Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

Venting...Please bear with me!

Oh yeah...everyone's gay in my world ;)



Oh, round here we ridin' slow

We keep it gudda, you should know

Gettin' crunk off in tha club

We gets low, oh

Ichigo nodded his head to the drugging sound of Ciara dumping from the speakers nestled in the trunk of his gun-metal gray, '91 Chevy Caprice Classic. The beast boasted a V8 engine, rested on twenty-four inch, gun metal gray and chrome rims and sported a creme-colored, butter-soft, leather interior.

He fucking loved his car.

Ichigo leaned against the hood and pulled a small pocketknife from the back pocket of his blue, plaid board shorts, flicked it open and proceeded to cut a thin line down the center of the peach-flavored Swisher Sweets cigarillo in his palm. Satisfied with the results, he snapped the knife closed and tucked it away before peeling the split halves apart and dumping the tobacco "guts" onto the pavement. Laying the "leaf" on the hood of his car, he reached into his other back pocket and retrieved a small jar of Kush and his wallet. He pulled out a single hundred dollar bill, returned his wallet to his pocket and began breaking up the sticky green on the bill.

"'Sup, Ichigo!"

Ichigo raised his head from what he was doing and smirked at the shorter, raven-haired female sauntering towards him, her arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a voluptuous brown-skinned, violet-haired woman with golden, feline eyes. The girl that had spoken was wearing a white wife-beater, light gray sweats and white, low-top Nike Air Force One sneakers. Her dark hair was braided into five, skinny cornrows on the right side, the left side left loose, spiky locks being ruffled by the slight evening breeze. The woman at her side wore a skin-tight, short, black, off-the-shoulder dress with black, thong sandals and her deep, violet hair was swept up into a high ponytail.

"Yo," Ichigo responded, going back to his task of rolling up.

"Jus' saw Renji a few minutes ago," the dark-haired girl, Tatsuki Arisawa, announced, her equally dark eyes twinkling with mischief. Ichigo grunted but made no move to inquire about Renji's whereabouts. "He was in his car gettin' his top blown," she continued, amusement in her voice.

This made Ichigo look up at her with interest. "By who?" he asked.

Tatsuki scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Who else?"

Ichigo grinned and lowered his eyes again, taking in the evenly broken Kush leaves and humming his approval. He set the bill down on the hood of his car and lifted the Swisher, taking a quick whiff of the fruity cigarillo paper before dumping the contents of the bill into it. He licked the outer edge of the brown casing and rolled the ends together, forming a perfect blunt. Ichigo fished around in his pocket for his pale blue lighter, found it and lit up, inhaling deeply and holding it in his lungs, his eyes sliding shut in bliss.

"Pass that!" Tatsuki suggested aggressively, coming to a stop beside him.

Ichigo scowled and exhaled the potent smoke through his nostrils, the excess floating past his parted lips. "Fuck you," he muttered. "I just lit it."

The powerful urge to cough hit him a few seconds after the last of the smoke left his lungs and he succumbed, hacking into his closed fist. Tatsuki laughed and brought her hand hard against his back several times, making him glare at her between each sharp burst. "Light-weight," she chortled.

Ichigo righted himself and went about catching his breath. Kush had a tendency to deflate his lungs with the first inhalation and no matter how much he tried to resist the call to expel his breathing organs, it never worked. The sound of his car door slamming rose above the music briefly, making Ichigo glance over his shoulder as he took another pull from the blunt. His grinning twin brother emerged from the passenger side of the vehicle, wide mouth stretched and showing off two serrated rows of pearly whites.

Shiro swaggered to the front of the car where Ichigo and Tatsuki stood eyeing him curiously. He was wearing an outfit identical to Ichigo's, to which Ichigo had protested vehemently, only to have his objections fall on deaf ears. Shiro matched Ichigo's plaid board shorts and short-sleeved polo top, except his color scheme was purple and black, whereas Ichigo's was blue and black. His equally lithe body sidled up to Ichigo, pale face flushed and inverted eyes shining with amusement.

Ichigo let his eyes travel over the sight of his "other half", snorting softly at what he saw. Added to the nearly identical outfit, Shiro was his spitting image, aside from his coloring. Shiro had been born an albino, lacking the bright orange hair and warm, honey-brown eyes that Ichigo had. His skin never tanned, his hair was an ash white and his eyes were a strange mixture of black sclera and yellow-gold irises.

"Fuck ya starin' at, King?" Shiro grunted, his snowy brows furrowing, huge smile faltering just a bit.

Ichigo grinned, matching his twin's wide smile. "You. Why? Gotta problem with that, Shiro?"

Shiro shrugged and glanced at Tatsuki before giving his reply. "Nah, jus' wonderin'. Wha's good, shorty?" he asked Tatsuki, giving her a wolfish grin.

Tatsuki's girlfriend giggled quietly into her hand, trying to hide her reaction, but Tatsuki noticed it and gave her a withering glare before turning the evil look on Shiro. "Don' make me fuck you up, Ghost," she snarled.

Ichigo chuckled, finding the everyday occurrence funny as he ping-ponged his gaze back and forth between his twin and friend. "Arguin' all the fuckin' time. When's it gonna stop?" he asked to himself, still chortling quietly.

Shiro snatched the blunt from his hand and took a deep pull, glaring at him in the process. Tatsuki just looked away, her narrow face still stormy and jaw clenched tight. Ichigo shot a look at his brother and grinned at the flush traveling up his neck and over his cheeks, indicating that he was about to have the same problem Ichigo had had only a minute ago. Shiro exhaled loudly, then puffed his cheeks exaggeratedly, obviously trying to keep the need to cough at bay.

Five. Four. Three. Two.


Right on cue, Shiro threw a closed fist to his mouth and spun his upper body away, coughing loudly and from his stomach. Ichigo felt his grin spread to his sideburns and crinkle the corners of his eyes as he guffawed at his brother, forgetting that he had been in the same predicament just shortly before.

