Now that I haven't written in a while and I'm tentatively trying to come back to it, I realize that ffn is actually a huge, convoluted pain in the ass to upload to lmao Really the only think I like about it is just that you write your author notes right in the document.
Oh well, enough bitching.
Enjoy!
The android was left posted by Ichigo's door throughout the night, Ichigo's paranoid streak forcing the need to have some sort of guardian lest Grimmjow end up being a threat after all. It turned out to be entirely unnecessary, and no doubt an uneventful night for Shiro.
The next morning, with the sun already high in a sky smudged with clouds, Ichigo maneuvered himself from his bed and into his chair, and wheeled down the hallway. Shiro's nearly silent footfalls followed behind him. They found Grimmjow passed out on the couch, dead to the world like he hadn't slept so deeply in months. On his back, he had his head turned toward the back of the couch and his arm thrown over his eyes as if to shield them from the feeble sun spilling in through the tall windows. He'd taken his shirt off at some point, and his bare chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths. The blanket had been pushed down far enough that Ichigo could see the top of unbuttoned jeans and the waistband of boxers. The shirt had been dropped on top of his shoes, where they'd been pulled off and placed surprisingly neatly on the floor next to the couch, along with the few other things Grimmjow carried with him.
"I suppose we should let him sleep." Ichigo decided quietly, turning his gaze away. He headed into the kitchen, where the coffee pot, which was on a timer, gurgled quietly. The counters and most everything else in the kitchen had been graciously modified by his call-in handyman to sit lower than was usual, making it accessible to him. He'd told the only two people that ever came into his home that it was to help him keep his independence, and in part that was true, but his independence was vital to his survival and what enabled him to keep himself and his work a secret from those that would want him gone.
He opened the dishwasher, pulling out a clean coffee mug, then he hesitated for a brief pause before he pulled out a second one, settling them in his lap to free up his hands. "Shiro," He said as he crossed the rest of the kitchen to where the coffee pot sat. "Would you go dig through my closet and find the largest pair of pants and t-shirt I own? You can set them over by his shoes. And pull out an extra towel, too." He set one mug on the counter by the coffee pot and left it empty. The other he filled for himself, taking a sip.
They left a note on top of the pile of clean clothes, letting Grimmjow know where the bathroom was and that there was coffee waiting for him, if he was interested, and that Ichigo would be down in his workshop. The option to spend the morning there was his. He knew where the door was, obviously, so there was nothing Ichigo could do to make him stay if the man didn't want to. Either was fine.
Shiro carried Ichigo's coffee for him as they quietly crossed the house to the lift, passing it over as it took over the hand crank and lowered them into the basement. Halfway down, the overhead lights flipped on automatically, flooding the space in bright but not harsh light. All his computers came to life at the same time, a waiting screen that required a password flickering to life on the largest monitor. Further into the space, the cradle came to life as well, humming a low, electronic sound as its display turned on.
Taking a sip of his coffee, Ichigo pointed towards his workbench and Shiro grabbed the back of his chair, guiding him forward. "Thank you." He said, setting the mug on the metal surface he was brought to. "Bring me the laptop, please, then you can rest for a while."
"I'm not tired." Shiro informed him, grabbing the laptop from near its cradle to bring back.
"Nonetheless." He grabbed the device being handed over, opening it in his lap to log in. The larger monitor behind him brightened further as the display changed from the login screen to home screen. "I haven't decided when your next mission will be. I'd rather just keep you charged and ready."
Shiro grunted and rolled its eyes, but approached the cradle anyway. "No updates needed." It said as it backed into place and the cradle connected. "I'll be on standby."
Ichigo shook his head slightly, but smiled. He could have commanded the android into sleep mode so that it could charge faster, but he respected Shiro's choice, taking another sip of his coffee as he sat the laptop aside.
Grimmjow woke up some time later, rolling onto his side lazily as he opened his eyes. The surface below him wasn't quite right. It didn't have the right spring, or size, or texture. A moment of fiery panic flared through his mind when he realized he wasn't in his own home and he started to jerk upright, before the previous night came back to him and he paused to look around with a shaky breath. He rubbed the sleep and lingering unease from his features, catching the smell of coffee. The house seemed quiet, peaceful, and he started to reach for his shoes with the intention of leaving, but his groping hand found cloth and paper instead.
