CHAPTER 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
"An' I ain't goin nowhere without another gun," B added from his spot on the mat.
Ichigo gave the man a sidelong glance that spoke volumes before he looked around the room. All eyes landed on him at the same damned time, like a perfect harmony. Sighing heavily, he gave his attention to his boots. Sure, he knew a guy that could get them anything they needed, sort of like a 7-eleven. Only, the man specialized in weapons instead of beer, munchies snacks and slurpees. Added to that, the guy was a bit...strange. And that was being nice. He was a cool dude in all respects of the word, but at the same time, his aggression was like a ticking bomb. Not to mention, he had an ongoing crush on their silver-haired teammate.
Ichigo smirked wickedly at the thought and cut a small circle in G's direction. That wide grin was no longer present on the man's face and a cigarette hung limply from the corner of his mouth as he stared right back.
"I ain't goin'," he stated flatly, voice lacking its usual playfulness. "I got a mind ta stay right here 'til ya get back. I got my knives; don' need much more than that," he continued, frosty blue eyes open and serious as suicide.
Ichigo cackled. There was no way he was letting G squirm his way out of this one. If he had to go see the weapons guy, then that meant everyone was coming along for the ride. Besides, not only would the guy be able to get them all clothes, which was sorely needed in most of the team's case – B especially – but...well...this was a rare chance to see G in a state of uncharacteristic discomfort. Ichigo wouldn't miss it for the world.
But, back to their volatile blue-haired teammate. He was being inconsistently quiet. He still hadn't moved from that mat and his arm still covered his eyes like any sort of light was a personal offense. Well, that wouldn't do. Ichigo had been spoiling for a fight, frustrated and perturbed, but B hadn't taken the bait. That alone was cause for concern, but when the man hadn't even had a decent comeback to their argument, it'd stumped the shit out of him. He didn't understand what was going on with B. The man had been acting strangely since his award-winning arrival at the hangar and it was starting to press all of Ichigo's buttons.
He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his cell with the secure line. All of his underground contacts were in this phone and even though he wrestled with dread, he also rolled around in the mud with a bit of excitement and anxiety. He was looking forward to meeting up with their weapons guy, if only to get under G's skin. Especially after that teasing episode the silver-haired man had sprung on him not too long ago. The line rang a few times before an answering machine picked up, the weapons guy's deep baritone floating through the receiver.
"I'll tell ya if it's important er not."
Beep.
Ichigo grinned and shook his head. The man was still the same, screening all of his calls. He cleared his throat and turned away from the team's prying eyes.
"Yo, it's me, O. Need to call in another favor, dude."
There was a small pause before the line clicked and that deep voice shouted, "Yer shittin' me, right? Odie?"
Ichigo grimaced. He'd totally forgotten about that stupid fucking nickname and would have been more than glad to keep it that way. With a long sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. This guy had remarkable ways of clambering underneath his skin.
"Yeah," he finally managed to grunt. "How soon can we see you?"
Another pause, this one a bit lengthier. Ichigo could practically smell the smile on the man before that baritone chuckled over the line. "We? Does that mean my little friend's with ya?"
When opportunity knocks...
"Sure does."
"Well, shit. In that case, you can come right now. You remember how to get here, right?"
"Yep. Might need some rags too. Got ourselves in a tight little spot, ya know?"
The man hummed, voice so deep it sounded like a rolling boulder. "Think I c'n take care a'that. See ya soon, Odie."
The connection ended and Ichigo slipped his cell back into his pocket. They officially had a date with a weirdo. Well, technically, it was G's date, through and through. Grinning wickedly again, he peered over at the silver-haired man. Back stiff and hands shoved deeply into his shorts pockets, G glared boiling death at him.
"I ain't goin'," he reiterated, in case Ichigo had missed it the first time.
Time to put the good old foot down.
"Look, G. I'm tired of being in these shorts, and I'm pretty sure Tu, Grenade and B would appreciate more suitable attire as well. Plus...we need some heavy duty fire going into this thing. Now...how 'bout you stop bein' a baby and get it together?" Ichigo questioned, voice stern.
