Searchlight- 8

Adam pulled the curtain back to look out the window of the cheap motel room again. His long red hair hung loose down his back and he ran a hand through it irritably.

"I don't like this," he muttered.

"You don't have to like it," Dante huffed as he fought not to touch the bandages on his chest again. The mark burned like fire and his whole body thrummed with it every time his heart beat. He glanced toward the bathroom where he could hear the water still running. Cole had been half conscious when he'd dragged him out of the abandoned basement and brought him here. But when Dante tried to help him, the redhead had pushed him away almost angrily. In all honesty, he couldn't blame him but it didn't make it hurt any less.

Adam turned and sighed. "You've still got a couple of days of leave but I have to go in. There's no way I can just sit around here." His eyes flicked nervously to the bathroom door.

"Not until we figure things out."

"You think nobody called that in?" Adam said, exasperation bleeding into his voice. "The whole damned house caved in seconds after we got out. I've got to go to the captain and tell him-" He went rigid as Dante's fingers came to rest on the gun in the waistband of his pants.

"Tell him what?" Dante's tone was quiet and dangerous.

"Look. I don't know what the hell it was I saw." The memories alone were enough to make him twitch, not to mention the dead man that was currently taking a shower in the bathroom. But he wasn't going to back down. "You trust your captain, right?" he asked.

Dante's eyes narrowed. "Yeah." And he did, more so than any other superior he'd served under.

"Then let me go talk to him." Adam relaxed a little and let his lips curl in a challenging sneer. "Or would you rather I stayed to baby-sit while you go down to the station?"

Dante didn't want to admit that he was right. He was in way over his head and he wasn't sure he could get out on his own. Captain Wilson knew how to keep a secret. More than half of the cases they dealt will in the squad were full of fairy tale nightmares that would land them all in the loony bin or worse if they told the truth. The Captain knew how to sling the shit and write enough fiction into their reports to let their superiors relax and pretend none of the weirdness existed. Maybe he could help them out of this mess. Dante just wasn't sure. He hardly knew Adam at all but he felt like his back was against the wall.

"Alright." He said finally as he pulled his hand away from his weapon. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a disposable phone. "Use this and don't call my cell. I've been burned that way before."

Adam nodded and gave him on honest, appraising look. "I know you don't really know me. But I'll help you figure this out. I promise." And then he left, checking the parking lot for possible threats before moving into the open.

Dante nodded absently as he moved forward to the lock up behind him, his gaze settling on the bathroom door. The water had been shut off and when the door opened, a cloud of steam floated out to glide along the ceiling. Cole stepped out in the worn jeans and white t-shirt Dante had picked up at a nearby thrift shop. Judging by the reddened shade of his skin, the redhead must have scalded and scrubbed himself raw. But he looked relatively healthy considering that he'd been dead for a month. Cole looked a little lost as he glanced around the room and hugged himself, his hands rubbing up and down his arms.

"Cole, are you-" Dante stopped before he could ask him if he was okay for the fifth time.

"Where are we?" Cole's voice was a rough whisper.

"Motel by the I-5," Dante replied carefully. "Do you remember anything?" He wasn't even sure that Cole knew he'd been dead.

"The Chancelor case. All those ghosts." Cole shivered. "He was pressuring the mayor but he was lying. A rooftop. We were up on the roof of some building." The shiver turned into a shake and Cole's body started trembling harder as he clutched at the fabric over his heart. "He had a gun. He shot. . .I was. . .I was shot." His breath shuddered harshly in his throat. "I-"

Dante watched Cole's eyes widen suddenly as the whites were suddenly swallowed by inky shadows and the usually warm brown was engulfed by a harsh shade of gold.

"I died."

As Cole uttered the words, he sank into himself, drowning in golden shadows. The motel room faded away, leaving a cavernous blackness in its wake. Cole whirled around as he tried to get his bearings in the suddenly unfamiliar surroundings.

"Dante?"

A cold, discordant voice answered him. "He's not here. It's just you and me, King."

