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The Fairy Prince	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 3401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
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- 2
- 3
CHAPTER 2: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LOOKING-GLASS
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXOXO
It was madness. That was the only way Ichigo could think to describe the sight before him. A tall, skinny man pointing a long sword, while standing over a bleeding, blue-haired man, and a crying green-haired girl. Somehow, he'd gone to sleep, while he and Shinji were entering the apartment, and this was a dream. Yeah, just a dream.
"Ichi...what the eff?" Shinji asked.
A dream that Shinji was having as well.
"I have no fuckin' idea," Ichigo breathed.
The tall, skinny man snarled and brandished his sword, when Ichigo took a step forward. He went on speaking that strange gibberish, but Ichigo had to piss. Badly.
"Fuck, Shin, I gotta piss!" he whispered, and Shinji, that little bastard, giggled.
"I suggest the floor, 'cause he ain't lettin' ya move."
"...What part of that is funny? And whose idea of a joke is this? And who the fuck even uses swords anymore? This isn't the fuckin' fuedal era!" Ichigo ranted, agitation escalating with each question, while Shinji just laughed. "Shin, are you high? This shit isn't funny!"
"Don't get pissy with me!" Shinji returned, and upon realization of what he said, dissolved into laughter. Again.
Just then, the green-haired girl cried out, as she gripped the blue-haired male's injured shoulder, and gently shook. Soft sobs racked her slender frame, as she covered her face with her hands. It was then that Shinji got serious.
"Oi, Urahara'll kill us if a guy dies in here," he whispered. Ichigo nodded, the urge to relieve himself now forgotten.
He was so fucking grateful to be a med student, at that moment. Also, for all of those years of helping his old man out at the family clinic. It would definitely come in handy. Ichigo straightened his back, instantly going into what his little sister, Yuzu, called his "doctor mode".
He started forward, but tall guy swung the sword around to point at his chest, and he pulled up short. Annoyance flared and spread across Ichigo's face.
"I'm trying to help him," he tried soothingly. Tall guy frowned, then looked back at the green-haired girl uncertainly, as if asking her what Ichigo had said.
Suddenly, Shinji pushed forward, face stormy and hands on his narrow hips.
"Look!" He jabbed a finger in tall guy's direction. "Ichi only wants to help your friend." He pointed from Ichigo to the male stretched out on the floor for emphasis. "Ichi, go get your shit, I'll distract him."
Ichigo glared at the back of Shinji's head and growled. What did he have planned? A low, but deep groan emanated from the floor where the injured man lay. Fuck it. He couldn't just sit back and allow someone to die in front of him, Samurai Jack be damned.
Ichigo hurried to the linen closet in the bathroom, grabbed his first aid kit, and headed back into the living room, only to damn near topple over in shock.
His friend had clearly lost his fucking mind.
Shinji stood a couple of feet in front of the tall guy, who now had his sword sheathed at his side, and was wearing a look that was a mixture of shock and amusement. Why, you ask?
Because Shinji was clad only in his underwear, which, embarrassingly, turned out to be a purple fucking thong with little pink hearts all over.
Jesus Christ, Shin.
Shinji noticed the look Ichigo was sending him, and shrugged, wearing a sheepish grin.
"I had to do somethin'," he stated.
"I don't even wanna know," Ichigo mumbled, as he slowly edged toward the injured male.
Tall guy instantly bristled and reached for his sword, but the green-haired girl jumped to her feet, and grabbed his hand that was resting on the sword's hilt. They began arguing in that strange language, but when the girl pointed at Ichigo, and then to the kit he carried, tall guy immediately stopped fussing.
Ichigo started forward again and noticed tall guy didn't move, but his glare didn't lessen either. Ichigo knelt beside the blue-haired male, and had to suppress a gasp. The blunet turned bleary-yet gorgeous-blue eyes up to him, squinted, then instantly passed out.
Ichigo swallowed nervously as he studied the wound. It was pretty deep, but, unfortunately, whatever had pierced his shoulder hadn't gone through. At least, he didn't think so. He needed to turn him over, but he would need help to do so. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at Shinji, glad to see the idiot had put his clothes back on.
"Shin, I need to lift him to see if there's an exit wound," he stated, knowing Shinji would understand the implied request.
Shinji narrowed his eyes at tall guy, before moving forward to assist Ichigo. He knelt beside the blunet's head, and gently grasped the broad shoulder.
"Ready?" Ichigo asked, taking hold of the larger male's rock-hard bicep, the skin surprisingly soft. Shinji nodded. "Go."
With no small amount of difficulty, they turned the male slightly to the side. Like Ichigo had suspected, there was no exit wound, but, what looked like the cause of the wound, was trapped beneath his body, as if it had been pulled out and discarded. An arrow? What the fuck? Damn, but this guy was heavy.
