Hello... Don't mind me, I'm only a dream. Totally not here writing a random oneshot. Trust me.
Actually no, I'm really sick (for the LAST time, I do NOT have the Swine Flu, dammit!) and hence I can't go to sleep. Which is why I just wrote this. It came out of no where...Well, actually yes, I got the idea because I wandered out into my kitchen and ate come chocolate icing...and now I think I'm gonna be sick...
Hmhm. yeah, when I get sick, I tend to write random oneshots and stuff... seriously, this is the only one I've finished. I got halfway through a -Man one...started on a Hichigo/Ichigo fic...started a sequel to one of my TWEWY fics..the list goes on. Anyways, here we go! If i seriously screwed something up, it's cause I myself was asleep while writing this!
CaCoPhOnY Of ScReAmS does not own Bleach!
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Grimmjow furrowed his eyebrows and screwed his eyes shut. What the hell was that noise..? He groaned, rolling over in his large bed and curling his legs up to his chest like a cat, twisting the sheets tightly around his body as he did so.
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Ugh, it hadn't stopped. Why hadn't it stopped? Goddamnit, some people were trying to sleep in the godforsaken place! He buried his head under the soft, white pillow that lay unused at the head of his bed; he never needed a pillow, he simply cushioned his head with his arms. Still, his heightened hearing would not allow him to block out that damned sound. Those quiet, identical, naggingly familiar noises that continued to echo down the hallway.
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With a pissed off and exasperated groan, He sat up in his bed, his electric blue hair sticking up in places it never would have normally, and his eyes blurry from sleep. Crawling out from his tangled mess of blankets, he stretched out his back, popping his neck a few times to get rid of the stiff feeling from sleeping awkwardly. Jumping off the cushy mattress, he yawned, the jaw covering the right side of his face stretching open as he did, and pulled up the waistband on his hakama; they'd fallen low on his hips while he slept.
Not even bothering to put his sandals on, Grimmjow left his room, padding away down the hallway in the direction his annoying sound had left. He really wanted to know what the fuck was up at this unholy hour of the day making those strange noises. (or night. Whatever it is that happens in Hueco Mundo) His bare feet made fairly quiet noises as he walked on.
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Oh, so that was it. The noises were footsteps, he realized. His, however, were louder and slower-paced than the ones that had awoken him from his slumber. that would indicate someone obviously smaller and lighter than him, wouldn't it?
"But seriously, who the hell'd be walking around Las Noches at this hour?" Grimmjow wondered to himself, letting out a forceful sigh, "Well. this IS the Espada wing, so there's only 9 people who'd be up here. Szayel Aporro, Stark, and Ulquiorra are the only ones light enough to make those footsteps...and Stark is most DEFINITELY asleep, so that narrows it down to Szayel or Ulquiorra." In all honesty, Grimmjow hoped it was the former option. Hell yeah, the pink-haired scientist was creepy as all fuck, but at least he could kick the Octava around for disturbing his rest. The Cuatro, unfortunately, he couldn't. Not if he wanted to keep his limbs.
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Aha! There was the sounds again; he must've been getting closer. Making a quick right hand turn once he realized that the obnoxious footfalls had come from down there, Grimmjow sped up his pace, not wanting to lose whoever he was pursuing. The noises his own feet created growing louder and coming at a faster tempo. Before he stopped.
Silence.
The other set of footsteps had ceased, and not too far up ahead. hurrying down the hallway, he found himself at the door to the kitchens. This was strange, hell, Grimmjow had never even been inside the kitchen before; Arrancars had very minimal need for human food, and if they were ever to get the urge to eat, they'd simply head down to the human world. The rooms were kept usable largely for the benefit of Aizen-sama, as well as Gin and Tōsen.
Placing his hand on the cool metal of the door, Grimmjow pushed it open, peering around curiously inside. Almost everything was made out of stainless steel, the metal standing out in contrast with the sheer whiteness of everything else in Las Noches. There was a small wooden table set off to the right hand side of the room, the brown grain the only source of real colour variation in the area.
"Okaaayyy, then where the fuck is anyo--" The Sexta's thoughts were cut short as a figure appeared from behind an island row of shelves. Grimmjow stood there awkwardly, watching as Ulquiorra walked over and took a seat at the table. The petite Arrancar was holding a medium-sized container of something in his hands. Still unaware as to Grimmjow's presence, (whether that was due to Grimmjow hiding his reiatsu, or it just being too damn early for Ulquiorra to notice, he wasn't sure) the ebony-haired Espada proceeded to swipe a long finger along the inside of the container, before placing it in his mouth.
