PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM, IT IS RATHER IMPORTANT AND I WANT NO CONFUSION LATER PLEASE!

11. Booze (set in the "Romance" universe and prequel to Romance)

Grimmjow had known better than to doubt Ichigo's word when the young man had told him that American liquor did shit to him, but he'd never really known how much it did exactly. Only three shots of tequila and suddenly this sexy, ravenous beast was in his lap, devouring him. Unused to such aggressive behavior from his sex kitten, he found himself unwillingly submitting- in the middle of a crowded bar. He might be an exhibitionist, sometimes, but that was too much. And Ichigo would kill him later if he let the younger man seduce him in public and on top of a bar. So he downed his drink, talked Ichigo into another shot, whispered a few filthy suggestions in his ear that normally would've had him blushing but in this particular situation made him growl and seize Grimmjow by the hips, and let his favorite fuck drag him home and screw him through the floor, up a wall, into the mattress, and against the shower tile. Not only was it the first time he'd let someone top him, it was when he started to learn exactly how good it was to bottom when you had someone who knew what the fuck they were doing on top. Afterwards, with Ichigo taking care of him because he couldn't walk, he eyed a miniature bottle of what he had learned was Ichigo's favorite kind of tequila and wondered how he could get it into Ichigo's system after he was all healed up and in the mood to go another round.

12. Gargoyle

With a great roar, Ichigo shed his daily stone skin and stretched, tail waving happily as his wings stretched toward the sky. Flexing his arched feet to stretch his talons, he dropped into a comfortable crouch and peered over the edge of the ramparts to see what had happened during the day. The stench of blood was alarmingly potent this evening, and he found the source of the smell was the Captain of the castle Guard, a brawny blue-haired human known to the Gargoyles as Grimmjow. He was sitting on the steps that led to their aerie; humans could reach their day perches by no other path. Worried, the young Gargoyle glided down to see if he was alright. "Grimmjow. Sir Grimmjow!" The blue head jerked up a little, the oceanic blue eyes fastening on Ichigo and immediately displaying relief. "Dusk a'ready, Ichigo? I'm glad." Rolling his eyes again at the name the foreigner had assigned to him, 'One Protector', he scooped the human into his arms with his superior Gargoyle strength and carried him inside, calling for the healer and the Mage at the top of his voice. After five hours of work, the warrior was finally healed and stable, leaving him vulnerable to Ichigo's questions. "Why are you in this condition? And why were you at the bottom of the steps that allow humans to access our aerie?" Grimmjow grinned at him weakly. "Th'Scots staged a day raid. They've their own clan of Gargoyles an' knew ta attack durin' th'day. I couldn' let 'em get up ta where yer clan sleeps, I couldn' stand th'thought of 'em smashin' ya. They breached the first wall an' if I hadn't been 'ere they'da got ya…..an' I couldn' let 'em smash my favorite Gargoyle, now could I?" Up to that point, he hadn't known Gargoyles could blush.

Regardless of his embarrassment, Ichigo let himself stay crouched next to the human's bed, the human's pale hand stroking his long orange mane. Grimmjow passed out at some point, and he woke many hours later, when the sun was shining brightly into his sickroom. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to talk to Ichigo on waking, as he was confined to bed rest until further notice, but that was when he noticed the massive stone statue at his bedside, an all-too-familiar crouching Gargoyle with wings tucked close to his back. He had asked once why Ichigo and the others struck such strange, fearsome poses before going to sleep, and he had been told it was because it made it easier to stretch the stiffness out of their muscles. Touched by the dedication Ichigo showed, Grimmjow managed to get his hand back into the snarled mane, which interestingly enough had an impression in the stone that perfectly cradled his hand. Had the youngling let him touch him even as he turned to stone in the dawn light? Such was an honor that no human had known, as it required an extreme degree of trust that no human had earned. Even the Gargoyles did not touch each other when it was time to sleep unless they were mates. Just then the sun set, and beneath his hand he felt cracks spider-webbing through the stone skin. The statue burst into life beneath his touch, body quivering with the roar he knew was held back for the sake of those sleeping in the infirmary.

