I know this is a lot longer than the other one-shots, but I don't think I'll get many complaints about it. I really liked this one, I think it's one of my favorites. My favorite crack pairing comes back :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach...but I wish I did.

It's your birthday today.

I sit here, in my blank white room, laying on a bed that is anything but comfortable, thinking about the day I gave you a birthday, and I remember something.

You told me that you never started counting days until you'd met me.

It was the exact opposite for me, Rangiku. I stopped counting, and simply focused on living when I met you. Your birthday marks a special day for me as well.

The day I met you, tired and hungry on that dirt road, was the day my life really began. I had a purpose, a reason to come home again. I felt like I didn't need anything in the world—anything, except you.

It doesn't take me long to realize I can't sit in my room and do nothing, not today.

Today is going to be the hardest day of them all.

I get up, sliding my legs off the bed first then onto the floor. It's more effort than it usually is.

I had declined Aizen's offer to play with the hallways today and I hope, as I leave my room, that they haven't let someone like Wonderwice or Nnoitra take control of them. Wonderwice would simply have no clue what he's doing, and Nnoitra would shift the pathways constantly so no one would ever get out. He really is a sick creature, and far to chauvinistic for my tastes.

His rope with Aizen has been short ever since he forced Nel Tu from Las Noches. I don't know if Aizen was ever really okay with losing such a powerful warrior over Nnoitra's petty battle.

Thankfully I find my way out of the castle main just fine. I have a destination by the time I reach the end of the main corridor, and slip through a hidden door, climbing the steps it reveals with ease. The staircase is long, but I don't mind. The monotonous walk is a break from the rest of the monotony here.

I don't understand why Aizen insists on having meetings everyday with the Espada. They only discuss the same things: the state of the Hougyoku, the state of the prisoner Inoue Orihime, the amount of preparation Soul Society now has… really, all of that can't change all that much in twenty-four hours, but Aizen insists on the meetings.

And since Aizen's the big boss, we all listen.

I reach the top of the staircase and stroke a single finger across the door at the end of the stairs. It quivers for a moment before it recognizes my reiatsu, and then it slides silently open. Aizen likes to keep a tight leash on his subordinates here. Only a select few of us are allowed in certain areas, the large, rooftop balcony I now stand on being one of them.

It doesn't take me long to notice I'm not the only one seeking refuge up here.

Tucking my hands into the sleeves of my stark white robes, placing my customary smiling mask on, I walk silently over to the white-clad figure draped along the waist high wall that lines the balcony.

Everything about his posture is feline. His back is against a portion of the tower that rises from the castle below, he looks as if he's half-laying, half-sitting, with one knee drawn up to his chest. The other leg hangs off the side of the wall, dropping down into the air below. One arm—his new arm—rests on top of his raised knee. He looks relaxed, almost lazy, but I know every muscle is taut, ready to spring into action at even a hint of a threat or a battle.

Positively feline.

Grimmjow lets me get within ten feet of him before he growls at me. It's a low, rumbling thunder, so unlike the seductive purr of your hellcat.

"Oh," I croon, "aren' we th' cranky kitty today."

I know that will annoy him.

He turns his head to face me, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Power radiates from him, not that it fazes me, but it's there, a constant pressure that tickles my skin.

"'The hell you want, Fox-Face?"

Grimmjow's temper has been rather short lately. Shorter than usual—which is saying a lot.

I think it was maybe four days ago, during one of our ridiculous daily meetings, when we all felt it. A huge surge of reiatsu no one had been expecting—even Aizen paused mid-sentence. Slowly, as the reiatsu faded, Nnoitra began to snicker.

Aizen had raised his eyebrows. "What, may I ask, is so amusing, Nnoitra?"

Nnoitra smirked. "Surely you felt that, Aizen-sama. It was our dearly departed Nel Tu." He snickered again, "Maybe she was eaten by something." He sounded hopeful.

Before Aizen could respond to the off-color, though typical, comment, Grimmjow had risen from his seat. His fists were shaking and we could all feel the harsh, twisting reiatsu he emanated. I don't think I'd ever seen him look so angry. My grin slipped off my face as he slowly brought his eyes up to Nnoitra's face.

"You're a fuckin' bastard, you know that?" he growled, the air around him crackling.

Nnoitra just laughed—which is when, with movements so quick they were hard for even me to track—Grimmjow took his cup of tea and threw it's contents across the table, effectively drenching Nnoitra.

"Grimmjow," Aizen's low voice said. Nnoitra had been about to stand as well, prepared to take down the aqua-haired arrancar across from him, but he stopped when Aizen spoke. The savage grin on his face said he thought that Grimmjow was going to get punished again.

Grimmjow turned his murderous gaze to the man at the head of the table. There was fear in his eyes now though as well; he remembered what had happened last time he'd angered Aizen.

Much to everyone's surprise—and my amusement—Aizen smiled slowly. "Please, sit back down."

Grimmjow did slowly, and he quickly replaced the look of surprise that had appeared on his face with his typical scowl.

