Notes: Hey readdeeersss, thanks for the comments! I hope you enjoy the fic so far on this fanfiction site! I hope you like my take on the characters and I hope y'all stay for the upcoming updates~ here's an extra long chapter for y'all. Enjoy!
Ichigo was exhausted, beat, sapped, and spent, whatever you want to call it. He was tired, period. He was currently flat on the wooden kitchen floor, a wet rag in his hand. He was rinsing it when his legs just decided to have a break without his consent. All the work was mostly done anyway. He had used the past few hours cleaning the house; ridding the place of the bloody evidence the blue-haired devil decided to leave lying around. Ichigo realised that his cleaning list was pretty damn long. He felt like he was the nanny in a lame ass point-click game called Nanny Mania, kinda like the one you would continuously click on different tasks and the nanny would just do it without fail. Yeah, he was the damn slave nanny. He had to clean the floor at the doorway, the couch (thank god, it was some cheap waxy material), the door, the carpet and outside the doorway, not forgetting the toilet, of course. When he found out he was going to practically clean out the whole house, he didn't bother finding Grimmjow's own arsenal of cleaning supplies because he knew it wouldn't be enough.
So, he just went out the market store that he visited just before and bought out their whole bleach and cleaning supplies section. To be fair, it was almost empty with like three bottles left, so he bought all of it, not caring if they were different brands.
He got a lot of strange looks from the other customers. It was like 10pm and there were still some people shopping around. When he went to cashier to pay, the old Asian lady behind the cashier served him nervously. Obviously, buying a huge amount of cleaning supplies usually meant 'clean-up' and in this neighbourhood, Ichigo bet she had seen weirder people buying from her cleaning supplies aisle. People were also staring, it wasn't too late out so there was quite a number of decent public.
Shoving all the items in a couple of brown paper bags, Ichigo made a dead run back to the apartment. The running was definitely paying off because he reached the place in record time. He took the stairs up, realising that the blood that he had seen on the way up was definitely Grimmjow's. Oh my god, I'm going to have to clean the fucking staircase. What the shiitttt? Ichigo inwardly groaned.
So why was he doing this? It was simple. If someone decided to tip off to the cops that there was weird blood stains, the cops would immediately arrest Grimmjow's ass. It was the worst case scenario but Ichigo didn't want to take the chances. He was repaying a favour. Grimmjow saved his, Ichigo was going to save Grimmjow's now.
Suddenly, he had a great idea. He left the bags outside Grimmjow's door before making a detour to the basement where the janitor's closet and rest area was placed. Luckily for him, the janitor, an old man with the longest beard ever, looking like Dumbledore, was drinking coffee out of a McDonald's cup. The old man immediately glared at him as he approached him, "¿Entiendes el inglés?"
The old man just nodded. "I need you to clean the emergency staircase from the entrance to the third floor, especially the third floor, the railings the floor, bleach and all that, I want it clean."
The old man just raised an eyebrow in question. Ichigo just answered, "There's, um, stains. Blood stains. I need you to get rid of it. I don't want any trouble with the Feds." He dug out his wallet, taking out a fifty, folding it a little, he held his hand out in a handshake. The other man just smirked and nodded, returning Ichigo's handshake, taking the money.
"Si alguien pregunta, no sabes nada." Ichigo said seriously, "Por favor, señor"
"No worry kid," the old man replied with a slight accent.
After the gruelling clean up the whole fucking night, by the time the sun just went up, he had just finished. Exhausted to the bone, lying where he was now. Then, he felt something walk over his legs, tiny steps over his shin and suddenly a fluff in between. He didn't freak out because he didn't want to wake the other man up. He slowly raised himself up to see a white cat sleeping in between his legs. Worst of all, there was a bloody fucking handprint on the animal, though the blood had dried up a little. Poor cat. Snatching a cloth from his seated position, not moving his legs, he tried to wipe off the cat, since the cloth was still wet. Sensing the moist towel, it immediately skittered off to Grimmjow room. At least some of it was off. He had noticed that Grimmjow's place was pretty covered in fur and he hadn't noticed a pet anywhere since just now. He figured that it was a stray, doing whatever it wants like its owner. He went back to the front door to grab his stuff where he had left them, the Chinese food and the food for the sandwiches still fine.
