Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material.

Tell Yourself

By: Princess Kitty1

Bad Hair Day

Orihime bit down on her lower lip to keep the bubbling giggles from surfacing from her stomach. He had fallen asleep again – how cute! She was no longer quite as amazed as she had been the first time it had happened; after all, plenty of people were lulled to sleep by someone else massaging their scalp. Even she would end up a snoring spectacle upon paying a visit to her stylist.

Ulquiorra, though? That had been completely unexpected. A few months prior, when their living arrangement was still new, he had emerged from the shower, black hair sticking out in all directions. Trying her best not to laugh at him – he was easily annoyed by the things he didn't understand back then – she had offered to fix his hair for him. Of course he'd declined at first, but after much insistence he had resigned himself and sat down against the sofa. She'd then perched herself on the cushions and had been at work no more than five minutes before he'd dozed off.

Now Orihime lifted her hands away from his head, leaning over to peer at his sleeping face. These were the only times that she could witness such a thing, as he usually woke up before her and went to bed after her.

"Ulquiorra," she whispered.

"Hmm?" came the groggy reply.

"You're asleep."

"No I'm not, woman," he said with eyes still closed.

She rolled her eyes and continued, pushing his hair away from his forehead. She had already untangled it – Ulquiorra always pulled faces when she did so – and was now having fun trying to decide what to do with it. What would it look like slicked back? She took a moment to picture him dressed and dashing in a tux, with her on his arm in some spicy, shimmering, strappy gown. They would be attending the party of an important government official…

…but wait, what were those ninjas doing there? Damn it, they'd found them! She cut Ulquiorra a look, which he acknowledged with a small nod. He had seen them too. They headed through the crowd, out to the dance floor where he casually put his hand on her waist and she slipped her fingers through his. Easy, now. They had to waltz like a couple in love, not a pair of secret agents with kunai aimed at their backs. She kept an eye over his shoulder, and him over hers, for some kind of defense. There! The waiter was approaching with a tray of hors'dourves. Orihime leaned in and placed a kiss against Ulquiorra's cheek, lingering a moment to whisper, "Two seconds."

Then she pulled away from him, lifted the skirt of her dress and withdrew the gun strapped to her thigh, pointed it over Ulquiorra's shoulder and began to fire at the ninjas. The socialites were sent screaming, ducking and running towards the exits as the black-clad assassins poured into the ballroom, knocking over sharply dressed men and gorgeous women in their haste to intercept the couple in the middle of the dance floor. Ulquiorra tripped the panicked waiter and stole his tray, using it as a shield just as a rain of kunai flew at them. Orihime pressed herself against his back, and as he turned to deflect the weapons, she shot at the ninja, taking out an entire row of them.

But the room was quickly filling with more, and she was out of bullets. The situation was looking desperate. Glancing back at Ulquiorra, she saw that he was injured, a kunai having sunken deep into his leg. "Woman," he panted, his green eyes pinched in pain and worry. She knew what he was trying to say: run. She had to run, and he would hold them off for as long as he could.

"No!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I won't leave you behind! We're in this together, Ulquiorra! Together!"

"Woman," he said more insistently, and she snapped back to the present, blinking twice. Her fists were currently clenching two clumps of black hair, and Ulquiorra was glaring up at her in annoyance. Orihime gasped and let go quickly.

"Sorry! I must have been daydreaming…" Smoothing his hair down, she reached for the comb and began untangling it again. Ulquiorra crossed his arms, staring ahead at the TV, wondering what could have possibly been going through the girl's head to make her squeeze his hair so tightly. Of course, he had learned a long time ago that sometimes it was best not to ask. He probably wouldn't have understood whatever she told him anyway.

Soon the evil comb was gone, replaced by her thin fingers, and Ulquiorra's irritation melted into drowsiness. His eyelids began to droop, his focus slipping. By the time the next commercial break came around, he was fast asleep, and Orihime was trying to suppress her giggles at his adorable face.

Now then, what else could she do with his hair? Technically, it was long enough for her to put into a stubby ponytail at the nape of his neck. She closed her eyes, and suddenly she was tied to the mast of a pirate ship on a stormy sea, soaked through from the driving rain. At the steering wheel was Gin Ichimaru, the trademark grin on his face made sinister by flashing lightning. And standing a few feet away, Aizen Sousuke and Tousen Kaname had a watchful eye on Ulquiorra, who was precariously balanced halfway down a plank of wood hanging off the side of the vessel.

Ulquiorra looked back at Orihime briefly, his expression unreadable as the white shirt he wore slapped wetly against his emaciated body. They had been captives there for weeks now, fed nothing but the same scraps given to the dogs. Aizen had originally intended for them to be hostages to get a healthy ransom in exchange for their lives, but the British navy – and Orihime's high class parents – refused to pay. What did it matter that a teenage girl and one soldier out of millions would die in vain on the high seas? It wasn't like they were particularly important to anyone.

"Come now, Ulquiorra, do cooperate," said Aizen, his cutlass drawn and pointed at the black-haired youth's back. "We can't keep the sharks waiting."

On cue, Tia Harribel surfaced from the water, surrounded by a pack of great whites with gnarled, snapping teeth and hulking, writhing bodies. Ulquiorra, hands casually tucked into his pockets, didn't look the least bit worried. "You may threaten me all that you like, but rest assured, this ship will be mine," he said to Aizen, who chuckled in response.

"Ah, but Mr. Cifer, how will you take it from me in your current position?" He nodded once at Tousen, who stepped forward and gave Ulquiorra a rough push.

"No!" Orihime screamed as he fell from the plank, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling as he plummeted to his death in the waters below. She hung her head, sobs shaking her body, the tight rope digging into the underside of her breasts. It was over. She would be next, and her stupid parents would have the last laugh. Oh, if only she could have become a pirate, traveled to their home on the coast and blasted them and their riches full of cannonballs!

"What? What is that?" Aizen's growling voice forced her attention back to the plank. What indeed? Oh, could it have been – was that really—? It was! It was Ulquiorra! And Peter Pan and Tinkerbell! Oh, such a glorious sight! They were flying! Surely Aizen and his dastardly crew were going to get it now! Her heart swelled with joy, the hope and the magic swirling around her like the pixie dust in the –

"Woman."

Orihime glanced down at Ulquiorra. Once again, her fingers had wound themselves through his hair so tightly that she was pulling his skin upwards. "Eeek! I'm so sorry!" she cried, releasing him at once. "I was just so happy to see that you were alright!"

A sigh. "Of course I'm alright. I haven't gone anywhere."

Orihime laughed sheepishly, patting his hair down. Ulquiorra tore away from her hands, no longer caring for her bipolar ministrations. "Leave it alone, woman."

"But it's still - !"

"I said leave it." He stood up and walked away from, headed towards the hall. Orihime pressed her lips together, trying to hold in her laughter as she wondered how long it would take Ulquiorra to notice that his hair resembled a bird of paradise on one side and a bush on the other. She waited patiently, and fifteen seconds later, he strolled back into the living room. With a sour look on his face, he sat down against the sofa beneath her. "Fix it," he commanded.

"Yes, Ulquiorra-sama," she said cheerfully, picking up the comb for the fifth time that day. Hopefully this time she would be able to concentrate through the entire process, though the pseudo-faux-hawk on the right side of his skull had her imagining what it would be like if he were the lead singer in a screamo band.

/TBC/

A/N: Anyone want to take a guess as to how long it takes Orihime to do Ulquiorra's hair on average? How about how long it'll take for him to realize that he should start fixing it himself?

Hope you enjoyed it; and if you did, do let me know what parts you liked by clicking that review button!