Disclaimer: I Don't Own BLEACH In Any Way. It Is Rightfully Owned By and Copyrighted to Tite Kubo.

Rating: PG—PG-13 Due to Some Crude Language and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy

A/N: I was bored XD hope you like anyways :3

WARNING: This is practically a crack fic XD you can blame it on a friend of mine whose basically corrupted all these characters into nothing but failures :D also, some spoilers to the Arrancar arc. Hope you like anyways!


There was one thing that Grimmow Jeagerjaques truly hated about himself.

It wasn't his sadistic mindset.

It sure as hell wasn't his harshness.

It definitely was not his love for short sleeved, open jackets.

It was his cat-like curiosity and nature. On the outside, Grimmjow was quite cool, collected and confident. His strides were powerful and the smirk plastered on his lips 24/7 indicated his carefree attitude. However, if there was one thing he could really hate about himself, it would be those crappy urges caused by nothing but that release form of his. He cursed that, although it gave him grate speed, strength and agility, it also gave him and even greater curiosity and a mind that was very easily entertained by anything fuzzy, colorful, feathery, or bell-like. This usually included balls of yarn, pretty feathers, beads of varying colors, and, of course, bells.

Also, Grimmjow had noticed, that he slept most comfortably when he was curled up in a ball; like a cat. And, may it never happen, that someone pet him behind the ear or down his spine. This would only cause an embarrassing purring to come from his throat, which was something he also tended to do while asleep in a comfy position or place, and very awkward things for his body to do unconsciously. As soon as he had discovered all of theses things about himself, he promptly tried to stop them from occurring. However, after many useless attempts, he gave up and simply decided to try and keep his little 'habits' as secrets that no one else needed to know except him.

Sadly, though, this was one of those days where he truly hated and despised all those urges and traits. As he was aimlessly walking through the halls of Las Noches, this faithful day, simply looking for some entertainment, because there was just nothing really interesting to do since that day (or night, rather) it was just a lazy, boring day, something aroused his interest as he had turned a random corridor. His aqua eyes widened in curiosity and his ears even perked a little. In the center of the slightly off-white hall was something that was just plain out of place in the simple area. Someone seemed to have 'dropped' a small, plastic, blue and green ball.

His head tilted to one side and then walked up to the foreign article. Stopping in front of it with the same curious look on his face, he stared at it momentarily, simply admiring its simplicity. This was when his curiosity screamed at him to move it, to see if it would have some form of reaction. So, ever so gently with his foot, he pushed it forward a little. To his satisfaction, his ears were graced with the sound of a small jingle. The tiniest of smiles came onto his lips.

Wondering if he had truly heard the joyous sound, he kicked it once again but with a little more force. The response he received was the same sound from before but slightly louder. A mischievous little grin then followed; needless to say, Grimmjow was quite please with the outcome of events. He then turned his attention to picking the article off the ground so he could take it to the privacy of his room and keep his idiocy a secret. However, it seemed the small, plastic ball had other plans.

As he reached for the simple little toy, it took off a few feet away from him. He raised a light blue eyebrow in response. His interest kicked into high gear and he followed the object of his current attention. Before he could reach it, the thing jerked away once more, taunting the Sexta Espada with its small jingling. Aqua eye twitching at this disappointment, the man growled lowly and, once again, tried his luck at following the thing.

He let out a louder growl, almost a hiss, and showed his canines in doing so. Needless to say, it had left his reach once more. This was when he contemplated stopping this little wild goose chase; Grimmjow may be a little off but he wasn't stupid. With his cat-like curiosity also came easy paranoia. This was some kind of trick, no doubt about it. That damn thing was planted in the middle of the hall, purposely meant for his dumb ass to find it and promptly fight for it.

Growling lowly, he looked around in every direction possible. He saw none of Gin's camera's and could see no sign of Szayel's pink hair or Nnoitra's pedophiliac grin. He didn't sense anything out of the norm and couldn't seem to catch any odd scents.

