It was with little sleep from the night before that Orihime set off early Thursday morning across town in the company of two of the once most-dreaded Espadas in several dimensions. She was pleased that Ulquiorra's new clothes fit him well despite not bring able to try them on the preceding day, and equally glad Grimmjow had decided on one of his new t-shirts that required no buttons or closures whatsoever.
They found themselves packed into a train of mostly commuters for the early ride, a bit too packed for Orihime's taste.
For Ulquiorra's taste, too, and particularly for Grimmjow's frame of mind as he glared at anyone daring to make eye contact the three of them. In one hand he carried a bag with his new kitchen appliances and a few paint brushes and rollers and tray, in his other two buckets of paint. Orihime carried a second bag with his new clothes and the few bathroom necessities and towels he'd purchased. Ulquiorra had been spared carrying anything.
Fortunately the ride was a short one, and they spilled out near the Tsukiji station a few blocks away from the market, as Orihime decided a few block's walk was safer than being deposited at the closest locale to the pedestrian-heavy market without the chance to walk off any kinks.
The rambling warehouses of the market were packed, the noise of auction and stall-owners calling through the bustling, crowded aisles of tables and displays as the three let themselves in through an open truck door, Grimmjow leading.
Ulquiorra let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the expansive warehouse, mildly interested as his wary gaze moved over the people milling around the tables and butcher stations, the smells of fresh fish, heady flowers, and assorted vegetables in the air.
"The top guy he needs to talk to is here today," Grimmjow said, mostly to Ulquiorra. "Over there," he added, pointing with the hand holding the paint cans to a man near the fork lifts speaking with several other men. "Guy with the blue hat. That's a no visitor zone. I'll send him over."
"Thanks," Orihime said as he moved off, smiling as she turned to Ulquiorra. "That's real help; not common sense."
Ulquiorra nodded reluctantly.
They watched as Grimmjow made his way across the busy market and waited nearly patiently for the man in the blue hat to finish speaking with the other men. For several moments the large Espada conversed, a few times the man with the blue hat and the others turning to look to where Orihime and Ulquiorra stood at one of the butcher stations, most nodding, a few shaking their heads.
Orihime looked to Ulquiorra as he watched.
"I can imagine what he's telling them," he said, eyes on the group of men. "You know it can't be good."
Orihime switched the shopping bag to her other hand, shifting her weight to stand equally on both feet, wishing she'd worn more practical shoes rather than the yellow sandals that matched her tank top. She smiled at him. "He'll be fair."
"You don't know him, Orihime," he said quietly.
"He hasn't been so bad."
He looked quickly to her. "He hasn't?"
Her eyes darted to his as she rethought her statement. "Not really. Not as bad as I expected."
He frowned, still gauging her response. "What did you expect?"
She didn't want to voice what she'd expected. She tried to laugh a little, but her giggle came out more tremulous than she planned. "Well, I told him he had to keep out of my room, if I agreed he could stay a few days, and he did."
"He did?" Ulquiorra looked back to where Grimmjow was still speaking to the men. "Completely?"
She nodded, the truth in it still surprising her. "I thought he'd at least be curious about anything off-limits to him."
His eyes sharpened on the Espada now approaching them. "I'm sure he still is."
"The guy you need to talk to has a meeting right now, but he said he'll speak to you when he's done," Grimmjow said to Ulquiorra as he met up with them. "You wait."
Ulquiorra sighed and nodded. "Thank you."
Orihime nodded. "Good. That's good news, Ulquiorra."
He looked between her and Grimmjow.
Grimmjow's hand tightened on the bag and paint can handles, scowling at Ulquiorra, and then more intently at Orihime. "I'm going now." He reached for the bag she carried with the hand still holding the bag of appliances, his hand taking up more of the handle she held than room permitted. "I'll take it."
She looked down at the bag handle, two of his fingers covering hers, not relinquishing it as her mind turned over a few details in her head. She looked back to him, a slight flush hinting her cheeks. "I'll keep this and bring it with me when we come over to paint."
Grimmjow frowned at her as Ulquiorra frowned at both of them. "You're still coming over to paint today?"
