Beautiful Stranger;
A GrimmUlqui Yaoi Fan Fiction.
Ulquiorra lied flat on his bed, staring up at his slim hand. It was the first time he ever held hands with someone, and it felt really weird. He had been home for an hour now, meaning the bastard named Grimmjow had been gone also for a whole hour, and yet he could still feel those fingers wrapped around his. His hand still felt so warm. Why must he lose his firsts to this stranger? First his kiss, then his first date, and now this...
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
His face suddenly flushed red. Is he going to think of the bastard now, too? Taking a pillow from his side, he threw it out of his room to relieve some tension. He didn't need to worry about hitting things with them anymore, he had long moved his furniture away from that part. He had already lost enough vases and frames. But if this goes on, just how many more would he lose to this one?
He fished out the bag of pictures from his pockets and took them out, spreading them to his bed. He looked at them one by one and realized that they were the ones taken from the very first time that they met. No wonder the man had the time to develop them, because the deleting happened the day after. He sighed. The moron got him there, but he swore he was never going to let it happen again. Besides, he didn't have anymore reason to meet the guy. Grimmjow didn't have any more pictures of him and he made sure that his address was kept a secret, too. Suddenly, he felt better. Things were going to go back to normal tomorrow, and damn, was he going to be happy.
His phone started to ring. Ulquiorra rolled to his side and reached to his bedside table, realization suddenly hitting of who might be calling at this ungodly hour. He shot up, getting a bad feeling about it, and snatched his flip phone. When he looked at the tiny screen in front, he groaned, but still he answered it.
"Hey, beautiful."
xxx
"The solution for this is..." Ulquiorra went on, writing sorts of variables and ranges of number in connection with said problem. When he finished writing, he turned around, encircling the final answer. He looked at each of his student's faces and tried to determine if he was understood. Some did, mostly the ones sitting in front, but majority had their brows knotted like ropes. He sighed, turning back to the board one more time, and wrote another set of Math problems... then his phone started to ring.
He turned around, laying the piece of chalk down, and checked his phone. Seeing that it was, again, the infamous Grimmjow, he changed his cell phone profile into silent and left it alone. He twisted back to the board and resumed the class. Time dragged on, and so was the incessant sound of his phone shaking against the wooden table.
"Sensei," one student called, pointing at the still vibrating device. "Your phone is..."
The long bar of chalk broke into two pieces, Ulquiorra's green eyes twitching at the same time. He turned around, putting down the now broken chalk as gently as he could, and picked up his phone. He didn't flip it open, though, and instead, walked to the window and threw it out, breaking the window glass in the process.
He turned back to the board and continued writing, ignoring the gaping faces of his whole class. A few more minutes, then he deemed it was enough torture for him. He erased all his writing on the board and replaced them with at least five problems. "Board work." Ulquiorra stated before turning to face his class to call a representative.
At the very back of the class, one hand was raised up. Seeing this, Ulquiorra mindlessly nodded at the student, calling him over, and turned back to writing more problems on the board. He handed the boy another piece of chalk without looking away from what he was doing, and patiently waited until the student stopped scribbling beside him and returned the chalk, but then...
"You look sexy in that shirt, sensei." A familiar voice breathed on his ear, making Ulquiorra whip his head to the side and meet a pair of blue eyes with a matching maniacal grin. Then just a second after, he felt a hand by his butt, firmly squeezing a plump cheek. "But I bet you're sexier without it."
xxx
"Hey!" Grimmjow called out, running after the fuming raven-haired professor as he cupped his swollen cheek. He was barely able to follow the man since his left eye was slightly blurred by his puffy face injury, and the fact that he was in an unfamiliar place was of no help either. He grunted, taking another corner he hoped that was the same turn that the smaller one took. Fortunately enough, there was that fluttering white coat by the end of the hall. "Hey, beautiful!"
"Don't call me that." He replied coldly, walking even faster as he found out that the bane of his existence was closer than he was comfortable with. What Grimmjow did was totally unforgivable. Ulquiorra was sure that his whole class saw what the mentally challenged photographer did and the way his light complexion turned beet red. He felt like he didn't have the face to see any of his students again, and he was sure that sooner or later, he won't be even able to see anyone at all.
"Wait for me, dammit!" He grunted, sprinting towards him. "Where are you off to, anyway?"