Shaking himself like a wet dog, the Gargoyle sent the last shards of his stone skin scattering. Twisting his body and extending his wings as far as they would go, he had just decided himself suitably stretched when he felt something touching his tail. Something warm was touching his tail. He curbed his natural instinct to pounce on it, remembering he was in the infirmary and a curious child could be innocently wondering why the 'pretty tribesman' had a tail. Goodness, that had been an embarrassing night. Looking over his shoulder and past his wings, he found that his guardsman friend was the one touching him. Keeping in mind that the man was injured and quite likely dosed with laudanum, he gently extracted his tail from the human's grip. At the drowsy, confused expression on Grimmjow's face, Ichigo chuckled and thrust his cheek against the hand instead, as it was still hovering in the air. "Gargoyles have very sensitive tails," he softly explained, as he often did to his human shadow, "and it is the touch of either a mate or a rookery sibling that is allowed. Unless you want to be considered my claimed mate and bound to me by the Clan's laws until one of us dies, I suggest you keep your hands off my tail outside of emergencies." Grimmjow appeared to think this over for a moment, then his hand slid up into Ichigo's hair to pull him closer, his other hand finding and winding the Gargoyle's tail around his fist. "But I do 'ave an emergency, Ichi…I've gone and fell in love like a stupid fuck. I went an' fell in love with you, Ichigo……now if that ain't an emergency, what th'hell is?" Thus the first Gargoyle-Human mated pair not only opened the doors to crossbreeding, but for same-gender couples throughout all of Ireland.

It wouldn't be until several years later that it was discovered that Human-Gargoyle pairs were immortal, or that they would have children in alternating births- human child one pregnancy, Gargoyle egg the next. It also found to Ichigo and Grimmjow's delight that male Gargoyles could get pregnant, even by human partners.

13. Doctor

After the Winter War was won and he was abandoned by his soul reaper friends, Ichigo had always been restless. The town was absolutely soaked in his reiatsu, and the mix of Hollow within that reiatsu marked it as his territory, making Hollows of anything below adjucas class stayed far the fuck away, so there weren't a lot of opponents he could take his restless energy out on either. To get his adrenaline fix, and with his deep-seated need to protect that which was his (and often that which wasn't), he wound up following his Dad's footsteps to become a doctor and then became exclusively an ER doctor. Too long doing quick patch-ups and field training had sunk into his psyche and there was nobody faster than he when it came to stopping the decline of someone bleeding to death. He was also the only doctor in the ER who had never had to step out to puke after a particularly nasty case came in. Renji and Ishida after Szayel was through with butchering their internal organs had been left to him until Unohana showed up, and literally holding and stitching someone's organs back together in the middle of a battlefield more than topped any car accident or gang fight patient he'd ever see. At the end of another quintuple-shift, which he was known for because if necessary he could manage six 18-hour shifts back to back and still function, he shucked his scrubs and coat, cleaned off the blood that had soaked through his clothes, and headed for home. Having spent seven years completely cut off from the world of spirits, he was taken by surprise by the appearance of a blue-haired rival from Hueco Mundo outside the hospital when he left.

Staring up at Grimmjow, Ichigo looked at him blankly for a moment before laughing and shaking his head. Gesturing for the Espada to follow him, he walked home to his cold, dark, sparse single-story. When the panther hesitated outside the door, Ichigo used the come-hither gesture he'd seen a thousand times and never thought he'd use, sticking his arm out the door and using his index finger to gesture his guest inside. Grimmjow heeded the encouragement, and Ichigo laughed to himself at the thought of him and Grimmjow in the situation in which that gesture was usually used. Coming into the living room with two steaming cups of coffee, he set one on the table in front of his most comfortable chair and used his now-free hand to shove Grimmjow into the seat before taking a seat himself. At the panther's irritated exclamation, his answer was a blunt, "Couldn't let you stand while I sit, it's a psychological thing. Now, I just got off working 90 hours without a break or any sleep from the Emergency Room. I'm in no condition to fight if that's what you want, not until I've slept and eaten. If that's not what you came for….well, I'm listening." Looking uncharacteristically off-balance, Grimmjow wrapped his hands around the cup and eyed his rival. "Just wanted t'see what yer up ta lately, shinigami. What do ya do in this…Emergency Room?" Ichigo took a sip of the bitter black brew he was so addicted to. "What all doctors do, I suppose, just under more pressure and in less time." Now distinctly confused, Grimmjow's blue brows drew together. "What's a doctor?"

