A/N: Ah Jesus. You know what's a fucking trip? The read-back option on Textedit. That robot voice is the fucking funniest/creepiest/trippiest thing in the world after Tom Hanks in drag. Jesus H. Chirst.
Disclaimer: Oh honey, I do disclaim.
Warnings: Heavy cussing, mentions of sexual situations, scars, use of unknown drugs, man-on-man lovin' themes, ect. ect. ect.
Grimmjow watched Szayel throw down his usual cocktail of pills with mild interest. The pink haired agent followed up his popping with a chaser of water, closing his eyes and licking his lips in satisfaction when he had finished. It was interesting how different the immediate, post-medicated Szayel acted compared to the pre-medicated Szayel. It was all little things. A tightened then deliberately loosened fist. A fleeting cagey look that only appeared when the doctor didn't think anyone was paying attention. The twitching of a jaw muscle. The nervous habit of bouncing his foot while sitting.
After the doctor took his medication, all these little ticks disappeared for a couple of hours. Grimmjow watched Szayel visibly relax as he sat on a stool in a diner car some miles off the highway. It was almost fascinating to watch the tension in the man's shoulders disappear, melting away and bring a very small smile to the doctor's face.
The had stopped to eat dinner after they had driven for another 4 hours, per Renji Abarai's instructions. They had another 3 hours of driving to go, but they had decided to stop at a motel for the night. Unlike the now relaxed Szayel, Ulquiorra looked ready to silently fall apart. Ever since they had left Kansei's Auto Parts, the hacker had looked even more out of it than before. He barely touched his cheese burger and sipped quietly and tensely at his iced tea, not talking or particularly looking at anyone. The usual dry wit and soft comments that Ulquiorra usually provided while in a group, though not conversationally momentous, were ominously absent and everyone else felt the uncomfortable atmosphere weigh on them. Except for possibly Szayel.
And why? Grimmjow had no fucking idea.
The blue-haired agent's thoughts wandered back to the scene in the warehouse apartment when Shuhei Hisagi had recognized Ulquiorra as 'Four', and Ulquiorra in turn had addressed the mechanic as 'Sixty-nine'. The conversation that had followed had been cryptic and vague, it's meaning eluding Grimmjow and the rest of his team.
"Never thought I'd see you again, Four." The look on Hisagi's face had been soft, but extremely sad as he spoke. Like he was remembering a bad memory but had dealt with it in his own way. It was rather how Ichigo had looked when he had mentioned 'Tensa' in the interrogation room. But less pained.
"So you got out of that place?" Ulquiorra, on the other hand, looked carefully blank. The mask was back in full force and his fixed gaze on Hisagi was unwaveringly vague.
"Yeah." Hisagi's eyes had gone off to the side in that moment. Ah, there was the pain. But then the look was gone and he was looking at Ulquiorra again. "Thanks to you of course." Hisagi's sad smile had a little more smile in it now. "With both of them gone…it was much easier to find a way out." Pain spike. "I wasn't watched as closely…."
Ulquiorra nodded slowly. "So I'm guessing that pet escaped with you? I ran into him the other day."
This confused Grimmjow. Ulquiorra had been with the team for the last 72+ hours. He wouldn't have met anyone they hadn't and really, there had very little interaction with non-team members. And he had a feeling 'that pet' wasn't an animal.
"Oh Ishida?" Hisagi smiled a little more naturally at the surprised look that broke through Ulquiorra's mask. "Yeah, that's his name. Ishida Urryu. Yeah, no, he got out later on… makes sense, after all," Grey eyes suddenly became extremely hard. "Two subordinates dead, he was bound to want to keep his toys closer to the vest."
From the lack of emotion in that final comment, Grimmjow had a another feeling that 'he' wasn't this Ishida person.
There was a heavy pause in the conversation before: "You guys close now? That kind of favor takes a lot of effort and time after all."