"W-what?" Cole stammered. There was something frighteningly familiar about that voice even if he couldn't remember why. He reached automatically for his weapon, but he was unarmed. He wasn't wearing anything except a pair of black jeans. Cursing, he stood straighter. "Who are you?" he shouted into the dark. He wouldn't show it fear, whatever it was.

There was a tsk-tsk sound from the shadows. "So much potential wasted. You don't even know what you've got going for you."

"What the hell are you talking about? Where are you?"

Cole didn't see the shadows parting behind him to reveal a pale figure that could have been his twin in another life. White hair and skin practically glowed and the stranger's golden eyes glinted with mischief and something darker. His colorless appearance was the exact opposite of Cole right down to a pair white jeans. Leaning forward, he whispered in Cole's ear.

"I'll take it from here."

Cole whirled around and lashed out in surprise, his voice rising in a wordless shout. The pale figure caught his wrist easily.

"You can't beat me, King." Yanking Cole close against his body, he practically purred. "And I'm going to take your throne."

"Like hell you are," Cole spat angrily. He had no idea what this thing was talking about but he wasn't about to lose. Twisting free, he kicked out at his double and caught him in the chest. Golden eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled back a couple of steps before they narrowed again in challenge.

"I can't really afford to damage you." Pale lips twisted in a dark expression. "Well, not too much anyway." He shifted and suddenly appeared at Cole's side, his fist slamming into the redhead's jaw. The hit had been hard but not unbearable. Cole reeled back and covered his face with his hands to make his opponent believe he'd been overwhelmed. When his double got close enough, he moved forward in a darting movement and kicked him again.

"Ooo. I knew I liked you for a reason." The pale man cackled, his laugh a warbling distortion that made Cole wince. But the double's expression became serious. "But I really don't have time to play." He dodged another kick and flung his hand out in the air.

Cole was suddenly knocked onto his back and he could feel the press of something invisible holding him down. He couldn't break free no matter how much he struggled where he lay on the floor.

"Naptime," the pale man murmured softly as he clenched his fingers.

Cole's eyes fluttered and he groaned as he felt consciousness escaping him. "No. . ."

"That's it," the pale man crooned. "Just go to sleep." There was another discordant giggle. "I'll tell your partner you said hi."

Cole let out a shuddering sigh as his eyes finally closed. "Dante. . ."

In the motel room, Dante watched in panic as Cole collapsed.

"Cole!" He leapt forward to catch him before he hit the carpet. The redhead's eyes were closed but moving beneath his lids, the movements frantic. "Cole. C'mon, c'mon. Don't do this to me." Dante shook him, terrified that he'd gotten him back just to watch him die in his arms all over again.

Cole took a deep breath before letting it out in a long sigh.

"Dammit, Cole," Dante whispered, hating the desperation in his voice. "You're scaring the hell out of me. . ." He trailed off as the redhead's eyes fluttered open. The inky shadows and golden pupils looked so alien and terrifying in a way Dante couldn't quite grasp. "Cole. . ?"

The leering grin Cole gave him was an expression his partner had never worn before. "Wrong answer, sweetheart."

Dante was flung across the room where he crashed down onto the cheap table that immediately splintered and collapsed under the impact. The landing stunned him and stars burst in his vision. Cole immediately landed on top of him, pinning his body to the floor.

"Cole-" A vicious slap snapped Dante's head to the side.

"I told you," said a warbling, discordant voice. "I'm not Cole." There was another giggle. "But he's safe enough. For now."

An image of Cole appeared in Dante's vision. The redhead was on his knees in the darkness, his arms spread wide above him where trailing red ribbons coiled around his wrists and held him half suspended. His head hung forward so Dante Couldn't see his face.

"What the hell have you done to him?" Dante hissed as the image faded.

"You should be more worried about yourself-" The creature wearing Cole's body suddenly hissed and recoiled as Dante's pendant fell free of his shirt and started to glow. It snarled something incoherent, it's face twisting in rage as it leapt up and crashed out the window. Dante's head was still ringing from the blow but he managed to stumble to his feet. Cole, or whatever had stolen his body, was already gone as he leaned drunkenly against the wall by the broken window.