Grimmjow yawned again, unable to stop himself. The small noise that resulted immediately grabbed Ulquiorra's attention, and his head whipped up to stare right at him, his finger still nestled between his black and white lips. So much for being subtle.
"Do you have any idea how fucking early it is, Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow asked, planting a scowl on his face; he'd gotten so used to using that expression around the Cuatro, it had been dubbed his 'Ulquiorra look'.
"I believe it is nearing three o'clock in the a.m." Ulquiorra monotoned, setting his hands down on the table. He stared up at Grimmjow with his large emerald eyes, "What are you doing here, Grimmjow?"
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing here, asshole?! You were walking the halls in the dead of night and fucking woke me up!" He spat, glaring at the stoic man.
"And it did not occur to you to simply go back to sleep?" Ulquiorra asked, raising a shaded eyebrow. He absentmindedly tightened and loosened his grip on the container he still held.
Grimmjow groaned. Verbal wars with Ulquiorra could go on forever, "No. Ya wanna know why? Because I was wondering who the fuck in their right mind would be up at this time, so I decided to check it out. Besides, I can't get back to sleep once I'm up." He shrugged, "What about you? Chronic insomnia? What the fuck are you doing up, 'cause you obviously weren't woken up." Yawning again, Grimmjow approached the table, taking a seat at the opposite end from the brunet. He was too tired to stand anymore.
"I..." Ulquiorra seemed to debate his words, "I could not sleep. It's not unusual. I simply decided to come to the kitchen to...indulge myself, if you will." He let out a barely audible sigh as he ran his index finger along the rim of the container.
"Hah! I knew it, you're a night creeper. Why don't you just stay in your room if you can't...Aw, ya know what? It's too fucking early for this; I'm too damn tired to think of an argument right now." He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, "What're you doing, anyways?"
Ulquiorra shot him a tiny glare. Still potent, but no where near as menacing as some of the other ones the Cuatro had thrown his way, "I don't need to explain myself to trash like you." He said quietly, and a bit defensively, wrapping his slim fingers around the round container and pulling it slightly closer.
"Yeah, yeah." Grimmjow huffed, "I'm trash, we've established that. I was just asking, there's no need to get all fucking defensive about it, Schiffer." Grimmjow rolled his eyes at the somewhat perplexed look that was directed at him, but quite honestly, he didn't give a fuck. And it was more than obvious that Ulquiorra was too tired to put up a decent glare.
"I was not being 'defensive', Jeagerjaques. I simply do not wish to disclose information unto you."
Another sigh, "Just tell me what the hell you're doing..." He trailed off, "Think of it as payback for waking me up at this hour."
Ulquiorra gave him a thoughtful look, chewing lightly on his black upper lip. Seeming to come to a conclusion, the higher ranked Espada bowed his head and mumbled, "I.....ing....col..ici.." He then swiped his finger through the container again, before sticking the digit into his mouth.
The teal haired Espada grinned, leaning forward over the table, "What was that, Ulquiorra? I couldn't hear you." He played a mocking tone into his voice, despite how freaking tired he was at the moment.
With one last weak glare, Ulquiorra slid his finger out of his mouth, repeating, "I said...I'm eating chocolate icing." He said, in embarrassment, once again scooping some of the confection out of its container and eating it.
Grimmjow blinked.
Ulquiorra's eyes suddenly found the floor very interesting.
"You're eating what?" Grimmjow asked, raising one eyebrow as he stared incredulously at the smaller man.
"Chocolate icing." Ulquiorra repeated once again, still not looking up. If Grimmjow didn't know better, he'd have thought that the white skinned Arrancar was ashamed of his little quirk. Slowly, a wolfish grin worked it's way across his face, even his hollow mask seeming to smile.
"Well, it seems like you do this often..." He prodded, hoping for a reply. Surprisingly, he got it.
"More often than not... It seems I've grown partial to the human treat." Ulquiorra admitted, deciding that he would not shame himself by hanging his head to his subordinate anymore. Still, his expression seemed nervous. Unsure, he glanced down at the chocolaty substance he was clutching, and then back up to Grimmjow.
"Would you like some?"
"Would I--wait, what? did you just offer me something?!" Grimmjow paused in shock, staring with wide blue eyes at the other man.
