How the hell had he gotten himself into this situation?
Grimmjow shook his head and double-checked the location that he had hastily scrawled down on a crumpled up tissue. Yep, he was at the right address, and this was definitely the place.
'The Fat Angel'.
He didn't get the meaning behind the name, and he didn't care. Though he was surprised at how he had lived here for so long, been thrown out of so many bars, and yet still never came across this one. That was just another worry to add onto his already growing pile, all starting back to when he heard his phone ring an hour ago.
Being disturbed from his beauty sleep, Grimmjow had groggily reached for his mobile and cursed when he dropped it, making a vow that if someone wasn't dead or dying, they soon would be.
An unknown number and a voice he didn't recognise was on the other end of the line, spouting off about how he needed to come and pick up his friend. Grimmjow let out a husky laugh when he heard that it was from a bar, and told the guy that no true friend of his would bring his name up when asking to be brought home after a night of drinking.
Hearing Nel's name was enough to send a shot of adrenaline through his body and instantly wake him up. He scrambled to find something to write on and got dressed, all the while muttering angrily under his breath when his attempts to call her went straight to voicemail.
The address was across town, though not too far from where Nel herself lived. He didn't have enough cash on hand for a taxi, which meant he was travelling on foot. Gritting his teeth, he zipped up his jacket, stepped out into the cold night air and took off.
One long, brisk walk later and here he was, outside a dingy looking bar called The Fat Angel. Nel was far from the type to be out partying this late, and he knew for a fact that she had better taste than this.
For a start, this place was in dire need of some new colour. He probably hadn't even dropped out of school by the time this building had last seen a fresh coat of paint. The concrete holding the bricks together looked like it was on the verge of crumbling into dust, causing the whole thing to collapse like a house of cards.
The rusted door handle was just as uninviting, and a pretty clear indication that whoever was running the joint, didn't care in the slightest that it was falling apart.
Grimmjow braced himself for the worst and went inside.
Well, it was warmer than outside, but the list of compliments he could give ran dry from there. The term dive bar got tossed around a lot, but Grimmjow preferred to call a spade a spade and this place was an absolute shithole.
The fact that it was still open at this hour gave him the impression that business wasn't going too well. So in order to pay the bills, they had to do whatever they could to appease the poor souls that would willingly choose to inhabit this dump. Grimmjow warily glanced at the few barflies that were still here drinking, they shot back with looks of suspicion and annoyance.
He was certain that these fine folks appreciated Nel's drunken shenanigans.
Grimmjow strolled up to the bar and waved the server over, all the while scanning the room for any signs for her. If she had already left and he had to search the streets at this hour for her...
The barman nodded with a smile as he walked over. "What can I get you pal?"
Grimmjow had to give him credit, this guy somehow managed to keep a friendly exterior in a place that absolutely reeked of depression. He wagered that a gravetender would have better company while working than this poor bastard.
"You Leo?"
"That's right."
"Grimmjow, we spoke on the phone 30 minutes ago."
"Oh right, you're Nel's friend." He grinned, much to Grimmjow's dissatisfaction.
"Yeah, where is she?"
"Well she shouted out that she had to pee five minutes ago, mind you, she did wobble a bit on the way over to the toilet after her big announcement." Leo snorted.
Grimmjow sighed and silently prayed that he wouldn't have to carry her home. It was cold, he was tired, Nel was heavy; all in all, just a recipe for disaster. He wasn't sure he could pull off a good enough excuse as to explain why she was in hospital after he had dropped her onto hard concrete.
Speak of the devil, coming out sauntering from the bathroom was a very intoxicated Nel. She was singing very loudly, and very terribly, though mercifully stopped and lit up when she saw him standing there.
"Grimmjow!" Nel exclaimed happily, nearly tripping over herself to rush towards him. "How did you get here? Hey, bring us some more drinks! I think I've still got some cash on me, what do you want babe?"
That was how he knew she was completely slashed, well aside from calling him babe. Sober Nel would know that he didn't drink anymore. Sober Nel would know that he had been clean from all alcohol for a year.
Sober Nel would know this because she was one of the biggest helps in getting him to turn over a new leaf.
See, he had always been game when it came to a bout of drinking, but in the months leading up to him going cold turkey, it really got away from him. It had slipped from an occasional social activity, to a daily routine, he felt incomplete if a day went by and he wasn't shitfaced.
Originally it wasn't even the alcohol that was the problem, he could live with some fucked up liver and a sore head. No, the bigger problem was what it led to: Fights, lots of them. Some, he started, mostly it was him defending himself.