He read the note with furrowed brows and a mild frown. It was an odd feeling; he shouldn't have been as welcomed as it seemed he was, and he shouldn't have felt as comfortable as he did. Blue eyes glanced down at the pile of folded, clean clothes, then traveled towards the stairwell, and finally found the hallway, where his gaze lingered for a moment. He debated for a long minute, and that hesitation ended up being his answer. He stood, grabbed the clothes, and padded barefoot down the hallway.
Down in the basement-turned-workshop, Ichigo arched his brows and put the soldering pen down. "Huh. Never realized the water pipes were so easy to hear from down here. We'll have to see about installing more insulation, maybe." It wasn't going to be a very high priority, though. His work wasn't usually too loud, though that wasn't to say that things didn't end up crashing around or occasionally sparking, popping, or creating small explosions. But all in all, his work was pretty quiet, and even if it could be heard through the first floor, there was never anyone up there to catch it.
Perched in the cradle, Shiro's head tilted and a not exactly pleased expression crossed its pale features. "He decided to stay. Again."
Ichigo smiled to himself, "I guess he did."
It wasn't long -or maybe it was and Ichigo had lost himself in his work again, which was just as likely- before the top step creaked to announce the arrival of his guest. Grimmjow descended the stairs with a cup of coffee in his hand. "I didn't realize you were so small." He said casually as his sock-clad feet found the cement floor.
Glancing over, Ichigo took in the cut of his clothes on the man. The shirt fit a bit snug and was just a little on the short side. It covered well enough, but when Grimmjow stepped up to the work table to set the coffee cup down and lifted his hand to push wet hair out of his face, the hem of the shirt rode high enough to flash toned midriff. And the pants were a little bit on the small side, too, stretched tight across the man's thighs and slung low around his hips to insure they were long enough for everything else, but they must not have been too bad, since he'd put them on instead of the pair he'd worn the night before.
Ichigo scoffed, "I'm not small, you're just big." A wide, toothy grin flashed across Grimmjow's handsome features and Ichigo's scowling face went red as he turned away. "You know what I meant." He snapped in a huff.
"So it's like that, is it?" Grimmjow asked, the grin obvious in his voice. He ran his hand through his hair a few more times, trying to keep at least most of it out of his face, before he gave up and reached for the coffee cup again.
"Like what?" Ichigo asked, still turned away, though his attention cornered to see as the man took his coffee back, noting how scarred up the tanned skin of knuckles and bared forearm was. He adamantly refused to acknowledge that he knew exactly what Grimmjow was talking about.
"Known you not even two days and you're already thinkin' about me like that." Grimmjow sipped his coffee, eyeing the set of his host's shoulders for any sign of being riled, before he wandered off toward's the android and its odd, upright bed. He stayed out of arm's reach of it, though, as he looked up into Shiro's face. It was odd, he decided, when a single, pale brow arched as if to ask him what he wanted. But since no actual question was asked, he ignored it. "It's no big deal; I'm pretty attractive."
Ichigo rolled his eyes so hard he was prepared to end up with a headache from it. But he still pretended not to understand. "Thinking about you like what? Like a guy who must be suicidal for showing up at my door after I threatened to have him killed? A guy who obviously must think I'm an idiot -rightly so, apparently- for thinking I'd then let him stay on my couch afterward? Oh yeah. I'm thinking about you, all right."
Grimmjow's laugh was disgustingly easy to listen to, maybe even a little contagious and Ichigo had to scowl harder not to smile. "Last night," Grimmjow continued, still studying the android and the cradle, "you asked if he was tired. Does he do that? Is this thing like plugging him in?"
Ichigo turned in his chair slightly, glancing over. He shrugged, "Yes and no. Shiro's battery is as advanced as the rest of it, it lasts an incredibly long time. The cradle does charge the battery, but it also runs all of Shiro's programming through a series of tests and checks." He pulled his laptop closer and tapped in a few keys, before pointing to the largest screen in the room. "You can see it over there." Line upon line of code scrolled through a window at a pace that was easy for Ichigo to read through, but would have been disorienting for someone with little understanding of it to focus on, like Grimmjow. "I have to do all physical repairs or modifications, but the cradle can identify most programming errors or breaks for me. When Shiro's plugged in, it basically does a systems check and looks for what might need updated or what might be affecting performance negatively."