He could hear loud snoring from the main room, a sign that the man he just saved was still alive and kicking. A good sign. He took out the two servings of chow mien and pot stickers. He reheated them in a single pan, mixing them both together, not giving a damn if they weren't of the same flavour. Food is food. They were going to mix in his stomach anyway. He sat on the counter top and ate straight from the pan as if he didn't know what a plate was. He didn't want any extra dishes and extra cleaning because after hours of cleaning, the damn word itself pissed him off. He couldn't deny he was such a hobo, sitting cross legged atop the kitchen counter eating day old Chinese food from a frying pan. Eating with chopsticks, he checked his phone with his other hand at the same time, duly noting that he had a job at the art gallery that night.
He washed up the last of his mess and decided to make the man sandwiches, although they were for himself. He had seen the fridge and noticed the food stock was bare. He bet the man can't even cook a good meal in that condition. He made some chicken sandwiches, covered it in cling wrap and left it on the table with a note. And headed for Shinji's.
Working at the art gallery was actually pretty fun. Even before the opening, Ichigo would get the very first glimpse of the whole art collection. This time it was a couple of local artists and sculptors. Their varied work on the theme 'touch' placed all over the white walled, cement floored gallery. He worked as per normal: serving the men and women who entered, offering them drinks, giving directions to the nearest bathroom, the normal waiter job roll.
As time passed, the art gallery became more crowded, more visitors coming in and Ichigo had to work faster. He was being shoved around by the constantly moving customers. He was averagely tall, so people who wanted drinks could easily spot him and would gesture for him. If not, he would stand at a good location; weaving around customers would be rude and a little dangerous if you were carrying a tray of 100 dollar wine.
Halfway through the job, more people crowded around him in a single conversation He was serving a kind woman, answering her questions about the art gallery. That was when he felt a roaming hand on his butt. The hand stayed there too long for his taste, persistently on the curve. Ichigo tried to subtly swerve it away but it remained, which meant the molester was in the conversation that was going on around him. Then the large grip began to squeeze really hard on his left cheek. By then, it was supremely uncomfortable and any semblance of professionalism he held on to was thrown out the window. He turned swiftly to face the asshole, preparing himself mentally for a possible beat down.
The moment he turned, he saw a woman with seafoam green hair gripping a man's palm tightly in her manicured fingers. She was crushing down really tight from what he could see on the molester's expression. She leaned down to whisper into the assailant's ear and the man nodded vigorously. With the final squeeze, Ichigo was pretty sure he heard some cracking sounds and the man groaned really loud. The man sped off to the exit without looking back.
"Don't worry, hun. I got you." The woman smiled at him. Her green hair were like lustrous waves on her head extending down her shoulder, framing her face beautifully. Her beautiful emerald body-con dress made her look like a mermaid. Studying her expression, she had looked extremely familiar with the way she grinned. The shape of her face, the sharp nose and cupids bow was reminiscent of someone. It was probably a coincidence.
"Thank you." And she nodded, wandering off to look at other exhibits in the gallery. The rest of the shift went on fine.
As he entered the staff lounge, finally finishing his job, he could hear a man groaning in pain. Ichigo barged in, ready to help. He regretted once he saw the scene.
There was a woman doing a crab body lock on the weird-hat. Her rump sitting on the back of the man's head and his feet being held under her pits. The man was being bent in half, almost, and it looked like it really hurt. He watched them and realised,
"Yoruichi?!" The woman had been facing away from him and dropped the man's legs, without a second to spare. She knew his voice. She stood up quickly, wiping the non-existent dust from her dress and fixing her hair like she was caught making out. But it was far from that.
"Oh hey Ichigo. So, you're the new waiter he talked about." She went towards him, leaning in for a hug. Ichigo could only stare at the lump of a man on the ground, face flat on the hard floor. He hugged her, his gaze still on the limp body.
"Is he okay?" Ichigo asked, for the safety of the man.
