Ulquiorra managed to ignore his impulses to return to the slums for a single meager week. To be fair, the only reason he chose to go back once more in the end was because he had very nearly managed to fumble up on an assassination after finally beginning to receive assignments again. For him to hit the balding politician's head two centimeters below his intended target spot from his hidden perch a building and several stories higher away was simply unfathomable and unacceptable.
And all because his foolish mind seemed obstinately intent on seeing piercing blue and wild bloodthirsty grins. He couldn't understand why those images occupied his thoughts so persistently but it had reached the point where they became a hindrance to his work. Thus, he had concluded to deal with the situation directly- by going and seeing the source of his ire.
After delivering his written report to Tousen-sama about the success of his latest task (including his error since no matter how much he wished to omit it, the dead body revealed everything so he may as well be honest) and sending an inconspicuous glare at Gin-sama when the foxy man waved cheerily, Ulquiorra strode towards the elevators and began the long descent to the bottom of the sixty-four leveled building.
While the top floor was befitting of his lord's status and it allowed their organization to discuss matters that the mindless trash below had no business hearing about, it was a tad tedious when all one had to do was drop off some papers.
The elevator abruptly smoothly eased to a stop at the fifty-eighth floor and made a small dinging noise before the stainless steel doors slid silently open to allow another person on. Ulquiorra's expression didn't alter even the slightest bit but he was inwardly satisfied to see it was one of the few people whose presence he found relatively tolerable.
Pink hair with bangs pushed meticulously to the left side of an angular face was a physical appearance unique to the octava, Szayel Apporo Granz. His white-rimmed glasses and pristine white lab coat over pressed brown slacks gave the overall impression of a neat, highly intellectual and respectable doctor which for the most part to the general public, he was. The insanity that occasionally glinted in his mustard colored eyes and his true personality said otherwise however, and they spoke volumes of his credibility as a licensed doctor.
In other words, he was the perfect person to serve as the medic and occasional poisoner for Aizen-sama's 'company.'
Sadistic nature and haughty attitude aside, Szayel was one of the few dubiously sane individuals Ulquiorra trusted to hold a relatively normal conversation with and his skills were ones he had come to appreciate after witnessing the octava's effortless and quick doctoring on others and on himself. He just immensely disliked being in the other's presence whenever the octava finished a spat with his elder brother since he tended to fall into one of his peculiar acting routine's and became an insufferable fool hellbent on making others as miserable or irritated as himself.
To his relief, Szayel's demeanor was one of professional calm and composure and his words were of ordinary friendly conversation as he joined him.
"Heading out Ulquiorra?"
He was flipping through some papers in his arms as he asked and though he seemed like he wasn't paying any attention to him, Ulquiorra was well aware that the observant scientist was hardly distracted. Keeping his gaze fixed on the glowing red numbers as the elevator continued its slow descent, he replied in a neutral murmur, "I have some business to take care of." Ulquiorra pointedly ignored the speculative look that appeared on the octava's face.
Fortunately, Szayel didn't press for more. Instead, he glanced through more papers and asked rather randomly, "Have any idea why Aizen-sama keeps sending Starrk out on intel missions? That narcoleptic idiot keeps whining to me about losing precious sleep hours for a mission he has no details about." Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed slightly- that was rather strange. Aizen-sama typically gave a clear order of what he wanted no matter how inane a threat it was to him. In fact, intel missions in general were never necessary since nothing could slip by the wily fox he had at his side.
His muted silence caused his colleague to sigh woefully. "Oh well. If even you don't know what's going on then it's probably just Gin-sama asking for entertainment again." A highly plausible theory but not quite one Ulquiorra could see his lord adhering to. Spontaneous verification tests were one thing, using the primera for pointless missions was an entirely different matter. He mulled over other possibilities before immediately cutting his thoughts off. He had no business questioning his lord's decisions, no matter how unusual they may be.
Szayel seemed to have reached the same conclusion since he just shrugged, glared impatiently at the slowly decreasing numbers on the elevator screen before looking back at the cuarta.
