Disclaimer : Bleach does not belong to me, and I make no money from this.
Warning: AU, Violence, Language
A/N: Edited for punctuation and redundancy, with many many thanks from lilarin who is awesome.
I.
The bell tinkles and the auburn-haired barista looks up to see him enter, the afternoon sunlight outlining his lean figure. He wears the white suit as if it was sewn on him, and judging by the quality, it may well be. The midnight shirt outlines the muscles underneath, and the tie is perfectly executed, a viridian shade to flatter the wearer's eyes. Walking to the counter soundlessly, one hand jams into his pocket, as if to emphasize the cut and fit of his trousers.
When he gets close enough for her to see his square jaw and the tilt of his nose, she is not surprised by the sudden mad fluttering of her stomach. This infatuation she has for him is ridiculous, and she cannot understand why it is on him, of all people.
"One double espresso," he murmurs, his eyes searching the menu.
"Of course," she responds, her eyes falling on his long slim fingers as he drums them on the countertop. "Please have a seat."
Without another word, he settles for the corner stool, looking out the window. He sinks into the seat as if it were a horse; back straight, knees wide, straddling it almost lovingly, his mirror-shined shoes braced against the bars crossing the legs of the stool. One arm rests on the tabletop, his forefinger stroking the wood lightly.
Every Tuesday at seven, precisely, since four months ago, he comes in, this customer, his dark hair looking wild and windblown, and he orders the exact same drink every time. He sits on what she has christened in her mind as 'his' stool, and gazes out the window.
In these four months he has never made eye contact with her, nor has he initiated any conversation with her. In fact, every time she has tried to say anything, he has just ignored her and walked away.
She has worked long enough in this business to know when to leave customers alone, but this one in particular fascinates her.
The espressos poured, she balances the demitasse cup on the tray. On impulse, she grabs a cookie, plates it, and adds it to her load. Then she tiptoes over to him, laying out the dishware with a muted clink. By now, she knows that his cologne is going to hit her when she bends over, and his scent will linger even after she straightens up.
"I did not order this." His voice, low and husky, has her heart rate picking up.
"On the house," she tells him with a smile, looking him in the eye for the first time. He really has gorgeous eyes, the colour of a forest at midnight, and this is the first time she's seen them up close like this.
He stares back for a second, caught off guard, and then he averts his eyes, as if hoarding himself. He has the saddest eyes she has ever seen, and it breaks her heart.
"Thank you." His tone is dismissive now, and he stares back out the window as if she was already gone.
"You're welcome," she sighs quietly, bowing her head as she walks away. The back door opens, and her co-worker Chizuru comes back from her break.
"Hey, Orihime, did it get busy?" the bespectacled girl chirps. She glances in the direction of their one client, and scowls. "Grumpy Cat is here again, eh?"
Orihime covers her friend's mouth, casting a horrified glance over his shoulder. "Sshh! Don't call him that!" she hisses.
Chizuru's eyes gleam slyly under the glasses. "At least I didn't tell him about your cr-," she yelps as Orihime drags her to the back room.
"Seriously, Chizuru," she snaps, when they are in relative privacy. "Firstly, it's not good service to talk about your customers like that. And secondly, I don't have a crush on him."
Chizuru snickers unrepentantly. "Sure you don't."
Orihime scowls. "Stay here until you can behave yourself."
She pushes through the door, to find the man standing by the counter, eyes downcast. His dishes are neatly piled, and the exact change has been counted out. As usual, he has five dollars tucked into the tip jar.
"Woman, why did you give me a cookie?" he asks, raising his cold green eyes to her curiously.
Two instances of eye contact today! In her head, she is marking her mental calendar with a big pink heart. Exclamation mark, question mark, exclamation mark.
His penetrating gaze has her cheeks glowing.
"It looked like you needed a cookie today. Did you like it, sir? It is our newest offering, butterscotch macadamia." She notices some crumbs on his chin, and reaches beside her to grab a napkin.
When she looks up again, he is gone, the jangling bell announcing his exit.
"Meow. Grumpy cat ran away," Chizuru giggles. Orihime sighs.
.
.
The next week, he comes in, right when a high school football team is swarming the shop, ready to grab their coffee before heading to the afterparty. She knows the moment he enters the glass doors.
Orihime curses her awareness of this man, even as she smiles at sweaty teenage boys, dodges pathetic one liners, and politely declines propositions.
To expedite things, she prepares the double shot of espresso, so that the regular customer gets his drink first.
But by the time she is ready to bring it over, he is already walking out the door.
.
.
Another week passes.
