Ichigo looks for love in all the wrong places and in all the wrong ways, earning him quite the reputation. So when longtime crush the sexy-as-all-hell Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez asks him out, he knows what to expect...or does he? AU, oneshot.
Warnings: Yaoi, but nothing too steamy this time, it's all hinted at. Some language. CORNINESS AND FLUFF ABOUND. That's all this time, really. Ready for this positively monstrous one-shot? Cool bro.
All I Want
A Grimmjow/Ichigo AU One-Shot
Ichigo Kurosaki collapsed onto the unfamiliar mattress, panting from exertion.
A slight thud beside him and the resulting quaking of the bed announced that the other on the strange bed had done the same. Espresso-colored eyes cornered to see the lanky body beside his, bare and gleaming with sweat, just as his was. The only difference was the other body had a slackness to it that spoke of satisfaction, and his was still tense, the muscles tight despite the recent physical apex he had just reached.
"Shit Kurosaki, you really are flexible," a silvery voice said, full of mirth. Large hands reached out to entangle themselves in Ichigo's bright sunset hair, the other nuzzling into the locks that still smelled so divine despite the moisture that dampened them.
Ichigo didn't say anything, just hummed in response, and when his partner captured his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss he could've screamed in disappointment.
No fireworks, no cupids singing, not even a tiny spark. There was nothing, just like there always hadn't been. Always.
He broke away first, turning his head to the side and scanning the unfamiliar room for the clothes he had discarded not even an hour earlier. His jeans were laying over a desk chair and his shirt was on the floor right by the door, having been practically ripped off of his body as soon as he had stumbled into the room with the dark-haired, towering high school senior that was now at his side.
He felt a brief heaving in his chest, like he was being choked by the realization of what he had just done. Again. But the pressure released him, leaving his mind and body free to do what he had to do next. Get the hell out of there.
Ichigo pushed himself up to a sitting position, swinging his legs off of the bed and onto the floor. He winced when he felt the sore throbbing in his lower back and backside and the uncomfortable feeling of fluids that were currently drying on his skin. It felt like he needed a long, good shower with the water as hot as he could stand it and then some.
Now that the previous moans and pants had subsided, he could clearly hear the music drifting from downstairs, the bass practically thunderous, and the drunken laughter and drugged cries of the people there.
"Where ya goin'?" the other male questioned lazily, looking up at Ichigo through hooded, beady eyes. The orangette didn't respond at first, snatching his jeans off of the floor and wriggling into the tight things.
"Back downstairs," he muttered, grabbing his t-shirt by the door and tugging it on over his head. The fabric helped him to feel much less exposed, like by covering all of the crimson and lavender marks that littered his usually flawless, bronzed skin it could erase their existence. Like he hadn't just spent the last forty-five minutes being marked with them.
You know, people always say it's different for men and women, for boys and girls, that the male sex can have intimate physical relations with another person and not really feel used or dirty or cheap, that people won't attach the stigma to them that they're easy and therefore, not truly a worthwhile person.
Ichigo can tell you that that is far from the truth.
"'kay, bring me back a beer, would ya?" the dark-haired male reached beside the bed to pick up a carton of cigarettes, plucking one out and placing it between thin lips before lighting it. Ichigo frowned and swung open the door to the suddenly too small room, slipping on his sandals on the way. He didn't respond before walking out into the hallway.
Nnoitra Jiruga. Another mistake to put down on his very long list.
The hallway was hazy with translucent smoke, almost like the kind of fog one would see hovering over a Scottish moor, except that kind of natural mist is beautiful and clean and this smoke burned Ichigo's eyes and nostrils and he had to resist from pulling the neck of his t-shirt over his nose as he navigated down the long passageway. There were a few couples that had come up here to get away from all the hustle and bustle of the party downstairs and they were intertwined throughout the narrow hall, pressed against the wall and mouths locked onto each other's supple flesh.
Ichigo felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him and he made his way to the stairs leading to the main floor as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking at those passionate embraces, those starry, glazed eyes that closed in bliss and lust.
It was all he had ever wanted.
He trudged down the stairs, passing by a group of sophomore girls from his school that each let out a sharp giggle as he did so. He saw from the corner of his eye as they all turned to each other, whispering and laughing and pointing. Everyone knew what happened when he went upstairs with someone, especially someone as lascivious as Nnoitra. And maybe a year or two ago, this would have bothered him, but not now. This happened every day, and he liked to think he had built up an immunity.
That's what you can expect when you're considered to be your high school's biggest tramp, slut, whore, skank, whatever. Ichigo's heard it all before. And his reputation wasn't exactly unearned, so he couldn't blame people for thinking that. Hell, he'd thought it himself plenty of times.
And yet somehow, he just can't stop doing the very thing that had earned him the notoriety of being easy. Maybe it sounds terribly cliche, terribly pathetic, but Ichigo keeps looking for that one that he actually feels something with when they kiss, even if it's just a spark. That would be so much better than the empty feeling when he locks lips with any reasonably attractive male in his high school. And there's this moment, when he first leans in to kiss someone, that all of this hope wells up in chest and it makes him feel higher than any drug ever could.
Yes, it's stupid and maybe it makes him something worse than a slut, someone who desperately needs attention and feeds off those who give it to him, even if it's only for a few hours.
But Ichigo's father is constantly at the clinic part of their home, and his sisters have gotten older and interested in soccer and boys respectively and maybe it's just nice to feel needed. Being wanted is possibly the best feeling in the entire world in his eyes.
Tearing his chocolate brown eyes away from the amused and knowing looks the sophomore girls were giving him, he scanned the crowd for a head of familiar sea foam hair. He felt terrible for abandoning his best friend almost an hour ago to go with Nnoitra upstairs, especially since he had dragged Neliel there in the first place, excited for the prospects the party promised while the girl had only just wanted to go see the new romantic comedy.
Ichigo weaved his way through the throng of young bodies both gyrating and still, passing through the living room of the stranger's home and the kitchen. He could see a couple of girls his own age and a thin, reedy kid that had to be in college rolling on E and all crawling on top of each other on the couch as they doused each other with water, liquid dousing their overheated flesh.
He kept a keen eye out for the tall, buxom figure that was Neliel, but he didn't catch sight of her brightly colored hair anywhere amongst the crowd of party-goers. Only more knowing looks and winks sent his way that he desperately tried to ignore.
In the kitchen there were two boys, one blonde and one with hair of silver, leaning on the counter and handing out drinks in those infamous red plastic cups. Ichigo felt his stomach drop as one of them nudged the other in the ribs and nodded towards him, causing the silver-haired boy's ever-present grin to widen.
"Maa maa Kurosaki, now tha' ya are done wit' Jiruga, fancy givin' me a show?" the boy asked almost mockingly in a lilting tone, cocking his head.
Ichigo wondered what he had ever seen in Gin Ichimaru to make him sleep with the guy not once, but twice. Perhaps he had convinced himself that the silver-haired boy was too aloof to really show his feelings the first time around.
See? Pathetic. Don't say he didn't warn you.
Ichigo scowled heavily, thin, orange brows pulling together, and not even bothering to respond, he turned away to face the sliding glass door that led to the house's seemingly peaceful backyard. He knew from past experience that it would do no good to acknowledge people when they acted like that. It was if when you were telling them they were the most vile creature on the earth it translated in their minds that you wanted them, right then and there.
