight to behold.

Hitsuguya's left arm was in a sling, casted from mid upper arm over his hand, there were random dark purple bruises sneaking peaks at Grimmjow from beneath the young man's pristine clothes, the majority in shapes that the blunette had become quite familiar with. Somebody had let loose on the kid. Letting his gaze travel up towards the youthful features is what did him in, as he took in the bandaged cheek and the medical eye patch that covered one of his similar crystal orbs, the remaining one challenging him in a most unsettling way, daring him to push him away.

They stared at each other, sizing up an opponent is as close a description as can be given as to how they looked at each other, and it was thanks to this that Grimmjow noticed the slightest sway to the way that the boy was standing, the rapid pulse at his creamy pale throat. On any other day, and if he didn't have to work with the kid, he'd have probably jumped at the chance to mark up the pretty column, but at the moment he was staring at a prospective partner, and one who was about to keel over.

"Sit down before ya fall down, chibi," he smirked, watching that single clear eyes narrow at him, and that soft mouth twitch down into the slightest scowl, one that when released, the detective figured could probably rival his own.

"It's Hitsuguya Tōshirō," that voice could have probably been extremely enticing in the right situation, all soft and light, prim and almost proper, but not quite.

"So, Grimmjow," Starrk interrupted, and something in that familiar gaze caused Grimmjow's mind to screech to a halt at thinking any fun thoughts about his prospective partner. "This is your new partner. Be… Less of an ass, will you?"

Fuck.

Glancing over at that pale visage, the blunette pulled his brows together and scowled even harder at the slight smirk that was lighting up the grim cast to the white haired boy's features.

The kid had guts, he'd give him that.

Aizen was gonna pay dearly for this.

MEMEMEME

If ya'll want there to be a next chapter, I would much enjoy at least 10 reviews! I'm not greedy, but they make me feel like I'm actually writing for someone. Not that Story Alerts, and Fav's weren't nice, but maybe something a bit more personal isn't so hard to ask for?