CHAPTER 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Byakuya stared across the table, barely concealing a sneer. Three men were at the long, rectangular table aside from himself and Tsukishima. He'd never even met two of them, but the third man was notorious for his lack of morals and for always getting himself into unnecessary trouble. If Byakuya recalled correctly, the man's name was Nnoitra Jiruga. He was tall, with jet-black hair and a left eye that was kept covered by a green bandana. He was also extremely skinny. Didn't make him any less dangerous, though.

"I knew those idiots weren't dead," he stated loudly, tenor arrogant and rubbing Byakuya the wrong way.

Tsukishima didn't even blink as he kept his gaze locked with Byakuya's. "It doesn't matter, Jiruga. What matters is that they're dealt with properly. We can't have rogue agents running around, causing trouble for the agency. It's just not right."

Byakuya wanted to gag at the hypocrisy, but decided keeping it inside was the better option. One of the men at the table – a pale-haired man with strange eyes and a watery tenor – leaned forward and spoke up.

"S'long as I c'n get mah hands on that blue-haired piece a'shit, I'm good."

Again, Byakuya barely restrained the disgusted cringe that wanted to decorate his face. Instead, he focused on the pale man's hair. If he looked the guy in the eye, it would prove to be disastrous, he was sure.

"You'll have your chance, Shirosaki. Patience is the key. What we need to do now is talk strategy," Tsukishima said.

"Isn't that why we have Hirako?" a red-haired man with deep burgundy eyes asked.

Byakuya narrowed his own eyes and sat back in his seat. Something was amiss. Hirako was the name of the supposedly dead agent Blondie, so why was his name appearing in conversation as if he were alive? Tsukishima locked gazes with him again, and the look on the man's face told Byakuya everything he needed to know.

"Am I correct in assuming Agent Hirako, AKA Blondie, was a double agent?" he asked.

Tsukishima's expression never changed from the poker face he sported. Instead, he turned the blank look to the red-haired man.

"Indeed, it is. However, that's of no consequence at the moment. We need to construct a plan that will get all the members of the famous black ops team out of the way."

The red-haired man nodded and sat back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. Byakuya let his eyes travel the room again as he surveyed the occupants. Tsukishima was dressed in a sharp, navy-blue suit with matching tie, while Nnoitra had on a red t-shirt and black jeans. The man named Shirosaki was dressed in a white, long-sleeved, button-up shirt, a black sweater vest and light-blue jeans. The red haired man was dressed conservatively in a dark gray suit with matching tie, bright red hair pulled back in a low ponytail. If one merely glanced at the group with no discretion, one would believe the men were a harmless bunch. Byakuya knew better.

"Let Blondie handle that," Nnoitra grunted as he kicked his feet up on the table.

Tsukishima never even blinked. Byakuya figured had that been him or any other agent, there would have been dire consequences. But for some reason, this rag-tag team of miscreants were allowed free rein.

"Where is Agent Blondie?" Byakuya asked, mind already wrapped around the fact that the man was still alive and had indeed been a double agent.

There was no other way to explain his staged death.

"He's supposed to be here now."

Tsukishima said that with a slight frown. So, there was a wrinkle in the fabric, after all. Byakuya sat back in his seat and listened to the rest of the discussion, his gut unsettled and heart rate climbing the whole while.

XOXOXO

Ichigo grunted as he came into close contact with the cement of the parking lot ground. Blondie came at him, foot raised and prepared to stomp his face into oatmeal, but Ichigo rolled away at the very last second. Blondie snarled and leaped in his direction, swift as a cobra. Didn't matter. Ichigo was on his feet, back lowered as he dodged a reckless clothesline. As the other man's arm was outstretched, Ichigo placed a swift, roundhouse kick to Blondie's vulnerable armpit. When Blondie went to grab the injured section, Ichigo sent a brutal hook to the man's jaw, which slowed the guy down enough for them both to take a breather.

Ichigo panted as he and Blondie circled each other, eyeing one another warily. They were once again at a stalemate, and it was then that Ichigo realized he would need backup getting out of there. He hoped like hell that P was still listening in to the wire. Maybe the crew was already in motion, but if Blondie had his own reinforcements, there would be a colossal mash-up.

"Guess I gotta work harder than I thought," Blondie growled, honey-brown eyes flickering with danger.

Ichigo knew for a fact that Blondie had several scenarios running through his mind because it was what they did as tactics specialists.

"Did you really think this would be easy, Blondie?"

