Started March 11th.
Completed March 19th.
Authoress: Desperatembrace
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. If I did, Grimmjow would have Ichigo bent over many different surfaces throughout the series. So, ha.
Warning:
Violence
Alternate Universe
Language
Sexual Content
Yaoi
Chapter 1
"Doctor"
The apparent reality didn't really set in until Grimmjow had pulled up in front of the upscale apartment complex and leaned his neck forward at an awkward angle to see the windows of his penthouse apartment.
Never before had he thought of the amazing apartment being such a pain in the ass. He was starting to wish that he had taken up one of the openings on the lower floors.
It would, after all, make it a hell of a lot easier to transport a limp body into his apartment.
The blue-haired man sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to the bleeding man next to him. The guy was still unconscious, but now it looked as if he was having a nightmare, his head snapping to the side every so often with his brow furrowed in pain.
He turned the key, turning off his precious car and pulled his door open quickly, slamming it behind himself. He jogged to the other side of the car, yanking the car door open and pausing for moment.
Now. How to do this...?
Well, he had the right to ponder over it. After all, it wasn't every day you see someone carrying a limp, bloody, half-naked man into their apartment complex.
People would have questions.
He sighed again, deciding to throw all precaution out the window. If anyone decided to ask questions, he'd either answer them truthfully, or bribe them to keep quiet with money.
Either worked.
He leaned into the car, putting the keys in his mouth and biting down on the metal ring. He wrapped the towel a little more securely around the man, giving him protection from the cold air outside and covered most of his skin. Since the man was only wearing jeans (that were covered in holes and slashes) and the tattered remains of a shirt, he would easily become cold. The poor guy didn't need pneumonia or hypothermia added to his no-doubt already long medical list.
He scooted his arms underneath the man's neck and knees and hefted him up bridal style.
Grimmjow backed up a few steps, careful to keep the orange-haired man's head from bumping into anything.
He lightly put his foot on the lower corner of the car door and pushed it shut, nodding lightly to himself when he heard the door latch pleasantly.
He heaved the man up to put him in a slightly more comfortable position, biting down harder on the ring of keys between his teeth.
Grimmjow made his way to the front doors, suddenly grateful for the automatic doors at the front of the building.
He walked into the front room, glancing around. Looking at the desk next to the hall entrance, he spotted a young woman with short purple-black hair. She looked up and met his eyes, standing from her seat and made her way toward him.
"Oi, Grimmjow. You're about.." She glanced at the large red numbers of the digital clock on the wall. "20 minutes later than usual."
She glanced at the large bundle in his arms and raised an eyebrow. She looked back up at Grimmjow and shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not even going to ask."
She snatched the key ring out of his mouth and twirled it on her finger. "By the looks of things, I'm guessing you want someone to go park your car in the parking lot?" She asked rhetorically, her eyes darting to the bloodied man in his arms and back to Grimmjow's face.
Grimmjow gave a gruff nod and tilted his head, silently giving her his thanks. "Yeah, Cirucci."
"I'll drop these off at your place later." She indicated the keys as he nodded.
He turned and headed for the hallway, making his way to the elevator. He kept himself from twitching when he heard Cirucci mutter the words "damned blueberry" and "rape" as he walked away.
Tch. Just fucking lovely.
The man threw his leg up, punching the 'Up' button next to the elevator with the tip of his shoe, startling the small man standing next to the elevator doors who had been patiently waiting for the elevator to arrive. Grimmjow gave a low snort and leaned most of his weight onto one foot, grumbling about elevators taking their time.
When the elevator finally dinged, the blue-haired man stepped in and raised his eyebrow questioningly at the small man previously mentioned. The man looked as if he was debating whether or not to get on the elevator, as if it were a life or death situation.
Grimmjow merely rolled his eyes and leaned to the button panel, pressing the button for his floor with his elbow. The doors slid shut, the image of the small man widening his eyes disappearing. Grimmjow shook his head.
Damned dumb-asses.
He began tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator to arrive at his floor (which was, quite literally, his floor-he had it all to himself) and glared at the small arrow above the doors of the elevator.
It was still only at the half-way mark, slowly inching its way to the opposite side. He needed it to go all the way over to the right. And it was damn well taking its time.
Finally, the arrow landed on the little notch for his floor, the elevator stopping, giving that stomach-turning feeling it always gives as a quiet ding sounded. The doors slid open, revealing a rather small but cozy hallway, with only a couple of doors.
