Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13753815.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Bleach
  Relationship:
      Grimmjow_Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki_Ichigo
  Character:
      Grimmjow_Jaegerjaques, Kurosaki_Ichigo, Abarai_Renji, Urahara_Kisuke,
      Madarame_Ikkaku, Kurosaki_Isshin, Kurosaki_Yuzu, Kurosaki_Karin
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Universe, Drama, Angst, Humor, Weekly_Uodates
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-21 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 12/34 Words: 28332
****** Losing the War ******
by adVENTitiious
Summary
     Grimmjow is sent to Karakura town under strict instruction from Las
     Noches to sway one Ichigo Kurosaki to their side, by whatever means
     necessary. The Espada has his own plans, but they quickly begin to
     fall apart when his gigai doesn't work as expected. Story will start
     at tv episode 120 and then veer off on its own...
***** Chapter 1 *****
                                 - Prologue -
He was dying. Ichigo Kurosaki's jaw clenched at the depressing thought. Maybe
this was better though. He was losing it. Today's battle only confirmed it as
he lay on the ground, his zanpakuto resting uselessly a few feet out of reach
as he glared into unfathomably deep blue eyes. No, they weren't deep, he
corrected himself sharply as he breathed raggedly, the Espada's hits well
placed as he felt warm liquid running down his sides, making his clothes stick
to him, clinging to his flesh as if it could hold his spirit in place.
If only it weren't doing the exact opposite.
The head above him cocked to the side curiously as his gaze remained trained on
him solely with those eyes. They were piercing, like everything else about him,
cutting into him and opening him up so that he was looking at himself in a way
he'd rather never do. He was exposed. Weak. Helpless as the soul-eating man
gazed down at him as if he were a dessert and he was skipping dinner because he
looked that good.
"Does it hurt?" The blue-haired man asked almost curiously. "Dying?"
He clenched his eyes shut.
"Fuck you, Jaegerjaquez," he gasped out as the man leaned down slowly, shifting
his weight effortlessly to the balls of his feet as he struggled to just
breathe, his hand reaching out. The same hand that Ichigo had seen run straight
through Rukia's chest as if it were the tip of a blade dipping through soft
butter. He snarled as the man slowly smiled, his hand hovering just over his
jerking chest.
"Don't tempt me," he said in a low voice, his mania from just moments before
still there but more honed as if he was focusing all his attention and power to
savor the moment when he, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, would finish Ichigo Kurosaki —
and have his soul.
Ichigo heard a harsh laugh escape his own lips. As if there had ever been any
question who would win. The number six of the Espada had been toying with him,
egging him on, trying to tease the power he had been struggling to control out
of him. As if his only goal were to watch him implode, destroying himself and
everyone else in the process. He was fucking with him, because he knew he
wasn't a real threat.
He, Ichigo, fucking substitute Soul Reaper, he had never had a chance in
defeating the man before him, because he was too strong and Ichigo couldn't let
himself reach that level without losing himself in the process. He had tried,
he had tried so hard and the darkness swimming in his outer vision - blocking
out the damned moon and its shape that did nothing but to remind him of the
blue-haired man leaning over him - was a testament to his weakness. Grimmjow
was stronger because he didn't care if he lost himself. He had nothing to lose.
He glared up into the face of the man who would kill him, waiting for the hand
to deliver its deathly blow. "Just do it already dammit," he said, his
breathing growing more even as his end became more inevitable, a peace settling
over him. At least he had succeeded in only taking himself down. He hadn't lost
his mind, he had won in a small way.
Losing the war to win the battle? an inner voice asked, spitting the words in
disgust as yellow pupils grew, a sneer forming on white lips. You disgust me.
You should have let me take over, I could have won. I can still win. Just give
up, he said, approaching Ichigo slowly.
No! Go away! Go away! he shouted back at the monster in his mind who made him
hate himself more than any enemy he had ever fought.
"Who are you talking to in there?" The whispered words jerked brown eyes back
into focus. Blue eyes narrowed. "Is it him? Can you see him now, Kurosaki?" he
asked in a dangerously smooth tone as his eyes grew more excited. "He likes me,
you know? I can tell," he practically purred, his hand making contact with bare
skin.
Ichigo gasped as heat flooded his body, making him feel like he was burning
alive. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the splayed fingers to sink into his
skin and end his existence. He watched as sharp teeth slowly descended and then
words carried on a whisper, caressing his ear and then seeping into his brain,
grabbing hold with sharp barbs, infecting him, "I'll tell you a little secret
though. I prefer you, Kurosaki Ichigo."
Brown eyes shot open. When had he closed them? He shook his head, trying to
shake the sentiment from his brain. It wasn't real. "You think my spirit will
taste that good?" he asked, his words as sharp as the broken sword by his side.
A soft laugh filled the air and blue eyes pulled back to meet his once more.
"Oh, I know it will," he said, his words swimming in a lust that Ichigo had
never heard before.
Fingers began to slide, and a choked breath forced its way from his lips. "What
are you waiting for then? Do it," he said brusquely, not sure why he was trying
to push his soon to be killer's hand. Maybe he had already given up. A dry
laugh tore itself from his lips. He was pathetic. Fingers stilled over his
struggling heart.
"No, don't think I will."
Brown eyes narrowed. What was he trying to do? Was he messing with his head?
Trying to get him to beg? Or maybe he didn't think he was worth killing. Too
beneath him. He lifted his arm, the appendage tingling and starting to feel
numb and far too heavy and grabbed hold of the hand on his chest.
"Do it."
He might have lost, but he deserved a warrior's death. He knew he did. He
gritted his teeth at the wide smile hovering above him. "Fucking do it
already!"
"No."
The word was said simply, like the blue-haired maniac was refusing to let
Ichigo cheat off of him in math or as if he had asked the fucker for a ride
home. "Do you want to know why I won't?" he asked, leaning closer, his eyes
wide open even as he held himself only inches from his prey.
Ichigo felt himself shaking his head. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to
know just at that moment as his breath grew more ragged, his weak pulse
speeding up, rushing the inevitable - a death blown by his own weakness. There
would be no final hit, his body would just slowly wear itself out.
Fiery lips brushed cooling skin. "Because, I'm not finished with you, I'm not
going to do it until you're mine."
Ichigo opened his mouth to respond when the lips that had been tracing his
cheek captured his lips. He grunted in surprise, his hand tightening around the
man's wrist as fingers ran down his side, sliding carefully around his wounds
and trailing along sticky skin. He struggled to push him off when a tongue
entered his mouth and his eyes fell shut, his body and mind feeling like it had
caught on fire. He heard his hollow scream out in rage before disappearing from
his mind completely, feeling blissfully alone for the first time in what seemed
an eternity.
Curled lips pulled back, leaving inches between their lips. "I knew you'd taste
good," he said with a knowing smirk as he looked down at dilated pupils and a
flushed face that had only moments ago been as pale as his clothes before
spilling Ichigo's blood all over them.
Ichigo stared up at the man in shock and then used the last of his strength to
jerk him back down, his tongue invading his mouth angrily. He couldn't just
kiss him. He fumed as his tongue pushed forcefully into the mouth filled with
sharp-teeth, a gasp being swallowed when unforgiving fingers slid along the
final blow the Espada had laid on him, trailing the lines of the deep cut with
a caressing touch. He groaned as his body bombarded him with too many feelings
that made no sense: agonizing bliss, whisper-soft pain, and a furious need to
live; to feel.
He felt suddenly lighter and his heavy eyes opened to see the blue-haired man
standing, his chest heaving, his fingers and chest painted in blood that wasn't
his own as he leered down at him.
"I'll be back for you, Ichigo," he said simply and then brown eyes fell shut,
no longer able to hold themselves open, the whisper of a yell dying on his lips
still unformed.
Grimmjow.
***** Chapter 2 *****
“Can you hear me, Kurosaki-kun?"
Brown eyes opened with a groan to find Orihime Inoue, Ichigo's childhood
friend, leaning over him, a warmth spreading in his chest that was becoming far
too familiar. He was being healed.
He closed his eyes tightly as unpleasant memories bombarded him. That was
right, he had lost. Badly. And then to top things off he had kissed the
arrancar he was supposed to be fighting. A ragged laugh escaped humorlessly
from cracked lips.
"Shhh, try not to move too much," the red-head said as she focused on healing
his many wounds.
"Sorry," Ichigo croaked. What had he been thinking earlier? At the time he had
just been furious that the Espada had taken such liberties with him. But now…
now he was just certain he was insane—kissing a hollow? There had to be
something very wrong with that. Hadn't there?
He looked around at the solemn group as his friend continued to work on his
wounds, her work lit only by the moon hanging heavily above them as he laid on
the roof of some building. They were all there: Sado, Rukia, Renji, Ikkaku,
Toshiro and Rangiku. They had all survived their battles. Although he had
technically only survived because the blue-haired demon named Grimmjow
Jaegerjaquez had seen fit to spare his life.
He closed his eyes, partially from relief but mostly from the turbulent
emotions roaring more angrily in his chest the stronger he grew. He could still
remember when Renji had found him, the seasoned Soul Reaper had told him that
it was only a loss if he was dead. He wondered what the fiery red-head would
have said if he had told him the whole truth; that he was pretty sure the
Espada had only left him alive because he wanted to mess around with him first,
and all of the blood loss had been a restricting factor at the time.
He laughed again. No one had told him that hollows had libidos.
"Ichigo?"
"Yeah Rukia?' he asked as he looked up at the raven-haired Soul Reaper leaned
over him, her gaze trained on him.
"You should rest," she said quietly.
He nodded slowly and closed his eyes, trying to focus on relaxing the muscles
that Orihime was working intently on knitting back together.
===============================================================================
 
Blue hair, bluer eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. Sharp teeth that were
somehow making his heart skip to a funny beat inside his chest as if it were
afraid they would rip it to shreds but a little more scared that they might
not.
"How much do you want me, Kurosaki Ichigo?" The words murmured in a deep voice
that rumbled the hard floor beneath him. "I want to hear you say it."
A needy groan escaped parted lips and short breaths punctuated the otherwise
silent room. "So fucking much." Hands slid up over smooth skin that conformed
to sinuous muscles that lay underneath and stopped to grab hold of baby blue
locks, pulling back with a sharp tug to accentuate a solid jawline even further
as neck muscles flexed beautifully.
"Fuck, I like it rough. We're going to have so much fun together."
===============================================================================
 
Ichigo shot up in his bed. He gasped for air, his skin covered in a cold sweat
as blood pumped furiously through his veins to his entire body, particularly
between his legs. He groaned and let his face drop into the palms of his hands,
trying to scrub the dream from his mind. No not a dream. A nightmare. He pushed
down his blankets and pulled off his shirt, feeling way too hot in his usually
cool room.
"Shit." He dropped back down, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried
to will his racing pulse to slow and his body to calm down. It wasn't real, it
was just a dream, he insisted to his misfiring brain that was sending all the
wrong signals to his confused body. He took in a calming breath and closed his
eyes. Just a dream.
===============================================================================
 
Ichigo trudged down the busy hallways of his school, his hands stuffed into his
pockets and his bag hanging over his shoulder carelessly, the usual spring in
his step gone. Not that it had been an overly springy walk to begin with, but
it was the principle of it. It was definitely flatter. He rubbed a hand over
his face, trying to scrub away the seemingly permanent fog clouding his
thoughts. He just needed to get a good night's rest; then maybe he'd feel some
better.
Sleep, he scoffed mentally at the dwindling pastime. It was nothing but a
distant memory since he and his friends had faced off with the arrancars for
the first time. At least any sleep that wasn't filled with disturbing images
and feelings. Feelings that were just not right.
He adjusted his collar uncomfortably and forced a smile at a pretty girl in his
class who had lifted a hand in greeting. He lowered his head, averting his gaze
quickly after the silent interaction, picking up his step when she slowed down.
He really wasn't in the mood to politely fend off unwanted attention.
"Ichigo!" Keigo Asano shouted as he ran at a mad sprint towards him, stopping
just short of attacking him as he usually would, or at least trying to attack
him. He squinted his eyes, studying his friend carefully. "Are you sick?"
The orange-haired boy shook his head and continued to walk towards their first
class of the day. "No, just tired. Long weekend," he said to the boy who he had
been friends with ever since he had started school.
"Weekend? Ichigo, you were gone most of the week too, it's Friday!" the dark-
haired boy shouted by his side, an incredulous edge to his words. "What
happened? I called your house, but your dad just said you were probably at
Sado's, but I checked and you weren't!"
"Please don't yell, Keigo, I’ve got a headache." Ichigo closed his eyes slowly,
a soft groan escaping his lips. Friday? Had he really been home that long? Why
hadn't anyone said anything to him? Even Rukia who was usually quick to shout
at him and tell him exactly what was on her mind had been somewhat different
with him lately, hanging back and shooting him odd looks when she thought he
wasn't looking. What was going on?
"Sorry, listen," his friend started in a more appropriate level. "We're going
out tonight. You and me. You've been way too busy with those new students, and
Sado is coming too. He agreed this morning on the way to school. So…. you're in
right? Tell me you're in."
The orange-haired boy looked over at his friend, opening his mouth to turn him
down when he noticed a hopeful look gracing his features. He really hadn't been
around much with everything, and maybe he could use some time away from the
Soul Reapers. Maybe then he could forget about the blue-haired Espada who had
seemingly left Hueco Mundo to live in his nightmares instead. No wonder he had
let him live, he was planning on driving him insane first. Torture then death.
It actually made a lot of sense now that he thought about it. He would
definitely peg the arrancar as one for the dramatic going off their short
interaction-
"Ichigo?"
"Huh?" he looked over, Keigo's call having pulled him from his morbid musings.
He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, stopping in front of their first
class of the day and glancing in to see Rukia and the others already in there
and looking at him expectantly. He pulled him back away from the doorway,
nodding reluctantly. "All right. Just us."
"Great!" the dark-haired boy shouted, slinging an arm around his shoulder,
seemingly forgetting about his headache. "We're going to this new dance club.
It'll be so much fun!"
Ichigo grimaced, rubbing at his temples as he walked in the room with his
friend talking loudly in his ear.
===============================================================================
 
"Wow, look at this place!" Keigo shouted over the thumping beat, his words not
matching his mouth as the lights flashed at a dizzying pace. He held a red-
colored drink in his hand that he was clearly not old enough to be drinking.
"Isn't it something?"
Ichigo ran a hand up into his wild hair and nodded in somewhat of a daze. He
had definitely been with the Soul Reapers too much, he felt completely out of
sync with the crowd's vibe, most of the patrons around his age or a little
older as they moved exuberantly to the music looking as if they didn't have a
care in the world. Well, other than getting into the pants of whomever they
were grinding up against, he amended. He shook his head. It was only a little
after nine and all he wanted to do was go home and lie down. "Where's Chad?"
"He couldn't make it after all," his friend said, taking a drink and looking
indifferent to their friend's absence. "Come on," he said, waving his glass in
the air around excitedly. "You gotta admit, this is something!" he said again
but with more enthusiasm as if he were trying to infuse some of it into his
lackluster friend.
"It's definitely something," Ichigo muttered to himself as he scanned the
unfamiliar room. The club had high ceilings, the windows all blacked out and
walls painted black with neon splashes of color that glew fluorescent under the
flashing black lights. There was a DJ's booth in the far back corner, the man
inside of it working away diligently, bobbing his head to the beat as the crowd
outside cheered him on, and most of the space was a dance floor except for the
small area where they were standing by a bar. He frowned as he began to notice
a trend, his gaze shifting sharply from one couple to the next. Not all, but a
lot of the couples were both guys. He looked over at his friend in
bewilderment. "Keigo, this is a-"
"No it's not!" the boy shouted back, cutting him off and shaking his head with
a vengeance. "It's just a special thing they're doing this weekend." He smiled
widely. "I thought this might be more your speed," he said, wiggling his
eyebrows suggestively as orange eyebrows shot up under an equally orange
fringe.
Ichigo opened his mouth to either deny his friend's insinuation or let loose a
line of expletives—he hadn't quite decided yet—when a tap on his shoulder
stopped him. He frowned and turned around sharply. "Listen here, I'm not-"
He was stopped short for the third time that night, this time though the
interruption was due to a pair of unfathomably deep blue eyes that were set
four inches higher than his own chocolate brown ones. He blinked, the vision
before him the same when his eyes reopened. It couldn't be, he must be seeing
things. There was absolutely no fucking way.
"Not what? A good dancer?" the tall, icy blue-haired man asked in a silky
smooth voice as he shocked Ichigo with a wide grin, his words taunting and eyes
dancing with unrestrained excitement. He licked his lips, his gaze running up
and down the stunned boy's body before taking a step closer and saying in a
lower voice, "That's okay, I can teach you."
Ichigo stood frozen, shock holding him firmly in place with its paralyzing grip
as he stared up at the assumed Espada, his mind racing. He looked just like
him. It had to be him. His mind unhelpfully supplied some flashes from his most
recent dream that starred the grinning blue-haired man for the sake of
comparison. Brown eyes narrowed accusingly, and he spat out, "You."
Lips curled back to reveal perfectly straight white teeth that were not
inappropriately sharp, excepting a set of impressive canines.
"Me," the man countered simply, shoving his hands into grey pants pockets and
pushing up onto his toes before rocking back onto his heels, somehow managing
to look more polished by the casual action.
Grey pants? Ichigo blinked. His eyes scanned the man's attire with a new
awareness, seeing his outfit for the first time. The bastard was wearing
regular human clothes; black sneakers, charcoal colored slacks and of all
things—a fitted blue shirt that was a couple shades darker than his eyes and
several more than his hair. "What are you doing in those clothes?" he demanded
sharply. "And how the hell have you been getting into my dreams?"