"Course not. But I didn' think it would be as hard as it is. Gotta admit, yer still tough, O."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't get too cocky, though," Blondie said with a smug sneer. "I have friends in high places."

Ichigo rolled his eyes briefly. "What the fuck do I care? You forget I have a team of professionals in my corner?"

"Ha! And they're all marked for death. Too bad, eh?"

For some reason, that rubbed Ichigo entirely wrong. It was fine considering his own death, but thinking of his friends – his family – dying? Unacceptable. Especially B. In Ichigo's opinion, the blue-haired man was completely off limits, and for anyone to threaten him was taboo.

"You'll die first," he snarled, eyes hard and heart still racing.

Blondie grinned and rolled his shoulders and neck. "We'll see, now, won't we?"

Ichigo was taken off guard when Blondie lunged, only because his mind was still with his friends. He hit the ground hard and found himself staring into the muzzle of Blondie's recovered gun. He was breathing hard and his body was trembling. So, this was it, huh?

"Not so tough now, are ya?"

"Fuck you!" Ichigo snapped, not afraid in the slightest. If he had to go out in order to save his team, then that was fine with him. He'd go with a bang.

Blondie cocked his weapon and positioned it directly at the middle of Ichigo's forehead. Ichigo swallowed harshly, but refused to show any fear or weakness to his former friend and teammate.

Suddenly, Blondie was tackled from the side, the gun in his hand flying away and clattering underneath a car parked nearby. Ichigo was stunned. He watched from his back as a bundle of pissed off, blue-haired, hand-to-hand specialist beat Blondie's face into a maroon lump.

P's face came into view as he held out a hand, sideways smirk making Ichigo's hands itch.

"Can't believe this shit is happening," he stated, voice still managing to sound haughty as all get-out.

"Me either."

Ichigo was pulled to his feet, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shaking with nervous tension. Blondie had been seconds away from putting a bullet in his head. The thought made Ichigo furious. He wanted, more than anything, to pummel the blond asshole, but as he glanced a few feet away, he realized B was already doing a good job of that. The blue-haired man was straddling Blondie, fists crunching into the man's face over and over again. It was a bit unnerving, but Ichigo couldn't say that Blondie didn't deserve it.

G whistled from his spot beside P. "B looks pretty pissed, dontcha think?"

Grenade chuckled, but remained silent. Tu, however, was giggling like a mad woman. She had her hands on her hips as she watched B damned near killing Blondie.

"Aww. Must be love," she said.

Ichigo fought the blush that tried to worm its way across his face. Was she talking about him? He stalked over to the bigger man tearing into Blondie with a bloodthirsty vengeance. As Ichigo got closer, he could hear B muttering something with each jarring blow he delivered.

"Don't...you...fuckin'...think...'bout...touchin...a...hair...on..."

Ichigo frowned, but grabbed B's arms from behind. "Hang on, B!"

B jerked away from him with ease, which surprised the hell out of Ichigo and ultimately made him think B had only been bullshitting with him whenever they had fought. The man had an unnatural strength at the moment. Hell, it was almost scary. B snapped Blondie's bloodied face to the side yet again with a sharp right.

The sound...

Ichigo again grabbed B's arms. This time, the man paused as he seemed to finally register who was stopping him. He was breathing harshly, and his blue eyes were cold as ice. His nostrils were flared and eyebrows pulled into a frightening scowl. The timing couldn't be worse, but Ichigo found himself terribly attracted to the other man. B was astounding in the throes of anger – that was nothing new – but the fact that the man was angry because of what Blondie had done to Ichigo...now that was just beautiful.

"We gotta go," Ichigo muttered, disguising the swaying of his body.

He must not have done such a good job because B eyed him with a narrowed gaze. Instead of being sarcastic, via classic B style, the blue-haired man climbed to his feet – thoroughly ignoring the battered man on the ground – and penetrated Ichigo with his stare.

"Yer nose is bleedin'," he grumbled.

Ichigo didn't even realize it until he touched the space between his nose and upper lip and came away with a smear of blood on his fingertips.

"S'nothin'."

"My ass," B grunted. "How'd ya let this asshole beat up on ya like that?"

Ichigo was sure he was supposed to be offended by B's harsh phrasing, but instead, he was amused. Call it insight, call it intuition, but B's worry was damned near palpable.

How touching.

"We'll talk about it later. Right now we gotta go."

B went to protest, but P interrupted. "O's right. We have to leave now. I'm sure the guards are moving by now."

The tone of P's voice made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand on end. He turned to his pink-haired teammate and gave him a confused frown.

