A/N: This chapter was originally intended to be more lighthearted, but it took a darker turn… my bad. Next chapter for sure is going to be a lot less… uh… gloomy. Enjoy, and leave me a review if you like!

-M.S.

What's Cookin'?

Soi Fon grew more or less used to staying in Szayel's home, although sleeping arrangements were a bit awkward; the doctor's apartment had only one bedroom, which he took for himself, and then a futon that folded out from the couch in the living room. Ggio was back to his usual self, it seemed, due to the fact that philandering bastard had offered to give her the futon… as long as he was in it as well.

"It's not like I can sleep on the floor," he had whined after her firm rejection that he been punctuated by a threat to relieve him of his manhood, "Have pity on a war hero!"

"War hero my ass!" she had snapped back, "And you'll just have to make due!"

"You could share my bed," Szayel offered to the black haired man with a somehow creepy smile, which gave Ggio chills and had him gratefully accepting a mattress on the kitchen floor.

Soi Fon thought about this as she attempted to step over Ggio's prone form, which had sprawled off of his mattress and spread halfway across the room, his good arm flung over his eyes as he breathed deeply through his nose. His wrinkled gray shirt, lent to him by the street physician, had pulled up to reveal his flat stomach, his boxers low on his hips. Soi Fon eventually gave up on trying to get to the cabinets for a drinking glass and instead moved back to the living room to wait for Ggio to wake up. He could be rather irrational when woken by unnecessary means, and the woman figured that if he slept more, then maybe his shoulder injury would be able to heal faster, and then they could go get Yoruichi….

There was a sudden loud thud from the kitchen, followed by an even louder stream of swearing.

"Dammit Szayel, you son of bitch, what the hell was that?!" Ggio yelled uproariously as Soi Fon when to go see what had happened. It appeared that Szayel had purposefully kicked the mattress from under the black haired invalid, tossing the man and the bedding halfway across the room. The feline man on the floor was practically spitting with fury, but upon getting no response from the pink haired doctor, proceeded to snatch his blankets and drag them into the hallway, curling up there instead.

"Soi Fon," Szayel greeted cordially from the kitchen as he poured himself a cup of water from a carafe kept in the refrigerator as if he had not just ruined someone's day, "Good morning."

"Morning," she answered shortly, glancing at the way he was dressed: a dark suit with a blue oxford and a purple tie, dress shoes completing the entirely un-Szayel-like look, "Important business today?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," the man replied cheerfully, "Since you asked, I'll tell you now…"

"What?"

"Well, the thing is, I'll be gone all day," he started with a smile, "So I won't be here to cook."

"So?" Soi Fon asked, a bit annoyed as she moved around him to pour a cup of coffee; she wondered for a moment if Tesla was rubbing off on her, but she hadn't seen that guy in over a week, as it had been eleven days since the fiasco at the prison.

"So I'll be asking you to make dinner tonight~!" Szayel finished, waltzing into the hall to the front door. Soi Fon almost spit out her mouthful of coffee as she heard this. She opened her mouth to protest but was cut off as Szayel uncaringly tread on Ggio a second time, kicking him in what might have been a purposeful blow, in the side of the head.

"Szayel, I can't-"

"You asshole, I'm going to-"

"-Really do much-"

"-Fucking kill you get your ass back here-"

"-Concerning things in the kitchen…" the woman trailed off as the door closed behind her host with a sort of damning finality like a prison gate shutting or a guillotine falling. Her feeling of doom was not helped by the continuous dark muttering of Ggio's choice words as he nursed a rapidly darkening bruise under his eye.

…..

"What do you mean you don't know how to cook?" Ggio gritted out in an uncharacteristically ill temper, "you must be able to make something, like boxed macaroni, or cereal."

"I mean I'm an awful cook," Soi Fon answered harshly, "I burn water for God's sake."

Ggio gave her a glare that had 'are you kidding me?' written all over it.

"I cook," she said shortly, "About as well as I drive. If that gives you any ideas."

Ggio's expression changed to one of blanched shock as he remembered the damage to the Aston Martin; the passenger side had been more or less scraped free of black paint, leaving a wide swatch of stark metal, and the side mirror was completely gone. He had laughed about that a little incredulously before thinking about how Tesla would react. He hadn't called the blonde yet for fear of the imminent fight that would spawn from the warped car.