Across from Grimmjow, a man was leaning next to an elegant door. Grimmjow stepped out of the elevator, clearly irritated. The man looked up from his spot, pulling away from his comfortable lean against the wall.
The man raised a questioning eyebrow at the rather large lump in Grimmjow's arms, irritating the blue-haired man further.
Why can't people just act like it's normal to carry a half-dead person into their home?
It sure would make things a hell of a lot less awkward.
The man in front of him swiped back his shoulder-length pink hair and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Well, this certainly is interesting."
Grimmjow had to resist the urge to kick him.
It might shake the orange-haired kid up too much, he reminded himself.
"Shut it, Szayel. Just open the damned door and let's get inside. I don't have my keys on me right now."
Szayel just chuckled, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He turned around and pulled out his own ring of keys, sliding the spare key that Grimmjow had given him into the key slot and turned, unlocking the door.
He turned the knob and pushed the door open, collecting his medical supplies next to the door as the blue-haired man brushed past him.
There was a reason why Szayel hadn't just went ahead and gone into the apartment first.
When he received the spare key from Grimmjow, the blue-haired man had specified that it was to "only be used for emergency occasions. Any other times used will result in the unprofessional castration of the trespasser."
Szayel was no fool.
Grimmjow would hold clear to his threat. There was no doubt about that.
The pink haired man followed into the luxurious apartment and clicked the door shut behind him. He kicked his shoes off quickly and headed into the living room after the blue-haired man.
Grimmjow was about to put the man down on his couch when Szayel tapped his shoulder and cleared his throat.
"I wouldn't put him down yet. It would be rather hard to work on him when there's so much dried blood."
Grimmjow let out a tired sigh before hefting the orange-haired man up comfortably. He instead made his way into the bathroom, heading straight for the shower in the dark leaving the pink-haired man behind him to turn on the lights.
Szayel flipped the switch and light flooded the bathroom.
Everything was shiny. Each tile was finely polished, the silver of the sink and shower sparkling lavishly.
Grimmjow didn't much care.
He had a maid come in every once in a while to clean up his whole apartment. It wasn't like he had the time with all the overtime work he had.
Grimmjow gently lowered the yet unnamed man onto the floor of the shower before standing up and motioning for Szayel to get back.
He reached up and flipped a switch at the base of the shower head and pulled it from its fixed spot. He pointed the head to the drain, away from the injured man, and quickly turned the knobs, fixing the water to a comfortable temperature.
The blue-haired man sighed and got to work, bringing the shower head over each dried blood patch on the young man. He quickly and carefully ran his hands over each spot, not paying full attention to any of the wounds that were hidden underneath the blood. After about 10 minutes, he had gotten almost all of it off the man's body and moved to his head.
There were many dried blood patches in the man's hair, matting the orange hair and turning it to a blackish red.
He worked his fingers through the hair, routinely pulling his fingers away from the man's scalp to gently pull out clumps.
He finally shut off the water and hooked the shower head back up. He pulled himself up from the floor and away from the shower, frowning at how his clothes were soaked. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a pile of neatly folded towels, leaving only one or two. He kept two for himself and tossed the rest at Szayel.
"Go lay out some towels on the couch. I'd be damned if that expensive piece of furniture gets fucked up over a bit of water."
The pink-haired man merely chuckled and took his leave, leaving the bathroom door open.
Grimmjow quickly unraveled one of the towels and began dabbing the orange-haired man's skin, soaking up the moisture.
He began patting him a little harder, still careful of the wounds on the man's body.
When he was deemed a little dryer than before, he leaned the man forward, his orange hair pressed against Grimmjow's shoulder.
He wrapped the slightly damp towel around the man's shoulders and then lifted him up, glancing momentarily at the floor where a puddle of water was collecting from the man's dripping jeans. He frowned for a moment before going into the living room.
Grimmjow gently placed the man on the couch, propping his head up on the leather-covered armrest.
Szayel was seated in a nearby leather chair, pulling open his kit full of medical supplies and scattering them across the coffee table.
"Well..."
Grimmjow stopped in trying to get the young man comfortable and turned around, regarding Szayel.
"I should get busy. He doesn't look in very good shape. Probably has major blood loss judging by the pasty white color of his skin."
Grimmjow had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and reply 'no shit'.