He pushed the sliding door aside on its track, feeling the cool night air brush over his heated face like a long-missed lover's embrace. Sighing involuntarily, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes. The music and chatter faded away until they were nothing but a dull, distant roar, the bass of the rap song that was playing making the glass Ichigo's back was pressed against hum with vibrations.
He was glad no one was out in the backyard but him, due to the cooling weather. Here he could have a brief reprieve before having to face the stares and whispers once more as he looked for Neliel and the slightly chilled, autumn night air felt so nice against his skin, the skin that was still stained with the marks of someone whom had only used him for not even an hour of entertainment. Someone he had been convinced before that hour could possibly have genuine feelings for him.
God, he really was an idiot.
What had he been thinking? Why did he always go for the boys that whispered pretty words in his ear about how sexy he was, the words they had probably said to a million other people before him? Why couldn't he ever meet someone that was interested in him? Not just what fleeting physical pleasure he could give them?
But these were all questions Ichigo had asked himself an infinite amount of times before, and ones that he could never answer.
Perhaps it was time to give up being a hopeless romantic. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be for him...
"Now, what are ya doing out here all alone, Kurosaki?"
Ichigo jumped about a foot into the air, toffee brown eyes snapping open and the back of his head banging against the glass door. Wincing, he rubbed the back of his head as he glared at the person whom had dared to disturb him.
The brightest of blue swam into his vision, perfectly complementing lightly tanned skin and a grin so predatory and white, it glowed in the darkness of the night. Ichigo felt his front teeth bite into his lower lip hard at the sight that he so abhorred and lived for at the same time.
Now if there was one person that Ichigo wished was the one who liked him for him (tragic, yes), it would be Grimmjow. And if there was one person that Ichigo hated more than anyone else, it was Grimmjow.
As you may be able to tell, they had always had quite the interesting relationship, ever since the blunette had accidentally bumped him into some seniors he had been trying to chat up in his freshman year. Ichigo had retaliated by tripping Grimmjow in their shared math class the next day, leading the then fellow freshman to spill his soda all over his white shirt. And this had led to a sort of lazy back and forth between the two in the three years that had passed since. They had never really gotten close, they had always remained distant acquaintances that only spoke to hurl half-hearted insults and tease each other.
But Ichigo couldn't deny that Grimmjow was undoubtedly the sexiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. Those too intense cyan orbs that glittered like sapphires in just the right light and perfectly imperfect turquoise locks that fell over his forehead and over the nape of his neck had him mentally writhing in lust every time he saw the other senior, even though that had become much less frequent as of late.
There were certain things about Grimmjow he knew that he shouldn't, like that the senior had applied to several art schools, being an insanely talented photographer (if the camera that was always around that strong, tanned neck wasn't a clue to that already), and that he had lost his parents in a house fire when he was just thirteen, leading him to live with his uncle Sosuke, the richest man in their town. Yes, Ichigo knew all these things and more. And he shouldn't. He shouldn't have noticed that Cherry Coke was Grimmjow's favorite ever since he had prompted for the then freshman to spill it on himself and he should definitely have never noticed that the boy had never had a serious relationship except for recently (and this was why he should have never known these things.)
And there was something about the blue-haired boy that kept Ichigo from working his usual charm. He couldn't make his eyes glaze over with obvious want and bite and lick his lips and run his hands up those muscular arms to rest on broad shoulders, no, never could he do that when Grimmjow was around, not even to other people. For some reason Ichigo could never fathom, he could only scowl (which must have been oh-so-very-attractive) and reply snarkily to all of Grimmjow's teasing when the gorgeous boy was around. A fabulous thing to do when you have been nursing an infatuation of sorts with that boy, however irritating he may be.
"Don't sneak up on me like that, asshole," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the sliding glass door. His narrowed espresso eyes traveled over Grimmjow's form, taking note of the well-worn leather jacket and ripped jeans that would have looked trite on anyone else but the blunette, and of course, the gray camera that rested against what must have been a chest carved by angels under a thin, white cotton t-shirt.
"I didn't, ya just had yer eyes closed," Grimmjow retorted self-righteously, his cocky grin spreading to an almost impossible width, making Ichigo's heart stutter and his eyes dart away for some relief from the blinding phosphorescence that was the other boy's set of shark-sharp teeth. When he didn't respond, Grimmjow continued.
"What are ya doin' out here all by yerself, anyway? I thought ya were the type to be chattin' it up in there," he nodded his head behind Ichigo, where the party still raged on, teenagers drinking and smoking themselves to death. Ichigo frowned heavily, lines appearing on his usually smooth forehead and his gaze dropped to his sandal-clad feet, out of season with the fall weather approaching rapidly.
He didn't know if Grimmjow exactly meant what his comment had sounded like, but it still made Ichigo's heart clench. The pure shame that the blunette could possibly see that he been used and thrown away like such, like what had been done to him so many times before...well, it was enough to form a knot in his throat that he had to swallow down a couple of times before he could answer.
"I got tired," he replied simply, his baritone voice hoarse as he refused to meet Grimmjow's eyes.
"Tch, all the parties I've seen ya at, I've never seen ya tired," Grimmjow remarked, pulling a white stick from his pocket and a bright orange lighter that he used to light the cigarette after he had placed it between his perfectly shaped lips.
Ichigo felt his eyes narrow a little bit as he stared up at the tall senior, that broad frame towering over his slouched five foot-nine height. What did exactly Grimmjow mean by that? Did he mean that he actually paid attention to what Ichigo was doing?
A tiny spark of excitement flickered in Ichigo's stomach at the notion that Grimmjow watched him when he wasn't looking, that he watched closely enough and enough times to make a statement like that.
Grimmjow exhaled, withdrawing the carcinogen-packed cigarette from his mouth to let his smoke-filled breath cloud the air, the gray, translucent stuff almost pretty as it twirled and curled around itself against the backdrop of the almost starless midnight blue sky.
"Want one?" he asked, gesturing towards Ichigo with the cancer stick before placing it back to its place between his lips and the orangette briefly reflected on how he had never been jealous of a cigarette before then and that the two of them were having a somewhat civil conversation, even if they had hardly said anything thus far.
"No...thank you," Ichigo shook his head and Grimmjow nodded before his blue stare flitted over to stare at the moderately-sized backyard, complete with a child's swing set and sand box. Ichigo took the time to visually devour every bit of the boy's profile, his strong chin and sharp nose that looked like they had been the inspiration for many a Greek statue.
Why were they standing there, again?
However, before Ichigo could say anything he was caught off guard by the solid surface he had been leaning on suddenly gone. His balance left him within a milisecond, causing him to fall back where the sliding glass door had once been, hands flailing to try and grasp anything solid that could stop his descent to the hard ground.
Just when he thought he was about a second away from meeting the floor face first, a large hand wrapped around his bicep and gripped it firmly. Ichigo felt the sharp pull from the hand as he was brought forward and safely onto his feet once more, the hand that he could now identify as Grimmjow's still on the bare part of his upper arm, resulting in him holding back a shudder at the contact.
"Watch where the hell yer goin', Ichimaru," Grimmjow growled out, still not letting go of Ichigo's arm as the latter turned his head to see Gin leaning casually against the frame of the sliding door, his slitted eyes and too wide grin mocking the two of them as he 'looked' in the orangette's direction.