A boisterous laugh filled the air. "My, you're quite the aggressive flirter,
aren't you?" His smile darkened, blue eyebrows arching in a devilish curve. "I
like it." He reached out a hand in offering, palm up. "Would you like to
dance?"
"No, I don't want to fucking dance!" Ichigo shouted, growing more upset by the
second as he struggled to decide if he should just leap out of his body in the
crowded area. Someone might call an ambulance if he just dropped in the middle
of the club, and he and Keigo weren't technically supposed to be in there, and
as of now the hollow wasn't attempting to attack any of the people around
them—He growled in frustration as he tried to figure out the best course of
action. He didn't want to make things worse. He took a step closer, his voice a
growl as he spoke, "What the hell is your angle? You think you can just walk up
to me and ask—"
"Ichigo!"
The orange-haired teen turned to his friend standing beside him with a look of
surprise etched on his features, having forgotten he could hear him. He must
think he was crazy talking to apparently no one.
His friend shot him a look of bemused disapproval. "Just go fucking dance with
the guy. What's wrong with you?"
Ichigo glanced back over at the Espada—who was grinning, his eyes dancing with
unspoken amusement—and then back at his friend. He raised a hand slowly,
pointing a finger hesitantly at the blue-haired man. "You can—you can see him?"
Keigo's eyebrows furrowed as he nodded slowly, shooting his friend a look oddly
somewhere between concern and suspicion. "Yeah... why wouldn't I be able to see
him?"
Ichigo frowned. He looked back at the guy, studying him again. Shit. Maybe he
wasn't the hollow. His gaze dropped suddenly to the man's torso, looking for
but not finding a dip in his lower abdomen where he would have expected there
to be nor did he feel any significant spiritual pressure coming off of him.
Odd.
His hand reached out seemingly of its own accord and pulled the blue shirt up
to reveal a very tone stomach. His gaze drifted down, following along tapering
muscle lines to find completely unblemished skin that dipped under a pair of
low slung slacks, the rest hidden from view. It was gone. "Where'd it go? How
did-"
"Looking for something?"
Ichigo started at the teasing words, his gaze shifting up to meet highly amused
eyes with another emotion swimming in them that made him swallow hard as he
still gripped a handful of soft, blue material tightly in his fist. "Ah..."
The man let out a husky laugh. "Maybe you should look lower," he offered
helpfully, his eyebrows raising in a suggestive manner.
Ichigo looked back down—Oh—his hand quickly released the man's shirt as if it
had burned him, the material dropping and doing its intended job of covering
washboard abs from view once more. It wasn't him; he was losing it. He had just
molested a stranger in a dance club and had said some very odd things to him to
top it off. A very attractive stranger at that.
He took a step back, a hand running up to rub at the back of his neck, heat
having rushed to the surface as embarrassment finally settled in comfortably,
clearly thinking its stay would be substantial. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm
so sorry about that. I thought you were someone else," he stammered, looking
away.
"I'll tell you what... I'll let it slide—on one condition." Ichigo looked back
up. "Since you're clearly not a dancer, have a drink with me."
===============================================================================
 
"So how many blue-haired guys do you know?"
Ichigo took the offered glass from the guy standing before him, his fingers
brushing his and making him regret his actions even further as his pulse began
to pound in earnest at the simple touch. Why did he even want to talk to him
after all that? He shook his head. "Only one," he said, leaning in slightly to
make his voice heard over the loud music.
The man nodded and took a drink, raising his eyebrows in expectation until
Ichigo mimicked him, taking a sip of his own. "You two have a thing?"
Brown eyes widened. "Hell no! I—I mean. No." He frowned and cursed himself as
the man chuckled beside him for the umpteenth time that night. It was official,
he was a spaz. Ichigo Kurosaki: spaz extraordinaire. He looked down into his
drink forlornly.
"Sorry. I just figured since you said you'd been dreaming about him and then
the shirt..."
Ichigo resisted facepalming. It just got worse. He looked up at the guy,
surprised to find familiar-looking green tattoo markings edging his eyes. Had
those been there before? "What did you say your name was again?"
"I didn't," the man said matter-of-factly and then shifted closer, setting his
mostly full drink on the bar as his other hand reached out to rest on Ichigo's
side. He grasped tightly, eliciting a hitched breath from surprised lips, his
other hand finding the opposite side. "I haven't seen you here before, I'd
remember."
Ichigo shook his head, trying to clear his mind as his body responded far too
eagerly to the resting hands. He forced out a response. "I've never been here
before, this isn't really my thing."
"I would have never guessed," he said, a crooked smile making itself known as
he looked down at Ichigo and pulled him closer until their chests were just
touching, his pupils almost taking over the blue of his eyes as he continued in
a deep silky voice, "Why don't we get out of here then."
"Yeah?" Ichigo asked, his voice suddenly rough and breathing uneven as his mind
struggled to retain normal functioning. He couldn't just leave with him. He
didn't even know the guy's name or how old he was for that matter, he clearly
was a few years older than him—at least.
"Yeah."
Thumbs hooked under the hem of his white shirt and began to rub gently across
the skin right above his pants line, leaving trails of blazing heat in their
wake that sunk in before traveling in a southwardly direction. Fuck. He would
get more details later. He found himself nodding. "What'd you have in mind?"
A smile slowly crept up the corners of the tall man's lips, a gleam in his eye
as he leaned down to whisper softly in Ichigo's ear.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Somewhere private.The whispered suggestion was still taunting Ichigo and making
his pulse race even as he walked alongside the blue-haired man at a casual pace
down the busy street. He wasn't innocent, he had kissed and... done other
things. But not with anyone as attractive as the guy he had just met, and
definitely not after only knowing them only a few minutes. He glanced over and
found himself staring. Well, maybe one, but he didn't count the hollow. The
resemblance really was uncanny.
He was at least six-foot-two, if not taller, his shocking blue hair was styled
back away from his striking features; piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones and a
lethal jawbone. He could be his twin. Ichigo held back a groan; that shouldn't
be a good thing. What was he doing going off with a clone of one of his
enemies? Was he that desperate to actually make out with the Espada? No. No, he
just needed to get him out of his head so he could get some sleep. And this
would help. Maybe.
Ichigo's thoughts came to a halt when his shoes suddenly hit softer ground, and
he realized they had begun to make their way silently away from the street
lights and crowds and down towards the quiet river's edge, the sky above them
filled with a full display of the stars and moon, the slight breeze ruffling at
his wild hair in an idle fashion with no clouds to push across the inky black
sky.
He watched as the taller man sat down at the shore's edge and then laid back
into the grass with his arms spread out by his sides, grinning up at him and
looking every bit like the hollow when he had been knocked from the sky—except
for the clothes.. and blood. He looked away.
"Aren't you going to join me—Ichigo?"
Ichigo felt his mouth go dry at the sound of his name rolling smoothly from the
man's lips, his voice deep and edged with a teasing sound that roughened it
just enough to make his breath catch in his throat. It was the first time he
had spoken since the club, and hearing it clearly without the loud music and
shouts of people around them he could tell—without a doubt—his voice sounded
the same too.
"I won't bite," the man teased, his smile growing and disagreeing with his
words.
Ichigo sat down hesitantly, leaving at least a foot of space between them as he
realized just how wrong this all was.
"Tell me about him."
Ichigo looked over. "What?"
The man laughed, rolling onto his side and pushing up onto one elbow. "The guy
you thought I was, the one you're thinking about."
Ichigo let out a begrudging sigh and dropped back into the soft grass, not
bothering to deny his thoughts. "There's not much to say. He's crazy, a
complete maniac... and he's stalking me I think."
"In your dreams? Sounds like you might just have a thing for him."
"The hell I do!" Ichigo sat up quickly. This had been a bad idea. A very bad
idea. He started to stand when a hand grabbed his arm, holding him in place,
the man shifting closer to him.
"Fuck, you're adorable when you're mad." The words whispered as the space
between them seemed to shrink.
Ichigo found himself trapped in blue eyes, a hand reaching up and grasping the
back of his neck as his lips gravitated towards the smirking mouth. "I'm not
adorable."
A huff of a laugh escaped the man's lips. "Okay. Sexy. Is that better?" he
asked, leaning closer until their lips were almost touching. "You're fucking
sexy as hell."
Ichigo swallowed hard and found himself leaning in and pressing his lips
against the man's. His eyes fell shut and his lips parted, his tongue sliding
out. He felt the hand tighten on his neck, and he ran his hands up into blue
locks that had been torturing his needy fingertips since he had first seen
them. This would help. It had to. He opened his mouth wider, tilting his head
to the side as a talented tongue flicked into his mouth. The taste familiar and
filling his mind with unbidden thoughts of the Espada. He groaned, partially
from frustration but mostly because hot fingers that had slid up his shirt were
just then trailing along a scar that ran down his right side, the end of it
dipping below his pants. "A-ah."
"That's a nice scar you have," the blue-haired man murmured against his mouth
as his fingers teasingly traced the soft skin just under his boxers. A smile
played on his lips. "How'd you get it?"
Ichigo tried to think as his racing pulse and heavy breathing filled his
thoughts only to be joined with flashes of blue, bare skin, taunting words,
painful pleasure, rough hands but whisper-soft fingers. Grimmjow.
===============================================================================
 
"Ichigo. Earth to Ichigo!"
Ichigo let out a surprised noise of pain, rubbing his reddening cheek as he
looked up at a hostile face filled with tattoos. "What the hell, Renji?" he
growled, shoving the Soul Reaper out of his face as well as slapping range.
"Why did you hit me?"
"You wouldn't answer me," the red-head replied with an unapologetic shrug
before dropping down beside Ichigo and joining him under a tree at lunch time.
"What were you thinking about? Your hot date from the other night?" he asked
with a knowing grin, nicking an apple from his plate and taking a big bite.
Ichigo closed his eyes, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree and
holding back a groan. "Who told you?"
"I did." The happy concession was followed by a giggle. "Rukia told me about it
this morning on the way to school. Did you get lucky?"
Ichigo shook his head, opening his eyes to find Rangiku sitting down across
from him, her long legs stretched out in front of her as she wiggled her bare
toes in front of him, shoes sitting abandoned in the grass beside her. "How did
Rukia find out?" He hadn't told her. He hadn't told anyone.
Renji and Rangiku sat quietly, both shooting him looks somewhere between
disappointment and utter disbelief. Ichigo let out a loud groan. Of course.
"That bastard. I'm going to kill Keigo!"
"I'll do it for you," Ikkaku offered, sitting down on Ichigo's other side and
picking up the unopened juice box from his lunch tray. He pushed the straw into
the hole and took a long sip as he watched Ichigo's face grow increasingly
dark. He opened his mouth, letting the straw fall from his lips. "Why didn't
you tell us you were gay?"
Ichigo's eyes widened, his chin dropping open. "What?" he heard himself ask. He
really was going to murder his ex-friend. He had not planned on coming out to
the group of Soul Reapers any time soon, if at all. They didn't need to know
about his personal life. Hell, he still hadn't told his family, and Keigo only
knew because he had guessed.
Renji leaned in, wrapping an arm around Ichigo's shoulders as Ikkaku laughed
boisterously by his side. "Don't worry Ichigo, we won't tell anyone," he said
quietly, his tone conspiratorial.
"Yeah, we'll keep your little secret," Ikkaku said with a wink, shooting him a
sharkish grin. "Athough, if you really do want to keep it quiet, cuddling with
Renji in the middle of school might not be the best idea."
Renji's arm dropped from Ichigo as he jumped up. "Cuddling? I don't fucking
cuddle. Take it back, Madarame!"
Ichigo looked back down at his tray as Ikkaku pushed himself up, his wooden
sword already out as he squared himself in front of the angry red head, Rangiku
watching on in amusement.
"Why don't you make me, Abarai?"
Ichigo studied his picked over plate as the rest of his night replayed in his
mind. He had jumped up after being hit by the unwanted feelings of deja vu from
his dreams, mumbling some pathetic excuse about curfew and leaving the
attractive man in the grass without a second glance. What had he been thinking?
He had left without getting his number or even saying goodbye. And curfew?
He rested his face in his hands. He would never see him again he was sure, the
thought making him feel exponentially worse.
===============================================================================
 
"The last tenant left rather abruptly." Uncomfortable laughter filled the
brightly lit and air-conditioned apartment. "If you need, we can remove the
furniture so you can move your own in." A pause. "Ah, Gaeger-"
"Jaegerjaquez," Grimmjow said shortly, correcting the too talkative realtor
before she could butcher his name another time. He scanned the small but
upscale apartment. The furniture looked new, an oversized black leather sofa
and matching chair sat in the living room on top of a plush white rug that
partially covered large dark wooden planks. The hardwood floors ran into the
dining/kitchen area and contrasted the off white cabinetry and white marble
countertops. It was nicer than being in Las Noches, that's all that mattered.
Even if it was only temporary.
He clenched and unclenched his left fist unconsciously, the muscles in his arm
flexing as he did, the movement and feeling from his lost appendage soothing
his mind. He would have to thank Ichimaru for getting him in contact with the
odd shinigami named Urahara, he would miss the gigai sorely when he was
finished here.
"No, the furniture is fine, I won't be here long." He looked over, the blonde
realtor shooting him a flirtatious look back, he resisted rolling his eyes. He
had found the week since he had been in Karakura town that women were far too
interested in him, he wondered if he'd had to suffer with that when he had been
alive.
"I see. Well then, if you are indeed interested, we can set up a monthly lease
as we discussed earlier. I have the paperwork with me right here." The woman
set a folder down on the island, opening it for him to look at it.
Grimmjow hummed indecisively as he walked over to one of the oversized windows
in the living room area and looked down onto the road, his gaze trained and
waiting.
"What brings you here if I might ask? Business-" She paused and then hedged in
a playful tone, "or pleasure?"
"Both." He smiled, cool blue eyes focusing sharply as a familiar head of
vibrant orange hair came into view and began to cross the street at a jog's
pace, moving unknowingly closer to him.
The Espada had chosen the apartment building after finding out a few days
before that it was right along the shinigami's trek to and from school. His
gaze narrowed suddenly when he noticed another set of colorful locks following
along with him, a little too closely. It was one of the other Soul Reapers. His
jaw clenched tightly when the red-head slung an arm around Ichigo's shoulders,
pulling him closer to whisper something in his ear, the two boys laughing
together afterward in a secretive fashion.
"I'll take it," he said through clenched teeth, not caring that his words had
sounded like a growl as he shoved the window up and open. He leaned out with a
forced grin as his insides churned with an indiscernible feeling that made him
want to jump out of the four-story window and attack the grinning red-head
below. "Oi, Ichigo!"
Surprised brown eyes shot up to meet his gaze.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Ichigo found himself looking up at a grinning blue-haired man. He couldn't
believe it. He had just been thinking he'd never see him again, and there he
was, leaning out of an apartment window only a few blocks from his house.
"Hey..." He paused, frowning when he realized he still didn't know his name but
not wanting to admit it in front of the red-head standing by his side.
Grimmjow leaned over further, blue eyebrows lifted. "School uniform, huh,
Ichigo?" he asked, tone playful, his smile growing when the boy looked down
abruptly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kurosaki was shy, something he would
have never expected from their fight, but ever since their first interaction in
the bar, the substitute Soul Reaper was constantly toeing the line between
angry-in-your-face-I'm a shinigami dammit-I'll-cut-you-open and shy-I'm-still-
a-virgin-please Grimmjow please-take-me. Not that he was complaining, because
he wasn't, he liked it. A lot. He adjusted himself discreetly.
Brown eyes flitted back up somewhat hesitantly. Ichigo shifted his bookbag over
his shoulder. "So... you live here?" he asked, wanting to tack on 'alone', but
cleared his throat instead.
Grimmjow tilted his head to the side, studying the lines of the boy's neck as
he looked up at him. Delicious. He wet his lips before answering simply, "For
now."
Ichigo found himself nodding at the obscure statement, his eyebrows pinching
together slightly at the man's elusiveness. Maybe he was married, or had a
significant other, or maybe he was a serial-killer. He shook the ridiculous
latter thought from his mind, while making a mental note to check on the two
former. Not that it would matter now, because he obviously wasn't interested
anymore.
Ichigo forced a smile. "Ah, well, I guess I'll see you around then..." He
trailed off, ignoring the disappointment he felt at the guy not coming down, or
better, asking him up. Of course he wouldn't, he had just pointed out their
obvious age gap. Stupid. So stupid Ichigo. He made to walk on.
Grimmjow's smile widened as if he could read the orange-hair's thoughts and
found them highly amusing. "So do y'want to grab something to eat?" he asked,
keeping his tone light and stopping Ichigo in his tracks.
Ichigo resisted looking over at Renji, who had begun making noises of dissent
in the back of his throat. He nodded, moving his hand to his wild hair and
messing it a bit with agitated fingers. "Yeah sure. What'd you have in mind?"
he asked, trying not to sound too eager.
The Espada's eyes flitted down Ichigo's lithe frame. Maybe his soul. "Whatever
you want," he said instead, because really it would ruin all the fun he had
planned, it would have to wait. "Give me a second, and I'll buzz you up, it's
apartment 6."
His dark blue gaze swung over to the red-headed Soul Reaper, whose noises had
grown more insistent, hardening when the tattooed boy scowled up at him. He
pushed the window down firmly and walked over to the kitchen where the realtor
was still waiting, a curious expression on her features. He picked up the pen,
signed the two marked lines without hesitation and then handed her the folder.
