Author's Note: So, this one went up a little quicker than the last one. Awesome, but after this another update will might take a while. Yeah, I'm going to throw the phrase – REAL LIFE SUCKS – out there. It's self-explanatory.

Disclaimer: I only own the plot of this story and the unrecognizable characters. I write to entertain.

Warnings: Rated for excessive swearing and later scenes involving violence and sexual stuffs.

Gigs from Hell

Chapter 11 – Back In Black

With Rylie pushing up against me for hours yesterday my testosterone began peaking at world record levels. I can feel new hair sprouting on my chest, if that gives any indication.

But unfortunately, with the recent turn of events, I'm finding myself more or less depressed about Fidelity Flux's current situation. A couple hours after the incident I sought out Rylie and asked her just what she planned to do.

"I don't know. I gave the serial number to the police but there's no way they're going to be able to find it," Rylie tells me, sniffling, her eyes red and puffy. She hands me a replica of what she gave to the authorities, every bit of information about her bass that anyone would ever want to know is on it. The wood it was made out of, model, finish and serial number are all jotted down on the slip of paper torn out of her sketchbook.

"I-I'll find it for you. We'll get it back," I say to her. As soon as the words leave my mouth I cringe. It is perhaps the stupidest thing that I have said to her yet but it came out and now I can't take it back. Shit, shit, shit! As if she doesn't feel bad enough already! But, it's impossible to take words back and swallow them so I hang my head in embarrassment and inwardly groan.

She shakes her head sadly and smiles weakly at me to show she appreciates my words. But she knows as well as I do that once an instrument is stolen there is virtually no chance in hell of it being found again. There are literally dozens of Rics in the United States that look exactly like hers. Hell, Rics are played everywhere, from the punk scene to Christian churches.

When the hubbub about the van's break-in blows over to some degree I return to the hotel room I share with the rest of Beck. I sit on the rat infested couch and think about Rylie's predicament. Without a bass her band was in deep trouble. And she couldn't just ask to use someone else's. For a moment I thought about lending her my StingRay but I quickly dismissed the idea. For one thing she wouldn't take it and for another she would probably have troubles playing it since she wasn't used to playing such a wide neck. A Rickenbacker was her kind of electric bass. It was her ideal. But, they were damn expensive in the States, even more so than my MusicMan brand spanking new and the chances of getting the money for another one soon were slim to none. It would take months to get that kind of money. Maybe even a year. And that was assuming you had a job...not touring on your life savings in a beaten up van with eight other people.

I sigh and tell the boys I'm going back outside. Once I breathe the fresh air I walk to the back side of the hotel and sit on a slab of concrete, pull out a cigarette, and light up. Five long drags later I'm wondering if Rylie would be mad at me for smoking, even though I'm pretty sure I haven't had a cigarette in at least a week. Usually I only smoked when I was stressed out or needed to calm myself down before and after a gig. Being on a touring budget cigarettes weren't a necessity and were looked over.

Wait, this is Rylie's problem, not mine. I didn't need to be worrying about a damn thing. Hell, I didn't even need to give it any thought. But, her band has been kind to us by actually allowing us to van-pool with them. Okay, so the majority of the band had been nice to us. Rylie's drummer was eying Chiba with the intent of ripping his ball sacks off and throwing them onto the highway. Indeed if she had acted upon that intent it would be very bad for Chiba.

"But, why am I freaking out about this?" I ask myself. I kept wracking my brain for a compromise. If I lent her money would she be able to do a lease to own deal? Yeah, right, that would definitely work well. Maybe I could steal a bass for her like Ryusuke stole guitars, would she be mad? Probably. Would I regret it? Hell yeah. "I should be worrying about other things…um…" Shit. Like what? I took another long drag and ran my hand through my bleached hair. The roots were showing again. A small problem next to Rylie's.

"Oh, hey Taira, smoking up a storm I see," Saku jokes as he comes down the steps behind me. Here I thought I had found a secluded area where nobody would find me. Then again it's Saku. He just shows up when you need him.

I stand up to face him and his face seems to fall when he sees mine. "Dude, you look really stressed out."

