"Stark, I have to go on this meet. Kawada is my connection."
"Aizen-sama does not want you leaving the house. Besides, you're a mess."
They were in Aizen's room. Stark was one of the few who'd been in their master's personal quarters but it had nothing to do with his rank and everything to do with being Grimmjow's watchdog and the closest thing he had to a friend. Grimmjow was in sweats and a tank on the couch, fiddling with the black cord of his necklace and trying to read papers Stark had brought to him concerning his deal with Kawada. His eyes were having trouble focussing on the words.
"You can't even read." Stark snatched the papers away. But he lost some of his sternness and passed the pages back to him. "Wait, can you read this?"
Grimmjow looked down. His head was already hurting just from holding a conversation. Trying to make sense of the small black characters was impossible.
"I'll be fine," he argued. Stark knelt before him and raised a hand to his face. He put his thumb under one eye and his forefinger above it. "What are you doing?"
"Checking something."
"You're not a doctor."
"No but I think you should see one."
"We can't go back there, we've gone too much already."
"Nakagawa is just skittish. I'll clear it with Aizen."
"He doesn't want me leaving the mansion."
"Why are you resisting this so much?"
Grimmjow stopped himself. He knew why. He wanted to know that Ichigo was alright, but he also didn't want to see him again. He didn't want to be reminded he might want something different from what he had.
"I just want to take care of business," he covered. "Kawada is my first big deal."
"I know. But it's my job to take care of you too. Don't fool yourself, Grimmjow. You're good at what you do out there: smart, slick—but if Aizen has to choose between your career as a bootlegger or keeping you breathing and in his bed, you know what he'll pick."
Grimmjow scowled. Having Stark talk to him like that made him feel like he was nothing more than a whore. He worked his ass off to get a deal with the northern syndicate Kawada ran. It had been clever and well played and the boys had to give it to him that he was just as worthy as them to run the streets. But he also knew they could never look at him as the same—as just one of the crew.
"Sorry." Stark put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll check with Aizen about taking you. We'll push the meet to next week if we can, but that's still no guarantee Aizen will let you handle it."
"Fine," Grimmjow growled and sank back in the couch.
Ichigo had picked up more hours than ever at the hospital. He swore to himself he'd done it to get through this portion of his practical faster, but he knew it was a lie. He was watching, all the time, for the blue haired man who had been gone without a trace since the incident.
So were the four men. Ichigo had been terrified they'd come for him, but when twenty-four hours passed without issue he thought he must have escaped unseen.
It was a relief, and yet, he was still stressed out. Because as far as he knew, they'd gotten the man they'd chased down. What if they had him somewhere, torturing him, and Ichigo was the only one who knew anything about it? He should have gone to the police, he knew that, but every covert conversation he'd overheard prevented him from doing so. He knew he'd tread into black waters here, and he needed to be careful. He also considered revealing what happened to Dr. Nakagawa, but decided against that too. He didn't seem too fond of taking on his extra client.
Ichigo still walked by his office every day. He included it in his route to the change rooms even though it was out of his way.
That's why he saw them enter from the far stairwell. He was in the middle of the hall flipping through notes he'd taken when he saw them. He froze when he saw Grimmjow, whose arm was slung over Stark's shoulder as he helped him walk. And blue eyes stared right back at him. Ichigo opened his mouth, but then Grimmjow gave the slightest shake of the head to indicate he shouldn't say anything. So he just turned back to his chart and kept walking. Stark didn't even give him a second glance.
He went up the stairs at the end of the hall, crossed back the way he'd come and descended again so that he was at the end of the hall closest to Nakagawa's door. It was shut of course, but from where he perched in the stairwell he could see when the doctor came out again. He returned a while later with a wheel chair and then out again with Grimmjow in it. He disappeared down the hall, Stark in tow. Ichigo went after them.
He followed just far enough to see they took him toward the imaging unit. Grimmjow must need x-rays, maybe even an MRI. That would be harder to cover up in the hospital log books. Nakagawa was in for big pay day or unemployment.
"It's me." Ichigo jumped at the voice. Stark had left the area and walked toward a window where he perched on the sill as he talked into his cell. His voice echoed low off the pane of glass but Ichigo could hear.
"Nakagawa says it's bad. He's gotta have a scan…yeah one of those. I don't know. Yeah, Nakagawa thinks he should stay overnight. Yeah, that's what I thought. Okay. Be back soon."
He closed his phone and shoved his hands in his pocket. He looked pissed. Maybe he was worried about Grimmjow and thought he should stay.
