It had started off like any other battle-brash, bloody, mindless, pointless.
At least, in Ulquiorra's opinion. All of Grimmjow's fights were picked with no purpose, except possibly to relieve his boredom-but even then the Cuarta doubted he had the most basic of logic. Grimmjow was reckless and rash- though Ulquiorra had no idea why he chose him to lash out at.
A mad cat, he thought, easily dodging another one of the Sexta's swipes and inwardly smirking at his hiss of frustration, when he missed a second time.
"ULQUIORRAAAA!" snarled the Sexta, the Cuarta was driving him crazy, coolly avoiding his attacks as if he were swatting away a fly, and not a ferocious feline.
He was furious, for no specific reason. He didn't need any excuses, unless he was forced to explain before Aizen why a particularly large chunk of Hueco Mundo's castle hallways had been smashed to smithereens. His realm, thought Grimmjow bitterly, his precious little domain. He rather liked the idea of the so-called palace being reduced to rubble, as he demolished another few pillars with a cero.
''Aizen-sama would not approve of your wild behavior, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,'' intoned Ulquiorra monotonously, though the sentence was said stoically (as ever) it sliced through the Sexta's thoughts suddenly, since his superior rarely spoke during their brawls.
"Shut up! I couldn't care less what the hell your Aizen-sama approves of or not!'' yelled Grimmjow, aiming a kick at Ulquiorra which was calmly blocked with his wrist, before the former was flung back into the wall.
"You would do well to mind your manners and mend your temperament, Sexta. And he is not my Aizen-sama. I am his, we are his. He is only mine in the respect of being my creator and lord, as he should be yours…and honored accordingly."
"I told you…to SHUT IT!'' shouted Grimmjow, launching himself forth at the fourth from the colossal dust cloud of the crumbled concrete columns.
Fool, he never learns-but his thoughts were cut off by the sense of shock invading his sentiments, as he realized that it was Pantera, not Grimmjow who leaped forward and tackled him, smashing through the walls and tumbling the two of them into the cold, barren night of the desert.
The Cuarta, to his credit, barely coughed as he took a moment to recover his breath. When his senses returned as well, he had realized that Pantera was sitting astride him, hands around his throat, claws already drawing little rivulets of blood that streamed down and disappeared into his hollow hole, though not before staining his high-collared jacket a bright crimson red. But not as bright as the triumphant gleam in Grimmjow's eyes, glinting dangerously.
Ulquiorra sighed. Now Aizen-sama would have to get someone to make another. He did hate having to inconvenience his master. And himself. To be honest, the man unnerved him ever so mildly. He was in no way uneasy or at a discomfort in his presence, but there was something distinctly perturbing, however slight, about his master's reiatsu. As a being of great power himself, Ulquiorra could sense it - Grimmjow, he considered as he lay beneath him, Grimmjow was probably too stupid to acknowledge that arduous element in Aizen's aura, and hence persisted in putting himself at peril by defying the man. Thus it was left to the Cuarta, practically Aizen's right hand man, to deal with the wild, impulsive idiot.
In other words, to pulverize him. Almost with boredom, Ulquiorra felt the spirit particles start to stir and swirl in his palm, channeling from the atmosphere to his pale hand to form a cero. In a single blow, it would be all over. Again. Till the next day perhaps. Or the morning.
Then it would start all over again.
It was at this moment that that Ulquiorra glanced up into Grimmjow's cerulean blue eyes, blazing with an internal craze, sparking with some strange fire. The Cuarta found himself fascinated, in spite of himself. Forgetting his cero, he stared deep into his (currently) dominant competitor, curious.
"…Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
''What?'' growled Grimmjow, his tail twitching in irritation at Ulquiorra's incomprehensible reaction to getting bashed into the ground.
"Aren't you gonna blast me off your body?What the hell d'ya mean 'Why'?" In a single swift movement, his tail snapped once against the sand before it lashed across Ulquiorra's face, whipping his countenance till it dripped blood.
"Why…"said Ulquiorra, unfazed and calmly wiping away at his cheek, still holding Grimmjow's gaze, "do you so insist on being such an idiot, Jaegerjaquez?"
At this, Grimmjow snarled and grabbed him by the collar before slamming him down into the sand again forcefully. Perhaps it was his helmet that protected him, but Ulquiorra merely grunted as his head made contact with the ground again.
"Ah, that's going to ache for a bit,'' Ulquiorra commented almost absentmindedly as he carefully felt his helmet (and head) to make sure neither was cracked.
"Why…what the hell…why aren't you fighting back, you bastard!" snarled Grimmjow, punching him directly in the face. It was merely a glancing blow though, as Ulquiorra twisted his wrist in a way that made Grimmjow yell out in agony.
"Why are you fighting?" muttered Ulquiorra, in a nearly pensive tone. "It's always the same result. You attack, I retaliate, you constantly end up with bruises and broken bones. You always lose."
"Not tonight," grinned Grimmjow, even as he was still gripped painfully.
With a sigh, Ulquiorra released him, to earn an incredulous what-the-hell-are-you-going-to-do-now look from the man above him. His expression was priceless-the fourth found himself struggling to hold back a smirk.
"You really aren't going to fight back?" asked Grimmjow in disbelief.
"Not tonight," came Ulquiorra's reply.
Grimmjow stared, perplexed for a moment, before his wild, roguish grin reappeared madder and broader than ever before.
"Well, in that case…" He raised his left arm, the hand curled into a fist.
"No, Grimmjow."
In a flash, Ulquiorra's hand was pressed against his cheek, cupping Grimmjow's face with deceptive gentleness. The Sexta froze completely, stunned both by how soft his superior's touch was, and by the pure power he felt in that palm. He didn't want to die yet, so he stayed perfectly still.
"Please, Grimmjow...Please."
Ohhh, I wonder what Ulqui wants with Grimmjow! :P I guess the few of you reading this do too! haha, well feed me some feedback, it'll prompt me to develop on this faster, and better! Thanks for reading!