Hisagi seemed to regard Ulquiorra ruefully. "I dunno, If we had met again…afterwards…and I had asked you to hide this," The mechanic brushed his fingertips over the tattoo on his face, black ink looking so fresh that Grimmjow half expected it to rub off on the man's fingers. "Would you have?"
Ulquiorra looked at Hisagi without blinking for a moment. "Of course."
Hisagi smiled again. "I thought so. You hide yours well."
At that comment Ulquiorra moved his hand to zip up his jacket again, concealing the marks on his chest under dark material.
"I try." The hacker said, eyes dropping before flicking up to fix Hisagi with a meaningful look.
Hisagi looked right back at Ulquiorra before giving a small nod. A wry smile flickered on the handsome man's face. "I assume you already know my name if you found that…How about telling me your real name, Four." There was that rueful look again. "I'd like to know the name of the guy I haven't had the chance to properly thank for saving my life."
Saved his life? Grimmjow was sure that Ulquiorra had never even hinted at knowing Hisagi when the man had been first mentioned. The blue-haired agent frowned. Things were beginning to feel…extremely personal. Not that they hadn't up to this point, of course.
Ulquiorra ducked his head and Grimmjow could sworn have he saw the corners of the man's lips turn up ever so slightly. "Ulquiorra Cifer."
Hisagi smiled a little wider. "That really a Romanian name?"
Ulquiorra nodded, head still inclined. Hisagi took a step forward, a lightly scarred wrist gleaming slightly in the light as the former model move to tilt Uquiorra's head up by the chin.
Grimmjow watched as Hisagi brushed his lips over Ulquiorra's left cheek then tilted the hacker's head gently to kiss the other. The mechanic pulled back slightly so he was still extremely close to Ulquiorra's face but could also look directly into the hacker's eyes. The former model was quite a bit taller than the slim hacker and he somewhat had to crane over the shorter man. But despite the close proximity, the two did not seem…intimate. They were not looking romantically into each other's eyes. There was quiet understanding and…comradship.
"Well then. Thank you, Ulquiorra Cifer." Hisagi said, smiling bittersweetly before he stepped away, hand dropping to his side.
Ulquiorra did nothing for a moment, gazing emptily at the floor. Then he nodded, saying nothing.
There was a pause and silence filtered through the room before Grimmjow decided he had enough.
"Mr. Abarai I have a few questions about the whereabouts of Ichigo Kurosaki."
Grimmjow definitely couldn't ignore the intimate conversation that had just taken place but they had come here for a job and he wasn't about to walk out without some solid information.
"Well he ain't here, I can tell ya that." Abarai rolled his shoulders and scratched at his 5 o'clock shadow.
Grimmjow slipped his hands into his pockets, completely relaxed. A normal agent might be scribbling in a notebook or maybe even trying to intimidate Abarai. That was BS. Grimmjow didn't need to be sneaky or manipulative to get information from this kind of guy.
Grimmjow slowly blinked once, mind moving 100 a minute. Ichigo and his brother had been here last night, probably left early that morning. Abarai was a casual fuck, as was Hisagi (respectively). The two of them loaded up on ammunition and wheels, payment either sex or a combination of sex and money.
The stickler was the additional payment for ammunition for his team. Grimmjow's given gun hadn't seemed sabotaged in any way, and it was difficult to bug something so loud and mobile. There might be trackers but Grimmjow had a feeling that Ichigo didn't play that way. He remembered the look of merriment the redhead had worn in the interrogation room and the agent knew for a fact that Ichigo wouldn't spoil the chase by constantly keeping tabs on his team.
So why the weapons? Were they a tease? A sort of 'You're gonna need 'em, dollface' taunt? Grimmjow turned the puzzle over in his head as he continued with his questions.
"Is there any particular place in America he and his brother might head for from here?" Grimmjow thought for a moment. "A fellow electronics expert maybe?"
Bullseye. The agent almost smiled as Abarai began nodding slowly, seemingly remembering something. Electronics were Ichigo's forte it seemed and he probably need to juice up on that as they had with weapons and wheels.