Damn bastards must be hiding themselves pretty well, the Espada thought, annoyed. Sighing, slightly defeated, he continued onward, trying to lose all interest previously invested in the plastic toy. This proved to be a challenge as, with every silent step he took, he could hear the ringing of the damn toy as it rolled further away from him. Finally losing what little patience he possessed, he growled loudly and attacked the little piece of plastic. Landing on his knees and with his hands supposedly pounced on the thing; his face was set in a cynical grin.

He removed his hands from atop his prize. To his dismay, and extreme confusion, he saw nothing. He looked up and saw that the small sphere had been taken out of reach once more, and now lay a good four or five feet away from his current position on the floor. He shrugged and his eyes fell, annoyed. He should've known this would happen. Whoever was behind this knew how he would react and had enough reflexes to pull away the toy before he could reach it.

Damn it, he thought, obviously irritated. Whoever's behind this, I swear, I'm gonna rip them to shreds, he promised himself as he stood up and dusted his clothes a bit. And eat the remains, he added as an afterthought and grinned at the idea. After making himself look a little decent, he looked to the object of obsession that was currently occupying every crevice of his mind. He decided he wouldn't try pouncing it anymore. He began walking and followed it, resisting every urge to attack it.

After a few minutes, he realized he was nearing the meeting hall. He shrugged in an 'I-know-I'm-not-going-to-like-this' manner but continued, nevertheless. As he predicted, he followed the small object through the open doors of the meeting hall, promptly losing sight of what he was following after doing so. His aqua eyes scanned the area. The large table in the middle was illuminated from the light above while everything around it was shrouded in darkness.

Letting out a breath, he walked deeper into the room, searching for that Aizen-forsaken (?) piece of plastic that had kept his attention for so long. Walking up to the table, he placed a hand upon its smooth surface. Briefly gliding said hand on the surface, he then knelt down and looked under the long table. He saw nothing but darkness with few streaks of light to assist.

"Hmph!" he growled and stood up once more. He didn't have the patience, nor was he about to, go under and search. That thing was more trouble than it was worth, he was sure of it. Sighing, he turned on a heel and headed back towards where he had originally entered. With his hands stuffed down his pockets, he closed his eyes and continued onward. However, someone had other plans.

With his back turned, most of his interest in the toy lost, someone launched the small, hard ball straight at his head.

"Ow!" the blue-haired Espada hissed in slight pain as a hand immediately clutched the back of his blue head and he turned around once more. To his dismay and interest, Grimmjow saw, lying on the dark floor, the damn thing that he had been chasing after for the past half hour or so. His eye twitched again and he contemplated his options. Was he really going to suffer and possibly humiliate himself for that worthless toy that held a jingling bell in its confines?

…Of course he was. Why? Because, deep, deep in the back of his mind, he knew it actually would be worth it. He stared at the small object, almost as if he was having some kind of staring contest with it. For several minutes, it stayed perfectly silent; the toy didn't budge, Grimmjow didn't move a muscle, and the air was as still as ever. The only thing disrupting all of this was the Espada's slow and steady breathing.

And he went for it once again. Pouncing from his position to the sphere's in record time, his hand landed upon it once more. With a crazy grin, he opened his hands and smiled triumphantly to see the prize within the confines of his fists. Sitting up, he held the toy between his fore finger and thumb, ready to celebrate his little victory. Before he could do so, however, the once-dark room surrounding him suddenly illuminated to full brightness, stinging his aqua eyes in the process.

Squinting to get used to the new brightness, he suddenly heard subtle chuckling from the far corner of the room. Growling, he stood, placing his hand on the white table before him and keeping the other in a fist at his side, where he held on tightly to his trophy. His eyes widened and he stifled a gasp as he saw three figures waling towards him; Gin, Szayel, and Nnoitra, each smiling and laughing silently. His face then contorted into a definite scowl.