She nodded, smiling more. "I said I would. You have enough to carry, and this is light. You won't need any of what's in this bag yet anyway, Grimmjow."
He looked to the bag of clothes and towels, slowly releasing the handle. "Today?"
She nodded, putting both hands on the bag handle before her. "Ulquiorra can speak with the man after the meeting, and then we'll meet you at your place."
A dour look crossed Ulquiorra's face, but Grimmjow smirked at the idea.
"Do you remember how to get there?" Grimmjow asked her.
"Yup. We won't get lost. Oh, and I'll pick up some paper plates and cups on the way over," she added, bobbing a nod at him. "We haven't done any shopping for kitchenware yet."
While the words we and yet didn't escape Grimmjow, he held up the bag of appliances. "Then what are these?"
"Those are necessities, but you'll need plates and cups and stuff like that, too," she said. "And groceries. Maybe we could do that tomorrow."
He grinned, partly at Ulquiorra's evident annoyance at the plan, who made more of a frown at Orihime.
"I thought he was moving out today," he said, green eyes pinpointed on Orihime as she nodded slowly. "I thought you were done with him after today."
Her attention went from him to Grimmjow and back again. "I told him I'd help paint, and he needs to stock up on groceries." She smiled slightly, the expression less sure. "I didn't mean to presume," she said to Grimmjow, sighing. "I'm sure you don't need help grocery shopping, but I did say I'd help, and I will, but if you don't need me, I won't intrude --"
"I don't know a damn thing about grocery shopping," he said emphatically. "And unless I bring back a slab of tuna from here, I won't know what to get or where to get it. You're coming with me tomorrow."
She nodded, for once the semi-demand not making her wince. She looked to Ulquiorra, who was giving Grimmjow a narrow stare. "You can come, too, so when you get your own place you'll know all about groceries and stuff like that."
Grimmjow grinned at the shorter Espada, chuckling. "Your own place, Fourth. Get that?"
"I heard her. Hurry along, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said in a low tone.
Grimmjow looked to Orihime's smile once more, and then set off to wind his way through the thronging crowd of shoppers, who gave him right of way.
Orihime sighed as she looked to Ulquiorra. "I wonder how long the meeting will take."
He watched Grimmjow disappear into the mass of people among the stalls and butcher tables. He looked back to Orihime and took the bag from her, which she gave up easily. "Let's wait over there," he said, nodding to a bench where a few older women were resting with their purchases, one fanning herself with a folded paper as she breathed heavily in the warm air thickening from the high traffic of people.
Orihime and Ulquiorra found room for themselves at one end of the bench, the older women giving him a thorough study that took several moments. Ulquiorra did his best not to study them in return, his habitual history of classing people by trash and non-trash standards hard to break, especially when he could see no redeeming qualities in the aged faces staring at him.
Orihime watched their attentions, knowing it was inevitable that people would notice. "They don't mean to be rude," she said gently, low enough that only Ulquiorra could hear her, hoping the old women would be deaf as well. "They probably stare at everyone."
He nodded, giving her his full attention, eyes moving over her hair pulled up into a ponytail. "You look different than I remember."
She smiled. "I do? You're a little different, too."
His gaze went from her hair and hair clips to her eyes, to her yellow tank top and pink shorts. "You look so ... calm. Relaxed." An almost imperceptible sadness hinted his eyes. "Not like I recall you looking, Orihime."
She nodded, her sandal shifting at a crack in the floor as a few children ran past them with a mother in pursuit. "Last time I saw you was so final. I thought you were ... gone -- well, I guess you were ..." she sighed. "What I meant was that I didn't think I'd see you again."
He nodded, twisting the bag's braided cord handle in his fingers. "I know what you meant." He looked out at the children that had been caught by their mother and were receiving a stout reprimand. "I suppose you think its justice that I'm -- we're," he corrected with a scowl, "in need of your assistance now. After taking you captive and all the remarks I made about your friends in Hueco Mundo."
She shook her head, watching him as he observed the children's meek looks under their mother's scolding. "Not really." She tried to laugh, hoping he'd cheer up some. "I can't see you going to anyone else in Karakura Town. I mean, no one that I know."
He looked back to her, the slight amusement in her eyes making him want to smile. Only the shadow of a smile lent his face, but he knew she saw it.