G's attention slid to the left, wide mouth turned down in a petulant frown. However, Ichigo knew the signs; G was about to cave like a collapsible tent, even if he kicked and screamed the whole way. But the last few times they'd gone to see the weapons guy, G hadn't kicked and screamed nearly as much as he'd used to. Funny...
The silver-haired man turned back to him with a special glint in his eye. "O...you an' me ain't seein' eye ta eye right now; I c'n unnerstand that. But if that ape lays hands on me, I'll cut him open and laugh while he bleeds out. Now...you unnerstand me?"
Ichigo fought tooth and nail with his laughter, but in the end, it won with a flourish. He wasn't the only one that thought G's tirade was comedic, though, since Grenade chuckled and Tu cracked up. P was still on the phone and B was still spread on his mat, ignoring the world.
"Yeah, I hear you, G. Loud and clear."
"Good," the man muttered before going silent.
P finally ended his call and turned back to them, mustard-hued eyes agitated. "So, we're going to see that imbecile first, I assume?"
Ichigo laughed again. No love lost for the weapons guy, that was for sure.
"Yeah, that's the plan. Get it out of the way, ya know? Maybe we can keep G from threatening the man's jewels this time," he explained around the silly smile trying to break his face in two.
"I highly doubt it," P replied, tone dry and resigned.
"Smart man," G added quietly.
Ichigo just shook his head and looked around the hangar, the wheels in his brain slowly starting to kick in and rotate. If they went in their cars, they would immediately be spotted, so that option was out. That left their backup plan. When he let his eyes land on Grenade, the man was smiling, small black cell phone in his left hand.
"Already on it, O," he drawled.
"Cool."
"Wait a minute," Tu's panicked voice cut in. "Are you telling me you left Bullet to this guy?"
Ichigo nodded. "Well, yeah. Nobody else wanted the job."
"I would have taken better care of it!" she continued, eyes wide with dismay.
"Hey!" Grenade interjected. "Bullet's jus' fine, you'll see."
"I don't trust you! I loved that thing! I swear to God, Grenade, if you fucked it up, I'll kill you myself!" Tu screeched.
Grenade arched a brow and leaned in her direction, ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. "You can try."
"OK, kiddies," P started, immediately asserting damage control. "How about we get to destination one before tearing at each other's throats? Hm?"
Ichigo nodded. That seemed like a good idea. Things wouldn't run as smoothly if they went about picking fights with each other at every turn. No matter how fun it was. Yeah, that was his mind-frame, until a hard bump to his shoulder made him stare in astonishment at B as the man made his way to his car. That strong back and firm-looking ass did nothing to distract Ichigo from the ire pumping its way through his veins. B was purposely provoking him if that sneaky ass shark grin over the shoulder was any indication. Mouth open and brows drawn into a fierce scowl, his eyes followed B's progress, mind still a bit numb from shock.
He hadn't even seen the blue-haired man move. However, he wasn't about to sit there and let B get away with so clearly challenging him. He balled up his fists and stalked over in the man's direction, hell bent on beating him like a rug, until P stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
"Move, P," he growled, eyes still on their belligerent, wild child of a teammate. "I won't take long kickin' his ass."
"We just had this discussion, no?"
Ichigo growled under his breath. B was taunting him, doing what only he could do best. Be a complete asshole. The blue-haired cretin smirked even wider and propped himself against the hood of his BMW.
"Let 'im come, P, since he's in such a rush ta get this ass-whoopin'."
White spots danced across his eyes as Ichigo glared. The bastard knew he had a bad temper and knew just how to aggravate it until he was a ball of sheer pissed off. Ichigo hated that about his teammate. But he liked it at the same time. What a twisted outlook, huh? Yeah, he'd learned a long time ago that he was a masochist.
"B, I'll fuck you up and you know it," he snapped.
