by Impervious Marr


Summary: Thieves working to their last nerves, Grimmjow and Ichigo face trials and tribulations in the form of sexy rivals and balding old men - all of that without being caught. This is the story of their improbable friendship. GrimmUlqui, AizenIchi. AU.

Warnings: Future MxM, mentions of MxM, violence, swearing, crack and stupid not-really-there humor.

A/N: My first fanfiction. TT I'm sorry if it's crap.



What a Wonderful World




Grimmjow was laughing. Too hysterically, at that, because the guards outside where already shouting at him to keep it down, and he looked like he was almost choking on his own spit. Apparently he didn't hear them (didn't acknowledge, didn't care) and Ichigo was all too happy to let him be that way. After all, the noise would be useful.

Never let it be said that he never thought of practicality before anything else. Grimmjow took another look at his face, and laughed again.

"What the fuck, man? You got caught? Dude, this is just too hilarious to live down," Grimmjow barked out loud, ignoring the repeated banging on the door for him to shut up and just die already. Ichigo tried to scowl, but he just couldn't – it eventually broke into a grin.

Maybe his friends were right. Grimmjow really was influencing him… But he couldn't really complain much. Well, it was funny.

"I guess so," Ichigo shrugged off, testing his chains and chuckling. They were old, clinking against each other with a sound close to a creaking door in a rundown shack. "So."

"Yep, so." Grimmjow gave him a lopsided grin, manic-psychotic, before sniggering at Ichigo's impassive expression. "I'm so proud, man. At least you're not in need of another anger management session anymore."

"Fuck that," Ichigo said pompously, sniffing and his nose way sky high as he tested each link for the weakest. Grimmjow laughed even more hysterically.

"That ain't the way to do it, bro! Come 'ere," he motioned, waiting for the orange-haired boy to stand beside him. Soon enough, Grimmjow was already threading their hands and arms together, letting their chains slide and grind against the rust and the metal. "Right. I shouldn't be wrong, and since these things are fucking old anyway…"

He jerked violently and pulled, causing the chains to break at their weakest link. Ichigo flinched at the force, stumbling back and trying to regain his footing.

"Whoah, easy there. See? All nice and non-rusty now. Man, I hate it when the rust gets to my skin."

Ichigo made a face. "You were always the vain shit among all of us." Ignoring Grimmjow's glare, he strode up to the door and examined it thoughtfully, all the while mocking Grimmjow's need for cleanliness. "I mean, 'Like oh my god. Look at my wrists. Gonna leave marks, now.' Boo hoo, Grimmy, boo hoo."

"So you have the guts to complain now, punk? After all I've done for ya?" Grimmjow asked incredulously, stretching his limbs behind the orange-haired male.

Ichigo sniggered. "Shut up. We have to be serious." He continued his examinations again, muttering thoughtfully before asking. "So, did you come from the left or the right?"

"Oh, I came alright," Grimmjow said mischievously, before shrugging. "I pissed off the daughter."

"Left it is. And remember, he said to be serious this time."

"Eh, his orders are fucking bullshit anyway," Grimmjow dismissed, remembering their so called leader. He was an insufferable man, always seen with a cane, hat and clogs. "Door breakable?"

"It's as old as your grandma – shit!" Ichigo yelped, swerving aside, only just avoiding the kick aimed for him. Or rather, the door. It flew a few feet away from the force of Grimmjow's kick, and Ichigo glared. "What was that for!?"

"You were too slow, man," the blue-haired man shouted, laughing maniacally as he jumped into the fray, beating the shit out of every guard in front of him, immediately round housing and dodging the men throwing themselves at him.

Ichigo stared, before rolling his eyes and kicking the hell out of the sissies trying to get at Grimmjow from behind. He couldn't blame them, really. Facing Grimmjow head on was like telling the whole world you had a suicide note and a will ready for all to see. He had incredible strength and a disposition willing to show it off – luckily he beat the need to kill out of the man a few years back.

But he never really got the fighting spirit out of him. The broken bones were nasty.Beating them up into an inch of their lives was always Grimmjow's job; Ichigo's was stalking in and getting the goods out. They were pretty much an unstoppable force – sometimes too unstoppable that even authority from the old man couldn't keep them in.