Whether it was someone's girl he happened to fuck, a relative looking for revenge because he knocked out their family member, a fragile ego he managed to wound, or just a person trying to beat some sense into him, Grimmjow constantly found himself getting into scraps. He had a knack for running his mouth at the most inopportune times and making bad situations even worse.
If he didn't end up with bloody knuckles, stronger thrills would usually find him one way or another, sometimes coming in the form of narcotics. Now, he wasn't normally one for drugs, but hey, if someone was offering, it wasn't like he was going to be the wet blanket and refuse.
Nel was worried she was going to find him dead with a needle coming out of his arm in some back alley. Honestly, you're found once sleeping on some trash bags and all of a sudden you're treated like a hobo with a crippling drug problem.
She had lightly chided him in the past, however that was the final straw for her. Her passive aggressive comments expressing her disapproval had gone out the window and instead she spent the better part of twenty minutes screaming at him.
The anger he could take, what he couldn't handle was seeing his oldest friend suddenly break down in tears. He wasn't worth crying for. He honestly wished she would just give up on him, at least that way it was only his own life that he was fucking up.
But that wasn't Nel. Instead, she managed to constantly get herself into danger by pulling him away from places that made The Fat Angel look like an upper-class establishment.
She had faced down scary and dangerous people who wanted revenge for his drunken misdeeds, drove off his fake friends that were only around because they knew he was good for a free drink and a fun time, and even managed to convince those closest to him who he had wronged, to let go of their grudges towards him.
She had patched up his broken skin, put ice over his bruises, and given him a place to stay at his lowest point, when everyone else had gotten sick of his antics and he really did have nowhere else to go.
She was the voice of reason when he wanted to lash out and held him close when he was about to relapse. Throughout all the sweats and shakes during those long nights, she was by his side whispering comforting nothings in his ear.
She made him feel like it was worth waking up in the morning and getting his life back on track.
Despite initially dropping the sauce for Nel, seeing his body's reaction to being drink deprived was all the motivation he needed to never touch the stuff again. He never liked to think of himself as dependant, hell, he never really thought he drank that much for his body to tremble from its absence like that in the first place.
He felt weird doing normal things after the worst of the withdrawals had faded. Everyday activities that he thought he didn't need to drink for, now felt strange without it. Watching TV, he found himself reaching for a beer that wasn't there. Eating dinner, he felt uncomfortable swapping out alcohol for water.
It got easier once he managed to rationalise his addiction in his head. Where once he needed booze to feel complete, he thought of his sobriety like he had purged all of the poison from his body, and he never wanted to get infected with it again.
It was stupid as hell, but it made him more motivated than ever to stay clean.
The only thing he was dependant on now was Nel, and the simple fact of the matter was that he would be dead without her. She trusted him to break his addiction on his own terms and supported him every step of the way. Getting her home safely tonight was merely interest on the long debt he owed her.
"No, no more drinks. Come on Nel, I'm here to take you home."
"But we're all having fun here, let's stay a while." She pouted.
He took a long look at her and assessed her outfit from head to toe. Suddenly it made sense why they hadn't thrown her out for being quite possibly the most annoying drunk ever. She wore a crop top that showed off her midriff and left little else to the imagination, along with leather shorts that had her long legs on display right down to the top of her calves, where she had on those black leather boots that she loved so much.
Grimmjow glanced around to see the other patrons in the bar eye her with a mixture of amusement and lechery. They made his skin crawl, watching the liquor roll down their fat fucking throats. It was a wonder why it was such a long time since they had seen an actual angel pass through these doors.
It was a genuine mystery how this one managed to fall out of heaven and stumble into this godforsaken place though. Given her attire, it was entirely possible she had ducked in here for shelter from the cold. Still, if it were between freezing to death or staying in The Fat Angel, Grimmjow would welcome hypothermia with open arms.
"How did you get here on your own?" He asked.
"Um..." Nel's face contorted in an effort to retrace her steps.
"She wandered in on her own about two hours ago." Leo helpfully piped up.
"I was with my friends! We were doing a whole tour of the town earlier this afternoon, just going from bar to bar. Harribel was leading us to her favourite spot and I guess somewhere along the way, we just got seperated." She shrugged casually.
Nel had a talent for being extremely charismatic and likeable, which made it all the more puzzling why she decided to hang around with the likes of him. He wasn't the only one who wondered this, as her wide circle of friends often begged her to kick his ass to the curb because he was, if he remembered correctly: "A drunken bum who contributed nothing to society except rage, misery and pain."