Shiro turned back to Ichigo with a look that could have withered flowers. "King...fuck you, OK?" he coughed shortly.

Ichigo cleared his throat and wiped a stray tear from his right eye. "Don' underestimate the power of the Kush."

Shiro took another pull and passed it to Tatsuki, who immediately inhaled deeply, her eyes sliding shut and a grin forming in the corners of her full lips. Ichigo hated smoking with Tatsuki, only because she had the uncanny ability to smoke anything and never hack up a lung. Yoruichi had settled herself on the hood of Ichigo's car beside her girlfriend and was pulling a bottle of Cherry Lime flavored Smirnoff wine cooler from her huge purse.

"Yo, Shiro! Ichigo! Wha's really?" a deep voice called from across the parking lot.

Ichigo swiveled his head and was greeted with the sight of his high school friend, Renji Abarai. Renji sauntered over, his gait slow and purposeful. Renji was tall, muscular and extremely sexy. Ichigo had had a thing for him a while back, but nothing had ever come of it because Renji had an on-again-off-again sort of relationship with Ichigo's friend, Shuuhei Hisagi.

Speaking of Shuuhei, he was clinging to the tall red head, his dark, spiky hair standing up on his head and his coal-colored eyes twinkling merrily. He looked like he was already gone off something and Ichigo wondered what it could be. Shuuhei was wearing a form-fitting, black, short-sleeved t-shirt, black skinny jeans and black, low-top Converse sneakers. Renji, on the other hand, sported a form-fitting, short-sleeved, pale yellow tee, khaki cargo shorts and tan, low-top, laceless Vans. His hair was pulled back into a long, single braid, a white bandana tied around his head.


Ichigo held his hand out for the universal handshake between men, clasping Renji's fist shortly before leaning in to bump shoulders, then releasing it and doing the same with Shuuhei, afterward returning to his spot against the hood of his car. Shiro did the same, repeating the greeting process as he grinned widely. Ichigo always wondered why his brother was constantly smiling and smirking, but never had the energy to inquire about it.

"See ya got a nice mouth workout, Shuu," Tatsuki teased as she passed the half-smoked blunt back to Ichigo.

Ichigo cracked a lazy smirk at Shuuhei's expression; his dark eyes were cold as ice and glittering like polished marble. "Jealous?" he drawled, voice hardly hiding his anger.

Tatsuki threw her head back and exchanged glances with Yoruichi, who watched the altercation with an elegantly arched, violet brow as she nonchalantly sipped her drink. "You wish. Any-fuckin'-way...Renji! Ya still hostin' that trip next month?" Tatsuki replied, easily changing the subject and totally disregarding the agitated raven-haired man beside Renji.

Renji gave his notoriously goofy grin and stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets, rocking back on his heels as he did so. "Yeah. Ya still goin'?"

"Hell yeah! I'm takin' baby-girl here. Tryna have a good time."

Ichigo closed his eyes on the conversation, enjoying the feel of his limbs turning to pudding and his head becoming light and airy. His skin prickled, his heart rate increased and he was suddenly thirsty enough to finish off the drinks section of a supermarket. Breathing slowly through his nose, he grinned to himself, thoroughly delighting in his high.

Fuck even his toes were going slightly numb.

Ichigo dragged his eyes open, the lids still heavy as he focused on Renji, Tatsuki and Shuuhei. Frowning as he realized his brother had disappeared, he swiveled his head around slowly, not in a hurry to unbalance himself and searched the crowded parking lot for the albino.

The parking lot of the local department store was unofficially the "chill spot" for everyone in their town, usually packed to capacity after hours, when the cops wouldn't be around harassing everyone. Weed, alcohol and plenty of narcotics were usually in abundance and most of the people that frequented "The Lot" were popular, or trying to be popular. Either way, it ended up being a fashion show of epic proportions, from clothes and jewelry, down to cars and sound systems.

Right now, Ichigo was putting the rest of The Lot to shame with his custom Bose sound system, supported by state-of-the-art Alpine speakers and amplifiers in the opened trunk of his car. Licking his lips and sighing at the lack of moisture it produced, his eyes scanned the parking lot in search of his twin.

Where the fuck had Shiro disappeared to that quickly?

Finally, he spotted the familiar head of chalky white hair several cars down. He was walking briskly and seemed to be headed for the McDonald's next to the closed department store. "OIIII! Ya done?" Ichigo called to the turned back of his brother.

Shiro paused his step and whirled on his heel, grin a few miles wide. "Nah! Thirsty as shit, though! Want somethin'?"

Ichigo grinned and almost broke into a two-step at the offer. "Fuck yeah! Gimme a peach iced tea!"

Shiro didn't answer, just turned and continued his trek to the famous fast food restaurant. Shiro wasn't much of a smoker, but he could drink anyone under the table, Ichigo included. He and his brother were exact opposites; Ichigo liked to smoke, but he would sip something every now and then, whereas Shiro liked to drink and would only smoke here and there. They bickered and argued, but were extremely over-protective towards one another, usually causing idiots to get the wrong idea about them.

They watched too much TV, if you asked him.

"Earth to Ichigo!" Renji's deep voice interrupted his thoughts, making him turn a lazy glare in the tall red head's direction.


"Are ya goin' with us next month?"

Taking a moment to debate, Ichigo pursed his lips and turned his eyes skyward, absently appreciating the midnight blue, cloudless, and star-dotted blanket. Full moon tonight, he thought. "Yeah, I'll go. Is Shiro goin'?"

Renji rolled his russet-hued eyes and shrugged. "Prob'ly."

"Well, then ya know Ichigo's gonna show up. Ya never see one a'them without the other," Tatsuki said, sipping from a pint of Hennessy. Ichigo smirked, unwilling to deny the observation.

It was true after all.