"...away from you." Ulquiorra firmly replied before shutting the door behind him and took the flight of stairs down the hall. It was lucky for him that the class that Grimmjow ruined was the last for the day, and somehow he was thankful but still... Now, he didn't know what to do. Surely everyone would think he was gay and for everyone's taking. He flushed red in anger at the thought, and turned to hit the presence just behind him by reflex.
"Take it easy, baby." The blue-haired photographer caught the flying fist with his free hand, "I already said I was sorry."
"Do you seriously think that apologizing would change anything?" He said venomously, his fists clenching tighter and his teeth grinding. His emerald eyes sent off daggers, and if he didn't know any better, perhaps he would even think that they were burning. He really was pissed off, and to think that he was losing his cool over the same person who stole a lot of his firsts was making him even angrier. Ulquiorra threw his other fist, making sure that he gave it more strength and that it would hit Grimmjow's face. To his satisfaction, it did... but only because Grimmjow let it hit him or so it appeared.
Grimmjow's blue eyes turned to meet his rather regretfully.
"I'm really sorry."
He felt something rush inside him as he heard the blue-haired photographer say those words gently and perhaps solemnly, but he just couldn't let it change his mind. His name was at stake, for goodness' sake! He withdrew his fists, glaring at the man one last time, and then jumped to the other set of stairs.
"Don't follow me." He muttered before running off, but Grimmjow wasn't really one to listen.
Ulquiorra was now out of the streets, hands in his coat pockets and was trying to calm himself down. He breathed out, his eyes closed, and continued his walk down the road. He was starting to feel even just a little bit better; at least there was an improvement.
"Hey,"
A hand came to his shoulder, forcing him to turn. At the sight of blue hair, he immediately scowled and lost the progress in calming himself down. "I thought I told you to—" but as soon as it came back, it vanished once more. Ulquiorra was shocked beyond belief and was lost for words.
Why?
"I'm really sorry."
Because there was the annoying Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, in the middle of the street... down to his hands and knees like a traditional housewife greeting her visitors.
"I wasn't thinking."
People began to gather around, and only by this time did Ulquiorra managed to get back to his senses. He blushed furiously, his heart beating violently in his chest, and ran towards the kneeling and begging Grimmjow. "Get up, you idiot!" He said, tapping the man's back nervously as he felt all the world's eyes at him.
"Please, forgive me."
"Okay, okay! I forgive you!" Ulquiorra blushed even more if it was even possible, and then took the other man's hand in his and ran away. He was still nervous and scared. All those people that gathered were giving him weird looks and were even whispering even weirder things! He swore he was never going to go through that street again, especially when he was with the inconsiderate bastard. "I swear, Jaegerjaquez, the next time you—"
Grimmjow pulled back, stopping the smaller one from moving at the same time. "You remembered my name."
"Of course," he yanked his hand away and halfway turned, "You are one person who is definitely hard to forget."
"You're flattering me."
"Oh? Then I pity you... you who can not distinguish an insult from a flattery."
"I'm remembered, that's all that matters."
Ulquiorra slightly turned, gazing at those blue eyes that were seemingly peaceful and devoid of any malicious emotion. "Has it been your prime purpose in annoying me?"
"Kinda." The blue-haired photographer raised his arms and crossed them behind his head, looking up, "Are you going to invite me in, now?"
Huh? Ulquiorra sharply turned, and to his surprise, there was his house based in front of him. He gaped. He must've headed home unconsciously in search for security from all those stranger's eyes and voices. Was he this much frightened? That he wasn't able to control himself from running back here? Oh, God... now the bastard knows where he lives! But no, he was not going to lose this fight. He would get rid of the annoying idiot in one way or another.
"Invite you?" Ulquiorra frowned, "Don't you wish... and I am still angry at you. If you think that making such a pathetic scene like that in the middle of the street to gain my forgiveness would work, then I have all the right to be even angrier at you."
"But—"
"Get lost." He growled and turned to get back into his house, hurriedly locking the door behind him. He sighed, his back pressed against the wooden door.
Hours came and went, the feuding of orange and deep blue for the sky now done and over with, but the irritating scratches, knocks, callings, and wails from outside Ulquiorra's door seemed to be still far from over. Ulquiorra had locked himself inside in his office, two rooms away from his living room, but the sounds still reached him and it was keeping him from doing his work. He hated noise... but he hated Grimmjow more.