"You built this thing, too?"
Ichigo nodded. "I built the cradle and wrote the program to make it do what it does."
"So if you made a mistake while writing the program, it might make a mistake and not find problems with your android." Grimmjow surmised, taking another sip of his coffee. The thing was an uncanny bastard, yet bore a startling resemblance to its creator. He had to wonder if that was on purpose, or if Ichigo didn't even realize it. He didn't seem the overly vain type.
"Possibly." Ichigo conceded, "Early on in development of the androids, the cradle missed a lot more of the bugs and when something with an early model would go wrong, I'd be forced to dig through lines of code and find it myself, but as I refined my android prototypes, I also refined the cradle. It misses less than I would, if i had to sit there and try to look for breaks with my own two eyes. The human brain has autocorrect, the cradle doesn't. And Shiro can help too, it understands its own code when it sees it. In theory, Shiro could walk you through how to fix an error, even if you had no idea what you were looking at."
"In theory." Shiro confirmed from where it rested in the cradle, head tilting a bit and a smirk slashing across its pallid features. "But the typing would be very slow."
Paling slightly, Ichigo opened his mouth to admonish the android, but he was too stunned and a little mortified to come up with a quick response.
Grimmjow blinked, then glanced at his one hand, before he threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, you're an asshole." He decided between laughs, "If the opportunity ever comes up, I'm going to wreck that code worse instead of fix it."
Shiro interrupted that amusement, with a widening grin, by stepping free of the cradle, its movement catching the big man off guard as if he'd thought the android locked into place, perhaps. It watched with great satisfaction as Grimmjow scrambled back a few steps, hand tight around the mug. "I would break you." It said, then stopped to stand before him. "Hold still for measurements."
"-what?" Grimmjow grunted.
"What?" Ichigo parroted, hands on the wheels of his chair, not that he could have possibly gotten between the two in time had he really needed to. Luckily, he'd been correct when he had assumed Shiro was bluffing. "Measurements…? I didn't-"
"If he's gonna help you kill Aizen, he'll need a new arm at some point."
"Wait a second, Shiro," Ichigo shook his head, "You're getting a little-" but his gaze coasted over to see Grimmjow staring at him, blue eyes a little wide, the mug in his hand in danger of falling, "ahead…" He pushed a breath through his teeth and rubbed at his features briefly, then motioned for Shiro to continue, "Fine. Measurements-" But he held up a hand, "No promises, though, Grimmjow. I'll see what I can come up with, but no promises. I'm not a doctor, I don't really even know anything about prosthetics. I don't even know what I'm doing with this," He motioned at the table, where the next version of his brace was laid out in unidentifiable pieces, "It's all trial and error. Everything I'm doing is self taught."
••••••
Weeks later, at a swanky bar owned by one of Grimmjow's superiors, they held a meeting with their boss. Technically counted out of the inner circle now that he'd been demoted with the loss of his arm, a loss that was deemed his fault and responsibility, and therefore his problem to fix if he wanted his spot back, Grimmjow stood in the background, scowling his disinterest and annoyance about the whole thing. He'd been a little surprised when they'd let him in, since he technically had no place there anymore, but he'd strode through the door like he owned the place and the bouncers hadn't questioned it. Aizen had given him a long, unreadable look, but hadn't said anything before he started the meeting.
The chair in front of him, his chair, was occupied by his new replacement, whom he'd yet to officially meet. When the filled position had been announced, he'd been furious, and he'd chocked his fury up to being pissed about being demoted, about having some punk take the place he'd carved for himself at that table. And maybe that was part of it. Maybe part of him really was angry at being looked down upon, god knew he was competitive enough for that. But now he knew, after thinking about it long and hard two nights prior, that most of his rage came from his sheer hatred of this entire organization and all it had taken from him.
Reflexively, he tried to cross his arms, realized his mistake, and settled for shoving his hand in the pocket of his jeans instead. The motion made him focus, if only for a split second, on his missing limb, and the damn thing started itching furiously. The knuckles of his missing fingers felt tight, like his missing fist was clenched and the fingers were going to crack. He ignored it, jaw tight, and did his damnedest not to shift and squirm uncomfortably. The scowl etched across his features only deepened, irritation rising. But he did an amiable job of holding his tongue until the meeting was done.