Yes, it was surely a cocky statement, and yes, it was probably true that he wouldn't entirely fuck B up without getting his fair share of bruises and broken limbs, but he couldn't help it. B irked him to the point of making him run off at the mouth like a teenager in a schoolyard. In hindsight, it was pretty embarrassing, but in the heat of the moment, it felt damned good.
Ichigo's last statement made B rise from the front of his car, what looked like an ominous storm cloud passing over his face. His blue eyes turned dark and narrowed at the same time his left eyebrow twitched. It was on. No amount of placating from P could stop this oncoming war and Ichigo readily embraced it. He watched with anxious anticipation as B made his way over, hands hanging loosely at his sides. That was the bad thing about fighting the blue-haired ex-agent. One could never predict what he was about to do and it made for some nasty surprises. For instance...
Ichigo's head snapped painfully to the side and he lost his balance as B feinted with his left and connected with his right. The blow was heavy and immediately made cobwebs spring up before his eyes, but he shook them away and refocused on B circling around him like a hyena sensing weakness.
"You were sayin'?" he lazily put forth, blue eyes bright and glinting.
Ichigo didn't respond, he just grinned. B had a bad habit of talking when he fought someone he knew. Ichigo leaped forward and right when the blue-haired man threw out an arm to clothesline him, he dodged and landed a knee to the man's gut. B bent double, eyes wide and surprised, but Ichigo didn't stop there. He went on and punched the man clean across his angular jaw. B didn't ass-plant, hell, he barely lost his footing, but he was clearly stunned. His eyes were still wide as if he'd seen a ghost and his body seemed stuck at a ninety-degree angle.
Ichigo made a slow circle around him, grin spreading. "Tha's a good look for you, B," he muttered.
B didn't respond. Smile still in place, Ichigo licked the corner of his mouth and tasted his own blood. That idiot hit harder than a motherfucker. He would admit he was too caught up in gloating over what seemed to be his victory to notice that B had finally straightened his back and was currently glaring razors at him. His mistake. Trust him when he said he'd never do that shit again. One minute he was turning to head for his car and the next he was on his back with the room spinning around him like a merry-go -round. Black spots danced across his vision and he felt like he'd suddenly swallowed a jar full of cotton balls. He did, however, happen to register B standing over him with a smug grin as he too bled from his bottom lip and clutched his mid-section.
"Tha's an even better one fer you, O," he stated before stepping over him and walking away.
The shame. Ichigo would never live it down. He could already imagine the unmitigated glee radiating off of G, and P would just haughtily remind him that he'd previously informed him not to fight, thus making it his entire fault that he was currently laid on his back, stunned like he'd just been tased. Tu probably wouldn't have a comment at the moment, but she and Grenade would both come up with doozies later on, Ichigo was sure of it.
He tried rolling onto his side, only to have the room tilt, then spin some more, this time faster. He felt like throwing up, but refused to humiliate himself any further. Instead he gripped his stomach and used his free hand to balance on the ground. It was extremely slow going, but he finally managed to sway to his feet, vision still speckled with dark spots every now and then. He tested his jaw by carefully opening and closing his mouth. So far so good. No broken bones, nothing jarred out of place. At least, he didn't think so. He didn't think he had a concussion, but then again, one never knew. He wasn't really in the right frame of mind to tell anyway, so he turned to Tu, squinting as he tried to make one of the biggest headaches of his life disappear.
"Now, look!" P snapped, disgust thoroughly evident in his tone. "You're in no shape to go anywhere anymore! Fucking kids! You couldn't wait until later to wrestle around in the playpen? You absolutely had to do this now?"
Ichigo was barely cohesive, so P's rant went right over his head, and B wasn't in the mood for talking apparently, since he ignored the pink-haired man, leaving the rest of the team to pass wary and amused looks back and forth between the two of them. Finally, Grenade cleared his throat and climbed from the hood of his Ferrari.