"What the hell!?" he demanded immediately. "What's so damn funny!?"

"Thank you, Grimmjow," Szayel said with a playful gleam in his eyes. The Sexta Espada merely glared further, his eyes demanding an explanation. Nnoitra chuckled slightly more loudly at this. Finally, the Octava Espada decided to continue.

"You just proved my hypothesis to be correct; if an Espada's release form or previous hollow is that of a certain creature," he paused, only to further boil the blood in Grimmjow's veins. He succeeded in doing so. "Then said Espada will have qualities of that type of creature."

"Yeah," Nnoitra added. "Which means you act like…" he paused and the three grinned wickedly at him.

"An adorable," Szayel began.

"Cuddly," Gin added.

"Little kitty!" Nnoitra finished finally and the three men burst into laughter. Grimmjow could feel the subtle heat at his cheeks.

"Don't feel bad, Grimmjow," an all-too familiar voice said from his left. The Espada looked and his eyes widened at the sight of Aizen, taking a seat at the head of the large table. "It is exactly those cat-like qualities than you possess that have you dubbed as my Sexta Espada. As a matter of fact, don't you feel honored? Agility and speed are strengths, not weaknesses after all." He heard the question clearly but could hear the chuckling of his comrades much louder. His blush deepened and he glared at them.

Without answering the question Aizen had posed, the aqua-eyed Arrancar ran out of the meeting hall, trying desperately to fight the red he felt on his face. He should've known that this would end badly. Now, four beings knew of his dirty little secret and, surely, said secret would pass on quickly to the other Arrancar, considering the main three who had set up this horrible prank were A-class gossipers. He made a mental note to claw out their throats later, as surely he wouldn't do it in front of Aizen. Growling lowly, he could still feel a light heat upon his face.

As he turned a quick corridor and entered the first door he saw, intending to go to his room, he closed the door shut behind him, locked it, and leaned back on it. Several questions now made their way into his head and wouldn't seem to leave him. Did Aizen think any less of him now? Should he have answered the question the other man had posed and was he right in letting Szayel, Nnoitra, and Gin live this long after such a humiliation? Would Aizen demote him yet again for being seen as something as weak and pathetic as an…adorable, cuddly, little kitty? He shuddered as he remembered the horrible words used to define him.

"Grimmjow?" a serious, emotionless voice broke the Espada out of his own thoughts, causing him to look up to where this voice had come from. As he did so, he took note of the room he was in and then to the other Espada that sat on the bed in front of him; it was Ulquiorra, Cuatro Espada. Looking around more, Grimmjow realized he was not in his room. He stood up straight and suddenly kept his face blank, not in the mood to argue with his nemesis.

"What're you doing here?" the younger Arrancar asked, keeping his voice as steady and emotionless as when Grimmjow had originally entered. The aqua-eyed Espada looked to the pale Cuatro and noticed that he seemed to be doing some form of research or papers.

"I need a place to think," Grimmjow stated rather than answered, walking silently across the room, around the bed, and towards the opposite wall. He didn't care right now that he was in his rival's presence or not; as far as he was concerned, a place to sit and think was just that, especially if it was quiet. If he knew Ulquiorra well enough, the Arrancar wouldn't do anything remotely exciting and his room should be the best for silence.

"And you chose my room because?" Ulquiorra questioned, nothing at all hinted behind his voice but keeping his emerald eyes on the other man as he walked around his bed.

"I thought it was my room," Grimmjow replied as he sat against the younger's wall, propping up one leg while the other lay bent on the ground. Propping an arm on said raised leg and relaxing the other on his lap, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Just don't bug me, I don't really care if I hate you right now or not," he told the green-eyed Espada in a blank voice. Ulquiorra stared at him for several brief moments before turning back to his work.