"He did mention something about the geek-whore, didn't he, Shu?" Abarai threw an arm around his current lover as the formal model plunked his ass down on the sofa next to the weapons expert.
Hisagi nodded absentmindedly. "He has a name, Renji…."
Abarai rolled his eyes minutely. "A'fore they left Ichi said sum thin' bout upgrading for better communication or some shit. Ishida Urryu was mentioned in passing. Suggestive passing of course."
Then it clicked. Grimmjow had understood at least part of the ambiguous conversation between Ulquiorra and Hisagi . Some agent he was. Really.
In the present, Grimmjow popped a steak fry in his mouth as he thought about how much sense it had finally made. Ishida Urryu was the hacker Ulquiorra had beaten yesterday. He had found the recent picture, had recognized the tattoo (or so Grimmjow assumed), and had realized who Hisagi was.
Which shouldn't have mattered to Grimmjow. It shouldn't have bothered him. Ulquiorra's past should stay his own. Things did not get personal in Grimmjow's team.
But Grimmjow couldn't ignore it. Ichigo Kurosaki didn't make a move without making sure he knew every single effect that move would trigger. And he had no doubt that the MIT graduate already knew what none of his team knew about Ulquiorra. He would have to. By baiting Grimmjow, Ichigo had to know he would not even think of tracking the other man down without his team. Yeah, it wouldn't have mattered 8 years ago…when Grimmjow had always worked alone. But that wasn't how he worked now. Things were different. And so Ichigo would know just as much about his team than what he appeared to know about Grimmjow.
Grimmjow almost felt the scar on his stomach twitch…No, he couldn't know about that…he couldn't. No one else…could possibly know about that.
…Bottom line, he could not ignore this development from within his team. Grimmjow cast a side-long glance at Ulquiorra finally nibbling on his burger. Everything was significant. Everything meant something, and all these everythings would, somehow, impossibly, bring them back to Ichigo. Grimmjow felt it in his gut, a dark…ominous feeling….
"So how about tellin' us the story with you and Mr. Eyes?"
Grimmjow glance at Nnoitra, sitting two stools away, between Szayel and Starrk. The boney agent was stretching, the greasy remains of his meal pushed away from him. Grimmjow could practically hear joints creak as the lanky man relaxed again elbows wide apart on the counter and face craned to look at the now unmoving Ulquiorra.
The hacker slowly set his burger down not saying anything and Grimmjow glanced at Starrk next to him. The older agent shrugged. 'Let the man get all the stupid out of his system.' The look seemed to say. Grimmjow glanced back to Nnoitra, who continued in face of Ulquiorra's non-responsiveness.
"Japanese people don't fucking kiss other people on the cheek as a fucking thank you. Mr. Eye-guy's Yakuza yeah, but he ain't fucking French or nothing."
Grimmjow's eyebrow raised at that French comment, but said nothing. Ignorant idiot could make himself look like a fool for all he cared. And Grimmjow really had no allegiance to his mother country. Just another place with fucked up memories. One of many.
"So what's the story, Ulqui?" Grimmjow heard the aloof interest in Nnoitra's voice, despite the relaxed position he was in, leaning against the diner car counter.
Ulquiorra said nothing, his hands set neatly on his knees.
Granted, Nnoitra's reasoning was valid. Japanese people were inherently more reserved than say, Americans. Yakuza were a different breed and were often the acceptation to the rule, as Ichigo was, obviously. But Hisagi had seemed right Japanese, regardless of his entrance. If he had wanted to properly thank Ulquiorra he would have bowed respectively. The kisses had been strange to say the least.
"Just leave him alone."
Heads turned to look at the pink haired doctor. Szayel had a fork in his hand but wasn't eating the salad he had ordered. The man wasn't looking up though, his head slightly inclined, pink hair hiding his face.
"I'm just saying it's strange is all." Nnoitra did not usually relent. Never, it seemed.