"Well, if anyone wants ta know, Bullet's on the way. I called durin' that lovely lil hoe down." No one responded, so the brunet continued, Southern drawl sluggish and way too tickled. "I gotta say, O. Bein' a mail man's softened you up. Ya used ta be faster than that. Then again, we are talkin' 'bout B here, who ain't even human if ya ask me."
Anger swelled in Ichigo's chest and made his pride rear its head viciously. Feeling as though he were speaking with a mouth full of Orajel, he clutched his forehead and growled, "I ain't sof'. I c'n kick his ass. Jus' lemme get the room ta stop spinnin'."
Tu sucked her teeth and made her way over to him just as he leaned into a nose-dive to the floor. What the fuck had B done to him? He felt like he'd been countered, a blow so quick, you didn't even know you were down until someone told you so. Tu wrapped her arms under his armpits and hefted him into a standing position. She's pretty strong for a chick, he absently thought, while leaning against her and trying his damnedest to clear his head and stand up straight.
"B, look what you did!" she admonished, giving the blue-haired man an excellent grade of glare.
"Look! He started it with the pillow fight! Ya don' ambush a man while he's sleepin'!" B instantly snapped.
Ichigo interjected hotly...or at least he tried to. "Stole my...pillow. And...my mat. Shoulda kicked...yer ass...then."
"Sounds like yer itchin' ta have another go at it, O. An' I don' care if yer hunched over an' handicapped, I'll still knock yer ass out."
"You never learn!" P spat, adjusting his glasses. "You never fucking learn! I'm not going to keep peeling you apart by the ears every single time your testosterone levels become high enough to require gas masks! It's ridiculous! We have things to do and O, you should be ashamed of yourself as our former leader! Scrapping like an adolescent? What's wrong with you? I expect that sort of behavior from our illustrious B, but certainly not from you!"
The entire hangar went deathly still. That rant didn't go over Ichigo's head at all, no matter how much he wished it had. P was right. He had a responsibility and he'd let his temper distract him. He squinted across the room at B, only to find the man grinning shamelessly.
"I kinda like that word, P. Illustrious. Tha's me all day," he stated proudly.
Ichigo rolled his eyes and finally managed to hold his head up without feeling like it was about to split open. Tu still steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, so he gave her a grateful smile and turned to Grenade.
"How long?" he asked quietly.
"'Bout forty minutes. Bullet stays close to here."
"Good. I just wanna get this over with."
With that, he went to his car after throwing one last dirty look at B, who grinned and blew him a kiss. He grimaced and fought the heat threatening to swallow his face whole. His blue-haired teammate really had no idea what that little gesture had just done to him, and it was best that it stay that way. B was terrible for his concentration, composure, and common sense. It was like the man single-handedly robbed him of all logical thought whenever in the same vicinity. So unfair.
But...at least B was back to his normal self. The guy's earlier behavior had been scary and a bit loopy, something he never wanted to see again. He'd much rather they antagonize each other, while he inwardly fantasized about doing naughty, dirty things to the man.
XxxxxX
Forty-five minutes later, the hangar entrance was open and hailing the presence of a black, double-decker tour bus. "Bullet" was written along both sides in a flowing silver script, matching the silver door perfectly. Grenade stood near the entrance of the road behemoth, beaming like a proud parent.
"See? I told ya Bullet was jus' fine," he drawled.
Ichigo grinned at the sight of the bus. It had been their home on jobs that had required a lower profile. Equipped with comfy suede couches, a small kitchenette and bathroom, a large, flat-screen TV and a wet bar on the lower level, and seven individual bunks on the upper, Bullet was the perfect mobile home, so to speak. Blondie had purchased the bus when they'd been doing mercenary work and the thing had become their home away from home. Too bad Blondie couldn't be here to see his baby back in action.