"Cole. . ." His pained whisper was barely audible.

Dante fingered the pendant and eyed it in surprise as the glow slowly faded away. It was a simple medallion hanging from a silver chain that had been stamped with an ancient symbol for unity. Cole had given it to him about a year ago. They'd just survived one of their toughest cases and it had nearly driven apart for good. But by the end, they had finally begun to understand that neither of them could do this job alone. They were at their best when they worked together.

Dante clenched his fingers around the pendant. It was a twin to the one that Cole had always worn. That one was currently sitting on Dante's bedroom dresser because he couldn't bear to let his partner be buried with it. He stared out the broken window.

"I will find you," Dante swore to the darkness.

"Annnnd, Cut." Urahara was excited enough to head straight for the monitors to see the playback without making his usual comments.

Grimmjow sighed and tried not to frown. He hated it when his character got kicked around so easily.

"Awww, don't pout, Grimmie. This was just the first fifteen minutes of the episode. There's more ass kickin' on the way."

Grimmjow glared over at Shirosaki where he was lounging in a nearby chair. "Don't call me that."

"Get a grip Grimm," Ichigo said as he came back over toward the motel room set. He was brushing stray bits of candy glass off his shirt from where the trick window had broken. "You've been called worse."

"Don't start-" Grimmjow's head jerked back as Ichigo met his gaze. "Take those damn things out," he snapped at him. The black and gold was disturbing enough on Shirosaki. Seeing Ichigo wearing those contact lenses was just wrong.

"What?" Ichigo glanced in a nearby mirror and nearly jumped as badly as Grimmjow had. "Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting and scaring the crap out of myself," he muttered before shaking himself and looking away. "Have to keep them in for now. There's still close-ups and reaction shots to do and they're a pain to put in."

Grimmjow rolled his left shoulder and looked down at the breakaway table. The fall had gone well, but a piece of wood had been digging into his arm during the last part of the scene. There were a few more fight scenes to go and the last thing he needed was another bruise. He wandered over to Urahara who was watching one of the small screens intently. "Do we have to do it again?"

"Hmm?" The director looked up, his expression distracted. "No, no. This is good. Better than expected really so we'll be resetting the squad room for this afternoon." He grinned at Grimmjow. "You might even get out of here on time today."

Grimmjow eyed him warily before heading over to his chair just as his cell phone started buzzing quietly. "What the hell do you want now, Gin?" he muttered before answering, hit tone flat. "What?"

"You know, that's why I work so hard for you Grimmjow. The love is just so overwhelming," came the sweet reply from the man on the other end of the line.

"We're filming. You get me busted for not turning off my cell on the set again, it'll get ugly." As it was, he was keeping his voice pretty low just in case.

"Hmm," Gin hummed thoughtfully. "You know, you might just avoid that by, I don't know, turning it off maybe?"

"Was there a reason you called me or are you just trying be annoying?" Gin had been Grimmjow's agent from the very beginning of his career and he was a pain in the ass half the time. But he'd managed to get him some roles he'd never have been considered for otherwise so he'd stuck with him.

Gin took no offense to the gruff tone and he let out a laugh. "A little birdie told me there's some trouble over in the land of Lumeria. Seems to me that they're in need of another Captain of the Guard."

Grimmjow took a soft breath and held it for a moment while he focused on maintaining his composure. Letting the other man know how much he wanted the part would just give Gin an opening to give him a hard time. The draft of the script he'd read had been passable at first glance but it really wasn't all that impressive. But somewhere along the line while he'd been auditioning for the film, they'd managed to get Unohana Retsu to direct. Whatever she touched turned into pure gold. It could be a scribble of dialogue on a napkin and she'd still manage to somehow turn it into an epic. Cool and confident, Unohana was one of the few people that had ever seriously intimidated Grimmjow.

"Is that so?" he said casually.

"I know you want it, Grimm."