14. Teacher

Running a dojo and teaching kids how to fight for their lives with swords, spears, and any other weapon they could bring him hadn't been what Ichigo had thought he'd be doing at forty-five, but that's what he was doing. He was overseeing the general practice sessions, the full-scale physical Zangetsu he'd had casted resting comfortably on his back, when a new but oh-so-familiar face entered the dojo, quietly and with deference to authority he'd never displayed in his previous life. "Kurosaki-Sensei? I was told you take any student truly dedicated to learning his art…have I interrupted your training class?" Ignoring the lump in his throat, Ichigo answered quietly, "No, you haven't interrupted anything. Which of the Attack Arts do you wish to learn?" His eyes respectfully on the floor, the newcomer grasped the hilt of the sword in his belt. "The Art of Swordsmanship, Master." Closing his eyes, Ichigo nodded and gestured the teen into his private training rooms. "Then we'll have to see how proficient you are with Pa- with that blade of yours to begin with. Your name?" Holding his sword tighter and wondering if Swordmaster Kurosaki had been about to say 'Pantera', the trainee-hopeful followed him into the back room. "I am Grimmjow Jaggerjack, sir." He did not fail to notice the hard shudder that went though his new sensei at the name. "…I think yer made for that sword, Grimmjow." Wondering why the sword master said his name so familiarly, and easily, like he'd been saying it for years, Grimmjow bowed his head deferentially and forced his voice to stay soft and smooth. "I'll trust that to your instincts, Teacher."

15. Reincarnation

Sick of the blue-haired ghost that followed him around like a lost puppy, Jurino Katsure finally lost his temper and grabbed the ghost by the lapels of his tattered white jacket, dragged him into an alleyway, and shoved him forcefully into the brick. Snarling, he demanded to know why the fuck he wouldn't leave him alone. The stranger smiled at him sadly, bringing his arms up to hold the young man close to his chest in a strange embrace that, though strained, was extremely loving. "I've known you seven times, by seven names, over seven lifetimes. The first time I knew you, your name was Ichigo Kurosaki. That is who I remember you as. You and I were lovers, six lifetimes ago… but each of these reincarnations of you lacks the memories no matter how I've prodded your recall." With a bitter laugh, the stranger grabbed Jurino's left hand and laced the fingers with his own, showcasing their matching rings for the younger man. "And like a goddamn fool, you talked me into promising forever and always, through all yer fuckin' human reincarnations. If I didn't love ya so much, shinigami, I'd really hate you." Jurino winced, his free hand clapping to his temple. After a few moments of grimacing and a couple of pained grunts, the familiar bronze eyes blinked and looked up into cyan, a slow smile breaking out on the previously scowling lips. "Took you six fuckin' lifetimes to figure out the trigger phrase I set, jackass," Ichigo chuckled, drawing his beloved closer, "who knew it would take that long for you to have the balls to remind me you love me?"

16. War

This thing they were calling the Winter War, the battles against Aizen, the plotting and the subterfuge…. All it was, really, was a glorified nightmare. A waking glorified nightmare. Pacing the perimeter of the city because he just couldn't sleep these days, Ichigo had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his sword on his back. He could draw fast enough to kill any minor hollows that popped up, but he was so exhausted that if it wasn't completely and totally necessary, he wasn't fighting anyone tonight. Pausing on his walk to stand still and press the heels of his hands into his eyes, he ignored the abrupt explosion of reiatsu as he continued the walk the path he'd managed to imprint on his eyelids over the past few weeks. He didn't give a fuck if Grimmjow came after him with sword drawn and fraccion flanking; he wasn't fighting the battle-happy bastard tonight. "Oi Kurosaki-"

"Fuck off, Jaggerjack; it's four in the morning living world time, I haven't slept in three days, and I am not in the mood for your shit." Grimmjow, oddly enough, looked affronted and surprised all at once, sort off like a cat when you flick its nose or something it finds equally repulsive. "I, uh, was jus' gonna say ya look like shit an' oughta be getting' some sleep 'stead of running 'round the livin' world," the Espada muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, "but it looks like ya a'ready know that." Ichigo laughed bitterly, purposely ignoring the fact that Grimmjow was walking with him now. "Yeah, I know that. Adolescent humans aren't made to deal with war, Grimmjow, and it shows."