The thought of his dead comrade made hot slivers slide through Ichigo's gut. It wasn't right that Blondie had to die, but what was even more fucked up was the fact that Ichigo didn't even know how the man had been killed. Blondie was exceptionally smart; it was why they got along so well and why their strategies were normally flawless. How had the tactics genius been caught off guard? It bothered the hell out of Ichigo and he wouldn't rest until he'd figured it out. And he wouldn't rest until he'd put Tsukishima in a grave as well. That asshole had it coming in the worst way and Ichigo couldn't wait to deliver. There was nothing he hated more than traitors and liars and Tsukishima was both. Utterly unacceptable.
Ichigo ambled over to Bullet and whistled. Grenade had taken great care of the bus, even adding a few modifications to the wheels and storage compartments. Tu grudgingly admitted that Bullet was indeed "jus' fine" and was the first one inside. Ichigo could hear her noisy squeals as she greeted the driver and made her way deeper into the belly of the beast, the rest of the team following on her heels. The last one inside, Ichigo took in the interior and grinned, widely ignoring the bruise on the side of his head, as well as the slowly dissipating headache.
"Home sweet home," he whispered.
Grenade was already raiding the fridge, while Tu had forced her way into the small bathroom. Ichigo figured she wanted to primp and preen; she was a girl, after all. P was perched on one of the couches, feet up, glasses clinging precariously to the end of his nose, and face looking as though someone had stolen his laptop. G too was on one of the couches, but he sat Indian-style, expression indifferent. Ichigo could tell the silver-haired man still wasn't too thrilled about the impending trip, but he'd get over it soon enough.
Ichigo made his way over to the TV, hoping to take his mind off of things, but was stopped in his tracks at the sight of his blue-haired teammate stretched across one of the suede couches, remote in hand and glowing blue eyes locked on the screen. Ichigo ignored the perfect roundness of B's backside as the man lay on his stomach. Well, he tried to anyway. Didn't quite work out the way he'd planned. The muscular slope of B's back, the way his ass curved and led to equally muscular legs that seemed to go on for days, those thick arms, that handsome face, those brilliant blue eyes...that were looking right at him.
Oh, shit.
Bright blue brow arched, B gave him a look full of curiosity and a tiny bit of confusion. Ichigo, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and hide away forever. He felt so exposed, like B could see all of his secret feelings, see everything he tried to keep tucked inside of himself. What would he do if B found out how he really felt about him? What if the blue-haired man discovered that Ichigo held much more than brotherly love for him? Luckily, B handed him a reprieve.
"Game's on," he grunted before nonchalantly turning back to the TV as if Ichigo hadn't been visually molesting the shit out of him.
Nodding, Ichigo took a seat on the couch opposite the TV and kicked his feet up, heart still pounding like crazy. That had been way too close for comfort.
XOXOXO
After downing three glasses of orange juice, Gin sulked his way to the upper level. His bunk was on top of Grenade's and he had a mind to stay right there until they finished the business of acquiring weapons and whatever else they needed from the red-haired weapons dealer. Just the thought of the man sent chills rocketing through his thin body. He had a love/hate kind of relationship with that guy that no one was truly aware of. They knew the red head liked him, but they didn't know how attracted he was to the red head in return. It was an ongoing battle for him. The red head propositioned him constantly and he ruthlessly cut him down every time. It had been routine, normal, usual. However, the team had no clue that inside, he trembled with want anytime that guy got near him.
The weapons dealer's voice was deep and rough, body was stacked like a brick house and he looked good enough to lick off the floor. Not to mention, the guy was dangerous. Even though the man seemed pretty amiable around the team, there was an unmistakable sphere of peril surrounding him and Gin always did have a thing for bad boys.
He sighed and climbed into his bunk before sliding the curtain shut for some privacy. He hated pretending in front of the team, when all he really wanted to do was let the intriguing red head into his circle. Let the man get to know him, so Gin could get to know him in return. It was tiresome work, that was for sure. He was almost positive that O was close to figuring him out. If not O, then definitely Grenade. Even though the brunet set up camp on cloud one million with his undying love for Mary Jane, he was scarily perceptive. Nothing managed to make it past him, and Gin was surprised he hadn't been approached by the man yet. Now that he thought about it, it was only a matter of time before it happened.