"So... what sort of business do you have that could possibly force you to stop doing obsessive research of every single one of Aizen-sama's potential enemies?" Had Ulquiorra been a lesser person, he would have groaned at the return to a topic he had no wish to discuss. As it was though, he merely stated plainly, "I have been distracted as of late. I am merely going to try to resolve this." He had hoped his words were cryptic enough that the scientist wouldn't quite be able to understand while still being mostly satisfied by his response but to his dismsy, the scientist was not as idiotic as Yammy. He immediately identified the source of his problem.
"You mean you haven't gotten rid of... that?"
Irritated emerald met inquiring mustard-colored orbs. "There is no need to." That was a lie and he had a feeling his colleague knew that but all Szayel did was sigh and say, "Just be careful alright? It'd be a problem if word got out that the cuarta got himself killed in a botched mission because he was smitten with a thug."
The corner's of his mouth tugged down in the faintest sign of displeasure at the light-hearted comment as Ulquiorra muttered, "As if such utter foolishness could ever happen." He then added for good measure, "And I am not... smitten. It is merely curiosity." Somehow, even to his ears those words didn't quite ring true. But as per usual, when faced with emotions or feelings he couldn't comprehend, Ulquiorra dismissed them and stuffed them into the depths of his consciousness where he wouldn't need think about them.
Szayel smirked, flashing Ulquiorra a saucy wink as the elevator finally reached the bottom floor, the doors swinging open in time with his final comment.
"Keep telling yourself that cuarta. Curiosity is always the beginning. It's what comes after that becomes the problem."
And with that, the octava strode away, his long white lab coat swaying in time with his light steps as he resumed flipping through his papers. Ulquiorra hesitated briefly before stepping out as well, his thoughts once more slipping towards issues he had no desire to address.
He couldn't comprehend what the scientist meant but he knew the other had been giving him a warning of sorts much like before. If he were to be candidly honest with himself -a rare feat of introspection and not one he liked to explore- then he would admit that his interest in the street fighter was not quite like his usual aloof curiosity.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he should end things permanently. That man -Grimmjow his mind supplied unhelpfully- was a piece of trash that was extremely dangerous in numerous ways. His physical prowess, his bestial intensity, his godly beauty... Ulquiorra sharply deterred from that line of thought as he began striding gracefully out of the building.
Yes, perhaps it was time to eliminate the seed before it grew into something even more troublesome.
Grimmjow was just about ready to kill something. Or someone. Preferably the latter since he found more joy in breaking bones than in breaking already broken bottles or whatever other trash was strewn on the ground. Point being, he was pissed and he needed an outlet.
Not only had his opponents been chickening out for the past three consecutive fights but he also had a sick Nel, a worried Ichigo, an idiotic moony Shiro who apparently managed to get his tight-ass nerdy boyfriend to sleep with him last night, and last but most definitely not the damn least, glacial emerald orbs that refused to stop invading his every fucking thought.
That last one was by far, the worst. He'd met the guy what, twice? And neither encounter had been exactly la-dee-da sunshine and butterflies. Hell, both encounters had only served to heighten his awareness of the shady guy's character. He couldn't tell if it was because his gut instinct was telling him the little shit was dangerous or if it was his libido going on a hormone spree after finally seeing someone who looked like they'd make a great one night stand without fading on him halfway in the night.
Goddamn he needed sex. Sex was like fighting and food- it was his third lifeline and one he didn't plan on giving up on just because bastards were more keen on fucking the weaker looking twins (they'd be in for the worst time of their lives if they ever managed to land the completely insatiable and overpowering duo in bed) and the prostitutes were too busy cooing over how positively adorable the not-actually-sexual relationship between him and Ichigo was.
Urgh. Women and their weird as fuck fantasies about gay men. He would never understand them even if he did go completely gay. Ichigo was hot, yes. He had one amazing ass, hell yeah. But by all the damn gods in whatever rainbow and sparkles world up there existed, that didn't mean he would ever be romantically tied to someone who knew more about him than he himself probably knew.
Stupid fantasies. Stupid misconceptions. Stupid no one-night stands.
A lone gangster came into view, saw his murderous look, and promptly high-tailed away. And Grimmjow had just been about to get his damn hopes up. Stupid weaklings. Stupid lack of fights.
