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The Ties That Bind Us	By : KaiBlueOtaku Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Renji/Shuuhei Views: 3623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bleach and all its characters are owned by the talented Tite Kubo. I own only my story, and am merely borrowing them to tell it. I receive no payment for my writing.

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  DISCLAIMER: Bleach and all its characters are owned by the talented Tite Kubo. I own only my story, and am merely borrowing them to tell it. I receive no payment for my writing.
SUMMARY: Renji Abarai and Shuhei Hisagi are close friends. But is it possible there’s more than mere friendship there between them, simmering just beneath the surface? What will come ultimately of the changes happening between them, and what effects will it have on those around them? Canon setting, AU plot divergence.
                WARNINGS: A fair amount of coarse language, especially after Grimmjow makes his appearance in later chapters, because we all know what a mouth he has on him. This story is M/M Romance, and has mature, adult lemon content (though none in this chapter, except a brief mention in passing which includes some BDSM). Later chapters, there will be a threesome, so that will be M/M/M and I will also list this story with a Voyeurism warning, because there is a known spectator to that scene. Chapter 6 will have Het (M/F) lemon, so sorry for any hardcore M/M fans out there, if that puts you off. You have been warned.
                A/N: Back to the main story arc! Yay! That last chapter felt a little like a filler episode, sorry about that, but I needed to really cement their relationship, because the apple cart is going to get rocked soon.

                I gave Shuhei a base instead of a guitar, it will become clear later as to why. I think that’s all for now.
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                Renji and Shuhei were lazing around on a fine spring day, sitting on the front porch outside of Shuhei’s room. Renji was seated on the ground with his back against the wall, dozing in the warm breeze that blew the petals of the sakura across the porch. Shuhei’s head was rested in his lap, and he strummed lightly on his base guitar as he worked out a new song, leaning over to scribble down some notes now and again.

                He was disappointed that his recent article, “Please Teach Me! Shuhei Sensei!” that ran in the Seireitei Communication, had been so poorly received that he had discontinued the column within three issues. He thought it would have been fun to have a band, and was hoping to find a guitar player through the column, but nothing had ever come of it. Renji was pretty good on the drums, but a base player and a drummer didn’t amount to much of a band.

                A shadow fell across them, and both men glanced up to see the always-austere face of the Sixth Division Captain, Renji’s directly superior officer, Byakua Kuchiki. He stared down at them, his face soft but expressionless. Most of their friends, including the captains and their lieutenants, knew by now about their relationship, so the intimacy of their position was not much surprise to the captain. That was not to say that he approved of their indiscreet public displays of affection like this, but as long as they didn’t get too indecent with their closeness, he was tolerant of his lieutenant and his lover’s open familiarity with one another.

                “Oi, Taicho,” Renji said with surprise, feeling a little nervous, not sure if he should stand. He was technically on leisure time at the moment, so he wasn’t required to, but there was always something about his captain’s presence, and the fact that he was from one of the Noble Houses, that made Renji feel a little more formal than he did around the other captains.

                “Abarai, Central 46 wishes for us to send a team to check in on the resurrected Espada under Urahara’s watch, in Karakura Town. I have elected you, and Lieutenant Hisagi. They suggested sending a lower level Shinigami, but I pointed out to them that, in the event that something has gone amiss with the Espada, it should be someone battle-seasoned, and able to handle the situation until reinforcements can arrive. You will leave in the morning.”

                “Hai, Taicho,” Renji replied, and nodded as the captain turned and strolled away.

                Shuhei grinned up at the redhead. “Hey, that sounds fun! Do you have anywhere you want to stop while we’re there?”

                Renji shrugged. “Nah. Maybe just visit Kurosaki and the others… You know,” he said suggestively, reminding Shuhei that none of their friends in the World of the Living knew yet that the two of them were together.

                The dark-haired man smiled. “Inoue will be happy for us.”