"Fine," he agreed but, somehow, Grimmjow could tell it was reluctant. "Just don't bother me yourself and you're welcome to stay as long as you wish." Grimmjow silently agreed and continued with his thoughts, slowly nodding off to the sound of Ulquiorra's pen as it silently glided across the paper he was writing at and the sound of pages being turned. Thinking that sleep may just help clear his mind of the embarrassing event that occurred only moments ago, his head fell and he himself allowed darkness to consume him, not caring that he would soon curl into a ball like the cat he was and allow his arch rival to see.


Grimmjow awoke some hours later, adjusting his eyes to the darkness that he hadn't originally gone to sleep in. Growling lowly, hearing a low purring coming from his throat from his previous nap, he leaned up on his elbows, looking himself over. His eyes fell, annoyed again, to see that his prediction was true; his legs were bent while his curled spine allowed them to be folded into his stomach while he had been using his arms as pillows. He truly was a cat, curled comfortably into a ball and purring happily at the blissfulness that was sleep. He also noticed that his position had changed.

While Grimmjow had originally fallen asleep leaning against the wall, he now found himself curled in ball, like he had already established, but laying right next to Ulquiorra's bed. Another strange thing he took note of was that Ulquiorra himself, currently lying on his bed sound asleep, had his left arm hanging off the side of his bed, resting every so slightly against Grimmjow's back. The contact didn't bother the Espada all that much; he was much more surprised that Ulquiorra, Cuatro Espada and A-class emotionless bastard who called everyone garbage or trash, would sleep so…imperfectly. The emerald-eyed Arrancar always seemed so flawless in everything he did that Grimmjow needed a few moments to comprehend this little defect. Perhaps that, with supposed 'perfection,' there actually was cracks in the wall every so often.

I wonder, mused the Sexta playfully. If there's anything else. He stood up after he thought this, careful to not wake his comrade, and looked over the younger as he slept so soundly, quietly and, aside from his hanging limb, so perfectly. He leaned over slightly to look over the younger's face, which was missing his hallow mask that now lay on the night stand on the opposite side and his face still seemed to have an 'emotionless' aura about it but one thing seemed out of place; his lips. The Cuartro's usually sealed lips were parted, ever so slightly, exposing his teeth a little. Also, seeing as the younger had his bed sheets lying on his hips, the blue-haired Espada could see that his comrade was shirtless, exposing his pale skin.

The little bastard has his faults, too, Grimmjow thought irately. He always acts like he's so much better than all of us but he even has his imperfections, he thought, interested but also annoyed. These new little discoveries didn't make Ulquiorra 'trash' but they made him more real. Real has faults and cracks, perfect does not. Seeing these tiny gestures allowed Grimmjow to realize that, what he'd heard by several is true; there's no such thing as perfect, and his comrade, Ulquiorra, was no exception. It also made the Sexta Espada wonder if the Cuatro Espada knew about his faults. Also, if he was aware, would he be so careless to allow Grimmjow, of all the Arrancar, to see said defect?

Something told him that answer to that question would be a very discreet, emotionless, and straightforward no. Ulquiorra was far from stupid but he also wasn't awfully bright either, Grimmjow decided. When one is asleep, they might as well be half-dead. So, although he and Ulquiorra were somehow 'dead,' when they slept, the same principle must apply. Like humans and Shinigami, they, as Arrancar, are not conscious of what they do when sleeping.

But Grimmjow had noticed his undesirable flaws after waking up three times in a row after being created in the same awkward and embarrassing position; curled into a ball. He also took deep note of his horrible urges after noticing his deep attraction to colorful/fluffy/feathery things that made noise or sounded like a bell. But the Sexta Espada knew well that not everyone was like him. If they were, there would be too many sadists and psychopaths. So, now, a new question has been posed; was the Cuatro aware of his own tiny flaws? Or did fate put Grimmjow in this exact position to be able to expose them for his own sadistic desires?