They were an eloquent bunch.
The one person in her group of friends he could never get a read on was Tier Harribel, well other than the fact that she was about as straight as a butcher's hook.
Harribel acted fairly neutral towards him, she was always polite and proper in the rare occasion that they talked. She was also well aware of how much Nel cared for him and never joined in ridiculing him. However he had no doubt that if his actions had ever led to Nel getting hurt, out of all her friends who voiced how much they hated him, Harribel would have been the one to actually kill him.
And he would have thanked her for it.
Considering her extremely protective instincts, it was highly unlikely that she just abandoned Nel and left her stranded somewhere.
"Give me your phone." He demanded.
She limply went through her bag and stuck her tongue out in concentration as she rummaged to find it. Pulling it out, she petulantly handed it over with a huff. Of course it was turned off. Switching it on, he got an immediate 'low battery' warning and was hit with a wave of notifications.
13 missed messages, 6 missed calls, the most recent of which was his from 25 minutes ago. Seemed about right, Harribel's need to remain calm but also being responsible meant that she didn't go crazy with the phone calls.
Grimmjow called back her number and suppressed a chuckle at the cool but firm voice that picked up.
"No, it's Grimmjow. I don't know, some bar called The Fat Angel, it's near her place. Yeah, yeah I'll get her back home in one piece, don't worry. Alright, bye."
Nel giggled at his one-sided conversation. She reminded him of a child who had somehow got separated from their parents and was now laughing about the whole thing without a care in the world.
"Could you not have given him Harribel's number instead of mine? I feel like that would have prevented a lot of unnecessary hassle here." Grimmjow groaned.
"But I wanted to see you, and yours is the only one I know off by heart." She pouted again.
"And if I wasn't so tired, I'd be touched." He said, managing to crack a smile at her. "Alright, let's get the fuck outta here."
"I think the lady said she is fine." Came the sudden rumble beside them. Grimmjow looked down and immediately sympathised with the barstool and how it trembled under the immense weight of someone who looked like they were one chocolate bar away from Type 2 diabetes.
"Yeah, we're all fine. Come on Grimmy, dance with me." Nel pleaded, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him towards the battered looking jukebox.
"Frank, leave him alone. It's time Nel went home." The bartender said.
"Aw come on, Leo, what's the harm in Nelliel staying a little longer?" The fat man sitting in the barstool said with a sleazy grin.
Grimmjow raised an eyebrow and stared menacingly at this obese individual who so clearly had a hard-on for Nel. And while he was happy that the guy could see his penis over his gut for the first time in years, he wasn't about to leave Nel with him.
"You got a problem, boy?" He bellowed, turning to face him.
Grimmjow's nose twitched at the tone, it reminded him far too much of his father. And he hated to see anyone who resembled his father without the broken jaw to match, it just wasn't quite the full picture.
Or at least, not how Grimmjow liked to remember him.
"You don't want this fight buddy, just shut the fuck up and we'll be on our way." Grimmjow warned.
"Hear that boys? Little cocksucker here reckons he's a badass. I've heard stories about you boy, a blue-haired drunken mess who's had more than a few brushes with death. Someone should have done you a favour and put you out of your misery years ago."
"Yeah well, I've been working on redeeming myself and keeping on the straight and narrow. Wouldn't want to end up like you now, would I? Hitting on girls half your age and a quarter of your weight. Now I'll say again, shut the fuck up and we'll be on our way." Grimmjow snarled.
"You're gonna wish that gun never jammed when we're done with you." He growled in response.
"Grimmjow?" Nel's voice was filled with fear and confusion.
"Get behind me." Grimmjow calmly instructed.
"Frank." Leo cautioned.
The man himself finally stood up, along with two other goons that seemed to peel themselves out of the decrepit and hideous walls. A few uncomfortable murmurs echoed across the room from the other booze-hounds at the sudden threat of violence.
Grimmjow grinned and cracked his neck, all that messy street-fighting was about to come in handy once again. And this time it was actually for a semi-noble purpose, though that didn't mean he still wasn't going to enjoy this.
In order to get over the discomfort he had when going about his day alcohol-free, he needed something other than self-loathing to fill the void that his addiction had left. And while Nel's suggestion of knitting was appealing, Grimmjow had opted for some good ol' fashioned exercise, swapping out his beer belly for some muscle.