                Renji chuckled. “Inoue is happy for everyone, about everything… That’s why she’s perfect for Ulquiorra.”

                Shuhei nodded in agreement. The Ex-Cuatra Espada, Ulquiorra Cifer, was one of the beings currently under close supervision from Seireitei, along with the Ex-Tres, Tia Hallibel, and the Ex-Sexta, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Ulquiorra was the first resurrected, accidentally, by Orihime Inoue’s unusual ability to ‘reject fate.’ After that, the exiled former captain of the Twelfth Division, Kisuke Urahara, had brought back Grimmjow, Hallibel, and finally Gin Ichimaru, who had previously been captain of the Third Division, with Kira as his Lieutenant.

                An investigation had been ordered, looking into the events at the Urahara Shoten, and what level of threat that the resurrected beings potentially posed to the greater good of Soul Society. It had ultimately been determined that the Ex-Espada, who seemed not to have carried forth any of their Reiatsu abilities into their Gigai, were of little threat, but would be monitored closely as they continued to live out a semblance of a normal life in the World of the Living.

                Gin, however, was brought back to Soul Society, and tried before Central 46. He was found guilty of treason, but pardoned by way of insanity, because of his eventual treason to even Aizen, proving his ultimate loyalty to only Rangiku Matsumoto. His sentence, because of his genius intellect, was to be stripped of his previous seat as captain, and remain in Soul Society, where he could be directly monitored at all times. He was currently working as a high-level assistant in the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, under the direct supervision of the current Twelfth Division captain, Mayuri Kurotsuchi. The two brilliant men often rubbed each other the wrong way, working in such close quarters, but even though Mayuri complained nearly constantly of the inconvenience of being stuck as Gin’s ‘babysitter,’ everyone could tell that they both benefitted hugely from the mutual intellectual stimulation.

                Some people argued that putting a genius like Gin in a place like the S.R.D.I. was dangerous, and no one argued the possibility that it could be. But it was the undeniable wisdom of the Eighth Division captain, Shunsui Kyoraku, which sealed Gin’s fate, when he pointed out that rotting in a place like the Maggot’s Nest was probably only going to prompt the brilliant man to boredom, which would surely be a recipe for disaster. It was decided that repayment of his debts to Soul Society would be better served by his cooperation and putting his sharp mind to work, instead of him languishing in a cell somewhere, with too much idle time on his hands to plot and scheme. Keeping his mind busy seemed the safest alternative, and on Gin’s part, he seemed happy to oblige, though no one really knew what the fox-faced fellow was ever thinking, unless it was perhaps Matsumoto.

                She was probably the happiest of all with his sentence, because it left him available to spend rather a lot time with her, whereas placement in the World of the Living with the Ex-Espada under the watch of Urahara would have been a hindrance to that. Shuhei smiled thinking of the two of them.

                Gin had come and made a personal apology to Shuhei upon his return to Soul Society, as he had to most of the captains and lieutenants who had felt most betrayed when he had defected with Aizen and Tozen to Hueco Mundo. Once everyone had heard his story, most had been able to look past his actions and realize that his betrayal was only a charade, in order to get close to Aizen, and know how best to exact his revenge for hurting Matsumoto in the past, when they had been only children. It was not the best of methods, but the intention was noble, and Shuhei had forgiven him to the best of his ability, although he knew that Gin Ichimaru was the sort of person that he would probably never be able to trust completely.

                The next morning, the two of them went together over to the Senkaimon gate, and passed through, coming out above the Urahara Shoten.

                “Byakua Taicho said that Urahara would have the addresses for the Espada,” Renji said as they landed lightly in the yard. He had a clipboard in his hand, with reports on it which would need to be filled out and returned to Central 46, so that they could make yet another of their ongoing decisions as to whether or not the resurrected Arrancar were a threat. Gin was required to appear before them personally for evaluation as he was located in Soul Society, but some of the ex-Espada were employed. In the pursuance of them maintaining their façade of normalcy with the greatest of ease, it had been determined that they would be interviewed in the World of the Living.

