AN:
Ohkay, so I havent written in like aaaagggeeessss, but for Extension English i gotta do a major work and this is the start of what I'm writing for it. And I REAALLYY need feedback on it. I'm happy for you to say anything about it, in fact , please tell me if you think it's crap :) basically I'm choosing to do an AU fanfiction that's supposed to be exploring whether a story can be completely mental and still make some sense... So yeah, help me out please :D
Ulquiorra opened his eyes. The alarm glared at him in the dark, mockingly proclaiming the existence of hours too early to comprehend. He sighed and rolled out of bed. The floor was cold and hard, this fact prompted him to rise and stagger out of the bedroom into the adjoining bathroom. He splashed his face with water, the icy touch making his hands shake so much that he struggled to turn the tap off again. He sighed again, knowing for sure that he was not going to be able to fall back to sleep again. He considered all the things that he could do at 3am and settled on frying bacon. Within minutes the fatty scent was filling the whole room and carrying him away on a bed of sensory overload. He was tempted to smile dreamily, but didn't because he had long ago been rendered incapable of expressing any sort of emotion.
"What the hell are you doing up!"
Ulquiorra sighed at the interruption to his blissful reverie and turned to face his obnoxious roommate.
"What I do is none of your business, trash."
Grimmjow growled.
"It's my business if it wakes me up!"
"I was hungry."
"You're cooking bacon at 3 am!"
"I was hungry."
"But… Bacon!"
"Silence, trash."
"Why don't you, stupid bat!"
"Obnoxious cat! You're going to wake the neighbours."
"Screw the neighbours!"
A third voice suddenly interjected.
"Who's screwing who?"
Ulquiorra froze and in that instance only two thoughts had the audacity to cross his mind. The first was the overwhelming urge to sink into the carpet. The second was the ague curiosity as to how on earth Szayel had gotten into the apartment. When movement returned to his limbs, he grabbed his bacon off the stove and left the room.
Grimmjow glared at the retreating back before facing the onslaught of the flamboyantly pink haired man in front of him.
"You two really do fight like a married couple you know. Frankly, it's embarrassing. I can't understand how people can tolerate you."
Grimmjow scowled, his fist itching to make contact. Szayel remained oblivious to Grimmjow's murderous expression, choosing instead to place his hands on his hips. He looked, for all purposes, like he was giving a lecture to a two year old.
"I fail to see why you insist on being awake at these unearthly hours! And the bickering! I need my beauty sleep you know."
Grimmjow's frown deepened. He was tired and had a faint bacon craving the last thing he wanted to deal with was Szayel's attitude. So he grabbed him by the collar and threw him out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.
"YOU ALMOST BROKE MY NOSE!"
"Shut up Szayel."
Ulquiorra, meanwhile, sat contentedly on the living room couch eating his bacon in the dark. He felt that he more than deserved his tasty treat and took another bite, watching in concealed amusement as his foul-tempered roommate staggered back to bed. He sat in silence, relishing the last few mouthfuls of his meal. As the bacon slowly disappeared, he considered what to do with the rest of the time before he had to go to work. There was more than enough time in which to complete his demanding skincare regime, so there was no urgency there. He nibbled on the last piece of bacon contemplatively. The apartment was clean, except for some dishes. With the last taste of the bacon melting in his mouth Ulquiorra decided that he was in considerable need of more bacon.
Grimmjow fell back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and his mind woke in a completely different setting. He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly adjusting to the low light. Then he wished he hadn't. He was sitting in the audience at a theatre, a place he would normally refuse to be caught dead in. Theatres were for pansies like Szayel, not for awesomely buff gangsters with blue hair like himself. He narrowed his eyes to try and focus on what was happening on the stage. Someone who looked suspiciously like the head of staff from his workplace was on the stage. He appeared to be doing a sleep rendition of some opera movement. A slick of drool trailed out the corner of his mouth leaving a fine, and slightly luminous trail on his skin. Moments later a small ape at the back corner of the stage caught his attention. The audience watched in rapture as the primate slunk forward until it was standing directly behind the oblivious sleep-performer. The audience held its collective breath as the creature grew and swelled until it was over double its own size. Slowly it opened its razor sharp stomach and consumed the drowsy man in one gulp. Applause broke out across the room like fire across a match head. After the applause had died down the pink stage light detached herself from the beam above and made her way off stage. Her departure was followed by the plaintive pleas of the spotlight, begging her not to leave him. A sleazy stage rope got slapped by the departing light as it tried to seduce her. While this was going on, the heavy curtains had discovered a developing rash and were frantically attempting to detach themselves from the hanging rings that were undoubtedly the source of their discomfort. One of the leading floorboards took this opportunity to make an impromptu debut to stardom. The woody solo rang out strongly throughout the auditorium touching the hearts of all those listening, except Grimmjow of course. No amount of soulful music would ever penetrate his steely exterior. The earthquake hit moments later; the whole theatre shook uncontrollably, until even the foundations quivered…
"Grimmjow! Grimmjow its time for work! Wake up!"
Still groggy, the bluenette lashed out, his fist catching his roommate solidly under the jaw. Ulquiorra punched back, skilfully knocking the air out of his opponent.
