A/N: WARNING: VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY, STRONGLY ADVISED. MORBID HUMOUR WAS EXPLICITLY USED. IF EASILY OFFENDED, I SUGGEST YOU SKIP THIS CHAPTER. NO OFFENCE IS MEANT TO ANYONE. Thank you for those who have PM'd me to hurry up and update. I know. I need to get my ass in gear. Because we all want Grimmjow to get his ass in gear and grab Ulquiorra and just throw him— well. Um. PMs and reviews are heavily appreciated. Cheers.
"This was your big plan? Act like a bitchy thirteen year old girl on her period, order the five most expensive dishes, wrap four of them up to take home, and you think that I'm going to… give a shit?" Grimmjow's mouth peeled up into a dangerous, psychotic grin. "I have more money than you could spend in a lifetime, sunshine. Go ahead and order five more."
Ulquiorra shrugs one shoulder blandly, and continues to pick at the expensive steak before him. Money won't turn him off. What on this fucking boring world will? He contemplates the things that turn him off on a date. Not that he's ever really had any. Things that annoy him; when they come on too strong, when they smell ghastly, when they talk about stupid shit I really would never give a fuck about—Now there's an idea. Verbal diarrhea about cats. That will surely send him flying out the door as if he had the runs himself. Ulquiorra's eyes flick up to meet Grimmjow's. His tongue glides across his pale lips in preparation. The wine has already made him slightly inebriated.
"Here we go," Grimmjow mutters under his breath, smirking at Ulquiorra's resolute gaze.
Ulquiorra ignored his cocky little comment, and began in the same monotone, depressed, and emotionless voice. "I love cats. I have a cat. My cat is named Pantera." Most men hate cats. If I were to repeat the word 'cats' enough, he will eventually snap. "He's a great cat; four years old. That's how long I have had him…" Silence washed over them. It was quite uncomfortable. Ulquiorra really didn't have anything to say. What else do men dislike? "I love romance movies, I love…" What's a book every man hates? What's that stupid, ridiculous vampire book? "The book Moonlight, I love long walks on the beach and I hate every sport ever played on Earth." Most men love sports.
Grimmjow's lips peel into an even wider smirk, flashing some of his brilliantly white teeth. Apparently none of the intimidating and annoying comments were getting anywhere.
Weirding him out may be the only option. "I sometimes wear dresses on Tuesdays and Thursdays, especially when I watch the children walk home from school. I love kids. Sometimes I even have sexual fantasies involving them and their little Hot Wheels backpacks."
A couple and their child, also sharing Private room A, turn and narrow their eyes at Ulquiorra's back, unsure of what they heard. They convinced themselves that they had heard the boy wrong, and turned around. However; their pace of eating sped up rapidly, in fear of the sexual predator sitting at the table across the room. Little did they know, Ulquiorra was just desperately trying to rid himself of this sexual tyrant; Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.
His face turns a deep red in frustration. "The reason I want to become a surgeon is so I can legally cut into bodies. Not for the money, or for the satisfaction of being a hero. I just like to put my hands inside of bodies!" Ulquiorra's temper was beginning to flame. His whispers became coated in hatred and anxiety as he leaned forward into the table.
However, Grimmjow remained calm. His unwavering grin was still plastered on his gorgeous face. His teal hair shimmers in the dim lighting, and his eyes speculate every inch of him. "I'm glad we have so much in common."
Ulquiorra leans back in his chair in disbelief. After all he had just said… nothing freaked him out. Hell, the things that had come flying out of his own mouth… creeped him out.
"But… I must disagree with you on one thing." Grimmjow leans forward this time, putting his hands on the table, beside his plate of pasta. "I like being a surgeon because of the money. And I am very good with my hands." He stretches out his long, pristine hands. "It's all in the fingers though. They're steady… and agile."
Here it comes, Ulquiorra thought hopelessly as Grimmjow's mouth curled into a sneer.
"How many do you want inside you tonight, doll face? Pick your number."
Ulquiorra remains expressionless. All he wants is a reaction. Just remain calm. If he doesn't get his reaction, he will get bored and leave.
Finally, the couple and their child leave, casting nervous glances back at Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's table.
"The book was called 'Twilight', by the way. Not Moonlight."
Ulquiorra rolls his eyes and picks up his wine. His eyes narrow before he sips it.
"Don't worry; I didn't slip anything in there. Yet." Grimmjow sniggers as he sips his own water.
"Let's have a bet." Ulquiorra stares at Grimmjow coolly, cocking his head to one side. "If I win, you will treat me like a regular intern. With perks."
Grimmjow's smirk falters. "Perks? What kind of perks?"
"I get all the surgeries when I want them. And no more stupid boring assignments, and harassment of any form. Don't even talk to me unless it's about work."
"If I win, you go on nine more dates with me." He replies, and then smirks playfully. "And the sexiest lap dance a man could ever have."
"I would rather sleep in trash for a week, than even touch a bastard like you." Ulquiorra mumbles harshly, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Fine. Just the dates then." Grimmjow growls, clearly disappointed. "It'll be a drinking game. We'll take shots and walk in a straight line. And when someone is too inebriated to walk, then they lose."