"That… that's pretty bad. But you drove and we survived, so that means that your food is edible but gross…." He reasoned hopefully; Soi Fon was keeping a careful eye on him as his foul mood began to dissipate, "Right?"

"We," she assured him slowly, "Were incredibly lucky."

"Oh."

"Will you help me?"

Ggio paused and looked at her incredulously before glancing at his immobilized arm with raised eyebrows. He turned his eyes back to her and stared before she sighed in recognition of his condition.

"Fine," she huffed, "Just give me the orders and I'll cook to the best of my ability."

The black haired man puffed out his cheeks and blew out air discontentedly.

"Alright," he conceded reluctantly, "but only because my survival depends on your ability to follow directions."

…..

Szayel glanced up at the white skyscraper before him, its name ringing through his head with as much grandeur as when he had first stepped through the doors. It had been much less fantastic then, as he had first joined Aizen's group when it was a smaller operation….

Las Noches

The glass doors opened without his touch, the thin sheets which he knew to be bullet proof sliding smoothly, soundlessly, to the side.

"Master Szayel," a rotund man greeted, his long black hair swept back unpleasantly into a ponytail, a too-wide grin stretching on his face, "Welcome back."

"I'm in no mood for you groveling, Lumina," the doctor said darkly, his spark colored eyes flashing in anger as a second man, much the same as the first but with his hair parted down the middle in oily curtains stepped up, "Go find something productive to do with Verona. Before I kill you."

"Of course, Master Szayel," the second man piped up with a greasy sort of sycophantic, irritating tone; the doctor ignoring him and moving forward, taking an elevator to one of the top floor before walking down a long hallway set with man doors.

Szayel opened a door seemingly at random to a dimly lit room that seemed to be filled with twilight; it was lit by a large chandelier, luxuriously carpeted, and in the center of the room was a long oaken table that comfortably sat twelve people, no more, no less. The chair at the head the table was a great deal more ornate that the others, which were plain and made of the same wood, with straight backs and no arms to them.

Currently, only four of the chairs were filled, leaving large gaps in the seating arrangements and giving the room a somehow austere air despite the almost ostentatious décor that spoke of great wealth.

Szayel crossed the room and took his seat silently, golden gaze flicking between the other inhabitants in the room. The first, closest to the head of the table, was Stark, his booted feet up on the table and Lilinette in his lap as usual. Dog hair clung to his jeans, Szayel noticed with distaste; the man always reeked of canines, and his house was a thousand times worse due to his numerous pets of the species. A single chair spanned the gap between the dozing man before the next seat was filled by Tia, her arms crossed and her jacket collar hiding her mouth, though her bright eyes were trained on Szayel's face.

Across from the blonde woman, on Szayel's side of the table and closer still to his seat was a thickly muscled man with a wild shock of electric blue hair, his face sharp with ever-present anger that was ready to explode at any second. He was currently fiddling moodily with a hole in his dark coat which was worn open over a white shirt. Directly beside Szayel's chair was seated a tall African American man with white plugs, his hair kept closely shaved but for the ridge that passed down the top of his skull, a white choker showing clearly against his ebony skin. The man gave no indication that he had even noticed Szayel, continuing to shuffle a deck of cards in his hands.

"So," Szayel began pleasantly, "Where is everyone else?"

"Who knows?" the Stark yawned, stroking Lilinette's hair was he woke up to find her snoozing with her face buried in his chest.

"Batman's with the woman," the blue haired man grunted, "That's all I know. I don't give a shit about the other guys. Those four could go die and the world wouldn't change at all."

"That could be said of almost any man alive," the dark skinned man beside Szayel murmured, "Our lives change nothing…"

"Well that makes things complicated," the pink haired doctor continued with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which shone coldly over his silver rimmed glasses, "Because I have a problem."

"Oh?" Tia's seldom hear voice inquired with a little more emotion than what would be considered disinterest, blinking coldly at the man who had spoken.

"My brother is dead," Szayel said, his voice sounding like it would be able to freeze alcohol though he had a thin smile still in place, "And one of the people who typically would fill one of these chairs caused it."

….

"Okay," Ggio said almost encouragingly, "We're going to make spaghetti; it's super easy, just heat up some noodles and dump some sauce from the fridge on them. Start by putting the water in the pot and turning on the stove burner."