Tatsuki handed the bottle of dark liquor to Yoruichi, running a hand through the loose hair on the left side of her head as a high voice suddenly penetrated the layers of music and rowdy talking. Everyone's heads turned in time to see two females walking towards them, both tall, both voluptuous and drop-dead gorgeous.

One was a blonde with arresting, clear green eyes, her bright gold hair done in a short, shaggy bob with two, long ponytails hanging down her back. She was wearing a pale green, stretchy cotton tank and light blue, denim frayed shorts. Cork-materialed, wedge-heeled sandals adorned her feet and smoky make-up made her sultry eyes stand out even more. Her companion had miles of swirling, sea-foam green hair and a cute, pink birthmark across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were big and wheat-gray and her outfit had to be illegal. She wore a sleeveless, cut-off pink top that bared her flat and toned mid-riff and a short, light blue denim mini-skirt. Her dainty feet sported pink thong sandals.

Two beautiful women that were probably more dangerous than most of the men he knew.

The blonde, Halibel, approached Tatsuki and performed an elaborate handshake, doing the same with Yoruichi and the green-haired woman, Nel, exchanged warm hugs. She was more cheerful and open than her girlfriend, but no less deadly, as he'd stated before. Nel turned her wide, almost innocent eyes to Ichigo and gave him a huge smile.

"Itsyugo!" she chirped, her voice childish.

Ichigo winced at the name, but grinned nonetheless. "'Sup, Nel. Yo, Hal."

Halibel nodded in his direction, obviously not in the mood to speak. Then again, Halibel rarely talked, so her silence was normal.

"We just came from the movies," Nel continued, flinging a curtain of silky-looking, green hair over her shoulder. "Itsyugo, where's-"

"Oh-ho! The booby twins!" Shiro shouted from beside Ichigo, scaring the shit out of him and making him jump hard enough to drop the blunt Tatsuki had just passed back to him. "How the hell are ya?"

"Ah! Shiro, I was just asking Itsyugo about you!" Nel said animatedly.

"Heh," was Shiro's reply.

By now, the blunt was the size of his pinky nail and Ichigo didn't like working so hard just to smoke, so he left it where it was on the ground, knowing some religious weed-smokers would consider the action heresy in its highest form. Ichigo threw an annoyed glare at his brother, but immediately brightened at the sight of two large McDonald's cups in a brown, cardboard holder.

If there had been any moisture left in his mouth, he would have been drooling.

Shiro glanced at him with a smirk the size of Canada and waved the cups past his face, taunting him. "Thirsty, King?"

Ichigo growled and was just about to lunge, when Tatsuki threw him off, squealing loudly, something she would never do in a sober state of mind. "Oh my god! This is my fuckin' song!" she screeched, sharp face flushed a pink tint.

Ichigo scowled and focused on the song, his brows relaxing at the bass-heavy melody thumping through the speakers of his car.

He actually liked it.

I can do it like a brother

Do it like a dude

Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

Do it like a brother

Do it like a dude

Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you

We can do it like da man dem, man dem (hey)

We can do it like da man dem

Sugar, sugar, sugar

We can do it like da man dem, man dem (hey)

We can do it like da man dem

Sugar, sugar, sugar

Tatsuki clambered onto the hood of Ichigo's car and turned to face her small audience, stepping side to side and belting the lyrics. "I can do it like a brother! Do it like a dude! Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you!" she sang, demonstrating the song and grabbing her crotch while raising her free hand into the air, fingers forming the universal rocker sign.

She stuck her pierced tongue out and wiggled it at Yoruichi, who hopped off the car and started rooting through her purse for something. Ichigo was amused and momentarily distracted from his must-have-fluids mission, but at the same time, he wanted to yell at Tatsuki and tell her to get the fuck off his baby before he caused some smoke in the city. Shiro stood with his arms crossed after placing the drinks on the hood of the car beside Ichigo, which Ichigo took full advantage of by stealing the cup that held the darker liquid. The remaining cup was filled with something clear and Ichigo assumed that it was Sprite, so he grabbed a straw, stuck it into his cup and drank deeply, his entire body sagging with satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Tatsuki was still dancing on the hood of his car, Yoruichi tossing singles at her feet and husky laughter rising above the music. Halibel stood with a stony face, while Nel wore a wide, childish grin, full lips parted and owlish eyes crinkled in the corners. Ichigo only just realized that Renji and Shuuhei had disappeared; he wondered if they were getting each other off again somewhere.

After drinking half his cup of peach iced tea in one go, Ichigo chewed on the end of the straw and snorted at Tatsuki's rendition of Jessie J's video. She couldn't dance to save her life, but she had the look down pat, that was for sure.

Shiro nudged his shoulder, chewing on a fry. "Yer not gonna make 'er get down?" he asked, colorless brow lifted skeptically.

Ichigo grinned and shrugged, mind on the heavenly food smell floating from his brother's bag. "She's havin' fun, so fuck it." His eyes honed in on the red and white bag. "Oi, ya didn't say you were getting' food," he muttered, disgruntled.

Shiro rolled his unique eyes. "I gotcha some fries and a Filet-o-fish, King. I ain't a asshole, ya know."

Ichigo wanted to kiss his brother, but refrained merely because he didn't want even more rumors to be spread about him and his twin. Instead, he snatched the bag, a grateful grin stretching his lips as he withdrew the red container of fries. He inhaled the scent and nearly came in his pants.


Food was like diamonds and pearls when you were high.

The bass from the song shook the ground as he devoured fry after fry, until the sound of louder music muffled it, which in itself was indeed a hell of a feat. Ichigo scowled and lifted his head, wondering who the hell had the audacity to have a system louder than his own. A royal blue, 2009 Acura Rsx rolled into view, parking directly across from them, halogen headlights giving off an eerie blue glow.

Ichigo gaped, his mouth falling open and a fry tumbling to the ground.

The car was fucking beautiful.