Gin lay back against his old pillow and closed his eyes. They were en route to Staten Island, New York, so he had time to get a little shut-eye and prepare himself to see the man he secretly lusted for. He'd already sharpened his knives for the team's benefit, much to the amusement of O. Gin grinned. Speaking of O, that guy and B had some hellafied tension going on. Sure, they'd never been able to get all the way along, but it had never been this bad. Watching the two go at it that morning in the hangar had been entertaining, of course, but more than that, it'd been very curious. Interesting, even.
O had always given B sidelong lusty eyes. Yeah, he'd tried to hide it, but the orange-haired man wasn't too successful with that. O wore his emotions on his sleeve when it came to members of the team. B, however, was a little harder to decipher. Or at least, he used to be. Once they'd met up in the hangar after being apart for three years, it seemed like the tension between the two men had ratcheted up to astonishing levels. B had picked a fight with O the minute he'd arrived at the hangar and that morning, O had brought the fight right back to him. It'd blown up like a nuclear weapon, with the two squaring up and duking it out. Fights like that usually ended with both men out of commission, but for some reason, O had been unusually cocky, leaving him wide open to B's swift retaliation.
Like he'd said. Entertaining, for sure, but also interesting.
Three years ago, it'd appeared that O had been the only one holding the admiration stick in B's direction, but now it seemed like the blue-haired man had grabbed the torch, so to speak. Gin hadn't been able to miss the glances and not so subtle looks B had been tossing at the tactics genius.
Now don't get him wrong. Everyone knew that B was into guys and girls, the same way O was strictly dickly, even though he tried to be discreet about it. Gin thought it was kind of cute. While B was insanely aggressive and had testosterone falling out of his pockets, O was more subdued. Unless someone provoked his temper, of course. Then he was pretty much a bottle rocket with a lit fuse. But usually, the orange-haired man was laid-back. He was a thinker, a contemplator. It didn't take an engineer to see the wheels turning in that kid's head, see the ideas flashing behind those maple-brown eyes. But put him in a room with B and all that went down the drain, took a flying leap out of a ten-story window. O became the equivalent to a stark-raving lunatic, foaming at the mouth and intent on nothing but violence. For some reason, B seemed to bring out the worst in the orange-haired man and although it made for some laughs, it was still way too curious to look past.
Didn't take a whole lot of digging, however, to figure out what was going on. Especially not after their little episode that morning. Grinning, Gin turned onto his side and licked his lips. O had one coming, that was for damned sure.
XxxxxX
Bullet pulled to a stop outside of what one would think was an abandoned warehouse. In all reality, it was closer to an army base. There were hidden cameras all over the property, not to mention special security on the roof. The weapons guy held no punches when it came to his business and Gin admired that about the guy. It showed that even though he could be a jokester, he could also be serious enough to make the hardest man alive think twice about stepping to him without a colossal amount of backbone.
Gin rolled out of his bunk and climbed to his feet, stretching like a cat before starting the trip to the lower level. As soon as his feet hit the second step, raised voices catapulted up at him.
"LeBron is not better than Kobe, B! What the fuck! Are you smokin' crack or somethin'?"
That was O.
"It don' matter, now do it? LeBron's younger and he's got more time ta hone his skills! Kobe's on his way ta retirement!"
And that was B.
The two were at it again.
"I swear, you two need chain leashes and iron muzzles. You never shut the fuck up around each other and you never stop fucking arguing," P griped.
Gin shook his head and made his way down the rest of the stairs. As he emerged on the lower level, he immediately made eye contact with Grenade, who was giving his customary lazy grin. He was perched on the arm of the couch nearest the TV, quietly shaking his head at the two arguing team members. Tu had her hands on her slim hips, watching the exchange with equal amounts of amusement and exasperation in her wide, wheat-gray eyes. Gin licked his lips. There had been a time, long, long ago when he'd had a thing for their green-haired teammate. So much so that he'd almost made the mistake of sleeping with her. He said mistake because he hadn't known at the time that Tu was already in someone's very acute sights. Not to mention, a few months down the road, he'd come across the weapons dealer and it had been all she wrote after that.
