Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters and names belong to Tite Kubo. If the following corresponds to any actual events they are purely coincidental.
Warnings: AU, OCCness (Though that's a given), Bad language, a little guy on guy, and extremely dramatic situations.
I decided to update this chapter and then improve the last ones. Cuz...their pretty damn bad.
Ichigo and Grimmjow were seated on the couch closely, but not too close. The thought of that weird man in the next room made the orange head back off a bit. They watched television together; it was about some doctor named House who was addicted to pain medication. The bluenette seemed to be really engrossed in it, his gorgeous cyan eyes focused on the screen, his body leaning forward a bit as if he was caught on every word. Ichigo had stopped watching it ages ago. He found the sexy blue haired man to be more than enough entertainment for him. After a particularly bloody scene, Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo absentmindedly, and then did a double take when he found him staring. He smirked that maddening, devastating smirk of his and leaned in closer, his big, warm hand slowly sliding over Ichigo's. He could feel the warmth from the bluenette's hand seeping into his; it had to be one of the most delicious sensations.
Grimmjow leaned in closer to him, his lips at Ichigo's ear, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on the delicate tanned skin. He seemed about to say something, and Ichigo felt himself waiting in anticipation, and was strangely disappointed when all he did was plant a fleeting butterfly like kiss on the ridge of his ear. Ichigo would never be able to explain to anyone why he had been so disappointed, or what he'd been expecting him to say, but for the life of him at the moment it seemed a big deal. It might be unkind, but he wanted to force it out of the bluenette. Ichigo looked at Grimmjow from under his eyelashes, hoping to whatever gods were watching over him that it appeared remotely sexy. He pushed himself up on the couch, his lips a hairsbreadth away from Grimmjow's full gorgeous ones, and he smiled, his eyes flicking up to the bluenette's and back down to his lips. His heart thudded in his chest, momentarily losing his nerve. Grimmjow's eyes seemed to be undressing him, and fucking him at the same time. He lightly touched their lips together in a mock kiss, earning a frustrated growl from Grimmjow. That's what I wanted to hear, he thought.
He smiled, and worked feather light kisses from the corner of Grimmjow's mouth up his strong jaw. He settled at his ear, nipping at the soft flesh there, and soothing it with a lick. He could feel Grimmjow's breath against his ear again. After a moment of silence he forced down a growl, he wasn't going to try and tell him? All the things it could possibly be rushed through his mind, each more embarrassing than the last until he told himself he was being ridiculous. He copied Grimmjow's abrupt kiss and leaned away, hoping his look didn't betray his feelings. The bluenette's eyes sparkled with mischief and he pushed Ichigo back onto the couch, his head now resting on the arm of the couch. Grimmjow situated himself above him, grinning down ferally and Ichigo sucked in a breath. The bluenette captured his lips then with force and passion. They kissed like two people starving for air. Grimmjow's body was pressed against his, and for the first time Ichigo found that their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. He could feel every dip and nook and cranny, every plane and hard muscle of Grimmjow's body, poised above his like a predator. Grimmjow pulled back, allowing Ichigo to breathe. He panted, embarrassed that he'd been so affected by one little kiss, until Grimmjow settled their hips together and he found the bluenette to be just as affected as he, if not more.
The hard length straining in Grimmjow's pants made Ichigo grind up against him, almost begging for more, for better contact and friction. The small, insistent motion made Grimmjow chuckle huskily. "Can't get enough, can you Ichi?" Grimmjow growled against Ichigo's neck. He kissed his Adam's apple, his bright cyan eyes flickering back up to look at him. The question was still in his eyes. Did he really want him to answer that? He'd thought it was a rhetorical question. Couldn't he feel how much he wanted him? Grimmjow's eyebrows furrowed and he bit harshly at the base of Ichigo's neck. He gasped in surprise, his hands flew up to Grimmjow's chest, trying to push him off, but to no avail. The blue haired man's sharp canine's bit into Ichigo's sensitive flesh almost hard enough to draw blood. He then licked and sucked at the spot until he seemed satisfied. His eyes focused back on Ichigo's, but now he seemed furious. He came back up to his lips and captured them, his tongue demanded entrance, which Ichigo granted quickly. Their teeth clashed together, and Grimmjow's tongue slid into his mouth, he explored slowly, pausing for a long time on Ichigo's chipped tooth. Eventually, he coaxed Ichigo's tongue to play. He made himself more comfortable, and slid a hand underneath Ichigo's head to deepen the kiss.