"He better be because he's my ride back," his land-owner snidely replied. She was obviously angry at weird hat, like a wife towards her husband. The man could only grunt in approval. Yoruichi also invited him on the ride back since they were already living in the same apartment. Apparently they were arguing about some mishaps with the buyers. The weird-hat had mixed up their orders and was too slow to fix them. Yoruichi, surprisingly, was a partner and had to handle the nonsense which pissed her off. It was none of Ichigo's business but they were arguing too loudly. Even the passers-by would have heard their problem. After a tough moment, Ichigo was paid in cash and they all headed to the car.
"So you guys know each other?" Ichigo tried to break the awkward silence in the car.
"We're dating."
"You guys are dating?! Since when? I thought you were a lesbian or something." The man just guffawed as he drove. Yoruichi punched him in the gut and he immediately shut up.
"Ichi, darling, I'm pansexual. That's a different thing. I love all beings." She praised herself shamelessly. And everyone in the car laughed. After a few minutes, Ichigo was already knocked out from exhaustion, the car's air con coaxing him to sleep.
Grimmjow
Owwwwwww.
He woke up experiencing all sorts of pain. The throbbing headache, his left arm was numb and his stomach hurt like crazy. He laid on his bed from his side position to flat, and stared at the ceiling. He grabbed his phone that was on the bed table where he'd left it there even before the fight. He used his right arm because he can't move the left. He speed dialled someone and put it on speaker, the call went through and a man answered,
"What day is it?" Grimmjow croaked, his voice parched.
"Friday. Why?"
"I'm injured and I can't get up."
"Why?"
"From the damn fight on Tuesday. Bring some food and come over, I'll tell ya about it."
"Ok yeah, I'll stop by with your sister too."
"A'right."
He met Nnoitora in the arena, in Germany where he first got into the business. That was usually how he would usually first meet the Espadas. It was a brutal first meeting. Grimmjow succeeded the first three fights, marginally winning against Zommari Rureaux, el Séptima. The fighter wielded brass knuckles coated with some hallucinogen. Grimmjow knew that those things were hiding some sort of chemical and avoided them at all cost. He defeated the man with his kicks, the winning kick being a close encounter with the knuckles.
The ranking fights had been closed to public, a testing ground for the Arrancars, trying to get in rank with the Espadas. Nnoitora had been his first loss, it was a close one too. His loss had been warranted, his opponent was an experienced fighter, making use of Grimmjow's fatigue to bring him down. With the loss to the Quinto, he was ranked Sexta. Grimmjow took what was given to him, the meeting with the other higher ranking Espadas were on the practice mats, which was as horrible. He grew close to the Espadas as they trained at Aizen's private property. His relationship with Nnoitora was a love-hate one. They stuck to each other even before Grimmjow moved here. Neliel knew Nnoitora even before him, making it him fit in easier under his skin.
He trusted the man with his sister which was the most important in his book.
He went in and out of consciousness until he heard loud noises from outside. Someone had entered his house again.
"Grimmjow?" It was his sister's voice. Thank god.
"In heereee," Grimmjow shouted from his bed. He still hadn't move out from his bed, more likely due to the fact that he had too little energy to move. He had slept for two days from what he discovered and his body craved for food.
He heard munching sounds from the kitchen, heading towards his room. "Hey, there's like sandwiches on your counter. It's still pretty good," Nnoitora walked in, speaking with his mouth full. He was chewing obnoxiously with what seems to be a sandwich in his hand.
"Fuck man. I'm starving, give it to me," Grimmjow groaned to Nnoitora.
"Here, here, I got it," Oh god bless my sister. Neliel came in with a bowl of something in her hands, going towards Grimmjow. She fed him little scoops at a time, she knew her brother was in bad condition, readily offering aid. All the while, she gave him a worried look, Nnoitora just standing at the doorway, finishing the sandwich.
"What happened Grimmjow? Tell us the whole thing, no skipping anything," Nel questioned her brother, after feeding him the last bite.
"Went for a fight in Las Noches, Lappy something was my opponent, managed to slash my stomach then the whole place was evacuated cos the Feds were coming. Some assholes came in and banged up my arm before I made a run for it. Got a ride back on somebody's bike. To be honest, I was gonna die from blood loss when Ichigo-"
"Ichigo? Who?" Nel interrupted.