It was kitted out and probably no more than ten inches from the ground. The grill was custom and black, it had a rear spoiler, twenty-two inch, chrome and royal blue rims, dark tinted windows, the automatic sunroof was back and a neon blue light illuminated the ground beneath the car. When the masterpiece of an automobile rolled to a stop, there was a short pause before the doors opened vertically, gliding into the air with grace and finesse. Bass made the pavement rumble like an earthquake and the music was so loud, the lyrics to the addictive song were crystal clear, echoing over the packed parking lot, making all heads turn towards the car.

We hit the club, grippin' on the ole heat

Purple in the air, middle finger to the police (fuck 'em)

Then get a dub, I'm skipping up the whole street

Tires lookin' like ya n***a sitting on some slow leaks (twenty-sixes)

Ichigo knew he was gawking, but he couldn't help it. He had an intense love affair with cars and this specimen was orgasm-inducing. Not only that, but when the owner of the vehicle and his companion stepped out, he nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He wasn't used to seeing (only in passing, mind you) this man driving anything other than the huge, black, Cadillac Escalade he owned.

The rumored death truck.

The rumor went, if you saw that truck, then you or someone you knew was going to die.


The man and his friend were notorious. They were known gang members, had rap sheets thicker than the Bible, were always armed and extremely dangerous...and fucking sexy as pin-up poster models.

The two converged to the front of the blue car and casually leaned against the hood, taking in their surroundings with the air of predators. Ichigo found himself nodding to the song dwarfing the music coming from his own car.

Hun, I'm getting' bread, don't confuse it wit' a crumb

But if I gots to reach up in this Louie then ya done

Them Rugers'll get swung, you'll drop in a ditch

The cops'll have to tape up the block like it's ripped

I'm so smooth but move the drop 'til it skid

Pockets fulla cheese like a mozzarella stick

Ichigo heard a small choking sound coming from beside him and turned to see his twin standing frozen with his mouth open and eyes glued to the driver's blond companion.

Ichigo wasn't at all surprised. He knew Shiro had an unhealthy crush on the blond gangster, so it was nothing new to see him nearly swooning in place and it was also completely understandable. The blond was pretty sexy. He was tall, maybe six feet, thin as a reed, but lithely muscular at the same time and had a mile-wide, devious, piano-key toothed grin. His pale blond hair was worn in its usual, short bob, the bangs severe and cut straight across his brow and his golden-brown eyes were slanted and mischievous. He was wearing a barely form-fitting, plain, white, short-sleeved, v-neck tee, dark-blue jeans, navy-blue Chucks and a navy-blue bandana around his neck, reminding Ichigo of the old cops and robbers game he and Shiro used to play when they were kids. His neck and arms were tattoo-sleeved and thick, leather bands cuffed both his wrists. He was wearing his signature grin and handing his friend a wrapped Swisher.

Ichigo shuddered when his eyes moved over to the other man and driver of the amazing vehicle. Warmth pooled in his gut and his mouth, now newly moisturized, began watering and making him swallow convulsively.


He'd never seen a man more gorgeous and dangerous in his life.

He was tall – even taller than his friend. Riotous, bright blue hair was tucked under a navy-blue and white NY Yankee fitted cap, but did nothing to hide long, unruly sideburns, the brim of the cap tilted up, revealing sharp blue eyebrows and intense ultramarine eyes. A straight nose led to a set of enticing, full lips and a pointed chin. The face was angular, the neck was strong and tanned, sloping towards a pair of broad shoulders and a fantastically muscular chest. He was wearing a form-fitting, short-sleeved, navy blue, white and gray, horizontally-striped Henley shirt, dark blue jeans that hung low on his slim hips, showing off the waistband of a pair of white boxers and on his feet were navy blue, low-top Chucks. His arms and neck were also tattoo-sleeved, but he wore a navy blue bandana wrapped around his left wrist and a black G-Shock watch on his right.


Ichigo, already light-headed from his high, felt himself getting even dizzier with excitement and arousal as he watched the man accept the Swisher from his blond friend and pull a small Zip-lock bag full of marijuana from his front pocket. He had never seen the man this close-up before and it had his heart racing and his hands twitching.

The man went on to roll up a ridiculously fat blunt before lighting it and inhaling deeply. Ichigo watched his movements like it was his favorite show, tracking everything the man did. He wasn't really surprised to see that the man didn't cough after taking his first pull of the potent Purple – Ichigo knew what it was by the strong smell that wafted towards him almost immediately after it had been lit and knew that it was some impressive shit.

Shiro lay his head on Ichigo's shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Fuckin' sexy bastard," he muttered wistfully and Ichigo chuckled, raising a hand to pet his twin's soft, white hair.

"Hear, hear," he said quietly, eyes back on the tall, blue-haired man leaning against the hood of that miraculous machine called a car.


Grimmjow grinned as he leaned back against the hood of his new car, proud of the job that his best friend had done customizing it. The once plain, white Acura had been transformed into a sexy, royal blue road monster, fully equipped with everything Grimmjow adored in a vehicle.

Shinji had showed his ass making this baby over.

Speaking of Shinji, Grimmjow glanced over at his blond best friend and smirked. The skinny man was in his own little world, grinning maniacally to himself and toying with a clear, plastic cup filled with an amber alcohol called Remy Martin. Shinji was pretty much a lush, whereas Grimmjow was more of a smoker. He didn't mind drinking, but it didn't sit too well with him in the long run – not unless he smoked first. Grimacing, he remembered his first time drinking with Shinji ten years ago. They had been fifteen years old at the time and had paid some random guy to go into the liquor store to buy them alcohol. Young and wild and new to their Crip gang family, rules and shit didn't apply to them. They had been tatted up by the age of seventeen, their chests, arms, necks and backs covered with dark ink.

But back to being fifteen.

Shinji had been itching to get drunk for his birthday, so after paying a guy for their alcohol, they had retreated to their home at the time, blue, plastic bag filled with their prize. They had claimed an abandoned house and used the boarded up residence to their advantage until they'd turned sixteen and had been able to rent an apartment together. Money hadn't been an issue since joining their gang family, which had come as an intense relief to the both of them, being orphaned in his case and abandoned in Shinji's.