Problem? It was, against Grimmjow's willingness to admit, likely that Ulqiorra had also seen the Sexta's cat-like position from minutes ago, seeing as Grimmjow fell asleep hours before the younger. So, if the cat-like Arrancar exposed the emerald-eyed one, it was likely that the younger would quickly seek revenge and do the same to him.

Damn emotionless bastard, the blue-haired Espada thought, annoyed. Surely Szayel, Nnoitra, and Gin would love to see his comrade's all-too adorable display but, alas, he was at risk, too. It was bad enough the three already knew of his horrible little obsession; he didn't need them to know that he also slept like a cat, on top of everything. That was just…stupid…and suicidal. He'd never hear the end of it and he'd surely kill himself quicker than put up with one day of 'I can't believe you sleep like that! You really are a kitty!' or something along those lines. He shuddered at the thought and turned his attention back to Ulquiorra.

His aqua eyes widened slightly to see that the younger had changed position, ever so slightly. It seemed the Cuatro's arm had become slightly numb from all the blood flowing to his hand so he now had brought his arm up, bringing it into his chest. Grimmjow was almost tempted to bring the covers up to the pale man's shoulder so he'd stay warm. Almost. Cute or not, he still hated Ulquiorra and, now, he had a stable reason. Leaning over the young man once again, he glared and proceeded on waking Mr. I-think-I'm-better-than-everyone-else-but-I'm-really-not up.

"Wake up, you little creep," Grimmjow muttered as he poked the younger on his shoulder repeatedly. "I got a bone to pick with you." He always had a bone to pick with Ulquiorra but, now, it was certainly awfully personal. "Wake up," he demanded, slightly louder and switching to shaking the pale corpse before him a little. Ulquiorra began groaning, sounding slightly displeased that someone would be disrupting his sleep.

Finally, his emerald eyes opened, half-lidded, only to find that his awakener was his sadistic comrade.

"Jeagerjaques?" he questioned, calling the man before him by last name. "What is it now?" Grimmjow laughed mentally as he could sense the slightest bit of irritation behind the younger's usually so composed and serious voice. Seeing or hearing any kind of emotion from Ulquiorra was not only rare but difficult so, when he did notice them, Grimmjow was, needless to say, quite amused. They were moments that allowed him more insight into the Cuatro's 'imperfection.'

"Did you see me?" that feline-esque Espada demanded silently.

"What? See you barge into my room several hours ago? Or see you when you decided my wall was best for sleeping?" the younger asked, his voice masking any possible feeling.

"When did you go to sleep?" Grimmjow now asked, deciding that it was much more direct.

"At least an hour and a half or so after you did, why?" Ulquiorra questioned.


"Why so silent, Jeagerjaques?" there was nothing behind that voice but, somehow, if Grimmjow could delve into the Cuatro's mind, he would see a very amused Arrancar, laughing at his embarrassment.

"Shut up, you emotionless bastard!" he demanded as silently as he could. "So you did see me when I was…sleeping in that…" The blue-haired Espada could barely finish his sentence without feeling a small heat at his face.

"You'll never get over it if you can't even admit it," Ulquiorra told him. Grimmjow looked up to him.

"Huh?" he asked.

The smaller Arrancar looked another direction, seemingly annoyed, before looking back to his comrade. "Yes, I did see you," he confessed, watching as Grimmjow turned a deeper shade of red. "And, to be honest, I don't mind nor do I care. I allowed you to see me asleep, too, did I not?"

"So you do know that you sleep funny," Grimmjow smiled and stated, sitting on the edge of Ulquiorra's bed, his eyes playful. The Cuatro groaned.

"Yes, I'm aware of it. Alas, no one is perfect, not that I thought I was," he told his aqua-eyed comrade.

"You can say that but still act like you're better than everyone else. Hypocrite," the Sexta growled, his face scrunching in annoyance.

"I'm better than you, trash," Ulquiorra stated.