When everything needing discussed was spoken about and business was set aside, the chair in front of him made an agonizingly slow swivel until he was finally face to face with his replacement. The man was half Grimmjow's size, grinning smugly as he looked up from his seated position.
"Obviously you've heard of me by now," The man said, finally standing. He still had to look up, but his voice was haughty. "But we haven't been formally introduced, I'm-"
"-in my spot." Grimmjow cut in, unimpressed. "Don't get comfortable."
Across the table and still relaxed in his chair, a wide, ugly grin spread across Nnoitra's face as he watched.
"Grimmjow." Aizen was a cool, collected man. Nondescript by all accounts, he nonetheless held an imposing air about him. In the public eye, he was a levelheaded, intelligent man with the odd rumor here and there about his practices and the methods of his political gain. His largest opposer had, after all, been tragically and mysteriously murdered years ago. In private, he was ruthless and cold. Currently, he sat at the head of the table, his brows arched mildly in an expression that was somehow neutral and cold and maybe just a little mocking all in one. "I'm pleased to see you here, despite your recent demotion."
"It's a temporary demotion." Grimmjow assured, ignoring the disapproval that flashed across plain features. "I plan to stay in the loop to make my return an easier transition."
"Very well." Aizen agreed with a very slight nod. "How do you plan to prove that you're still capable of holding the Sexta position?"
"Hey! Wait a second-!" But no one was listening to the newcomer.
"As ruthlessly as I earned it." He said, a wide grin flashing across his features, and with that he thrust forward. The knife barely had time to glint in the light before it found the soft flesh of his replacement's stomach. There was a shifting of feet and a few hushed whispers of surprise, but no one moved to intervene. The smaller man gasped in shock, folding around the blade, one hand clamping down on Grimmjow's arm while the other tried to reach for the knife. Grimmjow was stronger by far, even with only one arm. He thrust harder, put his weight into driving the knife deeper, then shoved. His replacement went sprawling across the floor, choking on blood, the knife buried to the hilt and still jutting from his stomach.
From his spot at the table, Nnoitra threw his head back and cackled. Aizen watched on.
It was true what they said; killing another person changed you. Committing murder did something to you, something irreversible. But Grimmjow had stopped counting after he hit his number -six- and eventually, he'd made peace with it. It no longer bothered him like it should have, it didn't keep him up at night or haunt his dreams. Every once in a while he felt a twinge of guilt over it. Now wasn't one of those times.
With blood pooling around the feebly struggling man, Grimmjow used a foot to kick him over onto his stomach, then bent and yanked the wallet from his back pocket. He dropped the leather wallet onto the table, fumbled with it briefly while he flipped it around, opened it, and tugged the cash out. He spread the paper bills across the table to count it out, since he only had one hand to do so with, before he piled it all back up and tossed it across to Nnoitra. "The next payment on my debt." He explained, then dropped the wallet back to the floor and turned slightly to reface his boss.
Nnoitra pulled the messy stack of cash towards himself and began thumbing through it, that over-bearing grin still on his features.
Aizen was a long few minutes in replying, in which Grimmjow half expected to have his execution ordered. There was no shortage of people around at the moment to take the task on. No one moved, though, waiting to see what Aizen would decide. On the floor, the new Sexta bled out alone, gurgling and gasping.
Finally, a slight, sly smirk tugged one corner of Aizen's mouth, "Welcome back, Grimmjow. I'm glad you could be reminded of why you're worthy to be in my Espada before it was too late." He rose from his seat, straightening his shirt casually. "Make sure someone cleans that up." He said, indicating the dying man. "The team that cleaned up your apartment did good work, right Grimmjow?"
"Left it smelling minty fresh." The big man informed through his teeth.
Aizen nodded pleasantly. "Granz, get that team in here. I have a media event to be to tomorrow; Ulquiorra, you'll be with me." With that, he left the back room of the bar, trailed by the four highest members of his group.
"Good show, Sexta." Nnoitra gleefully praised, standing to tower over the table. He tucked that wad of cash into his jacket as he rounded the furniture. "Knew you had it in ya."