"Oh, Ichi, already moved on from Nnoi, I see? He'll be terribly disappointed," Gin chuckled softly before sighing. "Well, I was goin' to have a smoke, but I wouldn't want ta interrupt the two of ya. Have fun." And with that he grasped the handle of the sliding door with one bony hand, closing it and turning around and walking back to his position at the kitchen counter with the blonde boy, all visible due to the transparent glass.
Grimmjow suddenly dropped Ichigo's arm like it had burned him, taking a step back and lifting his cigarette back to his mouth. Ichigo felt his face start to burn with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Embarrassment.
It was possibly because the only person he ever did feel embarrassed around was the gorgeous blunette, the only one that could make him feel tongue-tied and unsure and downright unworthy.
"I hate that guy," Grimmjow scoffed, scowling heavily before taking a deep drag and exhaling it through his nose, the image not unlike one of a raging bull blowing proverbial steam out of its nostrils.
"Yeah..." Ichigo trailed off, unsure of what to say. Should he thank the other senior for rescuing from bashing his face into the ground? Or would that be too desperate? Or if he didn't, would that come off as bitchy? Ugh, so many things to think about and in the presence of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Ichigo was completely stripped of his natural ease and allure, the personality that had both men and women flocking to him by the dozen (though he only was attracted to the former.)
It was very frustrating to say the very least. There was quiet for another moment, the only sound being the faint music from inside the house.
"So...," Grimmjow started, making eye contact with Ichigo once more, effectively silencing whatever the orangette had been thinking about before. "You and Jiruga, huh?"
Ichigo felt his heart drop and shatter somewhere inside of his stomach, and he bit his lip and looked away from that cyan gaze in order to hide the blossom pink that was staining his cheekbones and most likely making the slight dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose even more apparent. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he had blushed.
"No...not really," he refuted, still refusing to meet Grimmjow's eyes. He wouldn't, he couldn't. Not when he would most likely find the same either scandalized or cruelly amused look he saw in everyone else's. "Hey, have you seen Nel? I can't find her anywhere," he blurted out, desperately trying to change the subject. He glanced up to see that Grimmjow's sapphire orbs had flickered to look up at the sky as he rubbed his jaw with one broad hand, obviously thinking about Ichigo's inquiry.
"Yeah, I saw 'er in the basement 'bout an hour ago," he finally said, looking back down and his scowl lightened into an almost pleasant look, like...like he saw something he liked. It was so out of place compared to the irreverent, bored glares or the manic grins that were usually showcased on his handsome face.
"Oh." Ichigo could've slapped himself for being so stupid as to not check the basement, where Neliel had likely sought refuge among the more relaxed party-goers. "Well, thanks. I should probably-" he was saying as he turned to pull the sliding door aside but a hand on his wrist stopped him, the same hand that had earlier saved him from falling.
"Wait a sec, Kuros-...Ichigo," Grimmjow commanded, his permanently husky voice simultaneously causing Ichigo to send a confused look, one eyebrow raised, his way and an involuntary shudder to run down the orangette's spine. The fact that the blue-haired senior had called him by his first name was almost enough to make him doubt that this encounter was real, that this wasn't some amazing dream his mind played while he was sound asleep.
Grimmjow's eyes were positively luminescent, full of something Ichigo had no name for. It wasn't quite mirth and it wasn't quite lust (something he was adept at spotting), it was something in between, a kind of restrained eagerness that made that forever blue even brighter, making them glow in the dark as his warm touch didn't leave Ichigo's arm.
"Yes?" Ichigo questioned, his voice coming out much softer than he ever meant it to.
"What are ya doing tomorrow night?"
Now Ichigo had been asked this question many, many a time before and how he usually responded was with a coy smile, a wink, a "well, you, of course."
But not this time.
He felt his lips part into a silent gasp, seeing that Grimmjow was completely serious and was he asking what Ichigo thought he was asking? His mouth opened and closed several times, useless sputters the only thing spilling forth.
"W-well, n-nothing, I guess," he answered truthfully. He felt an excitement well up in his chest and throat, seizing his heart and making it beat thrice times as fast, but he suppressed as much as he could.
There was no way that Grimmjow was-
"Wanna go out with me tomorrow, then?"
"Like a date?" Ichigo had asked before he could stop himself, the words pushing past his lips effortlessly. Grimmjow's own full, Cupid's bow lips spread into a smile, showcasing his sharper than average canines and he shrugged his shoulders underneath his leather jacket.
"Duh, kitten," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ichigo dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from swooning rather pathetically at the pet name. He had heard the blunette use it on his conquests throughout the years and it always had the same reaction, however random (and a tad bit strange) it may be.
Determined to regain some pride that he had lost in his tragically blushing virgin-like reaction to Grimmjow asking him out, Ichigo straightened up, running a hand through his nearly shoulder-length, shaggy tangerine locks, flashing his best bewitching mile that made those exposed to it weak at the knees and send their heart a-fluttering. It was almost as good as Grimmjow's, but whereas the other senior boy's smile was mostly predatory and all teeth, Ichigo's was gentler and it reached his now sparkling iced mocha latte eyes.
He placed his hand on the sliding door handle, pulling it back and stepping through the portal, almost as if he were going to walk away and say nothing else. But then he cocked his head over his shoulder, that smile that could send anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, to their knees still on his handsome face.
"Pick me up at seven," Ichigo affirmed and before Grimmjow could blink an eye, he was already in the kitchen, walking past Gin and the blonde boy from before. However, in his euphoric state (because Grimmjow Jaeger-fucking-jaques had just asked out him on a date and wasn't that just insane, because he truly thought that the gorgeous boy had found him to be insufferable) he almost missed what the silver-haired teenager was saying as he passed by.
"Maa, 'm jus' so happy that Grimmy has found someone ta use ta help 'im get over Mila. Poor thin', she broke his heart," Gin giggled softly, the air carrying his words to Ichigo's ear, where they immediately curtailed and aimed for his heart.
He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen like one of Medusa's statues, his eyes widened to epic proportions.
Of course. He should have known better than to think that someone like Grimmjow, talented and incredibly god-like in every way, would ever want a serious relationship with someone like him, whose only talent was in the bedroom.
Ichigo turned his head to look over his shoulder once more, catching sight of Grimmjow's blurred, shadowy profile through the glass sliding door, the bud of his cigarette the only light that illuminated his perfect face, casting shadows on everything else and making the blunette look like some kind of divine entity, light against the darkness. Ichigo bit down on his lip, resolved.
Maybe he would never be able to be with Grimmjow in the way he wanted, but he'd be damned if he was going to let the one chance to be close to the boy he had admired from afar for three years slip by.
The following night, Ichigo was in front of the floor-length mirror in his bedroom, turning to the side and then to the other, trying to see himself from every possible angle.
He was dressed to kill in a long-sleeved black, Bauhaus shirt that was slightly too big on him, so much so that on his left side the sleeve slid down to expose the creamy, peachy skin of his shoulder. He had paired that with tight (obviously) dark gray, distressed jeans and bright orange Converse sneakers to match his hair, of course, which he had spent a good thirty minutes tousling to imperfect perfection. He had even put in the nose stud he never really wore in his left nostril, which he had gotten pierced on his fifteenth birthday. The metal thing glinted in the dim lighting of his room, drawing your eye towards his expressive, deep fawn brown orbs and it even made the freckles he so abhorred look like they were meant to be there.
Long story made short, he was drop dead sexy. Like, even more so than usual.
