(Edited Jan. 18th 2009)
This has gone from a Three-Shot (3) to a projected 10 chapters. It all started with a drabble for the LJ comm 30kisses.
"Bleach" and its characters are the property of the awesome KuboTite- I'm just messing with them.
Occurs sometime after Ch. 213 – so brush up on your Bleach over at OneManga if you must.
Summary: Grimmjaw has an itch to scratch while Ulquiorra and Ichimaru have a tea party. Seriously. It's Espada/Tea.
Pairing: GrimmjawXOrihime
Contains: Suggestive themes, language.
0oO0oO
"Consider this, even if it doesn't make sense." Fionna Apple- "I Know"
0oO0oO
Sometimes it itches.
He thought he'd progressed passed this stage. Physically everything was as it should be, but something was off.
It still tingled.
The sensation was familiar (odd enough as it was) but it wasn't something he'd come to anticipate. As a Hollow he felt pain and pride- as his own self he'd admit to feeling anger. Sensation was something he was limited in- so this feeling was amongst the oddest.
It was understandable at first- the pins-and-needles, sometimes an invisible itch he couldn't quite scratch. He ignored it when in the company of others; there was no way he'd give them the satisfaction of seeing him reach for something that wasn't there.
It was freaking humiliating enough as it was, having gone to Aizen and come back minus one limb. Even those that were less than discerning (WonderWeiss came to mind) could tell what had happened; worst of all was why. He'd felt like a petulant child upon arriving in the chamber, and once that damn Tousen had sliced it off, Aizen acted like he'd been given a smack on the wrist.
Only in the solitude of his own chamber would Grimmjaw give into his burning nerves and grapple the empty space at his side.
He'd often wondered how something that wasn't there could be so fucking annoying.
But he hadn't had to endure it long, as fun as his farce had been (pretending that he hadn't in fact needed two arms). The lanky bastard that was Ulquiorra had delivered a woman to Aizen (later he would come to see her as that shinigami's comrade- but for then she was just a human).
Imagine his surprise when his arm suddenly materialized as though Tousen had never severed it.
The arm was just as it had been; flawless and powerful.
The arrancar would have marvelled over the lack of scarring but he'd been occupied with more pressing matters. Aizen had called the woman's powers God-like, and Grimmjaw knew just how to test the range of this ability of hers.
Brand and rank restored, he'd wasted no time in putting his New-Old arm through Ruppi's obnoxious-self.
The arm worked fluently and his cero was potent as ever.
Reflecting on all this in his chamber days later he tried to remember the exact instant he could mobilize his renewed limb. The itch had been a constant reminder of what wasn't there but could still be felt. The feeling then and now wasn't all that different he realized. He'd always had the sensation- now he had something physically concrete to accompany it.
So maybe this woman's powers weren't as strong as he was lead to believe.
Flexing a muscle in his forearm he watched his fingers twitch. Grimmjaw glared at his palm accusingly before clenching his first and waiting for the knuckles to crack in consecutive order.
The perfect synchronization in which the limb now existed in was unnerving, but only by the fact that the damn thing still itched.
It was his arm- the same one that had been cleaved off and immolated- of this he was sure. So if that woman's ability truly was "event rejection" why did he still feel the nerves jump? Maybe the broad hadn't done the damn thing properly? She was capable of releasing the Hyougyoka according to Aizen, so "fixing" his arm should have been a simple task.
It was fucking annoying not having it (more so when it itched) but the fact it persisted once he'd had it restored was infuriating. He'd rather have no damn arm at all then go around with one that'd been tampered with. The more he thought about it, the less it felt like his own arm.
Upon closer inspection it didn't actually feel at all like his left; the nails looked too long- did it even have the same pigment? The limb was looking increasingly foreign.
This was his arm for fuck sake- not a piece of machinery.
So Grimmjaw had decided the woman was going to fix it.
Again.
"And this time she better damn well do it properly." he muttered.
0oO0oO0oO0oO0oO
On his way through the halls he figured if the woman couldn't do this at the very least, Aizen had gotten himself a dud of a supposed 'god'. With no use for her maybe Aizen would stop wasting time (namely his) and he could finally smear that orange-haired shinigami all over the walls.
The reinstated Espada wasn't surprised to find the corridor to her chamber occupied. Ulquiorra it seemed had been given the 'task' of manipulating the human. Like it was difficult. On one hand Aizen's trust in Ulquiorra annoyed him, but then he remembered it was because the bastard was a soft-spoken coward that just happened to be good at kissing-ass.
'Slim over there would probably pour Aizen's fucking tea if he was asked to', Grimmjaw mused as he sent the pale Espada a baleful look.
Much to his annoyance, Ulquiorra merely spared him the usual banal expression of vagueness he'd come to be associated with.
Mindful of his temper and not willing to risk the exposure of his presence he ignored the stoic Espada completely and made his way to the door frame. For a second it seemed Ulquiorra wasn't going to protest, but a long arm shot out, effectively barring his entry.
"Are you lost, Grimmjaw Jaggerjack?" he intoned.
"No."
"Then what do you think you are doing?" Ulquiorra asked, as though he'd made an insipid comment on the weather.