17. Rebel

Well, he hadn't really meant to start a rebellion against Soul Society just because he defied the Central 46, but it looked like that's what he'd done. After being named the Rebel Leader, he'd gone and set up a base in Hueco Mundo, and that was where he sat at present, on top of the seven-foot-tall tombstone-like structure that served as his command post and 'throne'. A motley assembly of hollows, shinigami, viziards and Arrancar were gathered beneath, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger to try and stave off the headache he knew was coming. Why hadn't he put stop to this insanity already? "Ichigo-san, are you unwell?" Oh yeah, that's why. Sighing, he let his hand drop from his face and gave Ulquiorra a tired smile. "Just irritated and stressed as usual, Ulquiorra. How's the mood among the troops?" The pale Arrancar that served as one of his best generals shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "They grow restless, sir, and agitated. Most of the hollow-based beings are demanding to know why you have not launched a full-scale attack." Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "The generals included?" At the distinctly uncomfortable nod, he sighed and gestured the slim male to sit next to him. "Do I need to establish my authority again or will a meeting of the generals be enough to quell the murmurs of unrest?" The Cuarta blushed, remembering the powerful and primal display that had earned the teen immediate dominance over almost all the gathered hollow-based creatures. "A m-meeting should be enough, sir." The Death Berry chuckled at the blush and kissed the smaller man's forehead affectionately. "Alright then, run along to my territory while I gather the other generals." Blushing even harder, Ulquiorra scampered off as ordered.

Ichigo sighed fondly, thinking to himself that Ulquiorra was a good kid and it had been worth it to defy Central 46 to save his life after the little one had switched sides and brought down Aizen. Standing and bellowing at the top of his considerably loud voice to summon his officers, he never noticed the pair of cerulean blue eyes watching him from the ground, nor that those eyes flared with jealousy whenever they landed on Ulquiorra. Grimmjow, Ichigo's second-best general, growled under his breath as he heeded the summons of his leader, hoping fervently that they went to battle soon so he could outshine that pale pansy and become the most favored general. After all, everyone knew that Ichigo gave his favors where he willed, but being the best general gave you much better opportunities because you got to spend a lot of time with him going over battle plans alone in his territory. (Note: as they're in the middle of Hueco Mundo, "territory" is the equivalent of private quarters, and in Ichigo's case it also counts as his Meeting Tent if he wants to talk to someone privately.)

18. Riot

He hadn't meant for this to happen. This was what he'd been trying to stop, trying to avoid, and it seemed he'd brought it about while trying to stop it. He should've known it wouldn't work- pirates had always been prone to rioting, especially if they thought Navy was nearby. He supposed the Navy officer coat he'd taken from that fucker that tried to kill him two days ago (Noai-tra or something) wasn't exactly helping. Figuring there was nothing else for it, he drew his sword in one hand and a pistol in the other and started fighting his way out. Once safely back on his ship, covered in blood and a considerable amount of gore, he called to his crew though the riot so loudly his voice cracked. He watched them trickle back onto the ship one by one, and as they cast off he stayed perched in the rigging, pistol reloaded and held ready. His gaze raked the crowd, and the bright blue hair of the moron that had started a riot caught his eye, the man still rabble-rousing even as he fought off the other men five and six at a time. Ichigo trained his pistol on that bastard, who'd apparently started all this madness for the fun of it, and aimed right between the eyes. The stranger seemed to sense this, because at that moment he swung around and stared Ichigo straight in the eye, cyan to amber. After a moment, Ichigo sighed and tucked the pistol back into his belt and climbed down from the rigging. "Uh, Cap'n? Why'd ya let 'im go? I never seen ya let a man live afta ya got 'im in yer sight, sir." Grabbing a rope and making it into a loop, which he then used his considerable strength to fling back onto the dock, where the stranger was waiting to catch it, Ichigo grinned.

"Ya wouldn' believe what a man like 'im can say wit' his eyes, Renji, an' 'e tells me he's a good shot an' a strong enough fighter ta be of use ta me. He also promised on 'is black 'eart that if he betrays me, he'll die like a man at my 'and. An me, well," he smirked as the muscled stranger finally hauled himself over the rail, "I'm a good enoug' shot t'let ya prove everythin' yer eyes say."