                Also, Renji knew, they had been placed in experimental gigai which were considered “sticky,” which is to say, they were not able to leave them without special assistance from the shop keeper. It was simply one of the added layers of protection that Central 46 had built into this highly experimental situation. Just because none of the ex-Espada had evinced any reiatsu-oriented abilities or powers yet, didn’t mean it couldn’t still happen. There was no precedent for this, so none of them, not even Urahara himself, was entirely sure what to expect as time went on.

                Renji and Shuhei made their way up the wooden steps and across the porch of the Shoten, and let themselves inside. “Oi, Urahara-san!” Shuhei called, glancing around the dusty shelves of the shop.

                Jinta came out of the back of the shop, his hand on his hip. He glared at Renji. “Hey, freeloader,” he taunted with a smirk. “What do you want?”

                Renji was abashed, and Shuhei stepped forward with a kind smile, leaning forward to bring himself down to the child’s level, hands braced against his knees. “Hey there, young man… Is the shop keeper in?”

                Jinta rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Don’t patronize me.” He turned and headed into the back of the store, leaving both of the lieutenants equally taken aback by the abrasive manner of the boy. “Well, are you coming or what?” Jinta snapped.

                The two Shinigami looked at one another. “He’s a real jerk,” Renji assured his lover quietly, who nodded in agreement as they followed into the depths of the shoten.

                “Oi, Urahara-san… You have more company,” the red-haired child barked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the two men coming behind him, then wandered past them back toward the front of the store, sticking his tongue out and chuckling as he went. Shuhei shook his head incredulously.

                “Oh, welcome, you two!” Kisuke lilted in a chipper tone, hiding behind his ever-present white fan. “Might I offer you some tea?”

                “Thank you, but we’re here on business,” Renji assured him, eyes falling to the first portion of the ‘more’ company Jinta had mentioned. Sitting beside the shop keeper were Orihime Inoue and Ulquiorra Cifer. “What luck, you’ve saved us some extra work today,” Renji said with a smile, nodding to Ulquiorra.

                Shuhei gently elbowed Renji, and sat down, accepting a cup of tea. “We’re not here entirely on business, Ren,” he said suggestively, and his boyfriend sat beside him. “We can spare time for a cup of tea and chat a few minutes.”

                “It’s good to see you guys, Renji, Shuhei,” Orihime said brightly. “What brings you here today?”

                “Well, Central 46 has some reports we have to file on the ex-Espada. We came to Urahara to get the addresses, but it seems you two have saved us one of the trips,” Renji said, graciously accepting a cup of tea for himself and sipping on it.

                “And, also…” Shuhei grinned coyly at Renji, who flushed a bit, and twined his fingers in Shuhei’s as the more slender man reached for them. “We wanted to let everybody know we’re together.”

                Orihime clasped her hands together in delight. “Oh, that’s great you two! I’m so happy for you!”

                Shuhei smirked at Renji, whispering, “I told you so.”

                Renji rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I never argued the point with you…”

                Ulquiorra had been watching all this with quiet disinterest until Renji turned to him directly, glancing over the clipboard which he held in his hand, and tapping at the attached papers with an ink pen. “Now, Ulquiorra…” He paused, unsure suddenly. “Can I call you Ulquiorra? Or is there something else you’d…”

                “Ulquiorra is fine,” the ex-Espada interrupted dryly with a sigh of exasperation. He’d been warned that there might be some regular monitoring from Central 46 to determine if there was any developing threat from them, but he was annoyed with the interference nevertheless. He was a private sort of person, and didn’t like the idea of someone taking notes on him, but he knew that Central 46 considered it to be necessary.

                Renji could sense the vexation in Ulquiorra’s tone, and he hastened through the list of questions. They were mostly generalized inquiries about physical and mental health, and any specialized abilities that had been noted. Renji was fairly sure he remembered taking an interview similar to this when he had originally entered the Shinigami Academy, and assumed that this was simply a slightly modified version of the standardized intake form.