Just by looking at his perplexed face I know he wants to ask what's wrong with me. Thankfully, he holds his tongue knowing that if he asked outright he wouldn't get an answer. Or I would deny that something was wrong. Of course, knowing Saku he's already figured it out by now and is, like me, trying to come up with a solution. I give my head a shake to try and clear the headache that has started up then drop the cigarette into an ashtray that the hotel staff had placed by the building.

"Chiba's running around like a mad man trying to find you. Apparently you disappeared off the face of the Earth."

I shrug, "Oh, why's that?" Didn't he know my cellphone number?

"He wanted to know if you were willing to go down to some bar he found while walking around earlier. I'm a minor so…" he trailed off with a goofy smile. He had the easy way out.

"When's he going? And why couldn't he just call my cellphone? Didn't he get one just to keep in touch with us?" I ask Saku who's in a daze staring off into the distance, doubtlessly thinking about his girlfriend back in Japan.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Remember, he also said that this way he could give girls his number," Saku laughed. "Anyway, he actually did try phoning you. Were you talking on your cellphone all day or something? Well, Chiba said he wanted to go later tonight and preferably with Ryusuke."

"With Ryusuke?"

"Don't ask. Something about sucker punching him while drunk."

"Eh, never mind then."

It isn't long before Sakurai leaves to seek out better (less depressing) company. I pull out my cellphone and flip it open in one swift motion. Instead of lighting up like a Christmas tree and showing its usual background it is black and very much dead.

Stupid piece of shit was turned off.

Quickly I turn it on and wonder if Rylie had been trying to reach me. Then I mentally smack myself for doting on her too much. It isn't healthy. It couldn't be healthy. I need to find Chiba and ask him politely to smack some sense back into me. So I go find him.

Later on I find myself walking to some bar a few blocks from the hotel with Chiba and Ryusuke. By the time we arrive at this bar I realize that we left minors unattended back at the hotel. Oh well, as long as Saku and Koyuki stay well enough away from Ritsu we should be okay. Hopefully.

Ryusuke has already set his sights on some girl's ass and has moved away from Chiba and I in order to pursue. So really it's only me and Chiba sitting at the bar drinking, waiting for some band neither of us have ever heard of to come on stage and rock. Or not rock if that might be the case. Some of these American bands belong in their garage and not even in the dingiest of venues.

"Yo, Taira, ya gonna mosh with me tonight?" Chiba asks with a huge grin. I turn to him at a snail's pace and raise an eyebrow at his proposition. No, I am not going to get elbowed in the face and kicked in the groin tonight, thank you very much Chiba.

He shrugs nonchalantly, "Well, whatever." Then he throws his head back and takes a huge swig of beer, practically drowning himself in the murky substance.

I stare at my own beer, thinking about just what stuff the bartender could've thrown in there. For all I know there could be laxatives mixed in and I wouldn't know until later. Since Ryusuke is going to get hammered and Chiba will probably be a little tipsy himself I designate myself as the guy who has to show some restraint. When am I not that person?

Chiba whistles at a few girls that walk past us, earning glares from their boyfriends and repulsive faces from the girls. This was usually how he got a fight going outside of the mosh pit. He hit on chicks so far out of his league that they were pretty much on another planet altogether. But, you never say that to your best friend. Besides, that would ruin the fun of watching Chiba kick some poor sap's ass and then pile drive him into the concrete. Being in this band has given me a sick sense of humour.

Soon enough Ryusuke returns to us with a girl hanging off his arm giggling and whispering slurred English into his ear, both looking rather smashed. Chiba makes a face at the nauseating sight of them just as Ryusuke announces that we can leave without him. Then without any additional choice words to us he turns around and leaves with the girl altogether. He's probably going to end up screwing her in her car. Not that I really cared. For me it's just one less person to drag back to the hotel by their hair. Chiba on the other hand is pissed off, the usual when Ryusuke scores.

"Ugh, wanna go backstage and see if the band has any blonde American groupies around?" Chiba asks me. I shrug; I'm not interested in chicks that fling themselves on several different guys all at once. But nonetheless I follow Chiba and find myself backstage where the only guy in the room is one big fat guy who's passed out in what looks to be his own vomit. Well, that's a nice surprise.