19. Bruises

Not everyone understood what it meant to be bruised down to your bones, but that was something Ichigo was deeply familiar with. Even as a kid, when Tatsuki was still kicking his ass every day, he'd known what it was to be hurting so bad you could barely move, even if it looked like little or nothing on the outside. This, however, definitely looked about as bad as it felt, Ichigo mused as he eyed the black-purple bruises that was splotched over his skin from head to toe. Turning a little to assess the damage in the mirror, he hissed at the one on his back covering nearly solid from shoulders to beltline- oooh, that one was really something, wasn't it? The hot shower had made him feel a little better, less stiff at least, but the heat had really brought the blood out, making the bruising stand out against his tan skin all that much more. He'd just gotten into bed, dressed in nothing but some light sleep pants to keep pressure off his skin, when his hollow badge started screaming. With an irritated huff, he snatched it and freed his soul, tucked his body in (he would want to go to sleep immediately when he got back) and headed out. As he came up on Grimmjow, he was yawning from the late hour and lack of sleep, which is why he missed the Arrancars' expression change from bloodthirsty to irritated and from irritated to furious in only a moment. When he closed his mouth, he used the hand not holding his sword to rub at his eye and noted the furious expression. "Ya can't oust a human outta bed at two in the mornin' an' not expect him t'be tired, Grimmjow," he said irritably, "so don't look so goddamn offended. I'm human, I need sleep, and I ain't slept in three nights so I'm gettin' pretty damn sick of this. I like a good fight, but I'm tired."

His expression changing to confused, the Espada stared at him for a moment, frowning. "Shinigami, don't ya realize what ya look like?" Ichigo's answer came from around another yawn. "Other than exhausted and like shit?" Grimmjow spat, which was strange only because he wasn't spitting blood nor in Ichigo's direction, and stuffed one hand in his pocket, the other grabbing Ichigo's free hand. "Yer beat all t'hell, Kurosaki. 'Ave ya seen yerself lately? Yer in no condition t'give me a good fight like this." Pulling the hand up in front of the teenager's face, the orange-haired male saw the bruising that had been present on his human body and his eyes widened. "Shit, I knew they got me good, but not good enough to bruise my soul along with my body! Goddamn! Knew that fucker with the pipe was trouble, and the guy with the chain too. Fuuuuuck…" Shaking his head, he extracted his hand from Grimmjow's grip and stepped back a little. "Doesn't matter anyway, I've fought you with worse." The blue eyebrows came together so fast Ichigo swore there should've been a loud clap to accompany it. "I ain't never seen ya like this, shinigami, what the hell you talkin' about?" Seeing as Grimmjow apparently was after answers more than a fight, the younger swung his sword up to rest it on his shoulder. "Well, usually it doesn't show up and especially not on my soul body, but this," he indicated the bruising on his body with a sweeping gesture, "is standard operating, more or less. I can't remember the last time I've been completely without bruises and I haven't gone into a fight entirely uninjured in years. What's the big deal? You look like I just told you I've been holding back half my power all this time."

Fisting his hands in his own hair, Grimmjow snarled. "Ya are! Bein' totally rested and uninjured before goin' inta battle is half th'fight! Ya were fightin' with less than full strength from the beginnin' an' it pisses me off!" Yawning again, this time it was with enough force to make Ichigo sway on his feet and the blunet steadied him. "Easy Kurosaki, easy. C'mon, let's get you home and in bed." Yawning yet again, Ichigo staggered home with Grimmjow's support, thinking to himself that if the Arrancar was going to wait until his bruises healed to fight him, he'd be waiting a long, long time.