"It's that drunken kid he saved twice," Nnoitora intervened to answer her question.
"The kid patched me up and that's it, I slept until a few hours ago when I woke up," Grimmjow finished explaining to his sister and his best friend.
"Dude, you sure you lost a lot of blood? From what I see, your house is friggin spotless," Nnoitora asked with a hint of doubt.
So that was what the kid was doing all night. It was no wonder the cat that snuck up to cuddle with him subtly smelt like Klorox.
"He must have cleaned it up then," Grimmjow shrugged in response.
"Wait, you didn't head back to Medical? After you were already bleeding your ass off?" Neliel stared at him incredulously.
"The feds were there, alright. I had to leave."
Neliel just looked away, not knowing how to react. She hated Aizen as much as he did. Both of the siblings not wanting to involve themselves any further with the mobster, knowing that it was impossible. They were too far deep in the business, not only was Grimmjow representing the gang, Neliel too had the same role. Former el
Número Tres, Neliel was also a fighter, until Grimmjow traded himself in exchange for hers. It was a noble act but it had to be done. She had much more left inside of her for the real world. Grimmjow didn't, that's why he sacrificed himself for her. An exchange that his sister could never forgive, even until now. Whenever Grimmjow was injured, she would always have the same expression as she did now: of worry, anger and revenge.
They were in too deep and they couldn't get out.
Somewhere else…
"Okay, Ichigo I need you to look to your right. Yeah, don't move your body. Eh, that's great."
Who knew modelling was really easy?
He's in the 17th combination of clothes from the fall collection, a grey woollen sweater, khaki pants and boots with a beige scarf wrapped around his neck. The whole photoshoot had been a long process. He had to come at five in the morning to try out all the different clothes that Isane and Mizuiro had prepared for him. After the fifth time changing, he didn't bother to do it behind the curtain any longer, he would just stand in his briefs and putting on whatever they threw at him. Behind the scenes, Uryuu was having an interview with the magazine writer and a TV show host. Ichigo modelling would be the background of his interview, which was pretty cool. Uryuu figured might as well get some actual shots done for publication as well.
Ichigo would stand in all sorts of poses depending on the colour of the clothes he was wearing. Dark colours had him standing in gloomy, stagnant poses and bright ones had him smiling, peace signing and all that flirty shit.
Every few seconds, Isane would fix his eye makeup, powder his face, pat his hair into position. It was annoying but it was his job so he couldn't complain. He was standing on the white background, his body getting photographed but his head in the clouds.
I'm so hungry right now and I'm not even joking. I want to eat Indian but-
"Look away from the camera, Ichigo!"
It's not listed in Tatsuki's diet-
"A little to the right, look down, yes"
But I don't actually give a shit. But then, she'll he pissed at me. Then, she'll punch me and that would hurt like a bit-
"GREAT JOB GUYS! THE SHOOT'S DONE! WE GOT THE FINAL SHOT."
Oh hey woop woop. Finally,
Then the whole staff, which was around six people gathered around him for a group hug. Importantly, the job was done and he would get a week's break and a heavy paycheck.
"Oi Ichigo we're going for drinks, join us?"
"No thanks. I don't drink." Well, not anymore. Who would have guessed that he was an alcoholic two months ago? The changes that he went through within this period of time was overwhelming. The jobs, the people, the reunions. His life had changed for the better, he hopes that it'll stay that way. However, lingering in his mind was the fact that it was never the case, especially with his outstanding luck.
"I should better check up on Grimmjow."
At Ramo's…
"Hey hime, Get me a chicken soup and some fish tacos. With a side of crutons and nachos."
"Coming right up."
The plans for Indian was out of the question since he was planning to eat with Grimmjow. Thinking realistically, stomach wound and diarrhoea: the worst combination for anyone to experience.
It was already Sunday. A few days ago, he just saved the man's life then immediately went on to work continuously. He hadn't had time to really rest, most nights occupied with his shift at the art gallery and his mornings were mostly testing out clothes at I.D or helping Shinji out with his jewellery collection. He was beat. Most of the time, he would sleep on the way back but it's not a proper rest. He can't wait to go back home after checking up on Grimmjow and just lay flat for a minimum of 24 hours.