The two had met at the age of ten in a foster home and had been inseparable since then. Anyone that tried to split them up was usually on the receiving end of an extreme case of bad luck. They had only managed to survive the one foster home together before their guardians couldn't take it anymore and sent Grimmjow to the orphanage he had come from. Shinji had refused to leave his side, even at such a young age and had eventually been sent to the same place, grinning up a storm.

They stayed in the orphanage until they reached fifteen and Grimmjow had been introduced to Starrk, the leader of the Crip faction in their town. After that, Grimmjow had joined the gang and Shinji – not one to be left behind – had followed him into being jumped into their new family. They had left the orphanage shortly after and the rest was history.

Shinji had gained a reputation for being a show-off, but extremely efficient in everything and anything he did, whether it was fighting, hustling, or even partying. He put both feet into it all. Grimmjow, on the other hand, had earned the description of "quiet storm" for his usually silent demeanor, but destructive anger. He only really spoke when he felt it necessary, didn't mince words and whenever he got pissed, he fucked up everything in his path. This had reaped him the privilege of becoming the gang's executioner, or in other words, the gang's hit man.

Whenever someone needed to be dealt with, it was his job to dispense discipline, punishment and even in some cases death. Shinji was his best friend, left-hand man...all that. They were mostly always seen together and did everything together, so it only made sense for the blond to accompany Grimmjow on his missions.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Back to the story.

The abandoned house had been meticulously furnished with everything a teenager could want and need and it was made even better by the shitty outward appearance camouflaging the elaborate interior. Nnoitra – another member of their family – had a connect in the public service department, allowing them to have electricity and running water. They had settled down in the living room on a black, soft leather couch and immediately tucked into the fifth of Remy Martin, a smooth cognac that had made Grimmjow's belly feel like a simmering pot of homemade tomato sauce. The buzz he'd acquired from the drink was nice, but he'd wanted to feel more, so unwisely, he'd rolled up and started smoking a blunt of Purple.

Three pulls in and his stomach had been climbing up his esophagus, thrashing about wildly. Shinji had stared at him, slanted brown eyes half-lidded and amused. All Grimmjow recalled after that was an acute dizziness and stomach lurching before he'd been hugging the toilet like a lover and hurling up everything he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Shinji had followed him, snapping pictures with his stupid cell phone, but Grimmjow had been too out of it to do much to stop the idiot.

The next morning he had awakened, head resting on the rim of the toilet and pounding like a bass drum. His mouth had felt like he'd been eating sand all night and his stomach had been having its own adamant uproar. Shinji had been sitting Indian-styled on the sink, wearing a white tee and black boxers, giving him a cordial smirk.

"Ya good, son?"

"Fuck you, Shinji..."

"Great, 'cuz I gotta shit an' yer in mah way."

Grimmjow grinned in remembrance.

Those days had been fun.

"Yo, ya sharin' er steamin' that one?" Shinji suddenly asked, borderline baritone breaking through his thoughts.

Grimmjow gave his attention to the shorter man and smirked. "Don' know yet. Why, ya wanna smoke now? Thought ya were a drinker?" he taunted, absently noticing that Shinji had finished off his cup.

Shinji's eyes flashed devilishly before he reached over and plucked the blunt from Grimmjow's fingers, sticking it between his lips and inhaling deeply. Grimmjow arched a brow skeptically, waiting for disaster to strike. Shinji was showing off as usual, but sometimes it tended to backfire and since the blond wasn't much of a smoker to begin with, his recklessness didn't bode well. Grimmjow leaned back on his elbows, prepared to thoroughly enjoy the show.

Shinji grinned, but his neck completely gave him away. It was red and the crimson stain was rapidly spreading up and over his face. A vein throbbed and twitched in his neck and Grimmjow gave him his best shit-eating grin.

He wouldn't last long.

Sure enough, not even three seconds later, Shinji was barking like a seal and bent at the waist, his slanted eyes watering. Grimmjow tipped his head back and let loose a deep, booming laugh.

Shinji was fucking retarded.

"How the fuck can ya smoke this shit without dyin', Grimm?" Shinji whined incredulously.

Grimmjow shrugged and accepted the blunt Shinji was passing back to him. "It's a gift," he grunted.

"Tch. Fuck that. I c'n still drink yer ass under the table any day, so don' get cocky, pussy!"

"Awwww," Grimmjow crooned before sucking down another lungful.

Shinji cracked his knuckles before lumbering off to the passenger side of the car. He rooted around for a second before reappearing at Grimmjow's side with a fifth of Remy. Grimmjow shook his head, his spine shuddering at the sight of the intimidating liquor resting harmlessly in a frosted, dark-green bottle.

Shinji eyed him and gave him his signature grin. "Wan' some?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Fuck you."

A cackle was Shinji's response as he cracked open the bottle and poured himself more of the dubious alcohol.

"Ohhh, finally out to play?" a familiar, deep voice suddenly inquired from their left.

Both heads swiveled towards the voice, huge grins replacing the slight frowns that had briefly appeared. Shinji was the first to reply as he stepped away from the car and welcomed their family leader. The tall, gray-eyed brunet had his arm around the shoulders of a slightly shorter, white-haired man with dark eyebrows. The man's hair was long, flowing down past his ass and he was wearing a short-sleeved, black polo, blue, acid-washed jeans and black flip-flops.

The head of their family wore a form-fitting, short-sleeved, dark-gray tee, black board shorts and low-top, gray Chucks. A navy blue bandana hung from his left, back pocket and his wavy, brown hair was swept back from his forehead. He was smiling and so was his partner.

"Yo, Starrk," Grimmjow greeted, going through the complicated greeting handshake that was now second-nature to him.

"What brings you two out here?" Starrk inquired, thunder cloud gray eyes glimmering with amusement.