"If you need any help getting to know the area—“
"No, I've already got someone," he said shortly as he guided the blonde to the
front door, shutting the door firmly behind her when the intercom buzzed
impatiently on the wall in the entryway.
He grinned and waited, letting it buzz a second time before pushing down on the
front-door unlock button to let him up, not bothering to say anything into the
speaker.
===============================================================================
“Who the fuck was that?" Renji demanded as soon as the window had shut. Ichigo
grimaced, not responding, and red eyebrows shot up in realization. "Ichigo, is
that—is that the guy you left the club with? He's-"
Ichigo walked off, not paying attention to the Soul Reaper as he scanned the
registry at the apartment building's front door. Number 6... Pantera, G. What
did the 'G' stand for? He lifted his hand to push the call button.
"Ichigo!" A hand reached out and grabbed Ichigo's, stopping him. "You can't go
up there! That guy—he has to be ten years older than you, at least!"
Ichigo pulled his hand away, staring pointedly at Renji as he pushed the button
to apartment 6 firmly. He hated being told what to do. "Watch me," he said
dryly.
Renji snarled. "Ichigo, he's obviously a fucking pervert, you can't be
serious." He scrunched up his tattooed eyebrows then, frowning. "And he looks
familiar too, like someone I've seen before..."
Ichigo pressed down the button again in response, longer, hoping he would open
the front door already before the Soul Reaper made the connection. He didn't
need to hear his thoughts on the situation.
The door finally buzzed and then clicked loudly, unlocking, and he grabbed the
handle, shooting a disapproving Renji an impish grin over his shoulder as he
walked in. "I'll see you later, don't wait for me."
The door clicked shut behind him, and he began to make his way through the
upscale lobby, feeling somewhat out of place. He smiled at the doorman in his
suit behind the desk to his right as he continued on his way over to the
elevator, his mind buzzing as he stepped in, pushing the button for the fourth
floor, that claimed apartments 5 and 6. He watched the heavy metal doors close
before focusing back on his racing thoughts.
What was his plan? He was going up to a stranger's apartment, and for what? To
fool around, hopefully, his mind supplied eagerly. Shit. He closed his eyes,
shaking his head in disbelief. The man—Pantera?—was no way still interested in
him. Was he? He had pointed out his school uniform after all. Although, after
that he did invite him up to his apartment, and it was his last year, maybe he
didn't care.
The doors slid open with a ‘ding’ and Ichigo stepped forward in a hurry to run
straight into a tall blonde, the woman almost his height in her heels. His
hands shot out, catching her when she almost fell back. "Sorry. Sorry, are you
okay?"
The woman looked at him in surprise, pulling away and smoothing out her grey
dress suit to shoot him a snooty look. "Yes, I'm fine. You should watch where
you're going," she said sharply before wrinkling her nose and walking past him.
Ichigo shrugged and made his way to the apartment on the right labelled number
6. He lifted his hand to knock when the door pulled open. His mouth dropped as
he found himself greeted by a shirtless torso.
===============================================================================
Grimmjow grinned at the shinigami and then looked up to see the blonde realtor
by the elevator door, studying them with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
"My guide," he called quickly over Ichigo's shoulder at the blonde, before she
could make another attempt at his name. That wouldn't be good. He winked at her
and then took Ichigo by the arm, guiding him into his new apartment before
shutting the door and locking it behind them. Didn't want him to escape this
time.
He turned around to see the orange-haired boy not so discreetly gaping at him
only half-dressed as he stood in his school uniform. He grinned slowly.
"Surprised to see me?" he teased.
Ichigo blinked, struggling to gather his thoughts. "I. Yes. I mean... about
last week-"
Grimmjow nodded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and leaning back
slightly to flex his stomach muscles as he waited patiently. "Go on."
Ichigo ran a hand up into his mess of hair, rubbing at it, his gaze shooting
down to the straining muscles again. "I'm sorry I left like that. I had—" He
dropped off.
"Curfew. I remember," he said, grinning when a flush ran up the boy's neck as a
glint of anger flashed in his eyes. He took a step closer, excitement spurring
him on. "Tell me, Ichigo, how old are you exactly?"
Ichigo's anger melted away at the question, his mouth didn't move.
Grimmjow took another step forward, running his hands down the boy's shoulders
and over his clothed arms before tugging at his sleeves.
"Eighteen?" he asked softly, smiling when Ichigo shook his head, and he began
to help him remove the jacket by pulling the sleeves down over his hands. He
tossed the piece of clothing onto the floor and then began to play with the top
button on his shirt.
"Seventeen?" he asked, his body growing more excited as he began to undo the
boy's shirt, his fingers undeterred when he shook his head again but
begrudgingly. It didn't matter for what he had planned, if he was old enough to
fight as a Soul Reaper and die by his hands he was old enough to be fucked by
him. It was only fair.
He grimaced, when there was an unusual tightening in his chest at the thought
for some reason. Odd. He ignored it, it must be his gigai acting up. The real
question, and his reason for asking, was one he couldn't actually ask, at least
not without outing himself; he wanted to know how the young Soul Reaper was
still alive, still aging, and yet so incredibly strong, because he was more
than impressed with his captain-like powers, not to mention the hollowish ones
he appeared to have too; even if he hadn't mastered them yet. He was intrigued,
and Grimmjow was rarely so.
Ichigo laughed roughly, finally speaking up, the blue-haired man's knuckles
brushing the skin of his stomach as he worked on the last few buttons to his
shirt. "Sixteen, I'm almost seventeen though. My birthday's next week."
Grimmjow nodded in an impressed manner as he undid the final button of the
boy's shirt and then said, "Ah, young, just how I like 'em," with a devilish
grin, grabbing hold of the boy's unbuttoned white shirt and tugging him closer
as Ichigo let out a laugh. He found his grin softening somewhat when arms
wrapped around his neck, making a slow breath escape his lips unbidden as he
looked down into cinnamon-colored eyes.
"That makes you sound like a pervert, y'know?" Ichigo retorted glibly, looking
up with an amused expression.
The hollow nodded as another strange sensation began to whirl inside his chest,
isolating to one spot and intensifying. "I'm okay with that," he said in a low
quiet voice and then leaned down and captured the boy's lips. He almost felt
bad for deceiving him as their mouths moved against each other, soft lips
parting obligingly under his own. Almost.
He slid his tongue out and into the shinigami's receptive mouth, his hands
sliding down and snaking inside his shirt, touching smooth skin and wrapping
around his waist, lifting him up and grinning as legs parted as well, wrapping
welcomingly around him. At least they wouldn't have to argue over that.
He took a few steps forward, and then he was pushing him up against a wall. He
moved his mouth down to the boy's neck, alternating kissing and licking as he
pressed himself firmly between spread legs and causing a pounding to start up
in his chest. "I want to fuck you so bad," he whispered against delicious skin,
a groan falling from parted lips and making the statement even more true.
"Your room... is—is it down there?" Ichigo asked in a rough voice that sent
chills down the Espada's back, pointing down the hallway they were standing in.
"Maybe," Grimmjow said, realizing he hadn't even seen it yet. "Let's check and
see." He started to laugh as he took a step back to let Ichigo slide down and
then realization hit him—There was something pounding in his chest.
He blinked, lifting a hand and setting it over the spot, jerking it away in
surprise. Yes, there was definitely something moving underneath. Maybe there
was something wrong with his gigai.
"Something wrong?"
The blue-haired hollow looked down to find a hand resting over the area where
the thumping was coming from. "No, I, uh-"
"It feels like mine," Ichigo said, lifting the hollow's hand and placing it on
his own chest in the same place.
Grimmjow's eyes widened as realization hit him like a bucket of ice water to
the face, Ichigo's heart pounding under his touch. No. His hand dropped, and he
took a step back and then another.
It wasn't supposed to do that—his jaw clenched suddenly. He would kill the
shopkeeper.
He didn't register the shinigami's words as he turned away and made his way for
the door.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Ichigo stood, his mouth agape and brown eyes wide as he leaned against the wall
he had been shoved up against not minutes before. He had just left. One minute
they were making out... and then the next, he had just walked off and left him.
The orange-haired teen walked numbly over to the still open door and peered
out—the hallway was empty. He made his way over to the windows that overlooked
the street, eyes searching until a shock of blue hair caught his gaze directly
below, the man presumably named Pantera coming into full view, his back at
least, as he strode stiffly down the sidewalk at what might be called an angry
speed, shirtless. Ichigo took a step back when the guy turned the corner,
clearly not planning on coming back anytime soon.
He ran an agitated hand up into wild orange locks as he searched through their
recent interaction to figure out what might have elicited the response. They
had been kissing, rather aggressively, and then the guy had mentioned things,
and Ichigo had asked about his bedroom.
He growled as he walked over to grab his clothes off the floor, pulling on his
shirt and then his jacket without bothering with the buttons as his anger only
grew alongside a blooming embarrassment in his chest. "What the hell?" he half-
shouted to the empty room around him.
The situation was messed up. The guy still hadn't told him his name, and then
he just stalked out mid-grope without any explanation. He looked around—and he
had left him in his apartment. It was his fucking apartment! Brown eyes
narrowed, and Ichigo walked over to the door, shutting it hard behind him and
continued on his way to the elevator. Forget that.
===============================================================================
 
Grimmjow turned the last corner to bring him in sight of Urahara Shop, his
hands clenched by his sides and teeth grinding. He shoved the door open, bells
clanging, and the wooden door banging against something as he entered. "You!"
he barked, pointing down at a young boy with vibrant red hair, who had been
sweeping the aisles, but was now watching him instead with wide eyes. "Where is
Kisuke?" he demanded.
"I... He's, uh, not in right now, I don't know where he is," the boy said
hesitantly, taking a step back.
Grimmjow began to growl, his lips pulling back to show gleaming white teeth. He
took a measured step forward and then another when the boy backed up at the
motion. "Listen here, you little brat, if you don't tell me—"
"Ah, Grimmjow, you're back, I was wondering when I'd see you again."
Dark blue eyes turned slowly to the sing-songy voice and then hardened on the
man standing just a few feet away, his hat he was wearing indoors shadowing his
eyes. He shifted his body, the thumping in his chest speeding up suddenly and
reminding him unnecessarily why he was there.
"What..." he said in a quietly strained voice, closing his eyes for a long
moment as he fought to maintain control, and then continuing, "did you do to
me?" Grimmjow was a fighter, but he was not an idiot. It would not do to kill
the man who had to help him exit his Gigai suit.
The man named Kisuke Urahara tilted his head to the side, remaining quiet for a
short beat before saying in a calm tone, "Leave us to talk, Jinta."
The boy looked between them. "What? No! This guy's a-"
"Jinta," the blond man said, still in his calm voice. "You can take your break
now with Ururu. Go on." He smiled at the boy, and even began to whistle as he
waited for the red-head to take his broom and sulk away angrily. When the front
door shut, his whistling cut off. "It's good to see you again, Grimmjow. You're
two days late though, remember we had a meeting set up."
Blue eyes narrowed into slits. "What is wrong with this suit?"
The shop keeper took a step closer, not seeming to notice or possibly not care
when Grimmjow's muscles flexed threateningly at his nearness. The man hummed
thoughtfully, scanning his bare torso and then walking around and doing the
same to his back. Fingers wrapped around Grimmjow's left forearm, and the man
lifted his arm straight out much to the hollow's surprise and then let it drop
back to his side. He circled back around, nodding thoughtfully.
Grimmjow's nostrils flared. Keep it together.
"Appears in perfect shape to me, what seems to be the problem?" the man asked
with a chuckle.
Grimmjow blinked once. "I have a heartbeat."
The man's eyes widened in a show of surprise, but somehow it came across
mocking. "Oh? Interesting..." He whipped out a notebook from his pocket and
began to scribble on it with a pen he had pulled out of his green and white
striped hat. "When did that start?" he asked, his tone taking on a serious
quality.
Blue eyebrows furrowed. "Ah, about ten minutes ago."
The shop keeper nodded and made humming noises of assent, scribbling something
else on the pad in his hand. "And what were you doing when this occurred?"
Blues eyes narrowed. "Trying to get laid."
The hat slowly tilted up until Grimmjow was met once again by the man's shaded
eyes. "Oh?"
"Yes," he said shortly. "Now, why is it there?" He growled when the thumping
sped up in his chest, annoying him. He just wanted it to stop already. "Do you
have a knife?" He turned to look for one.
"Oh, I wouldn't advise that."
The words had been said calmly enough, but there was a smugness to them that
made the Espada stop cold in his tracks. He turned back around slowly, the
thumping growing even wilder, like a caged animal trying to break free. "And
why not?" he asked, his tone icy.
The shop keeper took a step closer, placed a hand on his bare chest, making
blue eyes pop open in a feral way, and then removed it immediately and began to
write back on his notepad. "Yes, definitely a heartbeat..." he mumbled, and
then scribbled a few more notes before answering nonchalantly, "Because,
Jaegerjaquez you are currently a human, or at least in a human state, and if
you do that, you will die, meaning you'd have to go through all those painfully
long steps to get back to being an Espada, assuming you were even given the
chance this time. I'm not certain on that." He snapped his notebook shut at
that and then smiled benignly at the man as if he hadn't just told him the
worst news possible.
Grimmjow took a step forward. "Human?" The man nodded, Grimmjow gritted his
teeth. "Do you think this is some kind of joke? You were supposed to equip me
with a gigai so I could win over Kurosaki and bring him back to Las Noches,
that was the agreement. How am I supposed to do that if I'm a human?" he asked,
growing angrier with each word.
"How were you supposed to do it if you weren't human?" the man asked in
response, his expression infuriatingly blank.
Grimmjow began to growl. Maybe he would just go ahead and kill him. Fingers
clenched into tight fists.
"Bad idea," the man, Kisuke, said as if he knew what he was thinking, turning
to the side and leaving himself exposed as he began to search lazily through
the drawers of a nearby desk for something. "I am stronger than you, I can
leave my body still. Ah, found it." He pulled out something with black tubes
and a silver circular thing and walked towards him. "Let me show you something.
You'll need to stop growling for it."
Grimmjow cut the noise. Why had Gin sent him to this guy, he was a lunatic.
Although, why was he surprised? Gin Ichimaru was as crazy as they came. He
should have known better than to take any job from him. He clenched his jaw
when the shop keeper placed the ends of the tubes into his ears. He started to
pull them back out when the man placed the cold silver circle flat against his
chest—And then he heard it. His heart. He blinked a few times, the sound oddly
soothing unlike the feeling. It almost reminded him of something, something he
couldn't quite pinpoint.
Kisuke removed the buds and shot him a pointed look. "Don't you think Kurosaki
would notice that missing? And if not, he would have certainly noticed your
spiritual signature, I couldn't hide that much pressure in one of my normal
gigai. This was the only option." He motioned at him with a sweeping hand.
Grimmjow cleared his throat as he continued to calm down. "I suppose," he said
begrudgingly. He eyed him warily. "You can change me back?"
The man placed the black and silver object back into his drawer and closed it
softly before looking back up. "Not quite, I'm working on that right now, but
until then I'd suggest you not die or make Kurosaki too mad, because you'll
lose in a fight with him as of now." And then the man picked up a black canvas
shopping bag from the floor and held it out to him with a smile. "Ichimaru
asked me to give this to you."
Grimmjow stood completely rigid. "So you're saying I have no powers right now?"
The man shook his head happily, still holding out the bag. "Not other than your
strength, good thing you're a muscular young man, Jaegerjaquez."
Grimmjow growled. "I'll kill you."
The shop keeper grinned cheerfully. "Not until you're out of that gigai though.
I'd also recommend avoiding any enemies you might have, I hear arrancars aren't
too friendly with each other. Keep a low profile. Without any real spiritual
pulse though, that shouldn't be too hard." He glanced down at the offered bag
and then back up at him expectantly.
Grimmjow growled again, grabbed the bag and spun around. He stomped towards the
exit as the man called out parting words to his back.
"Come back in a week so I can check how your suit is doing, oh, and let me know
if you start having emotions, they're those things that make you feel funny if
you do something good or bad!"
Grimmjow flipped the man off as he pulled the door open and then slammed it
shut behind him. He muttered to himself as he strode down the sidewalk.
Heartbeat? Human? Emotions? They were plotting against him, he just knew it.
Gin and Kisuke, and probably Kaname too—he loathed that blind self-righteous
asshole. He should have noticed when he first started having those odd twinges
in his chest that something wasn't right, but then again they had really only
happened once around—
"Oi! Pantera! Oi!"
Grimmjow jerked his head around at the familiar but not happy voice and found
himself glaring at a jogging Ichigo. He dropped the expression, schooling
himself quickly. Right. The shinigami. He held himself in place as the boy
slowed to a quick walk.
"Hey, uh..." Ichigo stopped, his anger suddenly gone as he noticed the still
bare-chested and visibly upset blue-haired man before him. He glanced over to
where he had first seen him, coming out of Kisuke's store. "Were you just in
Urahara's shop?"
Grimmjow let out a heavy breath. He knew he should be doing damage control, but
he couldn't quite get it together. "Yep," he said curtly and considered just
walking off.
Ichigo frowned, noticing the bag he was holding. "What's that?"
Grimmjow pressed his lips together tightly and then forced out the painfully
polite words, "Just some necessities." He smiled, but the look must have been
off because Ichigo frowned.