Piercing green flashed in his head again.
Stupid stuck-up bastards who stick themselves in other people's heads and then vanish off the face of the earth like a freaking pixy.
Growling under his breath, sharp canines glinting as they were partly revealed beneath his snarling lips, Grimmjow stormed around the corner of a building and it was like deja-fucking-vu when he smashed into something that was sturdier than half the brick walls in the area and yet still skinnier than a twig.
Thanking all the karma that still favored him in their own twisted way for having let him be fully healed from all his past injuries since that hit would have definitely garnered some soreness and stinging, Grimmjow glared down at pitch black hair that was luckily concealing the stupid orbs floating in his thoughts.
There were several questions he wanted to demand, some going more deep and personal and shit than he cared to address or even know the answers to so he opened his mouth to say the safest one.
Why the hell are you here?
"Where the hell've you been?"
There was a momentary awkward silence. Well shit that wasn't what he meant to ask. That was too jealous-boyfriend-cliche it wasn't even funny. Shiro would be laughing his ass off if he ever found out about this. But he was never one to take back what was already said so he just maintained his demanding air as though that was what he wanted to know all along.
It got a bit difficult to keep up when emerald finally locked onto his gaze but Grimmjow's pride refused to give away any of the uncertainty he felt inside. He could ask whatever he damn well pleased and make it sound totally natural. Well, not quite since Zaraki once told him he was about as good at lying as he was with drawing anything more complex than a stick figure but that was beside the point.
He was antsy, annoyed, frustrated both sexually and not, and one of the main sources of his bad temper had finally decided to grace him with his holier-than-thou presence.
He just wished the little bastard said something instead of staring at him as though he wanted to either fuck him senseless or viciously slaughter him.
Ulquiorra inwardly questioned the true abilities of the passage of time. A single week and this trash, this inconceivably beautiful trash, had become something even more stunning. Without the bruises, the scratches, the broken bones... never had Ulquiorra seen something more perfect than the sculpted form before him.
He felt a need, a compelling almost desperate need to do something but he didn't know what it was. He settled for the easiest one to turn to: he needed to end this man before he drowned further into those terribly blue eyes.
He needed to drain that vitality thrumming in a powerful body, eradicate the pulsating warmth the man emanated that he could feel even when he wasn't touching him. He needed to make this beautiful Adonis an ugly, lifeless corpse that would rot along with the other human filth because he was far too distracting, too enticing, to be allowed to live in the same world as he did.
He forgot entirely about the fact that the other had asked him a question. His fight or flight instinct had chosen to kill and he refused to risk any further hesitation lest he experience another bout of uncertainty. He needed to kill this man before whatever it was that was growing between them without either of their consent engulfed him.
There could only be one perfect godly being in his world. There was no room for two. He had Aizen-sama. Powerful, charismatic, cruel, and kind Aizen-sama who was there to illuminate his otherwise black and white world. He didn't need anyone else. He didn't want anyone else.
So this man had to die.
Something must have reflected in his eyes or his facial expression because the street fighter looked surprised for a moment before a fierce grin graced his face.
"Ya wanna have a go?"
The guttural tone, the pink tongue with that tiny silver piercing that slipped out to wet lips, the ripple of muscles beneath golden skin, the bloodlust that raged in those eyes and in every fiber of the man's very being... It was as if he had just asked if they wanted to have a round of violent hot sex and for once, Ulquiorra felt a searing heat erupt throughout his entire body, completely erasing the chill that always encompassed him.
It was an inferno that terrified him and yet one that he relished in.
Using his gun now would be unacceptable. He wanted to touch this man with fists more passionate than any sensual gesture, yearned to dominate him in this brewing competition of brute force and pure bloodlust. He wanted to force this man to submit to him, to tear down this work of perfection from his throne as king of the beasts.
Ulquiorra never realized he had become something he never thought possible.
He was excited.
Grimmjow could feel adrenaline pumping into his veins, the sweet singing sensations of anticipation and bloody desire swallowing him in their addictive flames and he was loving every single second of it. He had seen the brief flash of a predator in those blank emerald eyes. It was one of the sexiest things ever and he wanted to see it again. He didn't know if he started swinging first or if his slim opponent did.
