Chapter 3:

Mi Casa, Su Casa

Ichigo felt fear creep up his spine and bloom slowly in his chest as he continued to stare at the blue-haired man before him. Fear, not because he was afraid that Grimmjow would hurt him in any way, but because he did not understand. It was an instinctual fear.

He struggled to make himself calm; to control his breathing, to still his heart. For some reason, he knew it would calm Grimmjow down too. The man reminded him so much of a wild, caged animal. And, like an animal, he was so sensitive to those around him. Ichigo could tell as had been stitching the man up; the phenomenon fascinated him.

Never before had he met someone like Grimmjow.

Grimmjow watched, tense, as a flurry of emotions crossed the young man's face. That strange pleading feeling refused to leave. He had no idea why; maybe it was because Ichigo had been the first person in his life to show him softness, to show him benevolence; maybe it was the delicate scent that seemed to follow the boy everywhere, holding the promise of something elusive and pure that Grimmjow had never felt before. What ever the reason, he wanted desperately for Ichigo to not be afraid.

But he did not know how to show it. He did not know how to trust him.

Ichigo stepped forward and Grimmjow automatically took a step back, ducking around the couch. Ichigo continued to advance, undeterred, until he had backed the blue-haired man against the wall.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just…"

He reached his hand out, tentatively, to brush against the fighter's heavy collar. His fingers were a hair's breadth away when his breath left his lungs and he was suddenly pinned against the wall, arms trapped at his sides and Grimmjow's body pressed against him.

Grimmjow sighed, angry at his inability to control his reactions. But no one had ever found reason to be that close, other than to harm him. He held Ichigo stiffly, losing himself in that scent as the boy looked up at him with wide eyes. His hands held Ichigo's forearms to his sides, and he marveled at the fact that his fingers could wrap completely around. He could feel the boy's pulse as well; it was frantic and fast, beating like a bird's wings. Up close, he completely dwarfed the boy. Up close, was so…so frail.

"I'm not," Ichigo said, his voice low. Grimmjow started, not realizing that he had said his thoughts out loud. "You won't be able to hurt me that easily."

The young man's right arm twitched and Grimmjow forced himself to loosen his grip. His eyes narrowed to slits as Ichigo's hand travelled up and up, finally settling at the base of his throat. He shivered.

Ichigo traced the rim of the thick collar with his fingers, transfixed. It was not like a dog collar, or even one associated with sexual fetishes like he had initially considered. It was continuous all the way around Grimmjow's neck, meant not to be removed. There was the intricately engraved number six, and next to it, the word Sexta. The skin beneath was scarred, as if Grimmjow's neck had been rubbed raw and subsequently hardened to adapt to the presence of the collar.

Grimmjow looked down at Ichigo through slit eyes, waiting for the strike that never came. But Ichigo simply continued to touch him gently. His expression was oddly calm as he studied the ornament around Grimmjow's neck. He was unused to this kind of treatment. Usually, when he was grabbed by the collar, it meant that a lashing was soon to follow.

The fighter raised his own hands to rest at the base of Ichigo's neck. It was smooth and slightly tan, moving with each breath the boy took. Devoid of any scars, any marks of ownership.

"I could crush you," he growled suddenly, with no intent behind the words. He was fascinated by this boy, who was so fragile yet so fearless.

Ichigo looked up, meeting his eyes. "You won't."

"Why not?" The hands tightened, thumbs pressing at his windpipe. "What is there to stop me?"

"You won't," he repeated softly. "Trust me."

Trust me. Trust me. The boy was saying over and over again. Grimmjow had heard the word before, but had no idea what it meant. He had never really given trust before, real trust, not even to Di Roy and the others. He had kept them all at a safe distance. He had had to, to stay alive.

Yet this boy who he hardly knew was standing before him, demanding his trust. How could he be expected to give something he did not even know he had?

But to this boy…he wanted to. He wanted more than anything to trust him, and be trusted in return. If only he knew how to act and what to do.

Ichigo tried not to blush, or do anything else embarrassing, as Grimmjow's body pressed against him. Every place their bodies touched was on fire; his knees, his thighs, Grimmjow's abdomen against his chest. Even as Grimmjow threatened him, he was not afraid. Someone so warm, who looked at him with eyes so full of sadness…there was no reason for him to be afraid.

His reasoning made no sense, even to him, and yet he felt it.

This is what I am, the blue-haired man had said. What did that mean?

