Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach. Obviously.

XX

It's when she feels the blood on her face that she knows it's time.

The red acid, hot and thick, sprays ridiculously expensive dress she had to force herself into as the first bodyguard falls, a dark-skinned man only gasping in surprise before he hits the floor.

The rest of the girls scream in shock and fear, huddling into themselves, lined eyes darting around frantically. All except two freeze: one is thrown to the side by a brown-haired man in his rush to evacuate, squealing in pain as she lands on the floor awkwardly; the other immediately melts into the crowd but does not stray.

Jet black hair darts through the miscellaneous people, some dancing, some doing illicit activities, following after the two men who disappear ahead of her, through the double-doors that mark the fire exit. A split second after silver hair leaves her line of sight, alarms start blaring, music stops, and people start screaming and pushing, trying to find their way out of the supposed danger.

How ironic, that the real danger could kill them all before they'd even know they were dead.

With a sigh, Karin begins to slide through the mass of bodies pushing all around her, easily keeping balance in her four-inch heels, her eyes catching aquamarine ones. They meet at the door, not even needing words. Toushirou's eyes immediately comb her body for injuries. She feels her heart speed up as his eyes linger on her as she hikes up her skirt to grab her gun (honestly, there's nowhere else to put it); the dress she's wearing, a turquoise strapless form-fitting blush-inducing short little number coupled with black heels and an uncommon view of her neck is definitely out of character for her. Of course, the tux that her partner is wearing definitely brings out his eyes and isn't something he normally wears either. Damn, is all she can think for a second.

Finished with his brief analysis, he clenches his jaw, gun already in hand. They nod to each other, their signal for readiness, and he throws his shoulder against the door, giving her access to run in, gun held high. She immediately checks her left side while he swings around and watches her back. It takes them less than thirty seconds to deduce that the room is clear and as one, they move towards the on the far left side.

They move together room through room in a familiar fashion, working their way up from the first floor. They're on the seventh floor when Karin's feet start to ache, and suddenly, the room they were about to burst into explodes onto them.

Karin's vaguely aware of a loud noise coupled with a scream then pain. Analyze, she tells her tired, shocked brain, as she tries to center herself while leaning on a wall, gun still loosely in hand.

Room 666 was prepared for an ambush. Aizen and Ichimaru knew they were coming.

She's injured, probably something cranium-based. Cut, possibly: blood flowing into left—weaker side—eye. Numerous abrasions and cuts, probably from shrapnel. Fighting still possible, physically.

Dust is everywhere, impeding vision dramatically.

Causalities: none in sight, likelihood low that civilians would be near.

Toushirou is gone.

Swearing internally, Karin kicks her shoes off and, ignoring the glass cutting into her feet, raises her gun with shaky arms. Damn it, I can barely see—

Silver hair reflecting off of something. Toushirou!

The second she releases her shout, her heart clenches. Something's not right. The silver hair comes closer, until she realizes it's not messy enough to be her partner's and Ichimaru's face is definitely more snake-like than Toushirou's.

He's grinning like the sadist she knows him to be, infamous knife already out. Her vision fogs again as the scratch above her eye burns, blurring her vision. Panic sets in; she knows what kind of monster she is and she can't let her guard down for even an instant, but she really needs to wipe her eye, damn it damn it damn it—

She fires, training her one good eye on his chest, there's no use going for the head when she can barely see. He flashes to one side, then the other, swiftly pulling out yet another knife from his pocket. Belatedly, she sees the flash of silver vanishing from his hand and throws herself on the ground as the knife buries itself four inches into the wall behind her, gritting her teeth as class cuts through her dress and skin, already moving again, firing again and again and again, rolls upward, takes cover in the doorway but does not pause, fires twice more and is rewarded with a shout of pain from Ichimaru, a flower of red on his lower stomach on his otherwise flawless white suit. Grimly, she fires twice more: twice in the upper chest, she can't remember all the names for the places she hits in the middle of a fight, and he finally collapses.

Not yet daring to breathe, Karin walks swiftly over to the body in the middle of the hallway, gun still trained on him. She gingerly kicks away the one knife in his left hand and checks his puls—

There's a piece of glass sticking out of her leg.

