Title: I'll Be the Wings

Author's Note: This plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. And while I usually try to avoid anything that isn't a oneshot, this has been badgering me until I gave in. One of the first chapter fics I've ever done. Hopefully, I'll get off my lazy ass and actually finish this one, but who knows?

Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, any of the characters or even the title, as it belongs to the amazing Tite Kubo and the awesome band Mayday Parade respectively.

Warnings: This story will contain boy on boy action. You know, eventually. The rating is also subject to change, depending on how far I'm willing to embarrass myself and attempt to write smut. This story is unbeta-ed. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Ulquiorra Cifer lived a very organized, scheduled and predictable life.

He woke up at 6 am sharp, took a shower and was eating breakfast by 6:45. He would drive to school on the weekdays and work on the weekends, arrive by 7:00 give or take two or three minutes due to traffic.

At 2:36, he would drive home, fix himself a small snack and finish whatever work needed to be done for the day. At 6:30 pm, he would start the necessary preparations for a dinner for one. Afterwards, he would do some light reading until 9 o'clock, at which time he would promptly go to bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Some might call it boring, but Ulquiorra liked his life the way it was. He hated surprises of any sort and was thrown off by even the tiniest change in schedule. He believed in perfection and control over every aspect of his own life.

None of this explained why he was currently standing in front of a rundown nightclub with the dubious name of The Humping Dog at one in the morning on this particular freezing March night.

But Ulquiorra knew exactly who to blame. Oh, he knew who to blame alright. It was the same person who forcibly shoved his way into his quiet life, turned his world upside down and completely shattered his carefully constructed schedule like so much trash.

Yes, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Several months earlier…

There was moonlight stretching out across the endless sea of sand, a perpetual night that put one on edge and feel the latent power hiding in wait.

He strolled along, unbothered by such petty troubles. He knew he was the strongest thing out here and relished in the thrill of the predator hunting its prey.

He spotted one, not far to his left, foolishly straying further and further from its group. He circled slowly, feeling the feral smile that came unbidden to his lips. He watched carefully for any sign of alarm, but this one seemed to be especially stupid as it was still completely unaware and sniffing something in the sand…

He flexed his hands experimentally and slowly bent his legs. This was it…Just a little more…

With a snarl ripping past his lips, he launched forward, headed straight for the creature's-

RIIIINNNNGGG!

-and there was red, red everywhere and the screams of-

RIIIINNNNGGG!

-could feel the last breath gushing out of damaged-

RIIIINNNNGGG!

And Ulquiorra woke with a groan, the surprisingly pleasant dream quickly fading from memory, and stared at the mocking red numbers on his bedside table that proclaimed '2:06 am'.

Who the fuck called people at 2 in the morning?

RIIIINNNNGGG!

With a deft movement that belied his sleep fogged mind, he snatched the phone from its cradle and brought it to his ear.

"What. In the fucking hell. Do. You. Want?"

Let it never be said that Ulquiorra was a morning person.

"Hey. Hey. D'you knows what? Ya shound shexy."

Even over the phone he could practically smell the alcohol and just plain stupid wafting off this person in waves.

So he hung up. Problem solved. He gave himself a mental pat on the back and settled back in for a nice, uninterrupted rest.

Only for the phone to ring again.

Someone up there probably really hated him.

He picked up again.

"Why are you still calling me?"

He briefly considered that this might be a different caller, but the same drunken, male voice answered him.

"Hey shexy. Wassur name?"

He hung up. Like hell he was being hit on by some drunk pervert at two in the morning.

The phone rang. Again. He picked up. Again.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there was a much easier solution to this, but for the life of him right now, he couldn't figure it out.)

"Stop calling me."

"But I don'…don' know yur name. And yours so shexy, ya knows?"

"Stop. Calling. Me."

"'m gonna call you Shexy, m'kay? Yesh, yer name's Shexy now."

"Stop. Calling. Me."

"Ha! Saved yer nuber. Yer Shexy now. Wit' a h."

His nonexistent patience just about ran out and he slammed the phone down. Waited for the first ring. Picked it up and slammed it down again. About ten repetitions in, he dimly realized his phone was probably not going to ring again. Mainly because he smashed it to bits.

He had a feeling he wasn't going to be as happy about this in the morning, but all he cared about right now was that the phone had stopped ringing, that trash can't call him and there was a nice comfy pillow under his head. Yes, life was good. With a slightly inane smile, Ulquiorra finally drifted off.

That was December.

There are a few things one should know about Ulquiorra Cifer.

