Surprised? Me too! o_o The time line of this chapter isn't very linear at first. As often happens in this story. After the first section, which had a flashback, it goes into a another flashback which is just minutes into the past. That's because the flashing back part was actually the original start of this chapter. And I didn't like it as the start. And I felt like I wanted to address a bunch of things with Grimmjow to start things off instead.
I'm disorganized like that. :D **flings papers and sticky notes in every direction and waits for pretty snowfall of paper to gently cover her up to her head** =_=
Junichiblue
CHAPTER 28
It was well after noon when Grimmjow's day finally began to get as interesting as his night had been.
He'd finished his morning workout, showered, dressed, then gathered his hockey bag and set it by the door. With energy to spare.
He'd slept well. Really well.
Fuck. He'd practically knocked himself out with one of the most intense ... (PARAGRAPH DELETED).
He didn't exactly stop afterward to ponder where that had come from. Or when imagining had become better than the real thing.
It was good. That was enough. Fuck, it was good.
Shit, he hadn't even had the energy to do little more than kick his sweats off an with a handful of bunched up tissues before he'd closed his eyes and passed right out. The tissues were still in a dried clump on the bedside table when he woke up, right where he'd tossed them. Right beside his phone. He'd gone for that first thing, glad he'd had enough muscle control left after he'd cum to miss hitting it.
He felt himself wake in a hurry. Turned out he'd gotten another text from Ichigo late last night, sometime after he'd fallen asleep. So, he'd missed it. Shame. But the text was there, on his phone, when he'd risen and scrolled – naked and yawning and filing his nails across his scalp - through his messages. Like a shiny little beacon, the name had had his thumb working against the screen before anything else could even capture a whiff of his attention.
And it had somehow set the tone for the day as he sat with his long legs stretched out over the side of his bed.
The message was a simple confirmation that they were going to meet up today. And a time. As well as a note that Ichigo needed to make a couple of charity related stops along the way to their destination.
Grimmjow was almost surprised that Ichigo had kept to their plans after the way he'd messed with him last night. He'd also recognized the abrupt sense of anticipation he'd felt when he saw that the message was from Ichigo, which was annoying at the time.
It still was. And made all the more annoying because, now awake, he realized, that for the second time, he' it with Kurosaki Ichigo anywhere near his thoughts.
For a moment, he'd hesitated to reply to the text. Once was forgivable. Twice was becoming a habit. And a bad one. He was really starting to wonder about himself.
Now, Grimmjow didn't have a problem with the idea of experimentation. Especially sexual. Whatever got your rocks off, and all. Unless you were half dead, everyone had their preferences and their kinks. But it had never really been on his mind to experiment with guys.
Now, on some level, it most certainly fucking was.
Tha he'd been thinking about. That image. That was not female. That was not rounded, or feminine, or soft in any way. That was athletic, perfectly rounded, toned, and (muscular), a memory – fat and sharpened by weeks of close-quartered exposure - of a gorgeous, X X X that belonged to his wanna-be better half. He should know. He was the one having the experience.
Well, he'd clearly gone way too long without getting laid properly if an image the likeness of Kurosaki was starting to look like a good idea.
But he rationalized his way out (he knew it) and figured, fuck it. He had one or two of his own fetishes, and this was just another one to add to the shortlist. Girl's or guy's. He wasn't gonna sweat it. He had way too much on his mind to worry about who or what he X X X. What with coming back for the second time this season, taking care of his ma, and trying like hell to figure out this whole Kurosaki problem.
He grunted, giving himself a stern head shake.
How the hell had he ended up with Kurosaki being twice the problem he'd ever been?
Grimmjow's car idled in it's spot as he studied the cement structure that rose high into the skyline beyond the tinted glass of the driver's side window.
He had his choice of parking spots in the visitor's section, the bulk of the heavy snowfall having already been cleared away from last night's vicious storm by the efficient staff at Kurosaki Ichigo's tidy little apartment complex. His lip twitched into a sneer before he turned away and shut off the engine then popped the trunk.
Grimmjow opened the door, the heavy tread of his winter boot biting into the cold snow-covered pavement with a grinding creak as he hauled himself out of the darkness of his heated car and rose into white-bright, crisp, and frigid winter air. A cold snap.
His breath puffed out, caught on frozen air, and fell away.
He shut the door and stepped around the back of the car. It didn't really bother him. The cold. He was born into it. It made him. It raised him. It gave him a life, a passion, a purpose, and a means to live well. That wasn't to say he didn't ultimately prefer the freedoms and pleasures that the heat of summer provided. The feel of the sun's heat out on the water, the lazy sprawl of humid summer nights, and the light feel of bare skin. They were all much less hassle than bundling up for the arctic air and sludging through drifts of snow.
He also never took that time for granted, because those few precious months in between the hockey season took the pressure of being an enforcer off of him for awhile.
And Grimmjow was a lucky one. He could pursue other interests. He didn't have to play the good boyfriend or be Mr. mom like many of the players with families did. He was free to do his own thing. Like hitting a club when he felt that restless need, or renting a cottage by himself or with a couple of buddies and jet skiing off the beach. Camping out under the stars by the fire was the best. Traveling and exploring were never boring. Hell, even a game of golf wasn't beyond Grimmjow's scope, as much of a joke as it was in the hockey world. He liked everything.
The summer months weren't all his though. At their level, the players only received a few weeks off from training. That never stopped in the NHL. Fitness had to be kept up; strength, reflexes, cardiovascular. And for most guys, it only took a few weeks off to lose that physical edge, and to have to work three times as hard just to hope to catch up.