When did that happen, her brain asks sluggishly. Thoughts run slower than the blood she can see creeping out from under the glass and she belatedly drags her shocked onyx eyes to meet slits of red ones. Ichimaru's grinning like a mischievous child as his fingers slowly trail down her leg. As soon as his eyes close, tiredness sinks into her, she knows it's the blood loss and the shock and she really should keep moving but the ground looks so inviting and she's just so weary and she'll just put her head down for one minute…

"Karin!"

Never did she ever think she would hear that amount of fear and terror in one voice; that's what gives her the strength to open her eyes once more. And maybe it's the dust or the shock or the blood loss or her just daydreaming, but Toushirou actually looks really worried for her. She grins a bit at the thought.

"What took you so long?" The words, meant to be teasing, fall flat as she realizes in a moment of fear how much effort it takes her to move her tongue and lips.

"Chasing Aizen. Didn't know Ichimaru was coming after you," is his brusque reply as his gentle fingers probe her wound, making her hiss in pain. "Sorry. But you took down Ichimaru, huh? Good for you," he grins absentmindedly, meeting her eyes as he moves his hands to her hips—her dress.

She still has the energy to raise an eyebrow. "You're ripping my dress. Didn't know you liked it kinky."

He flushes just a bit and she could swear he said, "I wish," but it was obviously her just as obviously exhausted brain wish—thinking that. Then, louder, he says, "I'm using your dress to make you a tourniquet, idiot.

"Oh. Damn. I was hoping to get some action before I die," she says cheekily, suddenly glad that she's losing so much blood so it can't go to her cheeks. His hands on her thighs are creating some sensations that she hadn't thought were possible under so much stress and it's not helping her already-fuzzy concentration.

Said hands pause and linger on her leg as he says roughly, "I won't let you die."

Her heart stops at both his words and the figure behind him, a tall man with brown hair and eyes more frightening than his silver-haired counterpart. "Toush—"

"Shh, save your strength," he murmurs, dusting glass and debris off of her body. She tries to tell him, but she's so tired and out of breath and it hurts to move at all.

"No, look—Toushirou, behind you!" she screams, all disregard for her battered lungs gone as she sees Aizen, the most successful drug lord in the Eastern Hemisphere, the man who had her mother killed and her family broken, the monster she and her partner were sent to assassinate, take careful aim with his small black gun. Finally sensing the urgency in her voice, Toushirou quickly turns even as he stands and draws his weapon, but before more than one shot can ring out there's a large piece of glass embedded in his chest and Karin's hand is delicately reached out, a small cut there from where she released it.

Aizen stares at the blood pooling on the floor and opens his mouth as if to say something but suddenly Karin's partner recovers from his brief surprise and with another flash and scream of sound, there's a hole in the corpse all in white on the floor.

Toushirou immediately returns to Karin's side and she once again succumbs to exhaustion, eyes fluttering closed. He begins swearing as her breath comes shorter and the sound of footsteps comes closer. "Damn it, Karin, stay with me. You can't die; Yuzu will kill me and she's scary and no, no, no, come on—" Somehow she finds herself in a standing position, her arm around his neck holding on for dear life and his arm crushing her hips against his own. He grabs his gun and she snags hers, biting back pain as her fingers burn in agony. They stumble into the room that previously exploded on them; it's a huge suite with a really nice view of Tokyo, he sets her down none-too-gently on the couch and almost falls on top of her as more shots follow them; improvising for cover, he tips the couch over and then he does land on top of her, heated breath tickling her bare neck and frantic eyes meeting startled ones. She opens her mouth to say something snarky, but she can't find the words and oh God her leg's on fire and now he's rolling off of her (damn. What?) and pulling out something from his jacket. Oh no, she thinks blurrily, it's one of Hat-and-Clogs' inventions. We're screwed.

He throws it towards the entreating members of the SWAT team and immediately dives back towards her, screaming something about ears but it's really hard to think when his knee is right between her leg and his face is so close to hers—grenade. Hands cover her ears faster than she would have thought was possible, and even as she squeezes her eyes shut there's an insanely loud sound and a flash of light and then silence.