                Ulquiorra’s replies were curt but straightforward, and it didn’t take long before they had concluded. The two Shinigami remained for a while at the Shoten, just visiting with Orihime and Urahara, whom they hadn’t had the opportunity to catch up with since the end of the Winter War. Ulquiorra seemed satisfied to drink tea in silence, and not be pestered further for answers to their survey questions.

                After nearly an hour had passed, Renji stretched. “It’s been nice you guys, but we’re still technically on duty. Urahara-san, can we get the addresses of the other two ex-Espada from you, so we can go check in on them?”

                “Address, singular,” Urahara corrected as he held up one finger, reaching for the clipboard and the pen, then scribbled down the directions on how to get to Hallibel and Grimmjow’s house. “Hallibel-san is probably still at work, but Grimmjow will be home. He helps out sometimes around the shop, but he’s fairly unemployable still. He’s not the most social of the bunch,” Kisuke chuckled wryly, passing the information back to Renji.

                Shuhei mused to himself that technically, none of the resurrected beings were particularly well-suited for social environments, but elected to keep that observation to himself, seeing as how one of them was sitting directly across the table from him.

                They made their polite farewells and took their leave, following the directions Kisuke had laid out for them, as well as a crudely scribbled map, on a blank sheet of paper. It wasn’t a very long walk, and they strolled along in the late spring sunshine, coming up to a modern subdivision with houses lined up all in neat little rows, and garages beside them. From somewhere nearby, they could hear the strains of somebody practicing an electric guitar. “Not half bad,” Shuhei commented absently, nodding in approval of the relative skill of the unseen musician.

                As they approached the address, Shuhei froze in his tracks, clutching at the sleeve of Renji’s shihakusho. Renji followed his wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare, and saw that the address in question was also the same location as the source of the music. The garage door was open to the pleasant weather, and kicked back on a futon couch, strumming an electric guitar, was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. His foot tapped a distortion pedal on the ground from time to time, changing the tone of the music winding its way through the cables of the equipment to broadcast out the small amplifier sitting nearby.

                “He plays guitar,” Shuhei said breathlessly, eyes glossing over, fingers tightening in Renji’s sleeve as elation crept into his voice. “He plays the guitar Renji, do you know what this means?”

                Renji nodded, and pulled Shuhei along. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but remember, Urahara-san said he’s pretty antisocial. Don’t get your hopes up too high.”

                As they crossed the street, the blue-haired man glanced up at them and jerked his head in acknowledgement, standing up to put the guitar in a stand and switching the amplifier off. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he waited for them to near. “Urahara called ahead and warned me you were coming,” Grimmjow said with a leer, extending his hand. “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, nice to meet you.”

                “Abarai Renji, Fukutaicho, Sixth Division,” Renji offered, shocked at the firmness of the man’s shake. Something about him seemed honest, Renji decided, even if he did come off as a bit arrogant and smug.

                “Hisagi Shuhei, Fukutaicho Division Nine,” the dark-haired man gushed, trying to hold back his elation and doing a terrible job of it. “I see you play the guitar…”

                “Huh?” Grimmjow was puzzled by the observation, but grinned and shrugged, glancing over at the instrument. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s not the most useful skill, but the music helps with my anger management, which I guess is ultimately the biggest problem I have.” He motioned to a ragged love seat sitting roughly at a right-angle to the futon couch, and invited the two to sit as he made himself comfortable again on the futon. “You guys want some water, or a beer or anything?”

                The two Shinigami eyed each other in shock. “Uh, no, thank you,” Renji said. “We’re on duty, we really shouldn’t be drinking. We had some questions we needed to go over with you, if you don’t mind…”

                Grimmjow frowned, and folded his arms behind his head, leaning back. “Yeah, Urahara said that. Go ahead, ask away I guess.” He shut his eyes and shifted around to get comfortable. Renji and Shuhei glanced at one another, put off by his overly-relaxed and unprofessional demeanor. Grimmjow cracked an eye at them. “Well? I just have to answer some questions, right? Some rule on that clipboard of yours that says I can’t be comfortable while I do that?”