"Open uuuuuuuupp..." the bastard moaned, "I said I was sooooooooorrry!"
Was the guy really older than him? Why did this suddenly make Ulquiorra feel like he locked out his wife?
...Or a cat.
He sighed, rubbing his aching head in circles. Just how much noise can one man make? Grimmjow was totally unbelievable, and the fact that he was twenty-seven years old, which means he should be more mature than Ulquiorra, made things even more ridiculous and irritating. If getting older meant this, then Ulquiorra was sure he'd rather die now. He didn't want to be a humiliation.
He sat up, knowing that the noise wouldn't permit him to do his work any further, and headed to his kitchen for a coffee break. He rummaged through his cupboards and took out his favorite cup and brewed coffee. He laid it down on an island and sat on a black rotating stool. As he began his preparation, something caught his attention. At the corner of his eyes, he saw light split the dark sky, signaling an impending storm.
Ulquiorra walked to the window with the well-prepared cup at hand and looked up to the sky where clouds began to dance and feud for space with the rumbling of thunders and streaking of lightning bolts. It was going to be a strong storm, it seemed.
xxx
He stirred—the warmth of a new day's light caressing his skin. Ulquiorra groaned awake, blinking his eyes to adjust his emerald eyes to the strain, and sat up. He looked around his room and found it exactly how he left it before he slept, but something kept on tugging at the back of his mind that he had forgotten one thing. Or perhaps this was simply an effect of the coffee he drank? Maybe he had too much.
He shuffled for his comfy slippers and groggily walked to the kitchen for some breakfast. He plopped his face against the kitchen island and closed his eyes, groaning. He was never a morning person, although he always tried to be. For him it was kind of embarrassing for a person as committed as he was to be this lazy every morning, but he couldn't help it. He loved sunsets, nights, coffee, books, bubble baths, and so many things. Mornings just doesn't fit to the unending list.
He did his hardest to straighten himself on his seat, but his eyes just kept on closing. He propped an arm up and supported himself dazedly as he let his eyes rest for a little while longer. Later, he found the motivation to move and have breakfast. Afterwards, he took a long, warm bath which almost lulled him back to sleep, but he knew better than to skip a workday just because he didn't feel like leaving the safety confines of his house.
Ulquiorra continued to prepare, dressing up just as dignified as everyone else thought he was, and filed his students' papers he finished checking yesterday. He checked his keys, and then headed to his door, but once he opened it, he was greeted by a big surprise. And by big, it meant really biiiig. Big enough to block his door path, and it was irritating him.
"What are you doing here?" he growled threateningly, his day already ruined so early in the morning.
Said man didn't reply... didn't even budge. Was this some kind of another trick? Ulquiorra hoped not. He bent down and peeked at the face of the wordless photographer, and found out that the man was asleep... and was kind of pale and messed up. He tried to wake him up, shaking the large obstruction a bit cautiously.
"Wake up." He said almost gently, "You'll get sick out here."
Grimmjow finally woke up, blinking his puffy half-opened eyes, and looked around. He smiled immediately when he caught sight of Ulquiorra, but it wasn't one of those malevolent smirks. It was something most likely that went with sweet morning greetings.
"I'm really sorry." The photographer weakly said. "Do you still hate me?"
"Yes, I still hate you." Ulquiorra replied emotionlessly, but pressed a hand against the photographer's forehead and found it mismatching Grimmjow's body temperature. "You're sick."
"Yeah, well," he groaned, closing his eyes. "Many say that."
Ulquiorra sighed, shaking his head. "I meant you have a fever. Come inside."
"Thanks." The blue-haired stood up weakly with all the strength that was left, but wobbled after taking two or three steps towards the warmth radiating from Ulquiorra's house. He tripped, falling over the pale man and losing consciousness.
"J-Jaegerjaquez!" he flushed red, perhaps as red as the sick Grimmjow was, and desperately scrambled away from the unconscious man. His heart raced, the pumping of his heart reaching his ears. The contact was unintentional, but what was this strange rush of emotions inside him? It was fear, he supposed.