He strolled to the other man's apartment, the sun already setting. Truthfully he was nervous, his heart practically pounding out of his chest. The moment in the toilet was magical despite the location. His lips, his warmth was everything that Ichigo had imagined the man would be like. The man was clearly drunk and hallucinating. He knew that Grimmjow was too lucid to recognise him and maybe the man thought that he was his girlfriend or someone else who patched him up. It was a mistake but he so wished it would be more. Ichigo tried to calm himself down, repeating to himself that Grimmjow wouldn't remember it. He took the emergency staircase again, pleasantly noticing that it was spotless. He was quickly going up, trying to loosen his muscles from all that nervousness. Ichigo opened the door with the key that he'd found when he was cleaning the floor that day. It was just lying on the ground that day. He figured it was a spare since it was just thrown about. He could hear the TV playing which sent shivers down his spine.
The last time he visited, in the exact same environment, he found Grimmjow bleeding to death. He prayed that whatever behind the door wouldn't be what he imagined or worse.
Please, please.
The lights were on this time and Grimmjow was sitting in the couch in that same position, Ichigo paled. His heartbeat quickening again.
"Grimmjow? That you?" his voice a little shaky in nervousness,
"Oh hey, that you Ichigo? Ya brought food? Come on over here." Grimmjow turned his head towards him, gesturing towards Ichigo to the couch. It was a tense two seconds then Ichigo inwardly sighed.
He took off the coat he wore from the shoot; a knee length emerald coat over what he wore from the shoot. He hadn't bothered to change since he was going to have to wear it out for I.D promotions anyway. Grimmjow silently regarded him from his position the whole time, Ichigo just ignored the unnerving stare Grimmjow gave him. He headed to the kitchen first to help himself to the bottled water before going to the couch, bringing the bag of takeaways as well.
"You look good." He heard, as he was bending over to set the food on the table.
"Oh uh, thanks. I got you chicken soup and croutons. From Ramo's", he said to Grimmjow, not really looking at him but still able to see the man's reaction.
"Cool." It was the normal Grimmjow voice. No stuttering, no awkward pauses. It was the usual rough, monotonous voice and a definite sign that Grimmjow didn't really remember what he did at the toilet. Or he wasn't really affected by it, it was also likely. Though Ichigo was more convinced that Grimmjow didn't know what happened and who patched him up. It was a bittersweet sensation but Ichigo could cope.
They began to eat, focusing heavily on some documentary. There were sudden noises and rustling from somewhere.
Meow,
Meow.
The cat sauntered in, rubbing its head on Ichigo leg, demanding for some of his food. Ichigo gave a few in offering and the cat was appeased, taking a comfortable spot in between the two men. The silence was normal but for Ichigo it was deafening.
"Pantera knows you?" Grimmjow asked.
"Yeah, he came in last Tuesday when you were asleep." Wow, what a way to bring in the subject subtly. He wanted to face-palm but he didn't.
"Oh yeah. About that, thanks Ichigo for the whole thing. The stitches all were great and clean. And the sandwiches, those were," Grimmjow tried to find a word for it, "nice."
Ichigo heart made giant leap. If he knew it was me so that means. He kissed me, on purpose? The thought rammed into Ichigo brain and he started to sweat. He acted cool, the man wasn't talking about it so he shouldn't.
He just hmm-ed, feigning ignorance; trying to mask his anxiety by shoving nachos in his mouth.
"So what you been up to?" Grimmjow changed the subject of the conversation, sensing Ichigo reply was too short. He didn't mean to do that but Ichigo wanted the conversation to not continue in that direction. The reason mainly because he didn't want the good atmosphere to turn weird.
"I've been working a lot: waiter at an art gallery and a part-time model for an old friend of mine."
"Yeah? My sister visits art galleries a lot, that's where she get art pieces for her cafe."
It was a few silent moments. The food already gone, both of them staring at the muted tv screen.