Frankly, he didn't give a flying fuck.
All that mattered was the tremor of thrill that shot up his spine when both of them expertly dodged the fists flying towards their faces. This guy was a fighter. A strong and skilled fighter. Grimmjow would have laughed if he wasn't so busy keeping sharp cerulean orbs on the fast, deadly thusts of the other's fists. Each attack was aimed with frightening precision towards areas where he could be momentarily incapacitated or thrown of balance and it excited him even more everytime they came just a bit closer to hitting him.
Little fucker was beginning to read his movements and they had barely gotten started. This was just getting better and better.
Ducking low to avoid another hit, Grimmjow shot his leg out, attempting to swing the other's out from beneath him but with liquid grace, the guy nimbly dodged and lashed out at his unprotected head. Cursing, Grimmjow shifted with a feline flexibility that threw almost all his opponents off, throwing himself backwards and catching himself with his arms before using all the powerful muscles coiled in his stomach to thrust his feet up.
The pale man couldn't quite dodge this directly but he blocked the attack with a greater strength than his slim arms seemed to have, blunting most of the edge of the blow and using the momentum from the force of it to leap backwards and put some distance between them.
Grimmjow had a feeling the guy was as pleased as he was that neither of them were even close to being winded yet.
Glancing down at his arms, emerald eyes flickered briefly with something before they rose to meet his gaze with a sweet poisonous look.
"I will kill you."
He said it like it was a fact. Fuck that just turned him on even more. He loved death threats while fighting, it was one of the few things that could spice up any fight so long as the one saying them had the strength to back it up.
And he knew without a doubt that this guy had the potential to slaughter him if he wasn't careful.
Maniacal glee lit up his already luminescent eyes as Grimmjow hissed lowly, predatorily, "Yeah? What're you gonna do? Snap my neck? Crush every bone in my body? Rip my flesh off and paint this shitty place red? Tear out my organs and decorate the streets with 'em and then smash them into little bits with my own bones?"
Smoldering emerald, hotter than even the reddest flames, bore into him as his words became gorier. Grimmjow sneered. He wanted to get under that impeccable mask of tranquility, wanted to see the monster he knew the little bastard was hiding under it because he knew it would be a beast that could match his own. And fight talk was almost as arousing and stimulating as the foulest and dirtiest sex talk known to man.
Cracking his fists, Grimmjow lunged forward. His fist collided with another and he smirked with ecstatic delight when he felt the hard bones in his own hand crack from the pressure of colliding with almost steel bones.
He loved fighting bastards that were stronger than him.
He didn't understand.
His sharp nails drew a thin line of red as they scraped the delicate skin on the street fighter's cheek.
It was incomprehensible.
He neatly dodged an elbow swung towards his face, using the other's momentary imbalance to land what was as close to a direct blow on the other's solar plexus as they had managed to accomplish in their fight so far. The blunette was far better at fighting than he had anticipated but it was evident that he was still the stronger of the two of them.
So why?
Formerly pristine white teeth now bloodied after he had nicked the side of the man's jaw were bared in a madly anticipating grin even when a sharp jab at his shoulder garnered a quiet crack.
Why was this fool so obviously pleased?
He was the one sporting a myriad of injuries while Ulquiorra only had the faint throbbing in his arms from when he had blocked the spontaneous kick from the blunette earlier. He was the one who was quite clearly going to be the one walking away from this alive.
So why was this trash so unafraid. Thus far, all his victims had quaked in fear of losing their lives. What absurd fool laughed in the face of iminent death so carelessly?
Absolutely inconceivable.
Another sharp strike from his fist, a well-aimed jab with his elbow, a carefully-timed uppercut, and then a final powerful roundhouse sent the blunette crashing to the ground. Straddling the man's thick and strong waist, Ulquiorra pinned him down with his own unique physical prowess as one hand tightly grasped the blunette's unwounded arm to restrain it while his other slid around his throat, almost in a caressing manner had the movement not been so fatally dangerous.