Ichigo glanced over at the clock on the nightstand table, seeing that it was already seven and Grimmjow should have been there already and as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Grabbing his phone and wallet off of the dresser, Ichigo made a mad dash down the stairs and to the door, silently thanking any god that was listening that his father was working late in the clinic and his sisters had both gone to sleepover at their friends' house.
Once in front of the door, Ichigo skidded to a halt. Taking a deep breath and checking himself out once more in the hallway mirror and smoothing a hair that was out of place, he finally reached out to turn the doorknob just as the doorbell rang once again.
The sight that greeted him nearly knocked him right out of those bright orange Converses.
Grimmjow was standing there, clad in a black button-up shirt with the top three buttons undone, showcasing a brilliant cut of collarbone and defined muscle that contrasted perfectly with the dark color. Over that he was wearing a dark gray (was that cashmere?) sweater that had been pushed up to reveal his toned, bronze forearms. Furthermore he was wearing dark-washed jeans that looked like they had been tailor made to make his ass look as divine as possible and Ichigo hadn't even seen the other boy's backside that evening. And to top it all off, under his arm he carried what looked to be a black motorcycle helmet with blue flame embellishment and...and...
"Is that for me?" Ichigo cried out like a child, pointing towards the dark brown, heart-shaped box that was tucked under Grimmjow's arm along with the helmet.
It seemed he had a difficult time controlling himself when he was around the blunette.
He tore his eyes away to look up to the blunette in question and if Ichigo had been a pre-pubescent girl he would've squealed at how utterly adorable Grimmjow looked as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked up and away from him.
"Yeah, flowers were too girly and I know how much ya like chocolate, so...here," Grimmjow thrust the heart-shaped box, complete with red ribbon and the size of Ichigo's torso into his hands, where he devoured the sight of the embroidered gold label, recognizing it immediately as the good stuff.
Saying that Ichigo liked chocolate would be the understatement of the...some time period that is really, really long. He lived for chocolate, especially the kind with caramel in the middle. Licking his lips at the thought of biting into those while watching bad reality TV, Ichigo looked back up to see Grimmjow staring back at him with avid sapphire irises sparkling with hope. It was such a strange sight to see.
"Thank you," Ichigo almost whispered, hoping that his gratitude at receiving something so thoughtful came across.
No one had ever given him anything like this. He had been the person who always hated Valentine's Day just because he knew no one would give him anything, not even when they were trying to get into his pants because they had heard that he was just that easy. And he certainly had never been together long enough with someone in order to feel comfortable buying them something strictly reserved for couples.
In short, Ichigo was stunned, blithe, and distressed. He knew he didn't deserve someone like Grimmjow, someone who randomly remembered something like Ichigo liking chocolate and turned it into a nicer than nice gesture. And he knew that Grimmjow wasn't here for anything other than a brief fling, that's what everyone came to him for, especially when they had just broken off a longtime relationship, as apparently Grimmjow had just done with that tall and busty dark-skinned girl, Mila.
But don't think for one second that he wasn't going to enjoy every single second of that evening, the evening he had been fantasizing about for three years now.
"Yer welcome, kitten," Grimmjow said, his normally cocky self returning upon seeing how obviously Ichigo loved the box of chocolates. This was only cemented as the orange-haired boy flushed in pleasure at the ridiculous pet name. "Ya ready to go?" he asked, jerking his head back to where Ichigo's driveway lined up in front of the left side of the modest house.
Ichigo nodded, reluctantly setting down the box of chocolates on the foyer table before stepping out onto the small porch and closing the door behind him. In the close proximity to Grimmjow he could smell the other high school senior's scent. It wasn't a specific cologne that Ichigo could decipher, but there was definitely a mixture of sandalwood and mint and something piquant and spicy and another something that was undeniably Grimmjow that had him turning his head away in order to resist the urge to bury his head into the crook of Grimmjow's neck and breathe in that addictive scent like there was no tomorrow.
They walked down the steps and onto the driveway where Ichigo almost stopped in his tracks upon seeing the Triumph Thunderbird 1600 painted a royal blue sitting in his driveway. Of course he knew that Grimmjow drove a motorcycle, a beautiful one at that (even if he knew nothing of cars or bikes), but he hadn't actually thought about the fact that if Grimmjow was picking him up then he would have to...ride it.
"Don't tell me yer a bike virgin?" came Grimmjow's mock from above and behind him, the boy's hot breath ruffling some of Ichigo's orange strands of hair and rattling his nerves so much so that he clenched his fists and scowled darkly up at the blunette. "Guess tha's a yes," Grimmjow chuckled and proffered the helmet with blue flames that had once been under his arm. "I only got one, so ya get to wear mine fer now."
"No," Ichigo folded his arms and began to open his mouth to say that he wasn't about to have the other student risk his life by not wearing a helmet because he had to wear it (not to mention, it would mess up his hair) but before he could even get one word out, Grimmjow shoved the bulky helmet onto his head unceremoniously, leading him to squawk indignantly.
Ichigo tried to pull back, but Grimmjow's grip was like iron as he buckled the heavy thing under the orangette's chin then sliding the visor down so that Ichigo could hardly see anything through the tinted plastic except for Grimmjow's glow in the dark eyes and teeth as he smiled down at him.
"There," he said, as if proud of himself. "Beautiful," he murmured giving Ichigo one last past on his helmeted head before swinging himself over the bike's seat and gripping the handlebars in his gloved, capable hands.
Momentarily stunned, Ichigo took a moment to recover from Grimmjow (whether he meant it or not) calling him beautiful before sidling over to the Thunderbird as it growled to life as Grimmjow turned the ignition.
"She likes ya," he exclaimed over the loud purring of the bike's engine as Ichigo carefully lowered himself to the seat, for the first time in his life nervous about being so physically close to someone as he pressed himself against Grimmjow's back.
Oh yeah, that sweater was definitely cashmere. Ichigo had never felt fabric so soft in his life and the way it lay over hard muscle only served to make him even more appreciative of how nicely Grimmjow dressed. It was a nice change from the tight jeans and graphic t-shirt males his age usually donned.
"She?" he questioned, putting his hands onto the blunette's broad shoulders, loving the way they tensed just the tiniest bit under his touch. That was until Grimmjow's gloved hands encased his own and pulled them down so that Ichigo was forced to wrap his arms around the taller boy's waist, feeling the body heat that Grimmjow exuded even in the crisp, autumn weather.
Said human furnace shot a devious grin over his shoulder, eyes wild and bright.
"Yeah, Pantera. She's my baby," he clarified and Ichigo rolled his eyes behind his visor. It was so typical of macho men like Grimmjow to name their motor vehicles, especially ridiculous names like Pantera. What did that even mean, anyway?
However, he was soon startled out of his train of thoughts when Grimmjow kicked the stand and the royal blue Thunderbird was suddenly in motion, much faster than what Ichigo had expected and he tightened his hold on the boy in front of him as they sped out of the driveway of his house and onto the main road.
He swore he would have heard Grimmjow laughing if it weren't for all the racket the motorcycle made as they weaved their way in and out of traffic, all at a speed that was absolutely, positively mind-numbingly exhilarating.
Ichigo stepped off of the bike, fiddling with the strap on the helmet as he tried to regain his balance. He felt a little dizzy and like if he had eaten beforehand there would have been hell to pay, but all in all riding on the motorcycle with Grimmjow had been one of the best experiences of his life.