"You look way better. Healthier too," the man continued to speak. Ichigo couldn't help but blush at the compliment, the heat rising to his cheeks. He just smiled widely at Grimmjow, a little happy at the notion that the man had noticed things about him. He risked the smile, it's not as if he was totally inept during social situations.
He suddenly frowned, his expression marred after the immediate stunned look. "Let's clean this up," Grimmjow abruptly stood. Did I do something wrong?
Feeling a little flustered, "I'll help."
"Nah it's totally fine. I'll do it." He had grabbed all the empty boxes including Ichigo's.
"Grimmjow its fine. You're hurt. I can help you throw it out." He tried to reach for the stack Grimmjow was holding however the man insistently moved it away from him.
Ichigo didn't give up, they were in between the couch and the coffee table so there wasn't enough space to gain any leverage against the man. His feeble attempts was amusing to Grimmjow apparently, because the man was actually chuckling.
The blue-haired man would try to move forward and get out next to him but Ichigo wouldn't back away. Going the other direction didn't seem to be an option at that moment since there were a few pillows on the ground, blocking the way. Anyway, they were too busy messing with each other.
Ichigo accidentally took a step back when his heel met something soft.
MREOW! Oh fuck. The cat was curious with what they were doing decided to butt in, only to be stepped on.
Ichigo was shocked and he lost his balance. Even then, he still angled his body to land on the couch. Grimmjow, being too close to Ichigo also fell forward but not fully.
He had closed his eyes as he landed on the cushion. He met soft padding so he was all good at this end. Grimmjow, on the other hand, maybe not.
"Grimm, are you okay?" He opened his eyes, realising that the man was a little too close. Their breaths were mingled and their faces just an inch away from colliding horribly. He could still smell a little of the chicken soup, and the scent of tobacco and after-shave.
"What'd you call me?"
"Grimm? Oh sh-, I meant Grimmjow. I didn't mean to call yo-" Ichigo could only stutter a half-assed excuse. He just said it without really thinking.
All of a sudden, the other man's lips crashed into his. Ichigo immediately closed his eyes and took what was given. The passionate exchange was everything Ichigo had ever dreamt off, a repeat of what happened the other day. It was as great, and he didn't mind the revision of it. The other man's presence was surrounding him from all corners. His own back on the couch and those ludicrously thick arms cornering him. The body emanated warmth on the chilly night and Ichigo longed for it, and maybe for something more.
The other man was definitely an experienced in the kissing field. His lips varied in movements and in strength, his tongue entering Ichigo mouth, exploring every little part of Ichigo; everything that he could offer. Ichigo just went with it. He had his own experiences with kissing, mostly women but he enjoyed this way more than he did with them. He always did take control but he didn't like the way a woman's lips were too soft, too moist and most of the times, layered with scented some scented substance like lip gloss.
The other man's lips was a great balance of hardness and smoothness. Ichigo gave himself to the kiss, letting the other man do the devouring. The man explored his mouth and it got him all hot and bothered. He could already imagine what the other man could do in bed if he already kissed this good.
Ichigo wrapped his arms around the man's broad shoulders. The position made it perfect for him to rest his arms on the other man's wide pair of shoulders. The muscles below it were solid and strong, slightly bulging. Ichigo played with the hair on the nape of his neck, sometimes grabbing the blue mane to get into a good position. And every single time, the other man would growl in the kiss, sending shivers down Ichigo's spine. Ichigo wanted his hands to travel down but considering the other man's injuries, he didn't want to do anything rash. As if making out was really that dangerous.
It was a solid eight minutes and Ichigo started having trouble breathing. They had made out without break. Ichigo could clearly see why this man was ex-navy SEAL. Holding his breath for extended amounts of time must be basic for a man of his calibre. Ichigo couldn't hold it anymore and hastily faced to the left. The other man's lips landing on his cheek.
It pleased Ichigo greatly when he saw that the other man was as dishevelled as he was. Surprisingly the other man was still holding on to the empty boxes (albeit a bit crushed). Ichigo had to slightly push the man's shoulders before the man would back off.
"I'll throw this out." The man's lips were plumped and glistening with saliva. His hair was also a mess, thanks to Ichigo's hands and Ichi really liked that look on him.