Thoughts of the weapons guy made his heart take a slow dive through his innards and towards his toes. They were there, right outside the man's building. In only a matter of minutes, he would be in the presence of the man he liked a little more than his knives and that was really saying something.
"Well, I don' give a shit! You can't beat me!" B shouted, cutting into Gin's thoughts.
He glanced over at the two arguing men, standing before each other, stances aggressive and pissed off. O curled his upper lip back and gave B a murderous glare with his ridiculously brown eyes.
"You got lucky that time, asshole! It won't happen again!"
P stepped forward, hand going for his waist where a nine millimeter gently rested. "I'll shoot both of you if you even think about fighting again," he said much more calmly than was normal.
The two men paused, still glaring death rays at each other, but smart enough not to go any further. P was a stuck-up geek, but he was a dangerous one. People underestimated him because he buried his nose in books and computers most of the time, but get him good and riled up, or catch him on a mission and he was like a surgeon with a scalpel.
"Now, let's go," P continued, stepping past the two men.
After a little more glaring, O followed behind P, which gave everyone the go-ahead to exit the bus. They congregated outside the garage-style door of the warehouse before making sure everyone was in attendance. Then, O took the lead and trooped up to the door, where he rang a bell and rocked back on his heels, giving the impression that he was patiently waiting. Like he didn't have a care in the world. There was a short space of silence before a loud, game show buzz echoed over the surrounding lot. Gin shifted, trying to disguise his excitement and anxiety as the door raised. Just a little further. God, had it really been three years since the last time he'd seen the guy? It felt much longer.
They stepped under the hanging garage door and made their way inside, O at the front, P behind him, Tu and Grenade in the middle and him and B bringing up the rear. Although it was broad daylight outside, once they stepped foot into the warehouse, the sun seemed to get swallowed up by the contagious state of dimness. The first time Gin had come with O to see the weapons guy, an instant feeling of unease had descended over him and made him question the orange-haired man's sanity. Now, he was just used to the intimidating atmosphere.
They trooped down a long corridor that seemed to glow a faint reddish color until they reached a huge metal door that resembled the door to a bank vault. O hung his head and shook it.
"Yo, Red! Ya gonna open up, or do I gotta kick it down?"
Deep, booming laughter careened through the halls on a loud speaker. "Odie, Odie, Odie. It's good ta see ya again! Thought ya fergot all about me."
O's jaw twitched as his hands balled into tight fists. Gin just grinned and rocked back on his heels, hands shoved into his shorts pockets. He could let this bit of happiness through because it seemed like he was laughing at O's expense. He was, but he was also inwardly overjoyed. Hearing that voice was like getting a tax-free check.
The door clicked and slowly began swinging open, making O take a careful step back to avoid the heavy metal. Once it was all the way ajar, O was the first one to step through, followed by the rest of the team. Gin took the short time to fit his mask of indifference over his face, just so no one would suspect him of his true feelings. He made sure to look at everything in the room except the red-haired man seated in the middle of the wide open space on what looked like a dumpster-green throne, made out of scrap metal and pieced together by five-year olds.
"Odie!" the red head shouted as he rose from his seat. Three quick, long-legged strides brought him right before their orange-haired leader, where he dragged the man into a back-breaking hug. "It's good ta do business witcha again!"
Gin squirmed. He was a few feet behind O and the weapons guy's aura swarmed over him like a mess of flies. The smell of watermelon-flavored candy and Degree deodorant instantly hit him like a kick to the gut. He briefly closed his eyes and allowed himself a quick second of Nirvana. When he opened them, he made the mistake of looking at the red-haired man. Glinting, russet irises made him hold his breath and fight to keep a straight face. The man's fire engine-red hair was hanging down over his extremely broad shoulders, caressing the tight cotton material of a white screen tee that advertised a picture of a rooster, the words "save gas" on top of it and the words "ride my cock" underneath it.