"Grimmjow," he murmured. "What are you?"

The man let his hands drop from Ichigo's neck; they fell to his sides as he backed away, watching the young man with a guarded expression as he sagged a little and came away from the wall.

"I am a vessel for killing," he responded, in that same quiet tone. "I fight to serve my master." There was so much more than that, but where could he begin? How did one explain a lifetime of torture?

Ichigo felt his stomach drop to the floor at Grimmjow's words. Were all the rumors true, then? "You…you're…"

He sighed. "I was taken from my orphanage and forced to join the Espada. I was young…" Old enough to know it was wrong, yet young enough for it to be all I've ever known.

"Espada…?"

"Do you see this number?" Grimmjow turned his head, baring his neck and the number on his collar. "That is the mark of my Master, and my rank. I am the sixth out of ten."

"There are others like you?"

"There are many. But we, the Espada, are the best. Some of us have died…and I am the only one to ever escape."

The best. The best at taking the lives of others. Ichigo shivered. "You escaped…"

"Yes," Grimmjow said. "When you found me tonight…I had just broken away. If you hadn't taken me in…" he trailed off. He loathed admitting weakness, but the reality of the situation was clear.

Ichigo was terrified. Anyone would be, if they had heard what Grimmjow had just told him. He was afraid for himself, for his friends, for his life; but more than that, he was afraid for the wild, beautiful man before him. If Grimmjow was so powerful, so important that his Master felt the need to collar and mark him, then he would be pursued.

But…Ichigo didn't care. He didn't care if his world was turned upside down. Didn't care if he was in danger. No one had the right to treat another human being this way.

Not someone like Grimmjow.

He was surprised at his own conviction. He hardly knew Grimmjow. And really, the last thing he needed was more stress. But he couldn't just turn away; not when those cerulean eyes were shooting down his defenses, fathomless depths burning with ferocity and loneliness, begging for something…

In that moment, he made a decision.

"Grimmjow," he began, "There's a lot I don't know about you. And what I do know…to tell you the truth, it scares me."

The man was silent, so Ichigo continued.

"But for some reason…" he laughed. "For some reason, I just don't give a damn. I know I should be running away, but…I want you to stay. I want you to stay here for as long as you need to Grimmjow. You're safe with me."

Ichigo struggled to convince himself that his reasons for offering Grimmjow his home were entirely noble, and not because the sight of his body still caused tingles to run up his spine. He was being nice. He was showing kindness. Yes.

Grimmjow's brows came together. He was at a loss for words. Again and again, this young man surprised him. Grimmjow wondered if all people on the outside were this generous. Was it only in Las Noches that such evil as he had witnessed existed?

No…no. He had heard before, stories of war and murder and greed, conducted by people of the city and around the world. Truly kind people, he supposed, must be rare. And he had found one so easily.

Ichigo.

The young man ran his fingers through his hair. "…I'll take that silence as an acceptance. Come on, I'll show you where you can sleep tonight."

Grimmjow stretched out on the couch-bed (a "fold-out," Ichigo had called it), staring into the darkness and reveling in the warmth of the house and the comfort of an actual bed.

If he listened closely, he could hear Ichigo's soft breathing from down the hallway, and the chirp of crickets outside. He found himself screwing his eyes shut, waiting for this dream to end. But it did not, and he drew the soft blankets Ichigo had given him tighter around himself, wanting to enjoy the feeling for as long as possible.

Despite the boy's fearless attitude, he knew he could not stay. Aizen's men would find him. It was inevitable. And he could not put Ichigo in danger. A strange feeling of protectiveness surfaced in his mind as he thought of the young man. No; he had to go before he caused Ichigo any undue harm.

He would find a way to evade Aizen, somehow. He could live off the streets; he could steal. But Ichigo was naïve to think that they would be able to hide.

He drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets and Ichigo's sweet scent.

(A/N: Hello, everyone! I wanted to thank you all so much for all the love this story has been getting! Really, thank you. You guys can expect updates every other week.

I'll try and make future chapters longer, too.

Also, I may be changing my username soon, so don't freak out if you don't recognize it.

Hmm…I think that's it. Please continue to review; it makes my day whenever I see them! Also feel free to ask any questions you may have :)

OH. And maybe this link will work for the glasses:

http:// img75 .imageshack. us/i/m7bleachch2320304jc7 . jpg/ (Remove the spaces)

Lots of love, until next time.