"And you would know about strange, wouldn't you?" Szayel suddenly snapped, turning cruel honey-tinted eyes on the lanky agent. "Mr. I'm-not-actually-a-gunman. Yeah, I bet you know all about fishy things, Nnoi."
Though Nnoitra was facing away from Grimmjow, the blue-haired agent could almost see how the man's single purple eye narrowed at Szayel.
Oh yeah. That was another thing on the list of weird stuff that happened in Kensei's Auto Parts.
Abarai had refused to let the team leave until he had properly equipped all of them, which meant getting a very reluctant Nnoi to comply with the weapon master's request of seeing his hands. Now that Grimmjow looked back on the exchange Nnoi had acted…uncharacteristically elusive.
When they had convinced Nnoi to let Abarai see his hands after a few terse, choice words, the weapons dealer…started to laugh. It started out small until he seriously began to crack up, gripping Nnoitra's hands and glancing back at them every so often merely to laugh even harder.
"Oh mama! Whoo." Abarai finally let the lanky agent's hands go, not moving from his spot to root through his pile of weapons as he had for the others, still chuckling and glancing back at Nnoitra's stony face.
"Shit, man. I guess you really don't need a piece." Abarai flopped down on the sofa once more, smiling widely.
Nnoitra's one eye was glaring hard at the weapons dealer, but he said nothing.
"Oh my," A faux look of surprise lit up Abarai's face. "Have you not told yer buddies here about yer previous occupation?" The weapons dealer fell into another round of hearty cackles. Tears of mirth began to gather at the corner of Abarai's eyes as he reached to grab around his well toned middle. "Oh my fucking God, that's too fucking rich! You poor motherfucking liar. What didja tell 'em? That you're just a mother. Fucking. Extra. Gunner?" Abarai seemed to be having trouble catching his breath between his laughs. The weapons dealer leaned back, trying to control his laughs, giggling as he continued. "I should have fucking seen it when you walked in, not a fucking tense muscle in your skinny-ass body."
Grimmjow turned from the still laughing Abarai to look at Nnoitra. And Grimmjow could see what Abarai meant. Nnoi was completely…relaxed. Except for his eye. It was still narrowed to a slit. Now that Grimmjow thought about it, that was usually how Nnoitra was, never tensed up, body almost always totally relaxed. It was a ready body, Grimmjow now saw. A body ready to spring into action at any given moment, in any direction. He had seen it before, flashes of how quick Nnoitra could be. One second the man could be completely still and the next 5 men surrounding him could be dead, shot through the head.
Abarai had now almost completely controlled himself. "I suppose ya could use yer talents ta fire a gun. But-" Suddenly Abarai was laughing all over again. "God it's too fucking funny!" The weapons dealer wheezed. "A fucking martial artist passing himself off as a gunman. Ah shit," Abarai clutched at his side, a grin still on his face, "Ima rupture my spleen. Ah fuck. How fucking long have you played at this gunner bullshit, man? Nevermind, yer hands practically speak fer themselves. What, 8, 9 years?" Renji threw his arms back over the back of the couch, his laughs now dying down to a chuckle.
"Forget it, You don't need a gun. Just get the hell out of my shop before I break a rib laughing like this."
Nnoitra said nothing still, and the silence had almost creeped Grimmjow out. He watched as the supposed gunman shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans and turned to walk out of the room. As he passed Grimmjow saw it. In his stride. At any point in his step Nnoitra could lash out in any direction. The way he carried his body he could twist without effort. He was completely open but at the same time completely full of possibilities.
Sitting at the diner counter Grimmjow realized something else. Nnoitra was limber. Extremely flexible. The man was constantly stretching his body, now that Grimmjow thought of it. He moved with a slight swagger that was constantly switching his body position so he could pivot and attack from any angle. It had never really occurred to Grimmjow that Nnoitra was anything other than a pretty good marksman. He had never looked into it before because the man always got his job done. But now that he knew it, he could see it clearly. Nnoitra was a lethal fighter.