So much for playing it cool. From what Grimmjow had heard through the rumor mill, Unohana had wanted him from the beginning and he was supposed to have gotten the part. But internal politics and a standing studio contract with someone else had cheated him out of the role. It had gone to Kugo Ginjo, much to his annoyance. The man had managed to charm his way into several roles he didn't deserve even though he couldn't act his way out of a paper bag.

Grimmjow wondered what the idiot had done to get himself tossed out this time. It had to have been pretty bad. His temper was pretty fearsome but he was usually way too calculating to let it slip on something like this. Not that it mattered. Whatever it was, the studio execs were probably kicking themselves and that was fine with him.

"And how sorry are they for not casting me in the first place?" Grimmjow asked as a smug smile pulled at his lips.

"The studio said five percent but I believe I can convince them that they're at least ten percent sorrier," Gin said, the grin obvious in his voice. "And if you tell me 'you'll think about it,' I'm coming down there."

"Just tell me where to sign." Grimmjow liked playing hard to get but there was no reason to throw this away, especially since it had already slipped through his fingers once.

Gin laughed. "That's what I thought. Come by the office after you're done for the day and we'll make it official. And while we're at it, what about that other thing?"

Grimmjow frowned. "I really will have to think about that one. It just showed up today and I haven't had a chance to look at it. I'm not endorsing crap I can't stand."

"Fair enough. Think you'll have made up your mind by tomorrow?"

Grimmjow's eyes flicked across the space to where Ichigo was perched on a chair reading a copy of the script and munching on an apple from the craft service table. "Maybe. I'll let you know."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the production assistant approach and politely try to get his attention. He looked new. Ignoring him, Grimmjow started counting to see how long it would take him to give up. "So, Gin. Does Shiba have any openings? I could use a refresher."

"You always take care of your own scheduling," Gin mused thoughtfully. "Who's trying to get your attention? Or maybe I should ask who it is you're ignoring," he said, his tone amused.

Grimmjow let his expression show as much innocence as he could manage. "What? It's a valid question. I haven't been on a horse in almost two years and I'd like to avoid looking like an idiot."

Gin laughed again. "I bet it's a production assistant. You're so mean to them, it's a wonder I can get you any work at all."

"I consider myself a crash course for the industry. It weeds out the weak. If they can handle me, they'll be able to deal with just about anything."

Something cool and wet suddenly hit Grimmjow's temple, making him whip his head around and snarl instinctively. But the flare of temper quickly faded into mild irritation. There was an apple core on the ground at his feet and Ichigo was staring at him intently. When the redhead saw he had his attention, he nodded pointedly to the assistant who looked a little terrified like he wanted to run but was afraid to draw their attention. A couple of years ago, he would have been right to be scared. As it was Grimmjow merely narrowed his eyes at Ichigo who just gave him a flat look in return.

"If you could tear yourself away Grimmjow, there's this new thing the rest of us are participating in. It's called work. Maybe you've heard of it," Ichigo said dryly.

"So says the one sitting on his ass doing nothing."

Ichigo sat back and clasped his hands over his middle. "Hey, it's not my close-ups they need to work on," he said, his tone smug as he nodded at the set. There were several people looking in their direction.

Grimmjow sneered and took his time ending the call with Gin who was hooting with laugher on the other end of the line. He must have had the volume turned up to hear all of that. Grimmjow continued to ignore the production assistant who still stood frozen in place but Ichigo took pity on him. With a wink and a smile, tossed the young man the leather jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair.

"Would you do me a favor and take that to Ulquiorra for me, Hanataro? There's a small tear in the seam and I need it for this afternoon."

Hanataro nodded gratefully and fled.

As Grimmjow stalked back toward the set and the techs who were waiting for him, he chuckled. "You're such a sucker."

"No, it's just that being a bastard isn't a hobby for me." The quirk of Ichigo's lips made the insult a little less biting and Grimmjow laughed.

. . . . . . .

Later that evening when the filming had ended for the day, Ichigo was wondering who Grimmjow had been talking to on the phone. His voice had been low and the noise from the set had been too loud to hear. Despite how much of an ass he'd been before going back to work, Grimmjow had been really happy there for a minute. He'd covered it pretty well but the surprised smile that had bloomed on his face had been genuine.

