Hello, everyone~! Guess who's back. Back again. Kimiko's back. Tell a friend~. Okay, I'm done now. Anywho, I'm so sorry to everyone for not being able to update in so long. I swear, I didn't do that by choice. My computer kinda…up and said "FU loser" and refused to work anymore. But the good news…I got a brand new computer for an early Christmas present. You guys shoulda SEEN my happy dance. It was INTENSE.
Anyways….
The following story is the result of me watching Bleach and drinking nothing but over-sugared tea for two straight hours. That was A LOT of fuckin' tea. Also, yes, I KNOW I have the storyline slightly wrong. But that's okay. Because I have the powers of artistic liberty.
Warnings: Implied GAYMENZ. Some F-bombs get dropped, Szayel's a perv, Gin's….Gin….I think that's most of it. Oh, and it's pure crack.
Disclaimer: Yes, I own Bleach. It's the lavender scented kind. And it still smells like shit.
"Ulquiorra, welcome back. How did your mission go?" Aizen was, as always, sitting on his slightly over-sized and distinctly uncomfortable-looking throne. Grimmjow was, as always, torn between wondering if Aizen's gigantic furniture was some sort of compensation….and being utterly disgusted with himself for the thought. Usually, he managed to negotiate both at once.
Grimmjow shook the entertaining – yet still somewhat nauseating – thought away in time to hear the last bit of Ulquiorra's answer.
"-trash. Not even worth killing."
"Interesting. Please, show all of us what brough you to that conclusion."
"Certainly." Calmly, Ulquiorra lifted a hand to his left eye and pulled it out of the socket with a stomach-flipping pop noise before crushing it, sending sparkling dust across the room.
Interesting. Grimmjow had quite forgotten about that little talent of Ulquiorra's; but perhaps that was because he was too busy seeing Ulquiorra's more useful – and far less disgusting – talents.
No, wait.
Why the hell was he seeing those aforementioned talents? Wasn't he supposed to be seeing that orange-haired Soul Reaper runt? Not that he was complaining, of course. Not that he minded others seeing his naked body through Ulquiorra's eyes, either.
All the same, Grimmjow almost hoped it was his over-active imagination at work again.
But alas; a startled gasp from Hallibel, a groan of disgust from Aaroniero, a quiet 'hm' from Szayel, and an amused snicker from Gin later, Grimmjow knew beyond a shadow of a doubt – that was, if doubts had shadows – that everyone attending this damn meeting had just seen Ulquiorra's more useful talents first hand.
This did not bode well for our hero.
Well, villain, technically.
Details, details.
"What the fuck, Ulquiorra?" Yammi clawed at his eyes with his Hulk-sized hands.
Aizen stared at Ulquiorra with very, very wide eyes. Ulquiorra, despite his impeccably straight (ha!) posture and utter lack of expression still seemed as though he wanted to bolt from the room like a bat (again, ha!) out of hell.
"Nice, Ulquiorra. Real nice," Aaroniero responded sarcastically in his deep voice. "But I doubt your mission was to sex Grimmjow into next year," he finished with his hair-raising, rake-down-a-chalkboard voice.
"I second this," said Hallibel, sounding slightly ill. "Also, that was something I could have lived my whole life without seeing."
"Ulquiorra, explain," said Aizen, sounding the same way he always did – that was, like the over-confident, speech-spewing asshat hell'd had to spit back up – not for fear of him taking over. It was a bad case of indigestion.
Grimmjow was pleased to note, however, that Aizen's eyes were still very, very round.
And so it was, for the first time in recordable history, that Ulquiorra stuttered over his words. "G-Grimmjow and I have something of a s-sexual…relationship, Aizen-sama."
Under his breath, Gin muttered "Fuck buddies~," which summed the situation up quite nicely, all told.
"No shit, Sherlock! We wanna know why we all had to not only know about it – cuz that's bad enough – but we had to see Grimmjow's ugly ass naked!"
"What the fuck did you just-"
"THANK YOU, Nnoitra," Aizen interrupted Grimmjow's predictable outburst of curses. "Though crudely put, that is what I'm wondering, Ulquiorra."