"…Excuse me? I'm not some emotionless psycho that barely flinches in a fight and doesn't have any sense of humor. That routine may work on the battlefield but, geez, you think you could at least smile once in a while," the blue-haired man said, annoyed that Ulquiorra would say such an atrocity, even if it was true, ranking-wise.

"Only psycho here is you, Grimmjow. At least I don't find amusement in seeing others in pain, you sadistic trash," Ulquiorra threw right back at him.

"Quit calling me trash!"

"Stop calling me emotionless."

"It's not a lie," was Grimmjow's witty comeback.


"Emotionless bastard."

They looked away from each other, silence engulfing them for several moments that felt like an eternity. It felt awkward for Grimmjow, mainly because he didn't like Ulquiorra in the first place, but also because they were fighting as if they were acquaintances, even just a pair of silly friends fighting over something as frivolous as insults. Now, he felt more idiotic than before. Perhaps Ulquiorra was right in calling him trash…

As quickly as that thought had come, Grimmjow immediately shook it away. He was not about to admit that he was trash. Psychotic, maybe, but not trash. Trash was completely useless; at least being psychotic and sadistic had some uses.

"Is everyone else asleep?" the Sexta found himself asking suddenly.

"They should be," Ulquiorra answered, turning to face his 'guest' once more.

"Good then," Grimmow said, standing up and making his way to the opposite side of the room. "I'm out."

"You're welcome to stay." Grimmjow froze in his place upon hearing these words, coming from the only other person in the room; Ulquiorra. This was so unlike him that the aqua-eyed Espada wasn't even sure of he had said it in the first place. Finally getting back his ability to move once more, he turned around and faced the smaller man, who was sitting up in his bed, hands on his lap and skin looking paler by the light of the moon.

"Come again?" he asked curiously.

"Aside from Aizen coming by every once in a while to give me some work, I don't get too many visitors," Ulquiorra explained, his head hanging slightly. "In your time here, you've proven to be…amusing." Grimmjow glared and widened his eyes slightly at that comment; what the hell did he mean by 'amusing'?

"What?" the Espada demanded, his voice hinting that he felt insulted.

"It's interesting to watch you," the Cuarto explained. "Your habits are amusing." He used that word again and it made Grimmjow twitch in his eye once more.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" he asked, still feeling insulted.

"If it makes you stay then, yes, you are," Ulquiorra responded.

"You call me trash on the daily basis and, now, you expect me to stay here to amuse you?" Grimmjow questioned, his eyes falling, obviously annoyed. "Am I supposed to feel special 'cause your oh-so high-and-mighty ass has chosen me to be entertainment? Because, FYI, I'm more disgusted by the idea rather than pleased." He noticed Ulquiorra hang his head further.

"It was only a suggestion," he explained as he lay back in bed, his pale back facing Grimmjow's direction. The blue-haired Espada sighed, annoyed and walked back to his comrade. Damn sympathy; he knew he was going to regret this.

"Now what's wrong with you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice rather annoyed. "Sad that, for once, you didn't get your way?"

"You were much more amusing when you were sleeping, trash," Ulquiorra told him, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer. Grimmjow was not pleased with this comment.

"Hmph!" he growled irately, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't know 'amusing' if it crept up on you and bit you on the ass, you emotionless, unfeeling, unsympathetic piece of crap!" he seethed, trying to remain as silent as possible so any neighboring Arrancar in the other rooms wouldn't hear. However, the Sexta's only response was Ulquiorra's slight shuffling and, then, silence. He momentarily wondered if he had gone too far before brushing the thought off. If the Cuarto was truly as emotionless as he led on, then this tiny insult shouldn't stir him

It was silent for a full, very long, minute as Grimmjow simply stared at the rising and falling back as his comrade breathed silently. Afterwards, Ulquiorra neither demanded that he leave but, to Grimmjow, he didn't seem completely interested in his presence being present. The teal-tattooed Espada then sat on the bed once more and leaned over the pale, smaller Arrancar, his breath tickling the younger's cheek. Through the corner of his eye, the ebony-haired young man looked at him.