Physicality was right in Grimmjow's wheelhouse. But the enforcing part; the game, the fans, the pressure... even though he loved it, the pressure was immense. And despite the bruises, the physical exhaustion, the injuries, that pressure was perhaps still more internal for him than anything.
The pressure of the game, of enforcing. The balance he brought to it. He was going back to all of that soon. And when he did, he'd have a handle on it.
He reached into the trunk and pulled out the heavy, black, Reapers' hockey bag that held his gear, then picked up a full black garbage bag and a handful of towels that wouldn't fit. He slammed the trunk lid shut and locked the car.
Amongst the few donations they were going to make today, Ichigo had told Grimmjow in his text - told him - that they were going skating.
He gave a small snort of amusement as he lifted the thick strap of the heavy bag of gear over his shoulder and started towards the front entrance. Ichigo wouldn't tell him where, which was odd, just that he had access to an indoor arena for a few hours. As much as Grimmjow needed to get back on his skates again, he didn't much see the point of skating in circles or shuffling a puck around the ice with Ichigo. He was heading back to practice in a day anyway, where he'd be getting a proper chance to test his sea legs again.
But Ichigo had specifically said, "bring your gear". Now that caught Grimmjow's attention. He wasn't usually one to miss details. And that was a pretty big one.
X X X
Now, there were moments in a young man's life, such as Ichigo's, where he felt he had a relative handle on things. Like the good ones, where he passed a test, nailed an interview, made the team, or even had a deep nod of respect from his crazy father.
Or the great ones, where he fixed his little sister's bike and then watched her pedal off down the road like she was driving a brand new Ferrari.
And then were those other more disturbingoccasions, the ones where his world promptly did an awkward sideways turn. And Ichigo was left wondering just one thing. What the hell had just happened? No, really.
He'd made a serious decision last night. Several in fact. First, and foremost, the whole feelings for someone who could never reciprocate thing was wearing thin fast. That infuriating enforcer-slash-man-child addiction needed to go. Ichigo had to get his head out of the clouds and back into the game. That was as given. Allowing Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to get under his skin as easily as he could... considering what was really at stake here, Grimmjow shouldn't even rate.
Never mind that. This "crushing" thing wasn't even like him. Ichigo didn't get all wobbly over people. They usually came to him, or perhaps, they were friends first and, like with Rukia, his first, it just seemed natural to let something happen. But it wasn't even Ichigo who made the first move. Not that he could recall.
No. Ichigo wasn't soft. He'd grown up tough enough to handle whatever Grimmjow, or his own libido, could dish out. He'd always been able to take club life; the teasing, the pranks, the insults. He'd usually just mouth off right back, or threaten theatrical physical harm when he was getting annoyed, and real harm when the guys didn't take the hint. It all worked fine for him most of the time.
Grimmjow, though...
Grimmjow made him sweat.
Like now. Ichigo was still processing the moment as they walked in fifty shades of disgruntled silence towards the outside entrance to the underground parking structure of his apartment building. Ichigo couldn't decide if it was Grimmjow he was mad at, or himself. He was stronger than this. He should be at least somewhat able to shrug off Grimmjow's uninhibited personality. He was no different from anyone else Ichigo knew when it was laid out in black and white in his mind. Shinji, Shiro, Renji, Ikkaku, almost the entire team were masters of ribbing, cheap shots, endless toilet humor, and even real humor in their own inglorious way.
But every word... hell, every movement and every look that the blue haired man produced, it all had ten times the staying power with Ichigo. Any memories of Grimmjow that he had lately, like him tonguing his beer bottle... they seemed to jump to life, vividly.
And after last night's sexting fiasco, Ichigo was hoping he'd seen about as much of Grimmjow's sexual free spirit as he ever would. Otherwise he was probably going to die from some sort of angry aneurism.
He was hoping the blue-eyed, blue-haired, silver-tongued pest would tone it down and control himself today. But who was he kidding. Once again, Grimmjow had just popped right down from out of the fires of some other planet and thrown Ichigo's brain stem into a mini tailspin. Or one step closer to a much predicted stroke.
It made him want to rid himself of this affliction all the more. Carve out the part of his brain that had so obviously gone rotten and decayed, sitting inside his head, useless and weighty.
Because he was starting to imagine things. He had to be.
The physical contact was one thing. But the look... the moment. The thing Grimmjow had just done. What was that?
For the past minute, in every cold, calming breath and in every strangled silence that writhed uncomfortably between them, he fought to excuse the other man's odd protectivegesture. And that slow, almost intrusive scrutiny that burned behind blue eyes.
Hell, forget concern. Forget protective. Ichigo had almost felt like he was about to be eaten alive. He'd felt that way before around the bluenet. But never like this. This was different from those other times. More intense. More surreal. Because... they hadn't been in the middle of a ridiculous argument. He hadn't been pinned against the locker room wall, or pressed against the ice.
This time, the veils of anger weren't an excuse.
And he found himself repeating these words in his head.
It was nothing. Because it had to be nothing.
And that nothing had happened just minutes ago.
X X X
"Yo, Kurosaki. For such a pretty boy, you took that stick to the face like a boss."
The thin January air curled like cold steel around their breath on this Canadian-est of days. The storm had dragged a cold snap in its wake. A large man, his appearance smooth and controlled, an unlikely contrast to his feral and often savage nature, moved toward a deceptively leaner, but equally tempered and eruptive male as the two took stock of each other for the first time in what felt like weeks.
In reality, it had been little more than a day and a half.