Nakagawa came out after a bit, exchanged words and left again. Shortly after Grimmjow staggered out. Stark caught him under the arm and steadied him. He leaned him back against the sill and went back into the room, presumably to get the wheel chair. Ichigo had just seconds. He moved quickly down the hall. If Stark came out, he'd just keep walking, but he needed to talk to Grimmjow.
"Hey," he hissed when he got near. Grimmjow had been sitting with his head resting against the window. He drew his fogged eyes down and stiffened. "Just, I need to know about the other night. Those men—"
"It's fine, they were taken care of."
Now Ichigo stiffened. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're safe. Now keep moving."
Ichigo didn't argue. He'd probably already pushed his luck so he continued on down the hall. A few seconds later he heard the door bang open as Stark came back out with the wheel chair.
"You're quiet," Stark commented when they were back in the house.
"My head hurts."
"Yeah, I know. But that's not what I mean."
Grimmjow looked sideways at him. "Just help me upstairs."
Grimmjow slept for much of the next few days. He never knew what the result of his brain scans were. That information went straight to Aizen. He just knew he felt like shit and realized how stupid he'd been to think he could meet with Kawada while he felt like this.
Aizen left him be. Grimmjow wondered what could have been on those scans for him to leave him alone for so long. Worse, he realized the more time passed without contact, he didn't miss it.
Finally came a day where he felt like he could walk without face planting. He showered and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. Since Aizen's house was also the base of operations for his illegal dealings, the kitchen was a popular common area, large and furnished with long tables and always stocked with food. Grimmjow grabbed a bowl and filled it with oatmeal still steaming on the pot. He looked around and saw Stark reading the paper while sipping coffee.
"What day is it?" Grimmjow asked when he sat, reading the back of the paper—happy he could read again.
"Friday."
"Damn."
"You feeling better?"
"Yeah."
"Good. We meet with Kawada tomorrow."
"Great. But what does that mean? No threat from Kane?"
"You kidding me?" Stark lowered his paper to look him straight on. "Aizen wiped them out."
"Oh." Kane's organization was small and unorganized. It didn't really surprise Grimmjow that he could have finished the job so quickly. "Good."
"Yes." Stark shook out the pages and stood. "Meet me at lunch and we'll go over the details of your deal with Kawada."
"Got it."
Grimmjow watched him leave. He dropped his bowl in the sink and headed outside. The morning was chill but fresh. He relished the feeling, like he'd finally woken up after a long sleep. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and then reached for his lighter but before he could bring it up the cigarette was plucked from him.
"Hey!"
"Doctor's orders." He calmed when he saw it was Aizen.
"Really?"
"Mhmm. But it's a disgusting habit anyway." He was in his suit, heading out to run his legit businesses with his assistant and security but he had no shame in bending down and grabbing Grimmjow by the back of his head, kissing him long and hard. "Rest up," he whispered. "I want to make up for lost time tonight."
He withdrew and the party left. Grimmjow watched them load into the black sedan and leave through the gate.
As soon as they were out of sight he pulled out another cigarette.
"Enough?" Aizen whispered into his back. Grimmjow nodded into his pillow. He'd had enough two rounds ago but he hadn't said anything. Aizen withdrew and kissed his shoulder before sitting back. He pulled the triangular pillow from beneath Grimmjow's hips and let him lay flat on the bed.
Grimmjow let out a long breath. He was spent, eyes already drooping. Aizen lay back beside him, dragging him over so his head rested against his chest. He held the pendant that Grimmjow always wore, turning the panther over and over in his hands.
"You feel alright?"
A nod. "Tired," he whispered.
"Good. Then sleep."
Grimmjow didn't need more prompting. In the morning, however, he came awake early. They had rolled over, Aizen's hands snug around his waist. He tried to go back to sleep but he couldn't. He was uncomfortable. He wanted to roll away, escape the suffocating hold.
Since when had it felt suffocating? Since when had he not craved it at the end of a long day?
He started to squirm. It woke Aizen and he felt relief thinking he could get up now but instead the other dragged him closer and rolled atop him.
"Morning." He smiled down with a look as lustful as the one last night. His hand slide down under the sheets and played down Grimmjow's stomach. He jolted at firm, fast friction. It wasn't long until he was moaning, hips bucking and Aizen moved in, kneeling astride him. It was quick and dirty but left them both panting. When it was done Aizen got up and showered. Grimmjow needed the time to get his legs working again. Then he took his turn in the shower and made his way down stairs.