Ulquiorra's lip twitched upwards. I have just the idea on how to win. "Deal."
They both sign a napkin to assure each other that they wouldn't go back on the agreement.
Ulquiorra stands rigidly, throwing his napkin on the table. "I'm going to the bathroom." He announces to Grimmjow, sidestepping away from his chair.
"Going to change your tampon?" He sniggers bitterly, resting his arm on his hand, pulling out his cell phone with the other.
"Yes," Ulquiorra retorts, expressionless and unimpressed. "Happen to have a dollar-twenty-five?"
Grimmjow chuckles and continues texting, possibly caught up in some other booty-call that was probably going to occur late this night.
Ulquiorra didn't care. In fact, he didn't care so much, that he just continued on his way towards the heavily populated restaurant to the bar. Yes. To the bar. Ulquiorra did have a plan. A strategy which insured his safety. A light weight like himself going up against the great Grimmjow? How ridiculous. Obviously he would lose. Unless…
Unless. Such a bleak word. Yet a word with many possibilities with hundreds of different outcomes. And all those outcomes? They would be in Ulquiorra's favour. How, you may ask. Well… A little white lie may help. As long as a big, hefty tip to the bar to carry out his mischievous plan. Ulquiorra, as devious and honest as he is; made sure to leave out from the rules that you are allowed to cheat.
He stops in front of the bar, tapping his fingernails impatiently.
A brunette male glides over to him, polishing a shot glass. "Can I help you with anything tonight, sir?"
Ulquiorra read his name tag, 'Henry'. "I think you can, Henry." Ulquiorra mumbles silently, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a wallet. "I think you can help me, if I help you."
Henry takes the money and slides it into his pocket. "I'm your man. What can I do for you?" His smile spreads eagerly, awaiting his order. Like a good working class male. Ulquiorra purrs, obviously satisfied by the sudden turn of events. His odds of winning against that punk ass Grimmjow have soared through the roof by now.
"I am having alcoholic shots with the world's largest, most annoying piece of trash. We are having… a little bet, you could call it."
The man narrowed his eyes and nodded. "So it'd be in my best interest if I…?" He trails off, letting Ulquiorra fill in his command.
"If you gave us different coloured glasses. And… put water in the green one, instead of alcohol? And why don't you go ahead and make the other one doubles." Ulquiorra adds with a hint of confidence. This is why Ulquiorra Schiffer should not drink. He gets cocky, he says random, morbid things that easily disturb ninety-eight percent of society, and he also falls asleep. In random men's beds, apparently.
"Alright, I'll do my best," Henry chirps cheerfully, pulling out a blue shot glass.
Ulquiorra turns to leave, but swivels again, taking a mint candy and shoving it in his pocket. As he re-enters Private room A, Grimmjow has his phone put away, and a grin waiting for his return. He sits down slowly, noticing their plates were gone. He gazes at the emptiness of the black table.
"If you weren't done with it, I'm sure your four other meals can satisfy you." Grimmjow hums teasingly, just as the first round comes.
The waitress sets down the glasses in front of them with a smile.
Ulquiorra quickly snatches the green glass and swigs it down. He was satisfied… until he felt the uncomfortable burn of strong alcohol. A cold, creepy feeling crawls up his back. His eyes widen as he stares at the glass. It was green. It was the colour he had specifically told Henry…
"Something wrong?" Grimmjow asks, tipping his glass back and standing up, walking perfectly straight.
Ulquiorra also strides in a straight line. But the foreboding feeling was lingering. His plan… it was fool proof. But that idiot… Of course. The Laws of the Universe will obviously prove that anything that can go wrong on this date will go wrong.
As the second round enters, Ulquiorra lunges for the green glass again, draining it dry. Still the same strong alcohol. Fuck.
The third round, Ulquiorra had an idea. Grimmjow looked far too pleased with himself to just enter this stupid bet without a plan. Instead of grabbing the green glass, he swipes the blue one from Grimmjow's grasp.
The burn in his mouth proves him wrong again. Wrong, wrong, and wrong. Ulquiorra lays his head on the table before standing and walking in a semi-straight line.
He was beginning to feel it. And no matter what he did, he knew he was going to go down first. He may go down swinging, but he was definitely going to lose. Grimmjow had self-control. He did not react at all. But Ulquiorra knew he was drinking…
By the tenth round, Ulquiorra could hardly stand. Those many glasses of wine were not doing him any justice.
"Alright, darling," Grimmjow purrs sarcastically to Ulquiorra, dragging him from his seat, and out of the room. "I think we've had enough fun for one night. Unless you wanted me to come back to your place. Because if you added a little 'me' to your life, I don't think you'd ever be bored again."
Ulquiorra's vision was completely distorted. People's faces swirled, and his stomach lurched at every movement. "Why aren't you drunk?" He slurs, sloppily falling into the back seat of Grimmjow's car.
Grimmjow chuckles, "In the rules, you never said that cheating was not allowed." Grimmjow pulls out of the parking lot, driving as sober as ever. "Oh, and you're never getting that tip from Henry back."
Ulquiorra's face drains of colour. Fuck.