Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

I could hear, with astonishing details, the activities in the next room. Grimmjow must be a hustler to make Cuatro scream like that. As for me, I flatly found it hard to recognize what sort of enjoyment could be derived from fucking the brains out of someone every night. Surely it would get repetitive at some point in time. But who was I to judge? I never knew the sensation, the pleasure, the thrill- just plainly nothing of it.

So this night again was to meet no sleep from me. I was sure the noise coming from the other side of the wall wasn't solely responsible for it, but something more urgent was, as a matter of fact. Aizen-sama had made it a point to assign me in the exploration of Stark's duality and its nature, which suited me just fine. It wasn't like I was given plenty of choices to start with. In any case, I had been told that he was indeed two entities, which frankly was some primitive mumbo-jumbo hypothesized by someone who had the mental capacity of Diez Espada. But, as it had been ordained by the great lord, I was wise enough to keep my sentiments to myself. After all, it wouldn't be of any difference; I'd prove everyone wrong in the end.

At about half past twelve, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had ceased making their unpleasant sounds. At the same time, I wouldn't entirely be relieved of disturbance because no sooner than the noise died down did a series of impatient knocks issue from my door. My subject had arrived.

"Come in."

Stark walked in, disinterested and dazed due to lack of sleep-or should I say excess thereof? With fists stuffed in his pockets, he probably intended to appear like he meant business, although he already looked serious enough without having to do such.

"I'll take a seat."

Before he could, I motioned at him to take the stool beside me, just in time to intercept his descent on my newly purchased couch, a luxury item compared to the other contents of my room. He scowled at me, but obeyed anyway.

"Where is your companion?"

"Lilineth? I was sure she was following me… is she needed in this procedure?"

"I should think so. The objective of this experiment is to determine whether you two are separable in a permanent sense."

"To determine only? Can't you, like, wrench her away from me, forever?"

"No one lives forever, Stark."

He scratched his head, like the way he always did when things got too troublesome for him, meaning he did that all the time.

"I mean, how about you revert things the way they were before I split into two bodies?"

"We must first gain absolute assurance that your body and soul can survive in her absence. She is a part of you, and your ultimate weapon. I'm more inclined to think things won't go as you desire."

He scratched his head again, more vigorously this time as if he'd just been sentenced to a day of maintenance work. I knelt down before him, a rather undignified action, but I had no choice; I had to obtain flesh from his thighs, where it was advisable to extract muscle tissues if inflicting pain wasn't so high on your list. As far as I was concerned, I strictly wasn't planning to go on the bad side of someone like Primera Espada.

"Need assistance?" He inquired.

"Please roll your Hakama up."

He did as he was told, almost docilely, not knowing what sort of pain was in store for him. I produced an oversized utensil, one humans used for biopsy, all the while propping myself to witness its interesting effect.

"OUCH, Holy mother fuck! That hurt! Aaaargh!"

I was sure this was the first time I saw him completely awake, and I perhaps would've snickered loud enough to wake the entire palace if only he wouldn't writhe around as though death was really thick on him or he wished it to be.

"Stark, are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not! Geez, what did I ever do to deserve this pain?"

"I need to verify the composition of your cells to advance my research on you. I'm sorry but this painful procedure is absolutely necessary."

He was nursing his thigh, a good portion of his normally clothed leg revealed under the lab lamps. I allowed a few minutes to be spent at his leisure, to perhaps alleviate whatever he was suffering from-as if something like a biopsy could be painful to people like us. Still panting and vexed, he spoke,

"Are we done here? Did you get what you want?"

His voice was deep as I'd known it, almost altogether composed, but I couldn't really miss the shaky ring that accompanied it.

"I managed to extract tissue, alright, so let's hope this should be enough. You can go now, and please be back next week; same time."

He rose to his feet, without bothering to straighten his Hakama, and limped towards my lovely couch. Now as bad a sight as any worn-out warrior, he said, sounding as though he was basically making excuses to be around-or I was imagining it,

"You go on with your stuff. I'll rest my leg here for a little while, so just ignore me; I'll be gone sooner than you'd think I overstayed."

"I'll trust you on that one."

I went about my business, keeping in mind that I was in complete solitude, when suddenly snore filled the room. Stark had fallen asleep. The more I watched him, the greater seemed my necessity to be left alone. With irritation, I began to ponder if pain was more conducive to inviting sleep or alertness, the latter being the more ordinary case. In the case of Stark, maybe it was a comfort to consider anything could induce him to doze off.

I drew closer, faster than my sense could gain complete authority over me.

Why was he number one? Just what made him so goddamn brilliant, simple as he was?

He didn't even look serene in his sleep. If anything, his general appearance didn't exactly spell savage, yet most especially not decent, with nothing of the majesty you'd expect from someone you couldn't trample on and whose strength naturally demanded respect. On second thoughts, however, his slender body would earn much on a runway, especially the legs; they were so long and fair to look upon. The face wasn't bad, either. He was maybe fearsome to look at, or perhaps something else, but whatever it was, it wasn't scary enough.

His breathing grew heavier as he plunged deeper into slumber. I couldn't recall having stared at someone for as long as I stood there, perhaps memorizing his sound and the sight he presented.

I stood over him while he tossed around and tilted in crazy angles, after which the movements subsided. He was even deeper in his sleep now. And then surprisingly, he talked in his sleep, with sounds so easily discernible, yet absurd all the same,

"Szayel…"

TBC

A/N: Dunno what came over me to write this, but the pairing has pretty much grown in me. anyway, this shall span four chapters.