Soi Fon did as she was asked, filling up a large silver pot with water from the tap and moving to the stove, the water sloshing around inside. She put it down and turned the knob for the burner to start… with a bit too much force it would seem. The fire flared up, licking around the sides of the pot and scorching the countertops.

"Whoa shit!" Ggio cried, leaning in from behind her to turn the burner down as quickly as possible with his good arm. Soi Fon tensed as his body came into brief contact with hers before he stepped back. He was still in the clothing he had slept in, as he found it extremely difficult to change clothes with only one arm and she refused to help him, but that didn't matter. He was…

He had gotten close to her suddenly and she had been startled, she told herself, that was all.

"Look at me;" he commanded, and she turned around to face him, "Listen carefully. When you're cooking, never, eveeeer turn the burner up that high. You'll burn the house down."

"I told you I was no good at this," Soi Fon said reproachfully to cover her moment of embarrassment, fighting to keep a flush out of her cheeks.

"Well that's why I'm teaching you," he told her, not unkindly, "Although I don't understand how you survived this long without knowing how to cook…."

"I always had Yoruichi," she said quietly, thinking back, "Right after I left home she picked me up off the streets. I never had to learn to cook on my own."

"Hm…." Ggio's gaze seemed far away, clouded by what seemed to be sorrow, but after a moment he seemed to come back to himself and he became strangely unreadable as a small but somehow sharp smile touched his lips, "Well you're one of the lucky ones then! Must be nice, getting rescued like that."

"What?"

"Well, now we need to wait for the water to boil," he said quickly, ignoring her confusion at his words, "When it starts bubbling, put the noodles in and stir them every few minutes. I'm going to go try to change clothes…"

Soi Fon watched his retreating back as he walked down the hall to the back room to filch too-large clothes from Szayel; for a brief moment she had seen something in his eyes that she recognized in herself. It was the nameless pain brought by rejection and loss, tempered with a dark fury that stemmed from being left behind. It was a stark, raw look, but he had covered it with his grin in less than a second.

It had been hidden in those ochre depths so quickly most others would wonder if they had really seen anything at all, but not Soi Fon. She knew what she had seen, and she trusted her eyes.

She was dragged out of her thoughts by a sudden strange hissing, her brow furrowing in confusion as she turned to see the pot boiling over, bubbles running over the shining side and onto the stovetop, leaving dark burn marks.

She blinked and reached out quickly, turning off the stove as Ggio reentered the room, baggy cargo pants belted low on his hips and a dark gray tank top hugging his form as he struggled with the sling straps. He had paled slightly, indicating that he had not fared as well as he could have hoped in the removal of the sling to change his clothes, but she hadn't heard his customary stream of swearing, so she assumed he was okay.

He glanced up at her vaguely, thrown off by her poker face stare, before he leaned around her to look at the pot. His face fell, and he breathed deeply through his nose, approaching the failed dish. He peered into the water, which, though still steaming, had calmed significantly, and watched the conglomerate ball of noodle-mess bob in the water.

"Well," Ggio commented, raising his eyebrows, "fuck that, that's not edible."

"Now what?" Soi Fon asked, refusing to apologize for the disaster in the pot. After all, she had said she was a bad cook, but did either of those pig-headed men listen to her? No, of course not! They were more stubborn than she was!

"Now I guess I end up cooking, despite my best efforts to avoid it, and then you will eat the food happily and graciously thank me for slaving over a hot stove," Ggio told her with a smirk, "But that last part won't happen, so I suppose you just get to starve."

"What?!" Soi Fon snapped, "I bet you're not any better at cooking than I am!"

Ggio laughed loudly.

"Ah, you're wrong on that," he grinned, "But it's not like I can prove it to you, since I won't let you eat any of my food without proper compensation."

"Compensation?" she gritted, "Like what?"

He began pulling random ingredients out of the refrigerator with one hand, setting the food on the counter.

"Dump that mess in the sink," he commanded, his head in the fridge as he dug around for things to cook with, "And if you want to eat… you could sleep in the kitchen and give me the futon? Holy shit, there are blood packets in here…"

"And if I won't?" she bit at him, answering both requests at once.

He pulled back out of the icebox and looked at her with annoyance clear in his eyes.