He is seventeen , currently a high school junior, had green eyes, black hair and a very distinct pair of permanent tear tracks running down his face. For a male, he was rather on the short side and he always dressed like he was going to an interview, neat and pressed.

He lived alone in a two bedroom, one bathroom house at the edge of the suburbs supported financially by an aunt and uncle that he rarely ever saw. On weekends, he worked at Hueco Mundo, a small bookstore owned by a friend of the family.

If he had time for friends in his very busy schedule, he probably wouldn't have bothered anyway, as he was a person who kept to himself and disliked any interaction involving other people. That was okay, as people rarely bothered with him either.

At school, he was the loner with good grades and an icy attitude that everyone tended to overlook. At work, he was the dutiful employee that didn't talk unless he had to.

His life was the definition of boring and routine, but he liked it that way. He was happy just as it was.

It was a few days after The Incident and, as absolutely nothing had changed, Ulquiorra decided the whole thing had just been a rather unfortunate dream. He ignored the smashed phone on his bedside table and reasoned that he must have mistaken it for his alarm clock in his sleep.

As stated before: not a morning person.

So he wrote the whole thing off and could've probably moved on quite happily with his life if his phone hadn't decided to ring one day at the slightly more reasonably time of 7:30 in the evening.

He eyed the phone warily for a minute before deciding that there was no way a person that far gone could've remembered his number or had the mind to actually save it onto his phone. He was just being paranoid, for sure.

"Hello?"

"…Holy shit, you're a dude."

Well. There goes that particular theory. This was really getting ridiculous. Things like this just didn't happen to him!

"The hell were you dong saved under the name 'Sexy'? I was hoping for a hot chick…"

…

This buffoon had the gall to disturb his rest with his drunken passes, make him break his phone, buy a new one, only to find that he called again to complain to him that he was not a girl! ?

"Listen here, you trash. You were the one who called me at two in the morning to harass me with your drunken ramblings. If you are raising complaints, I am most certainly not the one to be blamed. Now if you would excuse me-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," for a change, the person on the other line sounded something other than drunk and slow. Amazing feat for such a primitive mind, although anger really wasn't that far above the other two. "You blaming me for all this? The hell man?"

Ulquiorra was ashamed to say that his voice may have raised a few decibels. "Yes, I am blaming you, because you are clearly the one at fault!"

"Geez, quite bein' such a pansy. Wasn't even that biguva deal."

"Wasn't that big- You disrupted my rest!"

"'Disrupted my rest?' What are you, a friggin' mummy? Do the world a favor and take that pole out of yer ass, will ya?"

The ensuing…'conversation' has been selectively blocked from Ulquiorra's memories as it includes much name calling and childishness that he was quite frankly appalled at himself for sinking to such a level.

The call ended with that trash swearing to track him down and tear him limb from limb as soon as he figured out where he lived. As the line went dead, Ulquiorra realized it was nearly 9:30. His schedule was messed up. Again. He'd just wasted two hours of his life arguing with this imbecile. Where in the world had the time gone? He hoped that it was a local call or his phone bill would suffer.

Mechanically, he rose and prepared for bed, the familiar movements helping him unwind from the unexpected wretch in his plans.

It wasn't until he was almost asleep when it occurred to him that he could have just hung up.

The next day, Ulquiorra felt slightly…off. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why though, as it was by his standards, a perfectly normal day. He woke up, showered, ate breakfast and went to school. Sat in class, took notes, gave a speech (The Dangers of Global Warming, probably one of the most boring topics in history), went to the library, went home. A perfectly average day.

Then the phone rang. And something clicked.

Whatever was wrong with him, it was probably that trash's fault. That was also probably him. Calling. Again.

After staring at the phone ringing for a few more seconds, he picked it up. Ulquiorra prepared his mind for an intelligently worded battle of wits. At least, on his end. He certainly did not want a repeat of last time.

Preparation ready, he put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

It was a telemarketer. He felt oddly disappointed.

The remainder of the day dragged by slowly and his eyes seemed magnetically drawn to the phone every few minutes. When it hit 9:15 and it still didn't ring, he berated himself for being foolish and went to bed with that same oddly heavy feeling of disappointment.

The feeling persisted through the following day, until about lunchtime.

After biology class, Ulquiorra had gone to his locker to stow away his books. As it was, he got the weird feeling that someone was…following him? Unconsciously, his steps quickened before he regained his senses and told himself he was just being needlessly cautious.

Turned out he was wrong as an arm was suddenly right next to his ear and the impact echoed down the nearly empty hallway.