It seemed like Grimmjow was all around him, he could smell him, taste him, feel him, and he was completely intoxicated, The heat was intense, and getting even worse while their tongues battled for dominance. Ichigo needed air, badly and finally, he let Grimmjow win their tiny little tongue battle. Grimmjow finally released him, both of them panted hard, looking each other in the eyes, asking and answering questions that neither of them even comprehended fully. The hand Grimmjow was using to prop himself up he now slid down Ichigo's body, sending up tingles wherever it touched, to grasp his hip. The very simple gesture spoke of Grimmjow's dominance, and Ichigo wordlessly parted his legs. The bluenette settled himself between them, looking for all the world as if he'd just won the lottery. Ichigo giggled and planted a kiss on his forehead. He ran his hands through the silken strands of electric blue. Grimmjow's fingers slid under Ichigo's shirt, his fingertips were almost cold on his hips. Grimmjow rested his forehead on Ichigo's, while he began slow circles with his fingertips, humming a tune that seemed almost too familiar for words.
The moment was so intimate; their noses brushing, foreheads rested on each others, and their eyes staring into one another's that Ichigo felt as if they were already lovers. Had been for years even. Like they were familiar with each other, closer than family. Ichigo found himself smiling absently while he played in Grimmjow's hair, he searched those gorgeous cyan eyes of his like he was seeing his soul laid out before him. Grimmjow's fingers slowly danced up Ichigo's stomach, drawing a little sun around his navel before traveling up farther. He stopped just shy of Ichigo's nipples, he recaptured Ichigo's lips, kissing them once, twice, thrice, before he deepened the kiss his eyes still open, watching Ichigo. And Ichigo, didn't know what to do with himself. It seemed like Grimmjow was content to take ages with him, but he wasn't content to wait ages. He lifted his hips, reminding Grimmjow of his need. But the bluenette merely chuckled in reply and lightly pinched the taut little nipple between two fingers. He rolled it, pinched it and then circled it until Ichigo gasped for air. He was sick of being the one tortured now.
He reached up and began unbuttoning Grimmjow's shirt. The bluenette's fingers trailed back down Ichigo's body, who seemed to arch under his caresses like a cat. He pinched the fabric between his fingers and lifted Ichigo's black tee above his head. He stopped at the elbows and bunched the fabric up in his hands, affectively pinning him there, his arms back above the arm of the couch. The blue head went down and captured the nipple he'd ignored earlier and began suckling it, like the most contented lover. Ichigo 'Nnn'ed the warm tongue caressing that sensitive spot had him growing even harder, and he bucked up against Grimmjow, whimpering pitifully. Grimmjow smiled, and blew on the wet skin there. Ichigo shivered violently, more from pleasure than cold. The bluenette already knew just what to do to make him feel good. Better than he'd know himself actually. If this kept on, in a matter of moments Grimmjow would be able to play him like a fiddle and he wouldn't have much to say in the matter. He wanted to touch Grimmjow now, he wanted to run his hands over those strong, muscular abs, he wanted to encircle those defined, thick football player shoulders of his, he wanted to memorize every plane of hard muscle and find those spots that drove Grimmjow insane.
Grimmjow left his arms that way, knowing full well he could escape, and yet he didn't…why? He didn't understand himself. Just a moment ago he wanted escape more than anything. The bluenette smiled at him and pulled off his own shirt, allowing Ichigo to gawk openly. Then, Grimmjow kissed the obvious buldge in Ichigo's pants. The orange head couldn't help it, he groaned. Grimmjow ran his hands over the fishnet stockings, and up under the bottom of Ichigo's shorts. He unbuttoned the little brass button with his teeth and began pulling down the zipper.
The tall man with long black hair, Nnoitora, he thought Grimmjow called him, came out into the living room, wearing only a pair of black boxers. He was atrociously thin, and yet his eyes were focused on the kitchen so hungrily that Ichigo wondered if he was a fat kid inside, or something. His long piano like fingers reached down to scratch his ass, showing an unfortunate birth mark on his lower right butt cheek.
And the moment was gone.
Grimmjow could fucking strangle Nnoitora. Always count on him to come in and ruin a perfectly good moment. Ichigo had been into it, a little more and he could've been putty in his very capable hands. He wanted some kind of assurance of Ichigo's feelings. Sometimes Ichigo could be as unreadable as Ulquiorra, and that more than unnerved him. But what could he really ask for after all? For the orange head to fall in love with him? Not hardly, since he wasn't in a place where he could possibly love anyone back. So what, what could he really ask of him, a promise that he would eventually love him?