"Let me help you with tha'," Grimmjow offered, amusement showing in his sapphire eyes. Ichigo let him take over unclasping the helmet and pulling the blasted thing off of his head, revealing a shock of orange hair that had been made even more tousled despite the usual flattening effect of such headgear.
"That," Ichigo took a deep breath and looked up to the blue-haired senior, bliss showing in his coffee-brown eyes and the way his white, perfect teeth were showcased in a wide smile that would have had any man or woman positively melting at the sight. "Was. Amazing," he finished, pressing his chilled hands to his face, which was warm from both excitement and being encased in the bulky helmet for about twenty minutes.
Grimmjow didn't say anything, just let his lips quirk up into a smirk that looked like it was meant to carved onto the bust of an angel.
They stood like that for a moment or two, looking into pools of honey chocolate and diamond blue respectively before Ichigo broke away, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he remembered himself. And how much it was going to hurt when Grimmjow stopped returning his phone calls and would ignore him in the school hallways, just like all of the others.
Except it wasn't going to just like all of the others. Though he hadn't even been intimate with Grimmjow as of yet, Ichigo felt much, much more with the blue-haired, god-like, beautiful senior.
That spark that he was always looking for when he engaged in 'activities' with other men? He already had it, right there, and all he had to do was just look at the boy.
And soon it would be gone.
Desperately trying to tear himself away from his thoughts, Ichigo looked up to the place Grimmjow had brought him to and felt his eyebrows raise and jaw drop as far as it could go.
Suigetsu was most likely the most expensive restaurant in town, serving gourmet Western-inspired cuisine and with a reservation list so long that it could take you months to get a seat and that was if someone canceled. Closing his mouth, Ichigo turned on his heel to look incredulously at the boy who had brought him here, who was just removing his gloves nonchalantly until he looked up and saw Ichigo's disbelieving expression.
"Wha's wrong?" Grimmjow asked, thin blue brows furrowing on his flawless forehead. He pushed his gloves inside his pocket and walked up to stand next to Ichigo. He looked so genuinely confused that Ichigo felt terrible about what he was going to say next. Leave it to him to fuck up their date. And to not dress near appropriately enough to go to the nicest eatery in all of Karakura.
"I...I didn't bring enough mo-," he started but Grimmjow cut him off with a sweeping hand gesture.
"Seriously, kitten? Ya think I'd ask ya out and not pay?" the blunette asked as if offended. Ichigo frowned at that.
"I'm not a girl, Grimmjow," he stated firmly.
He wouldn't mention the fact that when potential partners paid for dinner it made him feel like a cheap whore.
Grimmjow just barked a laugh, laying a hand on Ichigo's shoulder that made the latter feel like he had just run a marathon as a sweat broke out over his body and his heart started to beat double time.
"Relax, Ichigo. I don't have tha' kind of money, either. My uncle Sosuke owns the place, so lucky us, eh?"
Ichigo was too blithe at the other boy using his first name again after three long years of being called 'Kurosaki' that he barely registered what the rest of the sentence was. Grimmjow moved his hand to rest in between the orangette's shoulder blades as he guided both of them into Suigetsu's revolving doors, where on the other side they were met with a hostess stand and a young woman who seemed to love the color purple standing behind it.
The restaurant itself was not what Ichigo was expecting. He wouldn't have been surprised to walk into a place like this and find it to be rather cold with white-washed walls and bleached white tablecloths and chairs and decor, but instead he was pleasantly dazed by the warm decor of the place with its dark cherry wood furniture and ivory tablecloths and the kind of dim, golden lighting that makes everything look like it sparkles.
"Oh, well hello, Mr. Jaegerjaques!" the woman at the hostess stand squealed excitedly, obviously knowing Grimmjow though his uncle Sosuke, though that didn't stop her from leaning over the stand in a very obvious way to best display her modest cleavage to the blue-haired boy that must have been ten years her junior. Ichigo wanted to grab Grimmjow's hand and stare the woman down, let her know that the man was his, but he couldn't. Because soon, it would be as if this night had never even happened. He fought the urge to sigh heavily and instead looked around to see the restaurant was absolutely packed, as it well should be on a Saturday night. How would they ever get a table, even if Grimmjow's uncle was the owner?
"Cirucci," Grimmjow greeted rather unenthusiastically. "If ya don't mind, Ichigo and I are starvin'."
"Oh, right, of course!" the woman named Cirucci giggled distastefully before walking out from behind the hostess stand, hitching up her skirt in what she obviously thought was a discreet way. But not to Ichigo, because he had played that role numerous times before...
Was that really how he came across? Desperate? Pathetic?
Cirucci led them to not a table, but a booth in the very far corner of the restaurant, away from the front door, bar, and kitchen, the best spot in the entire place but when Ichigo sent Grimmjow a questioning look, the boy just replied "I called ahead, had ta make this night special, yeah?" to which Ichigo felt the back of his neck heat up and Cirucci clear her throat, obviously upset that Mr. Jaegerjaques wasn't paying enough attention to her.
There were menus, silverware, and wine glasses already set up on the table as he and Grimmjow took opposite sides, the latter facing the back of the restaurant while Ichigo was provided with a view of the entire place.
"Our specials today are on the top of the menu, under 'specials', duh," Cirucci laughed as if she had just made an actual joke. "And your server will be right with you. Call me if you need anything." She said this all to Grimmjow who didn't even bother to look up from the menu he was now perusing when he grunted in acknowledgement. Flicking her deep purple ringlets as she walked away, the woman swung her hips in an obvious swaying motion just in case Grimmjow was looking at her as she went back to her little stand at the front of Suigetsu.
Ichigo was pleased to see that Grimmjow's blue orbs were glued to the menu as they scanned the items, mindlessly picking up a piece of lint off of his sweater, his cashmere dark charcoal sweater that made the man look like he had just stepped out of a catalogue, if the male models in it were to have blue hair, that is. Ichigo raised an absent hand to trace over his exposed shoulder that suddenly felt more exposed than ever. He really wished that Grimmjow had told him where they were going, because he at least wouldn't have worn bright orange Converse sneakers, no matter how well they went with his Bauhaus shirt and distressed, gray jeans.
He felt so inadequate, sitting there with the student from his high school that could have passed for a Greek god and yet was still unbelievably talented, producing art that spoke to Ichigo on so many different levels with just a piece of plastic and a dark room.
Grimmjow could have had anyone in their high school wrapped around his finger, there were dozens upon dozens of students who would die just to be at his beck and call. Though it may sound terribly pathetic, like everything else he's said so far about the blunette, Ichigo was actually happy in some twisted way that Grimmjow had chosen him as his rebound from his ex-girlfriend, the fuck that helped him get over the girl that was somewhat of an exotic beauty from what Ichigo had seen of her in the school hallways.
He wondered if Grimmjow had ever taken her to his uncle's restaurant.
Who was he kidding? Of course he had. This wasn't going to be their special place or anything like that, just their only place.
Ichigo could've sworn that if wouldn't look a total spaz doing so, he would slap himself at that moment for acting like such a whiny, pitiful preteen girl. It was pathetic how awfully he was pining for this blue-haired sex god.
Ichigo Kurosaki didn't wait around for people to approach him (though they did, anyway.) No, he went after things he wanted, the people he found attractive, and he got them, if only for a night.
He would have Grimmjow that night, and be done with him. He would get that deliciously sculpted, muscled wet dream out of his system, if it was the last thing he did.
"Ichigo, you okay?"