And still the only sight that met him was dancing blue orbs and a shit-eating grin.
Ulquiorra stared down at the puzzling enigma below him. Stray strands of cotton-candy blue hair stuck to a lightly sweating forehead. The muscled chest he hovered above lifted up and down in quiet gasps of breath. He hadn't even realized the blunette was tiring during their fight. The fool had met him at each and every movement, perhaps the only indication he had been tired being the fact that he had stated getting hit by his attacks. He could see the tell-tale signs of bruises already beginning to form on the man's exposed glistening skin. Crimson flowed freely from the cut on his cheek. He was filthy. He was trash. He was an insignificant nobody.
And he was undeniably the most beautiful thing Ulquiorra had ever seen in his entire life.
"Ain't ya gonna finish me?"
The low rumble reverbrated from the blunette's throat to his fingers, sending a pleasant tingle through them that Ulquiorra promptly disregarded. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he murmured quietly, "You are that anxious to rush to your demise?" Predatory eyes laughed up at him.
"Not really. But if ya don't get yer ass moving, I'm gonna catch my breath and then shit will hit the fan again."
Pale fingers tightened around his throat subtly. "You still have the foolish notion that you can overpower me?" Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at the disdainful snort that ensued. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
Challenging blue stared into impassive green. The blunette never ceased to surprise him. He was a mere twitch of the hand away from death and he had the audacity to spout such arrogant nonsense with absolutely nothing to back it up.
His gaze traced the sharp contours of the street fighter's face, trailed down the strong neck grasped in his hand, took in the chiseled chest hidden beeath a crumpled and ragged shirt and then flicked back to intent blue.
He wanted to snap this man's neck. He didn't want to kill him. Ulquiorra couldn't decide what he really wanted and once again, he found himself incapable of reaching a conclusive decision all because of this infuriatingly unpredictable piece of trash.
To strangle?
To let go?
He didn't want to.
Didn't want to do what?
Ulquiorra just didn't know anymore.
And that was terribly frightening.
Grimmjow furrowed his brows in mild bafflement as he saw the almost imperceptibly lost expression on his captor's face. For someone who had seemed so self-assured and completely in control of his actions and thoughts, it was a bit unnerving to see the lack of certainty now, especially when they had been so intent on killing each other only a few moments ago.
Grimmjow wasn't a very nice person. He could give less than two shits what crap people were going through or what sort of psychological issues they were having. But something tugged inside him when he saw the bizarre expression. It reminded him too much of when he had first met Ichigo and Shiro five years ago when they were less of the cocky nuisances they were now and more like cornered animals trying to make the best choices to survive.
He was still an ass at heart. He still spoke the language of rude bastard down to the last syllable. He still didn't have the definition of tact in his mental dictionary.
But for some retardedly inexplicable reason, he didn't want to leave this guy, Ulqui-something or other, alone. It just didn't sit well with a bit beneath the skinny bastard's tight grip, he opened his mouth no doubt ready to speak his native jackass language.
"Hey-"
He never got the chance to finish the unformed question in his head.
Because at that precise moment, a husky voice asked worriedly, "Grimm?"
Both the fighters jerked slightly, Grimmjow more prominently than the one sitting on him as he craned his neck a bit to see Ichigo glancing uncertaintly between them, what looked like a pharmaceutical bag in his hand. Shiro's boy toy probably gave them a little freebie for Nel. Nice. He would have felt a bit more thankful if he wasn't currently more focused on Ichigo's albino twin who, in contrast to Ichigo's erratic eye movements, had fixed his golden gaze on the hand on his throat with an eerily blank expression.
Oh shit, he knew that look.
That was Shiro's 'I'm about to go ape-shit crazy and I ain't gonna calm down until the shit that pissed me off is dead' expression.
Usually, that look only appeared when Ichigo was in trouble but apparently Grimmjow fell under the albino's overly protective umbrella as well. He appreciated the sentiment. Kind of. A teeny bit. Pissed him off a bit but he knew his friend only meant well. He really did. But the last thing he needed was Shiro attacking people over a stupid misunderstanding which actually happened a lot more frequently than they really should be. And by the damn gods he didn't need someone else to protect his wounded ego.