The dying man on the floor was still desperately clinging to life when the cleaners began rolling him in a tarp and dragging him from the building. One even pulled the knife free and wiped the messy blade on victim's shirt before handing it back to Grimmjow.
"Poor bastard." Grimmjow muttered, absently tucking the knife away, "Didn't know what the fuck he was getting himself into." And, oh, but that felt familiar and struck a cord. For half a second, an ounce of pity bubbled into his gut, but only for a moment. It was easily pushed aside. It felt good getting rid of one more of Aizen's allies. He shook his head as he watched the loan shark round the table towards him. "Told you exactly what I was gonna do to him."
"Yeah ya did." Nnoitra laughed, slinging an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. He leaned close with a wide grin. "Said you were gonna do the same to me, didn't you?"
"How 'bout you get that arm off me, huh?" Grimmjow answered with a dark grin of his own. His palm itched for the handle of the knife, the desire to stab it through this man's throat almost unbearable. But Nnoitra was far from the pathetic thing he'd just killed and, one armed and without the element of surprise, he doubted his chances.
Nnoitra laughed again, but straightened and pulled away. "You wanna ride? I got business on your side of town."
Scoffing, Grimmjow eyed the man skeptically, "Not a chance. You're a stingy piece of shit who gives nothing away for free and I've seen enough of my money go to you already. I'll pass."
Yet again, the taller man cackled, but threw out his hands. "Can't make a living if you do everything for charity. Suit yourself. Enjoy the rain." Without a backward glance, he left the meeting room.
Grimmjow watched him go, hating the genuine mirth in the man, that cocky, untouchable attitude. He hated everything about him. He silently swore he'd still hold to his word; Nnoitra would get what he had coming and it was likely more than a knife to the gut. He shoved his hand in the pocket of his jacket as he headed for the door, fingering the recorder Ichigo had given him.
A couple hours later and a shower to scrub the blood from his hand saw him seated backwards on an office chair as Grimmjow tried not to fidget. He propped his elbow across the backrest and dropped his chin into his hand, tapping his fingers along his jaw. "I thought Shiro already took measurements."
"It did, but without actually touching you, it can only give me basics and really close estimates. It gave me your height and probable weight, how long your arm is, how broad your shoulders are and the width of your chest, which was very helpful in drawing up plans but if I'm going to start working on prototypes, I need a cast so it'll fit in place properly." Ichigo sat back with a somewhat frustrated sigh, "And in order to get an accurate one, you need to stop moving."
"Don't see a cast of you sitting around." Grimmjow muttered, trying not to shift when fingers pressed against his ribcage, under what was left of his amputated arm.
"That's because I'm here. If I had access to you whenever I was working, I wouldn't need a cast." Ichigo shook his head.
"You asking me to move in already?" An amused grin tugged across Grimmjow's features and he moved, again, to look over his shoulder and see the heat creeping into Kurosaki's face.
"No, I'm not asking that." Ichigo snapped, "As often as you crash on my couch, though, I feel like I should make you a key."
Grimmjow laughed, "I don't need a key."
"I've noticed." The words were a drawl. When Grimmjow wasn't busy working for his hated boss, he was increasingly at Ichigo's house. It really drove home just how much Grimmjow disliked the space he no longer felt was his own. But Ichigo didn't mind the company. He was so used to being on his own that, at first, it had felt strange, but the awkwardness of it drained with each passing hour they shared.
A few minutes of quiet went by while Ichigo worked and Grimmjow sat there, mostly still. Eventually, the bigger man spoke up again, "You ever think about leaving? Just…. packing what you want to bring with you and going, leave it all behind and start over?"
Under the guise of concentrating, Ichigo took a few minutes to reply. "Yeah." He finally admitted, "I've thought about it a lot, actually. Almost every day."
"Why don't you?"
Ichigo shook his head. "Can't move on, I guess. Why don't you?"
Blue brows furrowed, but Grimmjow supposed it wasn't difficult to guess the idea had occurred to him, at least often enough to make him bring it up. He shrugged, "Shit, sorry." He heard the barely there huff behind him and half smirked. The expression fell pretty quickly, though. "I don't know, I guess because… I've seen what Aizen does to guys who run." A somewhat lost note entered his tone, like he wasn't fully aware that he was speaking his memories aloud. "There was this girl once… beautiful, stubborn but sweet as hell. Too sweet for this work… She tried to leave. Aizen sent a nasty dude after her, then watched what he did to her." He shook his head. "Gotta be real honest; I don't think we'll make it out of this. But I'd rather take that bastard and as many of his guys as possible down with me before he kills me, you know?"