The blue-haired man moved out of the way and took up the empty leather chair. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the slim golden cat lounging underneath the coffee table. He started making clicking noises, beckoning the cat to him. The cat looked up lazily and stared for a moment before lying back down and returning to its slumber. He shook his head, turning his focus back to what was happening to the boy he had brought home.
He watched as Szayel took a flashlight and checked his eyes underneath his eyelids. The pink-haired man nodded to himself and continued, gently pressing in multiple spots on the man's torso before surveying the cuts on his chest.
He again nodded to himself, pulling out a small jar of salve and rubbing it into the cuts. He quickly twisted the jar shut and moved to observe the man's left arm. He frowned in distaste and turned to Grimmjow.
"What the hell was he doing when you found him?"
Grimmjow scowled at the memory. "He was hit on the side by an 18-wheeler. More like a graze, but it was enough to send him flying backwards."
Szayel didn't show any surprise but raised a questioning eyebrow.
The blue-haired man rolled his eyes. "It was in the center of the city."
Szayel nodded knowingly, turning back to his work. He gently prodded the injured arm, shaking his head and reaching for a rolled up bandage.
He quickly and expertly wrapped the arm, keeping it tight so that it wouldn't be easily irritated, creating a make-shift cast. Grimmjow watched him as he continued with his work.
Szayel Aporro Granz.
Grimmjow had met him during a meeting between the other branches of the company. The heads of each department at each branch were to attend. It had many employees attending, Espada Enterprise was one of the biggest companies in all of Japan, quickly making it's way to the top in the world.
Grimmjow was head of the Advertising Department of Las Noches. And, as it turned out, Szayel was head of the Medical Department of Las Noches.
They had never seen each other in their lives-even though they not only worked at the same company at the same rank and...
Happened to live one floor away from each other.
Funny how things work out, eh?
The two were kind of wary of each other at first, but soon grew to like each other. Neither protruded into the others space too much.
It all worked out great.
Grimmjow began to become anxious, switching positions in his seat every few minutes. He finally let out a long breath of air and stood up.
"I'll be right back. I gotta go get some smokes. And maybe some food for Pantera over there." He pointed at the cat sleeping underneath the coffee table.
Szayel muttered unintelligibly, assumably something along the lines of "fine. Like I need to know your every move."
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and quickly exited the room, making his way to the front door. He locked the door behind him, got in the elevator and waited for it to arrive at the ground floor. As he stared at the arrow above the door, Grimmjow vaguely wondered how many times he had been in an elevator within the past twenty-four hours.
The elevator stopped with a ding and the large mechanical doors slid open. Cirucci was standing right outside of the elevator, a surprised expression crossing her features.
"Yo, Grimmy. I was just bringing these to you." She held up his ring of keys.
Eyes narrowed, he said, "It's been an awful long time for you to park a car and only just now be getting my keys back to me..."
She chuckled nervously, tugging on a couple of strands of hair.
"What are you talking about.. ? I was just talking to someone about a problem with their door. I just got side-tracked is all..." Her eyes shifted to the side.
"You didn't try to take my car out for a drive again, did you?" He pressed on mercilessly.
Her purple hair covered her face as she stared at the floor between her feet guiltily. "No.."
He let out a sigh for the nth time that day. "Good god, woman! If you so much as put a tiny nick on my car I will have so many hits put on you that you wouldn't even know how the hell you died."
He released her from his deadly glare, stalking past her to the parking lot to find his car. When he arrived at the Porsche, he circled it twice, carefully inspecting the navy blue paint job and checking for any dents. When he saw nothing that caught his eye, he nodded appreciatively and pulled open the driver-side door, sliding in and starting the car.
A few blocks down, he entered a small corner store and went to the back, picking up a pillow-sized package of cat-food and returning to the counter at the front. He put the food down on the counter and looked up at the clerk, a young woman around the age of 19. She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Anything else you would like, sir?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just a pack of smokes." Grimmjow pointed past her to the glass case at his favorite brand. "That's it."
He pulled out a twenty from his wallet and handed it to her, shoving the change he received from her in his back pocket. He put the cigarettes in his front pocket and heaved the cat-food over his shoulder. He headed out the door without so much as a goodbye or goodnight, leaving the young clerk dismayed and discouraged.
He tossed the food into the front seat of the car, quickly pulling the door shut and turning the key in its slot. Grimmjow didn't even bother putting his seatbelt on-the apartment was only a few blocks down.