                Renji started in on the list, making notes as they went along. Shuhei watched with interest. The Ex-Espada was abrasive, to put it mildly, but he was also talented. Maybe he could be easier to get along with in a less professional setting…

                As they were working on the list, Hallibel rode up on a bicycle, clearly done with her day’s work at the dojo, where she taught a number of martial arts classes. She stepped over the center of the frame and balanced standing with both legs on the same side and she rolled to a stop in the driveway, stepping off at last and narrowing her eyes at the two Shinigami seated in her garage. Grimmjow heard the slight squeal of her brakes as she pulled up, and sat up, smiling at her. “Oi, Tia… These guys are here to interview us. Urahara sent them.”

                She watched them warily as she wheeled her bike into the garage, hoisting it up over her head and hanging it on hooks mounted on the ceiling. Without a word, she stood, arms crossed, observing them in a way that made them feel very uneasy. Grimmjow reached for her wrist, yanking on it, trying to pull her toward the futon. “C’mon, babe, they don’t bite. You knew this was going to happen, Urahara told us.”

                She jerked her wrist out of his grasp, and set her jaw. “What does Soul Society want with us?”

                Renji was speechless, for once, and Shuhei fumbled to supply an explanation. “They just want to be sure you’re not a threat, ma’am,” he offered. “You were all recently enemies of the Gotei Thirteen, and Central 46 just wants to be sure you’re not dangerous, or have any unusual abilities developing or anything.”

                Grimmjow and Hallibel exchanged a meaningful look that made the two soul reapers wonder if there was some kind of secret there, or if she was just being antisocial and he was trying to placate her into cooperating. She pressed her lips tightly into a thin line, and went over to the futon, sitting between Grimmjow and the Shinigami. The blue-haired man reached into a small refrigerator at the end of the futon which seemed to double as either a bottle collection or an end table, and drew out two cold beers. He popped the cap on them both with his teeth and handed one to Hallibel. She took it and gave him a scathing glare. “I told you not to do that anymore, baka,” she hissed, and flicked him on the nose. “There’s a bottle opener around here somewhere, use it. You’re going to break a tooth or cut your damn lip again.”

                Grimmjow just smirked and took a long pull off his beer, staring defiantly at her as she pinned him under her green glare. “Maybe you’ll have to punish me later for it,” he taunted.

                Hallibel snickered at this, and her gaze turned fluidly from haughty to hungry in an instant. She hummed approvingly at him, giving him a once over, seeming to undress him with her eyes, making the soul reapers just a little uncomfortable at their openly feral sexuality. Hallibel reached out and stroked his cheek, then deftly popped him on the back of the head in warning, causing his beer to slosh. “Hey, that’s alcohol abuse!” Grimmjow protested loudly, shaking the wetness off his hand and attempting to brush it off his shirt.

                Hallibel pointed a stern and ominous finger at him in warning, then turned pleasantly to the Shinigami, taking a swallow of beer. “Alright, I’ll cooperate. Let me see the form.”

                Renji wasn’t expecting her to want to fill it out herself, but he was a little intimidated by the demanding hand that reached for the clipboard, so passed it to her. Hallibel took the pen and began to fill in the fields, ignoring everyone.

                Grimmjow carefully found room somehow for his beer among the empty bottles on top of the mini-fridge, and reached again for his guitar. Flicking the amp back on, be began to strum lightly; a beautiful but haunting melody that prickled Shuhei’s skin and made the hairs on the back of Renji’s neck stand on end. Hallibel began to smile, and hummed slightly along with it as she filled out the questionnaire. Suddenly, she looked up at Grimmjow. “They ask on here about employment, Grimm. What did you tell them?”