And Szayel seemed to be provoking him. Scornful honey-shaded eye were boring though lens and body as the doctor regarded Nnoitra with distaste and Nnoitra said, perplexingly, nothing. Grimmjow didn't move though. Nnoitra had had the chance to beat the shit out of Szayel at any time. The blue-haired agent had the feeling Nnoi wasn't about to start now.
After all. Grimmjow had never once seen Nnoitra physically fight anyone.
Honestly. He had seen the man through a punch maybe one time. But mostly Nnoitra was positioned as reliable back up. Distance shooter. And the man had never complained, not seriously at least.
So Grimmjow wasn't terribly concerned for Szayel. That and the fact that deep down, Grimmjow had a feeling that Nnoitra didn't completely hate the doctor. He wouldn't have put up with being in the same team as him. That was just how Nnoi was.
On the other hand, Szayel didn't look his usual level of pissed prissiness. He looked seriously mad, silently glaring at his teammate. Grimmjow expected a long winded 'Stop-being-a-thick-headed-hypocrite' speech to erupt at any moment.
Needless to say Grimmjow had a feeling he wasn't the only one who was shocked when Szayel stood up and strode toward the door of the diner car. The definitive slam of the door reverberated through the place.
"…Couldn't ya have kept yer big-ass mouth shut?" Grimmjow glanced at Starrk who was now nursing a cold cup of decaf. The usual tired tone in his voice had an exasperated edge to it.
Nnoitra glanced at Starrk himself before he slowly leaned back to prop his elbows on the diner counter, saying nothing for a moment. Then- "'S not like the freak's not gonna come back."
The lanky agent's voice had none of it's usual spit and vinegar. Grimmjow templed his knuckles.
"It you weren't such an asshole he wouldn't have walked out in the first place," Grimmjow muttered warningly.
Smartly, Nnoitra said nothing and silence reigned for a few minutes. Szayel was a drama queen, yeah, but the man loved lecturing people more than anything. Him walking out on putting Nnoitra back in his place was about as normal as a Japanese man kissing someone on the cheek.
Now the reason for 'purchasing' personal weapons for the team made sense. Grimmjow wasn't sure whether to be pissed or worried. Ichigo had known about Nnoi. Known things that had somehow impossibly gone unnoticed right under Grimmjow's nose for more than 2 years. Ichigo knew Abarai would analyze them all perfectly, Nnoi in particular.
Grimmjow almost felt a chill go up his spine as he contemplated what Ichigo was doing. What he assumed Ichigo was doing. The concept forming in Grimmjow's mind needed more proof to confirm but if he was right, the main question was 'Why?' Why was Ichigo doing this…what the hell was that man up to…?
"Where is he, Ulqui?" Grimmjow didn't look up from his hands. Concerning the current evident-stupidity-of-Nnoitra situation, the agent was getting close to being very pissed off.
There was no reply for a moment before Grimmjow heard the light tap-tap of Ulquiorra's fingers working on his iPhone.
"2 blocks, 'Granger's Liquor'. He's not moving."
Grimmjow nodded. Ulquiorra could track any of the team down via their phones. Grimmjow didn't have the faintest idea of what Szayel could be doing, but he knew the doctor wouldn't just up and dessert.
"Get a doggy bag for that," the agent said, referring to Ulquiorra's burger. Grimmjow pushed himself of his stool and headed for the diner door himself. "Szay knows the hotel number. Let's go."
Szayel would mosey on back in his own time. And honestly, Grimmjow really didn't want to deal with a temperamental team at the moment. A normal team was hard enough to deal with 95% of the time, he didn't get paid nearly enough to deal with this crap.
A/N: I'm sorry this took a fuck of a long time to come out but Jesus I've had a unhappily busy summer. I sincerely apologize. If I take too long again you guys can PM me, like Sycokiller did, and get me the fuck back on track. So now that it's out, review it and shit and I'll try my best to get the next damn chapter out, promise. Plus my other fic 'Return', is a thing, so. Yeah. Ph-v out.