Chiba's got this wolfish gleam in his eyes and I figure he's either going to break out a Sharpie marker and draw on the bloke or turn around and smash something just for the sake of amusing himself. He walks around the small room with his beer swinging back and forth, just slightly amused by his findings. He motions to me to come over with an impatient wave of his hand. I'm hovering in the doorway wondering where the band is. Looking over my shoulder shows me nothing but an empty corridor.

"Seriously come here Taira and check out this guitar! It looks just like Koyuki's."

I walk over to where he has crouched near the guitar and I stop him just before he goes to pick it up. "Dude, don't touch that, it's not yours." I feel like I'm scolding a little pre-school kid.

"But the owner's not here right now. Can't I just-"

"No," I say firmly. He pouts. I should mention his pout has about as much effect on me as a bunch of kids with a plate full of spinach in front of them. Very unappetizing. Unless, of course you like spinach in which case I have nothing against you or your spinach.

"Come on Taira, live a little ya dead sack of beans!"

I'm a what now? I glare at him and can't suppress an indignant snort. My mind races for a comeback but what he said struck me as so bizarre that I really have nothing to say to him. He must have reached that amount of alcohol that loosens up his thoughts, blurring them together in a mass of confusion. Next he'll be leaning on me and complaining about how Ryusuke always sleeps around in a slurred and disoriented way. Thing is, he actually cares about Ryusuke deep, DEEP down inside; he doesn't want him to contract STDs. Or whatever he told me last time he was drunk off his rockers.

"Don't tell me you don't want to touch that electric guitar over there," he points behind me and I turn my head to look in the direction he's pointing his middle finger. That's his favourite finger after all.

"Idiot that's not a guitar that's a…" I trail off and stare.

He prances over to it and picks it up before I can protest. Then he flings the strap over his shoulder and proceeds to do the strangest little butt wiggle motion ever done by a rapper. "Oh, I'm sorry it's a bass guitar. Dude, you get so offended."

"Chiba let me see that-"

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MOTHERFUCKERING PUNKS THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH THAT!"

Seems like the guy who was passed out is now teetering back and forth on his feet. His face is still caked with a pinkish-green tinged funky smelling substance. I don't want to know what he ate before he upchucked. Then I realize that he must be part of the band. Because one of the two other guys that walk through the doorway and join us backstage is holding drumsticks. I notice queasily that all three look fucking pissed out of their minds. This is most certainly a death metal band.

The tension in the air is suffocating me. They're blocking the doorway, our only escape route.

"Chill out. We were just looking at your guitars man," Chiba starts unperturbedly, taking the bass off and holding it in his hand like a weapon. He has sobered up a little upon being threatened. I, however, can not stop staring at what he's holding, not because I am oblivious to the danger in front of us but…

Because he's holding a Rickenbacker. And not just any Ric either. It's a right-handed 4001 in the ever popular Fireglo finish and my mind instantly wonders how much he would be willing to sell it for. In the stalemate I had run the question through my head a few times to iron out the kinks in my English. For Rylie I pop the question that could have us decimated on the spot.

"Hey, how much do you want for this bass?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral when I feel like screaming. Chiba fixes a shocked face on me and I feel his confused stare boring into my skull as he wonders if I've had too much to drink. Out of the corner of my eye I see his jaw go slack and his eyes widen. His eyebrows are so far up on his head that if he raised them any higher they'd go skyrocketing off into outer space.

One of the three of them steps forward. He's the skinniest but the tallest with a red Mohawk and a huge nose piercing. Everything about him is menacing, even the glint his nose ring is giving off has an ominous shine. He would look like a bull but he lacks the muscle.

"My guitar isn't for sale to a Japanese kid like you," he sneers, spitting out his words in distain. I struggle to keep my face poker straight. It's hard because now I want to punch his lights out. Chiba twitches but somehow he holds himself together. Thank you Chiba, thank you.

My voice comes out tighter than before, "Look man just name a price."

He's silent and his friends are bristling beside him waiting for him to command them to beat us up. But, my serious voice must be reaching him because he seems to be considering my offer to buy his bass. His face has gone blank and I speculate what he could be thinking about. Two guys just messing around with a band's equipment was not something just anyone took without due consideration.