                He continued to stare at his guitar, playing the strange song. “I told them the truth, that I sometimes work at the Shoten for Urahara.”

                Hallibel snorted in distain. “That hardly counts. That’s maybe twice a month, for a couple of hours.” She tapped the pen on the form. “Ulquiorra works for him every day, for most of the day. Yours is practically considered volunteering.”

                The icy blue eyes of the former Sexta snapped up at this. “He pays me, Tia,” he growled in a measured tone. “It’s not volunteering.”

                “I’m just saying, when are you going to do something more regularly?” she insisted. “I pay the rent and buy the groceries. It would be nice to have a more equal contribution. Whatever happened to those guys you were going to play gigs with?”

                Grimmjow’s lips pressed into a thin line of irritation, and he set the guitar in the stand, flicking the amp back off. “Tia, you know how musicians are. Those guys are flaky as hell. Could we please not have this fight again, much less in front of company?” He snatched up his beer irritably, and stormed inside the house, slamming the door behind him, causing the empty bottles to tinkle against one another.

                Hallibel looked after him, her mouth screwed up in irritation as she shook her head. “I wish there was something I could do to help him,” she muttered to no one in particular.

                She turned back to the Shinigami, and saw Shuhei’s eyes sparkling. “Well, there just might be something we could do about that,” Shuhei said, barely able to contain the excitement in his tone as Hallibel cocked a curious eyebrow.

WWWWWWWWWW

                The arrangements were almost more complicated than it was worth.

                Shuhei had to convince Central 46 through a long back-and-forth process of written appeals and denials, that Grimmjow was basically unemployable in a traditional job due to his antisocial behavior, and that being in a band would be an invaluable part of his rehabilitation. Shuhei won at long last, based on the points that Grimmjow would finally be gainfully employed, which Central 46 agreed to be an important step toward normalization for the Ex-Espada, and also that during the employment of this particularly volatile Arrancar, two highly competent Shinigami lieutenants would be directly on hand to supervise him.

                Renji’s captain was obviously less than pleased about all the absences he was about to be excusing his lieutenant for, but Byakua Kuchiki was always a stickler for the letter of the law, so if Central 46 had approved it, he’d just grit his teeth and bear it, no matter how irregular this all was.

                “I do still expect you to keep up on your paperwork, Fukutaicho Abarai,” Byakua warned sternly.

                “Hai, Taicho,” Renji assured him, trying- and failing miserably- to hide his ecstatic grin. The lieutenant had always excelled at paperwork, and he knew it would be no challenge to catch up on the days he wasn’t taking off early to practice with Shuu and Grimm, and, eventually, to be playing bookings at local clubs in Karakura.

                Renji was excited; much more so than he’d expected, now that it was actually happening. The band idea had always been Shuu’s brainchild, but Renji had to admit, now that the wheels were greased and the whole thing was in motion, it sounded like a lot of fun.

                Of course, Shuhei was thrilled. And when Shuu was fired up about something, things got really nice for Renji in the bedroom. Renji smirked and gave a little shiver at the added bonus of it all. Usually he was the more naturally dominant of the two of them, although they did their fair share of switching things up. But with all the added nervous and charged tension coursing through Shuhei in anticipation of all the pieces of this band thing falling perfectly into place, it easily translated into a sexual stimulation that made him very nearly insatiable. Renji rubbed absently at a light bruise on his wrist, reminding himself that he shouldn’t fight so hard tonight against the restraints.

                Working with Grimmjow turned out to be not as bad as they’d worried. His pensive irritability seemed to be easily quelled by a commanding glare or a firm touch on the shoulder when Hallibel was near, which she made obvious effort to be. Renji and Shuhei found that by handing most of the creative control over to Grimmjow, and making this ‘his’ band, it immediately reduced the majority of the friction, and made Grimmjow much more pleasant to deal with.