Once they settled him back to the floor, Ichigo asked Shinji to fetch him a bowl and clean towels. While the blond scurried off, he took that time to sit back on his heels, and look the blue-haired male over.
Tall. He had to be at least 6'1", 6'2". He was fucking ripped, but not obscene like those idiots that posed in competitions and shit, wearing nothing but tiny speedos. Ichigo barely suppressed a shudder. Gross.
No, this guy had just enough muscle to make one drool, er, admire. He was wearing weird clothes that consisted of an ash-gray, sleeveless top, and matching pants that seemed to be tucked into what looked like athletic tape, at the knee. The tape wrapped all the way down to his ankles, where his feet were clad in waraji. (The shinigami sandals) He too had a sword strapped at his side, but a strange-looking silver band was wrapped around his right upper arm. Wonder what that's about.
When Ichigo observed his face, he felt small shivers creeping up and down his spine. The man was beautiful. Smooth, flawless skin, a straight regal nose, full, soft-looking lips, and those ocean-blue eyes. Then, Ichigo's eyes wandered to the mile-long, bright blue hair that fanned around him. He was sorely tempted to run his fingers through it, but he'd rather not die yet, and from the dark looks being sent his way from tall guy, he had a feeling that's what would happen.
Shinji bounded over and placed the items on the floor beside Ichigo, eyebrow cocked and eyes glinting with amusement. Ichigo frowned, avoiding the seemingly all-knowing gaze and went to work. He hated that Shinji caught him checking the guy out.
He was in the middle of stitching up the wound, when his eyes strayed to his patient's ear, and his movements stilled. What. The. Fuck? Ichigo blinked several times, still staring, his mouth open in shock. The blue locks had fallen to the side, exposing the ear that had been previously hidden, and Ichigo just knew his mind had said "fuck you" and danced out of his head. He was staring at a pointed ear.
Ichigo giggled, causing Shinji to glance at him uncertainly. It really wasn't funny, but if he hadn't have laughed, he probably would be tearing his hair from his scalp in large chunks. He was not crazy. Nope. So, why the fuck was that pointed ear still there? It was mocking him, taunting him, chanting "you're losing your mind" in a sing-song voice.
He took a deep, cleansing breath, and absolutely refused to look anywhere near that lying ass ear. Focus on the job at hand. Stitch up this wound and patch up the guy's shoulder. Then what?
"Shin, what the fuck are we gonna do with these people? They're obviously not from around here," Ichigo whispered. Shinji sucked his teeth.
"First of all, stop whispering! They can't understand a word we're saying, just like we can't understand them. Secondly, what the fuck're we supposed to do?"
"Well, we can't just let them roam the streets! I mean, these two have swords for shit's sake!" Ichigo snapped. "And, this guy is gonna need to rest."
"Fine, Mother Theresa, where do you propose they sleep? The floor? 'Cause they sure as hell ain't comin' in my room! Like you said, they have fuckin' swords, and I'd like to wake up not thinly sliced and ready for roasting!"
Ichigo snorted and went back to his task. No longer than ten minutes had passed, when he was cleaning the area one last time, and wrapping the wound in gauze. Once he was done, he sat back on his heels, but was suddenly tackled backwards. The green-haired girl had thrown herself at Ichigo, smothering him with overzealous kisses and hugging him tightly. He had to resist the overwhelming urge to dry-heave from such close female contact.
Get away, get away, get awaaaaay.
She finally relinquished her hold, and moved over to tall guy, smiling happily. Jesus, she was strong as fucking hell. Ichigo slowly sat up, trying hard not to glare at the girl, and collected his used equipment. After taking the bowl to the sink, and replacing the kit in its place in the bathroom, he went back to the living room.
So, now they were back to square one. The blunet had to rest, and Ichigo was damned sure that the other two weren't going to leave him there. He sighed, coming to an inevitable conclusion, and Shinji, as if reading his mind, again sucked his teeth, and planted his hands on his hips.
"Your good samaritan shit is gonna get ya killed one day!" Ichigo just glared, and Shinji finally relented. "Fine! BUT! I take Stick, 'cause he is sorta...hot, and if I gotta have one of them in my room, I'd rather it be him. Even if he could slice me to bits, at least I'd die happy, not to mention, satisfied," Shinji waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and grinned.
"No! Don't you think that's the last thing we need right now? If you're that fuckin' horny, go fuck Stark! He wants you pretty badly," Ichigo argued. There was no way he was going to let his best friend sleep with a stranger, that could very well kill them both.