"What happened?"

P sucked his teeth as he started for the opposite side of the parking garage. "Grenade thought it was a good idea to plow Bullet through the entrance gates."

"What?" Ichigo breathed, stunned. "And Shaw agreed to that?"

"Well, what was he going to say with Grenade in his ear tantalizing him with dreams of putting together a pipe bomb?"

P's voice was disgusted, but his expression was anything but. In fact, he looked entertained. When Ichigo turned his attention to his brunet teammate, the man was wearing a small grin that spoke of ill-conceived mischief.

"So, how the fuck are we getting out of here?" Ichigo continued, face still slack with shock.

"Bullet. We have to move now, though. Shaw's waiting for us."

"Jesus Christ."

A hand ran through Ichigo's hair and settled at his temple, distracting him from the current dilemma. He turned wide eyes in B's direction. What the hell was going on now?

"Ya got bruises everywhere," the man said quietly. "I don' like it."

Ichigo's insides writhed with excitement. B was touching him, and it didn't feel like the pretend affection from before. What did it mean, though? Should he take it seriously? Even though B wasn't the touchy-feely type with the team, he did show his concern through reckless violence and misplaced anger. He would catch attitudes with the person he thought was being foolish at the time, so maybe that's what this was? Ichigo didn't know, but he liked what was happening. Didn't mean he would show it. He cleared his throat and stepped away from the man's soothing hand, trying not to be obvious about it.

"Let's go then."

The rest of the team pretended not to notice what had occurred between the two men. All except for G. G's ice-blue eyes were slitted in a teasing grin as he trooped away from the scene, hands in his pockets. Ichigo ignored the hell out of him. If he acknowledged the man, it would only fan G's fire. Ichigo knew firsthand that he wanted no parts of G when he was feeling devilish. It just wasn't worth it, not to mention not fun in the slightest.

Tu jogged ahead with P, while Grenade followed behind them. G walked briskly, long legs keeping up with the brunet easily, while B remained behind with Ichigo. Ichigo glanced at the man from the corner of his eye, unease creeping over his skin and settling in his gut. But before he could make a sound, he tripped over his feet, his head going light. He grabbed the air, fruitlessly trying to keep his balance and stay standing Right when he thought he would hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around him and steadied him.

B sucked his teeth, obviously annoyed. Or that's what Ichigo thought. He blinked what felt like a dozen times in a row before his swimming vision cleared and settled on cornflower-blue eyes.

"Ya shoulda let me kill 'im."

"What am I, your woman or somethin'?" Ichigo grunted as he tried to straighten himself out.

Thing was, whenever he moved on his own, he caught an acute case of vertigo.

B was quiet, which was pretty strange in itself, but when it stretched on for what seemed like forever, it became downright peculiar. What the hell was going on?

Ichigo glanced up at his teammate again. B just frowned down at him before averting his glare. Ichigo started to make a smart remark, but fatigue weighed him down first. He leaned heavily against B's thickly muscled arm, eyes sliding shut on their own. He was so tired all of a sudden. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving his system, maybe it was the lucky shots that Blondie got in – there was no telling. But Ichigo was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He was only aware of a quick, sweeping motion before all his lights went out.

XOXOXO

If O hadn't stopped him, Agent Blondie would probably be nothing but a puddle of blood by now. For one thing, when the asshole's voice had come through on the wire, it had left the entire team numb, shocked to Hell and back. P had even dropped the machine that registered O's and Blondie's voices. Once the blindsided effect had worn off, the rage had begun churning in all of them, but none more-so than with Grimmjow. For one thing, Blondie had betrayed them all, but he'd plunged a ten-inch knife into O's back. Anyone in the team could tell that O had considered Blondie his best friend since they'd had so much in common. For the bastard to not only turn on the orange-haired man that way, but to also try to kill him? Well, that was just wrong in every sense of the word.

Grimmjow had sat and listened, anger ratcheting and spiking dangerously. O's grunts of pain and furious swears had worn Grimmjow to the bone, until he'd been on his feet, pacing the bus. All he could think of was getting to O and beating the shit out of Blondie for making O make those sounds. He'd been more than relieved when Grenade had calmly stood and made his way to the front of the bus, where he'd convinced the driver, Shawlong, to knock down the gates to headquarters and get them all inside to help their teammate. Bullet had still been in motion when Grimmjow had jumped from it and steamrolled Blondie. And good thing he had. Blondie – the yellow-bellied punk – had had O at gunpoint, ready to kill him, for sure. That was all Grimmjow had needed to see to have his fury peak and give him the momentum he'd needed to take Blondie off his feet.