"You can have it after the gig for $4000."

I wince; that's more expensive than buying it brand freaking new and he knows it. I'm about to tell him as much when Chiba sidles up beside me and asks me very, very simply in Japanese:

"What the fuck Taira?"

One of the cronies steps forward and sticks up his middle finger at us, pointing menacingly with the sickest smile I have seen since the time Chiba beat up the bully that had been harassing Koyuki at school. Speaking of Chiba he lets out a snarling sound like Beck when Koyuki tries to pet him and pushes the bass into my chest, probably so I could use it as a weapon. At least that's probably what he wants me to use it for. As he moves forward and rolls up his sleeves so as not to soil his sweater I wonder just what the hell I should do. Take the bass and run, stash it and then come back for Chiba or throw it down and fight alongside Chiba right now and hope for the best? I decide to try and salvage the situation, because that is what I am good at doing.

I hold the bass out in front of me, gripping it on the body, offering it, "Here take it and we'll leave quietly, okay?"

They aren't satisfied with that. We've ruffled their fur too much and now they want some retribution. But, before they advance on us, the guitar slips a little in my sweaty hands and instinctively I look down to get a better hold to avoid dropping it on my toes.

Then I see the serial number on the back of the bass. It's the same as the one on the piece of paper Rylie showed me this morning.

…

Shit.

It is Rylie's.

"FUCK!"

My sudden venomous shout captures the attention of everyone in the room and they all stare at me, the skids in shock and Chiba in… well, extreme shock since I never swear out of the blue like this. Poor guy almost certainly thinks I've hit the loony bin now. But that is not the case.

No, I haven't snapped. I have fucking snapped.

I hastily lean the bass against a wall and I go, go, go. Right past Chiba and right up to Mohawk and glare him down. I can smell the stench of alcohol on his breath I'm standing so close to him. Or maybe that's my breath? We would be eye to eye if he weren't taller than me. He bares his teeth but I sense much fear in him. His eyes say he is petrified by my bi-polar antics.

"Chiba, these are the guys that broke into the van!" Chiba gives me a perplexed frown and I turn back to Mohawk, "You fucking stole my girl's bass," I explain plainly. He drops his stance in surprise. His eyes widen and that's all it takes for me to know that I'm right. It's more than a gut feeling.

I punch him square in the jaw and clip his nose before turning my fist sideways. A nauseating crunch like eating stale cereal resounds around the small room. I know I've successfully used a nose-breaking trick, one that I regretfully learned from Chiba. He tumbles backwards and into the besotted guy and they fall in a heap on the cement floor, with the snap of a skull hitting ground. The drunken guy is down for the count. His drummer though is on me, landing a punch to my stomach that takes my breath momentarily. I stagger backwards in a hunch but before I can recover he jumps on me and tackles me to the ground, me under him. I'm pinned and breathless, grunting like a morbid animal and struggling to punch him off of me or grab his arms and roll him over.

He manages to land one more punch, this time to the right side of my forehead and I struggle just to keep from plain out attacking him with my teeth. Which would not be cool. But then, lo and behold Chiba, in all his pent-up-energy glory, kicks him off me and I breathe in air again tasting its sweet non-taste.

If I say Chiba isn't an amazing fighter I'd be lying. He has that drummer on the ground in two seconds after slamming him into a wall and then proceeding to give him a sideways punch to the head. As I lay on the floor I realize I'm kind of jealous of his moves.

But, I couldn't watch him in awe now. Not with the Mohawk bassist – no, just assist, he doesn't deserve to be called a bassist – advancing on me, blood spurting out of both his nose and mouth. I decide on a whim that now is definitely the time to try out one of my best friend's Karate kicks. It works, for the moment, as I knock him down and Chiba violently repeats my kick (his is so much better) to his stomach while he lies crumpled on the floor. He doesn't move any more.

We have lucratively kicked their asses. I grin like a crazed hooligan and Chiba gives out an enthusiastic whoop. We exchange a double high-five. Life is good. For a couple seconds.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" The drummer screams at us as he stands, albeit shakily and snatches the Telecaster from the guitar stand, intending to play whack-a-mole with us. Chiba's at my side and we wait for the guy brandishing the guitar to make the first move.