Soon enough they were finished with this part of the building and were already moving upwards. They had only a few minutes before the morons actually had any idea what the shit was happening, so they had to disappear by then. Ichigo quickly got into the mode, stripping a pair of uniforms from the unconscious bodies and throwing them over his clothes – a quick disguise.

He looked at his watch nonchalantly as Grimmjow took his own sweet time in getting dressed, before knocking the doors down with a force strong enough to alert pretty much anybody in hearing vicinity – but everybody was busy upstairs with the social event going on.

They did a dirty job – too dirty, in fact, that nobody really analyzed far enough, always assuming they were a couple of punks assaulting rich men and women by destroying their property. The distraction was good enough that the victims only notice the missing goods a few weeks after the incident happened.

They were hard and loud; unlike the others in their brotherhood of sorts, who always took it slow and steady. Maybe that was why they got along with each other than everybody else. There was always Renji – but Ichigo wasn't roommates with that guy, now, was he?

"Hey, dinner duty is yours tomorrow, isn't it?" Ichigo shouted, tripping a man trying to have a go at them as he heard the telltale screams of high-class men and women in the ballrooms; the cue for them to leave and quick. Grimmjow paused for a while, ducking for a bit as a bullet went past him. He snorted. Bodyguards quickly thought they were bodyguards as soon as they could get their hands on a gun. Ichigo made quick work of the chick, sailing past Grimmy as he thought.

"Not sure, berry. "

"Check the fucking calendar then."

"We ain't got no fucking calendar. Fine, I'll treat both of us to something special, eh?"

"If it's another round of drinks in that crazy bar of yours, I'll pass."

"Whatever you want, princess," Grimmjow shouted, breaking all the windows down, then throwing a chair outside. They exited using the door – the windows would be too obvious. The guards would be looking over at the source of the broken glass instead. As the masses of people clothed in black swarmed around the action, guiding panicked socialites to evacuate, Grimmjow and Ichigo disappeared into the exodus, hidden from sight as they made their escape.

Alien invasion, alien invasion!

Take me to your

An hour later

"The bosses making you work this late, huh?" the officer said sympathetically, swiping the I.D. card against the reader. It blinked once in approval, making a cheerful sound and he nodded his assent, smiling at the impassive looking man who observed his actions with a sharp eye.

"Yes." The dark-haired figure took the card handed to him, smoothly placing it back into his coat as he waited for his partner to pass. "The current status?"

"Not too much, they're just evacuating the area of people for the time being, so most of the evidence should be untouched," the man chattered idly, frowning at the lanky, thin man who came with him. "Your partner?" he asked skeptically, looking at the blond who scowled at every little thing that passed them.

Ulquiorra Schiffer nodded his affirmation.

"Well, alright…" The I.D. card of the blond also gave a cheerful chirp, and the officer had no choice but to let them pass. Soon enough, they were lead through the scene by another policeman, who like every other one in the vicinity, looked like he would rather be back at home, warm in his bed. Ulquiorra was no different, but he was no police trash, and he followed his orders to the point. If the orders wanted him to investigate, then he would investigate.

The identity he wore was that of a young police officer – the perfect picture of a controlled authority figure; calm, composed and stern. He didn't grimace or show any indication that he was disgusted by the security protocols, merely smiled when needed to as they were led through the floors and finally at the room where the assaulters have apparently escaped.

At the moment, his name and looks were nondescript.

"It's all that's left, Ryo-san. I'll leave you to your own devices – have a good day," the officer said politely, before turning to leave the room. As soon as he was out of hearing range, his partner – the blond, Matsuda – gave a long, suffering groan of dissatisfaction.

Unlike Ulquiorra, Matsuda was a fresh piece of meat – a thug, through and through, rough around the edges and carrying suspicion wherever he went. He never quite understood why his leader insisted on posting greenhorns to be his partners – but if he wanted to admit it, he rather liked beating sense into trash like Matsuda.

The uniform of police trash was itchy against his skin, but he refrained from fiddling with it too much. Such wasn't the case for his undisciplined companion.

"These things are itchy, boss…" the blond whined, scratching at his neck and wrists. As expected, the reserved Ulquiorra didn't answer, his dark hair stark against his pale skin as he surveyed and analyzed the damage done to the victim's abode.