The resulting beating had been more satisfying than a cigarette while drinking.

He couldn't get the image out of his head of O on his back, brown eyes huge, yet defiant. The man had been ready to take a bullet for the rest of the team.

Grimmjow closed his eyes as he rested on one of the couches on the lower level of Bullet. They'd successfully gotten away because Shawlong had taken roads that not even natives of Langley knew about. The man was like a map in human form; it was crazy. The entire bus was silent, the other team members on the upper level in their bunks, taking naps or just reflecting on what had just occurred. O, on the other hand, was lying beside Grimmjow and still unconscious from his fight with Blondie. He had bruises along his cheekbones and on his right temple – hell, even under his left eye. It pissed Grimmjow off. Every time he looked at O's face, he wanted to get his hands on Blondie again, this time to finish the job. When they'd left, the asshole had been on his back, bleeding and in another world.

He deserved much worse.

O shifted and sighed, which caught Grimmjow's attention. He opened his eyes in time to see O's head turn slightly to the left. He wanted to put his hand on the orange-haired man's knee, wanted to lean in and kiss those tempting, full lips. But he knew better. O was still being skittish. However, there was definitely something going on between them. Why else would O give him doe eyes and snap defensive questions and statements at him? Grimmjow refused to play the blind man in this game of emotional tug-of-war. He wasn't going to let O take that role for too much longer, either. They both needed to face the fact that they were obviously attracted to one another. Whether it led to sex or a relationship would be figured out later.

Grimmjow focused on O's face again and hid his shock when he met a hooded pair of sleepy, brown eyes.

"Wha' time izzit?" O slurred as he ran a hand over his face.

"'Bout three. Ya been sleep a few hours."

Instead of responding, O tried to sit up. Grimmjow couldn't stifle his chuckle when O's body flopped back onto the couch, heavy and uncooperative.

"Still can't believe ya let Blondie kick yer ass like that."

O glared. "He didn't kick my ass. We were dead even until he caught me off guard."

Grimmjow frowned when he noticed O's face turning red. What the hell had the other man flushing like a scandalized female?

"Hn."

"Could you, uh, get me a bottle of water? Please?"

O had used his quiet, serious voice, and it had Grimmjow reacting in places that had him wanting to squirm as he stood.

"Yer lucky yer all fucked up," he muttered, trying his hardest to mask the arousal that was probably written all over his face.

O just rolled his eyes and ignored the barb, thankfully. Grimmjow didn't know what he would do if O had decided to notice his weird behavior. Or maybe if O noticed, it would be a good thing. They still had a certain topic to discuss – one that O had been studiously been running from as if a speeding train was on his heels. The more Grimmjow thought about it as he made his way to the refrigerator, the more the idea of bringing it up appealed to him. He grabbed a bottle of spring water from the black mini-fridge and ambled back over to the couch beside O. O managed to sit up as he accepted the water, expression grateful as he twisted the cap off and chugged deeply. As soon as he paused to wipe his mouth and breathe, Grimmjow went in for the kill.

"So, O. Ya gonna tell me if ya kissed me in Japan 'er what? I mean, I know I felt somethin', and I know I heard whatcha said. There somethin' ya gotta tell me?"

He kept his face as blank as possible, even though his heart was in the middle of going haywire. He watched O's brown eyes widen and body freeze. The water was forgotten as the orange-haired man sat still as a stone statue, probably thinking if he didn't move and didn't say anything, then Grimmjow would let the question slide.

Well, O had another thing coming.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side and made himself comfortable on the couch, arm resting along the back of it. He bent his right leg as he turned to face O fully.

"I'm waitin'."

O's face erupted into red. He avoided Grimmjow's eyes and squeezed the water bottle until the plastic crackled and crinkled in his hand. Grimmjow decided maybe the man needed some assurance that violence wouldn't follow his admission, so he leaned in a bit and lowered his voice.

"O, I won' get mad."

The tactics specialist's eyes flashed as he scowled at Grimmjow. "I don't give a shit if you do." Well, that rankled. Grimmjow started to retort with an equally snarky comment, but was cut off. "OK, B. What if I told you I did kiss you? What would that change?"

"I don't want a hypothetical situation here, O. I want the truth. Did you or did you not kiss me in Japan? Yes or no?"

O's eyes narrowed as he sat forward. A couple beats trudged by before the orange-haired agent finally spoke, slow and deliberate.