I can hardly believe our luck when he takes a step forward and trips on a cable that must have been running from the light above us to the wall outlet on the other side of the room. In the few fleeting moments that he is airborne and falling fast I envision Koyuki in his place and let loose a snort of laughter just before he hits the ground. Oh Koyuki, if only you knew how much you have imprinted on me.

While I stand there like a child watching a circus act Chiba sprints forward, picks the guitar up, and holds it over his head, hesitating to bring it down. He was just daring that guy to move. But, like the loser that he was the drummer squeaks pathetically and curls into a spastic ball on the ground.

Then he vomits and passes out. I feel like retching as well after being a witnessing to that. Here I was expecting some kind of dramatic last testament. But, this is pathetic.

We stand unmoving for a second and I stare at the mess we made. The room is a little scuffed up, there's a hole in the wall where Chiba slammed the drummer and drool from the drunken band member is starting to make a puddle on the floor mixing with the dark bloodstains on the floor and the disturbing green tinged brown stuff seeping from the drummer's mouth. Then Chiba turns to me.

"Your girl's guitar?" he questions me with a smirk now that the immediate danger is over. He does a very suggestive eyebrow-waggle at my expression of innocence.

"Bass," I correct him hastily, moving to pick up said instrument. I find relief when I don't spot any huge new blemishes but the bottom is slightly dinged. I frown but look around the room packed with random supplies and empty beer boxes and locate a case. I open it and place the bass inside it. It fits perfectly and I figure it too must be Rylie's so I close it and pick it up, intending to leave with it.

Chiba stares, "So wait, you're just going to take that?"

"Yes, it belongs to someone else," I tell him with a roll of the eyes. Why does he think I made such a scene? Honestly, I don't generally do things without a reason.

He stares down at the Tele in his hand, "Then can I take this too?"

I glare at him, "No, that would be stealing!"

He fixes me with a pointed look, "But isn't that what you're doing now?"

I sigh heavily. "I'm returning. That's different."

He grunts but walks over and finds a case for the guitar, placing it in, and closes it up. But just as he starts walking away I acknowledge the plain truth. The guitar is more than likely stolen as well. Once a guitar thief, always a guitar thief.

"Actually Chiba lets turn in that guitar to the police or something," I tell him. I don't care at this point whether or not the guitar actually belongs to the band. I'm just craving some retribution. If we turn the Tele in it could very well end up in some aspiring young musician's hands. Who knows? On the other hand it could also end up rotting in someone's closet.

He freezes, "You serious?" I nod. "Whatever. You're damn crazy. I say we sell it and make a profit!"

"Just grab it," I mumble turning around. He obliges without another word out of our bond as best friends. He can tell by my tone of voice that I'm deep in thought about other matters.

I step over the unconscious drunk, the third band member, clutching my prize close to my chest and exit the backstage area trying to remain inconspicuous while searching for the back door to this place. Chiba however steps on and over the guy producing a revolting squelch sound from his stomach that also serves to break my adrenaline-filled concentration and cause me to realize something.

"Oh my God, what have we done to them?"

Chiba turns to me and gives me his best 'you're an idiot' face, "We kicked ass!"

After twenty or so minutes of debating what to do with the Telecaster Chiba finally caves in and we decide to leave it outside nearest the police station with a note that said quite simply that it should be donated to somewhere in broken English. Why did we do that again? I don't even know. Revenge I guess. But, I think this one good deed left me feeling better about knocking some strangers senseless. Now I walked with renewed purpose. To reunite my baby with her baby.

When we at last arrived back at the hotel I told Chiba to go back to the room and sleep while I dropped off the bass. He shrugged and told me not to have sex because he wanted me to be able to drive to our next destination on the tour tomorrow. Typical Chiba, worrying about me and my lack of sleep.

I scale the stairs of the hotel with Chiba until we part ways at the fourth floor. Then, it's up to the fifth floor and down to the door of Rylie's band mates. They have two rooms booked and I'm fairly certain Kim is sharing with Chi. Hopefully I can guess the right door on the first try.