Ichigo could only nod because he couldn't trust his own voice. When the men left for the kitchen, Ichigo made a break to the toilet. He was half hard even though he really wanted to pee. He emptied his bladder, eternally grateful that his hard on went down as the liquids left his body.
He was in the same toilet where they shared their first kiss. It was an odd place to share something so special but it still meant the world to him. He washed his hands and slightly dabbed his face with water, staring at the reflection in front of him.
His face was smooth and his hair was combed back, a little darker from the gel. His face was smooth because of the makeup that he didn't remove. Actually, he was pretty sure he didn't look that much different. He was a lot better honestly, compared to who he was a few weeks back. He couldn't believe his luck, whatever that had happened to him recently, had made more of an impact in his life than the previous years ever did.
And Grimmjow was a big part of it. He had much of his decisions to thank the man for.
Closing the toilet door behind him, he went back to the living room. Before that, he had to pass the kitchen, where he saw Grimmjow standing in front of the sink with his shirt pulled up slightly. There weren't any bandages wrapped around his torso which meant they must have healed a little. The man seemed to be prodding his wound which got Ichigo worried a little.
"Hey, uh Grimmjow. You okay there?"
Grimmjow didn't seemed to be surprised when he heard his voice behind him. Letting the shirt drop, he just shrugged and turned to the other room.
"Nah, it's nothing. Just a little itchy." It definitely wasn't nothing, itchiness could mean an infection, which would be extremely bad news with a wound that big. Ichigo's guts churned a little. He had to make sure.
He quickly reached out for the man's arm, wrapping his palm around the man's elbow. "Wait, let me see. I have to check if there's anything wrong with it. I fixed it, I want to make sure." The man regarded him, and he saw how Grimmjow's eyes were tired.
He just nodded, almost as if he had wanted Ichigo's opinion as well. He automatically lifted his shirt, exposing the ripped abdominals to Ichigo. It would've been a perfect sight other than the huge scar. His body was beautiful nonetheless.
Ichigo bent his body a little. Getting a little closer to the wound, he couldn't smell any distinct pungent scent, one of the signs of infection. He made sure to prod around the area with two fingers lightly, on every inch of the wound, trying finding any wet lumps or secretion. Everything looked good. The scar tissue had been forming already which probably meant the itching could possibly just be the new skin growing.
Testing out the elasticity of the skin around the area, he discovered that it was definitely itching because of the stitches. A usual scar this deep would take like a week to heal, it's been five days and a new epidermal layer was already forming. It wasn't exactly a supernatural healing ability but the rate of healing was still amazing. He could already rip off a few of the synthetic strands but he can't just randomly pull them off in the kitchen. He had to ask first because manners.
"The wounds fine, no infection." He could visibly see the man's relief like a weight being lifted off his shoulders.
"The stiches were causing the itch. I think you should uh, remove it. There's no infection but there is some growing skin, might accidentally cover the stitches. You want to remove it?" Ichigo was pretty sure the man would say yes. And he did.
Even then he didn't really wait for a reply, he just turned towards the makeshift E.R to get the stuff ready. He went to the drawers immediately where he could hear Grimmjow walking in and sitting on the side of the bed. He sanitized the tweezers and the scissors with the alcohol swabs. Turning to face the man, he was never going to get used to that god-like body. The muscles were a piece of art, they could make it a national treasure. Like honestly, I've only seen porn stars with that type of body and it wasn't as good.
He braced himself, praying that he wouldn't spot an awkward boner when trying to help the guy. Grimmjow was still as a statue, oblivious to his staring. He was looking out the window, just sitting still.
Ichigo knelt on the floor, facing Grimmjow's body and making sure to tap on the man's shoulder, just in case he was dreaming way too far out. Seeing no change in the man, Ichigo quietly worked on the man's stomach wound. He slowly sectioned the jutting part of the stitch with the tweezers before he snipped the small line of the stitch. He tugged it loose and out, and saw no reaction from Grimmjow. Obviously the man was used to the tingling sensation and since there was no pain, Ichigo continued to work in a more fruitful pace. The whole affair was silent, both parties not making any significant effort to change it.
Update coming soon!