Oh man. I have just been way too preoccupied lately. I've had a great amount of free time, but… I guess I just procrastinated on getting this chapter started. Sorry guys. ^^;;

Started June 9th

Completed June 19th

Authoress: Desperatembrace

Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. Misery.

Warning:

Yaoi

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Chapter 11

So Contenting

Fingers rubbed lightly at abdominal muscles, soothing the quivering mass. Ichigo let out a soft sigh before looking up determinedly, a faint pink staining his cheeks.

Was this really happening?

The orange haired male reluctantly let his hand fall away from his stomach, eyes locked on the brass numbers adorning the door before him. The very door that he had been standing in front of just 3 short days ago. Abruptly, the memory of an urgent lip-to-lip touch flooded his mind, the pink on his cheeks deepening into a dark red.

No, the real question was: Did he have the guts to do this? Did he have the determination and the resolution to simply lift his hand and knock on that navy blue door that housed a man with a much more brilliant hair color? He shook his head, dispelling the oddly fond turn his thoughts had taken. That didn't usually happen. Honest.

Ichigo shifted on his feet, leaning more to one side as he considered the door. That was indeed the question that needed to be asked. After all of this time, he had made it up to this point. Though, looking back, it could probably be all attributed to luck. But what did he know? He was simply a lowly college student trying to make his way through life with as little trouble as possible. Of course, he obviously didn't have much luck in that aspect considering that he conveniently ran into Grimmjow. Again, the orange haired man shook his head. He was getting off topic. Again. He seemed to do that a lot. He had always been the introverted, careful-consideration type, so perhaps that was just something that he would have to live with for the rest of his life.

He growled under his breath. His tendency to get off-topic was really unnecessary at that point in time. In the back of his mind, there was a whisper, subtle yet amused that deigned to inform him that he was only trying to put off the inevitable.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself. Mentally forcing the wandering thoughts aside, Ichigo went back to the problem at hand. Did he have the courage to lift his arm and rap his knuckles on that wood just a short six inches away?

Just as his fingers twitched in order for him to make the move that he had been visualizing in his head, the door swung open, and there stood his eternal problem.

It seemed it no longer mattered whether or not he had the courage.

Blinking slightly, Grimmjow stood frozen, watching the younger man. There was a moment where his stomach did a back-flip in his abdomen, briefly giving him a giddy feeling. However, he pushed that back, instead deigning to reward his guest with a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Forget how to knock?" he teased lightly, internally wondering where the hell the newly soft and playful nature came from. Usually it would be a total onslaught of merciless jesting. Though, he leveled to himself, it could probably be the product of wanting something (a lot) more long term than a simple fuck.

Ichigo flushed on the doorstep, falling back into the huffing anger that always seemed to flood into him so naturally. It wasn't like an actual anger—it was light—a lot more easygoing and less serious. It made him more comfortable with the awkward situations that constantly seemed to happen between him and the older man. It also made him feel a lot more contented around him. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all. He could actually get along with Grimmjow—even with his natural unrefined personality when it came to interacting with the people around himself.

He was cut from his thoughts when a loud grumble issued from his stomach. He blinked slightly, looking up from the concrete floor outside of Grimmjow's doorway (when had he looked down?), and locked his brown eyes onto brilliant blue orbs. They held each-others gaze for a few moments before Grimmjow closed his eyes with a snicker, shaking his head slightly. Finally, the older man backed up into the threshold, opening the door a little bit wider for the red head to step in.

Casting aside the worried whisper at the back of his mind, the orange haired young man put one foot in front of another until he was almost mechanically making his way into the living room. Grimmjow followed along behind him, circling around him and pointing to a comfy looking plush couch. "Wait there for a few minutes," he simply said and then he was already disappearing through another door.

Pushing back the scowl that wanted to take place on his lips, Ichigo slowly made his way over to the couch, eyes concentrated on the thick beige carpet beneath his feet. When he finally sat down, he exhaled, consciously forcing himself to breathe. After finally making a quick decision, he tore his eyes from the carpet and observed the room around him.