"Is something wrong?" Ichigo asked somewhat hesitantly. "I mean, did I do
something to upset you? You left kind of quickly," he said, being rather
generous in his opinion. The man had booked it, and to what, to go... shopping?
Grimmjow closed his eyes for a moment, took in a slow breath and let it out,
finding the action he had always done as a hollow for no apparent reason oddly
helpful at that moment. Maybe it was another side effect of the gigai, because
his heartbeat was softening as well. He looked down at the shinigami. "Yeah, I
just needed to get something important."
Ichigo stood quietly for a moment and then his eyes widened suddenly, and his
expression slowly softened, and he looked down at the sidewalk. "Oh."
Grimmjow frowned as he watched a telling flush run up the boy's neck. And then
it hit him. He held back a grin, his dark mood kicked like a bad habit. He must
think he meant—"Yeah, you see, I was all out."
Ichigo's gaze flicked back up, and he nodded. "Ah." And then lips quirked to
the side. "You could have told me, you just left..."
Grimmjow nodded slowly. His plan to fuck Ichigo then kill him and devour his
delicious soul in order to return to Las Noches and defeat Aizen, or at least
die trying, was on hold. Because as of now he was stuck here for an
indeterminate amount of time, as a human no less, and none of his plan other
than the very first part was still feasible in his condition. And he had a
growing suspicion the shop keeper shinigami was not going to help an Espada get
back his powers no matter how shady he was.
"So, uh.." Ichigo shifted uncomfortably in front of him. "I need to get home
now. My dad has to work late, and my little sisters-
And then a new plan began to form in Grimmjow's mind as Ichigo chattered. It
was risky, but it might just be his only chance. He took a step closer to the
shinigami and grinned down at him, trying for apologetic, and receiving a more
hesitant smile in return. "Listen Ichigo, I should really tell you something
before we get any closer."
Ichigo nodded and took a step towards him, shrinking the space between them.
"All right. What is it?"
"If I tell you, you have to promise you'll let me explain before you react.
Okay?"
Ichigo frowned but nodded, looking lost. "Yeah, okay..."
Grimmjow looked down into the bag he was holding to see if there were any
weapons or something that might be of use. He pulled out a blue t-shirt and
frowned. Was Gin watching him? He tugged it over his head anyway and then
crouched down and began to dig through the bag as Ichigo waited.
Ichigo watched the blue-haired man search through his bag from Kisuke's shop,
his confusion only growing when he lifted a box of condoms and growled before
throwing them back in, muttering something under his breath about checking for
surveillance cameras. He glanced around the busy street and then back down at
the man. He was lucky he was so incredibly attractive, because he was also a
little weird.
Grimmjow gave up after finding nothing of use to defend himself and stood back
up. At least they were somewhere public. He looked down into waiting brown eyes
and said, "I haven't told you my name yet."
Ichigo didn't respond, a niggling in his chest stopping him from forming
coherent thought. He shook his head ever so slightly.
Grimmjow smiled again, his teeth gleaming and setting Ichigo even more on edge
as apprehension began to form one clear and very solid thought in his mind, a
word. No. No. No no no nono-
"It's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."
***** Chapter 6 *****
Ichigo's eyes widened, and his legs moved of their own accord, bringing him
within inches of the blue-haired man. "What?" he asked, thinking he must have
misheard.
Grimmjow opened his mouth to respond—
"What!" Ichigo shouted, the word not sounding at all like a question as his
mind made the connections, verifying the unexpected information for him. His
limited training kicked in, and he began to scan the area around him and the
Espada as he backed up. They stood on a sidewalk, the area extra busy with the
day's work hour having just come to an end. He didn't want there to be any
casualties. He would have to be careful.
He balled his hands into fists and glared at vibrant blue eyes, the eyes of a
killer. He didn't quite hold back a snarl. "What the fuck! I knew it! I knew
it! You lied to me!"
The man took a step forward slowly, his movements unnervingly lithe. He looked
down at Ichigo. "No, I never denied anything. You just assumed." He shook his
head in a disappointed fashion, making Ichigo's blood boil. "Come on. It's not
a big deal." He stepped forward again, his hand reaching out and Ichigo
matching the movement with a step back.
"Don't fucking touch me," Ichigo said in a quiet voice.
Grimmjow pulled back slowly, eyebrows raised and an amused smile playing at his
lips as he held his hands palms out in an appeasing manner. "Are you sure
that's what you want? Maybe if you got it out of your system, you'd stop
dreaming about me every night."
Ichigo's eyes widened before narrowing into slits. "How have you been doing
that?"
Grimmjow let out a clipped laugh. "I haven't." He shrugged his shoulders and
sniffed nonchalantly. "Or maybe I have, you didn't seem to mind though."
Ichigo took a step forward. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
The Espada tilted his head, eyeing him with deep blue eyes that made Ichigo
feel exposed. "You know what I mean. You weren't exactly pushing me away
earlier, were you?" He leaned down and whispered, "You were begging me for it
with those sounds." He ran a hand up Ichigo's shirt, splaying his fingers over
a taut stomach before saying in an even softer voice, "Weren't you, Ichigo?"
Ichigo sucked in a breath, his anger fighting with another emotion as long
fingers began to trail down his stomach. "What's your explanation?"
Grimmjow frowned, hand stilling. "My what?"
Ichigo clenched his jaw, giving an old woman passing a closed-mouth smile when
she patted Grimmjow on the shoulder, saying what a cute couple they made. He
moved back, putting more space between them. A couple. He had kissed him, and
wanted to do more. He had almost done more, he was going to let him—"Come on,"
he said brusquely and grabbed the wrist of the hollow as he started to walk,
his very step agitated as he pulled Grimmjow though the increasingly busy
streets. He stopped just in front of his house, dropping his hold as he fiddled
with the keys at the front door.
"This your house?" Grimmjow stood behind Ichigo, not sure if things were going
how he had hoped or the exact opposite.
"Shut. Up." Ichigo turned the doorknob after finally getting the key in and
shoved the door open. His little sisters wouldn't be home for another hour, he
would have to be quick in dealing with the Espada. He pushed open the door and
looked over to Grimmjow expectantly.
The Espada glanced in and then back at Ichigo before stepping in carefully as
if the entryway were booby-trapped.
Ichigo followed him, shutting the door behind them, his expression darkening as
the tall blue-haired man turned, stopping too close to him and making his
throat constrict. "Tell me," he said, his voice low.
Grimmjow tilted his head to the side as he took in the tense shinigami. He
hadn't attacked him yet. He flashed a smile. "Right. You see," he paused only
for a second before saying, "I've changed my ways."
Ichigo lifted his eyebrows. "You," he said, disbelievingly.
Grimmjow nodded innocently. "Yeah, I don't agree with Aizen." Which was
technically true.
The orange-haired teen took the last few steps to close their distance, his
hand shooting up and hitting Grimmjow in the chest, shoving him back into a
wall that held photos of the Kurosaki family all along it when he didn't
resist. "What do you really want?"
Grimmjow grimaced, agitated, the corner of a frame digging into his right
shoulder blade. He held back a growl, resisting the urge to engage the
shinigami, he could take him now, but if he were to jump from his body it
wouldn't even be close. He clenched his teeth and reeled in his anger. "That's
it." And then he rolled cobalt eyes when Ichigo didn't waver. "And I was trying
to fuck you too."
Ichigo blinked, his hand lightening on Grimmjow's chest before brown eyes
blinked again, and the hand dropped suddenly. He took a step back and cleared
his throat. "That's not going to happen. If you think I'd do that with a—with a
hollow, you're fucking crazy."
Grimmjow licked his lips and then said simply, his voice smooth once more,
"That won't be a problem, I'm not a hollow anymore."
"What?" Ichigo's stance stiffened again.
Grimmjow held his hands out by his sides as if offering himself for display.
"I'm human... again," he said. He couldn't actually remember ever being human,
but he knew that was how it worked.
Ichigo took a step forward, chocolate eyes burning with a murderous gleam and
nostrils flared. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Grimmjow let out a clipped laugh. "I'm not lying. Do you feel any spiritual
pressure, Ichigo?"
Ichigo's lips pressed in a tight line. "Don't. Call me that." And then he
studied the man more closely. He was right. It was gone. He hadn't felt it
before either, it had been one of the main reasons he had believed the man when
he had lied to him. Ichigo's glare returned full force. He had lied to him. He
lifted a hand, and stabbed the hollow with his index finger in the sternum
sharply. "I could kill you if what you say is true."
"Yes, but you won't." Grimmjow bluffed. He wrapped his hand around the teen's
wrist and gently pulled his finger away. "Urahara said I could trust you."
Orange eyebrows furrowed even as brown eyes managed to maintain their hard
glint.
"He said that you would help me. Unlike any other Soul Reaper, who would kill
me on the spot, no questions asked."
Ichigo's stance remained stiff, Grimmjow's hand still encircling his wrist.
"What kind of help do you need?"
Grimmjow's smile widened. "Acclimating," he said simply.
Ichigo took a small step back and pulled away from his grip. "To what?"
The blue-haired man laughed. "A human life again, Ichigo," he said, his words
not a little chastising.
"Don't call me that," Ichigo snapped.
"What would you prefer?"
Ichigo thought for a moment and then eyes darkened once more. "Nothing. You
can't call me anything."
Grimmjow tilted his head to the side and held back a laugh. "Okay. You can call
me Grimmjow."
The orange-haired teen's chin dropped, and then he quickly snapped his mouth
shut.
"Or Grimm," he offered when he was met with silence. He pushed his hands into
pants pockets, pressed his lips together and waited patiently for an explosion.
Ichigo's expression morphed from dark to red to dark again, and he growled.
"The hell I will! We don't need to call each other anything. What makes you
think that I'll even help you?"
Grimmjow shrugged. "You have a hero complex."
Ichigo sputtered. "What? No... I do not! And I'm not going to help you, so you
can just forget it!"
Grimmjow studied him for a long moment and then said in a surprisingly quiet
voice, "All right. I'll just be going then." He shrugged his shoulders, hands
still stuffed in his pockets. "I figured it was a long-shot, it's why I didn't
tell you who I was at first. I thought it'd help if you gave me a chance
first."
Ichigo blinked. He felt the slightest tug of guilt in his chest. He ignored it.
"Yeah, well, it didn't stop you from trying to take advantage of me."
Grimmjow laughed, the sound ending sharply. "You're the one who was willing
without even getting my name. I don't know if I could have taken advantage of
you if I'd tried, you were so willing."
Ichigo clenched his jaw, hands balling into fists by his side. "You're an ass."
Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah, I am, but no one's perfect, right? To err is human."
Ichigo scowled. "How do you know that?"
The blue-haired man shrugged easily. "Read it at a bus stop the other day.
Someone had carved it into the bench."
Ichigo just stared at him. He didn't know what to say to that.
Grimmjow ran a hand up into his hair, his shirt pulling up to reveal tan skin
as he raked long fingers through his styled hair. He found he had to use gel
now that he wasn't an arrancar anymore. "Right. Well, I'll be going," he said,
"Wish me luck. I'll need it."
Ichigo lifted one eyebrow.
The blue-haired man grinned, revealing gleaming white teeth. "You're a little
shit."
Ichigo shrugged. He watched the man walk to the door, his hand land on the
knob, and when he started to turn it, he heard himself say, "Wait..." Shit.
Grimmjow restrained the grin that was tugging at the corners of his lips,
trying to give him away. He shot a surprised look over his shoulder at the
shinigami. "Yeah?"
===============================================================================
 
Ichigo watched with crossed arms by the front door only ten minutes later as
the tall blue-haired man walked around his house at a leisurely pace, glancing
around curiously. He had called his neighbor, his little sisters' babysitter
when he was busy with Soul Reaper responsibilities, and asked her to take them
for the evening. He didn't want them around the apparently reformed Espada.
Just because he was human now—which he had checked with a quick call to Kisuke,
while the man had made use of his bathroom—didn't mean he wanted to have him
around his little sisters.
He eyed the muscular man, and mental images of their time together earlier that
day made its way to the forefront of his mind unbidden. He cleared his throat
along with the rogue thoughts. He would help him, but that was it. Nothing
more.
"So this is your place, huh?" Grimmjow asked, his deep tones conversational, as
he picked up a drawing off the table set in the center of the kitchen he was
standing. It looked like Ichigo when he was dressed as a substitute Soul
Reaper. He grinned widely, his teeth showing. "Is this a self-portrait of how
you see yourself?" He held up the piece of paper for the orange-haired teen to
view.
Ichigo let out a surprised huff of a laugh before he could stop himself. He
shook his head, toeing off his shoes by the door and tried to relax. He was too
tense. "No, uh, my little sister Karin drew that."
Grimmjow nodded, setting the drawing back down as he looked around the room
with renewed interest. She must have spirit powers as well. A light blue rain
jacket caught his gaze, it was lying across the arm of the couch in the
adjoining room and was far too small for the shinigami to wear. There was also
a stuffed animal lying on the floor covered in bandages. He walked over and
looked down at the lion plush, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, it almost
looked like it was glaring at him.
"That's Kon. Yuzu is practicing her doctoring skills on him," Ichigo said, a
smile evident in his words.
"You still live at home?" he asked, careful to keep the wariness out of his
voice. The infuriating shinigami at the shop had warned him about Ichigo's
father but that was it. He was a former captain evidently.
Ichigo nodded as he walked over to the living room the former Espada had made
his way over to. "Yeah, with my dad and two little sisters." He took a seat on
the edge of the couch, his gaze watching as the man nudged Kon in the shoulder
with his shoe, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. Ichigo held back a smile when
he saw the lion's mouth twitch ever so slightly. He spoke up. "So what is it
exactly you need help with, Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow glanced over, blue eyebrows raised. His expression slowly shifted to a
smug one, and he walked over slowly. He sat down on the couch beside him,
leaving only a few inches between them. "We're using names now... Ich?" Blue
eyes danced with amusement and some other more intense emotion that made his
thoat constrict.
Ichigo shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort as he sat so close to the blue-
haired man, even as a human, his presence was incredibly commanding. "Yeah, but
no nicknames," he said firmly. "It's Ichigo. Or you can call me Kurosaki." He
ran a hand into his hair and asked hesitantly, "Do you prefer Jaegerjaquez?"
Grimmjow cocked his head to the side as he eyed the shinigami beside him.
"Grimmjow is better." He smiled widely, his tone low and smooth. "Grimmjow and
Ichigo it is."
Ichigo swallowed hard. "And we're not... anymore."
Grimmjow's smile grew, the skin around his teal tattoos wrinkling. "Not what?"
"You know," Ichigo said hesitantly.
"I'm not sure I do, Ichigo," he said, leaning towards him and making Ichigo's
mind blank unhelpfully. "Maybe if you were more... specific," he almost
whispered, his eyes darting down to tempting parted lips.
Ichigo scooted away, putting more space between them. "Sex," he said in a tight
voice, "No sex."
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey, thanks for the comments, guys! :)
"Ichigo, there you are, wait up!"
Ichigo shot a glance over his shoulder, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and
book strap resting across his chest, to see Renji jogging down the sidewalk
after him as he made his way away from school at the end of the day. He closed
his eyes and came to stop with a heavy sigh, an arm slinging around him a few
seconds later predictably. "Hey Renji."
"Where you going? Home? I'll come with you, Ikkaku's busy, said he needed to
help Keigo's sister with some fight club," Renji said excitedly.
Ichigo frowned and then shrugged as he started walking again, Renji's arm
falling away. "Can't, I'm busy," he said under his breath as he considered what
his actual plan for the day was and how ridiculous it all was. Grimmjow wanted
him to show him around the city, and then he had made some comment about
needing shown around his apartment afterward too. Ichigo pressed his lips
together as he remembered the place he had been before, and what all they had
done there—
"Busy? With what? I can help," the red-head said, and he caught up again. He
placed a red rubber band between front teeth, and pulled his hair up into a
ponytail, fixing it as they crossed the busy street that would bring them to
the sidewalk that ran parallel to Grimmjow's apartment.
Ichigo held back a grimace. "Ah, actually I'm going out with a—a friend."
"That's cool, I'll go with you."
Ichigo shoved his hands even deeper into khaki-colored pockets as he studied
the concrete of the sidewalk. "That's probably not the best idea..."
"What? Why not? Wait..."
Ichigo kept walking at that, his chin tucking as he steeled himself. The
orange-haired teen glanced both ways and darted across the next street,
ignoring the warning hand flashing at the crosswalk, and the blaring horn of a
car as it whooshed behind him, the wind from it whipping at the back of his
shirt.
"Ichigo! You're not going to see that guy again are you?" was shouted from
across the street. "Ich-igo!"
Ichigo waved dismissively over his shoulder at the shinigami as he continued at
a fast pace. "See ya tomorrow!" he called out and kept walking, relaxing
somewhat when he didn't hear chasing footsteps, and then he turned the corner
to the street for his house. He wasn't lying to his friends, he just didn't see
what telling them would help. He could guess their responses pretty much too.
They were all murderous. Not that he blamed them. But, Grimmjow couldn't
protect himself, and he wasn't going to be going around eating any souls in the
near future. He rubbed at the side of his nose. So really, there was nothing to
be done.
"Hey Ichigo."
The teen stopped in his tracks at the deep silky voice, and his gaze lifted to
find a wide grin plastered on the object of his thoughts. The blue-haired man
standing on one leg, the other bent and his shoe resting along with his back
against his front door lazily, arms crossed, eyebrows lifted and blue eyes
piercing as they watched Ichigo begin to approach him. "How was school?"