Grimmjow glared at the extremely pensive albino. "Don't Shiro."
Ichigo was now casting his twin wary glances as well as he said carefully, "Um Grimm, this... what are you-?"
A lilted growl spilled from Shiro's pale lips, cutting off his more colorful counterpart as he hissed in a dangerous, malevolent snarl, "Let 'im go ghosty."
For a moment, no one moved. Grimmjow was almost worried that if he breathed, the albino would snap. Ichigo was there but something told him that if the emerald-eyed man didn't let go, he would be facing off against both twins. Ichigo was just as, if not even more so, fiercely protective of those he liked and his fighting skills were seriously no joke. Combined with Shiro's prowess, they were absolute monsters and could probably take someone of even Zaraki's caliber down with little to no effort with the right provocations. Him being in what looked like a deadly situation apparently counted as one of those little 'provocations.'
The hand around his throat seemed to be frozen or at least turned into stone. Pale fingers didn't even so much as twitch. He had a distinct feeling his opponent was also handling the situation very delicately. He probably sensed that neither twin was really calm at the moment despite their apparent control over themselves. They were all animals in some way or another, strong and proud beasts with highly alert of senses of what the others were capable of and throwing them all in a situation like this was pretty much begging for disaster unless someone caved in.
And then slowly, Ulqui-whatever-the-rest-of-his-name-was relinquished his grip on his neck. With a wariness that resembled someone trying not to startle already agitated beasts, the raven-haired man backed off of him and moved away.
Instantly, Ichigo was at his side, long fingers lightly touching him and checking for any life-threatening injuries, the bag of medicine carefully set on the ground despite his rush to aid him. Though he detested being babied by his friend, Grimmjow knew better than to argue- it was rare for him to lose to anyone and even rarer for him to be put in a situation that looked like he was about to get killed.
If there was one thing he knew that frightened the normally immovable twins, it was the possibility of losing him to something beyond their control.
And if he was perfectly honest, it stroked his ego to have Ichigo's hands running all over his body. That was probably the leftover adrenaline speaking but still, he could appreciate a little service after getting his ass totally handed to him.
Grimmjow then glanced warily at where the two palest of them all were still watching each other, both men seeming to understand that the other was strong but not quite willing to back off. Grimmjow now knew the emerald-eyed man was a skilled fighter but he had never seen Shiro lose nor had he ever really seen the albino's true fighting strength since for some reason, he always seemed to be holding back whenever they sparred.
Well damn. He knew he had been hoping for a fight but this wasn't what he had had in mind exactly. His somewhat happy feeling dampened to sullen and just a bit pissed off.
He had just found someone worth fighting with and he'd be damned if he let Shiro take away this golden opportunity that had presented itself to him. Strong fighters that could take him down like the pale raven-haired man were extraordinarily hard to come by and there was no way in hell he was letting that go.
Hissing slightly when Ichigo prodded his bruised shoulder, he gave the concerned ginger a reassuring smirk before directing his attention back at the two pale pensive fighters.
"Oi, Shiro."
Carefully blank golden pupils flicked in his direction before zeroing in on his former target again.
"What Blue?"
Scowling at the dismissive actions of the albino, Grimmjow growled warningly, "I'll be pissed as fuck if you take my prey. I haven't been able to let loose like that in ages." Shiro cast another sparse glance at him before looking away again. "That didn' look like playin' Grimm." His lilted voice took on a colder tone, resembling a turbulent river of ice rather than its usual playful watery one as he snarled, "This bastard looked like he was a hair away from killin' ya."
Considering Zaraki looked like he was perpetually a hair's breath away from killing anybody, Grimmjow didn't see how that mattered. But then again, Ulqui (he finally gave up trying to recall the rest of his name) was a suspicious stranger that had been absent for so long after watching him for several consecutive days and when he had finally returned, he looked like he was going to snap his neck.
Yeah, ok. Maybe goading Ulqui into killing him when they were in such near vicinity of the fighting area where the twins frequented wasn't such a smart idea. But still...