He was pleasantly surprised. With Grimmjow being the haughty, quite obviously stuck-up person that he was, Ichigo assumed that his house (apartment) would reflect that nature to the t. But it was a lot different from what one would expect. All of the colors were simple and down-to-earth. Browns, oranges, maroons… it made him think of autumn. After glancing around a bit (and gazing in awe at the huge stereo system that occupied one wall), Ichigo finally began to relax, letting himself sink into the soft cushions. He let out a soft sigh, finally allowing his tense muscles to unwind. A mere couple of seconds after letting himself settle back, Grimmjow waltzed back into the room, wiping his hands off on a pristine white dish towel.

The blue haired young man stopped in front of the younger, taking his time to dry each and every one of his fingers before he shifted his weight onto one foot and swiveled quickly, ducking his head. He playfully extended an arm to the doorway, and said, "Dinner is served."

At hearing Ichigo's scoff, Grimmjow looked up with a smirk, gaze rising just in time to catch a perfect eye shot of the red head's jean-clad ass as he strode by. The smirk deepened, eyes becoming somewhat darkened as he fought the naughty thoughts back. Straightening up hastily, he padded along behind Ichigo, keeping his itching hands at bay. I want this to last, he reminded his hands. It wouldn't do for Ichigo to run out on him because he couldn't keep his hands from groping at the perfect ass. That would happen in due time. Until then, he had a date to lead…

"If you'll just turn to your right, good sir," he said clearly, chuckling slightly at the scowl aimed at him over the man's shoulder. Apparently the younger man felt a little embarrassed about the ongoing teasing. Oh well. He would get used to it eventually.

Ichigo paused before he approached the table, thrown off by the ridiculous amount of food covering the table-top. After getting a small prod on the back (and surprisingly, not jumping at the unexpected contact), Ichigo made his way over to the table. Just as he was about to pull out a chair, however, Grimmjow stopped him and pulled it out for him, smiling deviously as he said, "Allow me."

Restraining himself from twitching (and quite possibly punching the man), Ichigo grudgingly sat down in the chair, glaring at the obnoxious blue hair as it made its way around the table to the opposite side. Just as Grimmjow slid into the seat across from him, Ichigo narrowed his eyes and muttered, "I'm not a woman."

Blinking slightly, Grimmjow gave him an odd look before raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. And I wouldn't ever mistake you for one."

Ichigo was thrown for a loop. That wasn't exactly an answer he expected to hear. Of course, he didn't expect anything along the lines of 'oh really? I hadn't noticed' either, but still… Before he had time to contemplate over the odd warring of his feelings, Grimmjow continued, "But tonight you are my date and a guest in my home, so I will treat you as such." Again, he gave a lopsided smirk, an obvious challenge for him to defy his logic. And again, Ichigo relented, sitting back in his seat.

Grimmjow nodded to himself, glancing over the different dishes spread across the tabletop carefully. Finally, he looked up and jerked his head slightly. "Well? Get yourself some food, princess. I know you're starving." He chuckled at the low growl that Ichigo gave in response, but deigned to say nothing. So long as Ichigo got himself some food (which he was finally starting to do), he was content. Ichigo took a plate from the small stack in the middle and glanced at each of the dishes.

What in the hell was he supposed to eat? There was so much…

The blue haired man seemed to notice his dilemma and laughed quietly. Ahhh, Ichigo always seemed to make a big deal out of everything. Almost everything required a good amount of thinking for the younger male… Oh well. It was just the way he was.

Finally, he spoke up. "You don't have to eat everything. If you're not sure you'd like something, just try it and go from there. You don't have to eat it if you don't like it." Still, Ichigo looked torn, eyes shifting from each small platter every few seconds. Grimmjow merely shook his head and pointed out a few dishes. "That right there is Mediterranean chicken with eggplant. Next to it is some roasted garlic and oregano potatoes…" He shifted his hand, pointing out a few more. "Thai sesame noodles, sautéed shrimp and scallops, simple alfredo pasta…" He trailed off, seeing the lost look that Ichigo had on his face.

