Karakura Town was restless. Heatwaves were bad, but never to this extent. Not many residents slept peacefully, and least restful of all was Ichigo Kurosaki. He lay in his otherwise empty bed, covers half thrown out the window with some hopeless expectation of a breeze. Ichigo himself wore only a t-shirt and boxers, reluctant to strip down in case of emergency.

Old habits really do die hard.

At 26, Ichigo was still the substitute soul reaper for the Soul Society, but things had been quiet since the end of the Quincey war. Maybe once a week did Karakura Town confront a hollow or several, barely enough to keep his blade sharp. But he still kept his skills as fresh as they could be in Urahara's basement after work.

Ugh, and his shift would be starting at 8 am. Despite his relaxed attitude to life, Ichigo was more regimented in his schedule these days. Up at 6 am, a jog before breakfast and a quick sweep of the local parameter to make sure nothing screwed with his day. He was still no good at detecting spiritual pressure in comparison to Uryu or even Orihime, but they kept an eye out too.

In bed like this, with nothing to do because being friends with a doctor meant being reminded of the bad things screens do to your brain when trying to sleep, Ichigo wished for a hollow to battle with. He was quickly losing his grip on tiredness, and the air just felt so, so close. Instead, he just lay there for a little while longer, listening out for any evidence that he wasn't the only one suffering. If one pressed their ears ever so gently, they would hear the yawn of several other disgruntled victims.

It was a little after 2am when Ichigo, who just then had begun tracing patterns in the ceiling after staring for so long, felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The hairs on his arms stood on end, too, and a stirring in his gut sounded the faint alarm.

Hollow.

"Finally," he sighed, lunging out of bed and facing the window, readying to jump from his human body and zoom out into the open window. But a figure, human in shape and size, stopped him in his tracks. Here on the 6th floor, a man stood outside Ichigo Kurosaki's window.

"Evenin'", a familiar voice greeted. It was paired with a flash of white teeth.

Before Ichigo could react, the face of Grimmjow Jagerjaques flew into view, lips torn back in a vicious grin. "Been a long time!"

"Not long enough!" Ichigo yelled back, throttling the man who had forced his back into the wall, cracking it. Ichigo held the man in place and looked back at the damage. "You're gonna pay for that!"

Grimmjow's grin only widened further, flipping back and lunging Ichigo into the ceiling. He kept trying for his soul reaper form, but every time Grimmjow just tore his hand away and lunged again, and all Ichigo could do in this form was dodge.

Finally, Ichigo held a hand up, and took a deep breath. "Give me a minute, for god's sake!"

Grimmjow stood on the spot, crossing his arms like an impatient child. "You're seriously asking for a time out?"

Ichigo nodded, and for a moment the room was silent. There was no point in asking what the hell the former Espada was doing here.

"You're getting old, Ichigo!" Grimmjow guffawed, having waited long enough. Ichigo turned to face him again, a threat in those brown eyes.

"What was that?"

Grimm's blue ones sparkled with glee. "I bet you were gonna switch to your soul reaper form, is that what you're resorting to now? I bet you haven't fought with this form for years!"

"I'd be an idiot to!" Ichigo yelled back, getting in his face. "I have clients to face, it wouldn't be a good look!"

"So you admit you're weaker then," Grimm speculated, nodding as he prowled around the room. "Man, I miss the days where fighting you was actually thrilling."

A vein popped in the back of Ichigo's head. Despite Grimm's words, Ichigo knew he was stronger than ever.

"Wanna test that, prick?"

Grimm stood in the window, his silhouette surrounded by a silver haze. He turned his gaze back to Ichigo, teeth glistening. "If you think you're up to it."

Ichigo smiled back, cocky as Grimm's was ferocious, and they lunged at each other without a second's hesitation. No swords, just brute strength as they threw the other into the ceiling, the floor, the walls, Ichigo scorning himself and the arrancar each time for the damage. He never backed down, though, and finally locked Grimm to the wall with both arms pinned to his sides.

"Not so bad, Strawberry!" He attempted to escape the lock, and broke free of Ichigo's fists for just a second before he reacted, and locked them above his head in one hand, the other locking him by his throat.

Ichigo heaved a breath, sure of his victory. "Wanna call me old again?"

Grimmjow grinned, but he was out of breath too. He looked down between them, and there was the true sign of defeat. Ichigo looked down instinctively and was met with a knee racing towards him. He dodged, but Grimm found his window, hooking a foot behind his ankle and forcing him down on his back. He fell to the floor with a loud thud, and he internally apologised to the folks below. Grimm towered over him, crouching over his torso with a devilish grin. Ichigo prepared to punch back, but Grimm pinned his hands in much the same manner Ichigo had pinned his just seconds earlier. The gesture brought his face right down to Ichigo's, so close he could feel his hot breath on his nose.

"I'll call it a draw."

Something about that voice just made Ichigo want to keep going. Mirroring Grimm, Ichigo looked down, before bringing a knee up, disarming him and rolling him on his back. Ichigo knelt between the former Espada's legs, and looked down at the beaten man, face glistening with sweat. Finally, he pinned down both hands with both of his, getting in Grimm's face. "We could keep this up all night."

In that moment, though Ichigo or Grimm didn't know what triggered it the air seemed to change. Was it the proximity? The diminishing fight from Grimmjow? The heat? Or did something change in Grimmjow's eyes the moment he realised that Ichigo was just as impressive as ever, ever the match? Maybe it was just sleep deprivation, but Ichigo hadn't felt so awake in a long time.

Suddenly, Ichigo was aware of how closely he was pinning himself to the man beneath him, how his grip on his wrists was weakening, how his knee pressed on a sensitive spot that one didn't intend to during a fight. Suddenly, he was aware of how close his lips were to Grimmjow's, his own drifting to a not quite smile, but an expression Ichigo had never seen on him.

He was confused.

Man, I'm just too ti-

Lips pressed against Ichigo's, his eyes frozen wide, unable to take in what they were seeing. Grimm's were wide open too, but there was a challenge in them. A challenge to look away, a challenge to pull away. But Ichigo could feel the racing of his own heart, of the stirring in the lower part of his stomach, and felt Grimm's body react, too. Grimm pulled away, leaving a rare flash of cold air against Ichigo's mouth. They looked at each other for a moment. Then, Ichigo gripped Grimm's hands together tighter with one fist, the other gripping Grimm's neck. They maintained confused eye contact for a moment longer before Ichigo plunged down, capturing his lips again in something hungrier, more desperate, tongues tangled and torso's pressed together. Ichigo let go of Grimm's hands, and the arrancar took the opportunity to flip Ichigo on his back again. Before he could acknowledge his disappointment, Grimm tugged Ichigo's t shirt over his head, finding his mouth again while Ichigo's hands gripped the thighs that straddled him. It was too late now, and they both fell deeper the more clothes that flew away, the more fingers pressed and caressed skin into bruising, the faster their hearts raced.

Why did you come here, Ichigo asked, his own mind groaning the question as teeth grazed his bare collarbone. And why can't I stop?