Well, sorry about the delay in updates. I've been watching Sherlock and dealing with one hell of a migraine today, and I figured that that would be reason enough to spur me on and get me to actually write up this chapter. By the way, I highly encourage all of you to watch Sherlock. It's rather brilliant, and gives you the urge to speak in a cultured English accent for no apparent reason.

Summary: He couldn't believe he was doing this. How was it that he always managed to get into these awkward situations? When Shuhei, a freelance writer damaged by his past is hired to interview an up and coming author, he never in a million years would think that he would have anything in common with the guy. After all, they're complete opposites…right?

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

-;-

Grimmjow certainly hadn't expected to find this sort of scene tonight, which was for sure. What was more, however, was that of all the people in the world that he had to run into, it just had to be that same fucking kid that had turned up on his doorstep twice now.

Why him?

-;-

He was floundering in his own consciousness as he came to; staring into the most brilliant pair of cerulean eyes he'd ever seen.

Wincing as sudden stinging grabbed his attention, his own eyes were drawn to his forearms. Long, narrow gashes sliced through the flesh there, and already, he could tell that they were going to be swollen by the next day.

Panic stabbed through Shuhei's chest. What happened this time?

Instinctively, he shoved himself backwards, straight into a stone wall that jarred something else in his back. Probably more gashes.

"Go away." He snapped weakly; God, he was pathetic. He was going to hyperventilate in this place, in front of- wait. Flicking his gaze back to the cerulean eyes that were staring at him warily, he moved his attention across the lean frame that was now towering over him.

It was none other than Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the very same male that seemed hell bent on avoiding him.

Great. Just fucking great. Of all the people to find him while he was like this. With all of his walls and barriers down, unable to even comprehend the situation that he found himself in yet again.

There was a heavy sigh; no doubt he'd been arguing or something with Shuhei, and then there was a hand on his shoulder. Automatically, he cringed away from the touch, eyes settling on the body that was mere feet away from him. Which he then decided left him two options; either Grimmjow had killed the man lying there, or he had. Either was very possible, at this point.

"Look. Kid. I don't give a fuck what kind of shit you're into. But you're not looking so good."

"No shit. Screw off." Shuhei rasped, fighting for control over himself. He was spiralling into a place that he really didn't want to be stuck in; trapped with petty emotions that would get him nowhere. They never had before, anyway.

"Are you always this charming?"

"Are you always such a pain in the ass?" he snarked back, trying to haul himself to his feet with no success. His legs were stubbornly refusing to cooperate with what he wanted at the moment, and that particular want happened to be to get away from this asshole.

"Apparently." Grimmjow rolled his eyes, considering his options at the moment. He could just leave the kid here and let him sort whatever problems he had out, or…

Bending down, the blunette easily scooped Shuhei's slim frame up into his arms bridal style and began walking off, ignoring the other male's protests.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put me down!"

Grimmjow flexed his arms automatically, tightening around the slight male's ribs and thighs. Shuhei hissed as fading bruises protested against the pressure, and he wriggled to try and get out of the grasp he found himself in. The blunette noticed, but said nothing, instead relaxing his grip ever so slightly. Almost immediately, he felt the darker haired male relax in his grip the tiniest bit.

Shuhei felt the aftermath of the usual emotional drain begin to hit several minutes later in Grimmjow's arms, and every nerve in his body tensed up as nausea hit. He felt feverish, unable to take a breath in without swallowing the little bile he could feel rising in the back of his throat.

"Please…put me down." He murmured, weakly pushing at Grimmjow's chest.

"You gonna be sick?" came the calm reply.

"Most likely."

Unexpectedly, Shuhei found himself being carried over to a trash can leaning against the side of the alley wall, and as soon as he was put on his feet, he was heaving into the bin. There was a hand loosely wrapped around his waist, something that he was grateful for. Otherwise, his legs would most likely have given out on him and sent his head right into the trash can.

In the meantime, Grimmjow looked away. He knew that most people highly disliked being watched or even accompanied while they threw up their lunches, and now was not an exception; though it was technically his own fault that he found himself in this situation. He'd been the one to take the kid with him instead of leaving him back in the alley. And he still didn't even know why he did it; it was like he'd been possessed for a split second. Then again, being a former gang member, it was probably just that instinct to protect his comrades that had made him do it.

"Thanks." The kid finally muttered, straightening up for a long moment before collapsing again like a puppet with its strings cut.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Grimmjow snorted, grabbing the male and throwing him over his shoulder.