Ichigo was putting his shirt on, and buttoning his shorts. It was a shame to cover up all of that sexy ass body. When they became lovers he'd be sure to make it a rule that he couldn't wear clothes in the condo. Ever. Grimmjow didn't even bother putting his shirt back on. Nnoitora and him had a habit of hanging out on Sunday's, watching football in their boxers. He could care less if he saw him without a shirt. But Ichigo…he eyed his sweet little strawberry. It was better if Ichigo actually dress a little bit classier around Nnoitora. He somehow expected the tall spoonlike man to be a bit more interested whenever he told him stories about Ichigo. The man in question waltzed back out of the kitchen, holding the slender neck of a beer bottle, looking at them with a sly grin.
"Oh you can go right back to what you were doing. It's not often that I get to watch live porn like this." Nnoitora said, winking at Ichigo. Grimmjow was expecting him to jet, like he did earlier, but he stood his ground this time. He was blushing from the roots of his hair on down, but hey, progress was progress.
"I guess it's not often that you get laid either, huh?" Ichigo quipped. Everyone paused for a minute before Nnoitora threw back his head, guffawing. Grimmjow chuckled as well, both amused and turned on.
The spooklike man looked at Grimmjow then, "You better settle down with this one." He said, his eyes still laughing. He came and sat on the couch with them. Grimmjow shot daggers at him with his eyes, but that really wouldn't do much good. After another gulp of beer Nnoitora's eyebrows came together over his nose. "Oi! What the fuck is this shit you're watching?" He asked, already flipping the channels. Grimmjow took the remote and flipped it back.
"If you don't like it go watch something else at your place." Grimmjow grumbled, apparently affronted by the open attack on what seemed to be his favorite show. Nnoitora didn't catch the hint, and leaned back, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. His hand lightly brushed Ichigo's shoulder. He withdrew immediately after, but it hadn't seemed like an accident. It was a very deliberate thing. If the incident was repeated, Grimmjow would probably have to politely kick one of the two the hell out of his house. Nnoitora leaned over and whispered something in Grimmjow's ear. It took him a good long while before he realized what he had said.
Ichigo had kissed him goodnight and gone, before Grimmjow fully recognized the words for what they were. Nnoitora had noticed the way he was looking at him, had seen the thoughts flitting across Grimmjow's mind. And likewise, Grimmjow could see the accusations in his friends gaze 'You're so sprung' it said, 'You were gonna ruin our bro time for some little plaything?'
The words he'd whispered were, 'Bro's before hoe's'.
By the time Ichigo got home, both Rukia and Renji had gotten home, eaten and went to bed. Sleep. It sounded like such a good idea he wanted to skip all the preparations such an activity called for. In the end he just brushed his teeth, changed and went to bed.
The next morning, he woke up, bright eyed and bushytailed. His first assignment of the day was to finish cleaning Director Ulquiorra Cifer's house. He borrowed his friends CD player, and wore some more sensible clothing. As long as Starrk didn't hear about the break of his uniform code, he felt that this was the wisest choice he could've possibly made. Walking around in that ritzy-titzy neighborhood, dressed like a common prostitute really couldn't be helping his image any. If he'd known he was going there yesterday he wouldn't have worn it at all. Or at least vetoed the fishnet stockings for Christ's sake.
Today he was better prepared. He wore some fairly new acid wash skinny jeans, black vans, and a grey v-neck, dressed up with a black and white striped cardigan. It had to be, collectively, the most expensive outfit he owned. He did have a tuxedo before but someone spilled bleach on it and hid it behind the nightstand. Ichigo grabbed his duffel bag of cleaning supplies from by the door and looked back at the two sleeping forms on the tiny twin sized bed. With a tiny little smile, he shut the door softly behind himself.
He got to Ulquiorra's house without incident, he did get a few stares this time, but it was mostly at his bright orange hair. Those kinds of stares he was used to, even the woman who tentatively asked if it was dyed or not. When he arrived at Ulquiorra's house, surprised to find him waiting outside for him. Ichigo smiled at Ulquiorra, and he saluted him hoping the action didn't seem nearly as foolish as it felt.