The sound of Grimmjow's voice asking that and the snapping of fingers in front of his face brought Ichigo back to Earth, realizing that he had been staring at the former for the past few minutes with an unseeing gaze and not responding to any of Grimmjow's questions.
"What?" Ichigo shook his head, clearing any remaining thoughts of bedding the blunette that night from his head, however hard it was. "Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked, reaching for the glass of water at his right and taking a sip before putting it back down, the cold liquid helping him to snap out of his angst and lust-induced daze.
"I was askin' what ya were thinkin' about eating," Grimmjow said, frowning, something like concern pooling in his royal blue irises. "Are ya sure yer okay? You looked kinda...zoned out there fer a minute or two."
"Yeah, I'm fine!" Ichigo said a little too enthusiastically (again, what happened to his usual charm whenever Grimmjow was around?). "I was just...thinking..." he trailed off, hoping Grimmjow would believe him considering it was the truth, but the other senior boy's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Yes, I do that, you know," Ichigo insisted tersely, folding his arms across his chest and causing the shoulder of his shirt to slip down even more, revealing a a greenish-purple bite mark on his collarbone that he had entirely forgotten about until Grimmjow's vision locked onto the offending blemish on Ichigo's presumably otherwise flawless, lightly tanned skin (and that presumption would be wrong, of course, because Nnoitra Jiruga was rather rough in the sack.)
Ichigo followed Grimmjow's line of vision, immediately flushing, the bridge of his nose and cheekbones turning a gentle pink as he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, only for it to fall down once more, even further this time and unveiling even more crimson and lavender stains upon his skin.
The shame began to eat away inside of him yet again.
He couldn't stand Grimmjow's eyes on him, witnessing what others had done to him, inferring what he had done to others. It just wasn't fair what the boy could do to him without even trying, making him feel so entirely worthless and so blithely blissful at the same time. But at that point, Ichigo felt like he had been stripped naked in a room full of people and left there for them to all stare at. It scared him how vulnerable being around Grimmjow made him feel.
Huffing in frustration, he yanked his shirt up so that it lay awkwardly on his shoulder. Not exactly fashionable, but it covered everything and that was what mattered at that point.
"So, what are ya gonna study when ya go to university?" Grimmjow asked, his tone easy despite his rough velvet voice, as if what had just happened wasn't one of, if not the, most embarrassing moments of Ichigo's life. And the latter felt a swell of gratitude at that. Any other date he had had in the past would have pointed it out, made him feel worse. And Grimmjow was far from the most kindhearted person in the world, Ichigo had seen what he had done to several male students' faces if they had insulted his masculinity because he was bisexual or, God forbid, his precious natural hair color (Ichigo could relate.) So for him to try and make the orangette forget about the awkward moment that had just transpired made Ichigo's chest feel tight and achy in the best way.
Still, he had really hoped this question wouldn't come up.
"I don't know yet," he answered honestly. Truly, he had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life after high school.
"Well, what do ya like to do?" Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, pushing back those rebellious strands only for them to fall back on his forehead. Ichigo had to bite his lip from giggling at the sight as he did it once more, with the same results.
"I, uh, I guess I like to help people, protect them," he replied, surprising even himself with the answer. That notion had just always been at the back of his mind until then. He glanced up to see Grimmjow's lips slightly pulled into what could be taken a for a soft smile, one without a hint of mania or cockiness. It was truly a sight to behold, and it made Ichigo breathless.
"Well, what 'bout becoming a doctor?" Grimmjow suggested, but Ichigo immediately shook his head.
"My dad's a doctor. He runs a clinic and it looks like just about the hardest job there is. I couldn't live with myself if I couldn't help someone."
"Hmm...what about a police officer?" Ichigo shook his head at that too.
"This may sound weird, but it kind of seems like a boring job." At Grimmjow's raised eyebrow, Ichigo leaned forward, prepared to explain. "Like if I were going to be a cop, I would want to be where the action is, busting big criminals, murderers, rapists, drug lords, you know? I don't want to be sitting in a squad car in a speed trap for the rest of my life," he elaborated, using his fingers to mimic a gun when he talked about busting big criminals. When he was done, Grimmjow reclined into his seat, folding his arms across his broad chest.
"Ya've got a point there, Ichigo. I never thought 'bout it like tha'," he said thoughtfully. "What'a 'bout a DEA or FBI agent?"
"Then I wouldn't really feel like I was helping anyone, just going on wild goose chases for criminals who probably aren't even worth the time," Ichigo said, his brown sugar eyes lighting up in his passion which earned him a smirk from Grimmjow.
"Well, what else do ya like? What are ya good at?"
"Nothing," Ichigo answered automatically, scoffing a little.
"Ya don't like anything or yer not good at anything?" Grimmjow's smirk fell into a deep frown that didn't suit his face at all, especially compared to the smug expression from a second before.
"More so the last one," Ichigo chuckled a little, but completely convinced of what he had said. Yes, his grades in school were above average, but he wasn't amazing at anything awesome like photography. He had no real knack for anything.
The blunette across from him unfolded his arms, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the table and his hands splayed across it to capture Ichigo's slightly smaller one in its grip.
"Don't say bullshit like tha'. Yer good at a bunch 'a things."
Ichigo was too distracted by Grimmjow's sudden gesture of affection that he could barely get a response out.
Plenty of times had Ichigo been kissed, embraced, fondled, rutted against, etc. But holding hands? Well, that was very rare indeed. In fact, the last person who may have held his hand could possibly be his mother before she had passed on when he was nine years old. A physical touch so innocent made him want to either kiss the young man in front of him with all of the passion he held in his five foot nine, one hundred and thirty four pound body or drop the hand like it had burned him and run far, far away.
How was he supposed to be with anyone else after this?
"Like what?" he mumbled half-heartedly, his stare still locked onto where Grimmjow's large, tanned, warm hand covered his.
"Like...yer really good wit' people," Grimmjow said quietly, sounding almost...bashful. Ichigo's eyes snapped up to see that lo and behold, if you squinted just as he was doing you could barely make out the faintest of blossom pink blushes along the blunette's perfect cheekbones and straight nose. His face looked pinched, as if he was trying to remain confident even as he said something so...personal.
And here Ichigo had thought that it was impossible for Grimmjow Jaegerjaques to get any more desirable than he already was. Obviously, he was just proven very, very wrong.
"I am?" His voice was hoarse and low, and he could swear he felt his heart collapse as Grimmjow's thumb started to rub circles into the sensitive flesh of his palm.
"Yeah, every damn person ya meet automatically falls in love wit' ya. Half the people in our class stalk you, ya know," Grimmjow laughed a little, different from his usual barking laugh. This was much softer and it put the orange-haired student at ease.
"I'm pretty sure you're thinking of yourself," Ichigo chuckled, but he spoke the truth. Grimmjow was the hottest commodity in Karakura High School.
"Nah, tha's the other half," Grimmjow snickered a little louder this time, that arrogant, conceited look coming back to his face, and while Ichigo had to say he preferred it the other way, the boy wouldn't be Grimmjow if he didn't have a smirk on his face at least all of the time.
Ichigo placed his chin in the hand that wasn't being held by Grimmjow's and tilted his head.
"You didn't," he said quietly, the warm light of the lamp right above their booth shining down perfectly on his sunset-colored hair, making it look like amber. The other male cocked an eyebrow in confusion.