"Pretty boy" raised an irritated eyebrow before the flesh between his rich brown eyes rumpled into the deeper version of his trademark scowl. He choked on a nameless sound and took in cold air as he opened his mouth, at first intent on coming up with something as deeply scathing as "pretty boy". Something Grimmjow could suck on.
But last night's texting debacle was on the shortlist in his mind. And regardless of Grimmjow's stupid taunting, then, and now, Ichigo was still set on actually having a surprise lined up for him. One he knew would benefit them both.
But first... Grimmjow was gonna hear about it.
"Hey, yourself, shithead. After what you pulled last night, I owe you the same. You..." He stopped mid sentence, as Grimmjow closed in on him.
"Yeah?" Grimmjow's voice was off. Breathy. He was looking weirdly at Ichigo. Azure eyes darting about, over his face, down his body, and back again. "What'd I do?" Not there. Not listening. Not bothered at all.
Ichigo felt his temper peak at that.
"Your stupid texts." Grimmjow met his eyes for a brief moment before his attention was gone again.
"What about'em?"
"The shit you caused me?" Ichigo grumbled. "You..." Serious blue eyes found him again, curiosity in his low voice. And Ichigo found himself looking up and leaning back.
"What shit was that? You show'ed 'em around?"
"No!?" Ichigo felt himself heating up, realizing too late that he had no real grudge to bear. It wasn't Grimmjow's really fault that anyone saw those texts. "I didn't. Not on purpose... Shinji... He..." He waved his hand by his head. "...over my shoulder. But it was your fault! Writing shit like that. You know the kind of..."
And that was as far as he got, because before he could form another coherent word, control of his mouth had disappeared.
Disappeared?
It had been stolen from him. His chin had been grabbed. Raised. And his head was being turned this way then that, by a large, rough, warm, hand.
And every thought in Ichigo's mind had instantly shattered, his temper blown away, his mind all but brought to its knees. His body tensed, his instincts instantly growling at him in warning that this was far beyond his comfort zone, even more so, because, in its boldness, its naked insistence, it was so very much like the touches his body had so recently sought. At night. When he slept. And when he didn't.
".. Oy...?"
For all his internal hysteria, Ichigo's confusion was reduced to that one brilliantly sputtered protest. Because Grimmjow, for all his casual brushes, touches, and punches, had never, ever, touched him like that.
And that put an immediate fault-line crack his new, unshakeable foundation.
And that pissed him off.
X X X
Ichigo felt his heart jump into his stomach as Grimmjow's grip shifted.
No. His thumb shifted.
No. His thumb slid.
And the need to get out of that thought scattering grip intensified, almost overwhelming.
But to further his alarm, Ichigo's body stayed right where it was, like a kitten held by it's scruff, as Grimmjow's oceanic eyes studied him from mere inches away, dragging up from his split lip to his nose, then perusing the darkened skin beneath his eyes with interest. Ichigo's brain scrambled for reason.
An overly concerned friend surveying the damage.
Or a landlord surveying his property.
It could have been his imagination, but it seemed like Grimmjow was becoming more touchy feely with every outing they had. Maybe Ichigo was over-thinking things, as he had a tendency to do with a certain blue-haired tank. But this time he hadn't even so much as asked Ichigo's permission before he'd started manhandling his face like he owned it.
Ichigo watched, wide eyed and in bewilderment, as Grimmjow's eyes fell back to the small split, a lump forming in his throat as the enforcer's thumb ghosted over the skin to lightly probe; a hint of a touch that he didn't know Grimmjow was capable of. And he felt his lips part in response.
The pad of Grimmjow's thumb was wide and rough.
X X X
The skin of Ichigo's lip was warm and soft.
He only wanted to see what damage Ichigo had done to himself last night. And before he knew what had possessed him, he'd reached out and taken Ichigo's chin in his hand. It was nothing, really. They were a physical bunch, and close contact with another guy on the team was as normal as taking a piss, nothing at all, but...
As soon he felt that hot skin burning under his fingertips, sinking into his palm, he felt something about himself letting go. Maybe it started before that. He wasn't sure. But Grimmjow's eyes slit in concentration, and almost like an afterthought, he felt himself slipping somewhere...
...until he felt the vibration run through his fingers... when those lips moved.
Distantly, he heard a low voice. And he blinked slowly as if waking from a fog dream.
It sounded vaguely annoyed. That was never a good sign.
"You know, some people just ask..."
The world suddenly got brighter, the late-morning sun breaking through the clouds above, trying in vain to cast its heat into the winter air. Time that had slowed to a crawl shifted into forward again, a burst of crisp, city sounds breaching the bubble of silence they had somehow fallen into.
Then his eyes slid up and... the look on Ichigo's face... stunned...
Grimmjow pulled back. He'd crossed a line. One he hadn't even been aware he was stepping up to.
He grunted and ploughed his hand through his hair, scowling for a moment before he pulled up an enormous grin.
He didn't know what to say to Ichigo when he saw him, so he'd just let his mouth do the talking. He knew a pile of obnoxious horseshit had spilled out, but who cared. That was him. And who was he to ruin other people's expectations of him.
He was aware now that he somehow gotten himself far too close for Ichigo's comfort. And aware to late that he'd dangerously run his finger across the tender spot of his lip, unable to fight his curiosity and the rising urge to touch and explore.
But it was more than that.
The shape of them. The rise, the color, the way they moved when he spoke. It just all seemed so fucking... perfect. Like Grimmjow's own weren't good enough. Like Grimmjow wanted to step outside of himself and have something as perfect as that to be. But Ichigo's voice had shattered those thoughts before they could fully form, and Grimmjow gratefully slid back into feeling like himself again. Or a close approximation of it.