Suddenly I realize how foolish I am for coming up here so late at night. In fact it's so late its morning already. Tentatively I turn back the way I've come, swinging the bass case around in an arc, checking to see if anyone is wandering the halls. Instead of trudging down the stairs and admitting to Chiba that I'm a bit of an idiot I weight the odds that maybe she'd be awake at this hour… whatever hour this is. So, with that ridiculous notion firmly seeded in my head I knock softly on what I hope is her door.

No answer.

She's asleep no doubt.

I knock a little louder. And a little louder. And a quite a bit louder still since I am desperate to go back to Chiba empty handed, the sign that I did the deed right after all that. So I continue to knock, my eyes straying down the hallway as I keep watch for nosy neighbours and the like.

Suddenly I'm knocking on thin air and I snap my head back to see that Ritsu is in the doorway, her face twisted into an ugly mix of sneer and glower. I step backwards. She is braless in PJs with bunnies on them which really contradicted her and her hair is only slightly less icky than Ryusuke's in the morning. I open my mouth wide and then close it when I realize I have no words to say at the moment. Like a fish out of water I stutter and gasp for air.

"What the fucking hell do you fucking want?" she snaps. Her scraggily body contorts with fury. She is seething.

"Uh, Rylie," I say.

She looks me up and down with piercing yet blurry eyes. I don't think she recognizes me. "Everyone wants Rylie you pervert! Get the fuck out of here before I kick your balls in!"

I shudder, "N-No! No, no! I mean I need to s-speak to her!"

"Fuck you! It's two in the morning! Leave! Or do you need me to show you where the fucking stairs are and push you down them?" She advances and for one horrific moment I'm positive that she plans to go through with everything she's promised me. She really doesn't recognize me at all…is she even awake?

"Okay! Okay, fine. I'm leaving."

No sooner do the words leave my mouth that she slams the door in my face. I stand very, very still and stare straight ahead at the place where that scary woman stood seconds ago. I could have lost my manhood. Just like Rylie's cat Ralph.

I sigh dismally and pace a few feet from the door, bass case in hand. I wonder if Ritsu even noticed I had it. I should have said something about it…how stupid could I get! I walk back over to the door, weigh the pros and cons of knocking and finally decide that the pros far outweighed the cons. But when I raise my fist to knock the door slowly and creakily opens.

I won't fabricate the truth for the sake of saving my pride since it's already wounded. I thought I was going to fucking die by a percussionist's hands.

But, instead of Ritsu it's Rylie clad in similar pyjamas. Except hers are a lot more sexy and the neckline is a lot lower I notice with manly-excitement. She's bleary eyed and obviously only half awake.

I grin, "Rylie!" Let me stand next to your fire, thank Hendrix!

"Taira, what are you doing here! It's the middle of the night for God's sake! Ritsu told me you were out here and needed to talk. Couldn't it have waited until morning?" Oh, so she knew it was me? This whole time? Shit, I really underestimated Ritsu's extreme dislike for my band.

I felt my smile recede a little at her words and my face heat up to match what I was feeling below the waist. But, it was to be expected since I just woke her and her crazed lunatic harum-scarum drummer up. I could see a digital clock in the depths of her cavern and it read 2:09am. Ritsu was right; I came at the worst possible time.

I skip right to the point of my late night visit, "I found it."

"Found it?" she repeats. Then she acknowledges the object I hold at my side and her hand shoots to cover her gaping mouth. She blinks several times and I gulp nervously because from the looks of things she is going to cry an ocean in front of me any second now.

"You, Taira, you, what?" She says, trying in vain to form a coherent sentence. I just place the case at our feet and open it up to show her. She gasps at the sight and I suppose I'll never ever earn the same kind of affection she has for her instrument.

"This is your bass right?" I ask softly, afraid she might tell me that I screwed up the serial number and this indeed was not her bass but a replica. I hand it to her and she reads the etched code by the output jack.

Based on how she hugs the instrument close to her gleefully I'm guessing I got extremely lucky. Thankfully I am not both a thief and an assaulter, just a provoked aggressor. Yes, that sounds better to me. Less like I belong in jail and more like the knight in shining armour rescuing my princess. Wow. That was incredibly corny even for me. I blame it on the beer and whatever the bartender put in the beer.

She puts her Ric back in its home and comes back to the doorway. "Taira, thank you so much. How did you find it?"

