Grimmjow was bordering on a headache. He wasn't quite drunk yet, but considered it, seeing as Ichigo's friends were some of the most annoying people he'd ever had the displeasure of being around. The only thing he could focus on was the food Ichigo had ordered, and getting a few more drinks. Some girl, an idiot with big tits, "Inoue" or something, had almost dropped her food on him, and it took a lot of Ichigo calming him down to end his cursing at her. It wasn't his fault she was a moron!
Most of the time, though, they would be reminiscing about things he'd have never involved himself with. Most of those things were during the time he'd worked for Aizen. Such a job yielded little freedom, and though he used to struggle with the concept of whether that was truly meant to be his life, he always recognized when he was in danger because of his boss's carelessness. Grimmjow had been molded into nothing more than muscle, nothing more than an expendable tool for Aizen to use to block his valuables from getting into the hands of others. Sure, from time to time, Aizen would sense Grimmjow's rare uneasiness and assure him of his value, but varied, dangerous incidents told the blue-haired man otherwise. Surely, Aizen would have let him die—of that, he was certain.
Now, Ichigo and these people were watching a movie. They'd turned out all the lights, and hooked up the surround sound, so as to give themselves the most scares. Bao and Inoue were nestled closest to Ichigo. While all of their eyes were glued to the screen in anxious, unblinking stares, Grimmjow pondered quietly. Why was she so close to him? They'd known each other for long enough, but she was practically on his lap. Couldn't she sit somewhere else? At his feet? On the cushion closest to him? Somewhere away from Kurosaki. He thought, eyes still held to her as he downed the last of what would be his last beer.
Something happened on-screen. Grimmjow didn't pay much attention—as a reminder both to himself and subconsciously to Ichigo, he was doing exactly what he'd be doing at his own home, and showed up to humor his coach. He kept his attention partial, and eyed Bao every now and then, peripherally. He watched her, and her alone as the jump-scare happened, to see what she looked like when frightened.
All of her movements were expected. She covered her eyes, hid behind Ichigo. Her legs were tucked up in front of her, taking up the rest of the cushion. The first thing she tended to do was have her hands close to her face, just in case it was too much.
Inoue simply clung to Ichigo, waiting for the worst to be over.
Once the movie returned to a more positive and daytime-oriented scene, Bao rose to walk to the kitchen, but Grimmjow stopped her, whistling once to get her attention. She turned and saw him beckon to her, with two fingers. Side-stepping those on the floor, she stopped a decent distance away from him, and quietly asked, "Yes, Grimmjow?" as simply, and as politely as she could. If he wanted to have any reason to dislike her, she wasn't going to give him one. If he wanted to complain to Ichigo about her, she wouldn't give him anything to say about her, besides her civil behavior toward him.
He reached over and held the two, empty bottles before her. He watched as she looked to what was in his hands, then at him, hesitantly taking the bottles before hurrying off to the kitchen. Grimmjow inhaled for a split second and leaned back in the recliner. She smelled of perfume, of some vanilla scent. Soaps. Girly shit.
And yet another thing he noticed. She'd said his name. He was so used to people saying it with disgust, distaste, frustration, hatred. Especially yelling it. He was used to his name bearing negativity. But she'd said it...gently. Almost kindly. He replayed her saying his name in his mind, both syllables shaping those soft, full lips. He felt mild disgust, yet wanted it to happen again.
She returned, and he kept his eyes off her. He wanted her out. He wanted her gone. He didn't want the change that came with her being Ichigo's right hand, and maybe that meant he'd have to do it himself. Once she sat down next to Ichigo, Grimmjow stood immediately, and headed to the bathroom. Beer didn't go through him fast at all, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. He hadn't felt his phone slip out of his pocket and onto the recliner.
As soon as Grimmjow left, Ichigo leaned back to make sure he was headed to the bathroom. Why else would he get up and go?
"Here." A male voice called, Renji tossing Grimmjow's phone into Ichigo's lap. "What am I supposed to do with it? Just leave it over there."
"Come on, take a picture or something!" Renji insisted, hoping to take some of the edge off Grimmjow's being there. "He hasn't spoken to anyone and he's ordered Bao around," Rukia started, leaning back on her hands from her place on the floor. "A picture isn't going to hurt. It might even help his mood. It's not our fault he doesn't know how to talk to us. Or at all." She continued.