Number 15 hadn't returned to the game last night, and Grimmjow had found his thoughts constantly roaming back to Ichigo as he cleaned up his apartment and put the night's empties into the small recycle bin he kept in the pantry.
He knew the oranget was basically fine when Ichigo called him that morning, but seeing him... it was...
His hands were just on him before he even realized they were on the move. Checking him out. Making sure.
Grimmjow had to mentally backtrack to bring his focus back onto the two black eyes Ichigo was sporting. He hadn't tried to cover them up with make-up like he had in the past. That was new. They weren't that dark anyway. The oranget had come away without a broken nose in the end. And it just looked like he'd missed a night or two of sleep. Or maybe ten.
All things considered though, he looked pretty damn good.
As if he hadn't just make them both uncomfortable,Grimmjow reached out again to tousle the bramble patch of orange hair, then slung an arm behind Ichigo's neck and across his shoulders, and gave him a little sideways shake.
"Hah. You finally wearin' your war wounds like a man, Kurosaki? It's a good look on you." He grinned, knowing his abrasive compliment would incite some sort of reaction from the often fiery oranget. It always did.
Ichigo winced, grimacing as well when Grimmjow scuffed his hair and slung a heavy arm around his shoulders, practically dragging him into a walk. They weren't going running today. Ichigo had declared a day off. Besides, he knew Grimmjow would have worked out already. He was aware of his habits, and he knew the man was anal about keeping himself up to par, and then some.
Instead, he had some stuff to drop off at the local animal shelter, worn blankets from his dad's clinic, things of that nature. Grimmjow had, almost too agreeably, been all-in on Ichigo's morning plans. He'd said he had a few old towels to add to the donation pile, even though the ones in his hand looked suspiciously brand new.
Ichigo scowled back at him. Everything from his own general discomfort, to Grimmjow's many faces; it was all throwing him off his determined stride and into a wilful state of petulance he couldn't seem to reel back in.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he shot back. "You think I look good beaten up?"
"Well, yeah." Grimmjow seemed slightly confused, his response almost a question.
"Then you've got some serious problems," Ichigo grumbled. Grimmjow's eyes slitted, that deep crease that usually lived there once again finding its home between them.
"Che. Don't get yer wings up," he scoffed, dropping into slang quickly as his mood turned and his hackles rose. "I'm sayin' if you get hurt, you shouldn't feel like ya need to hide it by paintin' yer face. They're yer war wounds. You should be fuckin' proud of it!"
"I'm proud of play-ing," Ichigo admonished, making a special point of E-nunciating his words, "not of showing off my," he made air quotes with his fingers, "war wounds."
"Why the fuck not? I'm proud 'a mine!"
"Keh. Well, I don't need sympathy or attention like that to validate myself."
Grimmjow blinked. Ten seconds in and the kid was punching holes in his reasoning, and being an obnoxious pompous asshole, anything just to be goddamn difficult. Plus, in the middle of all that pompousness, he was still making sense... kinda... and Grimmjow wasn't gonna stand for it.
"What the fuck's this validating shit? You get hurt and bruised and it's there cuz it's there. Quit tryin'a sound like you know everythin'. Yer a hockey player. Not a fucking psychologist."
"Oh, well, sorry if I don't have the dumb hockey player part down pat. Guess you win that one." The air around them turned colder under Grimmjow's slow burn of an ice blue glare, if that were possible.
As they walked in angry silence for several long paces across the parking lot, Ichigo risked a sideways glance over and annoyingly up at the man beside him. If he hadn't been so angry right now, he might have smirked. Grimmjow was prowling along to his right with the heavy steps of a fat angry panther, and with his teeth clenched and jawline ticking. Ichigo nearly startled when the fat panther suddenly broke the silence.
"Yer a difficult motherfucker, you know that? Can't you just take a fuckin' compliment?"
Like two bears with the same sore tail, they stomped their way down the sidewalk that led to the underground parking where Ichigo's piece of shit car lay in wait. For his part, Grimmjow was wondering furiously why he'd been so eager to see him again, and then, oddly, why he'd agreed to let Ichigo have the wheel today in the first place.
"Yeah. I can," Ichigo droned back. "When I get one." Grimmjow wanted to jam his hands deep into his coat pockets, keeping stretched white knuckles safely out of reach of his infuriating partner.
Didn't keep his mouth from jumping back into the fray though.
"Che. If you really want a broken nose, I can fuckin' help you with that," he warned. He grunted in annoyance when Ichigo had the balls to snort back, just walking along like a prick beside him.
"You're compliments are as shit as your charity."
"Oy. I got yer fuckin' charity right here, asshole." He lifted the garbage bag full of towels that hung in his left hand, and the few in his right, and shook it all into Ichigo's general space. "So, don't be tryin'a call me out when yer acting like yer full'a shit."
"I'm not full of anything. You're the one passing off jabs as compliments with your screwed up logic."
They kept it up. The back and forth. Neither of them willing to admit to themselves that they preferred it this way. That they wanted the discord to release their stress, that they needed it to black out the moment that had happened between them.
"Fuck you, Kurosaki."
"Keh. Fuck you too. You know what I think?"
"'Cuz' I care..."
"You're just bitchy because you still aren't cleared to practice." Grimmjow made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Fuck. What was Ichigo's problem? Grimmjow's head was spinning. If he was being bitchy it was Ichigo's doing. End of story.
"Shut yer face. I'm not the one who's being bitchy." Ichigo stepped ahead of the enforcer, knowing he was doing a terrible job of turning tables on him, and muttering almost to himself as he dragged opened the heavy door to the parking garage, growling.