Grimmjaw scoffed. "It's none of your damn business so-"
"Unfortunately for me, everything beyond this door is under my jurisdiction. Unless Aizen-sama has given you express-"
"I don't need permission," he growled threateningly. "I have business here."
Expecting an argument from Ulquiorra, he prepared himself to physically remove the Espada from his path when he saw the pale arrancars gaze shift passed his shoulder.
"Well, well, what's dear Grimmjaw-Kun doing all the way over here," an entirely too jocular voice echoed.
Damned Gin and his shunpo. Grimmjaw hated when the bastard snuck-up on him.
"Aah, this sure looks suspicious," Gin lulled with that disgusting grin of his. "Jaw-Kun isn't giving you trouble is he Ulquiorra?"
Grimmjaw could tell by the tilt of the shinigami's head that he was waiting for him to put a foot wrong. Ichimaru was a bastard like that. And creepy to boot.
"Aizen-Sama wouldn't be pleased Grimmjaw, one would think you'd be on your best behaviour after what happened last month..."
He weighed his options before speaking. He'd have to give enough to get what he wanted, while saying as little as possible. That was the trick with Gin.
"The woman fucked up my arm, she's going to fix it." he stated factually and turned to face Ichimaru.
The ex-shinigami looked like Christmas had come early; Grimmjaw began to worry if he'd said too much. The last thing he wanted was to provide Aizen with a reason to keep an eye on him. Or eyes. One wandering one in particular. He'd already drawn enough attention to himself earlier. Gin was about as lucid as mud, and even more shifty. Anything Gin got his claws on would no doubt make its way back to Aizen.
"Well if that's the case I'm sure Aizen-Sama wouldn't mind you paying Orihime-Chan a little visit." Ichimaru purred, eying the closed door.
In his peripheral vision he could see Ulquiorra shift in his objection. It was the only action that would betray his current state of annoyance. His face remained much like a mask.
"Don't you agree, Ulquiorra?" baited the shinigami expectantly. If Gin wanted his compliance, he'd twist words and grin until he got it.
The sallow arrancar blinked slowly before inclining his head, "...if you think it's wise, Ichimaru."
Grimmjaw's face broke into a sneer. It looked like he'd get the last laugh this time.
Moving swiftly towards the door, goal within reach, he halted when a pallid hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Whirring around and preparing to knock Ulquiorra flat, he faltered when Ichimaru stood there instead, grinning malignly.
"Be sure to treat Hime-Chan nicely Jaw-Kun, she's our guest after all. I'd hate for you to get punished again." While the words echoed in the archway, Grimmjaw couldn't help but look passed the shinigami towards his fellow Espada.
Sure enough Ulquiorra had as much a smile on as he could manage. It was barely a twitch of the lip, but his large eyes said what his lips did not.
Who's laughing now?
He felt a lour bloom on his face, and he shrugged roughly to straighten his cambric jacket.
"Ulquiorra looks like he could use some tea, Ichimaru-San," he ground out. "I'm sure he'd enjoy your company."
Fuck you.
Grimmjaw didn't give a flying fuck about why the shinigami liked tea so goddamn much- but if it would get Tall-and-Sickly out of his hair for a few precious minutes he didn't care what they did. It was because he knew Gin had some perverse asphyxiation with annoying the dull Espada to death. It probably had something to do with the fact that Ulquiorra couldn't emote if his life depended on it, nor would he object the shinigami's suggestion. Disdain slid over Gin like oil off water. It was unable to stick.
Ichimaru's grin broadened, "Gladly...You are looking a bit peaky Ulquiorra, more so than usual."
Grimmjaw watched with supreme satisfaction as Gin clapped a bony hand over the arrancar's shoulder, all the while Ulquiorra bore holes back at him.
I'm going to kill you.
"Neh, Ulquiorra, don't worry. We'll be back shortly- If we hurry we can join Aizen-Sama for his afternoon tea."
A lot.
Grimmjaw was extremely pleased with the uncomfortable look on his 'brothers' face. Ichimaru while well aware made no move to take his hand from the shorter Espada. Grimmjaw felt a swell of... something, for Ichimaru Gin at that moment. Don't misunderstand- he hated the shinigami with a passion- but he hated the other Espada more.
Shifting back towards the door Grimmjaw grasped the handle before Ichimaru's voice made him pause.
"Before we leave... Tousen said something interesting the other day, you know?"
Grimmjaw was standing on a precipice. He knew he wouldn't get out of this that easily.
"...aah, I may have heard something about it." He replied stonily.
Ichimaru's amusement was almost palpable. "He said it came off easily. I'd be interested to see just how easily- if you give me a reason."
Grimmjaw gripped the elaborate handle of one of the double-doors tightly.
"Say 'Hi,' to Hime-Chan for me, won't you?" Ichimaru ventured innocently before slinking off down the dark hall with Ulquiorra in tow.
"Fucking bastards," he found himself murmuring before casting the door open and slipping inside noiselessly.
0oO0oO
Please review!
Notes: ahh, my brain just ran with this one. It was supposed to be very serioso and wax poetic etc- but it turned out somewhat humorous. The Espada remind me of too-many college boys living in one house. I figured I may as well let the characters mess with each other before the sht hits the fan- because it's fun.
I hope you enjoyed it.
I'm off to have some tea as well- do you think Ulquiorra will survive his endeavour? Probably...