She shrugged, sighing in the day's growing heat as the flux of crowd increased as the tuna auction ended. "Did you sleep all right last night?" She bit her lip, and pushed on with her inquiry as he looked to her, her feet swinging slowly back and forth slightly in growing nervousness. "I mean, there's only so much room on the couch, and he takes up a lot of room."
He almost rolled his eyes. "I slept passably well, and yes, he does take up a lot of room."
She thought a little more about it, until Grimmjow's catlike qualities made her nearly giggle, but she clamped a hand over her mouth before she said aloud the thought crossing her mind. It was silly to think cats would purr in their sleep, anyway, she thought.
"How long will it take to paint his ... place?" he asked, watching her swing her legs beneath the bench seat.
"A few hours." She stilled her feet and looked around the market stalls and tables to find a clock. "We should start soon if we're going to finish before he has to leave -- well, come back, I guess -- for work this afternoon." She found a clock over a scale stand that read eight-thirty. "It's so humid already this morning it'll take the paint a long time to dry."
He nodded, glancing back to where he'd last seen the man with the blue hat disappear into one of the side rooms. "Do you want to walk around some?"
She nodded.
They didn't go far, just circulating within the immediate vicinity so Ulquiorra could watch for the man Grimmjow had indicated earlier. The tables and stalls around them were devoted to cut flowers, a few offering houseplants in pots and arrangements. They moved among them with the other shoppers, some of the children pausing at the sight of Ulquiorra to point and whisper, and a few even outright stopping in front of him with questioning stares.
He stared back at a small boy of no more than four years, whose attention was fixated on him at nearly point-blank range.
"Are you crying?" the boy wanted to know.
Ulquiorra frowned slightly at him. "No."
"Are you sad?" the boy asked.
"No," Ulquiorra said as Orihime's hand took his arm.
The boy was about to ask another question when his mother grabbed his collar and yanked him along with her, but not before giving Ulquiorra a curious look of her own.
"Don't let it bother you," Orihime said, cupping her hand under his elbow below the short sleeve of the shirt she hand picked out for him the day before. "He's just young."
"It doesn't bother me," he said, unsure what he was supposed to do in response to her tugging except follow her lead to another table of plants.
"Good." She smiled, and then slipped her hand from his arm when she realized her clutch. She immediately reached for a plant on the table, grasping for something to say. She found herself reaching for a cactus. "Grimmjow didn't want a pet for his new place. I think he should get one, for companionship. Maybe a plant instead." She chose a small cactus with three pads on its trunk, carefully avoiding the spines.
He frowned at the plant. "Companionship is that important to you ..." He almost said humans, but since he was now among the Living to stay, he couldn't very well differentiate them from himself. "Is it really that important?"
"Companionship?" she asked, looking up to him as he studied the plant. "Oh, yes. Very important."
He watched her cautiously turn the plant to look at it from all angles. "It must have been hard on you to be alone in your room at Hueco Mundo."
"Oh, not so much. Not as hard as actually leaving," she said, thinking through her next thought before speaking this time. "It was difficult, yes, but people can live on memories, too, Ulquiorra."
"Not for long."
Something in his tone made her realize he knew what he was talking about. She looked away from the somberness in his eyes, nodding slightly. "That's true."
After a long moment he spoke again. "What is that?"
"A cactus." She held it up for him to see better, reading easily his disinterest in the plant. "Now this he wouldn't have to water very often."
"He'd forget."
She nodded. "He probably would." She looked at the other plants on the table as she set the cactus among the others. "There," she said, cautiously leaning over the prickly plants of various heights to another section of potted foliage. She couldn't quite reach the Venus Flytrap. "Now that would be better," she said, retracting her hand and walking around the table to collect the green plant with an open, pink trap. "A Venus Flytrap."
He followed her and gave the plant a scrutinizing stare, the spiny teeth-like prongs open, waiting. "It looks ominous."
"It is," she said dramatically as he frowned at the plant. "It's waiting on something to come along and land on the pink parts so it can clamp closed and eat it." She snapped her fingers, making him look to her quickly. She smiled. "That's how it eats. Flies and stuff."
"That's a plant?"