"...sorry I asked you..."
"Che. So, what? I drag my Goddamn ass out here in the bullshit cold so you can pms all over me? Is that the big surprise?" Ichigo's jaw clenched at that.
"The big surprise will be if you ever get your lazy ass back on the ice again."
"Eat me." Grimmjow grunted following him inside, out of the sunlight, and drawing up beside him. "And I am cleared. Tomorrow or the day after... for sure."
"Really?" Ichigo looked up, a spark of interest wiping away some of the scowl from his expression. "Coach didn't say anything."
The bluenet gave a small shrug as they walked past rows of parked cars in the dark static space of the concrete underground.
"I just found out this morning. And it's not that big a deal. S'just practice." It came off more gruff and petulant than casual, and Ichigo rolled his eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys.
Just nothing. That was big news. He wondered why Grimmjow hadn't just started with that. Oh right. Because Ichigo couldn't keep his shit together and had started them arguing to cover his discomfort.
He lifted the key fob and hit the button, and his car chirped back at them, the sound echoing off the cement walls of the structure around them, confusing the senses. Grimmjow, though, turned his head towards the sound. But his expression quickly became annoyed, like he was thoroughly stuck on a crossword puzzle.
"Where's your jalopy?" he frowned. Ichigo felt his eye twitch, but the typical slight against his car was forgotten in the next instant, and he nodded towards the space ahead, feeling a small upwards pull on the side of his sore lip.
"You're standing in front of it."
Grimmjow seemed to take a moment to process where he was supposed to be looking. Ichigo pressed another button, and an engine fired up. Blue eyes widened, first in surprise, then amazement. Not that the car in front of him was the most expensive thing on the road. But it was admittedly as nice as his own. Better maybe. Except that, this one apparently belonged to Kurosaki.
"Fuck outta here!" he barked, eyes lighting up and one long arm shooting out, fingers driving like a bloom of talons right into the bones of Ichigo's shoulder. He stifled a yelp, the grip becoming almost too painful to ignore in that split second before they were thankfully retracted.
Grimmjow bounced once before his hand was gone and he'd turned his full attention into molesting the sparkling chassis of Ichigo's new car. The enforcer prowled up to the car, the very same finger tips running in the lightest caress along the hood. In fact, it was possible he wasn't actually touching the surface as long fingers teased their way up the side of the windshield with exceptional care. Certainly more than he'd spared Ichigo. He shook his head, a soft smirk forming.
His manic haired partner was grinning like he'd had a personal stake in Ichigo's newest purchase.
Ichigo considered Grimmjow with a subtle tilt of his head. Well, he did, didn't he. It was partly his badgering that had moved Ichigo to spend some money on himself for a change.
"You finally came around and decided to move up." Grimmjow's voice hit the concrete walls and surrounded him, attention finally leaving the gleaming surface of the car, sly grin directed at Ichigo. He looked really good when he smiled.
"Just shut up and get in." It was yet another backhanded compliment. But the tone of it was one of such deep approval that it nearly had Ichigo's ego flat on its back, legs twitching, and blissed out on the floor. But that was for him to know.
He gave Grimmjow a pointed glare and derisive snort as he walked over to the driver's side door of his new "ride" as Grimmjow would call it, and opened the door.
But, yeah. He had come around. About fifteen seconds after he'd gotten his faculties back. After getting his face smashed in. Less than twenty four hours ago.
His nose and mouth had been doing a perfectly synchronized angry throbbing thing, and the blood was still leaking out of his face, and he was already thinking about it. Why shouldn't he enjoy some of the benefits that came along with all the hard work he'd put in? Why the hell should he suck it up and carry on like he had been? Just once, he wanted to put himself first, have something nice all to himself. Something he wanted.
Something he wanted that he could actually have.
Yes. He had dragons to slay. And his almost crippling need to give all he could to take care of his family, like he didn't deserve to enjoy it himself, was definitely on that list. Even the deepest wounds could be healed over in time. Scars could fade, but their marks, like still waters, always ran deep.
The moment Ichigo had disembarked from the plane this morning, he'd nearly scrambled home to unpack, then headed right back out to go shopping for a new car. It was Grimmjow's doing. That sexy asshole's nettling about his youth had annoyed him, twisting like a corkscrew into his deeper subconscious, then rearing up as sharp as a slap to the face as soon as he'd gotten smacked in it.
Ichigo pulled open the driver's side door and sank into softened leather, while Grimmjow dragged the door open, growling as he settled himself into his heated seat.
Funny thing about cars. The sound of a powerful engine going, always got the average guy's engine going. Grimmjow was no different.
"Shit, that's a beast." He growled in rapture. And a little envy. This ride had a little more horsepower than his own.
Ichigo noticed the sound of approval, and gave the powerful engine a kiss of gas, carefully as he could, and pulled out of the parking space. It only took a moment before he rolled his eyes, sighing with growing regret and discomfort. He hadn't anticipated the extend of the other man's love for expensive machinery. The guttural pop and rumble of the engine was like some sort of aphrodisiac to the enforcer.
"Holy fuck, I jus my X X X." Ichigo made a face.
"That's... gross..."
"I mean, I really go over here."
"And... now I have to return the car."
X X X
After wading through twenty very technical minutes of mandatory new car talk, Grimmjow firing question upon question at Ichigo until he directed him to "the fucking manual" that was in the glove compartment, the atmosphere mellowed and thoughts turned to idle conversation.
About the cold. And the car...
"Heated seat's are the best, eh?"