The things strewn everywhere and the broken down doors confounded him. His green eyes ran over the debris, some wood on the floor, the carpet stained with blood – presumably from the guards. He assumed the ones who did this worked in a pair or a group with three people, with outside help, and definitely not pushovers. It was a fast, heavy duty type of work to break apart a powerful man's home and avoid capture at the same time.

The victim was a politician – who was hosting a ball, of sorts, in his home; a large party if you're counting the number of people attending it. The sudden attack on his home was expected, he supposed, but he was surprised on the way they did it. Ulquiorra figured that the assaulters were aware of the timing; the event gave them an opportunity to sneak in unnoticed, and the target was absolutely perfect to pick on – but he still wasn't sure why they'd want to leave with such a bang.

A warning? Some sort of threat?

Then again, because of the way the house was torn apart – from the basement to the top – he was sure that the real purpose wasn't really meant to threaten the politician. Implications of foul play were removed, because everyone was found alive, scared but definitely well and healthy.

His eyebrows furrowed. A job? If so, then this must be the most bizarre style of thieving he'd ever seen.

His companion wasn't so aware, and was quick to jump to conclusions. "These guys are amateurs, boss?" he asked curiously, looking around but not really seeing. "The damage's kinda random and all, like they were throwing shit around rather than thinking about it."

"No," Ulquiorra replied impassively, countering the man's assumptions. "This wasn't meant to be an assault. The way they broke down the doors… It was making a loud and quick escape, never really breaking in to tear the house apart. That's why the damage is random and inconsistent… They knew what they were doing."

Matsuda gawked. "No way!"

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes discreetly, mouthing 'trash' as he did so. He refused to elaborate again, but the blond kept chattering.

"So, like, you figure it's organized?"

At that, the man paused, looking at his companion and fixing him with a stare with his glassy green eyes. The world seemed to stand still at that; time stopping. Matsuda shivered in fear – Ulquiorra was infamous for climbing up the ranks faster than any other criminal in their organization, and for a split second, he could see the eyes of a cold-blooded murderer. After a minute or two, the gaze slid away as the man strode towards the exit, shoving his hands in his pockets. He had a report to do, so it was time to head back.

"Perhaps," was all he said, as his companion struggled to catch up.

Trash, garbage, waste, rubbish… Trash.



"So tell me something," Ichigo groaned out, before cursing loudly as he stubbed his toe on the low coffee table, and that didn't really help when he was aching all over and rushing, rushing, rushing. "Why did we decide to do a job on a class night?"

"Because we're fucking morons?" Grimmjow answered, brushing his pearly whites languidly as his roommate stumbled across the room. He never really got why Ichigo was so prissy bout being late. Said orange-head grumbled as he struggled to stuff a few books haphazardly into his messenger bag, and Grimmjow amusedly noted that he was stuffing X-rated things instead of his texts.

Well, all in good fun, really. He'll see what it'll do later.

"Yes, it is because we are fucking morons. We're going to be late, goddamn, and Grimmy get a move on it!" Ichigo shouted, grabbing files from the table with one swipe (he's a pro at it, now, he usually missed a few books and they crashed to the floor, hot damn) and exited with a firm shut for his door.

Grimmjow took his own sweet time, giving Ichigo five minutes to realize the porn.

He was wrong; it was two and a half.

Ichigo slammed the door open, red-faced as he threw the books towards Grimmjow's face. As the multiple sights of exposed cleavage ran down his face, he laughed uncontrollably, letting himself be dragged out of the apartment by a raging berry-head.

Soon enough Grimmjow was kicking up the clutch, letting the car get into top gear as Ichigo screamed at him to go faster, faster! If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that they were doing a live-action show right now. They skidded against the asphalt; tire marks burning to the pavement as Grimmjow skillfully drifted the car into their parking space.


"Whoah fuck!"

"You crazy shithead! Watch where you're going!"

Grimmjow grinned at all of them, opening the door and immediately flipping the birdie. Ichigo, on the other hand, wasted no time in getting out of the car, adjusting and readjusting his shirt while he paced into the college building; he was already used to Grimmjow's violent driving style.