Ichigo rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced around, fighting the fight-
or-flight response struggling for the attention of his muscles and heart rate
as he neared the former Espada. He let out a slow breath and shook his head, a
wry smile barely on his lips, as he stopped just a few feet from the man. "You
think that's funny, don't you?"
Grimmjow pushed off the door and took the few steps needed to close the space
between them, looking down at the shinigami. "Something like that," he said in
a low voice, his smile curling more as he imagined stripping the school tie and
shirt to get a better look at the lean chest that lay beneath. He lifted a hand
and rested it on the post only inches from Ichigo's shoulder. "I guess I just
never pictured you as a school boy when we used to interact."
Ichigo cleared his throat and moved around the man, his back facing him as he
pulled out his keys and fidgeted with the lock, chastising his eager body.
"Interact?" he asked coolly. "You mean when you tried to kill me?" A warm
breath brushed the back of his neck, and he froze, the key in the lock.
"Tried? I never tried to kill you, Ichigo," Grimmjow said softly, resisting
touching the shinigami but just barely as he stood behind him. "I was just
playing with you."
Ichigo clenched his jaw and shoved open the door. He walked in, irritation
crawling into his muscles, and he stopped short, turning sharply to catch the
blue-haired man unaware. "Playing with me?"
Grimmjow nodded slowly, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he met his
intense gaze. "Trust me, if I had wanted to kill you—I would have."
Ichigo clenched his jaw, hands balling into tight fists by his sides, but then
the blooming anger in his chest suddenly dissipated when the man's exact words
played again in his mind. He stood quietly for a moment. "Why... didn't you
want to kill me?" he asked, at a complete loss.
Grimmjow shrugged at that, his shoulder almost brushing Ichigo's as he moved
past him and into his kitchen. He stopped at a plate of food on the counter,
and he picked up one of them, took a small sniff and then a bite. His lips
tugged up, and he took another bite.
Ichigo stared with a mixture of disbelief and irritation at a seemingly content
Grimmjow. "Why?" he asked again.
Blue eyes shifted up as Grimmjow chewed on the food. "Did you want me to kill
you? Got a death wish, Ichigo?"
Ichigo frowned, dropping his keys into a small wooden bowl by the doorway as he
made his way into the kitchen, scowling when Grimmjow took another bite. "You
like those cookies, Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow's brows lifted, and he looked down at the food. He took another bite
and nodded. "Yeah, they're delicious."
Ichigo rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of him, feeling like he wanted to
either curse or smile at the simple admission that he would have never expected
from the once arrancar. He forced away the latter for the former angrily. "I
don't like you," he said, determined, and his jaw clenched, flexing, when
Grimmjow's only response was to take another bite.
The blue-haired man laughed at that and looked down at the space between them,
wondering if Ichigo realized how close they were standing. He popped the last
bite into his mouth, and he shifted closer. "Good, the feeling's mutual."
Brown eyes widened at that but then narrowed almost instantly. "Then why were
trying to get in my pants?"
Grimmjow huffed a whisper of a laugh and lifted a hand to cup the back of the
shinigami's neck, a smile making itself known when he didn't pull away. He
traced the pad of this thumb softly over a hard-working artery as he studied
the teen's tempting lips. "The same reason you were going to let me," he said
in a husky voice. And then he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just
over slightly parted ones. "I think you're hot, Ichigo," he whispered against
his mouth, and then his hand dropped, and he took a step back, grabbing another
cookie and taking a bite as he pretended not to notice the blank expression on
the orange-haired teen's face.
Ichigo blinked rapidly a few times and cleared his throat. "Well, uh... okay,"
he said dumbly and closed his eyes as he tried to find his mental faculties
that had seemed to jump ship at the ex-hollow's nearness. He ran a hand roughly
through spiky orange locks, mentally cursing his uncooperative body, and looked
up to meet quietly amused blue eyes as Grimmjow took another bite. He forced
his eyes not to trail over the tall man, turning away to speak. "Right, well
let's get started then," he said in a rougher voice than he had intended, "we
should talk first."
Grimmjow's gaze raked down the teen's back, landing on nicely fitted slacks. He
grinned. "Sounds good, Ichigo."
===============================================================================
"How much money do you have?" Ichigo asked as he sat at his desk, tapping the
end of his pen on a blank notepad, Grimmjow having taken his bed upon entering
his room. In hindsight they should have probably used the living room.
The blue-haired man stretched clasped hands over his head, letting out a happy
groan as he lay sprawled on his back, his black shirt riding up just enough to
show a glimpse of cut obliques. "Enough," he said, and when Ichigo raised one
eyebrow he added, "I've got my rent covered for a year, and money for food and
necessities."
Ichigo frowned. "How?"
Grimmjow sighed. "Aizen pays well. Not that any of us usually get the chance to
use the money. Probably why he does it, just takes it back when one of us gets
eaten."
Ichigo shifted in his seat. "Eaten?"
Grimmjow stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah, it's a tough life in Hueco Mundo,
even harder in Las Noches. We're just slaves, attack dogs for the shingami, and
everyone wants to kill each other. I can't say I miss it." He looked over at
the teen. "Well, other than the fighting."
Ichigo didn't respond.
"You like to fight too, don't you, Ichigo?"
The teen shifted back in his seat, hands on his thighs as he eyed the blue-
haired man suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Grimmjow laughed and rolled onto his side, looking like a very tired cat on
Ichigo's bed. A large and dangerous cat, who might jump up at any moment if the
need or urge arose. He smiled lazily, Ichigo's eyes being drawn to teal
tattoos, and the teen wondered idly if he still had the gothic six on his back.
"You're uptight, Ichigo."
Ichigo shrugged and turned his chair back towards the desk. "Yeah, and you're a
psychopath, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow didn't respond to that, and Ichigo chanced a glance over. The man's
eyes had taken on a hard glint, that made his breath want to hitch in his
throat. "You're a whiny bitch, Ichigo."
Ichigo's lips quirked to the side. "You're egotistical."
Grimmjow's eyes hardened further. "You're judgemental."
Ichigo stiffened in his seat. "You're an asshole."
The tall man pushed himself up into a sitting position, muscles tense as he sat
at the edge of the bed, looking ready to pounce. "Your hair is too fucking
bright."
Ichigo paused at that, he opened his mouth and then closed it, and his eyebrows
furrowed. He looked over. "You think so?"
The ex-hollow and the shinigami sat in silence. And then Grimmjow dropped back
onto the bed. "Nah, I like your hair," he admitted, and he grinned when Ichigo
let out a surprised laugh. The shinigami really didn't laugh much, he found.
He breathed in slowly and felt his muscles relax as he lay on the bed, finding
it much more comfortable than his own. He hadn't been able to sleep well the
night before, and he had ended up flipping through the channels, trying to pick
up what he could about his indefinite new lifestyle, and honestly it didn't
seem so bad.
He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. He needed to get back before he got too
comfortable, because it was only a matter of time before Ulquiorra or Nnoitra
came looking for him. His only consolation was that they probably wouldn't be
searching anywhere near Kurosaki's soul signature for him. He was his own
personal shinigami shield, now if only he'd let him touch him more. He stifled
a yawn. "Maybe I'll just take a nap," he said sleepily.
Ichigo opened his mouth to protest when the blue-haired man rolled onto his
stomach and wrapped his arms around Ichigo's pillow, his shirt pulling up and
the bottom of a black six peeking out from underneath. Ichigo eyed the tattoo
and then forced his gaze away and let out a resigned sigh, leaning over and
pulling out the math book from his bookbag on the floor and setting it on the
desk in front of him. He could wait a while he supposed.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you for the wonderful comments! :) enjoy!
Ichigo sat slouched in his seat, legs sprawled out in front of him and
partially hidden under the wooden desk that held a just closed math book. He
tapped a fast beat with the end of his pencil on the hardback cover as he kept
his gaze pointed firmly straight ahead, at the blank wall, because he
definitely wasn't interested in looking at anything else in the room. He
cleared his throat. How long was he going to sleep anyway, and why was he so
tired? He glanced down at his wristwatch: it had been almost two hours. He
should probably wake him up—he pushed himself more upright—but then, he would
have to interact with him again.
Lips pressed tightly together between white teeth, and Ichigo shifted back down
into his seat. The tapping sped up.
The sound of legs sliding themselves lazily against sheets stilled the
persistent pencil, only to be followed by a groan of contentment, the husky
noise seeming to play in Ichigo's head over and over, sending a shiver down his
spine and into his—Brown eyes widened before narrowing darkly, shooting over to
land accusingly on a still sleeping Grimmjow, and a huff of a growl rumbled in
his chest. "Oi! Wake up Jaegerjaquez!"
Grimmjow's nose slowly scrunched in a look of distaste, and then Ichigo watched
on, feeling somehow torn between irritation and confusion, as the tall ex-
Espada began to nestle the side of his face deeper into Ichigo's pillow.
Impressively sculpted arms flexing as they stubbornly tightened their grip
around it, and then he hummed, the sound low and pleased, pressing hips down
into the bed beneath him once before smiling. "Kurosaki..."
Ichigo blinked, his growled name searing into his mind in the blue-haired man's
husky voice. Was he dreaming about him?
"Fuck. Yeah that's nice."
Ichigo shoved himself up, and stalked over to his bed and glared down at the
muscular bed stealer, feeling the distinct urge to punch or kick the
infuriating smile away when the man's face suddenly relaxed, all tension
falling away, and then his lips parted to let out a soft breath.
Ichigo froze, and found himself doing what he had spent the past two hours
pointedly avoiding; he studied Grimmjow. The man lying on his bed, who'd been
an Espada, number six. He wore dark jeans with fading that accentuated his long
legs and they hung a little loose and low, black boxers just peeking out, his
black t-shirt pulled up revealing a tightly muscled tan back that led up into
broad shoulders and finally wild blue hair that appeared soft up close,
matching brows lifted almost giving the man's symmetrical features an angelic
look even with the sharp teal tattoos framing closed eyes. Ichigo leaned down
unconsciously to find long baby blue eyelashes resting almost on high
cheekbones. He looked almost vulnerable in an odd way. Ichigo frowned. Which
made sense, because he was.
Kisuke'd examined him, personally, and said he was turning more human by the
second and no longer had any use of his powers. Ichigo's frown deepened as he
looked for a telling outward sign of his growing humanity. He didn't look any
different, but it was hard to compare the Espada he had barely interacted with,
except to fight, with the man on his bed—maybe, younger?
Orange eyebrows pulled in. How old was Grimmjow anyway? And why would he choose
to become human, how was he planning to protect himself against the side he had
left, not to mention the Soul Reapers who had taken up temporary residence in
his town? Hell, they'd probably want to kill him still even if they did believe
he was completely human. Ichigo swallowed around a sudden lump that made him
shift uncomfortably. Because, if he was in fact becoming fully human, did he
deserve to be killed for doing before what was in his nature—
Ichigo shook his head at his own thoughts, a huff of a laugh escaping his lips.
Just because he was human didn't mean he was suddenly a good person. He was
obviously a huge asshole. Brown eyes shifted back down, but there were a lot of
assholes who weren't murderous. Did he think Grimmjow was dangerous? Kisuke
didn't seem to think so for some reason, or he wouldn't have asked Ichigo to
help him settle in... he didn't think.
Grimmjow grunted just then, pulling Ichigo from his musings. He leaned down,
his hand reaching out, pausing for a second before settling hesitantly on the
man's shoulder, and he gave it a shake. "Oi. Wake up." His response was a heavy
breath.
Ichigo's lips pressed in a tight line, and he shook harder. "Wake up,
Grimmjow," he said louder and then—a hand snapped up, grabbing his wrist and
jerking him down, and he suddenly found himself flat on his back and looking up
into wild blue eyes only inches from his own wide brown ones, his arms pinned
to the bed on either side of his face and body held down with the weight of the
man above him, and he blinked.
"What do you think you're doing?" Grimmjow snarled in a low tone between
clenched white teeth, the bridge of his nose wrinkled, blood pounding
annoyingly in his ears and making his muscles tense and flex angrily as he held
the shinigami down who had jerked him from his sleep. Blue eyes began to narrow
when his only response was wide brown eyes, unblinking. He tightened his grip,
shoving wrists further into warm sheets as his heart began to pound fiercely
against his ribs, reminding him of his predicament and fueling the fire in his
chest. "What the fuck were you doing, Kurosaki?" he demanded, his voice turning
more cold.
Ichigo blinked, his mind snapping back sharply at the sound of his name, and he
growled, trying to pull his arms loose from the vice-like grip on them. "I was
trying to wake you up, dumbass," he shouted, surging against the man's hold
again fruitlessly, "Now get off of me before I make you."
Grimmjow pulled back slightly at that, features relaxing from its homicidal
expression to a more neutral one as he thought, still holding the shinigami
down. He’d never been woken before... was that a thing? And then Ichigo cursed
at him and tried to pull loose again throwing his entire body into it, and
Grimmjow looked down between them, realizing their position.
"You stupid fuck," Ichigo snarled at the man holding him down with apparent
ease, and he started to jump from his body when electric blue eyes flicked back
up and pinned him inside with just a quiet glance. He swallowed hard when the
emotion in them slowly began shift to something that made him feel even less
comfortable than when he thought he was going to be strangled. He resisted
licking dry lips and forced through tightening airways, "Let me go, Grimmjow.
I'm not joking."
Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, a slow grin pulling back lips in a way
that almost resembled a snarl if not for hooded blue eyes giving it away.
"Actually, Ichigo. I kinda like where I am right now." He leaned his upper body
down closer, stopping when he could feel uneven puffs of warm air brushing his
lips before whispering to the no longer struggling shinigami, "And you don't
seem to mind too much either. What'd you say? I'll make it good for you."
Ichigo's heart leaped to a pounding gallop, and blood raced obediently
southward at the blue-haired man's request, betraying him, and he found his
lips wanting to push forward along with another body part—"No," he said
instead, cursing himself mentally when his voice sounded rough instead of flat.
"Now. Get. Off."
Grimmjow studied intense copper eyes for a long moment, and then he slowly drew
back, fingers releasing their prize reluctantly, and he sat back onto his heels
as he looked down at Ichigo - his chest rising and falling quickly, brown eyes
betraying his words as they remained locked with Grimmjow's calm blue ones. "My
mistake," he said coolly and then swung his leg over and climbed off the bed.
Ichigo pushed himself up into a sitting position, and gave himself a mental
shake, letting out a silent breath, collecting himself, as Grimmjow began to
snoop casually through the papers on his desk as if nothing had happened. He
stood up and scrubbed at wild orange locks, not letting his eyes study the man,
who had leaned over to rifle through his bag. He would help him and get out. No
big deal.
===============================================================================
Grimmjow ran long fingers through styled blue locks as he stepped out of the
Kurosaki household, the evening air chilled with a breeze that slid over
exposed tan skin and pressed his black t-shirt against his chest, and he felt a
buzz of excitement shoot through him, adding a bounce to his step. It was the
first cool night he had experienced in his more 'human' form. And it was oddly
invigorating, almost like he would feel right before a fight, because fighting
was one of the few ways he had been able to truly feel anything as an Espada.
That and sex.
"It's cold out here," Ichigo grumbled from behind as he followed the
surprisingly chipper ex-hollow down the sidewalk, not sure where they were even
going. Grimmjow had said he wanted to go around the town and ask questions as
he thought of them to fill his gaps of knowledge. Ichigo yawned widely as he
zipped up the black windbreaker his father had bought him as an early birthday
present, and then flipped up the collar, shoving hands deep into denim pockets.
He watched Grimmjow turn to look back, not slowing his step, his fitted shirt
pulling and stretching over tone back muscles and accentuating broad shoulders.
The blue-haired man shot a crooked grin at him that made Ichigo's stomach
aspire to be a gymnast, and he scowled in response. What was he so fucking
giddy about?
"Something bothering you, Ichigo?" Grimmjow asked, his tone more taunting than
playful, and the expression only widened when the shinigami behind him grunted
in lieu of an actual reply, brown eyes flicking back to the off white pavement
before him, and he felt his grin grow impossibly wider. He was no fool. He
could tell the shinigami wasn't pleased, but he was there willingly despite
everything, and the ex-Espada couldn't help but be even more upbeat by the fact
strangely enough. He scratched at his chest when an odd tingling sensation
began to fill it, pressing not uncomfortably, and blue eyebrows drew together,
his feet slowing. That was weird...
Ichigo scrubbed a hand roughly through spiky orange locks as he began to walk
beside the suddenly slower blue-haired man. "It's a little late to show you
around too much." He looked over when he received no response, and frowned. The
ex-hollow was slowing even further, lips slightly parted and gaze unfocused,
one of deep thought. He looked around at the people passing. "You okay?" he
asked for some reason.
Grimmjow blinked, his eyes snapping back into focus, and he sniffed, shoving
his hands into his pockets too but somehow looking more upbeat rather than
sullen like Ichigo. "Yeah, let's go to a bar first," he said and then held back
a smile when Ichigo sounded like he was trying to choke on his own spit.
"A bar? What the fuck for?" Ichigo demanded, sounding suspicious and too much
like the Soul Reaper Grimmjow had fought not to make the blue-haired man give
into a wide smile, deep blue eyes springing to life.
The orange-haired teen stopped, people bumping around him as he glared darkly
at Grimmjow. "I'm not going to a bar. You can forget it."
Grimmjow nodded in an understanding fashion, and he shifted closer to keep
people from walking between them. "Right, I forgot, you have school tomorrow,
don't you?" he said idly.