"Yeah, pretty sweet."
"My old car, she didn't have that. And ya fucking miss it on a day like t'day. Get in yer car, and the seat's like a fucking park bench."
Ichigo chuckled. He'd never thought of it like that, but that was true. Ichigo looked over when Grimmjow didn't say anything else for a full ten seconds, worried that he might be into or up to something Ichigo wouldn't want to know about.
He was casually flipping through Ichigo's pack of CD's, ones he'd had for years, but hadn't had the luxury of listening to for a few months in his old beater with it's broken CD player.
Ichigo let the enforcer occupy himself for a few moments, enjoying just being. He found himself surprisingly relaxed as he maneuvered his new ride through the streets of Karakura.
Relaxed, bruised, and content. He was an NHL hockey star, and he actually felt like one. Not that he hadn't felt spoiled before on endless trips, dinners and invitations to bars and parties. By comparison, this was simple, but it was on his own terms. Something that he'd dropped real money for. And it was all his.
And it was nice to have a car that included a player that actually worked again. He was just lucky the car he wanted still came with the option. Technology moved so fast. Ichigo had too many old CD's loaded with his favorite music, and not much inclination to load it all into newer formats. Maybe he got it from his old man, who still listened to vinyl when he was putting his feet up in the den at home on his time off.
"What's this one?" A low rumble came from the passenger side, setting Ichigo's heart at a loose gallop for a moment. "It just says mixed."
Ichigo shrugged, trying to keep his attention on the turn he was making. At least half a dozen of them said mixed.
"Not sure. They're old."
"I can tell. You got eight tracks around here too?"
"Says the guy with the eighties hair style."
"Shut it. It's early nineties."
Grimmjow popped the CD in and turned up the volume, obviously confident in Ichigo's musical tastes. In a few seconds Somewhere Down A Crazy River by Robbie Robertson began to ooze through the speakers, the twelve inch subwoofer in the trunk bathing them in the song's deep smooth bass.
Ichigo flinched.
Shit. That one didn't say mixed. It said, mixed-X. It was a compilation of songs he found... well... kind of hot... maybe even – ughn... romantic - if he really had to pick a word for it. It was the last thing he wanted to listen to with Grimmjow.
Ichigo cringed while Grimmjow sat there, still flipping through the CD case, deceptively silent as they accelerated up a ramp and merged onto the highway. He probably thought the song was shit and was just figuring out the most annoying way to voice his opinion. Ichigo just wished he get on with it.
He pulled into the fast lane, hoping to get to their destination a little bit sooner and end this new form of torture. He didn't need to look over to know Grimmjow's eyes were on him now. He could feel it.
"Hn. You got quite a range in taste here."
"Uhuh. I have some newer stuff if you wanna change it..." His voice had a snap to it.
The enforcer answered by leaning toward Ichigo and cutting him off.
"DELETED PARAGRAPH." Grimmjow rumbled the lyrics at him like a rainstorm, grin as pure as Satan's. And Ichigo stiffened.
Oh, good. He knew the lyrics.
"Seriously...", he warned. "I have newer stuff..."
"Shhh. I like this song." Ichigo ground his molars together.
"I don't care."
"Shut it." Grimmjow waved him silent, "Focus on the road," a long pompous finger waggling at the road ahead. "Gonna be some disappointed puppies if we don't get this shit to the pound."
Ichigo's deep breath came out slow and long while he stifled his next thoughts.
He stole a few quick glances at his passenger as he drove in stiff silence (except for the damn music) for a very long minute, Grimmjow thankfully keeping his big trap shut, even though he'd settled lazily into his seat like a content cat on a heating vent. It was like he was getting into the music, letting himself drift and...
"Wait."
"What?" Ichigo responded to the command. And then realized it wasn't one...
Oh shit. Ichigo's jaw ticked and his eyes left the road for a moment to narrow in on the enforcer who had suddenly sat up, and who had... dear God... shifted closer to his shoulder and... who was nearly serenading him now? Well, at least he wasn't actually singing. But still...
"X X X..."
"Please don't..." Ichigo begged tiredly, irritation flaring further when he'd tried not to whine but was sure he'd failed.
"Awww, X X X..." Ichigo eased the car onto the exit ramp he'd been watching for.
"I swear I'll drop you off right here."
"X X X..."
Grimmjow's natural bass dropped like it was lead weighted into a rough feral growl, rolling like thunder along with the music right down Ichigo's back. And he felt his X X X...
Fu. King. Ass. Hole.
Brown eyes burned and he took one hand off the wheel long enough to give the haunting creature beside him a solid strike in the arm, enough packed into it to to shove the prick away.
X X X
Grimmjow swallowed back a real grunt of pain.
Somewhere in between shifting gears and checking his mirror and changing lanes, Ichigo's bony little elbow had whipped out and drilled into Grimmjow's shoulder like he was breaking cement. He didn't pull his punches. The pain was bright and sharp, but it was funny. With Ichigo on his side now, Grimmjow found he respected that about him even more.
Grimmjow feigned injury as he was driven off of his prey with a very effective push. Hell, Ichigo had practically drilled a hole in his shoulder. He knew the little prick had power, but sometimes he forgot just how much stink he could pack into a hit. He could ignore the fact that the pain he felt in his shoulder gave him a strange sense of excitement. But he couldn't help but chuckle at the twist of discomfort on Ichigo's face and those reddened cheeks. And the eyes he gave Grimmjow, they were almost enough to rip a person to shreds. It gave him a pleasant shiver, but still. It was just a bit of fun. The usual. But his innocence, like something new and untainted, untouched even... it just clawed at Grimmjow's playful side.