He was sore all day. He scowled as he ate breakfast. He was sharp with Stark when they confirmed their plans for the day. He had three cigarettes before nine am.
He was pissed. And was even more pissed that he was pissed.
"I've just gotta get out of this fucking house," he finally blurted to Stark when they were in the lounge where Grimmjow spent his down time when not suffering from a concussion. He was in his favourite position, legs over one arm rest of the easy chair, head over the other and flicking through channels.
"Then get out. Go do something before you drive me crazy. Meet here at eight, okay?"
Grimmjow sat. "I'm allowed out?"
Stark shrugged. "Threat's eliminated. Go."
He didn't to say another word. Grimmjow was out the door in seconds.
It wasn't that he actually hated the mansion. He just couldn't stand to be cooped up in it for too long.
He hit the streets at once. He didn't take a car. He needed the exercise. He passed by high rises, knowing what kind of people occupied them on a Saturday morning—rich ones. He chuckled to himself. How the hell did someone like him end up set for life like this? What did Aizen ever see in him that he wanted? At that age, he was no different than any of the street kids.
He slowed down in the shopping district, scanning the area for an idea of what to do. He wished Stark didn't have to work all the time. He was glad Yammy did—he hated the fat bastard.
What to do, what to do…his eyes alighted on a group sitting around a stone table near a stall. They were eating pizza, laughing, carrying shopping bags. Among them, was Ichigo Kurosaki. It wasn't exactly a coincidence—this district was smack between the hospital and the university and all the people were university aged. This was the most popular area to come to on a Saturday morning to either nurse a hangover with greasy food or enjoy a leisurely day of shopping and eating with friends.
A girl with short dark hair sat beside Ichigo. Her rigid posture gave away that she was a fighter. She was tall too, based on her shoulders against Ichigo's. She was really quite beautiful.
Grimmjow wondered if given the chance, if he could ever love a woman. He thought maybe he could, maybe he'd want that. To her left was a woman of extraordinary proportions. Her breasts were modestly covered by a turtleneck but there was no hiding their size. But that wasn't what made her beautiful, Grimmjow thought. It was her bright eyes and smile, when he could see them—the wind kept whipping her exceptionally long hair in front of her face. Side by side, she and her friend could be supermodels. Maybe they were, maybe they were even a couple. But no, judging but the soft smile she gave Ichigo when he passed her another slice, she was not into girls.
Another pair were across from them. One definitely looked hung over, holding his mop of brown hair between his hands. Next to him a dark haired, slender young man sucked on a coke and stared around the crowd.
His eyes landed on Grimmjow. Grimmjow broke his gaze. He'd been caught staring at them. It was kind of embarrassing. The guy must have said something because next thing Ichigo looked up and saw him. He sort of froze. It wasn't fear or anything, it was just utter surprise. Grimmjow started to turn but Ichigo half raised his hand, as if telling him not to go. He stood up from the table and his friends. Grimmjow told himself to go, but his feet stayed put.
"Grimmjow," Ichigo greeted when he reached him.
Over his shoulder, Grimmjow could see his friends watching. They'd wonder who he was, how Ichigo knew him.
"Sorry," he said reactively. He seemed to be saying that a lot these days, for someone who made his living in the criminal underworld.
"It's okay." Ichigo didn't seem frightened or anything, despite what had happened the other day. "How are you?" His eyes turned up to the deep mark on his forehead. The bandage was gone now, but bad bruising remained and he'd been cut too.
"Better."
"It looks bad. Was that from the other night?"
"Yeah. Nightstick."
Ichigo's eyes went wide. "You're lucky you aren't dead."
"My thoughts exactly."
"So about that…"
"It's over, like I said. My…friends came and helped me out, put a scare in those guys. There's nothing to worry about." It was a lie, but Grimmjow didn't know how many conversations Ichigo had overheard. He didn't know that Ichigo knew he was connected with Aizen. And of course, Ichigo didn't want to admit how he'd spied on him several times, so he had to let it go. He got the message though—it was over.
"You kinda saved me back there," Grimmjow added. "I wasn't paying attention, had no idea they were coming at me."
"I just yelled."
"Still…hey, what about the one that went after you?"
"I hit him. He went down first punch."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Impressive."
Ichigo smiled. Then he controlled it and said seriously. "Why were they after you?"
"I can't say." Ichigo was a bit surprised he didn't have some smooth lie lined up. But then again, this was just as effective in stopping his questions.
"I understand. I'm glad you're doing alright."