"I egged him on Shiro so calm the fuck down. Ulqui's my new sparring buddy so don't you dare go fucking batshit crazy homicidal on me."
His words garnered several responses.
"He's your what?!" Shiro demanded in disbelief, ever the one to have the most normal reaction in a situation despite being the least mentally stable of them all. "Grimm, sparring usually doesn't equal trying to kill each other." And there was Ichigo's bizarre focus on the semantics of things. It was sometimes hard to say whether Ichigo was the most normal or the most eccentric of their little misfit trio. Though he had to say, Ulqui's reaction was the most amusing since a muscle in his jaw twitched and a rather obviously irritated look glinted in his emerald eyes as he uttered indignantly, "'Ulqui'?" Grimmjow just shrugged in response to all three, regretting the action a bit when it jarred his shoulder.
Warding off Ichigo's worried hands, Grimmjow stumbled to his feet, experiencing a bit of vertigo from the sudden shift in perspective from laying on his ass for so long before he ran a hand through unruly blue hair.
"Chill Snow White, I'm fine. Right Ichi?" Ichigo pursed his lips together, assessing what he had seen from Grimmjow's reactions to his prodding before he nodded a bit in agreement. "He just has a few bruises that are going to hurt like a bitch for a while and a couple scratches. But other than that, he's ok."
Shiro fixed an intense stare on his twin, searching for any evidence of lying or trying to cover up for Grimmjow's sake. They had tried that once before and it had ended in complete failure so Grimmjow didn't really know why Shiro bothered checking when he knew they weren't stupid enough to try to pull that stunt off again. He and Ichigo were pretty evenly matched in the lying department. Shiro was the one who could stab someone in front of several witnesses and still somehow convince them that it was someone else who did that.
Finally satisfied that both of them were being honest, Shiro glanced back at the silent raven-haired man. "So the two o' ya were seriously jus' playin'?" His posture grew less aggressive and that seemed to ease some of the tension in 'Ulqui's' body as the danger passed. Grimmjow scowled and grumbled heavily, "I don't 'play' but yeah. So for fuck's sake Shiro, relax." He directed his gaze to the shorter man at his side and added, "You too Ichi. If you keep gettin' worried 'bout others so much, yer gonna get hair like Snow White."
Ichigo gave him a small rueful smile as Shiro complained indignantly about the princess nickname. The rest of the tension seemed to drain away at the familiar antics between them and Grimmjow was glad that the twins were back to relatively normal. He rarely had to deal with both of them in such a dangerous state of rage and he had no desire to go through it again. Heaven or hell help him, he hated having to play peacemaker. That was Ichigo's job and he was much better at it than he was.
Looking back at where Ulqui was, Grimmjow was pretty impressed the pale man had stayed after facing Shiro at level thirteen rage on his pissed-o-meter. Their eyes locked again and Grimmjow found himself fully appreciating the actual clarity of the emerald orbs that his pitiful imagination didn't do any justice for. Ulqui was a looker, he had to give him that.
So caught up in their mini staring match, both failed to notice the twins glancing between them, identical amusement and interest on their faces. Shiro, as per usual, was the one who ruined the moment. "Alright, I'm curious. Were the two o' ya jus' super pissed off at each other or was that some really aggressive foreplay fer some rough sex?"
Ichigo choked back a horrified, "Shiro!" while Grimmjow felt a vein twitch.
Fuck. Injuries or no, he was going to kill the albino bastard.
If Ulquiorra had been put off by the insufferable blunette's atrocious mutilation of his name or by the penetrating blue that had pierced his very core from their staring match, it was nothing compared to the feeling he felt at the albino's words. And he had thought Nnoitra was the worst fool with anything concerning even the slightest bit of discretion.
But more than anything, he was caught off guard by the sudden switch in demeanor towards him.
He was still very wary of the albino. That display of intimidation was not one picked up by rough housing with other thugs. There had been an intense promise of death that was far more befitting of someone well versed in the art of killing and it set him on edge. It was marginally relieving to see that boiling fury dissipate into casual jest once more however the albino's strange behavior was not one he was going to be forgetting any time soon.
And the other...