She nodded. "That way if Grimmjow forgot to feed it, it could take care of itself. He'd still have to water it, though," she said.
"He'd forget about it," he said, curiosity piqued in the plant.
She nodded, sighing, looking around for the clock again.
He watched her consider the time, and then return her attention to the choice of plants at another table. Much as he disliked suggesting his next idea, it was a means to an end. Orihime was one to keep her promises, he knew firsthand.
"I can wait to talk to the man about work by myself, Orihime," he said reluctantly as she moved along the table to another section of plants. "You can go ahead and get started with your painting. If you want to."
"Oh, oh, no," she said, smiling quickly. "We have time yet." She looked to the closed door where the man with the blue hat had disappeared into over two hours ago. "Maybe he'll be out soon."
Ulquiorra shook his head, taking her hand and placing the bag handle in it. "I'd rather you stay, but if you promised, you promised. Even if it is Grimmjow," he added. "If you trust him, alone."
She made a weak smile. "We've been alone for four days now."
A rare twinge of spite usually reserved for his Espada days flicked through him as he estimated her smile. "If you don't trust him, Orihime, don't go."
"Oh, it's not that," she said, almost meaning it. "But we should get started on the painting."
He frowned as her hand closed firmly around the bag's handle, taking the weight of it.
She nodded. "Yes. Well, do you think you can find his place on your own? It's not too far, but there are a lot of twisty alleys, and --"
He was already shaking his head. "I know how to follow directions. If you tell me where it is, I can find it."
She nodded.
Grimmjow had his work cut out for him as the newest tenant at the Golden Blossom Guest Houses that bright hot morning. After the brief preliminaries of a monthly lease agreement, the tentative rules established for occupying said dwelling, and more money exchanged with the landlord, Grimmjow was given the key to his new bachelor pad
The third level apartment was still housing the smelly boxes and ripped shower curtain, neither of which were in any better shape than they were a few days previous. He set about ridding the place of what he didn't want, putting the boxes on the narrow walkway that ran along the exterior above the courtyard at the entrance, overlooked by the fourth and final floor apartment balconies and walkway above.
As the morning passed and the small apartment was emptied of most of its contents, Grimmjow's mind worked along other avenues than what he wrapped his hands around.
Damn Ulquiorra predominated most of his thoughts, punctuated with an occasional string from the words he'd left on Orihime's fish notepad.
The hours sifted by, his sour mood growing more so as the passing day cut into his attitude, a certain auburn-haired girl's absence only proving what he'd been telling himself for the last thirty-six hours. He almost wished he had more or heavier boxes to throw out.
But then there was a slight commotion heard outside the door at the landing that Grimmjow knew announced Orihime's arrival.
He opened the door to find her standing on the stairwalk landing, carrying the shopping bag in one hand, her other arm wrapped around some potted plant thing, her face lifted to see the leering, grinning neighbor from the fourth floor above who was looking down at her from his balcony, angling his neck for a better look at her cleavage amid the plant fronds that hid her chest.
"... friend moving in today," she said, her ponytail trailing down the back of her mild yellow tank top to the waistband of her pink shorts as she looked up at the twenty-something guy above. She looked to Grimmjow as he snatched the door open. "He's home," she said to the man above her again. "Thanks anyway."
Grimmjow jerked her in by her elbow and stepped out onto the landing to get a better look at the neighbor, who immediately slunk back into his own apartment. Grimmjow closed the door and looked to Orihime standing a few steps inside the apartment. "Don't talk to him. Or anyone here. Why the hell are you here alone? This isn't the place for a female to be walking around alone. Don't you know better? Where's Ulquiorra?"
She frowned at his quick fire questionnaire as she set down the shopping bag. "Ulquiorra's still waiting to speak with that man at the market about work, so I came ahead on my own so we'd have enough time to paint." She held the ferny plant in the cobalt blue pot out to him. "I didn't get lost. Here. It's a house-warming gift."
He took the nearly weightless pot, the dry leafy green plant frills spilling over the sides. "A gift?"
"Yes. A welcome-to-your-new-place gift." She smiled hopefully as he turned the pot, frown decreasing some as he looked the plant over thoroughly. "It's an air fern, so you don't have to water it."