Ichigo was perplexed. The blue haired man had just rattled off a lot of words that he had no understanding of. He didn't cook. It just simply didn't work like that. Sure, he may work in a restaurant, but he was a waiter. He was simply a transport for the food. Nothing more. Ichigo followed Grimmjow's finger with his eyes, desperately trying to remember what name he gave to what.

It wasn't working.

He heard a snort from across the table and a slight clinking of silverware. Looking away from the mind-boggling dishes, he shifted his face just in time to see Grimmjow leaning forward and stealing the plate from in front of him. Before he could protest, the older man had started loading a bunch of different things on the plate. After quite a few different varieties of foods being added on, the heap was set in front of him, taunting him with its various colors and the delicious aroma. He felt Grimmjow nudge him with his foot and glanced at the man, freezing when he saw the soft smile that was on the man's lips.

"Go ahead and eat. I know you're hungry."

Forcing himself to snap away from the wondrous sight, Ichigo reached down and picked up a fork, staring at his plate. Now he was wondering where to start. Decisions, decisions. His stomach growled, irritated with his prolonged thinking and lack of eating. He stabbed at a random piece of food. He should really stop over-thinking everything. Because of that, his stomach was practically eating itself. Popping the morsel into his mouth, Ichigo chewed, pausing slightly. It was good.

Really good.

Noticing that Grimmjow had stopped getting his own food and started watching him, Ichigo began to chew again, swallowing the bite after a bit of hesitation. Without changing the speed in which he was eating, he continued spearing bite after bite, acting as if he had no idea Grimmjow was watching him. Finally, the blue haired man frowned then continued to pile up his own plate.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ichigo resolutely keeping silent. Actually, it wasn't that he wanted to keep quiet. He just couldn't help it. This was the first time that he had been in such an intimate situation. Which was kind of sad, considering that there was no… touching involved. Abruptly, the scene from 3 days before flashed through his mind. His fork fell to the plate with a clang and he reached up to cover the flush that was spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. Grimmjow cleared his throat, causing brown eyes to snap to attention.

"…You okay?" The older male asked, unsure. Ichigo shifted in his seat and gave a sharp nod. "Yeah," he responded. "Fine."

Grimmjow gave a soft snort and decided that the silence was enough. "Do you like it?" he asked. Across from him, his date let his hand fall from his face. Seeing the slight tint of pink on Ichigo's cheeks, Grimmjow quietly chuckled. The red head licked his lips (Grimmjow couldn't help it that his eyes followed that motion… he shouldn't do it!) and then seemed to steel himself. Brown eyes locked on striking blue and then Ichigo said, "Yes. Very."

Blinking at the oddly forward admission, the blue haired man felt warmth crawling through his body. It was one thing for someone to compliment his cooking. It was in a whole other ball-park when the person you were trying to court complimented it. He had never felt like that from a simple two words. Never. Ignoring the odd tingling inching into his limbs and down to his fingertips, he asked, "Really?"

What? So he liked to bask in the praise a bit. So sue him.

Ichigo nodded, oblivious to the obnoxious reason that Grimmjow was pursuing the subject… Okay, so maybe he wasn't oblivious… but it really didn't come as a surprise at that point. It was just the way the older man was. He got over that a long time ago.

Shaking his head slightly, Ichigo kept his smirk in check. Shifting his chair back a bit, he maneuvered his arm to point out the different foods on his plate. "This right here has a very strong flavor..." he hesitated, eyebrows furrowing. Again, he knew nothing about food. How the hell was he supposed to honestly tell the man why he enjoyed it? After pausing, he internally shrugged. It was more than obvious he knew absolutely nothing about food... So he would just wing it. Grimmjow would understand, right?