Ulquiorra glanced up at Aizen, then dropped his eyes to stare at the ever-so-fascinating, pure whitest-of-white floor. "It was an accident," Ulquiorra started. "The…activities you've witnessed are…..fairly more recent than the mission. I mixed the times up."
"So you are admitting to not only your illicit relationship with a fellow Espada – a co-worker – but also to failing to follow my order to come straight to a mandatory meeting the moment you completed your mission?"
"….yes."
"You forgot one, Aizen-sama~!" Grimmjow raised his hand over his head and waved it around like the excited human child who knew the answer – or like Hermione, with more happiness – while a shit-eating grin of epic proportion stretched across his features. "Ulquiorra also admitted to making a mistake~!" At that, Ulquiorra leveled a glare at Grimmjow that would have melted lesser men into puddles of goo.
"Say, Aizen-taicho?" Gin asked, looking slightly more mischievous than usual. "Does this mean I get ta kill somethin'?"
"No, Gin. You don't get to kill anything." Indulgent.
"Maim?"
"No, Gin." Less than amused.
"Injure? Just a little bit?"
"No, damn it!" Annoyed.
"…ya suck all the fun outta bein' a villain, taicho."
"Thank you, Gin. Now let me interrogate my Espada."
"Fine, fun-sucker." With that, Gin went right back to being bored, though the mood in the room had lightened considerably. Even Ulquiorra had looked almost grateful for a tenth of a second.
"Now, Grimmjow," Aizen said as he turned to face the Espada in question. "You were informed about this meeting a week ago and given a reminder last night. Please explain why you decided to not only arrive later than Ulquiorra, but aided him in disobeying my orders."
Honestly, Grimmjow wanted to say that Aizen should really take a breath between sentences because he sounded retarded trying to boast the power of his seemingly-bottomless lungs. But Grimmjow didn't say that. Instead, he said: "Well, you saw it yourself. I think you know exactly why I 'aided him'." Grimmjow sent one long, suggestive leer to Ulquiorra, who cringed minutely. "Skills, I tell you. Skills."
"Grimmjow, shut up. Just….shut up." Nnoitra shuddered. "I really don't wanna know."
"Aw, you jealous, Nnoi? It's okay. I would be too." At this, Nnoitra covered his eyes – well, eye and eye-patch – with both hands and let out a groan that suggested mourning for a freshly-murdered portion of his soul.
After a moment of silence, Tousen spoke up. "Aizen-sama, may I have your permission to slaughter Grimmjow?"
"Don't start, Tousen. Gin used up what little patience I have." At Aizen's less-than-satisfactory answer, Tousen sent a glare at Gin. Rather, he tried, at least. Really, his glare was aimed at a spot on the wall some ten feet to the right of Gin.
At least he tried.
"That's it, Tousen. Ya tell that wall. Show it who's boss," Gin said with an ever-growing Cheshire cat smile. Obviously, Gin could never resist an open opportunity to publicly humiliate someone he felt deserved it, whether or not the object of humiliation would no doubt go on a Gin-genocide. Ginocide?
"Shut the hell up, Gin, or you're fired," Aizen said with a glare. This one actually hit its mark, though. Just for good measure, he sent a glare over to Tousen, on whom the effort was wasted.
No one spoke. No one moved. No one so much as breathed. Of course, Gin was the only one who didn't sense the tension or, just as likely, ignored it completely.
"Ya can't fire me, taicho. I'm a volunteer. 'Sides, ya couldn't replace me either, since none a' the other taichos woulda defected." Gin huffed and crossed his arms. "An' they won't now, cuz I'll tell 'em how borin' this place is."
Gin had barely finished speaking before the over-sized (see? It's either compensation or a fetish!) doors creaked open to admit an unnamed hollow, whose steps click-clacked on the polished marble.
"Aizen-sama, the human female has requested that she be allowed to speak with you." The hollow bent into a bow until the back of his neck was fully visible to Aizen.