While this was a highly unusual situation, Ulquiorra wasn't unduly worried. Despite his vulnerable position with his back turned and his slender appearance, he was fairly confident that he could take care of himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't been bullied before. They had ended up in the hospital and he got two small bruises and a lecture from the principal. After that, his lunch money seemed to have lost its appeal. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking when he had hoped that even morons can learn by example.

Then there was a heated breath on his ear and a whisper of, "Hey Sexy."

And he figured he must have done something terrible in his previous life because what were the odds that this trash would call his phone number out of all the numbers out there, would actually save it onto his phone despite being drunk and even go to his school? Where was the logic in that? It seemed like a huge cosmic joke.

"Hm…ya know? Maybe I was right to call ya sexy…"

He fought the shiver moving down his spine as he felt those lips mouthing the words against his ear. Suddenly, he was aware of the heat radiating off another body, the chest nearly pressed into his back and his position, caged as he was. There was a dull roaring in his ears and his brain aborted all higher functions for thoughts of too close, too close, too close…

And then there was a half bent over body in front of him, spewing out curses and clutching his stomach, and his fist felt like it had just tried to punch its way through a brick wall.

"What the hell, you motherfucking sonuva bitch?

"Don't touch me."

Through shockingly blue bangs, equally blue eyes glared up at him and for a moment, he was swept away by the sheer force in that gaze. But he had and always will hold his own and really, trash should know its place.

"I'll kill you, ya stuck up prick!"

"Empty words, as I've already incapacitated you."

"Fuck you!"

How odd. He felt…better now.

There were very few things Ulquiorra knew about one Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez before their first official meeting. He was rarely ever at school, most probably did some kind of drug and had different girls for every night of the week. This Grimmjow apparently liked to get into fights (which he usually won) and had a very 'distinctive look', as one person had described it. And yet, for some reason he couldn't comprehend, people seemed to like him, adore him, kiss the ground he walked on (an exaggeration, but he was feeling somewhat miffed).

And when Ulquiorra looked down at a toned physique, teal colored hair and bright blue eyes, he could almost see it. Then he retrieved his brain from the black hole full of stupid that it had evidently been dumped into.

From then on, he affectionately dubbed this blue menace 'trash'.

It wasn't really a friendship, as far as Ulquiorra knew. But, as he had very little experience in this area, perhaps it was normal to call friends degrading names and fight constantly.

All he knew was, suddenly there was a very big, very blue and very annoying disturbance in his otherwise peaceful life that went by the name Grimmjow.

He wasn't really sure what to think.

At first, it was only fighting, to which he was proud to say he usually came out the victor. ("Oi, are ya stupid or something? My name is Grimmjow. Stop callin' me trash!" "I will if you, in turn, desist in calling me degrading nicknames." "What, ya mean 'sexy'? At least yours is a compliment!" "Perhaps for a girl. Or a whore." "What, ya tellin' me you ain't neither?" SMACK. "HA! Ya even hit like a girl!" "…die, trash.") This was…acceptable, if not exactly ideal. It did not interfere too badly with his routine. School was just a little more unpredictable than normal.

Then Jaegerjaquez stole his lunch and wouldn't give it back until he agreed to eat it with him. And between fending off invading chopsticks and moronic remarks, he realized with a sort of resignation that his monochrome life was changing and it was all his fault.

Things only got worse from there. Jaegerjaquez started seeking him out after school ("C'mon. We're going to a movie." "A movie? Why?" "'cause I said so, now get yer ass in here.") and shattering his concentration with a well placed phone call (knew he should have paid extra for caller ID). And to his horror, Ulquiorra found himself reciprocating, offering to tutor him in math (a terrible, terrible mistake that will never be talked about again) and actually smiling at one of Grimmjow's crude, dirty jokes (just once, and that was a temporarily lapse of judgment).

The nurse said there was nothing physically wrong with him. He chose not to believe her and chalked it up to stress and a minor case of delusional dementia. Or perhaps stupidity actually was contagious.

While unsettling, Ulquiorra decided that it was not that large of an issue. Jaegerjaquez could be dealt with accordingly with a few slight changes in schedule. After that, his life would resume its normal pace and that blue-eyed trash would cease to be a problem.

And then there was approximately 200 pounds of idiot on his doorstep late on Friday night, a small duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a grin fixed into place.

He flicked two fingers in a mock salute. "Yo."

Ulquiorra thought that sometimes, life kind of really, really sucked.

End Notes: Well, that's the end of chapter one. It was surprisingly easy to write this, so I hope that means I'll actually finish this story. Feedback will be appreciated. ^^

Edit: 10/7/10, changed some of the words around, mostly 'Grimmjow' to 'Jaegerjaquez'. Yes, I am doing this for a reason. :)