And those lyrics. How could he not play with that? He knew that song. He'd heard it many times growing up. Though he'd been through phases of leaning toward heavier music, Grimmjow had an appreciation of most types of music. He sometimes used it to get into a mood himself... or, more often, to get out of one.
Some guy somewhere once said that music soothes the savage beast, or something like that. Well, they were right, unless you were in a car with Kurosaki.
"So, I guess the X means this is yer... "gettin' busy" music."
Ichigo's eyes widened, the prickle of heat singeing his cheeks from the indisputable wrongness of Grimmjow hitting so close to home and knowing it.
The enforcer smirked when he detected a poorly suppressed growl. Ichigo was for shit when it came to keeping those kinds of secrets. He leaned his head back into the headrest and just watched Ichigo.
"No, you shithead," he snapped. "It's just relaxing." The enforcer raised an eyebrow and simpered.
"HnHn. I bet." Ichigo made a strangled retching noise, trench of a scowl visible from the side.
"Only you would think like that. You're a deviant, you know that, right?" Grimmjow hummed back low in agreement.
"Yup. And I'm gonna borrow this." He wouldn't mind browsing through it, see what made Ichigo tick on the inside.
"X X X " Ichigo hissed back, cringing away from his passenger. Grimmjow had creeped closer again. Like before, he could feel it. He didn't have to look. But sadly, he did anyway.
"Somethin' like that." Ichigo's eyes snapped back to the road. He wrinkled his nose and gave up with a grumble.
"Gross. Keep it, then."
The enforcer grinned and chuckled quietly.
Ichigo shifted gears and slowed at a set of lights before making his turn.
No, it wasn't gross. And the shudder wasn't revulsion. Not if it was Grimmjow dealing out pleasure to Grimmjow. But if he were to use it on say, a date... well then Ichigo would never be able to listen to that song again. Ever.
But what was he thinking about that for? Just because Grimmjow was a persistent pig, didn't mean Ichigo had to take the bait every time. They were here because they were going on some charitable errands first. They had blankets for the city animal shelter, and then Ichigo had two boxes of food in the trunk for the local food bank. Call it his way of balancing out his karma.
And then Ichigo had planned a small surprise for his recovering teammate, something the enforcer would both love and hate.
He smirked. Call that, his late Christmas gift to Grimmjow.
X X X
Thankfully, Ichigo's music was quickly retired, and something less irritating was slid into the CD player.
Apparently, Grimmjow had seen fit to change out the offending CD before Ichigo blew a circuit and threw him out of the car. He had sense when he needed to. But it didn't escape Ichigo's attention that "mixed-X" was popped into the passenger door's side panel. For later. The bastard was keeping good on his word, and taking his CD. And that was just weird, because Ichigo couldn't figure out why in hell Grimmjow would actually want to listen to anything that Ichigo found erotic.
They pulled out of the parking lot and headed to their next destination. The food bank. It was a quick and uneventful stop. Grimmjow tagged beside him as Ichigo carried a box full of dried and canned food, the enforcer lugging the heavier one. They stopped just long enough to give a few autographs once they were recognized, which was pretty much after Ichigo had one foot in the door. Then they headed over to the animal shelter, just a few city blocks away, where they'd dropped off blankets and towels.
It was a charitably themed day. It was Ichigo's idea. He was clearing house, cleansing karma after his big purchase, and adding a few items for the less fortunate while he was at it. He'd given Grimmjow the head's up on that part of their day, but Grimmjow didn't seem bothered by what, for him, must seem like mundane tasks. He didn't attend many of their hockey club's charitable events if he wasn't obligated to.
He did his part, but otherwise he seemed to prefer to do his own thing. Nothing like swimming with sharks, jet skiing or ill-conceived hang gliding.
But today, at least, the enforcer seemed more than content to do whatever Ichigo suggested. In fact, he was all for getting into the swing of things and helping out as well. Whether it was to avoid being outdone by Ichigo, or just an aberration from the depth-less kindness of his heart, who knew. Ichigo would have said the former, but if he hadn't known better, he might have had the feeling Grimmjow was half trying to... impress him. And that was just crazy on the front of it.
Karmas cleansed, and people and animals helped, they were on the road again when Ichigo decided it was time to let Grimmjow in on the rest of their plans.
"I was thinking about things the other day," he started.
"Things need to be thought about sometimes." Grimmjow drawled in lazy agreement, cutting in without looking over. He was flipping through a car magazine he'd found in the door. Ichigo made a quiet sound of mental strain, and Grimmjow glanced up before returning to the page he'd found. "Any specific things?"
"Yes." Grimmjow still didn't look up entirely. Another page turned.
"Well, enlighten me, Kurosaki."
"Okay. Well, we've been getting along pretty well off-ice... right?"
There was silence. Even the sound of paper flipping had stopped. Every ounce of Grimmjow's attention was now on whatever it was Ichigo was going to say. It sounded to him like they were about to have "the talk", the one about them finding a way to get along on the ice once Grimmjow got there, something Grimmjow had been wanting to bring up all mroning. But honestly, after giving it some thought, he still hadn't been sure how to go about it, or even what he hoped to accomplish.
"I mean... no bloodshed," Ichigo corrected seriously.
Broken from his thoughts and slightly amused, Grimmjow gave Ichigo a thoughtful look. After a moment he conceded with a quiet grunt. He wanted to talk to Ichigo about their upcoming ice time, but it seemed that Ichigo may have beaten him to the punch. Well then, let Ichigo open that can of worms if he wanted to. It was no sweat off Grimmjow's back.