Ulquiorra sighed, "If you would, I suggest you take up my offer before I wake up and get my senses straightened out." His voice, now that Grimmjow thought about it, was laced with fatigue.
Grimmjow shook his head, slouching back in his chair, "Nah. Chocolate's not really my thing, yanno?" He stated, glancing at Ulquiorra, who's look instantly morphed into one of disbelief. Inside his head, Grimmjow feared that he might've just said the wrong thing to the barely awake Cuatro.
"You...don't like chocolate?" Ulquiorra repeated the words, as though the sentence was simply not meant to be put together by one's mouth, "How can you not like chocolate?" He demanded, staring straight at Grimmjow with his wide, begging green eyes.
He shrugged, "I dunno..." He mused, rolling the question over in his head. There was no use, though; he was so tired he was practically brain-dead. He didn't have an answer to Ulquiorra's question. Said Arrancar didn't look like he was going to accept that explanation.
Before Grimmjow could even register what was going on, he felt something enter his mouth. Eyes snapping back into focus immediately, he realized that Ulquiorra had once again covered his finger in the icing, and had placed it in Grimmjow's mouth. "Wow..." He thought, mind struggling to keep up with that was going on, "I must've totally zoned out for him to get all the way across the table..."
Without thinking, he brushed his tongue across Ulquiorra's finger, tasting the sweet, creamy icing on it. It was a mild, milk chocolate kind, and Grimmjow would've been lying if he said that he found it disgusting; in fact it was rather enjoyable. As Ulquiorra pulled his finger out of Grimmjow's mouth, he paused just long enough for the wet digit to trail down his lips, lingering on his chin for a moment before falling back down to the brunet's side.
"Hm...I suppose it wasn't all that bad..." Grimmjow said lightly, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Ulquiorra's own lips turned up ever so slightly. Not enough to be called a grin, but it was there all the same. Shortly after that, though, the small Espada quickly shoved some more icing into his own mouth, looking slightly surprised with himself as he sat down in Grimmjow's lap.
"Ul..quiorra....what're ya doin'?" Grimmjow asked, finding his voice came out slurred and sloppy. Wordlessly, the petite male turned his head so that he was facing Grimmjow fully, before placing the tiniest of kisses on his tan lips. Grimmjow's hazy eyes opened wide, "What... was that?"
"Your hair is so pretty, for such trash..." Ulquiorra's voice barely raised above a whisper as he twirled his fingers through Grimmjow's disheveled locks. From where he was situated, Grimmjow could clearly see Ulquiorra's brilliant emerald irises clouded over from exhaustion; it was obvious that the man was half asleep where he sat.
"Ulquiorra, how long had it been since you slept?" Grimmjow asked, tying to sound as serious as he could, which was hard, considering that he was nearly asleep as well.
"Mmmm....perhaps a week, maybe more...." The Cuatro suddenly yawned, nuzzling his head into the crook in Grimmjow's neck, "I'm tired." He whispered, his breath tickling the Sexta's skin. Grimmjow also lowered his head so that it was resting on Ulquiorra's shoulder. Strangely, liking the feeling of the smaller one lying against his bare chest.
"Well then no wonder yer tired, ya fucking idiot." Grimmjow huffed, lifting his head up and placing a hand under Ulquiorra's chin to make him look up. Still disoriented, it took Grimmjow a while to realize that he'd initiated another kiss between the two of them. And even when it fully dawned on him, he didn't move to stop it. That was the moment he decided that he REALLY liked chocolate icing...and Ulquiorra Schiffer.
Their kiss broke off moments later, as Grimmjow stood from the chair, hooking his right arm under Ulquiorra's legs and his left around his back, he carried his superior bridal style, with the ebony-haired Arrancar's arms wrapped around his neck.
"Let's get you to bed, y'moron," Grimmjow murmured to a silent Ulquiorra, who had fallen asleep in his arms within seconds. Leaving the kitchen, the Sexta turned down the familiar hallway and toward his own chambers; he was not positive of the whereabouts of Ulquiorra's room, and was quite frankly, too fucking tired to deal with that right now. Consider it payback for his loss of valuable sleep.
He groaned tiredly as he kicked open the door to his room, striding over to the bed with clumsy, awkward steps. He set Ulquiorra down on the bed, carefully, though he doubted that a horde of stampeding Menos could wake him from his catatonic state. Fumbling with the blankets, Grimmjow curled up next to the sleeping Ulquiorra, before pulling the blankets over both of them and falling into a deep slumber.
He really didn't want to have to explain this in the morning.
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