Ulquiorra sighed, already calmed down, and stood back up to collect Grimmjow in his arms. The man was heavy, but not as heavy as he thought he would be with all those muscles... not that he adored them. The raven-haired laid the other man to the nearby couch, and bent down to check the temperature again.
"Just what were you thinking sleeping outside with the weather that bad?" he asked, but not really anticipating any answer. He remembered his thoughts last night, him comparing Grimmjow to a pet being punished for ruining furniture while he was gone. He smiled, gliding his hand through the smooth expanse of skin from the warm forehead down to the freezing cheek.
Soon, he caught himself.
What am I doing?
Ulquiorra marched away, scowling. He must've also caught a fever through the night, but before worrying about himself, he decided it was better to worry about Grimmjow first. He collected a small pail and a towel, pouring warm water and soaking the piece of cloth with it. He walked back to his living room and began wiping the freezing body with the warm towel. Afterwards, he took Grimmjow's shirt off and exchanged it with something he found on his closet which he hoped would fit the man just right.
He sat back, contented with everything he did.
Stupid idiot.
Ulquiorra shook his head. This kind of attention was just new to him, that's all. Maybe he was happy with it, that much he could accept, but there was nothing more. Grimmjow just wasn't as bad as he appeared to be, or at least he's not as unlikable when he was asleep.
One last time, he checked the unconscious photographer's temperature and replaced the roll of warmth on Grimmjow's forehead. He dipped it one last time to the lukewarm water and returned it. Ulquiorra stood up to get a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled down and took one of his spare keys out. He folded the letter he wrote with the key and laid it the center table next to the couch were the man was asleep.
xxx
Jaegerjaquez.
I made you some soup. I hope it's still warm. I am also granting you access to the fridge, but leave a note of the things that you will take. I also left you some medicine to take on the kitchen counter with further instructions. I replaced your shirt last night, I hope you don't mind. I also left some clothes on the bathroom if you wish to take a bath before leaving. Lastly, I leave you this spare key. Leave it on the mailbox when you leave. Please.
Seriously, return it. But other than the key, you are free to keep whatever it is that you will take... especially the food. Please, don't throw up on my floor. If you are still unwell, do not force yourself to leave. I will understand.
I repeat: return the key.
Grimmjow smirked, refolding the small piece of paper and slid it inside his pocket. He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked around. He took every inch of the house in, there was no telling when the next time would be or if there would even be a next time. The house was simple, colored cream and wood brown. Neat pictures and paintings were adorning the plain walls while the floor was mostly occupied by high vases filled with different kind of plants and flowers. He stood up and explored further only to find lots more of what was already to be found in the living room.
He kept walking around the house until he met a closed door. He twisted the knob but found it locked. He raised his head and stared at the door, wondering why it was the only door in the house that was locked. Perhaps it was the storage room? But why didn't it feel like it was the storage? Grimmjow blinked, noticing a paper taped on the door. He peeled it off and unfolded it, and it said:
Stay out, Jaegerjaquez. I'm warning you.
He snickered, realizing what was truly behind the door, but he knew better than to challenge the man's temper and walked away. Pulling out the letter from his back pocket, he was reminded of his granted access to the fridge and the food that was prepared for him. He sniffed, catching a faint fragrance of something appetizing. He started to hope that it was, indeed, still warm.
Now full and well, Grimmjow decided to take the bath that the owner of the house offered to him. He wandered around searching for the blasted bathroom which seemed to be rather good in hiding itself. He scowled. He realized he was going in circles. The house didn't seem big, but why did it suddenly feel like it was? And why did everything suddenly appear to come to life? Everything was moving, even the walls were moving. Did he fell into a wormhole or something?
Grimmjow clutched his head, screwing his eyes shut. Ah, maybe it was the fever. He remembered once more what was written in the letter and the medicine Ulquiorra left for him to take. He staggered towards the kitchen, or where he remembered it was located at. To his relief, he was going the right way. He walked to the counters and leaned down on it, laying his head against the cold marble for a while before taking the medicine dryly.
A few minutes later, the headache died down. The medicine worked fast, but Grimmjow wished it could work even faster and get rid of his dizziness. Really, what did he do to deserve this? But still, he knew he was lucky that he didn't die outside freezing from the cruel weather... even luckier that he had his beautiful goddess to let him inside the house.