"Reporting for duty, Director Cifer." Ulquiorra looked as if he was going to crack a smirk, but his face remained neutral.
He turned on his heel and pushed the door of his house open. "I'm glad you're not wearing that ridiculous outfit from yesterday." He said, and then turned to walk into another room. Ichigo couldn't help himself, he had to ask, or else it'd be gnawing at him the whole day.
"Why were you waiting outside for me?" Ulquiorra stiffened noticeably.
"I wasn't waiting outside for you, actually I have an appointment that I'm meant to be at and I simply wanted to give you this. I expect the main hall and dining room to be finished by my return. I shall have some extremely important guests over today." He said, extending a pale white hand that held a single, silver key. "If anything is removed from my home I shall expect you to pay with your body." Ulquiorra said tartly, and then stiffened even farther when he realized his own mistake. "I meant of course your services…cleaning services. Since you are…" He turned and grabbed a jacket off of a coat hanger and left without another word. Ichigo was left staring after him for some time, wondering whether to be flattered, offended, or what. So he settled on confused and started playing the CD he'd brought with him. He set to work, the strong crisp smell of Pine Sol permeating the air with its fragrance, he watched at the soot covered floors cleared away, showing a bright, sparkling image underneath. The hardwood flooring in the 'main hall' and marble in the dining room were so gorgeous, he cleaned them with ferocity. When Ulquiorra's guests came over, he wanted this space to represent him, and his image. He knew the man wanted to keep up his façade of well…near perfection. He honestly didn't want anyone else's image of the emerald eyed man to be shattered like his had upon entrance.
Once done with the floors, he began the surfaces, allowing his mind to wander to other things, like imaging what would've occurred had Nnoitora just stayed the fuck in the room. Next time, he promised himself, things would be different, he would have control, and be the one driving Grimmjow crazy, not the other way around. He couldn't believe Grimmjow hadn't gone for the instant kill. What had transpired yesterday night was just…something else. It was beyond the level of intimacy that they could've ever gotten from sex. Though…he really could have gone for some more physical intimacy too. Couldn't Grimmjow tell he didn't want to take things slow? It wasn't like he was a virgin or anything…though it had been a long time. Now listen to him, sounding like some old main who hadn't been laid in decades. It had only been what…two…three years?
Gods, no wonder he had no self restraint. He was surprised at himself. What had he been doing all this time? He couldn't remember when he'd had an actual romance, versus a sort of 'friends with benefits type of deal. And he used to think that was sensible, which made the truth even more incomprehensible.
He shook his head, and got back to work.
Grimmjow was headed out for a meeting. Honestly, he was surprised that they'd waited so long for this meeting. They began shooting that Monday, he wondered how long the meeting would run on. He already glanced at his watch, of which he was wearing two because it seemed more professional somehow. He'd also took a shower, shaved, and actually styled his hair back. He wore some black slacks, a white tee shirt, black pin striped tie, and black converse shoes. Okay, so it wasn't exactly 'meeting approved attire, but he thought that life in general shouldn't have dress codes. He wondered why the cinematographer, Nemu Kurotsuchi, had warned him to be careful and wary upon entering this meeting. Were they planning on taking him off of the project? No…that'd be ludicrous. He was the main director after all. Ah, he made a note on a piece of paper, he'd have to talk to the script writer, Halibel, about changing the direction of the rape scene just a little bit. If Ichigo wasn't in it, he'd be all for it. It seemed like a very powerful element to have in the story, but would he really be able to just stand by and do nothing while Kisuke raped Ichigo right before his eyes? And what if the lighting wasn't right, or the lines were wrong and they had to it all over again? He shook his head to clear it, deciding that he would much rather go for a little bondage or something, maybe they wouldn't go all the way. He'd have to think of something more visually appealing for the viewer, while also being acceptable for him. He rubbed his temples, feeling a powerful headache already forming behind his eyes.
This is why you're not supposed to get involved with your actors, a traitorous little voice said, from the back of his mind. The majority screamed back, it's a little too late for that now, don't you think? He glanced at his watch again, hissing like a cat. At this rate he was going to be at least half an hour late. And Nemu considered people late if they were exactly on time. He looked longingly at the lukewarm cup of coffee sitting on his dining room table before leaving. He had a folder full of papers that needed to be signed, or approved of, and some grants for places they needed to clear for certain days of shooting. He really needed a copy of the script as well, he'd lost his copy almost the moment it was handed to him.