Ichigo made a face. "Oh, he knows how to talk. I'm glad he's being quiet, actually. You guys wanna talk to him so bad, be my guests. But don't blame me if he pisses you off." Ichigo explained, with a shrug. He heard the familiar sound of a camera shutter, and found Bao to have taken a picture. One of herself, and one of her, and a distracted Ichigo.
"There," she spoke. "now he'll have one of both of us."
"To delete." Ichigo joked, as the group turned their attention back to the TV.
It got late, and a few of the others had work, or University to attend. They made their way out together, carpooling to get where they needed to go. Ichigo bid them farewell for the night, and returned to the now spacious couch, stretching with a loud yawn. Bao kept her place next to him, and Grimmjow stayed motionless on the recliner. The TV droned on for background noise, mostly so Ichigo wouldn't have to deal with the discomfort of the three merely sitting together in silence.
"How'd you like them, then, Grimmjow?"
"They're all annoying." Grimmjow muttered against his palm, elbow propped on the arm of the chair. He was moderately tired, one could see he'd been keeping his eyes closed for the rest of the night, in an attempt to relax. He was glad they were gone, and hoped that the headache he'd sustained would go away the following morning.
His eyes slowly opened, however, when Bao quietly mentioned she was ready to leave. Ichigo, understanding, stood as well. "How'd moving go?" He asked, leading her to the door. "Fine, fine, everything should be in place and I'll finish what's left of unboxing tomorrow. You should see it some time when you're free; to be honest, I've been waiting to show someone around," she admitted. Bao had recently moved into a nicer apartment than her last, and enjoyed being downtown and nearer to Ichigo and entertainment rather than in quiet, withdrawn neighborhoods.
"Sounds good," Ichigo responded, with a soft smile. Bao turned as Ichigo then held the door open for her. "Goodnight, Grimmjow. Get home safe, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Grimmjow didn't respond. He didn't blink, he merely stared that same, analyzing, unbroken stare upon seeing her embrace a slightly nervous Ichigo, and then take her leave. Ichigo closed the door. "So are you staying or what?"
"..."
"Grimmjow."
"What?"
"Are you staying the night or what?" He repeated, speaking as he cleaned up after his guests. Grimmjow paused again, and got up to walk to a nearby window, just in time to see Bao enter her car, a white Honda Civic. "Were does she live?" Grimmjow asked, answering Ichigo's question with a question, much to the latter's annoyance.
"How's it your business?"
"What's the address, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asked once more, turning to face his coach. Ichigo sighed, defeated. "Y'know, Grimmjow, what's the matter with you? You were eyeing her all night, and you wouldn't say a word to her. If you have some shit to say to her, say it to me." Ichigo demanded. The latter smiled a conniving smile, chuckling to himself as he stepped closer. "I don't have shit to say to her I could say to you, and you know that."
"She's seeing someone." Ichigo lied.
"Where is he then?" Grimmjow questioned. Ichigo remained silent. "Exactly." Grimmjow answered, heading for the door.
"She's there as a favor to me, Grimmjow. It's business between you and her. Leave it, and her, alone, or you'll be in some serious shit."
"Just tell me where. You want me to get used to her, I'll do that. I'm just going to talk to her."
Ichigo knew he would regret it in the morning. It was an uncomfortable thing, putting Bao's trust aside just to avoid Grimmjow's attitude, but he couldn't do it, and it wasn't like Grimmjow would be able to find her on his own, right? He willed down the urge to give in, and shook his head. "Go home. If you want to know so badly, just text her or call her or something. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."
"Ch'." Grimmjow scoffed. The blue-haired man roughly patted Ichigo's shoulder upon walking past him—all of this was a mere joke to him; at least, that's what he wanted to communicate. He didn't have to let Ichigo know exactly what he was thinking, but it was fun causing his trainer a little discomfort every now and again.
Ichigo sighed as Grimmjow slammed the door behind him, continued to clean up, and set an alarm for the morning.