Equally difficult, no, a far bigger enigma than his albino look-a-like. It had been so faint, so near undetectable, but there had been without a doubt a hint of lethal danger that had set off more alarms in his head than the albino's outwardly aggressive stance. He vaguely wondered where the blunette had met such truly unusual and unreadable individuals and for the briefest of moments, he felt something akin to concern. That particular feeling was instantly squished and rejected from his system as soon as it had come.
He had to remind himself that it mattered little to him who the street fighter chose to associate with and that the concern he had felt was for the sake of his lord. If two unpredictable variables such as the twins were so free to do whatever they pleased, they could possibly become a danger to Aizen-sama. If they became free-lance killers or were picked up by an opposing organization, they would be a very hazardous threat and that was unacceptable.
Yes, his concerns had nothing to do with the blue haired man's safety at all.
Reassured that his priorities were still right, Ulquiorra settled for the most diplomatic way to end things on relatively peaceful terms. If he wanted answers, he would need to get the three fighters to have some amount of trust in him and a tactful retreat in this instance would be the most beneficial. Ashen face devoid of emotion as per usual, Ulquiorra stated quietly, "I apologize. I allowed myself to lose control in the heat of the moment and behaved in a most barbaric manner. I did not intend to let things get so out of hand."
That last part was a bit of a lie- he knew he had been dead set on ending the street fighter's life before they started fighting and he knew the blunette had seen the deadly bloodlust directed at him. He was taking a gamble and the reliability of his words were now largely dependent on whether his latest interest agreed.
He was not disappointed.
"See? Told ya he blew it when I antagonized him." The twins looked at the two and then glanced at each other, some strange silent communication occurring between them privy to no one but themselves before Ichigo smiled wanly and said, "It's okay... just don't let it happen again." Shiro tilted his head in agreement with what his twin said and Ulquiorra assumed it was safe to say the situation had been dealt with accordingly in the best manner possible.
However, he was unsure about whether his presence would be welcome anymore or if he would have to start using some more... discreet methods to obtain information. Fortunately, his dilemma was solved in three simple words.
"You coming back?"
Gazing at the face of the owner of that deep, throaty voice, Ulquiorra didn't even bother to question the wisdom behind his decision to allow the blunette to continue breathing. It had become clear those few minutes before the twins had arrived that he did not have the necessary conviction or desire to kill this man. But such a mindset would hold only until his curiosity had been sated and if the man continued to pose no threat to his lord.
He now knew he had the strength to overpower the much bulkier fighter should things come to that and so long as his friends were absent or incapable of attacking him simultaneously, he was quite confident that he could subdue them as well.
But for now, he would continue this charade of friendliness.
With a small inclination of his head, Ulquiorra replied evenly, "Yes."
In the future, he would look back upon this moment and realize that perhaps this was the beginning where his loyalties began to diverge and when his black and white world illuminated by his lord began to get painted over with a glorious, deep blue.
A/N: *Sigh.* I was having difficulties with this chapter but I can only read it so many times before I try to strangle something. Apologies if it seems too choppy and fast-paced.
I meant to do this after I first published the story since it's a habit I feel is only an obvious obligation from a writer to her readers/reviewers for providing their support. I would include the names of those who have favorites this story but I have no idea how to find out that sort of thing ._. Anyhoo, here we go~
Aha! Never mind, the magnificent me has found where I can find favorite-ers~
I'm so happy that ArtisanDreamCatcher, Jules Mordecai, ShiroMoon, inominatenoname, junjouLYN, Blackcatlover1, Moy-kun, PsychedelicJet64, Quietwolfgirl, Saya and Hagi together 4 ever, Shiro6789, bloodyhunter, code ninjahinja, and mslunarissa favorites this story and I hope it's living up to your expectations!
And many, many thanks to junjouLYN, Nazrita, ShiroMoon, Jules Mordecai, awesomehatyougotthere, inominatenoname, amariys, ArtisanDreamCatcher, Guest, Afro-bunny, and ablueberrynight! Your comments were wonderful boosters for my confidence about writing a fic centered around characters I haven't really written about. Muchas gracias and I hope to hear from you all as well as new reviewers in the future~