"Hey, you don't wanna bend over in here. Ulquiorra might take advantage of the position to violate your virgin ass." In response, the hollow snapped his spine straight and stared at Nnoitra as though he'd suddenly sprouted dozens of rainbow daises from either ear. Slowly, the hollow looked over his shoulder at Ulquiorra with a mix of curiosity, slight disbelief, and modicum of actual fear.
"Right," Aizen said. "I'll go speak with Orihime now." Aizen rose from his throne, straightening imaginary wrinkles from his clothing as he stood.
"What about the meetin'?" Gin had to ask.
"Between the sex-crazed Espada, Tousen's constant bitching, and you in general, Gin, I'd rather talk to a ditsy human female. The conversation might be slightly more intelligent."
Aizen swept out of the room, leaving silence in his wake.
As soon as the door was fully closed, Grimmjow spoke up. "HA! No one likes you, Gin!"
"At least I don't show Aizen my sexual adventures."
"Dude, that was Ulquiorra."
"Oh, right. Of course." Gin cleared his throat and stood a little taller. "At least my fuck buddy don't show my sexual adventures ta Aizen."
No one could say Gin wasn't willing to compromise.
Grimmjow nodded his approval. "Much better."
"Grimmjow! Shut up or I'll blow your balls off!" Ulquiorra's eyes held a momentary blaze of rage and his clenched fists shook at his sides; which must've been an odd sight for everyone – excluding Grimmjow – considering the only two expressions they'd ever seen on the Espada's face: stoic and more stoic.
"I'm sure you will, Ulquiorra. I'm sure you will."
"And then there was silence. There was a lot of silence. There was a metric shit ton of silence.
Szayel coughed quietly, about thirty seconds later. "Would you two mind re-enacting that sex scene for me?" There was a slight pause. "For science, of course." The accompanying smile Szayel wore was probably meant to be pleasant, but instead, came off as creepy. The-shit-nightmares-run-from creepy. But before Grimmjow could reply – whether the reply in question would be to Szayel's inquiry or to the creep-tastic smile was anyone's guess – Nnoitra opened his big mouth. Again.
"Never woulda guessed you were a fag, Grim." Despite the fact that Nnoitra had looked utterly disgusted a mere two minutes ago, he now looked like he was trying desperately to hold back laughter. Trying, yes. But failing. "I guessed Ulquiorra was, though. What the hell kinda straight man wears that much make-up?" Nnoitra guffawed at his own lame joke.
"Grimmjow snorted. "The same kind, I assume, that gets his number tattooed onto his tongue. Kinda like those gay human males that get their tongues pierced just so they can wear a vibrating tongue ring." Grimmjow's grin widened as Nnoitra seethed. "I know exactly what you want for Christmas now, don't I?"
"I don't need you to defend me Grimmjow. So don't." As always, Ulquiorra was a right ray of sunshine.
NOT.
"Better listen to yer bitch, kitty," Nnoitra said with a sneer.
Ulquiorra's incredulous "Excuse me, 'bitch'?" mixed with Grimmjow's "Who the hell're you callin' kitty, spoon head?" Half a second later, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra aimed their respective red and green Ceros at Nnoitra and prepared to deck the halls with his entrails. Before Santa could come to town, however, Tousen (wet blanket!) stepped in.
"You're an evil army of darkness! Stop acting like petulant children!" At that, Gin looked a bit put-out. Perhaps it was because he himself acted like a petulant child with admirable – and alarming – consistency. Or, perhaps, like almost everyone else in Las Noches, Gin just wanted to see someone get their fat head ripped right the hell off.
"And I shall inform Aizen-sama that both of you need The Talk." Tousen continued, sounding slightly more haughty than usual – which was a feat all by itself.
"Don't you think it's a little late for that, Tousen? We obviously already know what goes where and what feels good," Grimmjow said, sounding more than a little like a parent who'd been forced to be indulgent with their child's never-ending questions.
"Yes, that is obvious. I was going to suggest The Talk as your punishment. You'll never be late to a meeting again."
"…shit," was the most eloquent response Grimmjow could muster.
And that summed it all up pretty nicely.
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