This time, the shop is back to the typical quiet Tuesday night. A couple of office girls finish off a slice of cake, and ogle the man as he enters the shop. His hair is more tousled than normal, probably because of the light drizzle outside.
Orihime has his double espresso ready for him by the time he reaches the counter.
He stares at the cup blankly, then reaches down for it. His slender fingers should look ridiculous around the cup, but instead they cradle the hot porcelain, bringing it slowly to his lips. Then he tips his head back, and Orihime is mesmerized by the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallows the bitter liquid. His lips are slightly stained brown by the coffee, and he licks them lightly, still eyeing the menu.
She is transfixed by the sheer male beauty in front of her. He carefully avoids eye contact with her as he makes his decision.
"One earl grey tea, please. To go." So he is not staying. Orihime is disappointed. "Yes, sir," she sighs.
Chizuru pops in behind her. "Sir, may I have your name?"
"Excuse me?" He studies the pastries in the case as if he is considering one.
"For the cup." She shows him the cup and the felt-tip pen. "We need to write your name on the cup so that people don't get confused. It's standard policy."
"It's Ulquiorra." He reaches for his wallet, throwing down a ten.
"Uh, what?" Chizuru pauses, her pen hovering over the cup, "could you please repeat that again?" But he has turned away from the counter, heading over to his regular seat.
With hisses of 'Grumpy Cat', Chizuru hands her the cup. Orihime pops the teabag in, and pours the hot water, closing the lid with a snap.
His eyes flick over the cup in her hands as she approaches, and she sees him almost wince, so quickly that Orihime wonders if she has just imagined it.
"Your tea... Leonora?" She reads the misspelt name, eyes wide. She hears the mad snickers from behind the counter, and the squeak of the hinges announces Chizuru's hasty retreat. "Oh, I am so sorry, sir, please let me change the cup out."
He rises, towering over her easily, one hand in his pocket. "No. Give me the tea, and I'll be on my way." He reaches for the cup.
"But- your name isn't Leonora." Stubbornly, she pulls the cup just out of his reach.
"And the tea is getting cold," he says quietly, staring at her hand.
The door chimes; Ichigo, the delivery man, shows up with coffee supplies.
"Hey, Orihime." Her head turns, and she smiles at her friend whom she also has a crush on, but will never admit.
Now her cheeks are blazing from the absurdly high levels of male hotness in the coffee shop.
The customer takes advantage of her distraction, pulling the tea out of her hands. Their fingers brush, briefly. Orihime, caught unawares, lurches away as he brushes past her on the way to the exit. Of course, being her usual clumsy self, she ends up knocking a chair over when she stretches out her hand to brace herself.
"Easy there, asshole," Ichigo glares at the customer, running over to help Orihime right the chair. "Hey Orihime, are you okay?"
The regular ignores him, stopping by the condiments stand to pour cream into his tea. He doesn't even turn his head in her direction.
"N-no, it's my fault. I would not give him his tea," Orihime stammers, blushing harder from Ichigo's grip on her elbows.
The jangle of the chimes interrupts their discussion, signalling the exit of the man in the white suit.
"Pfft. Shoving people for no reason is inexcusable." Normally when Ichigo gives her his undivided attention, Orihime is a blubbering mess, but today, she is strangely annoyed. Waving him away, she starts unpacking the boxes to inspect their contents.
.
.
He does not show up the next week, nor the week after.
Orihime wonders if she will ever see him again.
.
.
On the third week, he appears, still in his expertly tailored suit, with the tight black shirt and the same deep green tie that matches his eyes.
Orihime ignores the leap that her heart makes at the sight of him and tries to control her escalating pulse.
"One double espresso," he tells her. She cannot hide the smile crossing her lips as she punches in his order.
"This is amusing?" he asks in his monotone, his lips turning down slightly at the corners.
She glances up at him, her eyes sparkling. "No, but you, sir, are very consistent," she tells him. Her eye contact catches him off guard, and he averts his eyes. Doing an about-face, he walks to the window seat.
She has his espresso in no time, and she serves it without saying anything. He sits by the window, not turning his head in her direction at all. Orihime sighs as she walks away, simply contented to have him in here again.
The door chimes signal the entry of another, taller man, in a similar snow-hued suit. He has wild hair with all the colours of a cloudless summer sky, and a smile with too many teeth. Orihime does not like the predatory way he scans the coffee shop, with his blue gaze resting on her eventually.
"Yo, Ulquiorra," he calls out, eyes never leaving her. At first she is confused, thinking he is addressing her.
The customer rises from his seat, leaving a neatly folded five dollar bill on the dark surface of the window counter.