His sharp stare went to her. "At all?"
"Not at all." She reached both hands behind her head to tighten her sagging ponytail, quickening her actions when she saw his eyes go to her chest. "Actually, it's not a plant. The lady at the stand said it's a collection of dried hydroids dyed green to resemble a fern." She realized how depressing the explanation was. "It's kind of already ... dehydrated, so don't water it." She'd meant to say dead, but giving a dead plant to a once-Espada had too many nuisances she didn't want to think about. "Just set it somewhere to decorate. You don't have to do anything for it."
It was supposed to be a selling point, but he gave her a pointed look.
Then it dissolved into something less caustic. "Thanks, Orihime." He looked around at the room, and then set it on the only place there was to set anything -- the kitchen area counter near the window.
She looked the room over, nodding at nothing in particular. "It looks better already."
He looked around. "It's empty."
She nodded. "You've got a lot done."
The only item actually left was the futon, which was pushed to the center of the room, occupying most of the floor space, with enough room to walk around it to the walls. The scraggly kitchen curtain was gone, as was the shower curtain to the bathroom, and the sun finding its way in through the kitchen added a lightness to the room.
He looked to Orihime, who was watching him. "Ulquiorra give you a hard time about skipping out on him?"
"No. It was actually his idea."
"Bullshit."
"It was," she insisted, nodding at the black t-shirt he wore. "Do you like buttonless shirts better?"
He looked down at it. "I guess."
She pushed her bangs out of her eyes in the growing warmth of the day. "Do you want to start painting now? It might take two coats, and we'll have to hurry to get them done before you have to work later."
He nodded, watching her slip off her sandals and slide them beneath the futon. She caught his stare.
"I don't want to get paint on them," she said by way of explanation, turning her back to him, arms crossing in front of her to either side of her shirt hem at her waist. "That's why I wore my paint shirt under --" She'd just grabbed two handfuls of the yellow tank top sides and began to pull them up when she realized she hadn't worn her paint shirt underneath the yellow tank top. She dropped the thin material, blushing as she straightened the shirt excessively.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, eyes still on the shirt she was smoothing at her sides after a very brief glimpse of skin.
"Nothing." She took a deep breath and faced him, the blush still on her cheeks. "I meant to wear my paint shirt underneath, and I forgot to."
He grinned, chuckling. "You can paint in that shirt, can't you?"
She nodded, busying herself at looking around for the paint supplies. "I just ... just ... forgot."
Grimmjow knelt at the futon and pulled out the cans of paint, tray, and set of rollers and two brushes. "How the hell do these things work?"
It took twenty minutes to get set up to paint, and another ten minutes for Orihime to get herself into the bathroom, where she intended to paint, alone. All went well, until the bathroom was done too soon, the small room taking little time, as most of it was shower stall. She painted over the rougher, newly spackled and poorly sanded areas where the wall mirror had previously hung and finished the rest of the walls in little time.
She emerged fifteen minutes later with the first coat of Robin's Egg blue done, and only a little paint on her elbows.
Grimmjow was in the main room, rolling large sweeps of blue on the walls in every direction in wide strokes until the roller brush was out of paint and nearly dry. She didn't say anything about his half-scrubbing technique; after all, it was working and it was his place. She watched him paint the opposite wall near the door, his t-shirt only a little flecked with light blue paint splatters.
The room was already brighter with the fresh coat of paint, the smell of dankness camouflaged by the strong smell of paint, which was already starting to impact Orihime's head, and the change of color livening the apartment despite the colorful argument swelling from the neighbor's unit below.
Orihime made her way around the futon along one newly painted wall, eyes on the ceiling where the blue wall met the white ceiling overhead. "We can use the paintbrush to get the blue close to the ceiling. It'll be easier than using the roller." She glanced to where he was working at the wall. "Do you like the color?"
He nodded, eyes on his work. "Better than what it was."
"I think so, too." She put a hand to her head as an ache started across her forehead. "Want me to start on the edging at the floor?"
He glanced at her, roller in his hand still sweeping across the wall. "You don't have to do that. Sit down."
"I don't mind." She stepped among the roller tray of paint to the set of unused brushes.