Ichigo sat back in his chair, rubbing the space between his eyes. "I try not to think about how long I'll make it, honestly. Most days, it doesn't really matter to me. I'd like to see my, uh, my project through, but if it all comes to an end sooner rather than later… I don't know. At least I wont have to worry about it anymore." He ignored the piercing, blue eyes that turned in his direction.
Grimmjow wasn't sure what possessed him then, but there was something beautiful there, something a lot softer than the city around them, nestled down in all the hard and uncomfortable places. He turned in the chair and reached out with his one hand, leaning in. His lips found Ichigo's before either of them could figure out what was happening, let alone react. The kiss was brief, his lips a little dry but warm.
Stunned, Ichigo's breath caught slightly as he froze. His android was out of the building, on a mission, and for a moment, as Grimmjow had rounded on him and leaned in, he'd thought the worst. The moment of panic, the split second to fear for his life; it made the tender moment all the more startling. "I-" But he didn't know what to say, watching as Grimmjow settled back in and retook his careless, bored position. "…ok. Uh-" He shook his head slightly, "I think I'm going to have to come up with some sort of harness. For your arm, I mean. My brace is pretty heavy as it is, which is part of why it reaches so high up my abdomen, a whole arm would be– And you don't have a lot to attach to, so– Are we- Are we going to talk about what you just did?"
"What's there to talk about?" Grimmjow asked, but he swiveled the chair around to better face the other man. "I like you and I mean, If we're both going to die, why not?"
An orange brow arched dryly, "What if I don't like you?"
Grimmjow laughed, "Of course you do, you have me sitting shirtless in your basement."
Ichigo rolled his eyes, "You're insufferable." Then reached to hook a hand against the back of Grimmjow's neck and tug him further over the back of the chair, "And you better be able to kiss better than that."
"Picky-" Grimmjow started to say, amused, but was cut off in favor of a deeper, less chaste kiss. The hand against the back of his neck traveled up to curl fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and he twisted further so he could cup the side of Ichigo's neck with his hand, thumb smoothing along the man's jawline.
Distracted, they both failed to hear as Shiro returned and the android stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a furrow to its brow. It watched for a moment, before it spoke up, "What're you doin'?"
"Fuck-!" Grimmjow jolted, spinning in his seat to turn a withering glare on the android. "Announce yourself next time, damn."
"….fuck?" Shiro asked skeptically, eyes shifting from Grimmjow, to Ichigo, and back as it searched for answers.
"What? No! Shiro, that's not what-" Ichigo's features went red and he waved his hands in a negative, "No, dammit, don't say that, either of you. Shiro, that's not what was happening."
"Elevated vitals detected." The android announced, "Are you in distress? I can grab your medication." It made it clear that it was talking to Ichigo and only Ichigo, when it walked up to Ichigo's side and proceeded to ignore Grimmjow's existence. "Or I could kill him for you. It would be easy."
"Hey! I'm sitting right here, robot-"
"No, Shiro, I'm fine. You just startled us."
The android narrowed its eyes on its creator, then turned a suspicious glare on Grimmjow.
Grimmjow had the grace to look taken aback by the harsh expression. Ichigo, on the other hand, had to struggle not to laugh about the whole thing and when Grimmjow caught sight of him, he too cracked a grin.
"So… a raincheck?" The bigger man asked, raising a brow. The grin on his handsome features was easy to look at.
"I think I'd like that." Ichigo decided.
Grimmjow forced the grin from his features and turned to Shiro, trying for a stern tone. "You, robot, should stop sneaking up on people. You're making a habit of ambushing me and it's rude."
The android arched a brow mildly and blinked at the man, the artificial features managing an excellent mimicry of wryness. "That's… part of what I was created for."
"I think that's a no." Ichigo informed helpfully, smirking when Grimmjow scoffed. "Now turn back around and hold still this time!"
I'm really not enjoying the radio silence I've been getting with this story tbh it's like the fandom has forgotten that I used to be a pretty well known name. I guess unofficial hiatus does that.