Disclaimer: Bleach, characters and their stylish clothing belong to the great Kubo Tite ie All not mine.
A/N: Written very long ago when Ichigo first sliced off Grimmjow's arm in the manga. Does not take into account future character developments. Although I call it Grimmichi, it's really just a light-hearted and fun story. No sex and angst to be found here, sorry.
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Killer Fashion
Chapter 1
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~On a Dark and Stormy Night~
Kurosaki Ichigo, 20 years old, university student, on his way home after a long day at the library working on his research paper, decides to take the short route through the shadier section of the neighborhood.
He expected to be mugged or harassed by gangsters or something unpleasant like that. That's fine because he had the sort of upbringing that meant he could handle it.
But it was entirely unexpected when an obnoxious, blue-haired and highly intoxicated guy stumbled into his arms and promptly groped him.
"Hey babe, looking for some fun?"
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~The Next Morning~
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"Hichigo?" The receptionist raised a skeptical eyebrow, "You're looking for Shirosaki Hichigo?"
"Right, yeah," Ichigo told her, scowl deepening in irritation, "He's my brother. My twin brother."
"Oh?" She replied, sounding highly unconvinced, "Well, if you'll just wait here. Mr. Shirosaki is currently engaged in a photo shoot."
"I know that. He asked me to come pass him some stuff. So could you just point me in the right direction?"
"I'm sorry, that's a little troublesome. I'll have to contact his agent first."
Ichigo could only let out a small growl of impatience.
That's why he hates visiting the studio, Hichigo's damn staff are always so paranoid that he'd turn out to be some psycho stalker or reporter. They are twins, goddammit. Can't anyone see the resemblance?
Flipping out his phone, he angrily stabbed in a number.
"Hey, your receptionist won't let me in," he growled once the line got through, "Eh? Oh, ok."
He held the phone out to the lady at the counter. She looked at it suspiciously but took it.
"Hello? What—Sir! I'm terribly sorr—Yes, sir! Immediately sir!"
Hanging up, she passed the phone back to Ichigo with shaking hands, "I'm so sorry, I had no idea!"
"It's all right. So do I have security clearance now?"
"Right this way sir. Oh, would—would you let me buy you a drink for the trouble? Later?" She looked at him with beseeching eyes.
"…Huh?"
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He managed to shake off the receptionist only 5 minutes later. It isn't easy having an internationally renowned supermodel for a brother. When people are not snubbing you, they're harassing you.
Ichigo blinked as he stepped into the shooting pen, eyes immediately shutting in protest against the harsh spotlights and flashing cameras. He squinted at the mess of photographers and models, trying to catch sight of a tuff of white hair or a glint of hard blue eyes.
"I'm over here, aibou," a voice whispered into his ear and an arm slipped around his neck.
Ichigo couldn't stop the panicked squeak but immediately masked it with an awkward cough, then he elbowed his assailant in the gut.
"How many times do I have to tell you! Don't do that again!" he hissed.
"Am I not allowed to show affection for my favourite twin?" Hichgo asked in mock hurt.
"Shut up. Here's your stuff," Ichigo told him brusquely, dumping the package he had been holding into his twin's arm, "Stop leaving things at home on purpose."
"That's an unfounded accusation. Maybe I'm just forgetful," Hichigo answered with a sly grin, "Want a ride home?"
"Eh, nah, I'm fine."
"Stay for lunch. I''ll be done in 15 minutes."
"Thanks but, hm let me think, how about— NO," Ichigo growled out and turned to go, but his brother grabbed his sleeve.
"Come on, it's just 15 minutes. I'll take you somewhere nice."
He'd make a snappy comeback and introduce his knee somewhere tender, but someone interrupted: "Is this man bothering you?" And it all went to hell.
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Grimmjow stumbled through the door with a pounding headache.
He can't remember what happened the night before but it'd be an anomaly if he did.
Anomaly.
Fancy new word he picked up from one of Aizen's coffee-table magazines about murder and rape and forensic science.
Very useful word. Like how his being late wasn't an anomaly, but Gin's not being there to bite his head off about it was.
Like how that orange-headed boy Shirosaki Hichigo was draping himself over is an anomaly.
A very good-looking anomaly.
Shrugging off a few flustered makeup assistants, Grimmjow slouched over to acquaint himself with said anomaly.
"Stay for lunch," Hichigo, the stuck-up overrated asshole, was telling Mr. Anomaly, "I'll be done in 15 minutes."
Mr. Anomaly politely told him to fuck off.
"Come on," the shameless grease bag continued, "It's just 15 minutes. I'll take you somewhere nice."
Sickened by the cheesy, C-grade movie dialogue, Grimmjow cut in.
"Is this man bothering you?" He asked with all his totally casual bad boy charm.
There was a moment of foreboding silence as Mr. Anomaly turned to stare at him in vague shock and disbelief.
He was extremely surprised too, of course, to be socked straight in the jaw.
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TBC