Shinji shrugged and exchanged glances with Grimmjow. "Soldiers need ta have fun, too," he said smoothly.

Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. Takin' a night off is cool here an' there," he added.

Starrk chuckled, his voice rumbling like a truck engine. "True. I don't have to tell you to watch your backs out here, do I?"

"Fuck no," Grimmjow scoffed, turning to Shinji for confirmation, only to see the man staring avidly across the lot.

Grimmjow followed his friend's gaze and a wide smirk gradually creased the bottom half of his face. Shinji was already looking to get into trouble, if the expression written all over his face was any indication. The skinny blond's slanted eyes were narrowed even more and focused on a pale young man across the lot, leaning against a gun-metal gray Caprice Classic that was sitting on matching twenty-twos or twenty-fours.

Grimmjow whistled under his breath at the sight of the old school car that had been hooked up and obviously treated like gold. The man Shinji was hawking was standing next to a group of girls and another young man that...oddly, looked exactly like the pale one, just with a bit more color. This guy's hair was a bright, candy-corn orange and his skin was a pretty tan hue. The more Grimmjow let his eyes roam over him, the more he grew to appreciate his looks. The guy was sexy, wearing a short-sleeved, black polo top that hugged his slim, but apparently sculpted torso, blue, plaid board shorts and black, low-top Chucks.


Grimmjow let his gaze scour the long, toned legs, the slim hips and the equally long and toned arms of the orange-haired man. The palms of his hands started itching and he knew – without a shadow of a doubt – that he would be introducing himself to the man. Grimmjow watched as the guy gave a lazy smirk to his pale copy and a shudder ripped down his back.

"Heh, I'll let you guys go, then. Don't get into too much trouble, eh?" Starrk said, deep voice interrupting Grimmjow's thoughts.

Grimmjow turned to him and nodded, repeating the greeting shake, absently nudging Shinji's arm and bringing him back to Earth to do the same. Once Starrk had taken off in the opposite direction, Grimmjow looked at his best friend, who was looking at him, eyes alive with misconduct. "Ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Shinji asked

Grimmjow smirked and nodded, turning back to the stunning orange-haired man. When he didn't see him or the pale one that looked like him, his eyes widened and scanned the parking lot almost frantically. He had never seen someone as fucking intriguing as the orange-haired male and he was damned sure going to get to know him better. As he swung his head to the left, he spotted a head of white hair and pouted, disappointed that it wasn't orange. At least the white-haired one would lead him to the one he really wanted.

Shinji tapped his arm, making him turn to face him with an inquiring glance. "We can wait. I got some more drinkin' ta do," he said.

Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, eventually agreeing. He just hoped the orange-haired man turned up before he and Shinji were ready to leave; he wasn't going anywhere without the red head beside him.

Shit, he hoped the guy liked men.


Ichigo sat in the driver's side of his car, watching the two gangsters interact with one another, a secretive smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He was enjoying the view as his limbs tingled and his mind hummed absently. He was high as a cloud and Shiro had gone on another food excursion, so Ichigo had made it his business to hunker down in his car while he waited and watch the beautiful blue-haired man play with his friend.

The two men were leaned against the front of that wet dream of a car, the blond throwing back cup after cup of some type of alcohol, while the blunet smoked enough to put any normal person in a coma. Ichigo grinned as he watched the blond toss back yet another cupful and turn with a crooked smirk to the blue-haired man beside him. He wished he could hear their voices, hear what they were saying. A few minutes ago, Ichigo could have sworn he'd heard the blue-haired man laugh and the sound had sent invisible ants skittering up and down his back.

No man's voice should sound that fucking sinful.

It was deep with a rough edge and Ichigo had wanted to walk over and listen to it all night. He was already dangerously close to being horny for no reason other than the vast amounts of THC running through his system and the more he watched the blue-haired thug across the lot, the more his heart raced, the more he wanted to approach the very dangerous man and get to know him...more intimately.

Suddenly, the track switched in the blue-haired man's car and Ichigo couldn't keep himself from fidgeting. He loved the song, especially the beat and as soon as it knocked from the monumental speakers, he found himself nodding along, his eyes heavy-lidded and body sluggish.

I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded

Blunt in my mouth and these haters I'm scopin'

I'm just twistin' my body from side to side

(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side

I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded

Fitted pulled down and these haters I'm scopin'

I'm just twistin' my body from side to side

(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side

Ichigo felt himself getting entirely too comfortable and warm, so he opened his car door and slowly stepped out, stretching his limbs and yawning loudly. He was ready to eat and get some sleep. He rotated his shoulders and looked around the still crowded lot for his twin, scowling some when he didn't see him. Shiro was taking his sweet time getting their food and Ichigo was getting restless and irritated, never mind hungry as a desert slave. The girls had left about a half an hour ago, leaving him and Shiro on their own, which Ichigo didn't mind at all.

He loved his friends, but they could be a pain in the ass if taken in large doses.

Ichigo turned his attention back to the two men across the lot and froze in place when glowing blue eyes met his. His already dry throat went even more parched and his eyes widened incredulously as he stared helplessly at the blue-haired man keeping him rooted to the pavement with his gaze alone.

What the hell?

Why was this guy looking at him like that?

Had he done something wrong? Made him mad?

God, he hoped not.

Ichigo finally lowered his gaze, afraid that the other man was upset. He didn't know what to do, but his heart had gone into double time, battering against his ribs ruthlessly. He certainly didn't want to get on the bad side of the blue-haired man.

He loved his life, thank you very fucking much.

Fortunately, Shiro decided to use that time to saunter up, arms full of bags. Ichigo's mouth instantly began watering, the smell of french fries driving him nearly mad with hunger. "Took you long enough," he grunted, reaching for a bag.

Shiro grinned. "I was only gone ten minutes, King."

"Ten minutes too long."