"Yeah, B. I kissed you. Now what?"

Grimmjow's breath caught in his throat. Even though he'd been expecting that answer, it still made him reel a little. It made everything just a tad more real.

"So...what?" he asked. "You like me?"

O sighed and massaged his eyes. "Heh," he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"OK, I know. I just...what the hell was I supposed to say, B? We're kind of running for our lives here, and when we weren't, we were miles away from each other, living separate lives. Not to mention, we don't have the best track record for getting along, you know."

Grimmjow just stared. "But...you like me."

"We're getting nowhere," O huffed. "Look, just pretend-"

Grimmjow didn't hear the rest because his mind was light years away. His hand tangled in O's shirt collar and dragged the man closer. From there, all Grimmjow could focus on was the soft texture of O's lips. O gave a shocked intake of air, but seconds later, he reacted to the kiss like he'd been waiting for it his entire life. One of his hands lifted and settled on Grimmjow's chest, while the other continued clutching the water bottle. Grimmjow immediately felt like his body was on fire. It started in his chest and wound its way down to his groin and toes before coming back up and engulfing his face and ears.

O felt absolutely divine.

Grimmjow groaned deeply, not even realizing how animal-like it sounded. All he cared about was the shorter man in his arms. He pulled out of the kiss before it got too serious and stared down into O's smoldering brown eyes. He carefully took the water bottle, put the cap on it and set it on the floor. Then, he raised his hand and cupped the right side of O's neck, right beneath his jaw as he connected their lips again. It was soft and tender: two words that never could have described anything that had occurred between them beforehand.

O sighed and moaned at the same time, which was sexy as all hell. Not only that, but one of his arms came up and wrapped around Grimmjow's neck, while the other rested on Grimmjow's hip. Things only managed to get hotter and heavier when Grimmjow decided to introduce tongue into the equation. O's tongue was slick and warm and tasted like him. There was no other way to put it, which made it interesting and damned arousing. Grimmjow wanted more, he wanted to immerse himself in O's very being until it was second-nature to him. He wanted to make the orange-haired man scream and moan and pant and drop off to sleep, weak and thoroughly sated. Grimmjow's brows pulled together as he growled into the kiss and deepened it.

The smacking sounds were loud and sending Grimmjow into a frenzy. He wanted to push O down onto the couch and have his way with the man. After sucking O's tongue into his mouth for a bit, Grimmjow released it and ended the kiss with an audible peck. He looked into O's now soft, brown eyes and tried to catch his breath as he pressed their foreheads together.

"I wanna fuck you. Now," he murmured airily.

O's face was red, and his eyes were closed as he smirked and nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice. That would be really nice."

Grimmjow couldn't agree more. His dick was practically bursting through the pants he had on. O's scent was driving him fucking nuts, as was the feel of the shorter man. However, through the haze of lust settled over the both of them, Grimmjow realized that there was a bigger topic that needed to be discussed.

"Soooo, what's all this mean?" he asked.

O shrugged, eyes still closed and arm still around Grimmjow's neck.

"What do you want it to mean?"

"Why ya leavin' it up ta me?"

O shrugged again. "'Cuz if I get my hopes up, I might get them crushed. You might just want sex from me."

Grimmjow couldn't help but grin. So, did that mean O wanted more? Like a relationship? As a matter of fact, how long had O liked him? The questions seemed to come out of nowhere, but they were rapid and sharp.

"So, yer sayin' ya wanna be my boyfriend?" he asked, watching O's face turn a deep shade of crimson.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

Grimmjow separated their foreheads and waited until O opened his eyes and looked at him.

"What the hell's this maybe? You either do or ya don't. Ain't hard."

"Well, what about you?" O snapped, brown eyes on fire. "What do you want?"

Grimmjow was stunned into silence. He wasn't prepared to have his question thrown back at him that way. Did he want O as a boyfriend? He looked the other man over, studying the expressive brown eyes that could go from hot with anger, to smoky with lust in just a few seconds. He took note of the bright orange hair that made O stand out easily in a crowd, recalled the man's sharp wit and sarcastic tongue, and admired the guy's incredible brain power. He thought of the guy's strength and loyalty and grinned. Did he want O as a boyfriend?

Hell, yes.

"I want you in every possible way. Sex, a relationship – I want it all, O."

O's eyes went big as he stared for a long few seconds. Then, their lips were once again connected. Grimmjow had probably sounded like a sap, but it was all good. Even though he and O were busy running for their lives, they'd figure something out.

They had to.