"..I'm guessing it's from onion..?" He fished slightly, glancing up at Grimmjow. The man grinned and gave a sharp nod. Grimmjow found it very amusing. Not only was the whole situation of Ichigo floundering just generally humorous, but...

As Ichigo continued commenting about the meal and what he liked about it ("...I don't think I've ever really tasted potatoes with this seasoning..."), Grimmjow leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Ichigo was-dare he say it?-very cute. He knew that Ichigo didn't have much experience when it came to dating and all of that intimate stuff. It was more than a little obvious with the way that the orange haired youth naturally was. Being the awkward, withdrawn person that he was, there was little chance of him having found someone to really open up to. Even at this point, with Grimmjow (more or less) 'courting' him, he knew that Ichigo still hadn't fully opened up. There would have had to have been someone with a more obnoxious and unrelenting character than himself. And he had high confidence that there weren't many people standing above him in that regard.

It was just... adorable how Ichigo was trying so hard. It was obvious that the younger man knew nothing about the food... but he was trying to create a deeper connection between the two of them. Honestly, it was rather flattering.

Grimmjow groaned lowly to himself. He didn't think the day would come where he found himself flattered by the very person who's pants he was trying to get into. He frowned slightly. No, he had to rephrase that. That wasn't correct.

He didn't think the day would come that he would find someone that he seriously and whole-heartedly wanted to be with.

Snapping back to the real world when Ichigo tilted his head in a confused manner, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and fervently hoping he hadn't missed something of importance. He really didn't want to fuck this up.

Something of a bemused frown pulled at the red head's lips, shifting them into an unintended lopsided scowl. He picked up his fork and stuck it into the Thai Sesame Noodles on his plate. After a quick twirl, the noodles were neatly wrapped around the prongs of his fork. He waved it slightly, drawing blue eyes toward it. "It's just... This tastes strange." Almost immediately after the words had left his mouth, brown eyes shot up from where they had been staring at the near-empty plate before him. He waved his hand slightly, fork wagging with the motion and said, "Don't get me wrong, they taste good, just..."

Again he frowned, eying the fork-ful of noodles. Grimmjow blinked for a moment before it dawned on him. "Oh..." He chuckled slightly, leaning back with a shrug. "That's probably because there's peanut butter in it."

A surprised expression flitted across Ichigo's face and he stared down at the noodles left on his plate incredulously. "Peanut butter..?" he trailed off, noticing the superior smirk on Grimmjow's face. Before he was able to ask, the older man had already began to answer. "It really offsets all of the other flavors and brings in a small mix of sweet." He shrugged to himself once more. "It's just the way that particular recipe goes, I suppose."

Ichigo contemplated his words for his moment before giving up. He would just leave all of the technical food stuff to Grimmjow. It was better that way.

After that quick conversation, Ichigo relaxed a bit more into the atmosphere, feeling less awkward and out of place. The rest of dinner proceeded in light, comfortable chatter.

After the both of them had finished their dinner, Grimmjow had led Ichigo to the living room, plopping the red head down on the couch as he sat down in front of him on the floor.

Without even realizing how awkward this particular situation would normally be for him, Ichigo shifted on the cushions and looked down at Grimmjow with something of a contemplative expression. There was a moment before he said, "I think you'll do great."

Blinking slightly, Grimmjow did a quick rewind. What the hell was he talking about now?

Noticing the confused look on the opposing man's face, the red head lifted an eyebrow and said, "Your… dream…" It felt weird to say something so cheesy. "You're a great cook. I think your restaurant will turn out to be one of the best." Oddly enough, he could easily imagine Grimmjow in such a setting. In fact, it came easier to mind than the memories of his own experience in Soul Reaper's kitchen. Actually, the memories probably just blurred together because people were constantly rushing about, throwing around pots and pans and slopping food onto their respective plates.

Yeah… he was glad he worked in the front of the restaurant. He likely wouldn't be able to keep up with all of the urgent scrambling back in the kitchen.

Grimmjow, however, seemed like the type who would do rather well in that sort of environment. He could see it now, the older man barking out orders and yelling at the poor new employee who didn't fry or bake something the right way.