Grimmjow's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he answered while riding the elevator down. He held it between his ear and his shoulder, while he pushed the papers back in the folder, so they'd at least look organized. It was Nemu, the cinematographer, calling to tell him that the location of the meeting had changed, as well as the time. The bluenette stopped, his finger hovering over the 'unlock' button on his car keys.
"The meeting has moved to Director Cifer's home. And the time has been pushed back about a half an hour…" She paused, and listened to a short, clipped voice. "Halibel san says that you might be able to make the time if you were to leave right now." Grimmjow grumbled, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver's seat. He set the folder in the passenger's seat. "You're in your car now, Jagerjaques san?" Grimmjow started up his car and drove out of the car garage, he flipped down the visor to block the sun. "Would you like for me to give you directions to Director Cifer's home?" Grimmjow sighed, thinking that maybe he could trick himself into believing that Director Cifer and Ulquiorra were two different people.
"No, I don't need directions." He said, trying to ignore the snicker he heard from the background on Nemu's side. Halibel had been with the company as long as Ulquiorra, she had guessed their relationship before it had really started. One time the scary blonde woman had even hid them from their boss when they were… He shook his head, his chest tightening. Things were different now, he had Ichigo, and Ulquiorra…well he was just Director Cifer now. "Tell Halibel that I don't need her opinion." He said, before pressing end on his phone and tossing it on the folder in the passenger's seat. Grimmjow could get to Director Cifer's house without thinking about it.
Ulquiorra came home, and the main hall and dining room were spotless, he could almost see his reflection in the hardwood floors. There was a crisp clean scent in the air; he could hear the faint buzzing of music coming from the kitchen. The pale man began setting out the papers for the meeting, wondering at the curiosity that was nagging at him. With a slight sigh he gave into it and went into the kitchen. The destruction there had been the greatest, since that was where Szayel had done the experiment. He remembered padding to the kitchen the next morning after lending the space to Szayel and almost shrieking with terror. He was glad no one else was around, because he probably would've been reduced to tears. Instead, he collected himself and immediately called the maid service. It was like one surprise had snowballed into another, going from the terror Friday morning to Ichigo showing up at his door Friday afternoon. And he had to say, he was glad Ichigo wasn't as stupid as he appeared, and changed his attire today.
He didn't want to admit it, but he had been waiting for Ichigo today. Ulquiorra couldn't understand himself, why had he lied and said he needed to be somewhere? He'd ended up just wasting time around town, scaring half the people he passed because he was thinking too hard and made some kind of terrible face. The pale man couldn't even imagine what he'd looked like. He rested his hand on the door frame and watched the orange haired man wipe the soot off of the marble island in the kitchen. His hips were swinging in unison to the song, Hips Don't Lie by Shakira. Ulquiorra felt his face break into a smile. The orange haired man was the only person he knew that could enjoy cleaning to that extent. Ulquiorra liked to organize, but not clean things. He didn't want to dirty himself anymore than necessary. Call it whatever you want, OCD, anything. When Ichigo turned and looked at him however, it melted off of his face. He turned away, and Ichigo turned down the music.
Ulquiorra could almost hear the smile in Ichigo's voice when he said, "Hey Director Cifer, back so soon?" He said, and then giggled. Actually giggled, for him. Ulquiorra wondered if maybe the orange haired man was insane. He was probably the first and only person to actually have the audacity to laugh at him. Ichigo turned the music back up and laughed again. Ulquiorra looked over at him, frowning. The orange haired man held a dirty cloth in one hand and the other hand was holding his imaginary dancing partner to him while he danced. After watching him for a few more moments, Ulquiorra could tell what dance it was, and how exactly to copy it. Ichigo raised an eyebrow at him, an invitation in his eyes. He took an impulsive step towards him before the doorbell rang. Both of them froze in place, whatever spell had been over him, gone immediately. Ichigo shrugged, and turned off his music again, setting back to cleaning, Ulquiorra frowned at himself. Was he really about to go and join the orange haired man just then? He must've been hypnotized by the motion or something.