"Fuck that stupid lecturer!" Abarai Renji shouted out loud, startling the other people who were in the area. Everybody quickly shifted their seats away from the red-head, excluding the ones who were already around Renji's table.

"Man, why would I wanna do that?" Keigo asked disgustedly, poking on his lunch and watching as the liquid oozed slowly into his sandwich. It wasn't any surprise that everyone thought the cafeteria was a laboratory – even the head chef was a freak show. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was a man even Grimmjow wouldn't trust his food with.

"Ha ha, Keigo."

"I formally request an order for all of you to shut the fuck up," Rukia said monotonously, before her head hit the table. Soon enough she started sleep talking. Ichigo was busy having his usual three shots of espresso – the ones he didn't have that morning, and beside him Grimmjow was nonchalantly snoring without a care in the world.

"Rough night?" Orihime asked sympathetically, unwrapping her bento as she did so. Ichigo held up a hand, and drank his second shot with enthusiasm, before shrugging.

"Pretty much. We were having the time of our lives… And we kinda forgot it was a class night."

"Hmph. At least some of us were doing the world some good as the rest went partying," a dark-haired, bespectacled male said disapprovingly, crossing his arms. Ichigo glared, but was unwilling to argue.

"What do you mean, Uryuu-san?"

"There was an assault done to the Kuroyagi mansion yesterday." Ishida pushed up his spectacles, frowning pensively. "I wasn't too sure about the details, but we were sent to investigate and clean up the wreckage," he explained, motioning towards him and Rukia.

Everyone who wasn't in the know was surprised. "I saw that in the newspapers," Tatsuki, Orihime's best friend, commented idly, furrowing her eyebrows. "I say he got it coming, though. All that corruption."

"Still, an assault?" Orihime looked worried, wringing her hands in thought. "Was anyone killed?"

"Funnily enough, no," Ishida replied. "It was just a simple attack – extensive, but simple. The perpetrators were thorough when they tore the house apart on the ground floor. Probably a warning or something, and at the right time too – and when Kuroyagi was having an event at the time, too…"

"Sounds like you're having a hard time," Ichigo said, rubbing his temples to get his mind into gear. "Got any suspects?"

"Well, we have a few leads. Apparently there were two suspicious men who caused a ruckus in the party, and were forced to leave."

"Did you find them?"

"We questioned the daughter, who deported them. She said she couldn't remember, because they were too unimportant for her to care. The typical behavior," Ishida elaborated, frustrated as he rubbed his forehead. "I hate working on cases concerning the high society."

"More like high anxiety," Grimmjow said sleepily, his body movements sluggish as he woke up. He stretched his limbs from side to side, swiping a cup from Ichigo to down a shot of espresso himself. "Aren't you supposed to question the bodyguards?"

Ishida glared at Grimmjow, and Grimmjow grinned back at him. Both of them genuinely didn't like each other, and it was a strained relationship that everybody knew about.

"It happened yesterday," Ishida replied coldly, before continuing, "And most of them were unconscious and badly beaten up, so we won't get any answers from them for the time being."

"Sucks to be you, then," Grimmjow countered, still grinning his insufferable grin that made Ishida want to punch him. "Well, that's that. Not too hard t –" He paused, feeling his phone vibrate. Grimmjow slid his phone out of his pocket, looking at the new message.

Five minutes was all it said.

He glanced at Ichigo's watch. "Come on berry-head. Nature's callin'."

"Oh, shut up," Ichigo said exasperatedly, before starting to move anyway. "Say bye to Rukia for me. Wouldn't wanna wake her up and all."

"Will do," the others chorused, watching them both disappear from the cafeteria.


"Isn't it ironic they're giving us the information we need?" Ichigo asked idly, chewing on the end of his pen as he thought of what to write. Nobody knew about it, not really, except Grimmjow – Ichigo was a mini-poet. It was something that Grimmjow laughed about when he first found out, but came to respect as the years went by.

"It's a cruel world, my friend," Grimmjow replied, showing his canines at his companion.

"Stop grinning. It's really getting creepy."

"You say that every time, but you know it's sexy."