"This where you hang out?" the taller man asks, in an extra-loud voice. "Man, I don't blame you. The barista here is ha-awt." He throws her a wink, and Orihime notices the light blue eyeshadow under his eyes. But there is an air of danger around him that she does not trust.
Feeling exposed, she ducks behind the espresso machine.
He walks past the newcomer, and heads out the door, hands in his pockets. "Let's go, Sexta," he says, sounding bored.
"Aww, but you never let me have any fun," the taller man whines, turning to follow him.
Orihime wonders what her favourite customer does for a living, if he hangs out with someone as scary as that guy. Also, what kind of a name is Sexta?
.
.
The next day, the scary man with the electric blue eyes is waiting for her when she starts her shift.
"Yo, busty." He toasts her with his frappuccino from the table facing the counter, presumably from the previous shift.
Chizuru huddles into her back. "Hime-chan, that customer is scary," she mewls, peeking over the taller girl's shoulder. "I don't like him."
Orihime ignores the man's taunt, and grabs Chizuru's hands, giving it a squeeze. "It's okay," she reassures her, "It's broad daylight and he is just a customer, he probably won't do anything. Let's get back to work." She grabs the bussing rag to wipe down tables.
"Stay here and keep on cleaning," she tells Chizuru. The magenta-haired girl nods, and heads to the back to grab the mop.
She ignores the leers that the man sends her way, wiping down the first few tables. He watches her make her way through all the tables.
"Aren't you going to wipe mine down, eh, busty?" He smirks as she tries to retreat past him.
"I can wait until you are done, customer," she replies with a forced smile.
Looking her in the eye, he uncaps his drink and slowly pours it on the table. "Oops." He smiles, all sharp teeth. "I made a mess. Can you clean it up?"
Lowering her head, Orihime nods. She sends up a prayer of thanks that she decided to wear jeans today. Bending forward, she tries to stay out of reach as she wipes the spilled drink with her cloth. To her horror, the man leans forward and traps a lock of her long hair between two fingers, twirling slowly to bring her face closer to his.
"Please - what are you doing?" Orihime hates the pleading in her voice, the weak bleatings of a helpless girl.
"Mmm. You smell nice," he hisses into her ear. "I can see why you've got our friend all hot and bothered over you."
"What?" She looks at him, wide eyed and fearful. He pulls her even closer.
"Hime-chan, do you want me to call the police?" Chizuru calls from behind the counter, holding the phone in her hand.
The man releases her abruptly, an easy smile on his face. "No need. We're all friends here, right?" He rakes a sharp fingernail down her cheek, leaving a faint red line. "You, me, and Ulquiorra make three."
She presses a hand to her cheek, backing away as if he slapped her. "I can see why he comes here," He tells her, sucking on his fingertip as he rises to his feet, frappuccino forgotten on the table. "You are absolutely delectable, busty. Bet you're a screamer too. I like screamers."
"Who is Ul-," Orihime is silenced by the strange man's sudden shout of laughter, and she backs away uneasily.
"Oh, don't tell me he hasn't told you his name?" He chuckles, sliding on his hat with a flourish. "His name is Ulquiorra Cifer, and I am -"
"Sexta!" she breathes, taking another step back. His eyes twinkle. "So you do know me? You're so cute, such a frightened little bunny." He stalks her, enjoying the fear in her eyes.
"I'm calling the police," Chizuru decides loudly, dialing.
The man smirks at this. "Normally I like breaking the spunky, headstrong girls, making them cry." He glances over at Chizuru, sending her a predatory smile. "But I've got a tasty morsel right here, so maybe another time." He tips over a display case, sending bottles and packages skittering across the ground. Orihime flinches, making him smile even wider.
"Aww, am I scaring you, little bunny rabbit?" He follows her rapidly repeating steps, and smiles as she sinks into a crouch in the corner, eyes closed. He descends upon her, gripping her chin in his hands. "Oh, it would be so sweet to eat you up," He growls, moving his face closer. "But our Cuatro has first dibs on you, so…" He satisfies himself with licking her ear instead, grinning as she trembles violently.
"By the way," he whispers. "My name is Grimmjow." He blows hot air into her ear, making her throw her arms up over her head, tears running down her face. "Remember that. You'll be screaming it soon enough." The sirens wailing in the distance have him releasing his grip on her chin. He rises to his feet easily, and throws some money at her. "For my drink," he says, flashing his razor-sharp teeth. Tipping his hat at Chizuru, he walks out the door.
...
A/N: Hi! Please R&R. I was going to stop writing about Bleach for a bit, but this got into my head. Shoutout to Keira14 and pb409 and the rest of you awesome awesome peeps. I'm still kinda feeling out this story, so please let me know if you have any suggestions about what happens next :D