Grimmjow paused painting to watch her sort through the bushes and choose one of the thinner ones to use for the edging where the wall met the floor. As she moved her ponytail fell to her shoulder, the tips of the very back strands touched with blue paint. He chuckled.
"You've got blue in your hair, Orihime."
She stood and straightened, fingers pulling her ponytail to where she could see it. She sighed. "Hmm, I guess I wasn't careful enough." She turned her head over her shoulder to see what she could of her back, but the movement was futile.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked as she turned slowly in a small circle, head over her shoulder in an attempt to see the back of her shirt.
"I thought I might have paint on my back."
He took a step closer to her around the futon as she looked to him. "Turn around."
She slowly pivoted her back to him, her choice of paintbrush still in her hand.
He moved her ponytail to one side, taking a moment to push every single strand of hair over her shoulder, checking thoroughly until Orihime decided he was taking altogether too much time.
She looked up at him.
"No paint," he said finally as she met his eyes. He turned back to his painting.
"Thanks."
For a few long moments neither said anything, each occupied with their own painting. The argument below finally blew itself out, replaced by music from a radio being turned up louder.
"When's he moving out?" Grimmjow asked suddenly.
Orihime had just knelt at the floor on the other side of the futon, hidden from his view, her careful brushstrokes covering the old paint near the floor at the wall. "Ulquiorra? We haven't talked about it yet."
"Why not?"
She frowned, the angle of leaning over the floor making her headache worsen with the paint fumes. "Well, I guess ... we will tonight."
Grimmjow muted the growl he wanted to roar. "Five days should be sufficient."
She sighed, sitting back on her knees, not looking at him over the futon as she dipped the brush into the can of paint nearby. "You should get a pet."
When he didn't say anything, she finished dabbing off the excess paint on the can edge and leaned over the wall again. "Does the landlord allow pets here?"
"Yes."
She smiled. "Oh? You asked?"
There was a slight pause. "It came up when we were talking about the lease."
She nodded, making careful strokes with the brush near the floor, watching the blue cover the pitted surface of the wall. "How about a kitten? Maybe that orange tabby from the pet shop."
"It would just get lost," he said.
"It would find you," she said, holding her breath as the brush touched up the trim near the floor. "Kittens are like that. You'd just have to sit down somewhere and it would find you, Grimmjow."
"... Maybe."
She smiled, nodding. "That would be..." she thought about the word, and then said it anyway, "nice." Maybe it was the headache talking.
He stepped around the futon and leaned over to draw the paint roller brush along the tray's shallow end of paint, watching her bend over her legs to meticulously paint the wall where it met the wooden floor. "Ulquiorra really suggested you should leave the market early?"
She nodded, intent on her work, one hand holding her ponytail to her neck to keep it off the floor. "Yup. He said a promise was a promise." She didn't add the rest of Ulquiorra's phrasing.
Grimmjow turned back to his own work, the paint roller leaving a wide path of blue over the dulled wall surface. "Don't let him fool you, Orihime. He hasn't changed any. He's still as much Espada as I am."
She frowned at the wall. "You're both human now."
"Only in form."
She sighed. He certainly is going to fight the change as long as possible, she thought, dabbing the brush bristles at the chipped surface near the floor. "The rest will come along, eventually, Grimmjow," she said gently, glad that the futon was between them. She didn't look at him, but could feel the shadow of his stare from the opposite wall. She still didn't look at him. "It won't be so bad."
"What the hell is so good about being fully human? Tell me that."
She sat back on her legs as the headache got the better of her. "Arrancars miss out on the good things that separate them from the Living. I know you think it's just a heart, a weakness, but it's necessary to the Living. Not only the physical aspects; the emotional ones, too."
"You think all that talk about hearts and shit affected Ulquiorra?"
This time his voice was nearer and she looked up to see him at the end of the futon. "I think it did, yes."
He shook his head at her faith in herself. "You're fooling yourself, girl. He didn't get to be Fourth by having a heart." He turned back to the tray and rolled the brush through the paint.
"I think he developed some qualities of a heart," she said, frowning, intent on her belief as she leaned forward to dip the brush into the can of paint.