He pulled into the parking lot, quickly shuffling out of the car and pulling the bag of cat-food out. When he entered the building, he noticed that Cirucci had wisely vacated the room. He headed to the elevator yet again and pressed the 'Up' button. He stepped inside impatiently when the doors slid open and punched the button for his floor number.
When the doors slid open on his floor, however, he was a bit confused. Szayel was standing outside of his door, his arms crossed and his brow creased rather worriedly.
He stepped out of the elevator and gave the pink-haired man an unamused yet curious stare.
"What's up? Did the kid die?"
Szayel rolled his eyes. "In my care? Hardly."
He opened the door and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, toward the living room. "I'm..." He paused, irritated. "Going to need your help."
Grimmjow lifted a teasing eyebrow, striding past him and into the living room, not even looking at the man on his couch. He entered the kitchen and dumped the cat-food on the island counter in the center along with his cigarettes, pulling the change from his pockets and tossing it into a small, empty ashtray. He quickly returned to the living room. Szayel was by the orange-haired man's side already, waving his hand to Grimmjow to come over.
When he stopped next to the couch, his eyes widened slightly. The man was laying on his back still, except slightly angled to the side so that a portion of his back was visible.
From what Grimmjow could see, the guy's back was seriously torn up.
"I'm going to need you to turn him onto his stomach and hold him down while I work on him. I've already given him a numbing shot but it was only a low dosage. It was the most I'm allowed to have outside of the hospital."
Grimmjow swallowed before nodding, leaning forward and slowly rolling the man onto his stomach. He lifted his torso up a bit settling it down in the right position comfortably and then repeated the same with the lower body, being careful with the casted arm. When he was fully in place, Grimmjow took a better look at the man's back.
There were multiple slightly deep wounds and gashes all across the back, but what really took the prize was the larger cut.
It started from the top of the left shoulder, extending across the expanse of his back and ended on the man's right hip. It seemed to be a rather deep cut, too.
Szayel immediately set to work, filling all of the smaller gashes and cuts in with salve before turning his attention to the larger cut. He gently worked salve into the cut, pushing it as deeply as it could go. The man's hand had begun twitching, small grunts working their way out of chapped lips.
Szayel looked to the blue-haired man and nodded his head to the unconscious man on the couch. Grimmjow nodded back and lifted the man's torso up a bit, sliding underneath him. The man's head was laying in his lap as Grimmjow used the position to hold him down on his mid-back. His face was angled away from the back of the couch, the shuddery inhales and exhales creating heating and cooling sensations on Grimmjow's thigh.
The doctor pulled out a needle and thread for stitching, threading the string through the needle and quickly sterilizing the metal needle. He began the long process of stitching the cut up, ignoring the grunts that were slowly growing in volume and turning into weak cries.
By the time he had gotten to the end of the cut by the hip, it had already been over 20 minutes and Grimmjow was beginning to get sore from holding the man down.
Unconscious or not, the man in his lap was surprisingly strong.The man had taken to clutching Grimmjow's lower thigh harshly each time a spark of pain made its way up from the cut.
Grimmjow sighed in relief when Szayel sat back, a quiet breath making its way through his lips.
"All done."
He edged his way out from under the unconscious man as Szayel pulled out another small needle, sterilizing the tip and injecting it in the man.
"Alright. I just gave him pain reliever so it shouldn't be that bad later.."
Grimmjow stood up and stretched, popping his back and shoulders. "So what exactly was all the damage that he had?"
Szayel looked up from putting away all his medical supplies and began to tick everything off in his head.
"Broken arm, lots of major bruising. Glass embedded in his feet..." He pointed to the trashcan in which the glass pieces lay, sitting beside the couch, . "He lost a large amount of blood. He'll be extremely dizzy when he wakes up. Lots of minor cuts, one major cut," he indicated the cut that had just been stitched up, "and a large gash on the back of his head." He pointed to the bandages wound around the guy's head. "You're going to have to change bandages daily. There's the possibility of a concussion. You're going to have to wake him every 2 hours if you don't want him to end up in a coma."
"Great." Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose again and then ran his hand through his hair.
The pink-haired man stood up from his position, pulling the bag of medical supplies along with him. He headed to the door opening it and glancing over his shoulder with a frown on his face as he addressed Grimmjow.