Breathing heavily, she opens her eyes to find that Toushirou's weight has not yet left her body and he's still staring at her. He opens his mouth as if to say something but abruptly she's more tired than she's ever felt before and even her partner's insistent warnings can't drag her back from the depths of sleep. His voice is fading and he's just so far away and her vision is blurry through half-lidded eyes.

Then warmth. That's the first thing she registers, on her lips, mostly, but spreading through her body, reawakening feeling in her limbs, sending fire through her veins. Once again, her eyes flutter open and all she consciously recognizes is Toushirou's face is close to hers, his eyes are closed, and he's gently tilting her head upwards to meet his…

What. The. Fuck.

Hitsugaya Toushirou is kissing her. And damn, does he know how to kiss. While Karin herself may be too close to death to be kissing back, he's not letting that stop him. His lips gently move over hers, tongue probing her mouth, licking and flicking and moving and his hands have lowered her gently to the ground and he's definitely on top of her now and not just for protection; his hands lightly run up and down her chest, her waist, her hips, tracing shapes on her all-too-exposed skin. He runs his fingers through her hair while Karin finds the strength to lift her hands and twine them around his neck and whimper softly as he nudges her injured leg and whimper in a completely different way as he licks her bottom lip. And now they're both panting and still moving and his hand—

Ring.

They break apart gasping for air, Toushirou stumbling back with a stunned expression, quickly dropping her gaze as he pulls his phone out and presses it to his ear, practically stumbling away as he answers in a professional tone.

Karin remains on the ground, shuddering as she quickly replays what just happened. He kissed me. What—why—did I kiss him back? Well, who could blame me, the man knows what's he's doing. Chaotic thoughts, uncontrolled and confused, hold her attention until the sound of a phone snapping closed signals the return of her partner. He doesn't meet her eyes and her heart drops.

"Yoruichi will pick us up in ten minutes on the roof."

She nods and tries to take as much of her weight on her good leg as he helps her stand up and start walking over debris and bodies. Every step is filled with agony and awkwardness, but thanks to her Kurosaki genes, they walk maybe for a minute before she blurts out, "So what the hell was that about?"

Only someone as trained as he would be able to suppress his flinch and only someone as trained as her could still pick up on it. "I was trying to keep you awake. Spur-of-the-moment decision," he says in a determined tone as his gaze only flickers to hers.

"Bullshit," she snarls. "You could have just kissed me, not—um. You know."

They both look away shyly. Being in the business they are, neither gets enough action to really fulfill their hormones' wants. Whatever just happened felt good to them even if they're both too stubborn and prideful to admit it.

He smirks suddenly. "I guess I could have." He stops and turns to her, caging her in with his body and the wall. "But did you mind?"

Apparently, there's still enough blood in her body for her to blush violently. "I—well—it was—um—I'm still alive, so no," she says, wincing internally at her sputtering.

He leans closer, nuzzles her neck. "Is that all you liked about it? That you're still alive?"

Karin works on controlling her breathing. "I, um," she says intelligently. Then he does something with his tongue and her neck and she vaguely hears herself say, "Fuck it," before his lips crash down on hers again. She returns his kiss enthusiastically before a thought strikes her. "Yoruichi will be here soon…"

Rolling his eyes, Toushirou checks his watch and grins mischievously at her. "We have seven minutes."

Needless to say, they make the most of it.

XX

Shihoin Yoruichi is an astute, observant woman, but sometimes she gets ahead of herself. That's what she thinks is happening when she notices that her two favorite young agents are, first of all, four minutes late, and also a little too lightheaded for it to be just adrenalin: Karin's a little too happy to be losing that much blood and Toushirou's a little too smug to have not killed anyone. Not to mention the grins neither of them can completely smother.

She'll get her answer a week later when she and her husband will walk in on the two almost naked teenagers on her desk.

XX

Wow. So, I've never written anything like that before. Um. Did I do okay? Good? Bad? Steamy? Write more? Tell me to go to confession? Jump off a skyscraper?

Do let me know :)