20. Rider

Sitting on the gate fence with his leather boots propped on one of the lower bars, Ichigo tipped his hat forward so the brim shaded his eyes and eyed the brawny red-head that was riding Fury and, predictably, having a hard time of it. There he went, crashing to the ground after only four seconds and nearly being trampled beneath the bull's large hooves. The only one who'd ever managed to stay on Fury the full eight seconds was Ichigo himself, and that was only after years of being thrown around by bulls, broncos, and boyfriends. Of course, for the past three years it'd only been the bulls and broncos as he followed the Rodeo from city to city. He'd got sick of the boyfriends beating on him after the fifth or sixth and had sworn them off until further notice. It was a pity about the redhead though, he was kinda cute. But Ichigo had made a private vow that he wouldn't consider anyone until they'd managed to stay on Fury the full eight seconds. Unlike other bulls, it took a gentle touch to keep Fury calm enough not to buck you completely off, and anyone who could use that gentle touch might just be the kind of boyfriend that wouldn't start smacking him around first thing. That would be nice. Very nice. Hearing them call him up, he looked down at the white horse he'd be riding and grinned. "C'mon, Shiro," he drawled, "give yer King a real ride so we can give this here audience a show." The horse snorted and danced in the gate, then shook itself restlessly. He always got antsy when his rider was Ichigo; the professional rider swore that horse was smart enough to understand human speech most days. Then again, maybe he was- god knew he could do everything else with little trouble, from figuring out how to get at a breeding mare to ramming or bucking anyone Ichigo distrusted and thoroughly trampling them into the dirt.

Climbing on, Ichigo anchored his heels against the girth of the saddle and wrapped his left hand around the saddlehorn, set his hat more firmly on his head and gave Shiro a little squeeze. "Remember not to hurt yerself out there like that muscle-bound brute Zaraki, baby, don't work so hard at gettin' me off ya that ya break two legs like he did, that moron. He'll heal perfectly, by the way, just won't be able to participate in any more rodeos for a year or so while the bone sets fully." Shiro shook his head and snorted, apparently insulted to be compared to a horse so stupid he'd broken both his forelegs when he tried so hard to buck his rider he'd flipped his entire body around and tumbled tail over head, nearly breaking his back. The only reason he hadn't broken his spine was his forelegs had snapped at the perfect moment and brought him to earth, thus saving him from bucking his back violently in two. Before Ichigo could reply to the snort, the gate opened and the albino horse shot out, bucking and jumping for all he was worth, eyes rolling, head tossing, the entirety of his body rippling like water. His orange haired rider held on to the saddlehorn with one hand and his hat with the other, a whoop of surprise and joy and maybe a little nervousness bursting from his throat before he could control it or modulate it. Shiro picked up on his ever-so-slight nervousness and responded, escalating his jumps and twists, but never so far that Ichigo feared the horse would hurt himself. When the albino finally tired himself out (after numerous bucks, jumps, twists, and three flips that scared Ichigo out of his goddamned mind) and stood in the middle of the ring, panting like he'd just run the Kentucky Derby at full tilt, the cowboy on his back clicked his tongue with a note of authority and coaxed the exhausted bronco into a walk with a gentle press of his heels.

Obeying the directions of his rider's knees and heels, Shiro let himself be steered back to gate and then stable, where he knew his grooms were waiting to rub him down, walk him, and then feed and water him. Had it been anyone else he'd simply have waited until their grip loosened and then bucked them off, but Ichigo was the one he called King. Well, that and Ichigo didn't let up until Shiro was held by both grooms and he was actually off the horse. That heels-set-against-the-saddle-girth trick made it damn near impossible to buck him when he was also holding the saddlehorn, and the few times he had been bucked (mind you, this was before he had too much experience) while using that method, it had prevented him from getting anything caught anywhere on the horse, which saved him from extreme injury or death by trampling, which had happened to other riders who weren't as smart as the college graduate with a degree in physics that just so happened to have orange hair and rode Shiro every chance he got. Swinging off and down in one fluid movement, Ichigo grabbed a towel and brush and started helping with the rub down. When finished, he patted Shiro's flank fondly with a grin. "That was quite th'theatric show, babe. If I didn't know better, I'd swear ya were trying to top Zaraki in stupidity. Honestly, flips? With a rider? Yer lucky ya didn't break yer neck and kill us both." Shiro snickered, which came out as a whicker, and flicked his tail so it hit his favorite cowboy in the head. True, that had been a bit more than necessary, but if a trick show pony could manage it (admittedly without rider) then so could Shiro. He'd practiced in the paddock for weeks to make sure he could pull it off, after all. He laughed at that thought.