"You didn't fall automatically fall in love with me," Ichigo defined his slightly cryptic statement, causing a slight flicker in Grimmjow's cyanic eyes of some emotion that he didn't have time to decipher as it was gone the next second.
The other senior opened his mouth to say something when there was suddenly a figure at their table. Out of reflex, Ichigo snatched his hand away from underneath Grimmjow's to set it in his lap. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.
Well, he was. Falling even harder for Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was going to make the climb back out into the real word even more difficult the next morning when Ichigo would have to pick up the pieces of his shattered wish that he and the blunette could be something more.
"Well, hello there Grimmjow, haven't seen you in quite a while," a simpering voice said and Ichigo's gaze flitted up to see a slender, effeminate man in a waiter's uniform. His shoulder-length, bright pink hair could give either Ichigo or Grimmjow's a run for their money, and probably win.
"Szayel," Grimmjow greeted, apparently looking less than pleased to see the man. "Ya know what I like," he said gruffly, lazily tossing the menu up high for the man named Szayel to pluck it out of the air gracefully.
"Of course, I do. The New York strip, extra rare and pass on the pureed sweet potatoes," Szayel repeated, laying a hand over his heart as if pledging to his country's flag, then he turned his golden eyes behind white framed glasses onto Ichigo who was staring up at him with an almost helpless expression on his face. "Oh my, but this is new. What is your name, my dear boy?" he asked, peering at Ichigo so intensely, like he was looking at him as if he some sort of experiment, that the orangette had to suppress a shudder and stare right back into that calculating stare.
"Ichigo Kurosaki," he answered, but Szayel made no effort to shake his hand or anything before looking back to Grimmjow who was glaring at the pink-haired man through narrowed blue eyes.
"I see you've finally found someone special enough to bring to your uncle's establishment. I am just so happy for you, Grimmy," Szayel chucked gaily, the sound almost like nails on a chalkboard.
Finally? Hadn't Mila and Grimmjow just called it quits within the last month?
"Jus' take his order," Grimmjow rolled his eyes, surprisingly not even reacting to the nickname the flamboyant waiter had bestowed upon him.
"Yes, yes," Szayel shrugged him off, pulling out a notepad and a pen, not even bothering to make eye contact with Ichigo. "And what can I get for Grimmjow's delectable, redheaded friend?" he asked in that same simpering tone.
Ignoring the fact that he was fairly creeped out by the waiter (he was very used to being hit on by strange people), Ichigo looked down at his menu, realizing he hadn't even bothered to peruse it yet and so he picked the first thing that looked palatable.
"Uh..." he mentally cursed himself for sounding so unintelligent. "I'll have the mushroom risotto," he muttered quickly, hoping he didn't mispronounce the name of the foreign word. Luckily, it seemed that if he did, no one had heard him, because Szayel wrote the order down with a flourish of his pen.
"Well, I'll see what I can do in order to get those orders out as fast as possible, but the sous chef is unbelievably stupid," he sighed, tucking the notepad back into the apron around his thin hips. And with that, he was gone, the pungent scent of his cologne (was that cotton candy?) lingering in the air after him. Ichigo fanned the air around his face, wrinkling his nose at the saccharine scent, causing the blue-haired senior across from him to chuckle. He wondered how Suigetsu managed to become such an acclaimed eatery with its staff the way it was.
There was a moment or two of quiet, the sounds of the other diners' silverware and low chatter creating a pleasant buzzing around the two of them. It was like somehow they had formed their own personal bubble and everything outside of it was insignificant.
Ichigo's hand ached for it to be held once more, but he kept it firmly in his lap. Yes, he wanted to bed the blunette so that he could possibly get the gorgeous creature out of his system, but that didn't mean that he wanted to come off as desperate (no matter how much he actually was.)
"Elementary school teacher."
Ichigo's coffee-colored eyes flickered up from the hands in his lap to Grimmjow, who was slouching like a child on his side of the booth, an almost mischievous smirk pulling at the sides of his full lips. Cocking an eyebrow at the blue-haired senior to show his confusion, Ichigo waited for his date to further elaborate on his seemingly random outburst.
"Tha's wha' you should study ta be, an elementary school teacher. Everyone loves ya so kids hafta to too, right? And you would be helpin' people, like ya want to. Plus," Grimmjow sat up and leaned forward at that moment, his formally bright eyes darkening with obvious lust, a normal sight for Ichigo that didn't feel quite so normal this time around. In fact, he felt pinned in place by those dark cyan orbs. "You can keep me after school anytime for private tutoring."
"That..." Ichigo inclined his body so that his face was only a hand's breadth away from Grimmjow's and from this close he could see all of the different shades that made up the pure blue of the high school boy's irises, the gray and crystalline blue flecked with navy and a ring of dark midnight blue around the edges. If one of them were to move forward just the slightest bit they would brush lips. "That is a good idea, I love kids," Ichigo said rapidly and breathlessly, forcing his body to jerk backwards from his position half-bent over the table. His back hit the the cushion backing of the booth and he felt all the air leave his lungs as he watched Grimmjow blink a few times in mild shock before disoriented ocean blue eyes cinched with his, confusion (and hurt?) clear in their depths.
Ichigo had been about a second away from locking lips with the one person that had been the star of his wet dreams and fantasies for three years now and he had pulled back, because he was scared. He knew it had been his original plan to sleep with the blunette in order to find some sort of closure so that he could move on with his life and accept the fact that Grimmjow was using him as a rebound, using him like all of the others had.
And it just wasn't fair that Grimmjow had to understand him, had to be everything Ichigo had ever wanted. It wasn't fair that somehow Grimmjow knew his favorite chocolates and had brought them to him on what would end up being a one-night stand. It wasn't fair that after years of searching fruitlessly for a career path that he could see himself going into, Grimmjow could peg down something that was absolutely perfect for him. It wasn't fair at all.
And he knew that if he were to kiss the lips he had dreamt of for so long, it really would be just as amazing as he imagined it to be, and there would go any chance of finding someone he could really be with. Everyone after would be a crushing disappointment. This, Ichigo knew.
Perhaps he should cut the night short then and there, spare themselves the awkwardness that sure to follow a stunt like that, spare himself the pressure he would feel to give in to Grimmjow's carnal wishes (and God knows he wanted to.)
"I'm so happy ya like the idea," Grimmjow said with a hint of sarcasm, looking rather put out as he reclined back into his seat once more, leaving the table to span continents between the two as he looked away from the table for the first time that evening. Ichigo's stomach dropped as he surveyed the now rather icy expression on the handsome boy's visage.
Did Grimmjow think that he pulled away because he didn't like him?
Something told Ichigo that may be what was going through the student's mind and guilt rose up like bile in the back of his throat, making him cough to get the other's attention. He knew what it was like to think the object of your affection (no matter how temporary that affection may be) simply didn't see you in the same light.
Suddenly, it was like an electric shock zapped its way through Ichigo's body, spurring him into action, the dawning of an epiphany washing over him like some great tidal wave.
But...what if you could make them see you in that light?
Maybe it was about high time that Ichigo stopped whining over something he perceived as unobtainable and did something about it. This was his chance, sitting in a booth on a date with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, the boy he had not just admired, but practically loved, from afar. This was still the boy he had made spill Cherry Coke on himself in freshman year and he was Ichigo Kurosaki, Karakura High School's (second) most desirable male student. He could convince Grimmjow to see that he was more than just a body to play with and toss out the next day, and he wanted the blue-haired senior like he needed air and he'd be damned if he sat there and played Mr. Rebound for another second.