Grimmjow had already left the set by the time Ichigo was finally finished for the day. Instead of going home, he stopped in Grimmjow's apartment first and let himself in. They'd long since traded keys. Night had fallen outside and the lights were on in the living room casting soft shadows on the slightly shabby but comfortable furniture.

"Grimm?"

"Hey, I'm in the bedroom," Grimmjow called from the other room. "How do you feel about dinner tonight?"

"Eating out or ordering in?" Ichigo asked as he toed off his shoes and draped his jacket over the back of a chair. They'd been having a lot of takeout lately and they should probably just stay in so he could cook something.

"It's up to you," Grimmjow said as he came down the bedroom hallway texting on his phone.

Ichigo took the time to admire the casual grace of his walk as he padded across the floor toward him. Then his nose twitched as he noticed a new scent in the room. Grimmjow wasn't looking at him but he could swear the other man was watching his reaction carefully. When he got close enough, Ichigo breathed in as subtly as he could. There was a warm, masculine scent that had almost primal undertones. It sent a small shiver through him and desire quickly won out over curiosity as he closed the distance and pressed himself into Grimmjow. Ichigo turned his face and nuzzled his favorite spot just under the other man's jaw.

"Oh my god, you smell good." he murmured, giving up on being subtle and inhaling deeply. The new cologne Grimmjow had put on blended with his own natural scent somehow and almost seemed to enhance it. The shiver sliding deliciously down Ichigo's spine had him pressing closer. It was almost like when the scent of his favorite food made his mouth water except this had nothing to do with that kind of hunger. "What are you wearing?"

Instead of answering, Grimmjow made a call on his phone. "Hey, Gin. About that other thing. Yeah, it's definitely a go," he said with a satisfied smile. Tossing the phone onto a nearby shelf, he wrapped his arms around Ichigo who was having a hard time keeping himself from stripping him right then and there. Grimmjow chuckled, obviously noticing his dilemma as he leaned in to kiss him.

When they came up for air, Ichigo swallowed hard. "Whatever it is, you are so not allowed to wear it to work," he said breathlessly. "I'd never get anything done."

"It's a new label and they were shopping for a

spokesmodel."

"Thought you were too good for commercials."

Grimmjow shrugged. "They made a really good offer. But I told them I wouldn't do it unless I got a sample first." He grinned down at Ichigo. "It's called Pantera."

"Hmmm," Ichigo hummed appreciatively as he inhaled again and thought of sinuous jungle cats stalking their prey. "It's like they bottled you."

Shifting his hips forward, he rocked against Grimmjow's thigh. Ichigo crowded him a little and forced him back a few steps until the back of Grimmjow's legs hit the arm of the couch. With a possesive little growl, the redhead pushed him so he ended up sprawled back on the cushions. Grimmjow's brows rose slightly as Ichigo crawled after him and straddled his hips.

Grimmjow groaned as Ichigo leaned down and attacked his neck, nipping and licking with teeth and tongue. But when he slid his hands up the redhead's back, Ichigo caught his wrists and raised his arms up to pin them to the cushions above his head. Grimmjow bucked his hips up, not at all bothered by Ichigo taking the lead. It didn't happen often but he liked seeing those rare moments of intimate aggression. And it was an interesting and rather arousing change of pace. When Ichigo pulled back to look at him, the golden flecks in his warm, brown eyes smoldered. There was a fire in him that burned steady and bright and Grimmjow found himself being drawn in.

Heat was pooling in all the right places and his body was on fire. He clenched his fingers and twisted a little on the couch as he tested the younger man's grip. Ichigo's lips curved in a deliciously wicked smile as he squeezed Grimmjow's wrists and braced one foot on the floor to use the leverage to keep him pinned.

"Not this time," murmured as he nibbled at his lips and shifted his hips where he sat. Ichigo's breath was a warm whisper against Grimmjow's mouth as he spoke. "I've got you right where I want you."