The older man just always seemed to be in control of things. Like even though the whole world is halfway gone to hell, he could just snatch it back up and sit it upright with a simple flick of the hand. That was just the way he was. A position of leadership and higher standing definitely suited him. It just happened that his other talent lay in the culinary arts. So he would be head chef and owner of his own restaurant. Yes, it definitely fit the man. He could push past any problem thrown his way, no sweat.

Speaking of problems … Ichigo frowned to himself. There was still the matter informing Grimmjow of their… dual complication.

Grimmjow cleared his throat, having noticed chocolate brown eyes dimmed. When Ichigo blinked and refocused his vision, he came upon the sight of the blue haired man shifting onto his haunches. When their gazes connected, electric blue orbs glanced off to the side, the man apparently needing to regather his thoughts. Not that Ichigo was complaining. He was still trying to gather his own thoughts.

How the hell was he supposed to tell Grimmjow?

He was over-thinking things again. Ichigo opened his mouth, steeling himself. He would just have to spit it out. He couldn't keep on thinking over the matter. This was happening now. He'd made his decision and he would have to follow through with it.

When Grimmjow questioningly glanced at him, however, he caved. Now that he was up close and personal, he couldn't say it. He couldn't help it. It wasn't really something that could be said out loud so easily. This wasn't something that could just be randomly thrown out there. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, yeah, Grimmjow? Well, remember all those weird times that I seem to yell out simultaneously as you when you hurt yourself? Yeah. I can feel your pain.' Hell, he might as well tack on a request. 'It would be nice if you could stop hurting yourself.'

Oh, yes. That would work out brilliantly.

Realizing that Ichigo probably wasn't going to speak, Grimmjow steeled himself for what he was going to say. Taking a deep breath, he made sure that he had the red head's full attention before saying, "Ichigo, will you…" He hesitated, feeling absolutely ridiculous for having to speak this sentence, these words,out loud.

"Will you date me? Be my boyfriend?"

Ichigo didn't move, instead choosing to stare at the man before him. There was a somewhat awkward silence for a few moments, and Grimmjow was already feeling the tell-tale signs of panic's icy hands gripping him. Then, Ichigo leaned forward, tilting his head somewhat as he rested his hands on the cushions on either side of his thigh and said, "Wasn't this already established by my accepting your date?"

Grimmjow couldn't help but fall on his ass in surprise. Noticing the strange reaction, Ichigo couldn't help but be confused. "I may be no expert… nor do I have much experience… but doesn't that generally count us as… boyfriends?" He stumbled over the last word, only just honestly realizing it himself.

…And he found that he didn't really mind it all that much.

Before he could really think about it, he was already expanding on his prior statement.

"Isn't that what we already are? ... Lovers?" He asked, a little more quietly as the revelation really sank in. He was in a relationship with this man in front of him. Grimmjow looked up, something resembling a beaming smile twitching at his lips. They were both content.

"Yeah. That's what we are," Grimmjow murmured.

-Chapter End-

Okay: question. How many of you ever-so-briefly thought the very opening paragraph was a sex scene? Or just a generally perverted scene? Just out of curiosity. I didn't really intend it that way, but when editing, I went back and noticed it sort of sounded like it so I changed it to make it hint toward that a little more.

Alright. So… I found this chapter to be a little bit weird to write out because… I actually had to do a little bit of research on all the dishes that Grimmjow busted out. Don't get me wrong—I like to cook and do cook, but I just sort of… make things. Make my own stuff up. I don't make things that already have names except for the obvious—spaghetti, lasagna, mac n' cheese, pizza—obvious stuff. XD

Bah. I know this took forever. I'm so sorry. I feel like I'm always apologizing to you guys. Ugh. Anyways. Not even gonna bother making excuses. I'm pretty sure nobody cares. Haha.

Oooooh. Only one more chapter and then the epilogue. D:

Mercy?

Review,

Review,

Review!