"I never knew you were a cockblocker, Ichi," Shinji said with a pout.
Ichigo rolled his eyes, but realized another dilemma. How the fuck were they gonna move the heavy and very unconscious male? He wasn't a pushover, neither was Shinji, but...this guy was probably heavy even before he became dead weight.
Ichigo chanced a glance at tall guy, started to speak, but changed his mind upon seeing the unfriendly glare being sent, and beckoned the girl over instead. She cocked her head to the side and edged closer, gray eyes wide and gleaming. Ichigo pointed at Blue, and then waved his hand in the universal "follow me" gesture, as he headed for his bedroom.
The girl nodded, and after a few words with tall guy, followed Ichigo. He frowned. That wasn't really what he meant. He turned to correct her, and his mouth dropped open when he realized tall guy was carrying Blue. Bridal style, no less. What the fuck? His wide eyes moved to Shinji, relieved to see that he was just as dumbfounded. Who the hell were these people? Where the fuck were they from?
Ichigo led them to his room on stiff legs, and pointed at his bed. Even though it was a queen-sized western-styled bed, and would fit the both of them easily, the guy was a stranger. Plus, it was a little rude to put an injured man on the floor. So, he'd set up his extra futon beside the bed, and sleep there.
Tall guy settled Blue on the bed, while the girl removed his sword, and propped it against the nightstand. Really, who carried swords these days? These three were a weird bunch, and although they made Ichigo nervous, he wouldn't just turn them out on the streets with nowhere to go, and an injured comrade to boot. With a last glance at Blue, he decided to continue ignoring the issue of that pointed ear he'd seen earlier, and go take a shower.
Fuck, he needed some sleep.
XOXOXOXO
Gin Ichimaru stood before Aizen and his troops, wearing a slick grin. He'd only allowed himself to be used in order to keep tabs on Aizen, then thwart his intentions at the last moment, and that plan had gone off without a hitch.
Aizen was naive. Yes, Gin was a fairy, but his father had also been a very powerful sorcerer, and had only seen fit to teach his only son everything he knew. Including La Garganta.
The wind picked up, ruffling his short silver locks, and whistling through the surrounding trees of the crystal palace's private gardens. The silence was thick, no one daring to move for fear of repercussions from Aizen, who was, at the moment, staring benignly at Gin. Gin knew better, though. Aizen was furious. He could see it in the tense muscles, and the way his hands twitched at his sides every so often.
"Are you going to kill me, Sosuke Aizen?" Gin taunted, his smile widening.
"Yes. Just like I did with your filthy father," the brown-haired man drawled, his lips curving into a small grin.
Gin knew Aizen was trying to get a rise out of him then make him lose his focus, and even knowing that, he still couldn't suppress the pursing of his lips and the flashing of his scarlet eyes. He hated Aizen with a white-hot passion. Gin would be the one to kill him one day, but unfortunately, today was not that day. There was much work to be done.
"Yes, well, sadly, I can't allow you to do that. Besides," he started, as he withdrew a small pouch from the inside pocket of his long, magenta robes. "I'll be the one killing you."
With that, he tossed the pouch to Aizen, and disappeared in a wisp of silver smoke. Let's see what he does with that.
XOXOXOXO
Aizen was not pleased. Not one little bit. To think that Gin was strong enough to create La Garganta and assist the fairy prince and princess to another world, was utterly preposterous, and yet, it had occurred. Unacceptable.
His reflexes alone caused him to catch the small object Gin tossed to him, and he should have known better, because upon contact with it, the leather casing melted into a shiny, dark liquid, and started crawling up his forearm. Eyes wide, he tried to wipe the strange substance away, but that only served to spread it to his opposite arm. All at once...it stopped. The shimmering, black liquid covered both arms completely, ending at the shoulders, but didn't progress from there.
Frowning in confusion and a small sense of dread, all he could do was stare at the offending presence. Then, the pain began. It started as a dull throb, but soon escalated into an all-out searing sting that refused to let up. Aizen prided himself on normally being able to mask his true emotions and reactions, however, this pain, this hurt...was unbearable.
He grit his teeth, and fell to his knees, body breaking into a cold sweat. Damned sorcerer! He would die! Aizen glanced back at Tousen, who was rushing to his side.
"T-Tousen, find Ichimaru. B-bring him to me alive!" he ordered, before the pain consumed him, and darkness overwhelmed him.
XOXOXOXO
His shoulder ached, but it didn't throb and sting unbearably as before. He opened his eyes slowly to take in his surroundings, and like a speeding arrow, he recalled what had happened, and that it had not been a dream, if where he now lay was any indication.
Mother. Father. His people. What the fuck?