Your losing it, Ulquiorra. He thought, turning around to answer the door. Almost immediately he turned back, "If you could stay in here while my guests are over…" Ulquiorra waited for some form of agreement. Ichigo bobbed his head once and Ulquiorra turned around to go and open the door. After a few moments, there was someone knocking forcefully. He sighed. Grimmjow was actually on time for once. He'd expected the bluenette to chicken out when he heard the change of location, but apparently not. He hadn't seemed over it earlier but maybe…
He opened the door, and stepped back, avoiding the fist that Grimmjow had intended for the door. The bluenette pulled back, his horror apparent on his face. Ulquiorra turned around, yeah…the bluenette definitely had some lingering feelings for him. He thought he'd asked Nnoitora to set him up with someone. Hopefully, he wouldn't take too long. The pale man nodded to Halibel, who nodded in return. He rather liked her, she was an excellent script writer. They'd worked together on numerous accounts.
"'Bout time you set up this meeting," Grimmjow grumbled. Ulquiorra turned and looked at him.
"I am not the only one who has the ability to set up a meeting, Grimmjow." He said, watching the bluenette shudder when his name rolled off his tongue. Honestly, for someone who wanted to be rid of the blue haired man affections he certainly enjoyed torturing him. The words that Grimmjow had yelled at him when they'd broke up echoed in his mind, 'You're a fucking sadist, Ulquiorra'. In the months following the breakup, Ulquiorra had tested this theory on multiple partners, and he found that inflicting pain on others didn't rile him up nearly so much as getting the punishment. But he couldn't very well correct Grimmjow's thinking of him now. It'd seem like he was dwelling on it, and he wasn't. Was he? He wasn't very good with things pertaining to love. That's the understatement of the century, his troubled mind grumbled. He sat down, and tried to focus on what Nemu and Halibel was saying.
He saw a flash of orange in the corner of his vision and snapped his head in the direction of the kitchen. Ulquiorra turned his face into a mask of nonchalance and excused himself for a moment he really needed to go and tell Ichigo to just sneak out the back door or something. These people wouldn't be nearly as understanding as him about Ichigo's little day job. He heard a chair skid across the floor behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Grimmjow following him. He spun around before they reached the door and met Grimmjow's gaze.
"Why are you following me?" He asked, sending Ichigo a warning look with his eyes. The orange haired man nodded and went into the pantry. Grimmjow took another few step forward, forcing Ulquiorra back into the kitchen.
Grimmjow cleared his throat, "I wanted to get something off my chest." He said, his cyan eyes narrowing as his look became more intense. "You and me…this…thing going on between us just needs to be buried, alright? It shouldn't happened in the first place, we really can't let this affect our projects, alright?"
Ulquiorra was conscious of Ichigo listening in, and knew he needed to have a talk with him after. He couldn't have this info circulating in the tabloids. "For me, it is no longer an issue, Grimmjow. I think you should just go out, and find yourself a pretty little boy and get laid." The pale man knew he was being cruel, but he had no choice. He didn't like the way Halibel looked between the two, as if they still had a relationship.
Grimmjow stepped forward again, so they were toe to toe. "F.Y.I. I already have a boyfriend. This problem doesn't just lie with me and you know it." Ulquiorra looked at his shoes. Did his face somehow betray his confusion earlier? Grimmjow always managed to scramble his thoughts. That was why he'd gotten rid of him in the first place. "So why don't you find a pretty little boy and fuck him, so we can bury this…tryst for good." The bluenette turned like he was about to walk out.
Ulquiorra ground out, "Is that what you're going to call it? A tryst? That is not what it was and you know it." He was surprised at the amount of venom in his voice. Grimmjow's eyes lit up at the little hint of anger. It was like the stuff was a drug to him.
"And what would you call it?" Grimmjow asked, his voice dropping down an octave. Both of them jumped away from each other when some cans were knocked down in the pantry. He had forgotten Ichigo was in there. He'd probably have to pay him off to keep him quiet or something. "What the fuck was that?"
Ulquiorra coughed to hide his embarrassment. "I got a dog…I locked him up in there because Nemu's afraid of them." He hated the way the lie tasted at the back of his throat, but what would Grimmjow think if he saw the star of their new drama hiding in his pantry?
Grimmjow, thankfully was an idiot. He shrugged and said, "Oh, cool, I didn't know you were a dog person. No wonder we never got along." The bluenette strutted out of the room, and Ichigo practically fell out of the pantry. His cheeks were wet with tears and his chocolate brown eyes looked furious.
"Is that why you told me to hide, huh? So you could tell me to back off or something? Well I'm not gonna. To think I actually felt like we could be friends…I felt sorry for you. But you know what? Fuck you Ulquiorra." Ichigo turned around and went out the back door, slamming it behind him hard enough to make the glass shake.
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