Ichigo pressed his lips together and growled when someone passing bumped him
forward and almost into the innocent-looking blue-haired man who definitely
wasn't innocent in the least. "That's not going to work," he said, taking a
step back, trying to sound bored even as his muscles tensed at the teasing
words.
Grimmjow pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders lifting
indifferently. "Good. Because I'm not trying to do anything." And then icy blue
eyebrows began to lift as orange ones pushed down, Grimmjow’s lips curling into
a wide grin. "Do you have a math test tomorrow, Ichigo?"
Copper eyes narrowed into slits. "I fucking hate you."
And Grimmjow let loose a laugh, the sound amused and wholly unaffected. "I can
see that," he said, gamely, and then he began to walk again at a casual pace,
gaze scanning the shops they passed, the shinigami following beside him with a
deep scowl as they neared an intersection. "So..." He paused, turning his head,
inclining it so he could look directly into furious golden-brown eyes before
saying in a low silky voice. "What about the ice cream shop, Ichigo, can you go
in there, or is that too risky too?"
Ichigo stopped, his eyes closing, as he fought the sudden urge to murder the
man standing beside him. He didn't care what he thought about him. He didn't.
His jaw clenched. But there was no way he was going to go have ice cream with
him. He sucked in a slow breath. "Fine. I'll go to the fucking bar. But I'm not
drinking."
Grimmjow shrugged at that. "That's fine, I don't need you drunk," he said
easily, and he began across the street, Ichigo still by his side. A breeze
picked up, ruffling through his hair and over his skin, filling his lungs, his
entire body feeling like a live current. And lips pushed up for no apparent
reason.
***** Chapter 9 *****
"You're going to drink all those?" Ichigo sat, arms crossed, at a table in the
far back corner inside a bar.
Music thumped insistently in the dimly lit space, a bartender having just
dropped off six drinks Grimmjow had evidently ordered. The ex-hollow had taken
Ichigo past his apartment, down another block and then had turned up a narrow
alley that ended at a red brick wall, a dingy metal door in its center, opening
to a bar he hadn't even known existed.
Not that Ichigo knew of a lot of bars, but it was much smaller than the few he
had been to, only a few wooden booths lined the back exposed brick wall, a bar
that could seat six took up another, and a dance floor made up the rest of the
space the only light coming from its floor in a deep blue hue. There were no
windows that he could find, and the crowd was made up of only people either
with piercings or tattoos, or both.
Grimmjow looked down at the collection of full glasses and then back up at the
clearly disturbed shinigami. He grinned widely, white teeth on full display.
"That's the plan, Ichigo."
Orange eyebrows lifted. "Do you like my name, Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow picked a tall glass filled with what looked like a lager, according to
his limited knowledge on alcohol that he'd gathered since arriving, and he took
a sip. He licked his lips clean of foam and said, "Yeah, I do. Do you like
mine?"
Ichigo rolled his eyes at that, letting out a heavy breath, ignoring intense
blue ones as they waited. "Just ask me a question."
Grimmjow leaned back, shifting hips forward and resting his free arm across the
wooden back that hit just below his shoulder blades, taking another sip as he
thought. "Okay. Why don't you dance?" Ichigo stared at the blue-haired man in
response, unamused, lips pressing together stubbornly. "I'm serious, I'm trying
to figure out people," he said, motioning at the crowded room and taking
another sip, the alcohol warming his chest pleasantly for the first time as he
looked into skeptical brown eyes. "I'm not an idiot, I can work out a lot of
this on my own," he said with an easy shrug, "but people-"
He cocked his head to the side, fingertips tapping the frosted mug before him,
as the shinigami began to frown but in a way that made him think he was
actually listening—and not just brushing him off like he had ever since he'd
found out who Grimmjow actually was. "Well, I don't really get them. I mean,
dancing looks pretty fun, so why don't you do it?"
Ichigo nodded slowly, leaning forward and sliding one of the glasses towards
himself that was filled with something that was hopefully soda. He took a
tentative sip, and pulled a look of distaste at the strong flavor of rum in it
but then took another drink anyway as he thought. He set the cup down, the
music around them mixing into a slower song with a heavy driving beat that
seemed to make the air around them grow thicker, and he looked up into waiting
piercing blue eyes that were trained intently on him. "Honestly?" he asked, a
little hesitantly, partially because he wasn't actually sure that he wasn't
messing with him but mostly because it was so strange to talk to the once-
Espada so casually.
And Grimmjow smiled slowly as he held Ichigo's gaze. "Yeah."
Ichigo nodded somewhat tensely and took another drink and then shot a glance
over his shoulder at the dance floor where people were moving rhythmically to
the music pressed up against each other before saying, "I've just never tried
it before."
Grimmjow watched the guy across from him take another drink, and he waited,
expressive brown eyes finally flicking up to meet his own studying ones. "Why
not?"
"I don't know," Ichigo said more easily, taking another sip and feeling the
tension in his muscles lessening somewhat. "I just haven't."
Grimmjow leaned forward, resting elbows on the wooden table that separated
them, he lifted his glass to shoot back the rest, and his mind filled with a
pleasant buzzing as he began to sip on his next drink, the shinigami across
from him doing the same, matching his pace. "What happened to not drinking?" he
asked casually.
Ichigo shrugged, taking another sip. "I changed my mind. People tend to do
that."
Grimmjow tilted his head to the side, biting on his tongue as he watched Ichigo
lick his lips, cleaning them of his drink only to replace them with his own
moisture, and Grimmjow shifted his hips as his body responded. "Good to know,"
he said and then in the same breath, "why don't you have a boyfriend?"
Ichigo choked on his drink, and he coughed into his fist as his lungs tried to
expel burning liquid from it forcefully. He blinked away tears and cleared his
throat. "What? Why do you wanna know that?"
Grimmjow shrugged, taking another sip. "I'm a curious person."
Orange eyebrows furrowed, and Ichigo shot the man a wary look, and then he
sighed. "I don't really have time for that type of thing."
"So you don't dance... and you don't date," Grimmjow said slowly. "How do you
have fun?" He watched Ichigo sit up more straight and push the glass he had
almost finished away from him.
"I don't," Ichigo said, feeling angry for some reason at the question and even
more at his answer, and he looked up, his tone growing harsh and more than a
little accusatory. "It's not like I have shit loads of free time, I'm too busy
trying to keep people safe from soul-sucking monsters."
Grimmjow lifted his glass and took a slow drink, a feeling growing in his chest
that felt like it was swirling violently and pressing as his muscles tensed
along with the conflicting odd twinge again that made him want to grimace.
"Fuck you."
"No. Fuck you."
Grimmjow's jaw clenched, and he leaned forward, saying between gritted teeth,
"You think that's the life I wanted? Do you think I wanted to wake up in that
shit hole, all alone, constantly fighting just not to be consumed, to have to
always worry about losing myself completely?" He snarled. "I did what I had to
do, and I'd do it all over again, because if I didn't, someone else would."
Ichigo watched as the man slowly leaned back, his expression shifting from
fierce to closed off as he picked his glass back up and took a few swigs. "You
enjoyed it though, didn't you?"
Hardened blue eyes met his gaze. "You'd be surprised what's enjoyable in a
place like that."
Ichigo wet his lips, his heart having picked up suddenly under the intense
gaze, and his hand found his drink again. He took a sip. "Try me," he said
coolly.
And the man's lips slowly turned up, blue eyebrows lifting. "Anything that
makes you feel."
Ichigo swallowed hard. "And killing... it did that for you?"
Grimmjow ran his tongue over his teeth, and he nodded slightly. "Yeah,
sometimes, but it didn't last long." He paused then, considering his next
words. There was no point in lying, Ichigo had seen him at his worst; the
shinigami had made him come undone more than anyone had ever. "Fighting lasted
longer, when I could find a worthy opponent." Copper eyes flashed at the
statement, and then he added in a low voice, "And sex, of course. But you know
that."
Ichigo felt blood begin to whoosh in his ears, and he forced himself to take
another drink of the cool liquid, not even sure what he was drinking anymore,
conflicting feelings rushing through his body and making it hard to think. "So
you don't feel bad at all? About what you did?"
Grimmjow leaned back, wondering if that was what the twinge was.
Guilt.
Humans definitely felt a much wider range of emotions than hollows, and he
seemed to be experiencing them more and more as he remained trapped in the
gigai. Although, would it even be considered that once he was completely human?
He let out a silent breath, gaze scanning the lit floor and, a lean sandy blond
dancing against a muscular dark-haired man caught his gaze and winked at him,
motioning him with a finger towards the floor. He grinned back gamely but
didn't move. "I did what needed to be done, there were much worse than me,
believe me." He looked back at the shinigami. "I'm not a saint, Ichigo, are
you?"
Ichigo glanced down into his drink. He thought about the rush he got from
fighting, how sometimes he wished he couldn't see spirits at all and just had a
normal life, and he thought about his hollow side that he couldn't control no
matter how hard he tried—and most of all—how despite his protests he still
wanted the ex-Espada sitting across from him more than he had wanted anyone,
even knowing what all he had done. "No, not even close," he said quietly, and
missed the curling grin his words inspired.
"I didn't think so... So, you wanna dance?"
Ichigo blinked rapidly, trying to find the part of his brain that didn't want
to dance with the tall blue-haired man but came up empty. "Probably shouldn't,"
he muttered, and then Grimmjow slid to the edge, pushing up from the bench. The
tall man stopped by Ichigo's seat, his tone body on full display, and he
offered out a hand.
"Come on. Live a little Ichigo, before it's too late."
Ichigo lowered his glass, it hitting the table a little harder than he'd
intended. The clinking noise getting swallowed up in the music, he looked up
into sharp blue eyes that felt like they wanted to cut into him and consume him
from the inside out. He cleared his throat and reached out a hand. "Yeah okay.
Fuck it."
===============================================================================
 
"Grimm-jow. Gri-im-jow, y'know, that's a fucked up name." What could almost
qualify as giggles followed the statement.
Grimmjow grinned as he walked, Ichigo's arm wrapped heavily around his
shoulders, his own arm secure around the shinigami's slim waist as he helped
him down the sidewalk away from the bar numerous dances and several drinks
later. Ichigo was unsurprisingly a very good dancer, and he didn't seem to mind
Grimmjow's hands or body against his when they were on the dance floor.
"Where did you get that name anyway? Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow laughed. "Who named you, Ichigo?"
"My parents," Ichigo said as if it were obvious, and then his expression
muddied when blue eyebrows lifted unsurprised. "You had parents?"
Grimmjow laughed again, stopping in front of his apartment building door, and
Ichigo wrapped his other arm up around his shoulder and rested his front
against him, swaying slightly. "Everyone has parents."
"I know," Ichigo murmured against the taller man's neck, uncaring how good it
felt to lean up against the solid-framed man as alcohol pumped liberally
through his veins. It didn't mean anything. "I just meant, how'd you reme-
remember?" He hummed when he received no response and then breathed in deeply.
"You smell good, Grimmjow." He really did like his name.
"Yeah?" Grimmjow asked in a suddenly rough voice as lips nestled against his
throat, and he ran a hand up into wild hair, fingers lacing into orange locks,
and he pulled, tilting slightly parted lips up and away from his neck, holding
them just inches from his mouth. "You shouldn't say things like that to me...”
he said, slowly, as blue eyes began to recede to growing black pupils.
Ichigo licked his lips, darkening blue eyes shooting down to watch the movement
closely. "Why not?" he asked, his deep voice lowering even further, his breath
trying to catch in his chest with each inhale, and he leaned up closer.
"What're you going to do about it?"
Grimmjow growled, the noise rumbling in his chest as lips loitered just shy of
his mouth, taunting him. And he pulled him forward, crashing his lips to his
own roughly.
===============================================================================
 
"Fuck." Ichigo gasped as he was shoved up roughly against a familiar front
door, his hands grasping at soft black material he wanted to pull off as lips
moved just under his chin in a way that made his eyelids dip and knees feel
like putty even with his legs wrapped around perfect hips, because
Grimmjow—teeth bit down on his neck, and he groaned unintelligible words.
"You like that, Ichigo?" Grimmjow husked, ignoring the pounding in his chest or
the blood whooshing through his veins as he pulled the nodding shinigami off
the front door to his apartment to take the few steps to his couch, and he fell
over the armrest with him, landing on top.
"Fuck, you're heavy," Ichigo growled and then, "oh—oh shit," as hands began to
slide roughly up his sides under his shirt, cool fingers setting his skin on
fire from more than just the friction. And he pulled the man into a kiss,
wanting him closer, Grimmjow biting his lower lip hard and his mouth opened
immediately in a curse, and then he groaned as their tongues met.
Grimmjow's eyes forced themselves shut as Ichigo's tongue began to move against
his but slower than he was used to, hands sliding up into his hair, the
sentiment behind it different somehow and making his pulse speed up and hands
soften in their touch in response.
Ichigo pulled away. "Let me—let me get this—" He pushed Grimmjow back to sit up
and pulled his shirt up and over his head in one movement, dropping it on the
floor. He reached out to grab the the tall man's shirt to do the same when he
met oddly unsure deep blue eyes, and he froze, his breaths coming and going
quickly. "What's wrong?"
Grimmjow shook his head, the pounding in his chest a little funny, and he
didn't know why. He focused on the tone body in front of him. He was going to
get what he wanted, nothing else mattered. "Nothing," he grunted and pushed
away hands to pull his own shirt off before leaning back down, and he avoided
lips when they tried to meet his again, nudging Ichigo's chin up with a thumb
and holding it there firmly to place kisses down his exposed neck instead.
Tasting him, and when hips arched up, pressing up against him, he bit down.
"Grimmjow," Ichigo gasped, grabbing hips that hovered only inches above his and
pressed up again, when fingernails began to scrape down his stomach.
"Bed—your—your bed. Fuck. Come on."
Grimmjow laughed against heated skin, running his tongue widely from the base
of the shinigami's neck up to his ear, reveling in the sharp gasp that filled
the room. "You want it, Ich?" he whispered.
And Ichigo nodded adamantly, chest heaving, his thoughts a floating mess as his
vision began to spin from the jerky movement. He groaned and clenched his eyes
shut to stop the spinning, and fingers dipped just under his pants and found
skin that was a thousand times more sensitive. "Ah-hh. Yeah. Yeah. Come on."
Grimmjow pushed himself up and off the couch, the shinigami's glazed eyes
watching his movement as he remained spread out, unmoving. "You've gotta get up
too."
Ichigo moved to sit up and then groaned, only making it halfway before dropping
back, everything spinning again. "Fuck, I don't know if I can. Maybe I..." He
drifted off and then moaned, the sound frustrated and confused, as he rubbed at
his face. "Fuck, m'so fuckin' dizzy."
And Grimmjow felt the twinge in his chest again, more sharply, as he looked
down at a half-dressed and very drunk Ichigo. He clenched his jaw and shoved
the unwanted feeling far away and leaned over.
"I'll help you," he growled and pulled the nodding shinigami up, hoisting his
upper body over his right shoulder, the teen’s head and arms hanging over his
back as he stood back up. He held him steady with an arm wrapped around the
backs of his legs, and he began down the hallway and towards his room.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy weekend!! Haha :)
Ichigo's lungs released their contents in an 'oomph' when his back hit
mattress. He groaned and slid himself further up with his feet along cool silky
sheets not even attempting to sit up as he watched a moonlit Grimmjow begin to
undo his pants. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of some feeling
rushing in his chest and a thought banging insistently at his numb brain as
dark denim dropped, and the ex-hollow moved silently to the edge of the bed in
only a pair of black boxers, blue eyes blazing like burning ice, tan skin
flawless over sculpted muscles. "Fuck you're hot."
Gleaming white teeth slowly revealed themselves as lips curled up, and Grimmjow
leaned over, hands tugging on the shinigami's pants legs. "These need to go,"
he said in a low voice.
Ichigo nodded his agreement as waiting fingers began to trace along sensitive
skin on the insides of his ankles, the touch deceptively gentle, and making his
own fingers fumble with his buttons and then zipper. He lifted his hips to push
them down when hands grabbed hold of his pants legs and tugged hard, pulling
them down and off for him, and then the bed was dipping on either side as
Grimmjow began to crawl up, and the knocking on his brain grew louder, making
his head hurt and eyes clenched shut as the contents of his stomach sloshed
with the bed's movement. Shit. Shit. Shi—
"Kurosaki..."
Brown eyes popped open, heat running up his chest uncomfortably, and he
swallowed hard as his throat felt like it was trying to close up on him, having
clearly caught on to his stomach's plans. "What?"
Grimmjow held himself on his hands and knees as he looked down at the
shinigami, his tongue played at the corner of his mouth as he eyed Ichigo,
something was off. "What's... wrong with you?" he asked, his tone sounding more
suspicious than concerned.
Ichigo swallowed and then immediately wished he hadn't, grimacing as his
stomach protested at any newcomers viciously. He let out a careful breath,
refusing to shake his head, trying to keep still and willing his stomach to
settle. Maybe it would pass. "Nothing."
Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, his lip twitching up on the right side in an
irritated fashion, because the shinigami wasn't looking at him even though he
was, his eyes were unfocused and his breathing was stunted, cheeks growing more
pale by the second, looking like he had been stabbed one too many times. "Why
do you look like that?"
And Ichigo started to laugh, but the sound cut off almost immediately with a
groan when his entire body protested from the shaking, and his hand shot up to
his damp forehead. Shit. How much had he drank? Three? Four maybe? No. No he
could remember five at least and then there had been shots, but that shouldn't
have—His stomach roiled suddenly at the unwelcome memory, trying to make a
violent escape from his body, and he clamped his mouth shut, turning to his
side and away from the man above him.