All he remembered was slipping in and out of consciousness in an unfamiliar and extremely bizarre place, Neliel hovering over him crying, while Nnoitra stood protectively over them both.
He sat up, grimacing as his shoulder pulsed, then settled into a dull ache. He reached up with his left hand and realized that he was bandaged. Perhaps that was why the pain had eased drastically. His head turned, surveying the room he was in, and suddenly, the image of an orange-haired male leaped to the forefront of his mind. Who was that?
Grimmjow had only seen glimpses of bright orange hair, and warm, kind brown eyes, hidden by a fierce scowl. He chuckled. Interesting. He swung his legs over the side of the large bed and went to stand, but immediately fell face-forward, tripping over a very solid object on the floor.
"What the hell?" he grumbled, as he broke his fall on his uninjured side. His eyes widened when they landed on orange hair.
The once sleeping male, was rubbing his eyes as he sat up, and glared darkly at Grimmjow, before realization seemed to kick in, and his eyes widened. Grimmjow pulled himself into an indian-styled sitting position, and cocked his head to the side, as they considered one another.
The boy was handsome. Soft, brown eyes-still dulled from sleep-gazed back at him from a youthful face. He had full lips, a straight nose that was slightly upturned at the tip, and that bright orange hair. Grimmjow smiled, and noticed the boy's eyes widen further in shock.
"What's your name?" he asked. The boy cocked an eyebrow, and said something he didn't even remotely understand, making him stare back blankly. What?
The boy sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face, before trying again. Yeah, still a no-go. This time Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow and blinked. Surprisingly, the boy laughed an entirely too contagious laugh, making Grimmjow grin as well. He couldn't understand the boy, but, he was fucking adorable. His brown eyes lit up when he laughed and, upon closer inspection, Grimmjow noticed freckles spread across his nose and cheeks.
Maybe this world wasn't so bad.
Suddenly, Neliel launched herself at him from the open doorway, taking him to the floor, and jarring his wound.
"Brother!" she screeched, damn near making his ears bleed.
"Neliel, my arm, stupid!" he gasped, and shoved her away.
"Ah! I'm so sorry, Brother, I'm just so glad you're ok!"
Grimmjow noticed the tears clinging to her eyelashes, and sighed, before hugging her back. He had to remember that Neliel was still fairly young, and had lost almost everything she'd known, as well. He could understand her fear.
"'Bout fuckin' time!" Nnoitra said from the doorway. "I thought I was gonna have to drag yer ass outta here!"
Grimmjow lifted a brow, seeing right through Nnoitra's temper tantrum, and straight to the discomfort he tried to hide beneath it. Suddenly, a short blond male appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but a scanty pair of pink shorts. What the hell was this?
He also spoke the same way the orange-haired boy did, and Grimmjow assumed that to be the language of this new world. The blond and the red head-who was now standing-seemed to be arguing back and forth, if the twin scowls they wore were any indication.
His mind was on something else entirely. The red head was wearing a form-fitting white shirt, and a pair of gray...shorts? They were molded to his skin, and left very little to the imagination. Grimmjow licked his lips and grinned lecherously. He liked this manner of clothing very much.
The boy's body was slim but toned, and his skin was tanned and smooth-looking. He'd been staring so intently, he hadn't noticed the silence, until it was broken by a loud, snorting laugh.
Grimmjow located the source and found it to be the short blond. He was crowing, and grasping his stomach, gripping the wooden doorframe, and sinking to the floor. When Grimmjow glanced back at the red head, he noticed the beautiful face covered in a bright red blush.
Ah. He understood now. He had embarrassed him with his staring. Hunh.
Instead of being apologetic, he raised a brow and smirked at the red head, causing the blush to spread down to his neck, and up to his ears. This time he laughed and turned to Nnoitra, who was wearing a knowing grin.
"He's cute," he stated simply. Nnoitra tipped his head back, and cackled loudly.
"Just yer type, eh?"
"Mmhm," he hummed, his eyes openly roaming the red head's body.
"Well, he's the one that fixed yer arm." Grimmjow whipped his head around to fix Nnoitra with a level stare.
The boy had helped him?
He gazed at the orange-haired youth with a newly discovered respect. If the boy hadn't helped him, he probably would have lost his arm. His upbringing demanded that he owe the red head a debt.
Grimmjow slowly moved towards the boy, who took an uncertain step backwards. His face serious, he took a knee before the youth, and bowed his head.
"I owe you my well-being, and in return, am in your debt," he stated, knowing he wouldn't be understood, but still feeling the need to say it.
He raised his eyes to meet startled brown, and smiled. Maybe being in his debt wouldn't be so bad. He watched as the red head licked his lips nervously. Not bad at all.
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The Fairy Prince