"Based on that logic," he shrugged, "we're fucking great."
"Right. Okay. Good," Ichigo said determinedly. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow out of a growing curiosity and a sudden vague sense of mistrust.
"I think you're skipping, there, Kurosaki."
"Oh. Right. Well, uh... I was thinking... " Why was this suddenly so hard? "...of introducing you to someone."
Grimmjow squinted for a split second before a thought popped in. Something instantly squirmed deep in his stomach and without hesitation, he turned and stomped Ichigo's request right through the floor of the car and into the pavement beneath them. All lead boots. Killing the idea dead in its tracks.
"Fucking hellfire, Kurosaki. No." Ichigo took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot his passenger a confused frown.
"What?"
"No way."
"You didn't even..."
"Yer family sounds nuts. And I got enough on my plate."
Grimmjow didn't do other people's family's very well. Especially not Kurosaki Ichigo's. Not after everything his family obviously knew about the shit they'd gotten into on the ice. Right or not, they for sure thought Grimmjow was a gigantic asshole. Normally he didn't care, but in this instance, he did. And if that wasn't reason enough to avoid them, then not after the things Ichigo had told him about them, especially his old man. To top it off, the whole family might be crazy, but they were tight. And Grimmjow didn't need to be put under a microscope and have every one of his short comings scrutinized by an overprotective Kurosaki clan.
Plus, somehow the very idea felt too weird for words. For some reason, he couldn't imagine himself measuring up. And why that was even a thought in his mind was maddening. He didn't care what people fucking thought of him.
The sudden and fiery panic that had flared up all over his gut was quickly extinguished as Ichigo suddenly clued in and sent him a wide eyed and glaring look that said, 'Are you completely insane?'
"My family? You thought...?" Ichigo blinked a few times, then popped. "Are you insane?!"
He half shouted the question as he shook his head fiercely in denial, the car weaving from one side of their lane to the other as he seemingly tried to rid both himself and Grimmjow of the mental house of horrors that was the enforcer meeting his family. "Don't say shit like that! What is wrong with you?!"
"Well, fuck!?" Grimmjow blurted, still cringing in his seat. "What then?"
"Do you still think I hate you?" Ichigo snapped hotly before he returned to being semi-serious.
"For a second there, yeah," Grimmjow grumbled, still squirming a little on the inside. Its own distinct, unnatural feeling.
"Look, you're coming back to practice in a day or two, right?" Ichigo huffed back at him. Grimmjow stuffed the magazine into the side panel, bending it.
"That's the plan. Wh-..."
"Then shut your ass up. I'm saying we have an offer to get some real ice time today. Before you come back. If you wanted."
That got the enforcer's attention off their painful misunderstanding and onto something that made his adrenaline hiccup in excitement, even though Ichigo had returned to grumbling beside him.
"Keh. As if I'd let you anywhere near my..."
Ice time? Grimmjow sat up straighter in his seat, his spine nearly crinkling in pleasure at the thought of hitting the ice again.
But ice time? With Ichigo? Damn. He could get into that, but... right now? With Ichigo? The reason they had been getting along so well lately was because they hadn't let their hockey issues enter into their discussions. And now, when removed from the whole business of playing together, Grimmjow was seeing Ichigo in a new light. He wasn't a threat out here. He was just a guy, and not a bad one at that. He had his pms moments. But who didn't?
"...him we're coming."
It was odd, how something could be such an exciting prospect but at the same time be so nerve wracking. It might be too soon, but then, time wasn't exactly on their side. Grimmjow would be back at practice in a day or two anyway, and he had every intention of pushing to play in the next game. And then what? They'd be back to square one. Just because they were talking didn't mean they would play any better together than they had before. And based on their day so far, he had to wonder if they'd both end their careers the moment they stepped onto the ice.
"...Grimmjow?"
Hell, the kid was doing enough by helping him keep active. Why did it feel like accepting his offer of ice time would be like succumbing to his charms, and that Grimmjow needed to hang on to that little bit of resistance he had left?
The Karakura city scape flew by as they barreled back along the highway. They were heading back towards Grimmjow's part of town. The bluenet studied the side of the orange-haired man with a grave expression before he straightened again, watching a mix of the dash and the city scape.
When exactly Grimmjow had come to think of Ichigo in terms of being anything near charming was a question unto itself.
"Jaegerjaquez!"
Grimmjow's head snapped up from where he'd been half staring at the dash and worrying the edge of one blunt thumbnail with his teeth as his elbow rested against the window frame. He answered with a dazed grunt.
"Hn? What?"
Ichigo gave him a cursory fish eye. He'd really zoned out there, and for a moment Ichigo thought maybe he'd broken him or something.
"Are you even listening to me?" he snapped. Grimmjow finally looked at him.
"No," he stated blankly. Ichigo rolled his dark eyes, and then began to repeat himself a little bit slowly, as if Grimmjow were nothing but a small child with a short attention span.
"I was saying... my old coach, Urahara, is at the rink today. He said the ice is free until late this afternoon." His voice started to return to normal rhythm, his intention not to instigate another fight. "And he's willing to help us train if you're interested. I need to call him and let him know we're coming.
"Yeah?"
"No. I'm just making it up. Are you up for it or not?!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, fuck," Grimmjow raised his palms, appeasing the man who held both their lives in his angry little hands. "Call him."
He agreed almost without thinking. Not because he wasn't suddenly nervous as shit, but because, instantly, he knew without a doubt that they needed this. Without a team around them, the atmosphere would be different, but if there were going to be problems, let it rain down on them today. In private.