Grimmjow leaned back on his knees and frowned. "What the fuck is—"
Ichigo shoved himself up and took off for the open door that led to his
bathroom like he was running for his life and then a loud clang came from the
room only to be followed immediately by disturbing sounds that pushed Grimmjow
from his bed and towards the unlit bathroom. He approached slowly, his eyebrows
furrowing when he flipped on the light to find the shinigami sitting on the
floor, groaning with eyes closed, lying on an arm that was resting on his
toilet.
"Fuck," Ichigo moaned, face flushed, his head still spinning even with his eyes
closed, bright light attacking his eyelids and making his head want to implode.
"Turn that shit off."
Grimmjow stood, feeling oddly uncertain, and then he slowly lifted his arm out
to the side—and flicked the light back off with just his index, not overly
pleased.
"Thanks," was whispered. Ichigo scooted back from the toilet and then lowered
down onto the floor carefully, letting out a relieved breath as its coolness
seeped through his skin and calmed his stomach, and he realized the ex-Espada
was still there when he heard a heavy breath. "I got sick," he said, voice
rough. He heard feet shift closer and then something large slide down the wall
in front of him.
"Why?"
Ichigo swallowed, his breaths coming short between dry lips. He wanted to open
his eyes and see if his ears were playing tricks on him, because it sounded
like Grimmjow was sitting on the floor with him but that couldn't be right.
"Drank too much," he forced out.
Grimmjow studied Ichigo as he lay less than a foot in front of him on his side,
half curled in on himself, and he wasn't sure what he thought about it. No.
That was a lie. He was pissed off. He couldn't fuck the shinigami if he was
sick... at least... he didn't think so. He nudged Ichigo's bare shoulder with
his foot. "Are you better now?"
Ichigo huffed a laugh and then grunted when it made his stomach lurch
painfully, turning his face towards the floor to rest his left temple on
blissfully cold tile. "No I'm not fucking better. Do I look better?"
"No, you look like shit."
Ichigo laughed again only to regret it immediately and then flicked the nearby
foot blindly. "Fuck you."
Grimmjow pulled his foot back and glared at the useless shinigami. He would
beat the shit out of him if it wouldn't be so easy. Fucking drank too much. He
shook his head in disgust. His whole night was ruined now with Ichigo lying on
his floor, looking like he was about to die right there.
And then—icy blue eyebrows began to push in and downward when the flippant
thought stuck, and Grimmjow listened to short uneven breaths, and he felt a
sudden itching inside his chest. He scratched at it, irritated. The shinigami
wouldn't die from drinking too much. Was that a thing? "Ichigo," he grunted,
but received no response, the shinigami looking suddenly too relaxed, limp.
He leaned forward, shifting half his weight from his knees to his hands and
lowered his head to study the sick Ichigo more closely. "Ichigo," he said
again, louder, but brown eyes remained shut and unresponsive. He reached out a
hand and tapped the shinigami's cold cheek a little too hard for it not to
qualify as a smack. Nothing. Grimmjow growled. "Fuck."
===============================================================================
Grimmjow glared down at the orange-haired teen, who he had carried out of his
bathroom bridal style and placed on his bed. He would have just left him there,
but the floor was fucking cold, and he didn't know if that was a good thing for
the unresponsive shinigami or not. He pulled his shirt over his head with a
growl, pants hanging around his waist but still undone in his hurry. He turned
and stomped into his shoes as he made his way for the doorway, fastening his
pants and shooting a quick look over his shoulder before stalking out and down
the hallway, pulling open the front door and slamming it behind him as he
cursed under his breath.
===============================================================================
“Coming," was said in a carefree sing-songy voice for the third time that made
blue eyes narrow into slits and long fingers to ball into fists, and Grimmjow
banged on the wooden door harder as he stood outside Urahara's still-lit shop
at fuck-knows-when. "I'll be right there," was called out in a not rushed
voice, the words sounding no closer.
"Fucking bastard," he growled and then lifted his fist to beat again on the
annoyingly sturdy door when it was swung in, opening, and he was met with
shaded grey eyes from under a striped hat.
"Why Grimmjow," the shopkeeper said, looking throughly surprised as he stood
fully dressed in the middle of the night, "what brings you here?" He took a
small step back and waved him in politely.
Grimmjow snarled at him and pushed inside the empty shop. He wasn't sure what
to say now that he was there. He had heard Ichigo call the shopkeeper when he
had first been in the Kurosaki household, and it seemed he had an interest in
the orange-haired shinigami's well-being, but to what degree and why, he didn't
know—
"Is something wrong?"
Grimmjow turned around slowly to face the man who had gotten him stuck in the
gigai he was wearing, and he clenched his teeth together. "You mean other than
the obvious?" he asked quietly, tone furious.
The shopkeeper let loose a laugh, and Grimmjow's eyes widened with a look of
seething rage as he reminded himself over and over he didn't have his powers,
and he tried to relax tensed muscles but was failing miserably. "You've
developed a sense of humor. That's wonderful," the man said, smiling, his
expression bordering on pleased.
Grimmjow felt his body begin to shake, his upper lip twitching sporadically to
display sharp canines.
"Need to work on your anger issues though, I see," the man said with a sniff
and when Grimmjow took a step forward his cane shot up, its end suddenly
pressing against the ex-Espada's chest. "Ah. Ah. Ah. That wasn't a suggestion,"
he said more slowly, "Calm down, Jaegerjaquez, and tell me what you need."
And Grimmjow glared darkly at the shopkeeper but forced himself back a step and
then another, his movement stiff. He would kill him if—no—when he got his
powers back. Grey eyes blinked at him, annoyingly patient. He breathed in
through his nose, air forcing the muscles around his ribcage to expand and
loosen a little, and he was able to say between gritted teeth, "I have... a
question."
"Do you...?" Kisuke tilted his head to the side, hands clasped over his walking
stick.
Teal tattoos wrinkled around glaring eyes. "Yes," he spat, and then he
remembered fully why he had came there to begin with, and he scratched at his
itching chest roughly when it started to act up again. "Can you kill someone
with alcohol?"
Grey eyes widened for a split-second but then quickly returned to their normal
size. And the shopkeeper shifted his stick to just one hand as he sucked on his
teeth before nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose you could... but it would
take a lot to do so. And the person would probably get sick and pass out well
before you could manage it..."
Grimmjow blinked, the last sentence perking his interest. "Pass out?"
The shopkeeper nodded. "Yes. They'll fall asleep and can't really wake up for a
while," he said and then added almost as an after thought, "planning on
murdering someone, Grimmjow?" He rubbed at his rough chin, lips quirking to the
side, when he received no response beyond an icy glare. "I have to admit, I
just can't picture you poisoning someone to do it, you seem too physical for
that type of thing."
The blue-haired man sneered. "I think you're probably right, thanks for the
advice." He began to walk past when the shopkeeper's walking stick shot up to
the side and in front of him.
"Here," the man said, his tone suddenly more genuine, holding out a small
unmarked brown packet. "Pour it in hot water to drink, it helps with
hangovers." Grimmjow stared down at the offered item for a long moment, not
asking the question on his mind and feeling infuriatingly stupid. "When you
drink too much and get sick," was offered as if on cue, and the blue-haired man
grabbed it, muttering an angry thanks as he made his way for the door, not
responding to the man's request for him to stop by again soon for research
purposes, of course.
He yanked the door open and stalked out into the dark.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     I love your guys’s comments, they always make me smile. ^_^ A thank
     you for taking the time...
Light began to make its way insistently through closed eyelids, and lips pulled
over and up into a grimace.
Too bright.
Ichigo groaned, and he rolled from his side onto his stomach, cool sheets
meeting his bare torso and legs as he buried his face into a pillow that wasn't
his. He groaned into it, the sound muffled but not enough to hide the buckets
of regret he felt as his head began to pulse angrily from the movement. He felt
like shit, and he didn't know why.
A mixture of memories surged forward eagerly, knocking on the teen's throbbing
head. He had taken Grimmjow out, and they had ended up in a bar, and they had
gotten shit-faced together. Well... Ichigo had, now that the sober shinigami
thought about it, Grimmjow hadn't seemed nearly as drunk as he'd been. Dancing
and touching and kissing blurred together in his mind as he realized what all
he'd done.
He pressed his face deeper into the down pillow, wishing it would suffocate
him.
Of course. Of course, he would get drunk and then become a fucking male floozy
around the tall blue-haired man. He half laughed and half groaned into the
pillow, his face growing hotter and the recycled air growing thicker. Because
he hadn't even had sex with him after all that. No, the last thing he could
remember was lying on the ex-Espada's bathroom floor with the taste of vomit
torturing his taste buds with a sadistic glee. Ichigo frowned. He wasn't on the
floor now though...
He pushed himself up onto his forearms with some effort, looking around the
room he was in with squinted eyes in confusion. He was in a bedroom, Grimmjow's
bedroom, lying on black sheets that covered a king-size mattress he had been
dropped onto before his mad sprint to the toilet to expel all the contents from
his stomach.
He dipped his head and rubbed at his temples.
Had he gotten up and crawled back into the bed at some point in the middle of
the night? He swallowed thickly, his throat too dry and lips chapped, and his
stomach protested as he continued to look around, eyeing a darkly-stained
matching long dresser and nightstand one on side that faced an open door and
then on the other four large windows, floor length black curtains on either
side not pulled but blinds closed, and a sigh fell from his lips as he let his
chin dip further almost to his chest. He was alone...
"Ah. You're awake."
Ichigo let out a startled noise and jerked his head towards the voice, his eyes
clenching shut before they could find purchase as his vision swam at the too
quick movement. "Shit," he whispered as his mind swam behind his eyes. He was
still a little drunk. Why had he drank so much? His stomach turned violently in
protest at the unwanted reminder, and he pressed his lips together tightly
taking in a slow breath, and he let his face drop back onto the pillow beneath
him, enjoying the coolness seeping into his neck and the side of his face.
Laughter came from the doorway, the sound low and throaty and making Ichigo
suddenly unnecessarily aware of his morning problem pressing into Grimmjow's
bed sheets despite how terrible he felt. "Shut the fuck up," he grumbled,
willing his body to calm down. He didn't want Grimmjow. He was just confused.
The sound of bare foot moving across hard floor found Ichigo's ears, and he
forced curious eyes to stay shut.
"Nah, I don't think I will. Getting up anytime soon, Sunshine?"
Brown eyes opened, and Ichigo looked up at the towering blue-haired man out of
the corner of his vision as he lay pathetically with his cheek smashed into the
pillow beneath him. He was grinning down at him with an expression that did
nothing to help the body part he was lying on top of. "Fuck off. I'm sick."
Grimmjow arched an icy blue eyebrow and crossed bare muscular arms over an
equally exposed chest as he stood in only a pair of low slung, charcoal grey
sweatpants, looking torn between a few emotions, none of which made Ichigo feel
any better, before finally responding in a low voice. "You need to watch
yourself, that's my bed and this is my house."
Ichigo let tired eyes fall back shut as he lifted the arm closest to the bed
supplier into the air and showed him a certain finger in response.
He received a low chuckle, and then suddenly the bed dipped beside him right
before a leg swung over his hips, landing on the other side, straddling him,
hands wrapping around his forearms at the same time, pushing them down into
black sheets. Ichigo growled. "Get the fuck off me, asshole."
Hands tightened their grip. "Now, now, Ichigo, is that anyway to talk to me
after I took care of you last night?"
Ichigo pulled at his arms and growled again, lifting his face from the pillow
and ignoring his stomach and head. "Took care of me?" he scoffed as he
continued to struggle despite his sluggish muscles not cooperating. "How by
getting me drunk and taking advantage of me?"
Grimmjow laughed, the sound highly amused but then it was cut off sharply at
the end. "You drank, I didn't force you," he said. And then he cocked his head
to the side, tongue darting out to wet lips, when the shinigami had stilled at
that beneath him, the only sign he was still awake his short breaths.
Grimmjow's grip relaxed as he added in a slower voice, "And I sure as hell
didn't take advantage of you."
He knew that for a fact, because he'd been very dissatisfied, but for some
reason he hadn't been his usual pushy self with the shinigami despite how
obviously willing he had been in the bar, on the way back and all the way up
until he had gotten sick. He'd hesitated.
A snarl pulled at Grimmjow's lips, his chest acting up on him again, and he
ignored it as he leaned down to hover his mouth over olive skin just below wild
orange locks. "Maybe I should have though," he said, lowly, and when a sharp
inhalation was his only reply he lowered his hips and made contact with
Ichigo's boxer-clad backside, biting down on his entire lower lip when he
brushed against it a second time. The shinigami groaned at the touch. He rolled
his hips, pressing down against him again as his hands slid up over smooth skin
to settle around Ichigo's wrists. "You like that?"
Ichigo felt his head nod traitorously when he was pressed firmly into the bed
beneath him again as hips rocked against him, Grimmjow's heavy body feeling too
good on top of his for him to care about his hangover at that moment, or
anything for that matter. "Fuck," he huffed. "I'm so fucking horny." And then
lips were at his ear, warm puffs of air grazing the sensitive skin and making
his blood race.
"Still sick, Ichigo?" was asked in a teasing, low voice and punctuated with
another roll of hips and then pressure that made copper eyes want to roll back.
Ichigo nodded slightly. "Yeah," he said around increasingly uneven breaths, and
then grunted when hips didn't lift again but began to rock against his backside
in a rhythmic fashion.
"Y'want me to stop?" was asked and then teeth began to nibble at Ichigo's ear
before a tongue trailed up it, eliciting another moan from him, and the
shinigami spread his legs further apart in response.
Grimmjow grinned and angled his hips up, stomach muscles flexing as he worked
to grind himself through the material separating them, and he moved his tongue
to the shinigami's neck, encouraging groans speeding his hips and spurring the
whispered words, "You don't seem sick to me."
Ichigo sucked in a sharp breath when teeth bit down on his neck just above his
collarbone hard, and his breathing grew more ragged. "I. I am," he said, his
stomach protesting to the movement as if on cue. "Oh shit. Hold—hold on."
Grimmjow's body lifted at that, Ichigo regretting his words for only a split-
second before he was flipped onto his back in one movement, and his stomach
lurched up into his chest. He slapped a hand over his mouth and barely noticed
the fingers curling under his boxers before they were sliding down—and off.
And then fingers wrapped around him one-by-one, and his stomach was forgotten
almost completely when they began to slide over him in a single effort, and
Ichigo's eyes shot open with a gasp, the shinigami not sure when they had even
closed.
Grimmjow met Ichigo's gaze intensely, resting on his knees, broad shoulders
hunched forward slightly as he stroked him with a shit-eating grin, looking far
too pleased with himself. Ichigo considered pushing him off or hitting him or
jumping from his body to do much worse for touching him without asking but then
he watched as the blue-haired man dropped his chin—and a line of spit trailed
from his lips to hit—
"Oh fuck me," Ichigo groaned, hips jerking up of their own accord, as the now
wet hand around him began to slide more easily despite the tightening grip.
"Fuck me," he said again, his words less of an exclamation and more of a
demand.
Deep blue eyes turned up to meet heavily-lidded brown ones.
"Oh I will, Ichigo," Grimmjow said lowly with a grin, the tips of white teeth
showing. "But not until you can enjoy it without throwing up all over my bed."
Ichigo let out a surprised laugh, but it quickly turned into a low whining
noise when Grimmjow leaned down, and a puff of air brushed over his wet tip,
feeling cold and full of promises.
And then a strong wide tongue ran slowly all the way from his base to the tip,
and Ichigo gasped the blue-haired man's name, his hips lifting off the mattress
with the movement to try and follow receding lips, and hands grabbed tightly
onto wide shoulders as if he might float away if he didn't hold on.
Intense blue eyes flicked up as Grimmjow hovered just over him, and he asked in
a goading voice, "Does that feel good, Ichigo?" and when wide eyes narrowed
angrily, he took the tip of the shinigami into his mouth and sucked lightly.
"Oh-h," Ichigo groaned, feeling like his entire body shuddered in ecstasy,
heavy eyelids forcing eyes shut as his chest rose and fell raggedly like he was
losing a fight. He nodded jerkily when the mouth stopped, as if it were waiting
for something, and he forced out the truthful words, "Yeah, so—so fucking
good."
The mouth wrapped around him turned up at that, and then it began to move in
earnest, sliding down over him, and Ichigo found his fingers tangling
themselves into maddening blue hair as a tongue pressed against him firmly with
each lift, and he began to feel a tightening down low. Shit.
"Grimmj-ohh." He tugged warningly on thick blue locks as air was forced jerkily
in and out of his lungs, the organ clearly forgetting how to function properly.
"I'm. I'm-" A strong hand settled on his lower stomach pushing his lower body
back down firmly onto warmed sheets, holding it there as lips continued to
slide over him but faster, and Ichigo tried one last time to tug the mouth away
before he groaned out a 'fuck' on repeat to match with each pulse inside
Grimmjow's mouth.
Ichigo dropped his head back and let out a sigh, his breaths beginning to slow
along with the thumping in his chest. "Sorry," he muttered between relaxed
lips.
"What for?" The voice came unexpectedly from almost directly above Ichigo.
The shinigami opened his eyes back to find Grimmjow looking down at him in a
way that made him feel like the no longer Espada could still actually eat his
soul if he wanted. "For—" He licked dry lips. "You know."