The other good thing about being sober was that he was a lot more coordinated. So while 3 on 1 would normally be terrible odds in any confrontation, and he would have preferred to be wearing looser trousers than jeans, he wasn't too fazed by his current situation.
Grimmjow ignored Nel's pleas to calm down, Leo's panicked attempts to descalate the situation, and Frank's mumbled threats. All outside stimuli were drowned out as he got into the zone.
"Don't worry darlin', we're not going to hurt your friend, just teach him some mann-" One well-placed haymaker finally shut Frank up and sent him straight to the floor. It wasn't quite the masterful punch he had landed on his father all those years ago, but it did the job.
The next guy that immediately ran at him was a skinnier individual, he had a snake tattoo wrapped around his wrist that Grimmjow almost found himself getting distracted by. He blocked a weak punch with his elbow and growled when he got hit with a sudden kick to his side.
Grimmjow returned the kick by driving a hard boot into the man's shin, then followed it up with a quick flurry of jabs to his torso. The guy staggered back from the onslaught, only to come forward again with a lightning fast hook that caught Grimmjow on the cheek.
Being taken aback for a moment, Grimmjow spied his third opponent on the other side of the room from the corner of his eye. Turning his attention back to his current foe, he was a little jealous that he was never this quick when he used to be drunk, it probably would have saved him from getting cut on a few occasions.
Grimmjow ducked under another punch and managed to grab the wrist with the snake on it. He twisted his arm until he heard a snap, followed by a piercing scream. Kicking his legs from under him, the guy finally went down with a howl.
Breathing hard, Grimmjow looked for his final adversary and sighed a little when he saw him dash towards him. While he was busy dealing with the second one, this guy had went and grabbed a pool cue.
He swung wide, Grimmjow barely managing to get out of the way. He instantly closed the gap while the guy was off balance and threw a hard blow into his gut, causing the pool cue to clatter onto the floor. With a weary grunt, Grimmjow grabbed the guy by the scruff of his neck, and headbutted him as hard as he could.
Thankfully it turned out that all those times Nel had called him hard-headed weren't just a metaphor and the guy joined his two friends on the ground, two more stomps kept him there.
"You need to get the hell out of here, both of you. Don't come back anytime soon." Leo said shakily.
"We'll try not to, but I think I'm really going to miss the ambience here." Grimmjow muttered while catching his breath. He took Nel's shaking hand, led her to the door and resisted the urge to kick the moaning, skinny guy clutching his wrist on the way out.
Once outside, Nel started to shiver even more, causing Grimmjow to raise an eyebrow at her choice of outfit.
"Flaunt it if you got it, right?" She shrugged meekly.
Shaking his head, he reluctantly took off his jacket before roughly handing it to her. Who said chivalry was dead?
They walked in silence for a while before Nel finally calmed down, but unfortunately, still hadn't sobered up.
"You were awfully brave in there." Nel said slowly, as they walked back to her place.
"Uh huh." Grimmjow muttered, rubbing his aching forehead and wiping away some drops of blood. That prick's nose was sharper than it should have been.
"Coming into rescue me like that from all those wicked old men, my knight in shining armour." She teased.
Grimmjow turned around and scoffed at her.
"I came to get you because the bartender was ready to throw you out onto the street and with your sense of direction being terrible when you're sober, I wouldn't fancy your chances in this state. I mean how the hell did you get separated from Harribel? I would've thought she was too busy eying your behind to lose track of you."
Nel tutted at the jibe, but didn't respond. Grimmjow quickly scanned the alleyways they passed by, half-expecting more thugs to jump out and accost them. Once they were sufficiently far enough away from the bar, he began to relax a little.
"You seeing anybody?" Nel casually enquired.
"You know I'm not." He replied softly.
"So there's no one to worry about you if you spend the night?" She asked coyly.
"That was normally your job." He chuckled and stopped when Nel stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.
"You're still my hero for tonight, I think you deserve a reward." She purred, enjoying the feel of his pectoral muscle under his t-shirt.
"My reward is getting you home safely. Come on Nel, stop messing around." He said gruffly.
"You sure know how to make a girl feel desirable." She mumbled.
"Well I'm sorry, but if you wanted me to stroke your ego, you should have called at a better hour."
He felt bad when he saw her shoulders slump in defeat. He didn't want to hurt her feelings but he needed to get her back to her apartment as soon as possible.
"How about we get out of this cold first, then see what happens?" That seemed to perk her back up for the time being, now all he had to do was think how to calm her down once he got there.
