Grimmjow grunted, thrusting at Ichigo with his sword. They'd been going at it for over an hour now. Ichigo swiped back with his own weapon, groaning as the two collided.
There was a pause. They stared into each other's eyes intensely.
Someone coughed faintly in the back.
Ichigo sighed. "Yeah, this isn't working." He sheathed his blade and took a step away, rubbing at his wrist.
The bubble-gum haired male's eyes glinted for a moment, before he slid his own sword away. "That bum wrist of yers playing up again, ain't it." His eyes turned teasing. "Too much of the ol' back and forth, ey?"
He motioned in a vaguely inappropriate manner. Ichigo flipped him off-or at least tried- because he abruptly winced midway, arm jerking a bit.
It was a careless, instinctive movement. But after their sword fight, he was tired and the old injury was hurting more than he'd let on. And the blue haired male pounced.
He was across the room in a flash. "Oy." He didn't need words to express his displeasure. Ichigo gave him a sheepish look, quietly offering his pained wrist.
Grimmjow pulled a strip of bandages from god knows where, and began to wrap it.
He started with a tender kiss to the bruised skin, and ended it on the others lips.
After that, there was another sword fight, of a different kind.