Grimmjow grinned widely, white teeth gleaming and his hair sticking up even
more after Ichigo's fingers had been in it but somehow looking even better for
it. "I don't mind. You taste good, Ichigo," he said, lifting his right hand and
dragging the tips of his fingers along his own lower stomach, tracing the skin
just above his grey sweats, black pupils growing and taking over blue irises as
he stared down at a flushed Ichigo. "It's too bad you're sick, or you could
return the favor." He grasped onto the tie of his pants, undoing it with a
sharp tug.
And Ichigo nodded slowly as pants slid down in front of him and revealed
Grimmjow's neglected and impressive body part. Fuck. "I taste good?" he asked
distractedly, voice tight, as he watched in growing fascination as tan fingers
wrapped around similarly hued skin, not wasting time in speeding up.
Grimmjow nodded, lips parted, pupils growing impossibly larger as he looked
down at the orange-haired shinigami beneath him, and his hips jerked forward as
he grew more excited. "Yeah, like a fuckin' lollipop," he said and then with
barely a breath to separate his two thoughts he said, "I'm gonna come all over
you, Ichigo."
Expressive brown eyes widened, the surprised look behind them making Grimmjow
growl. "Fuck, you're so innocent, makes me want to fuck you into the floor."
Ichigo's breath caught in his throat, and Grimmjow's chin dipped forward in
response as he finished all over the toned body beneath him with a few choice
words.
Ichigo stared up with still wide eyes—the moment feeling oddly surreal—the
blue-haired man not smiling or snarling, lips relaxed and blue eyes unguarded
as shoulders lifted back and rose subtly along with his breathing, tan skin
with a slight sheen to it, and his own neck and chest wet in certain spots, the
feeling spreading slowly; and brown eyes flitted shut as he realized what he
had just done.
The bed creaked, shifting and then lifting around him, and he was alone a
second later, sounds from the bathroom not quite reaching his attention, and
his stomach issues seemed to come back full force, punishing him, as his hands
came up to cover his face. What had he been thinking?
"Here," was grunted right before a towel hit Ichigo, landing on him. "And I got
you something."
Ichigo frowned, all musings stopped, as he lifted the towel off his face to see
the tall ex-Espada walking lazily over to the long dresser in his room to grab
out a black fitted t-shirt and pull it over his head, tugging it down to
conceal the large gothic six on his back. Ichigo wiped at his skin idly,
cleaning the sticky reminder off of him as orange brows furrowed. He had gotten
him something? "You... what?" he asked, thinking he had misheard completely.
Grimmjow shot a look over his shoulder, blue eyes unimpressed and once more
reserved. "It's in the kitchen," he said and then walked out without any
further explanation.
Ichigo rubbed a hand through his hair as he sat up and sighed when he spotted
his clothes still lying on the dark hardwood floor below. He glanced down at
himself before climbing off the bed gingerly, his head protesting with a
sickening thump as he leaned over to pull on boxers and then jeans. "What the
hell am I doing here?" he mumbled to himself, scanning the floor for his shirt
but not finding it, and then he remembered pulling it off in the living room
the night before when they had been on the couch. He had been drunk out of his
mind sure, but—large chocolate eyes shifted to the large messed bed, memories
of what had just happened between him and the only very recently non-Espada
still bright and crystal clear for his perusal—he couldn't really use that
excuse now.
He let out a pained breath and made his way for the door shirtless, mind
buzzing uncomfortably. He just needed to get his stuff and go.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Your guys’s comments always leave me with a huge fucking grin. Thank
     you for that :)
Ichigo stepped out of Grimmjow's bedroom and into the hallway. He began to make
his way quietly down the narrow path of expensive hardwood flooring, the smooth
bamboo planks cool on his bare feet. The shinigami did his best to ignore his
still unsteady stomach and sick-feeling head as they both protested to his
movement. He'd take something for it when he got home. Home. Shit. He hadn't
called his dad to tell him he'd be out all night, and on a school night
too—right—he was missing school too. Great.
A heavy clink drew Ichigo from his musings and to the open kitchen on his left
where the blue-haired man stood, his back facing Ichigo and blocking whatever
he was doing with his tall frame. The shinigami spotted his shirt and jacket on
the floor in front of the couch, and he quietly made his way over, leaning over
and picking them up quickly, refusing to replay how they had gotten there. He
pulled the shirt over his head, and there was a snort.
Ichigo turned around slowly, scowling, and chocolate eyes narrowed as he still
held his jacket by his side, his gaze settling on an annoyingly quiet Grimmjow,
who was now facing him. He didn't know why, but his silence seemed to bother
him even more than his talking. "Something funny?" he asked brusquely, his low
voice coming out even lower.
The blue-haired man cocked his head to the side, teal tattooing smooth, cobalt
eyes relaxed but still somehow piercing in their gaze. "You in a hurry,
Ichigo?"
Ichigo's grip tightened around the material in his hand, fingers doing their
best to throttle the collar of his jacket. "Yeah, you got a problem with that,
Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow smiled slowly, lips pulling up on the right side and exposing white
teeth, the expression making the hair stand up on the back of Ichigo's neck,
because it felt intimate, and not in an unpleasant way. "Nah," he said, and
then turned away once more from the shinigami, only to turn back a moment later
and place a plain, black ceramic mug on a tall thin counter whose sole purpose
up until that point appeared only to be to separate Grimmjow and Ichigo.
He shot the watching shinigami a pointed look and then made his way casually
into the living room and dropped down onto the couch.
Ichigo frowned, refusing to look over as he saw the ex-Espada in the corner of
his vision pick up a magazine from the table beside him and open it. He eyed
the mug warily and walked over to peer down into it. He leaned down some and
breathed in the curling steam. Tea. The shinigami hesitated. He'd made him tea?
"It's not poison, unless Kisuke has it out for you."
Ichigo turned at that, his expression wide with disbelief. "Urahara? He... he
gave you that?" he asked, motioning at the cup.
Grimmjow lowered the book to his lap, he lifted one blue eyebrow. "Yeah, last
night, said it helps hangovers."
Orange brows raised, looking like they were doing their best to reach the
matching spiky fringe above. "You went to Urahara's shop last night—for me?"
The blue-haired man's expression muddied at that. He had gone there for Ichigo,
but he didn't particularly like how that sounded now that he thought about it.
He set the magazine down beside him, and he looked up into surprised copper
eyes and sneered. "Just drink the fucking tea."
Ichigo just blinked. "Excuse me?"
Grimmjow huffed an angry laugh. "You heard me. Drink it."
Ichigo's jaw flexed. "No."
The blue-haired man growled as he pushed himself up and began to stalk towards
the shinigami. "Oh you're going to drink it, Kurosaki," he said lowly.
Ichigo took a step back when the tall-blue haired man stopped directly in front
of him and picked up the cup only to shove it at him. "I'm not fucking drinking
that."
"Why. Not?" Grimmjow demanded.
Ichigo's lips pulled to the side, and he glanced down at the steaming mug in
front of him and then up at an irritated Grimmjow. He shifted his weight and
shrugged one shoulder, looking down at wide planks in lieu of answering. He
didn't like being told what to do. He never had.
"Fine." The man set it back down with a loud clunk, sloshing some of the liquid
onto the counter, and then he walked heavily back over to the couch and swiped
up the magazine he had left. "Go ahead and feel like shit if you want to."
Ichigo started to retort but stopped himself. Because what was he going to say?
'Fine I will,' or maybe, 'I feel fine.' The shinigami's gaze shifted back up to
land on the cup of tea the ex-Espada had gone out to get him for some reason,
and he drew in a quiet breath. It did smell good...
He reached out and hesitantly lifted the mug from its spot, shooting a glance
over at the blue-haired man before taking a small sip, and his eyes fell shut
in relief as the hot liquid seemed to calm his stomach almost immediately, the
steam coaxing his swirling mind to relax more with each inhale. He took another
sip, not noticing blue eyes on him as he did.
Grimmjow watched the shinigami nurse the drink he'd made for him.
He frowned, looking away. Why had he made it for him? He didn't remember
actually thinking it over, but he'd known that Ichigo wouldn't make it for
himself, and he needed it... to feel better—
"Thanks."
Grimmjow looked up, blue brows still pulled down and in as he met expressive,
copper-flecked eyes, and he scratched at his chest.
Ichigo raised the cup of tea a few inches in display when the man's expression
didn't clear. "For this," he said and then took another sip.
Grimmjow ran his tongue slowly along his lower teeth as he considered his
words. "Yeah, no problem." And then he watched in growing interest as Ichigo
walked over and took the seat at the end of the couch only two cushions down,
draping his jacket over the armrest beside him. He'd expected a quick exit
after what they'd done. He shifted his hips forward when the mental image of
Ichigo after he'd came all over him supplied itself readily. Ichimaru was
right, the shinigami really did look good in white. Grimmjow grinned.
The orange-haired teen closed his eyes, and slid down in his seat. He took
another drink before letting his head fall back to rest on the back of the
black couch with a heavy breath as his hands lowered to his lap, the cup they
held almost empty, not feeling in such a hurry anymore. "This stuff is great.
So what's the plan for today?"
Grimmjow looked back over at Ichigo, and he shifted closer to the shinigami,
leaving only a cushion between them. "Don't you have school today?"
Copper eyes opened, looking a little groggy, as Ichigo's head stayed resting on
the back of the couch, and he let out a laugh. "That sounds really weird when
you say that, you know?"
Grimmjow tilted his head, a sly smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah?" he asked, sliding closer, and his voice dropped as his leg settled
against Ichigo's. "And why's that, Ichigo?"
"Just does." Ichigo ran a thumb idly along the rim of the warm cup in his hands
as he eyed the suddenly close man, his larger leg pressing against his, and
brown eyes took a sweeping look unnecessarily; taking in the black fitted shirt
that conformed to his torso in a way that really shouldn't be possible and then
down to loose-fitting sweatpants. "Don't you think you'd like someone more your
age?"
Grimmjow laughed, pulling the attention of wide brown eyes up quickly. "And
what's my age, Ichigo? Hm?" Lips parted to show the tips of white teeth as
Grimmjow leaned in closer.
"Ah." Ichigo paused when warm puffs of air began to brush his ear. "I don't
know," he said, voice growing rough as he tried to think around the ex-Espada,
who seemed to be taking up more and more of his thoughts. A hand settled on his
thigh just above his knee, and he stifled a low grunt of surprise. "Don't you?"
he forced out.
Grimmjow shook his head, looking amused and something else Ichigo couldn't
pinpoint as intensely quiet blue eyes held him trapped. "Not a clue," he said,
long fingers curling around Ichigo's leg but not sliding up further. And then
the ex-hollow cocked his head and said, "A car."
Brown eyes blinked. "A car...?"
Grimmjow gave the leg under his hand a squeeze and then stood up. "Yeah, I want
to buy a car today." He lifted a hand to run through his swept-back hair, his
shirt pulling up a few inches to expose tan skin as he looked down at Ichigo,
who appeared unsure but not completely against the idea.
"You have a license?"
Grimmjow grinned widely, placing a hand overtop his tone chest, blue hair and
even bluer eyes even more prominent with his black shirt for contrast. "Of
course, Ichigo, I'm a law abiding citizen now."
Ichigo looked up at the tall man before him blankly, and then he rolled his
eyes, sighing as he stood up slowly. "All right. Let's go." He pulled on his
jacket. "Do you know what you want yet?"
"Oh yeah."
===============================================================================
“Here you go Mr.—"
"Jaegerjaquez," Grimmjow said coolly, as he stood in a pair of charcoal cargo
pants, his black shirt, and a black jacket, unzipped and collar up. He was
studying the red Jaguar F-Type with black leather interior before him like he
wanted to do something very inappropriate to the brand new convertible.
"Jaegerjaquez, what a unique name," the tall dark-haired woman, who claimed to
be a car salesman, said, as she leaned in even closer to him in her knee-
length, but incredibly tight skirt. Her white button down looking, in Ichigo’s
opinion, to be even more open since her return with the keys for the ex-
Espada's purchase. She smiled coyly up at him. "Is there a Mrs. Jaegerjaquez?"
she asked, dark eyes flicking down to the man's bare left hand.
Ichigo cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked away from a smiling Grimmjow
as the woman slinked even closer, placing her hand delicately on the top of the
ex-Espada's new vehicle. He glanced around at the imported car lot, and he felt
the distinct urge to just leave. Why was he even needed for this anyway?
"No, but you've met Ichigo here, right?"
Copper eyes widened, frozen on a black Porsche 911. There was no way. He
couldn't be—His head swiveled back just in time to catch a still-grinning
Grimmjow wrap his fingers gently around the shocked woman's wrist and remove it
from the hood of his car. "Thank you again, Lola, I'll be sure to look you up
when I need another car," he said in a low rough voice, that had the woman
nodding as she blinked rapidly, eyes looking dazed.
"Oh. Yes... Yes, of course, Mr. Jaegerjaquez. Enjoy. It was good to meet you,"
she said as she took a step back, her gaze shifting over to land on Ichigo with
a novel interest, the woman not having addressed him the entire time. "You too,
Mr. Kurosaki."
Ichigo felt his lips turn up despite himself, and he scrubbed a hand through
his hair, as his insides decided to waffle between two very polar emotions at
Grimmjow's mentioning of him. "Yeah, you too," he said in his deep voice.
"Well, let's go then," Grimmjow said, and Ichigo watched in confusion as the
taller man made his way away from the car and towards him with a noticeable
spring in his step, and when he reached him he took Ichigo's hand hanging by
his side, lifted it, and placed the key in his palm.
Ichigo blinked. His chin dropped.
Grimmjow smiled and shifted closer, his hand still covering Ichigo's that held
the key to his brand new car, and he dipped down to whisper in his ear, "You
can drive it if you want, Ichigo."
===============================================================================
Ichigo laughed as the V8 engine gurgled as he let off the gas, and then when he
was halfway into the turn, he pressed back down. It roared back to life, the
powerful, throaty sound reverberating through his entire body as they moved
further and further away from the car lot. The sleek red vehicle only got
smoother the faster he went, and fuck if it wasn't loud. His smile grew
impossibly wider.
"You like it?"
Ichigo shot a quick glance over at the tall man beside him, the tips of his
blue hair not protected by the windshield and getting whipped around as they
drove along a quiet road outside of Karakura town with the top down. "Fuck
yeah," he said with a laugh. He eased on the gas as they approached an
intersection with a red light, braking reluctantly and cutting off the
chortling noise he was quickly becoming addicted to. "Why are you letting me
drive this?" he asked, too happy to even really care.
Grimmjow shrugged one shoulder as he sat with his right arm draped over the
passenger door, its window down. "Because I don't know how to."
Ichigo glanced over at the man, and then he moved forward through the green
light, slowly picking up speed again as he took a left to make his way further
out of town. "Then why'd you get it?"
Blue eyes shifted over to land on the shinigami—whose wild hair would match the
contrast stitching in the seats if it were not quite as bright—watching as he
drove the car with apparent ease before turning back to speeding scenery, the
cloudless sky above mirroring them. "I miss going fast," he said simply.
Ichigo hesitated at that. "Ah," he finally said lamely. Taking a slight left
and merging onto the highway, the mood suddenly felt tense between them as the
car growled and then roared under his increasingly heavy foot, passing other
vehicles easily as he drove to nowhere very quickly. He was incredibly grateful
at that moment he'd gone through with the driver's licensing procedure despite
being utterly carless. Well, unless one counted his dad's mini van. Which he
didn't.
He glanced over at his silent passenger as traffic thinned, the powerful
machine taking them further and further from Karakura Town. "What else do you
miss?" he asked for some reason.
Grimmjow smiled over at him slyly. "You really wanna know that, Ichigo?"
The shinigami's gaze shifted back to the road. "Yeah," he said, surprised at
his answer but not sure why. He should want to know, because... well, he felt
kind of responsible for him somehow since he was a human now. Maybe it was
because the ex-hollow felt almost too vulnerable with his gaping holes of
knowledge, or that he knew if his friends ever found him and recognized him
they'd try to kill him, and probably succeed. Or maybe it was just because the
ex-Espada had asked him for help out of everyone.
Ichigo frowned. Maybe he did have a hero complex. The shinigami forced the
uncomfortable musings away, speeding up and focusing on the clear road ahead of
him.
Grimmjow lifted fingers up off the edge of the door, and let them drift outside
of the car, air speeding over and under and between his fingertips, and blue
eyes fell shut as he said, "My powers."
Ichigo found himself nodding. He couldn't imagine losing his own, the
adrenaline rush it gave him was like no other, and to lose his powers... he'd
feel useless. He'd be furious. The tall and once very powerful ex-Espada had
been relatively mild-mannered considering everything. He hadn't even
complained... not that Ichigo would have been sympathetic. But still.
He flicked on the blinker abruptly, shifting into the left lane just in time to
pull off the exit he'd once known well. After less than five minutes of
driving, the trees on either side of them began to grow thicker. He made a
right onto a dead-end road that ended less than a mile later at a large, paved
parking lot that was marked off by letters. The sound of distant shrill
screaming made a small smile push at the corners of his lips as nostalgia toyed
with his thoughts. He hadn't been to the place since elementary school, even
though Keigo and Chad and his dad and little sisters went several times a year.
He always turned them down.
"What's this?" Grimmjow asked, the tall blue-haired man suddenly perking up,
cobalt eyes flaring with an interest as they landed on train tracks in the
distance that were built high in the air, cars flying along them with screaming
people strapped into them.
Ichigo pulled into a space and put the shiny red car into park, and he looked
over at the ex-Espada. "Fun. You up for it, Jaegerjaquez?"
He received a wide grin in response.
"I thought you'd never ask, Kurosaki."
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