"I'll be back every couple of days to check on him. You don't have to start the periodic waking until he himself first wakes up. Do it for the first five days. If he doesn't wake up within four days then we need to get him to the hospital and get him some more help. I may be a professional, but..." He glanced at the man on the couch. "This man is going to need a lot of help."
Szayel's frown slipped upwards into a smile. "Oh, and... I wish you luck with that boy. You're going to have a bit of a hard time with him when he wakes up."
He chuckled mischievously and disappeared out the door, clicking it shut behind him.
Grimmjow stared at the door for a moment, contemplating what the man could have meant. He turned his gaze back to the unconscious man, pausing when his eyes caught sight of the many rolls of bandages left innocently on the coffee table.
He rolled his neck quickly and picked up one of the rolls, unraveling it and turning to the man. He lifted the man's torso up a bit, gently wrapping the bandages all the way around until they ran out. He secured them quickly and lay the man back down, giving a small smile when the man didn't even stir at the movement.
Grimmjow stared at the orange-haired man for a moment, running his hand through his hair and then pausing.
He took a tentative sniff and then groaned quietly. "Damn, I need a fucking shower." He glanced at the clock and then back at the man unconscious on the couch.
He glanced back at the clock again and nodded, heading for the bathroom. He quickly stripped off his clothes as soon as the door was shut, tossing them in a small pile in the corner of the room. Stepping into the shower, he twisted the knobs to a cold-warm setting in order to keep himself moving and to lessen the chances of a prolonged shower.
Grimmjow quickly lathered up soap all over his body, rinsing it off and repeating with his hair. He stood under the shower spray for a few extra seconds to collect his thoughts and try to catch up with all that had happened in the past few hours.
He had.. rescued a man from his undoubted death.
And brought him home.
Grimmjow didn't know what to think about that.
He was usually the person who would just kind of watch the incident and then just shrug and walk off, with little chance of telling anybody on the way to his destination.
Being considerate of a person who's on the brink of death was most definitely a new thing for him.
Hell, being considerate of a person in any condition was a new thing for him.
He ran a hand through his hair, idly checking for any shampoo missed and turned the shower spray off. Grimmjow stepped out, water dripping onto the already wet tiles. He supressed a shiver, the spilled water from earlier having grown cold.
He reached underneath the sink and yanked out a towel, quickly wrapping and securing it around his waist. Heading to the door and clicking it open, he stepped into the living room with a yawn. He quickly yanked a small blanket out of the cupboard and threw it over the extensively injured man. He quickly turned up the heat, making sure that the man would stay warm. Making a turn, he pulled open his bedroom door and went over to the bed, picking up the household phone on the bedside table.
He called in to the office, giving the clerk his request for the next two weeks off on vacation leave. He was most definitely going to need it. That night, he collapsed in bed and slept in the deepest sleep that he'd had in years.
A few days passed, each day going by with Grimmjow just lazing around at home, listening to the stereo or watching t.v., occasionally running out to get a couple of groceries. Granz went in and out of the penthouse, checking on his charge and changing bandages when it required. He injected the man with liquid painkiller and who-knows-what else. The cuts were covered in salve each day, whether by Grimmjow or Szayel. At one point earlier on, Szayel had brought stiffer material to have wrapped around the injured man's arm, creating a sturdier cast.
It was really stressful taking care of an injured, unconscious man. Even harder than taking care of a certain useless, lazy, very-much demanding cat. Grimmjow was not amused. The only highlight of the first few days was the middle-aged maid walking through the door only to shriek and go running out.
Now that was amusing.
On the third night, Grimmjow took a long, hot shower, keeping his thoughts to a minimum just to enjoy the simplicity of the moment. He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed into the living room to go to the kitchen. He walked past the couch only to stop.
The couch...
The couch was empty.
It took a minute for him to wrap his thoughts around it. He could have sworn there was a person there just a little while ago...
He snapped out of his thoughts when loud purring reached his ears. He looked up only to see the object of his bewilderment sitting in the leather chair, petting Pantera, the golden cat.
Huh. Pantera usually avoids people, He vaguely thought.
The orange-haired man paused in his petting-session and looked up, receiving a displeased bite from the golden cat. He gave a rather large flinch but locked eyes with Grimmjow, unconsciously scooting back into the chair a bit.
He opened his mouth, and let out a simple word, his voice hoarse.
"Oh."
-Chapter End-
A/N: Review?