Ichigo made a face as Grimmjow laughed. "I don't need this," he mumbled, looking at the sky – they were on the rooftop, a strange meeting spot but who was he to complain? They paid him for the jobs, and they gave him a place to stay, so it didn't really hurt to go along with their whims.

The sound of clogs hitting against the concrete floor gave them a hit of who was approaching.

"The Troublemakers, well well! How are my two children today?"

Both of them dragged their eyes up to meet with their eccentric leader – Urahara Kisuke; a brilliant man, but seemingly lacking in common and fashion sense. He did make it up with his brilliance in organizing one of the strangest thieving brotherhoods of all time.

"Hey, Hat and Clogs," Ichigo greeted, waving his acknowledgement, waiting for the man to stop in front of both of them, cane in front.

"What a show last night was! I knew you'd make quick work of Kuroyagi," Urahara complimented, sitting down beside both of them and leaning against the fence.

"It wasn't too hard. I guess Pinky really was useful turning off those security cams," the blue-haired man said in a rare show of appreciation before it slid back to his usual grinning façade. "So what's up? We don't usually meet this early after a job."

Urahara conceded before frowning. "Unfortunately, boy, you're right."

Oh. That was not good.

"What's up?" Grimmjow asked, with a rare frown on his face. Even Ichigo paused in twiddling with his pen.

"We're in a danger zone. I'm not about to get into any more skirmishes with the Arrancar but apparently they're investigating the fireworks show you two did yesterday."

"Shit," slipped out of Ichigo's mouth before he could stop it, though he had no idea why he would. This was a situation they didn't want to be in. Arrancar was their rival organization, but a lot more ruthless. While Ichigo and the rest made due with stealing things and mostly keeping their nose out of politics, Arrancar had connections all over the place. They should be the fucking yakuza – and they are. Pompous bastards. "We have to lay off, then?"

"Dude, we laid off the last time! What is up with these morons tryin' to pick up shit with us!?" Grimmjow demanded.

"Your style is, for the most part, while distracting – completely bizarre. I'm sure they're entranced with you two. I've always told you Ichigo, it may be that fruity shampoo of yours. 'Oh, the intense secrecy of this lovely scented mystery man-who-uses-strawberry-shampoo. I must absolutely find out who this is. Woe is me.'"

Urahara ducked the punch aimed for his head, laughing.

Ichigo, on the other hand, groaned loudly. Whatever happened to creativity? And fuck his fruity shampoo. So he liked strawberries, like his namesake. Fuck the world if they thought it was funny.

"At least lay down for a while longer than you usually would. Even if the police heat dies down, there're still those bastards to watch out for." Urahara gave a remarkable grin. "Apparently Kuroyagi was a target they've been after for a while too."

Grimmjow popped open a Coke. "Wonderful. Now why would Arrancar have anything against him?"

"Remember, Kuroyagi's been acting all cocky ever since he got the 'yakuza' to back him up. It's all amusing really, so I'm guessing they wanted to teach him a lesson. But you two tore the place down first, so now they're looking for the duo with the guts enough to kick down an Arrancarterritory."

"Not saying that I don't have the guts, but admittedly we didn't even know it was Arrancar, so…" Ichigo trailed, scratching his ear. Urahara rolled his eyes.

"Well they think that we know, so fuck that. Well, have a nice day you two. I'm guessing it'll take two weeks for the heat from the police to die down – Kuroyagi's a politician – and be wary for the next extra days," Urahara advised, before grinning and getting up. "Well, that's my job for the moment! I'll see you two later."

As Urahara hobbled away, Grimmjow spit to the side, grimacing.

"What a wonderful world."

I see trees of green

Red roses too
I see them bloom
me and you



A/N: Effin' crap, I swear. I don't know where this is going, but if you have any ideas, then it's cool. Give it up. :D This thing is really giving me a headache…

And it's my first fanfiction, too! Gasp, shock, horror.

Ishida has to be the policeman. And what will Grimmy and Ichi do if their cover is blown?!

Lol, the pairings. I'm sorry if you're looking for GrimmIchi. I mean, it's going to be mentioned but it's just not happening, because it's past. –crushes all hopes- But I'm not too sorry that my OTPs are GrimmUlqui and AizenIchi. xD

But then again, this is a story about their friendship.

I will love you if you review. Please, no flames.