Bao stretched, having showered and brushed her teeth. It was 1:45 AM, but she felt as tired as 4:00. Her apartment was simple, smaller than Ichigo's, but she'd made it as comfortable and personalized as she could. She had straightened her hair and forewent the satin cap she wore to bed, if only for the night. She wore only a black sleepshirt and socks, gold lettering diagonal across the front. She eased into her bed, the only light in the apartment coming from the lamp on her end table.
Her phone, kept on the charger on her nightstand, buzzed with a quiet, harp-like ringtone. An unknown number showed, but it was one in her area. She answered, tentatively, holding the phone with one hand and fiddling with the hem of her blanket with the other.
"Hello?"
"Woman," A low, smooth voice spoke into the receiver. "Where do you live?"
"Who is this?" She asked, unsure. It couldn't have been. There was no reason for it to be. Grimmjow? She supposed she had called him hours ago to get him to open the door of his home, it must have slipped her mind to save the number after receiving it from Ichigo.
"You know who it is. Kurosaki wouldn't tell me, so you do it. I'm a long way from home."
"Grimmjow," She started. He inhaled sharply. There she went again. Saying his name. How dare she make it sound so good. "You shouldn't be out this late, you need your rest or you won't be able to function tomorrow. I'm serious."
"I'm only going to ask one more time, and you should be grateful I'm asking." Grimmjow spoke. He'd already asked the question enough times without an answer, and he was trying to be somewhat civil with her while irritated at that fact. So now, he had pulled over so as to avoid further getting lost. A shiver ran down Bao's spine. His tone had totally changed. She'd never been so worried someone about someone coming to see her.
"Where do you live?"
Bao told him, scared of what he might do, and included the floor, and room number. The moment she did, he hung up. She let the three definitive beeps signal the end of the call before slowly putting the phone back onto the charger. She watched the clock, waiting for him to come to her. He had to have been joking. Maybe he was headed home? Maybe he was only saying that to get her to tell him? Maybe it was all part of his intimidation tactics? She made up numerous possibilities, but believed none of them. So she laid there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
Loud banging soon woke her from her drowsy state. Grimmjow had arrived, heedlessly pounding the side of his fist against her door. The Bao had realized what she had done, she hurriedly got up and briskly walked to the door, opening it slowly, to look up at his 6'1" frame. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he glowered at her shortly before making his way into her home. Their backs to each other and the door closing soon after, he spoke, his low voice breaking the silence.
"What are you to Kurosaki?" Just in case there's something that bastard's not telling me.
"I'm a friend. That's all, Grimmjow." He must have been threatened by someone else being close to Ichigo. At least, this is what Bao began to assume. "I'm sorry if I'm doing something wrong. I don't mean to make you upset, Ichigo just needed my help, and I wasn't doing anything and wanted to make a little more money, and I thought I could help you and..."
As she rambled on, apologizing for one thing after another, Grimmjow really only listened when she said his name. He hated what it did to him. Nothing in him made him want to admit that it felt nice to hear someone new, someone different say his name, but it was the distinct combination of worry for herself and for him that her tone carried that drew him in. She was something else entirely. And it got under his skin.
He turned and stepped closely behind her. Perhaps it was the warmth he was giving off that told her he was this close, but she trailed off, her apology ending, and quickly turned around, backed against the apartment door. He reached out and placed his forearm against it, leaning down and peering into her eyes, an even darker gray in so little light. Her lips, her goddamned lips were parted just slightly with surprise.
So easy to scare.
"Grimmjow, go home. Please." She wasn't asking, now. She was begging. He'd gotten what he wanted, to see her uncomfortable. To see her fidgeting and nervous because of him, directly. But as he was there, he found that that couldn't have been what he wanted. He wasn't getting what he thought he would out of it. She was pleading with him, not for the sake of, but because she didn't want this to happen. She was scared. Shaking. Her eyes seemed to water now.
Fuck.
He gave her one last look, and leaned back, letting his arm slide off the door. He stepped past her and opened it, leaving without a word.
Bao closed it afterward, but quickly and audibly locked it.
Grimmjow's hands turned to fists in his pockets as he left the building, hurriedly getting into his car—it was a moment before he even thought to start it, as something was different; something was off that he hadn't considered. What had he come to her for? Why was she crying? He didn't do anything. He didn't say anything. How did he make her cry?
It was an accident.