title: what did you give me (to make my heart beat out my chest) — grimmhime, AU - ish
summary: he was probably dying.
characters: grimmjow, orihime, urahara, chad
words: 757
notes i: it took only a week and six fanfictions for me to turn into grimmhime trash. I still hardcore ship ishihime though? someone help me. I shouldn't be allowed to make decisions.
notes ii: sorta AU -ish, now that I think about it.
what did you give me (to make my heart beat out my chest)
evertje
grimmjow had come to a conclusion of sorts: he was dying.
it was the only logical illation. his heart went buck - wild whenever she was in the room, and his stomach dropped at the sound of her voice. not to mention the sweaty palms. that was probably fatal.
it certainly didn't help that her shampoo was mango - scented. for some reason it pleased him.
yeah, he was dying.
after about three weeks, he consulted urahara.
"dying?" he chuckled. "oh, my."
he offered no recourse of any kind.
grimmjow kicked at the sand in frustration and snarled, lips curling. something was up, he was sure of it.
his eyes narrowed.
hmm.
"do you need to take a break, inoue?" chad questioned in his perpetually quiet rumble.
she swiped a wrist across her forehead. "no, I'm - grimmjow - san?"
said man was loping towards the two of them, a dark look fixed on his face. "you," he growled. "woman. come with me."
she blinked stupidly at him. "eh? but I'm in the middle of -" her protest was cut short by the temperamental man snatching her soft (soft, warm, sweet, oh, he was dead) arm and dragging her behind him. chad started after the two of them, but was stopped by an arm thrown in front of his broad chest.
"let them go. he needs to figure out what he's feeling."
chad gave a mild nod of understanding.
"how about the two of us pick up where you and miss inoue left off?"
"w - what's wrong? did I do something? did the cod roe and leeks with jalapeno taste bad?"
grimmjow didn't answer, choosing instead to whip her around to face him. looming close, he snapped:
"i wanna know what you're using."
perplexed silence followed.
"...um, i beg your pardon?"
"i said, what're you using?" he ground out.
"um? With the cod roe? oh, i can give you the recipe, if you want. it's got salt, pepper, paprika, tartar powder, and jalapenos with jalapeno sauce. it was one of sora's favourites," she mused thoughtfully.
another guttural noise clawed its way up his throat, his breath ghosting across her neck as a result. she shivered involuntarily.
"i want to know," he said, "what kind of poison you're giving me, because it's driving me mad. even crazier than the old man back there." he hooked a thumb back in urahara's general direction.
"i'm not giving you any," she stated blankly.
"bullsh-"
"why? is something wrong?" she tilted her head, sundrop - coloured hair draping across her bosom in a sheer curtain. he swallowed. oh, god - here it came. the flipping stomach, the turning organ in his chest, the one he's not supposed to freaking have. big, grey eyes with dancing lights in them (and all the kindness in the world, too) bored into his unnaturally - cerulean ones.
he tore his hands off her shoulders. what was wrong with him? what was with his sudden softness, with his sudden need for her approval and her caress?
his train of thought came screeching to a halt.
...oh. oh, no -
no wonder urahara had laughed at his claim of dying. he wasn't dying.
he might as well have been, though -
his hands clenched into fists that allowed for the nails to bite into his skin.
"grimmjow?" she inquired quietly. "What hurts?"
he barked a laugh. "everything." and he spun away with a bitter gleam in his eyes, leaving orihime all the more confused.
and he knew. he knew what was wrong with him.
notes iii: angst! WHOOP. kind of. i wrote this at twelve in the morning. i hope it's okay? this is my first time writing grimmhime, and I'm not sure I necessarily captured the harsh angle of grimmjow's nature, but - oh, well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i like the idea behind it. hopefully you do, too! this is dedicated to all others who write grimmhime, because BLESS.