"Silent treatment, eh?" Grimmjow breathed, his voice purposely husky and low. "Like I'm not already used to this; you barely talk, too." Ulquiorra shrugged in slight annoyance and his guest's never-ending crude comments and insults.

"Get off of me, trash," the younger asked of him, sounding the slightest bit angered by their close proximity.

"And so he speaks," Grimmjow teased, a small but sadistic grin forming upon his lips. "Calling me trash, yet again, might I add."

"You're not going to let me sleep, are you?" the Cuatro asked of him, his voice firm.

"Most likely not," Grimmjow answered, very much amused with his idea of torture.

"Can you at least be a little more entertaining?" the aqua-eyed Espada's eyes feel, annoyed at this comment.

"First I'm amusing, now I'm not amusing enough? What do you want from"—he was cut short as Ulquiorra reached up with his left hand, grabbed Grimmjow by the collar of his much-too-small jacket and pulled, Grimmjow's lips crashing into his own, letting his eyes close and not caring of the other man he was kissing reacted positively or not. The lower-ranking Espada, however, currently had his eyes wide, certainly surprised but also intrigued by this sudden act of affection. It was definitely unexpected, especially from the ball of angst he knew as Ulquiorra Schiffer. He found himself returning the gesture and, before he knew it, his eyes had fallen closed completely.

Gentle and anxious, the kiss was short-lasted. Their lips parted carefully and Ulquiorra was the first to say something.

"Now you're amusing," he told the other man softly, his hand still clutched tightly to the collar of his jacket.

"Because it's beneficial to you, correct?" Grimmjow asked, suddenly suspicious.

"You liked it, too, Jeagerjaques," Ulquiorra threw back. "I felt you return the favor, did I not?"

"…" the blue-haired, cat-like Arrancar stayed silent before silently cursing himself and feeling the heat returning to his face. "Thought you didn't even like me."

"You're not completely useless."

"You call me trash at least three times a day," Grimmjow countered, annoyed.

"Trash is reserved for you, I call everyone else garbage," Ulquiorra clarified and his guest blushed, realizing it was true.

"Not like it's any different," Grimmjow told him, forcing the heat at his face away and looking into the emerald eyes before him that still managed to hold almost no feeling or emotion.

"Trash can be useful."

"You really are an idiot." Ulquiorra pulled at his collar gently.

"Does that mean you don't feel the same?" he asked him, his eyes drooping slightly, if that was possible. Grimmjow smiled; he could use this all to his advantage and, after today, Ulquiorra didn't seem as horrible as he had previously thought. So saying he did feel the same wouldn't be a total lie; his feelings towards Ulquiorra would adjust, eventually. He grinned, his perfectly sharpened canines showing as he did, before leaning down and planting another kiss on his ebony-haired ball of angst, purring rather loudly as he did so. It seemed he didn't regret this after all


A/N: Too…freaking…long .-. this literally took me almost a month and a half to write D: And don't get me started on the tedious work of editing -failed at life- Oh and when Ulquiorra states that he reserved the term 'trash' for Grimmjow, this isn't a lie. -SPOILERS- If you read the manga (and are far enough ahead) there's a volume where Ulquiorra calls almost everyone 'garbage.' Yet, either in the same volume or in one a little ahead (not quite sure) he calls Grimmjow 'trash.' It's something me and a friend of mine noticed, which we found quite amusing XD doesn't help that we're big fans of this pairing :3

Any who, hope you all liked! :D Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames ;D thanks! Oh, and here:

Aizen-forsaken: From what I've read (mainly) and somewhat seen, the Arrancar, Espada included, kind of see Aizen as their 'god' or something along those lines. So, I thought it would be appropriate to switch 'Godforsaken' to this. I could be wrong but, hey, kind of makes for small, laugh, eh? :3