Light
In the light, Grimmjow was different. The weak artificial sunlight made his hair glow almost white, and his skin looked pale and smooth, marred by the one large scar from shoulder to hip. At dawn, Grimmjow looked like an angel, for lack of a better word.
When his face wasn't twisted in a scowl or a grin, it was surprisingly 'pretty'. Ulquiorra, as much as he would never admit it, liked waking up early just to watch Grimmjow as the sun crept up and warmed his skin, touched his face, made him groan and curl deeper into the darkness of Ulquiorra's arms.
The best moments were when Grimmjow opened his eyes, mind still clogged with sleep, and gave him the tiniest smile with the soft mumble of "good morning." that was Grimmjow at his most polite, a moment Ulquiorra would always savor.
Owari