Lord, the images...
The man wore a pair of khaki cargo pants tucked into black, beat-up combat boots, the strings tied haphazardly, as if he couldn't be assed to get it right. A simple silver watch rested on his left wrist, while an abundance of rope and rubber wristbands decorated the right. The only things left to point out were the white bandana wrapped around his head and the lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth. Gin barely resisted the urge to fan himself. The last time he'd seen the man, he'd been a little less stocky, not made of so much muscle. Now he was just salivatingly hot. Grossly unjust.
"Can't forget about you, Renji. There's just no way," O commented casually as he tucked his hands into his shorts pockets.
"Jeez, Odie, yer gonna make me blush here." Renji looked around at the rest of the team, somber eyes taking in their various state of attire. He paused a little longer on B, a smirk curving his full lips upwards and shifting the lollipop before he finally turned to Gin. "There's my angel," he said quietly.
He never could understand how the man could speak so perfectly with a lollipop in his mouth. Hmm...
Gin frowned and looked away, inwardly counting to ten. Breathe...relax. Never let him see you sweat, he coached himself. His best bet was to ignore the adamant red head, which was hard enough as it was, but when the man made it his business to get closer – meaning only a foot away – things became excruciatingly difficult. Renji smelled delicious and looked even better, but if Gin let his facade slip now, he would never hear the end of it. Especially from O.
He slowly turned his head to meet the taller man's gaze head on. "Yer too close," he said softly, hand going to his side.
Renji gave him a sideways smirk that lifted the hair all over his arms. "Not close enough if ya ask me."
The man's voice was a low, vibrating hum that sent shock waves spiraling through Gin's body. "Mah, ya never learn, do ya?"
That smirk turned into a full-blown grin. "I'm a knucklehead. What can I say?"
Gin's hand inched into his pocket, where he kept his trusty throwing knife; he knew he was going to need it in the next few moments. Sure enough, Renji closed the gap between them and removed his lollipop before leaning in next to Gin's ear.
"I wantcha, G. An' I'ma getcha. Might not be right now, but I will getcha in my bed."
Now, Gin could use the excuse – but only with himself – that Renji's baritone voice had hypnotized him. Turned him into a brainless idiot, consumed with lust. Yes, it was brief. Yes, it was barely recognizable. But the fact of the matter was this: he'd hesitated. He'd hesitated and it allowed Renji to swoop in and place a short, tempting kiss right at the corner of his mouth. Gin managed to recover, whipping out his knife and tucking it under the taller man's Adam's apple, but by then it was too late. Not only did he feel himself blushing, but Renji had seen his slip. Russet eyes widened before darkening with desire and knowing.
"Mmhmm," the man hummed.
Shit, Gin inwardly cursed. How could he have been so careless? Plus, he was sure the team knew just as much as Renji did. His years-long secret was tossed out of the closet with fanfare. Still...he could act and talk his way out of a police cruiser – handcuffed, no less – and this situation seemed to call for a special case of denial.
"Back up, Big Red. Ya don't wanna extra mouth under yer chin, do ya?" he growled.
Renji held his big hands up in mock surrender, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sure don't. I'll behave."
Gin eyed him carefully, but decided to give the man the benefit of a doubt. He slowly lowered his knife and even more slowly stashed it in the case in his pocket. As soon as it was out of sight, Renji grinned wolfishly. As he turned back to O, he said over his shoulder, "For now, anyway."
Gin growled under his breath so no one would hear him. Renji had one-upped him this time, but only because he'd witnessed something he had no business witnessing to begin with. As he met O's astonished and amused brown gaze, he inwardly grimaced. Just great. Now he had to deal with O's smart ass remarks, not to mention the rest of the team's. He was sure they'd seen that pathetic little episode as well. Fuck. His life would never be the same after today.
Next time...