                One evening during practice, Grimmjow ran inside to use the restroom, and Hallibel took the opportunity to speak to the Shinigami in confidence. “You know, I have to thank you two.” They looked up, shocked to hear her say something like that. Hallibel was always distant and aloof, mainly present during their practices as Grimmjow’s ‘handler,’ and this was a new level of intimacy from her. She looked out the open garage door into the gloaming of the early summer heat, averting her gaze as she dropped her guard momentarily to speak to them in a heartfelt manner. “He’s never been so happy before. He’s more focused overall, and he’s always excited about new songs he’s found to share with you guys, or following up on a lead for an engagement to play… He’s really engrossed with life, for the first time since we came back, and it has nothing to do with fighting. I never through I’d see anything but the pensive, brooding Grimmjow again.” She glanced at them, a sincerity in her mossy green eyes that was almost painful. “Thanks.”

                Renji was awkwardly embarrassed by her confession, but Shuhei smiled warmly. “I’m glad we could help you guys.”

                She looked down at the floor and nudged a bare toe against the tassels on the edge of the rug but looked up sharply as the door opened, and Grimmjow skipped down the steps lightly. “Did you wash your hands?” she demanded. He gave an exasperated sigh, and rolled his eyes. “You pig! That’s like rubbing your cock all over everything in the garage!”

                Grimmjow cackled maniacally at the mental image that produced, and turned around to run back inside. He glanced back over his shoulder and gave her a devilish smirk. “Hey, fuck you, Hallibel.”

                A deep warning growl thrummed in her chest, but she was grinning after him, even after he was out of sight. “We’ve got an interesting relationship, no doubt about that,” she assured the flabbergasted Soul Reapers. “But I love him dearly, and it does me good to see the spark come back into his eyes. He’s needed a creative outlet like this for a long while, and I can’t thank you enough for bringing him back to me in that respect.” Grimmjow returned and came up behind Hallibel, pressing his dripping wet, freezing cold hands against her bare neck. Her startled shriek became an indignant roar, and with a battle cry of, “You asshole!” she spun on him, tackling him to the concrete floor.

WWWWWWWWWW

                They kept practicing, playing any gig that Grimmjow could find them, from birthday parties to bars, and even a few open mic nights, just to get their name out there. After little deliberation, they settled on calling themselves “Desgarron,” meaning “Laceration” in Spanish, or “Panther King’s Claws” in Japanese, depending on your preference. It seemed to be some kind of inside joke between Grimmjow and Hallibel that Renji and Shuhei never quite got, but Grimmjow insisted the name sounded “badass and metal as fuck,” so everyone was satisfied with it.

                They got good. Really, really good. And popular. Hardly a weekend went by that they weren’t booked solid, sometimes for repeat engagements, and they were always approached after the show by someone new, wanting contact information. Hallibel gained a reputation as their unofficial manager, and began to handle their booking and the finer details of it all, because she was more inclined toward that side of things, leaving Grimmjow free to just have fun, be creative, and do what he did best; play music.

                He was phenomenal; no one could deny it, even Renji and Shuhei. His stage presence was commanding; raw, powerful, animalistic, and he seemed to feed off the energy of the crowd like a vampire sucking blood from a willing victim. The more riled up they became, the more he gave them in return, and their reputation began to precede them, their demand exploding. With all the money they made from the shows they played, Hallibel bought them a van to haul their equipment, because they’d begun to play gigs occasionally out of town, and transportation was becoming an issue.

                Renji and Shuhei began coming over after shows to celebrate, and sometimes spending the night on weekends when they were double or triple booked. They all became rather close-knit, like some highly dysfunctional yet very loving sort of family.

                Life was good. They were making tons of money, and living the dream… But unfortunately, real life has a way of intruding on our fantasies; somehow, it always seems like it’s just when we are flying at our highest, that disaster is lurking right around the bend…

WWWWWWWWWW

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, everyone… Don’t kill me too bad; Next update is the threesome, so I had to break here. See you soon!
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The Ties That Bind Us