"Yeah."
The awkwardness was growing. Ichigo didn't know what else to say but he didn't really want to end the conversation either. It was the first chance he'd gotten to just talk the man who'd so enthralled him since their meeting at the club.
Then Orihime saved him. He hadn't even noticed her approach but suddenly she was there, sticking out her hand to introduce herself to Grimmjow. Maybe she read their body language, or maybe it was just because she was a welcoming person, but her timing was perfect to ease the tension. Grimmjow shook her hand and gave his name.
Then she invited him to join them.
"We have plenty of extra."
Grimmjow was clearly taken aback by the offer. In fact, he seemed to have no idea how to the respond to the situation. Ichigo didn't know that since he was sixteen, Grimmjow hadn't had a single friend outside the organization and very few people close to his age. Ichigo didn't know that Grimmjow had never had friends, gone to a pizza shop and hung out all day with them.
"Yes," Ichigo insisted when Grimmjow still didn't say anything. "You should meet the others."
Grimmjow still never said yes, but Orihime bounded back to them and Ichigo started to move away as well. For a few more seconds, Grimmjow was still. Then slowly, as if he was still processing what was happening, he began to follow them.
Orihime made introductions. Grimmjow scanned the faces of Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro each in turn. The last stuck out his hand to shake Grimmjow's and then shoved Keigo to make room on the bench. Grimmjow stared at the space between Keigo and Ichigo.
He sat down.
"So, how do you know Ichigo?" Tatsuki asked. She was even more beautiful up close, and she had sharp, intelligent eyes.
"We met at the hospital," Ichigo answered for him. Perhaps he'd come up with this story in the time it had taken to cross the busy shopping area back to the table. "We had coffee in the cafeteria."
"Oh." Everyone's eyes alighted on the wound on Grimmjow's head but no one asked. Grimmjow said nothing.
"Here, have some." Mizuiro passed a plate before Grimmjow. He of course, had enjoyed pizza many times with Stark and Yammy in the lounge, though it wasn't refined enough for Aizen.
He chewed on it while they talked, watching them interact like they were another species. Is this what his life would have been like if he'd never met Aizen? Would he be carefree and cheerful like them?
"So what do you do?" Tatsuki asked after some time. "Do you go to the university?"
"No. I work."
"Where?"
"Security for one of Aizen-sama's import businesses." Now this was a well-rehearsed lie.
"Really? Sounds dangerous!" Orihime exclaimed.
"You must be a good fighter," Tatsuki added, an edge of a challenge in her voice.
"Or a good shooter," Mizuiro said.
"Is that how you got beat up?" Keigo asked without care for politeness. Ichigo shot him a look but Grimmjow just nodded. He'd forgotten some of the bruises from his fight with Aizen were still visible.
"Wow…maybe you should do something else that's not so scary." Orihime said.
Grimmjow looked at her. Something else? Like what? What would he do, if he could choose a different path?
It was pointless to think about. He let out a long breath and realized he hadn't made any response to her statement.
"I'm good at it," he said simply. They let it go. They remained for a while but then Tatsuki stretched and reminded them they had tickets to a movie. They invited Grimmjow but he declined. He watched them leave, but Ichigo told the others he'd catch up.
"Sorry if they're a bit much."
"It's fine."
"Are you…okay?"
Grimmjow looked at him. He didn't know the answer. He felt strange, like he'd just visited another world. Tonight, what would this group do? Would they go clubbing, would they go home and study, or just watch tv? Tonight, what would he do? He'd close a business deal for bootlegged goods in the sketchiest part of town with five armed men then he'd go home and have sex with a man fifteen years older than him who'd picked him up when he was under age.
Which was normal?
"Grimmjow?"
He'd done it again—spaced out, lost in his own thoughts because he spent so much time alone anyway.
"What?"
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"Okay. Well I better catch up. But hey, we come here every Saturday. Why don't you come next week?"
Grimmjow nodded. It wasn't a sure sign of anything really except that he heard. He stood.
"I have to go too. Later."
He melted into the crowd in seconds. Other customers hurried Ichigo from the table. He waited a minute or two, just in case Grimmjow came back, but he didn't.
He left after his friends, mind racing after the encounter. Once again he wished he could know who Grimmjow really was. Was he in trouble or did he make trouble? If he was in trouble, maybe Ichigo should have asked. He should have at least given him his number, offered him help. But if he made trouble this would likely piss him off. No, he thought he'd played it cool enough. He just hoped that in a week, Grimmjow would be back at their table.
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