Shiro cackled and relinquished one of the bags, setting down the other and digging through it anxiously. Ichigo rooted through his bag for the heavenly smelling fries and stuck around five in his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the salty goodness. A small sigh from Shiro had Ichigo glancing up, wondering what was wrong with him now. Shiro had his eyes locked across the lot as he hungrily bit into a quarter-pounder with cheese. Those golden irises were shining with all kinds of lust and longing and Ichigo could definitely relate, except...now he was afraid to look over at the two gorgeous men.

After locking eyes with the blue-haired Adonis, he was more than a little intimidated and eager to hang on to his life just a while longer. Shiro swallowed the humongous bite he'd been working in his mouth and turned to him, a totally out of character, soft smile gracing his pale lips. "King, I think I'm in love," he mumbled.

Ichigo blinked. "BWAHAHAHAHA!" he shrieked, bending at the waist and clutching his stomach with one hand, his container of fries with the other. "You fuckin' idiot!" he said, still laughing hysterically.

Shiro frowned and turned back to the two almost directly across from them. "Fuck you. I'm serious."

Ichigo wiped at the tears that had begun gathering in the corners of his eyes and straightened his back. "I know! That's why it's so fuckin' funny!"

Shiro opened his mouth to respond, but his voice died in his throat as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "God," he breathed quietly, his mouth hanging slack.

Ichigo scowled, then turned to see what the hell had his twin so captivated and the fry he had moving towards his mouth fell to the ground. He had only ever seen this dance on TV in music videos and such and had always thought it was hot, but seeing it up close and personal made it smolder and emanate heat waves. The blond that Shiro had a crush on was in the middle of holding up a half-filled cup as he moved his feet rhythmically back, forth and around. After a few more seconds of that, he gracefully placed the clear, plastic cup on the hood of his friend's car and started throwing up signs with his hands as he continued dancing, the music complimenting the moves perfectly.

I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded

Blunt in my mouth and these haters I'm scopin'

I'm just twistin' my body from side to side

(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side

I'm in the club posted up (up), got my arms folded

Fitted pulled down and these haters I'm scopin'

I'm just twistin' my body from side to side

(I'm just) Twistin' my body from side to side

The blue-haired man stood off to the side wearing a wide smirk, canines gleaming under the fluorescent light coming from the lot's lamp posts. The blond was grinning, his wide, piano-key toothed grin stretching across his features as his thin body moved fluidly, almost bonelessly like a rodent. Then, he bent at the waist and dusted the tops of his navy blue Converse sneakers before coming back up and continuing the dance.

Ichigo was riveted as he stared shamelessly. He'd never seen someone Crip-walking in person. The dance was so fascinating, he couldn't find it in him to tear his gaze away, until his brother shifted in his peripheral. He glanced over at Shiro and smiled. His brother was licking his lips and eyeing the blond hungrily, like a stalking lion.

It was quite entertaining.

"Ya gonna say somethin', or just sit there starin'?" Ichigo asked, taunting him.

A miniscule frown appeared between those snowy brows before Shiro shrugged nonchalantly. "I could say the same ta you, King. Think I don' see how ya look at Blondie's blue-haired buddy over there?"

Ichigo snorted and forgetting the incident earlier, gave his attention to the man in question.


Said man was again staring at him like Ichigo was his favorite dessert and the entree had just been cleared from the table. Chills racked his body, closely followed by a surge of warmth. The food he'd been eating stuck in his throat and seemed to grow as he was hooked by that intense gaze again.

The man was going to be the death of him if they kept this up.

The noise of a paper bag crinkling made Ichigo finally turn to his twin, eyes still wide and astonished. Shiro's golden stare met him head-on and the look in his brother's eyes was one of determination and a steeled resolve. "I'm gonna do it," he said softly.

"Do what?" Ichigo asked, confused.

Shiro didn't respond, but then again, he didn't have to. His next action made Ichigo's breath choke to a stop in his throat, constricted his chest and flattened his lungs.

What the fuck was his brother doing?

Shiro set his bag on the hood of Ichigo's car and straightened his shirt before slowly ambling over to the two men across the lot. Ichigo couldn't take his eyes off the scene, afraid, on one hand, that his brother was walking to his death, but excited on the other, anxious to see what would happen.

As Shiro crossed the space separating them from the sexy gang members, the blond paused his dancing and golden brown eyes locked onto the white-haired man. Ichigo couldn't even fathom being in Shiro's position at the moment. He would have turned to stone, paralyzed with fear and unable to approach. Shiro was doing a hell of a lot better than Ichigo expected, so he watched as his brother made his way up to the blond, standing beside the man as if he didn't have a care in the world. Shiro's mouth moved, indicating he'd said something and the blond grinned saucily in return.


Ichigo really wished he could hear what they were saying, but he wasn't too keen on just dancing his way over uninvited. His brother was displaying balls of titanium at the moment and Ichigo would be the first to admit that his balls only consisted of soft, slightly wrinkled skin and apricot-hued hair. Shiro and the blond were about the same height, give or take a few inches, the blond seeming just a tad bit taller. The blond stepped closer to Ichigo's brother and the grin he wore stretched wider as he too said something.

Ichigo had been so focused on Shiro and the blond that he didn't notice when the blue-haired man disappeared, but he did notice when a deep, gravelly voice spoke almost directly into his ear. "I was hopin' ya'd come over, too. Guess yer shy."

His face immediately flushed and the hairs all over his body jumped to attention as if a drill sergeant had just entered a room full of soldiers. Ichigo slowly turned to face that titillating voice, his heart stopping when he realized that the man was a scant few inches from his face. Electric blue eyes were half-lidded and lazy, but nonetheless arresting, full lips were turned up into a devilish smirk and the navy blue fitted cap he wore was tilted to the side, revealing bright blue bangs and eyebrows.