"You want to believe he did. You want so much to believe you had the ability to persuade him," he said, turning from the wall, the roller in his hand as he watched her sit back and resume painting along the floor. "Aizen gave him orders, and Ulquiorra followed them. That was it. Whatever it took to make carrying out those orders easier, Ulquiorra did. That's it. That's all."
"Is that what you did?" Orihime's hand froze around the paintbrush handle, her ears unbelieving the noose her tongue was tying. "What I meant, Grimmjow, was did --"
"I know what the hell you meant," he growled, eyes narrowing on her when she chanced to sit straighter to peek at him over the futon back. "Damn right. We all did. The difference is that some of us did as little as possible, while others couldn't get enough of trying to please him. It didn't matter in the end anyway how we went about what we did."
She sighed, breathing easier that whatever anger he had wasn't focused on her. She touched the paint at the wall's bottom and then scooted along on her knees to the next section. "It mattered. How you went about it, it mattered."
She looked up as he rounded the futon to load the roller with paint at the tray. She wasn't sure what was in his face, not his usual scowl, something other than the low-key frustration at being among the Living.
"What the hell do you know about any of it?" he said, running the roller along the tray's dimpled shallow end, eyes on the blue paint at the fingertips of her free hand.
"You were fairer than a lot of the others," she said, ready for the brunt of his amusement at either her silliness or ignorance.
Instead his hand paused on the roller's handle, frowning at her as he squatted across from the tray of paint. "If you're talking about that maggot Ichigo, yeah, I wanted a fair fight. Nothing wrong or weak about that, Orihime."
She nodded, putting her hand under the brush's bristles as the paint collected at the end, her eyes still on his harsh expression. "I don't think it was weak at all. That's what I was talking about." She waited until he stood up and went back to the wall that was half painted. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, debating to voice what she wanted to add. "You could've fought a wounded opponent. It would have been to your advantage."
"What the hell's all this about, Orihime?" he grumbled, making rapid swipes with the roller along the wall. "You didn't want to heal him, remember that part?"
"Yes." She put a hand to her head as the paint fumes inflamed the ache at her forehead. "I can't see Nnoitra wanting a fair fight."
"I am nothing like Nnoitra."
"I know." She set the brush at the tray edge and stood up, her stomach unsettled from the smell of the paint. She stepped to the side of the tray and can of paint, her derrière bumping the futon back, making her step away, nearer to the wall than she thought, and realized too late there wasn't enough clearance.
Two roundish smears of blue rubbed onto her chest's highest spots, coloring the yellow tank top in baby moon patches of fresh paint. She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, her first impulse to put a hand to one side, which resulted in three fingerprints tracking from one side like a dotted trail.
She glanced quickly to Grimmjow, who had looked at her when she'd caught her breath. His eyes were locked on her shirt's new decorations, a grin starting across his face as a blush grew over her cheeks.
She turned around, her back to him, looking around for a paper towel, finding none.
"Damn, girl. You've got a new paint shirt now," he said with a chuckle.
"I, I ... uh, I didn't think it ... was..." She gave up on trying to say anything, eyes searching the kitchen's small counter for something to use. There was nothing. Not even a sponge. Just boxes of appliances.
"Turn around."
She shook her head, which only added to the blush on her cheeks until she felt like she was glowing red. Her arms paused before her, half ready to cross over her chest, but halting when she thought more about the paint on her fingers.
She went into the small kitchen, feeling every degree of the hot day, the headache burning through her forehead with the new embarrassment. The counter was void of anything to help, and she realized that they'd forgotten a few necessities of housekeeping.
"Here."
She looked to her side when Grimmjow's voice was too near, hovering at her shoulder as he looked over her ponytail to assess the damage. He held one of his button-up shirts before her, the teal one she'd picked out at the store.
She loosely crossed her arms before her, inadvertently wiping blue on the side of her shirt as she did, looking reluctantly to him.
"I don't want to get paint on your new --"
"Take it, dammit. Just put it on." He held the shirt closer, his grin still there, but not as evil as she'd imagined it would be.
She freed one hand to move a few fingers to the shirt, but he stuffed the material into her palm until she took it.