If Ichigo had been watching himself through Grimmjow's eyes, he would have seen his own widen impossibly as he came to his conclusion, caramel chocolate eyes staring blankly ahead and lips moving faintly as he internally monologued. Yes, to anyone other than himself, he looked downright schizo.
"Ichigo, are you-"
"Shut up." Ichigo's tone was firm, but not harsh as he returned to the present moment. He zeroed in on Grimmjow from across the booth, capturing the blunette in his fierce and yet warm stare. A few heads turned in their direction but neither of them paid the other diners any mind. Grimmjow's face fell into a questioning frown, thin blue eyebrows drawing together. It was apparent to Ichigo that not many dare to tell Grimmjow Jaegerjaques to shut up and he fought down the swell of pride at doing so without being beaten into oblivion.
Taking a deep, shaky breath he squirmed in his seat, dropping his gaze back to the table, having lost some of his nerve when confronted with those icy blues that felt like they could see into his soul.
But he went for it.
"Grimmjow," Ichigo began, still facing the table. "Ever since you pushed me into those seniors in the hallway freshman year-"
"Hey, tha' was an accident," Grimmjow protested, cutting in. However when Ichigo trained that fierce stare back onto him, he fell silent in awe of the orange-haired boy in front of him. No one had ever been able to dominate him with a single look like that.
"Anyway, like I was saying, ever since you pushed me, I..." Ichigo trailed off, still unsure as to how to phrase his next words, which had to be done with utmost care. "I think ever since then...I've loved you in a way."
Grimmjow's brow twitched for the briefest of seconds, but other than that...nothing. So Ichigo pressed on.
"What I mean is, is that I've always loved the idea of you. You're the only male in our high school who talks to me normally, even if it is mostly just to irritate the shit of me," Ichigo grinned wryly, rolling his eyes before continued. "You're the only one who hasn't either isolated me because I'm gay or tried to get into my pants. Well, except for now , kind of."
Biting his lower lip so hard he nearly punctured the skin, Ichigo watched Grimmjow for any reaction, but it was like the blue-haired boy had turned to stone.
"I know that I don't have the best reputation in the world," the orangette chuckled darkly. "But I'm not some sort of fuck toy you can use to get over your ex-girlfriend and then throw away the next day. Well, not anymore, anyway. I'm...I'm not going to let people use me like that anymore," Ichigo's face hardened as he continued on. "And if there's even this slightest chance that you like me more than just a slampiece to, well...slam, then maybe..." he trailed off again, at a loss for the right words. Everything was just coming out all wrong.
Grimmjow was still impassive, no sign in any part of his body to tell how he was feeling about the other's confession. He may as well have been one of the Greek god statues he so closely resembled. Even his eyes were like stone.
"I just...ugh, that sounded so stupid," Ichigo groaned, dropping his face to hide in his hands. He felt the sleeve of his shirt slip off of his shoulder once more and the telling sign of stinging behind his eyes as he wished he could just melt into the ground. He could tell that Grimmjow's hard as diamond eyes were on him.
So much for one of those impassioned confessions that reveal that both parties love each other more than words can say and then they suck each other's faces off. It wasn't going to happen for him.
The simple call of his name from that rough velveteen voice was all it took for Ichigo to drop his hands and look up into the face that had plagued him with what couldn't be for three very long years.
Grimmjow's expression was still composed, only the vaguest hint of emotion in those cyan depths. But Ichigo wasn't sure if he wanted to decipher which emotion that could be. Pity? Repulsion? Contempt?
And then so suddenly that to this day Ichigo still isn't sure what exactly happened, but one moment he was looking up at Grimmjow's stone-like countenance with wounded puppy dog eyes and then the next his face was being cradles by two large, warm hands and soft, domineering, full lips were pressed against his. It felt like someone had set off a full Independence Day set of fireworks off in his stomach and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he took in the sky blue locks of hair that were now brushing against the bridge of his nose, because Grimmjow had tilted his head to the side, because Grimmjow had reached across the table and gently taken a hold of his face before smashing it to his, because Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was kissing him.
Ichigo's eyelids fluttered shut, finally past the shock that had come with the sudden kiss and moved to finally respond zealously, his lips parting to suck on Grimmjow's bottom one and earning a very low groan from the blunette.
Grimmjow was the first to break away, leaving them both in an utterly breathless state, lips already kiss bruised and eyes hooded heavily. Ichigo's peripheral vision caught the fact that the other boy had had to place his knee on the table in order to read him and the thought of Grimmjow being so eager to kiss him made his lips stretch in a blissful smile.
Why had he waited so long to do this, again?
Oh, and yes, they were vaguely aware of the fact that several diners nearby were all staring at them with scandalized expressions, but they didn't much care.
"Did you ever think that maybe I fell in love in a way," Grimmjow started, smirking like the asshole he was. "With the boy who tripped me and made me spill Cherry Coke on myself? Who always gave me shit no matter what I did to impress 'im? The one who took out my fuckin' heart and stomped on it every time it seemed he'd rather hook up with anyone else but me?"
Ichigo flinched, his smile faltering but then Grimmjow's left hand reached out to brush the hair out of his face in a tender gesture that was out of character for both of them.
"But we don't have ta worry about tha' no more, because now," the blunette's fingers traipsed across Ichigo's cheekbone and down to his lips in a feather light touch, making the orangette shiver at the foreign feeling. "You're mine."
Ichigo grinned, grasping Grimmjow's hand in his own.
"Then you're mine too," he said.
"Whatever you say, kitten," Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, one of his infamous arrogant smirks making its presence on his face.
Just when Ichigo was about to start the conversation that the fact that Grimmjow called people kitten was weird and not cute at all, really, a blur of pink caught his eye, making the pair turn towards the man at their booth, two covered dishes in hand.
"Here's you food, my dear Grimmy and Ichigo, but I do have to ask you to keep the PDA down just a little, you're scaring some of the more conservative customers away."
Twenty minutes later Ichigo was once again pressed against Grimmjow's cashmere-clad back as they zipped through the streets of Karakura. They had bailed early as the mushroom risotto turned out to be some very unappetizing mush and apparently if you move to the other side of the booth to sit next your new boyfriend and start kissing him because damn it, you're in love, that's enough for the waitstaff to ask you to leave, even if you are the owner's nephew.
Whatever, Ichigo had some chocolate to eat.
A/N: Happy birthday, Ichigo my darling! (Late, I know) This was done for a contest over on DA, so that's why I had to keep it Teen-rated. Hopefully I place! The deadline was supposed to be today so I killed myself, writing all night (summertime is best time!) and then they extended it by two weeks. I raged.
Okay, so this IS for a contest entry as I have stated above, and I would very much appreciate it if anyone would offer to help me edit it before the deadline (in two weeks) is over. I'd be grateful for any one's help! I'll send it to multiple people if more than one person offers, as well.
Oh, and I have a question for you all. I know I have a distinct style when it comes to writing I guess, which is very detailed, but I feel like sometimes I ramble (sooo longwinded!) and it gets confusing at times. Do you think this is the case and if so, do you have any tips? Thanks! :)
I also feel like the song "Everything You Want" by Vertical Horizon fits this little one-shot well. 'Tis not for everyone, though.
Also, I have a poll up on my profile page if you would be so kind as to check it out? Please and thank you!