Ichigo shuddered, opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He was absolutely speechless. The man's smirk widened as he leaned even closer, his warm breath fanning over Ichigo's cheeks and lighting a fire in his groin. He smelled like Purple and some type of cologne. "Wha's yer name?" the man asked and Ichigo just knew he drifted away like a satin ribbon in the wind. Head light and body incredibly numb to all but the fierce desire sweeping through his bloodstream, Ichigo nodded stupidly. The blue-haired man arched a brow and quirked his lips as if he were trying to suppress a chuckle. "Tha's yer name?"

Ichigo crashed to Earth and frowned in confusion. "Huh?" he mumbled.

The man rested his arm on the hood of Ichigo's car, encircling his waist lightly, his touch barely there. "Yer name. Got one? Or should I call ya 'Yes'?"

Ichigo pursed his lips, disgusted with himself. He couldn't believe he was making such an ass of himself in front of this outrageously sexy man. "Ichigo," he answered confidently after clearing his throat.

The man nodded and nosed his shoulder gently, making Ichigo's insides shiver and tremble. What the hell was he doing? "S'nice."

"You, uh, you got a name?"

The man grinned and lifted his head, those piercing blue eyes cold, but searing at the same time. "Yeah."

Ichigo scowled and gave him a blank stare, aware that the man was being evasive. "Well?" he snapped, impatience making him irritable and also making him forget who he was talking to.

Those eyes flashed and narrowed, but a smirk continued to curve those enticing lips. "Grimmjow," he said quietly.

Ichigo rolled the name around on his tongue and decided he liked it. Choosing to return the favor, he said, "S'nice."

Grimmjow gave a soft chortle as he raised himself to his full, completely overwhelming height. He had to be 6'2", 6'3" and from what Ichigo could discern underneath that short-sleeved Henley, nothing but solid muscle. "Yer funny. Cute, too."

Ichigo swallowed forcefully as he raised his head to lock eyes with the blue-haired gang member. Grimmjow was staring down at him in quiet contemplation, his eyes so impressively blue, Ichigo thought he would drown. He wondered what Grimmjow was thinking about.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

"OI! Shinji!" Grimmjow shouted over his shoulder, his eyes on the blond still talking with Shiro.

"What?" came an annoyed tenor.

"Don' 'what' me," Grimmjow snapped at the shorter man, brows furrowing. "Ya still wanna go ta the hotel?"

The blond named Shinji ambled over, his slanted eyes moving over Ichigo quickly before finding his friend's gaze. "Ya asked 'im yet?"

Grimmjow grinned. "Don' gotta. Let's go; this scene is old now."

"I was waitin' on you."

"Whatever." During the tennis match of a conversation, Ichigo had begun edging his way over to Shiro in order to find out what had transpired between him and Shinji, but before he could even make it, Grimmjow had an iron grip on his wrist, his eyes still on Shinji. "I'm comin'," he grumbled. Bright blue locked with wary, henna. "Yer comin' wit' us, yeah?"

Ichigo arched a brow and tried to tug his wrist free. Not happening. "Come with you where?"

"Ta somewhere more private."

Grimmjow wasn't being very forth-coming and it was beginning to irritate Ichigo. "Where the hell is that? I heard you tell your friend somethin' 'bout a hotel. What hotel?"

Grimmjow smirked and yanked Ichigo to his very firm, very solid, very warm chest. Ichigo stumbled as he lost his balance and in the process ended up with both palms pressed flat against the man's torso. Eyes going moon pie wide, he absently let his fingers trace the ridges of Grimmjow's pectorals, dipping between them to explore the deep valley. His mind had gone blank and Grimmjow's smell accompanied with his pure masculinity had him thinking the dirtiest things. His mouth went dry again and he tried licking his lips, only managing to make them crack from lack of moisture.

A large hand came up and gripped his fingers together just as they began sliding down towards a chiseled abdomen. Grimmjow dipped his head and put his mouth right at Ichigo's ear, making him shudder and sway in place with want. "Yer playin' wit' fire in a tub a'gasoline, Ichigo."

God, his name coming from this man was like chocolate covered strawberries and a glass of champagne. In other words, exquisite.

Ichigo didn't even try to hide his pathetic reaction. He looked into those endless, ocean blue eyes and fucking purred. "I like fire."

Grimmjow's eyes darkened and narrowed. "Oh yeah?" he growled. "Follow us ta the hotel, then and I'll show ya fire."

Ichigo nodded dumbly, no longer concerned with...shit, anything. He would follow Grimmjow through the very gates of hell if the man just kept talking to him.

"I'll take this," Shiro said cheerfully as he gripped Ichigo's elbow and steered him to the car. "We'll be right behind ya."

Grimmjow blinked and nodded before stalking over to his own car, gait sexy and promising things Ichigo definitely had a mind to thoroughly explore. Shiro shoved him into the passenger seat, making sure he was comfortable before rounding the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. Ichigo received a cursory glance from the corner of his twin's inverted eye. "King, ya do realize we're pretty much goin' ta get laid, right?"

Ichigo gave a full-on, toothy grin as he swiveled his head in his brother's direction. "Yup," he said.

Shiro cackled and cranked the engine, Mike Jones, Slim Thug and Paul Wall blaring "Still Tippin'" from the speakers, the bass shaking Ichigo's teeth and making his nuts vibrate. He leaned back into the butter-soft leather of his car and closed his eyes, satisfied to see Shiro peeling out behind the floating Acura.

He was going to get laid indeed.

Hello, everyone! I know you're waiting for me to update my other stories and I certainly plan to do so, but I need to get this out of my head first. I just had the strongest urge to write something about the lifestyle I grew up around and...well...here you have part one of a two-chaptered story. I've been going through some personal things, which is why I've taken a little break, but I do plan to continue updating my other stories very soon! Thanks for being so patient with me!

Hope this interests you somewhat in the meantime! Til next time, then! :D

Also, you can Youtube Crip-walking to see what it looks like.

Aaaannnd, the song list for this chapter:


Do It Like A Dude-Jessie J

Get Em-JR Writer

Side to Side-Three Six Mafia

Still Tippin-Mike Jones, Slim Thug, Paul Wall