"Bastard." Still coughing, Grimmjow pulled himself into a sitting position and glared murderously at his roommate. As per usual, Ulquiorra seemed to have spent the majority of the morning painting his face. Two dark green lines trekked their way down his porcelain cheeks before disappearing off the edge of his jaw.
"You're as bad as Szayel." He wheezed. Ulquiorra shook his head.
"No bacon for you then." He retorted standing and taking the plate that bore the delicacies with him. Grimmjow froze.
"N-no! I'm sorry! You're nothing like Szayel! He's way more pansy than you!"
Ulquiorra considered the statement.
"You are not sorry, you are just hungry trash."
Grimmjow sighed and dragged his uncooperative feet into a standing position. Upon doing so, the second thing he noticed was the distinct sound of Szayel's whining somewhere down the hall.
"Come on Ulquiorra. Just gimme the bacon. I'm starving, and if I can't eat it, I'll have to eat your face."
Ulquiorra replied by giving him a withering glare. Grimmjow responded in kind. Blue met Green as the daily stare-off commenced. After three solid minutes, Ulquiorra was declared victorious. He left the teary eyed Grimmjow with the plate of bacon and made his way to the bathroom mirror to ensure his early morning beating had not disturbed his pristine face. He was satisfied to still have skin that was paler than toothpaste, a fact that stood out almost glaringly when contrasted with his jet black hair. He was about to turn and leave when a slightly more presentable and still chewing Grimmjow appeared in the mirror behind him. Ulquiorra watched patiently as the taller man ran his hands through his hair to detangle any particularly stubborn knots.
"You missed a bit." He commented dryly.
Grimmjow was horrified. "WHAT! Where?" He looked anxiously in the mirror for the alleged area in need of improvement.
"All of it Grimmjow. You still look like you just got out of bed."
Grimmjow snarled and stalked out of the bathroom in frustration.
"I always look like this! Don't freak me out like that!"
Ulquiorra followed the raging bluenette casually, occasionally rebutting a particularly offensive comment with his trademark; "Silence, trash."
In the hallway, the pair was joined by their two neighbours-slash-work colleagues Nnoitra and Szayel. The quartet had formed a very unlikely friendship that could only come from the work that was forced upon them by the Hueco Mundo CEO, Aizen Sosuke. Szayel started the morning's communications by shrieking.
"Look at me!" He wailed. "I look like I've been hit by a truck! I blame you two bickering washer women. You are so uncouth!"
"Hey Nnoitra. Sleep well?" Grimmjow quipped, completely ignoring Szayel's general existence.
Nnoitra grinned spoonily.
"Oh yeah, I sure did. You know me man, I sleep like a shovel!"
Ulquiorra nodded wisely. He did know this, it was very hard to not notice how very…. spoon-like Nnoitra was while he slept. A very tall spoon; quite easily mistakeable for a shovel. They walked in comparative silence, Szayel raging not stopping for anything, before Ulquiorra brought up a pressing question.
"Whose turn is it to drive?"
The other three take turns shrugging before Szayel came up with a solution.
"It can't be me, I drove yesterday."
This statement produced an almost simultaneous reaction from Szayel's companions. Nnoitra groaned loudly, Ulquiorra's face faded to an even lighter shade of white and Grimmjow's eyes lit up like Christmas.
"Pantera my darling! Daddy's coming!" He hollered as he hurtled down the hallway. The other three followed apprehensively. Getting into a car with Grimmjow behind the wheel was always a memorable experience to say the least. He had yet to crash, but it seemed to be only sheer luck that had saved them so far.
"Someone please remind me why on earth we agreed to let him be on the driving roster?" Szayel whined nasally.
"He was too enthusiastic to refuse." Ulquiorra replied, his deadpan expression still painted firmly on his face.
Upon arrival in the building's communal garage, they found Grimmjow purring at his beloved car.
He patted the bonnet affectionately.
"Are you excited Pantera? You get to come driving with Daddy!"
The car in question was arguably the most stunning vehicle in that dingy garage, even Ulquiorra's Murcielago could not compare in lengths of sheer awesomeness. However any appreciation for the car was immediately nullified by the growing horror that Grimmjow would be driving.
Grimmjow kept cooing to his precious car until all passengers had strapped themselves in and found somewhere to hold onto. Grimmjow turned the key in the ignition and Pantera came to life with an almost feral roar. From the time he slammed the car into reverse to the moment he pulled up in the car park all three of his passengers existed in some sort of hyper reality suspended between the realms of high speed whiplash and wondering what-on-earth-was-I-thinking-getting-in-the-car-with-this-guy. Grimmjow scowled as he watched his passengers hurl themselves onto the pavement.
"Geezz…. You guys are such babies!" He scoffed as he walked away. The approaching doors of 'Las Noches Inc' loomed menacingly over the sidewalk promising another full day of work for its unfortunate employees.
Despite Las Noches' menacing aura, it was seldom that anyone other than those directly involved in it ever questioned what business it housed. The whitewashed walls gave away none of their secrets; the mahogany doors gave no sneak peeks. This was most likely a good thing, as sometimes the things that happen behind closed doors are best left undiscovered. But for our unfortunate group of underlings, the long day was only just beginning.