"Nnoitra," Aizen said next, his gaze sliding over to the tea-drenched espada, his tone steely. "Go take care of yourself."

Nnoitra was, most effectively, dismissed.

"It's nothing Aizen-sama, I can—"

"Now."

Nnoitra left.

Grimmjow had been in an awful temper ever since. Not that I blame him, really. I don't thin even I can fathom how angry I'd be if someone did to you what Nnoitra did to Nel Tu.

I feel like it would involve a lot of blood.

Grimmjow most definitely wants blood, but he's been strictly forbidden to get it.

His eyes watch me, his head tilted back almost lazily. But his eyes are shrewd, as only cat eyes can be.

"Just comin' ta' enjoy the fresh air," I tell him, continuing to smile.

"Tch," he scoffs, turning his head back to face the sprawling white sands of Hueco Mundo.

I feel like I have a pretty good idea as to what he is doing out here.

"Lookin' for Nel Tu-sama?" I ask.

His posture stiffens immediately at that, and I can practically feel his claws at my throat as the air thickens with his reiatsu. Clearly, I am right.

It occurs to me now, up on a balcony in this white, sand filled hell, that Grimmjow and I are quite similar.

Not in the ways of attitude or actions; Grimmjow is the most violent, openly emotional, and rash being I've ever known. I like to think I make my decisions carefully and precisely, hiding every emotion that runs through my body behind my grin.

I am thinking more along the lines of situation.

"Why don' ya go'n get her?" I ask him. He doesn't look at me, so I continue. "Or go wit' her, I won't tell."

Both were things I wanted to do desperately. Ever since I'd arrive here, I'd dreamt of slipping off through the garganta, back to Seireitei, back to you… I know I'd never make it, but it was nice to dream.

Grimmjow looks at me then, and for once his face is utterly emotionless. I know I've surprised him. There is a hint of mistrust in his eyes though, which doesn't surprise me.

Really, I don't think I've ever given anyone in my life—even you, Rangiku—reason to trust me.

"What do you want, Ichimaru," he asks again, his voice less of a growl and more a resigned sigh.

I shrug. "Not'in. I told ya, jus' the fresh air."

He stares at me for some time, I can feel his gaze sliding over me like liquid. He tries to figure out my intentions, the hidden agenda he thinks I have.

Really, I have no goal in mind with him, other than to just annoy him.

If there is anything to keep my mind from you and the day we met, it is the temperamental feline before me. I know I can keep him at bay if he decides to lash out at me.

"I don't believe you," he says after a moment.

"Why should ya'?" I ask.

I spoke before I'd realized it, further proof I am falling apart in this wasteland. My tone was almost bitter. Very rarely do I let emotion show through my voice—it happens less often than emotion showing on my face.

Grimmjow's eyes snap back to me. He's noticed the slip up in my façade.

He grins, slowly, his sharp teeth glinting. I immediately replace my grin, trying to appear nonchalant, but he keeps smiling, and it's not really a kind smile either.

"You're not as good a liar as you think you are," he says after a moment, his grin still sharp.

This, I knew. I'd been slipping out of my mask more and more as the days dragged on.

It only figures Grimmjow would be the one to figure it out. He really is brighter than he gets credit for.

"What're you really doin' up here, Fox-Face?"

I stare at him, weighing a variety of responses on my tongue. After some time, I settle on one: the truth.

"The same thing yer' doin'," I reply quietly. "Wishin' I could go ta' her."

Grimmjow isn't quite sure what to make of that.

I don't think he expected any reply from me, let alone one that was so obviously the truth. I slide my eyes open, my ice-blue meeting his turquoise, and slowly, we seem to size each other up.

There is no expression on his face as he tries to read me. It not that surprising, it's something only you have ever been able to do.

He doesn't ask me about you, who you are or anything like that. He just stares. I think he was finding it strange we had more in common than we'd originally thought, as well.

Eventually he sighs, an uncharacteristic action, and turns his head back to the white sand. We sit in silence. I have no idea what is running through the mind of the sexta espada, but my own is a jumble of mixed emotions and blaring warnings that I was showing Grimmjow too much of the truth.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" he says after what has to have been a few minutes.

I open my eyes once more, staring at the back of his blue-haired head. Slowly, I smile.

It's a sad, melancholy smile that has been finding it's way onto my face more and more these days.

"Like nothin' I've ever known."

We don't say anything else after that. We stand in what could almost be called a companionable silence.

I start to count the stars in the sky, and I realize I have a confession to make, Rangiku:

I've started counting the days again.

Please reivew!!! I know Grimm was a little OC, but I get the feeling he's pretty complex too, with his weird sense of honor and stuff (y'know, when he brings 'Hime to heal Ichigo before they fight in Hueco Mundo... whatever happened to Grimm anyways? He just sort of got pwnd and then disappeared... poor guy...).

If you read 'Lilies', check out the poll on my profile! I've just discovered the polls, and I had fun with it :)

--Luin