"Eh? Long story short some punks stole it and were going to gig with it. Probably sell it too."

"I'd like to hear the long story some time," she says, her eyes still glistening. Then, without warning, she reaches up and cups my face in her tiny hands and gives me a timid peck on the lips. From my brief taste of her I make the decision that she's got perfectly soft, warm and supple lips.

So I go in for a second round and to my delight she's more than eager. From the intensity of her kisses I wonder if she's just really overjoyed to have her bass back or if she had been secretly lusting after me like I was for her. Of course being in the throws of passion I was all for the latter.

Rylie scoots closer to me and I ignite with the feeling which leads me to manoeuvre her up against the wall and press my body into hers. Her hands are roaming around my back and settle on tugging at the waistband on my pants. All the while our lips are sealed together.

"Hey, what's on your hand?" I ask when we break apart.

"You have blood all over your face," she states anxiously. Her eyes are swimming with worry.

I touch the right side of my face and feel the crusty mess of dried blood just above my eye. I did get punched violently there. Ouch. It actually hurts now that I've gone and prodded it.

"Battle scars," I tell her with what I hope is a seductive smile. She's reassured and cautiously kisses me again, taking care now to not aggravate my injury. I feel one of her hands snake down my back slowly and lift the hem of my shirt while the other takes root in my hair. My own hands have started a little journey of their own in similar locations.

"Woah, can't you two at least get a room?"

Rylie breaks away from me abruptly and it takes all of my self-restraint to not neuter Chiba on the spot. Of all the times he could have shown up he chooses now? I fume silently but back away from the wall to let Rylie breathe. The moment is lost and the three of us stand in the otherwise empty hallway exchanging awkward glances. Rylie has moved her gaze to the floor and it looks like she's blushing up a storm.

"Sooo," Chiba tries to break the silence, "Are you two secretly dating?"

We glance at each other out of the corners of our eyes and I choose not to answer that. Instead I try to break the awkward by saying, "Umm, Rylie, my best friend Chiba helped me get your bass back."

As far as Chiba's concerned the tension has lifted, "Hell ya! Man, you should've seen Taira, he was so fucking pissed off when he figured it out!"

I grimace at his word choice even though I touched all those bases a few hours ago. Beside me Rylie says politely, still red in the face, "Thank you Chiba for helping Taira save my bass."

"Does this mean I get a kiss too?"

"No." We both say in unison. Then we exchange a sort of faint smile and I think that maybe, just maybe she and I would work out. But I think I'm still going to neuter my best friend.

"He played the hero! How charming! Now go away so I can sleep!" A voice from inside Rylie's room shouts that could only belong to Ritsu. From the sound of things she isn't aware it happens to be more than just me outside.

"Was that who I thought that was?" Chiba asks darkly. Oh yes Chiba, it's your worst nightmare.

Or his wet dream.

What. The. Hell. What are you doing here?

I'm Back In Black – I've been too long I'm glad to be back -

Okay, seriously, don't use AC/DC lyrics against me!

So sorry, I was just kind of…pumped up for a bit there. Haha, sorry, bad joke. Seriously, we could have continued that with Rylie in the van if we'd hurried up and –

"Okay, well, I guess Chiba and I will be going now!" I hastily say in order to stop the flow of hormonal thoughts. Any more and I think I might get a horrible headache.

"Right, we'll see you in the morning…" Chiba trails off, following my lead.

Hey, remember the last time I bugged you? It was about the little window of opportunity? Yeah, you're still fucking that up!

Shut up, go die in a hole. There's a little somethin'-somethin' going on down in my pants right now buddy, I kind of need to escape!

Fine, go masturbate and we'll resume this conversation in the morning.

You just can't leave me alone at all, can you?

"Bye Taira," Rylie says with a wave of her hand. "Thanks again Chiba!"

Nope, that wouldn't be any fun at all!

A.N.: Remember how I put 'violence' in the disclaimer? Yeah, there was a bit of mindless violence in this chapter, so sorry to those who really dislike the action.

Finally, Taira and Rylie have connected. Man, that took forever. Sorry for the wait, not just for the goodies but for the chapter itself!

~ReikiConvulsion