As soon as they got inside Nel's apartment, Grimmjow instantly regretted even mildly entertaining her flirtatious comments. She had once again halted him, this time pressing herself against him.
"I know you want me." She said in the most sultry voice she could muster. However because of how drunk she still was, she slurred her words, sounding less sexy, and more like she was having a stroke.
"Nel, seriously, knock it off." Grimmjow said firmly.
She turned around and grinded on him as if she was dancing to a beat that only she could hear. Grimmjow grunted as she slowly rubbed her rear against his crotch, Nel without any inhibitions was really something else.
He was half-expecting an angel and devil to appear on his shoulders advising him on the pros and cons of the situation. In reality, it was more like the angel was in his head telling him to get her to bed safely, while the devil in his trousers was telling him to accept her blatant invitation and fuck her raw right here.
She leaned back and tilted her head up to look at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The whiff of alcohol on her breath was more than enough to put impure thoughts to rest. He needed to quench her libido and bring her back to her senses.
"Nel, I'm a piece of shit who doesn't appreciate you anywhere as much as I should. I have pretty much been a burden to you for as long as I've known you and if you were sane, you would have cut me out of your life years ago. I'm not going to ruin whatever this is for one night of drunken sex that you won't even remember."
"Oh, I don't think this is about you being all noble. What about all the times I wasn't drinking, were you being honorable then too? Honestly, I think you're scared, too much of a pussy to make a move." She whispered, her soft lips dangerously close to his.
She wasn't completely wrong about that.
In all their years together, the most intimate they had gotten was sharing some kisses on cold, wintery nights like this one. His terrible life choices didn't exactly lend themselves to romance or being great boyfriend material.
She never commented on rumours of his torrid flings or one night stands, and he was just happy if any guy or girl that she briefly dated, wasn't as big of a scumbag loser as he was.
It wasn't like he hadn't ever thought of her in that way either. He could still vaguely but painfully remember a few times when he had drunkenly made an ass of himself by trying to make a move on her. Needless to say, she hadn't been impressed. Those memories still physically stung him whenever they would re-emerge, normally when he was about to sleep. Instead of drifting off, he would spend the next hour silently cursing and hating himself.
Sobering up did little to stop the guilt flowing through him whenever they were alone these days, and his feelings towards her were getting the better of him. After all she had done for and given him, she deserved better than a recently sobered up, angry asshole looking for literally any job that would take him.
His life had been so shitty for so long, that he was now scared to ask for more, especially from her.
"I think you should try and get some sleep." He said tactfully.
Realising that she was being rejected, Nel spun around and pushed him away.
"Fine! All the women you've slept with and suddenly I'm not good enough for you?"
Grimmjow couldn't help but snicker at her sudden outburst. Not only had she completely ignored everything he just said, but jealousy and bitterness were so out of character for Nel, that hearing them lace her tone out of nowhere was hilarious.
His laughter was cut short when Nel stomped on his foot with her boot as hard as she could.
"Arrgh! You fucking bitch, I should have left you with that fat prick."
"Maybe you should've! At least then there'd be a 10% chance that I'd cum tonight." Nel shouted.
Grimmjow winced at the statement and watched her storm off into her bedroom and slam the door. There was definitely a time where he could re-evaluate their relationship and his feelings for her, but tonight was certainly not it.
He sighed and sat down on her couch. He wasn't looking forward to going back home, the walk here was cold and unpleasant. Plus, it was possible that those guys he knocked out had gotten back up and were checking the streets for him.
He could crash here for tonight and then be gone before she even woke up tomorrow. He had slept on her couch so often that it nearly had an indent of his form in it. Taking off his own boots, he made a note to himself that his next pair should definitely be steel-toed.
"Ah shit." He muttered, and sprinted over when he suddenly heard retching noises coming from her room.
He rushed into her ensuite bathroom, where Nel was reduced to a crying, puking pile on the floor, covered in only a t-shirt and underwear.
Grimmjow resisted the urge to make sure his jacket was okay, and waded in to pull her hair back to prevent her from getting sick mixed into it.
"I'm so sorry!" She sobbed between vomiting. "About everything. You should never have come to that bar, I know how hard it must have been for you to be in that environment."
Well, she was sobering up anyway.
"It's alright Nel, just... try and aim for your toilet."
When she had finally emptied her stomach, Grimmjow helped wipe away some of the sick, clean up a little, and dry the last of her tears. She looked up at him like a sad puppy with makeup smudged on her face.