After he was fed and watered, Shiro put his head over the door so he could talk to the blue-black stallion down the aisle- he was a fighter and more importantly a biter, so he'd been separated from the other horses. "Oi Grimmjow, I hear Zaraki will recover fine and be back with us after a year or so. Ain't he lucky, breakin' both legs an' still able to compete." Grimmjow tossed his head, teeth gleaming as he bared them in what would be a predatory smile in a human. "Lucky ain't th'half of it. Not only does he not lose the competition, he gets t'be waited on hand an' hoof by the pretty vets overseein' his recovery." Shiro sighed, though it sounded more like a snort. "That's not all- King, or rather, Ichigo, attends t'the injured personally 'long as they ain't gonna gore 'im; tha's what I heard from Fury an' th'other bulls, anyway. He's more concerned with our well-bein' than mosta our owners are….an' we both know Zaraki's gonna take the chance to cozy up t'him every chance he gets." Grimmjow snapped at the wood of his stall, expression furious as he tore off and spit out chunks of it. "Goddamn bastard, how dare he? He knows Ichi's off-limits until we're done with th'competition! We agreed he oughta be courted properly- dated an' loved an' married th'human way, not our way. Bein' pursued by a God is one thing, but by a God pretendin' t'be a horse for the sake of a bet is quite anotha!" He bucked out of sheer frustration, his powerful kick nearly breaking the back of his (reinforced) stall. "'Sides, a man like Ichi needs a steady, firm man, an' Zaraki is unstable an' overbearing." Shiro shook himself, mane whipping as his neck twisted.

"Actually, I don' think any o' us could ever win King over, even as human men, an' I know fer a fact he woul' outright reject an' fight a firm hand." At Grimmjow's curious head tilt, Shiro explained, "I been close t'Ichi from th'beginnin'. He talks t'me. Best I kin figure, he's been submittin' ta an alpha male all his romantic life an' fer most of his adult one, and every single onea them bastards abused his willin' submission, hurtin' him in ways he din't like, smackin' 'im around, and makin' him take care o' them instead of tendin t'his needs with the exception o' his father, but even his Sire was a whack-job an' attacked 'im at odd moments. He's come up wit' some kinda test that's gotta be passed b'fore he'll even consider someone fer datin', an' though I don' know what it is, I'm pretty sure we couldn' pass it. He's been 'urt too much by forceful men; if there's anythin' he don't need in a man an' a mate, it's firmness. He'd kill any man who tried t'exercise power or dominance over 'im now an' I can't say I blame 'im." Mind dancing with images of faceless muscle head men beating on the sweet, loving, gentle Ichigo, Grimmjow felt almost like crying for the pain the young man had suffered. "Yeah, me neither. Me neither." Closing his eyes, Grimmjow rested his cheek against the damaged doorposts and tried to erase the foul images with his favorite fantasy- the powerfully muscled, steel-core Ichigo he was familiar with being folded into his human arms and melting into the soft, delicate, sensitive young man with a heart of gold that he'd once seen tending to another injured horse. That softness, that sweetness, in what was normally such a hard, unyielding, too-strong-for-his-age young man was what Grimmjow imagined a lover would know of the orange-head. Only a lover or perhaps a husband would be trusted enough to see Ichigo drop his guard enough to relax those iron muscles and retract that core of steel from his soul that made him one of the most skilled rodeo riders in the country.

A/N: for the record, the base idea for Gargoyles as a species did indeed come of the 90's series "Gargoyles" and I DO NOT OWN THAT SPECIES NOR THE IDEA, only the whole male-Gargoyles-get-pregnant-even-by-human-males thing is mine. Note my mention of the Scottish Gargoyles- that would be GOLIATH'S CLAN before the betrayal and they will, by the way, be making an appearance later. Further, for the record, I have never had the pleasure of attending a rodeo and have absolutely no idea whatsoever how the bronco-riding goes and thus my vagueness, if I have anything wrong PLEASE do not bother correcting me as the way I have it written makes the story for further installments of "Rider". The only reason I know you're supposed to stay on a bull for eight seconds is because it's in many many many songs and I have seen, briefly as my father channel-flipped, one or two guys ride and get thrown. I also, as one can most likely realize, have no idea how it works when the horse or bull is removed from the ring; where they go, how they are cared for, no clue, BUT this sets my story for the parts that come after so please do not ask me to change it because I'm acknowledging here and now that I am writing that part out of my ass and it's probably completely wrong. If you feel the need to point out my mistakes, please message me and do not flame or next time I'll get it wrong on purpose.