She nodded and turned her back to him, deciding the small bathroom -- curtainless, doorless bathroom engulfed in paint fumes -- offered about as much privacy as the main room. She slipped into the shirt, the long sleeves hanging over her hands by a foot or more. She spent several moments rolling up the cuffs to her elbows, still feeling him watching from behind her.
"I'd think you'd be used to clearing those by now," he said, the grin evident in his voice.
So much for the brief slack in unwelcome comments, she thought. Her head hurt too much to think of a comeback. "I should be," she heard herself say, wincing at the words. She gathered the shirt ends that hung past her shorts and tied them at her waist, taking a moment to fasten a few of the buttons at her chest so the blue splotches on her shirt were hidden. She turned around, bracing herself for his remarks.
He nodded. "Better, I guess."
"Thanks for letting me use the shirt."
"Can't have that bat ogling you all the way home," he said as she eased past him to the futon.
She nodded slightly, but not in agreement, the heat of the day concentrating her headache. She looked to the door that faced north, thinking that the balcony over the walkway would offer some shade. "I need to get some air. I think the paint fumes are getting to me."
He leaned closer to her face, scowl snapping back into place as she shied away. "Are you ill?"
"No, just too much," she gestured to the paint can and tray of blue, "paint smell. That's all."
The change of air outside, slightly cooler in the overhang of the balcony above, was welcome to Orihime as she leaned against the faded paint siding of the building. Grimmjow moved a few of the boxes farther away on the landing, eyeing her as she pressed her back to the wall, deciding that the enormous shirt on her small frame hid the paint on her tank top all too well. He glanced up to see the neighbor guy looking down, trying to see between the metal grate of the balcony walkway over Orihime in hopes of a better glimpse between the collars of the shirt she'd tied in front of her chest.
Grimmjow glared at him. "You should move out," he said lowly.
The neighbor slipped back into his apartment and shut the door.
Orihime closed her eyes for a long moment, hands to either side of her against the wall as a dizzy spell passed over her, the heat of the day adding to the uncirculating air of the apartment.
Grimmjow watched her, the few strands of blue-tipped hair on her shoulder nearly matching the shirt, both bare feet together before her as she inhaled deeply the late morning sunny air. He'd finished his study of her and was still looking at her pink toenails when she opened her eyes and looked at him. On impulse her toes curled, making his gaze flick to her face.
"Any better?"
She nodded a little, the motion making her headache worsen. "The paint smell doesn't bother you?"
His attention had darted to the street below at a movement, his view broken by a rope of laundry strung across the alley. "Damn him," he mumbled.
She pushed off from the wall and stood nearer to him to see Ulquiorra spotting them from the street below. He looked from her to Grimmjow, and then found the staircase at the first floor apartment below.
Orihime turned and leaned her back against the rail of the walkway, focusing on Grimmjow watching her. She looked back in through the open door of the apartment that was almost completely finished in new blue paint, giving the place a much-needed lift.
"Maybe you shouldn't stay here tonight," she said, nearly regretting the words as soon as they were past her lips. She was quite certain of her mistake as a quick grin crossed his face.
Then the scowl was back again as he took a step closer. "Ulquiorra say something rude to you?"
"No, no," she said, shaking her head until it hurt. "I was just thinking about the smell of the paint, and how -- after the apartment's been closed up while you work for the afternoon and evening, and in the heat -- well, it's going to smell a lot worse, and sleeping in those kind of fumes could make you ill."
He nodded slowly, watching her speak, not really looking to fault her logic or pick an argument with anything she said. He grinned wider, making her lean back to the rail more, arms crossing at her chest over the double layer of shirts as Ulquiorra reached them.
"I mean, if you come back after work and the fumes are too strong..." she added, feeling caught between what she considered a health issue and the prospect of having one less Espada for the night. "Unless it doesn't bother you."
He nodded, this time his expression not quite a grin or a scowl, something in between, more along the lines of...
... appealing?
Good grief, she thought with chagrin, the fumes and the heat are warping my brain.
Ulquiorra had reached them, looking slightly miffed at his wait at the market, the walk, the heat, and the proximity of the couple before him, gaze falling over Orihime's attire before locking onto Grimmjow.
He frowned, looking back to her. "Why are you wearing his shirt?"
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