Grimmjow growled low in his throat in both acknowledgement and challenge. Right now his body was telling him it wasn't such a bad thing to be caught. He'd been mostly joking when he offered to let Ichigo tie him up but he was seriously reconsidering the idea.

Grimmjow had always had a dominant personality which was part of why the two of them had clashed so much in the beginning. Ichigo was no pushover and refused to give in to him like most other people did. At first, it had seriously pissed him off but Grimmjow had come to respect Ichigo's strength, his passion, his drive. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to submit to anyone else.

Ichigo squeezed his hands again and pressed Grimmjow's arms into the couch, silently telling him to stay put before letting go. He worked Grimmjow's shirt up his body and pulled it over his head before knotting it around his wrists and loosely binding his hands. Ichigo sat back and kept his eyes on him as if looking for some sign that he should stop. Arching his back and exhaling slowly, Grimmjow tilted his head and bared his throat, offering himself to whatever he wanted to do to him. There was a soft shuddering sound from the redhead above him and Grimmjow had to swallow. If he got any harder, it was going to hurt.

Ichigo was practically shaking where he sat perched on top of him. Leaning in, he licked a long trail up the exposed flesh of Grimmjow's neck before scraping his teeth lightly over his adam's apple. Grimmjow couldn't suppress the moan that rumbled in his throat. He shifted, his body flexing as Ichigo moved back and unhooked his belt so he could pull down his jeans. Grimmjow almost growled again as the redhead got up off the couch completely without finishing what he'd started. He was left laying mostly undressed with his hands bound and his pants tangled around his knees where they were propped up on the arm of the couch.

Ichigo stood staring down at him, his pupils large and dark as his eyes raked greedily over Grimmjow's body. Grimmjow wasn't going to beg but he felt his hips rising almost unconsciously as the cool air ghosted over his exposed flesh. He wanted to be touched. Ichigo's lips twitched in a small smile as he undressed. Slowly. Grimmjow's fingers clenched into fists and he licked his lips as he watched the redhead pull the shirt up, exposing his torso one agonizing inch at a time. When the garment was discarded, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly parted. Grimmjow's gazed locked on his mouth as the tip of Ichigo's tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip.

Ichigo's pants were next. Grimmjow had to fight to keep himself laying on the couch as he watched and the strain of it tightened his whole body while his breathing became deep and heavy. Ichigo's smile widened as he unbuckled his belt and started to slowly shimmy out of his jeans. They were so tight, he practically had to peel them off. When he was completely nude, he didn't come back over immediately. His hands began to roam his own body, sliding up his thighs and hips, over his abdomen and up his chest. Grimmjow was riveted to the sight, his fingers flexing as if he were the one touching him. His hands knew that body as intimately as his own and the tactile memories reverberated through him.

Only when he was nearly reduced to panting did Ichigo finally come closer. He settled on his knees next to the couch with one hand splayed over Grimmjow's abdomen as the other cupped him gently. Grimmjow blew out a huffing breath as the gentle touch sent shockwaves through his body. He was so worked up that he let out a strangled cry as Ichigo's mouth closed over him. Hot and wet, he swirled his tongue while the thumb of the hand on Grimmjow's abdomen made small circles around his belly button. The rough, calloused pad distracted Grimmjow as his suddenly sensitized skin reacted. Ichigo's other hand squeezed gently.

Grimmjow was losing his mind. He twisted his hands in the knotted shirt and felt the press the fabric holding his knees together. The steady pressure of Ichigo's hand on his stomach kept him from pushing up and bucking wildly into his mouth. The sudden suction made his eyes roll as his breaths came in ragged pants. With an inarticulate growl, he body went rigid as he came.

Grimmjow was a shuddering mess as he relaxed bonelessly into the cushions and he barely registered the breathy groan from that came from Ichigo as he finished himself and slumped down to the floor. When Grimmjow's vision cleared, he could see him curled up next to the couch, his face relaxed and pleased. Working his hands out of the loosely knotted shirt, he reached down and smoothed a hand over the orange spikes.

"I'm gonna have them send me a whole case of that shit," he said, his voice tired but satisfied.