He lifted his head, raising a hand on his neck and felt for his pulse and temperature. His blood pressure seemed normal, but he still felt kind of hot and strangely high. He wobbled back to the living room, throwing himself back on the couch, and drifted back to sleep.
xxx
Ulquiorra walked inside his house, closing the door behind him. He gazed around although he saw nothing but the darkness. His day was rather weird, there was no one ruining it for him except for the morning when he realized that Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had cooped exactly at his doorstep. He extended his hand to his left, feeling for the light switch and turned it on. The lights flicked on, revealing to him a shivering form which embraced itself.
"H-h-hey," the paled photographer greeted through his clashing teeth, "S-s-sorry I c-c-c-c—aahh, s-s-s-shit!"
The skies suddenly lit up, blinding the whole world with that streak of lightening, and then the rumbling followed... cutting out the electricity up to the farthest house Grimmjow's eyes could see through the open window. He badly wanted to take back what he said earlier about him being lucky. He was getting fucked pretty bad by what he thought was just a simple fever with cold, but now he was feeling like he was going to die and there weren't anymore electricity to top that up.
Suddenly, a foreign weight fell down to his lower limbs. He felt something going around his waist and it was warm, really warm and good against his freezing skin. However, it was making him uncomfortable and the fact that it was getting tighter and tighter wasn't helping him relax in anyway.
"H-hey, i-is tha-at y-you?" Grimmjow asked, stretching out his hands to feel out the mysterious bear. He slowly lowered his hands, still searching for the source of his waist's torture. Soon, he felt warm skin against his palm. It wasn't comfortably warm, but it was less cold than his own. "A-are you... oka-ay?"
Ulquiorra did not answer.
"Y-you're s-squishing m-me. L-loosen u-up."
Grimmjow started struggling despite the awful pounding in his head. It was really uncomfortable, far too uncomfortable to bear, and it was making his fever worse. He started to feel even colder when he tensed his muscles to move. Later, he gave up, the man holding his waist did not even budge when he gathered all his strength to break free. Getting down with a fever sure was shit.
He sighed, giving up, and leaned back to the couch.
"Jaegerjaquez..." the weight on his thighs suddenly disappeared, but the tight hold on his body was still there. Grimmjow just stared at where he assumed to be the one he was speaking to and kept still until the other decided to resume his speech, but that time did not come. What did, though, were strong tugs at his shirt until they were off. Although he was still feeling sick, Grimmjow began to struggle once again. He was sick, everything was so fucked up, and he was freezing... now Ulquiorra was taking of his shirt! The photographer started to think of the many things that this could mean, but everything kept on falling into one conclusion and that was they were going to... oh, god! Right now?!
"N-now i-isn't a g-good t-time t-to—"
The warm weight suddenly went back to him, the soothing temperature now covering his whole chest and the arms that once held his waist was now around his neck.
"I'm scared."
"H-huh?"
"I'm scared of the dark."
xxx
Ulquiorra stirred awake, groaning and blinking his eyes until they adjusted to the day's bright sunshine. He raised his hand to his lips and yawned, still feeling the need to sleep more than the urgency of work. Still, he knew better than to laze around. He sat up... and realized he couldn't sit up. He blinked, realizing that there was a large expanse of chest before his face and a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. He looked down at himself and realized... he was shirtless too.
He screamed.
"You bastard!"
Grimmjow scrambled his way towards the front door in fears of having smashed like a bug by the furious Ulquiorra. He had received a fair share of blows when the man was in total control of himself, and it hurt like hell! He didn't need to know anymore how strong the man could hit when he was delirious. He still wanted to live!
"Fuck!" The photographer tripped, falling face down to the ground. He tried to recover quickly, but being punched to consciousness wasn't exactly a good wake up call. It made his head spin and his limbs rather weak. He twisted around and looked up at the infuriated pale man and brought his hands up in defense, "I-it's not what you think!"
"What's not, Jaegerjaquez?! What's not true with what I think?!"
"Everything!" He hastily stood up, stretching out his arms to keep the furious Ulquiorra in a safe distance from him. "So, just stop bitching for a moment and hear me out!"
"Who are you calling a bitch, Jaegerjaquez?!"
Oops...
FEN: I wonder if Grimmjow would be able to live through this? Hmmm... What do you think? XD