"I thought you would have learned from my dumbass on some of the pitfalls of alcohol abuse." He was relieved when he saw a faint smile on her lips. "We all have that night where he have one too many, it's nothing to cry about. Unless it's not really just a night, more of an everyday occurrence, then it's alright to cry."
"You never cried once." She whispered.
"Oh trust me, I was bawling on the inside." He grinned. "Besides, why would I need to cry when I had you?"
"You shouldn't have come get me, what if you got tempted to have a drink?"
"I wasn't even thinking about booze from the second I saw you."
"Too focused on my outfit, eh?" She said slyly, trying to inject some humour and draw attention away from her embarrassing incident.
"As was everyone else." He suddenly scooped her up bridal style and carried her to her bed. "Like offering blood to a bunch of starving sharks."
"A shark's got nothing on you." She giggled.
He gently laid her down onto the soft mattress and was about to say goodnight then walk out, when Nel desperately clutched at his arm.
"Stay." She pleaded quietly.
She was wet, her breath smelt like sick, there was a decent to fair chance she'd get sick again, but at that moment, he didn't care. He had shed enough blood and sweat on her that he was sure he could handle a little vomit. He crawled into bed with her and let her rest herself on his chest.
"What did he mean when he said that the gun jammed?" Nel whispered and snuggled against him when she felt his chest vibrate with soft laughter.
"And here I was thinking that was one of the better stories about me that went around: 'The time Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez cheated death'." He chuckled, staring up at the ceiling.
"I was going about the bad side of town, looking for a place that I hadn't yet been barred from. I was about to pack it in for the night when I heard this loud music coming from a building that resembled more a warehouse. And not too dissimilar to how you ended up in The Fat Angel, I found myself in this motorcycle clubhouse. It was filled with a lot of mean and ugly sons of bitches, the type that would make our buddy Frank look like a male model. I was minding my business as best as I could when some biker asshole spilled a drink on my jacket. Me being me, I reasonably responded by punching him in the face. Next thing I know, I've got 10 guys decked out in biker gear on me, beating me down. I couldn't do much except ball up on the ground, protect my head and try not to focus on all the ribs they were cracking like eggs.
"Barely conscious, they dragged me out this side door and called who I guess was their boss. I'll never forget his fancy boots and how they clicked against the concrete. His eyes had this wicked and dangerous shotgun shine to them. When he heard what happened, a crooked smile crept across his face, a gold tooth on the bottom row gleaming brightly. He looked me over once then pulled out this real old-looking gun, it had a fancy pearl handle and all sorts of engravings on it. He started talking to me with his silver tongue in a gravelly voice as he cocked the gun. I was already gone, reflecting on my shitty life up to that point, glad that it wasn't flashing before my eyes. Realising he wasn't going to get a response out of me, the guy tuts and nonchalantly puts the gun to my temple.
"I closed my eyes and tried not to think about you finding out that your worst fear finally came true. However, instead of a deafening bang, there was a feeble click. I opened my eyes to see the guy looking just as confused as I was. Pausing for a second, he holsters his gun and pulls out a cigar. A few seconds or minutes go by, I can't remember, and there's nothing but stillness and this guy puffing on a cigar, brows furrowed in concentration. He finally motions to two of his bikers to lift me up so we can talk eye to eye. He blows smoke in my face and goes into this long backstory about how he's had that gun for 25 years and it's saved his life countless times and blah blah fucking blah.
"I'm still dripping blood everywhere and not paying him any mind until he grabbed me by my throat and pulls me close. He didn't know if his gun had jammed, there was some divine intervention at play, or he just forgot to load the fucking thing, but that he was going to take it as a sign and give me a second chance. The shock of that night and my injuries made me stop drinking for three days. Three days. I almost get my brains blown out and don't even last a week off the booze. No, instead it took you weeping for me, and never giving up on this sad, broken drunk."
The brief silence that filled the air after Grimmjow had told his story was immediately shattered by the sounds of light snoring. He looked down to see a string of drool coming from Nel's mouth and dripping onto the yellow logo of his Wu-Tang t-shirt.
He might have been a little offended if he wasn't also desperate for sleep.
Grimmjow smiled warmly, and leant down to place a gentle kiss on the top of his sleeping angel's head, eternally grateful for all she had given him. He closed his eyes to join her in slumber, and let his thoughts of how right it felt to hold her in his arms envelop him.
He would still be there when she awoke the following morning.