"Just move the pot, little bee."

"Don't call me that!" she cried, beginning to move the pot anyway. There was a loud clang from behind her as Ggio hefted a skillet awkwardly onto the stove top with one hand, muttering a curse as he did so.

"This thing is so fucking annoying," he grumbled, dragging the rest of his ingredients over to him and beginning to crack eggs into the iron skillet, dropping the shells into the silvery trashcan at his side.

"Well it's your fault that happened," Soi Fon muttered.

"Please," Ggio snorted, "We've been over this."

She remained silent, simply watching him as he began to add cheese and scallions to the egg mix on the stove, flipping it to make an omelet. The food hissed as it cooked, Ggio pouring a quantity of rice into a water-filled glass casserole dish and placing the whole thing in the microwave.

After a while, the anger left his face and he simply stood at the oven, watching the food with a close eye. He poured the rice into the skillet with the egg and began to stir it with quick, sharp movements, but Soi Fon was only watching his face.

He looked vaguely happy, the usual sarcastic element in his features gone.

"Do you like cooking?" she asked suddenly, and he glanced up at her surprised.

"Well… yeah, I guess," he replied slowly, "Menoly taught me how to cook after my dad- after I left home." He stopped himself midsentence before continuing, and a smile found its way onto his face again, "I was pretty hungry before that, living off ramen like a college student!"

Soi Fon fell silent again, thinking. Ggio was acting strange, almost nostalgic, in a way she had never seen him when he was around Tesla. She wondered if it had to do with their surroundings, or maybe even with Szayel himself.

She blinking, finding him suddenly very close to her and staring directly into her eyes.

"Spacing out?" he asked with a smirk, "Ah, and I just had another idea for what you could give me in exchange for food…" he puckered his lips mockingly before dodging her open-handed blow with a laugh.

She had changed her mind; he was being just as infuriating and stupid as every other day she'd known him.

...

"I told you he'd be upset," Stark sighed, his pale gaze lighting on Tia, who only nodded. He glanced back at Szayel, whose smile was more of a snarl at this point.

"So it was you," he commented, voice smooth, "Coyote Stark."

"I was there," the man replied, sitting up and still cradling the little school girl to his chest to avoid waking her, "But I didn't do it personally."

"Is that so?" the doctor asked chillingly, "You got one of your subordinates to off my brother then? Too lazy to do it yourself?"

Stark ignored the jibe and glanced at his blonde companion again.

"Tousen did it himself," the man answered, shifting the girl in his arms into a more comfortable position, "Your brother did something to piss off Aizen, Szayel; there was nothing either Tia or I could have done about it. Sorry."

"Sorry," the young physician hissed furiously before raising his voice for the others to hear, "Of course not. Of course there was nothing to be done, but he was my brother, after all. Would you say the same if I watched someone put a gun to Lilinette's head and blow her brains out?"

"It's not the same," Stark answered, looking a bit riled now, "Lilinette serves her purpose, and Aizen knows it."

Szayel had heard just about enough, and he stood up, slamming his hand palm down on the table top before throwing his chair back.

"Strange," the blue haired brawn smirked, "I wouldn't have taken you to be a family man, Szayel."

"And I wouldn't have taken you to be the type to end up as a caretaker for a brain-damaged bitch, Grimmjow," the doctor said coldly as he walked by the man, "The world is full of surprises after all."

"Don't you talk about her like-!"

The door swung closed behind Szayel, his long stride carrying him down the hallway in an instant, rage seething inside of him. He needed to blow off steam, but what to do? He would usually entertain himself by finding some small animal and dissecting it at his apartment, but…

"Leaving so soon, Master Szayel?" Lumina asked subserviently, "Well I hope you-"

After a moment's consideration, Szayel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a Ruger LPC 380 compact pistol, in pulled the trigger in an instant, watching Lumina's head whip back with the force of the bullet that had torn through his skull. The body slumped to the ground with a satisfying thud, and he regarded it curiously.

"L-Lumina…" Verona choked, having witnessed the death from the other side of the room.

"Do you think that hurt him, Verona?" Szayel asked, "Do you think he suffered? I wonder."

Szayel left the body where it was, tucking his gun back into his pocket and leaving the building.

Had it hurt him? Had Yylfordt suffered?

Szayel wondered.