Disclaimer: Hn, let's see... Oh yeah, I own nothing. Siiiiigh.
.:The Parent Trap:.
He who makes a beast out of himself,
Gets rid of the pain of being a man
A long groan was issued for the abrupt, and rather rude, awakening when the first lines of Avenged Sevenfold's Bat Country blared from the tiny microphones in the old Motorola flip phone resting on a carved oak bedside table. The owner of said device scrunched his eyes shut tighter, burying his head deeper into the welcoming warmth of his pillow as he tried in vain to blot the infernal noise out.
Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
I tried to drive all through the night
The heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights
No oasis here to see
The sand is singing deathless words to me
Growling lowly in defeat, the man begrudgingly slitted his eyes open, revealing captivating pools of crystallised cerulean set in ruggedly handsome features, including a straight cut nose, a strong, square jaw dusted with light stubble, and defined cheekbones. Rolling over onto his back, the man huffed out a weary sigh, scrubbing two large, work callused hands down his face before forcing himself – and with great effort it should be noted – into a sitting position. A few unruly bangs the colour of electric teal fell forward onto his forehead, not quite long enough to hinder his vision, but enough to be a constant nuisance. The rest of his thick tresses, which usually sported a seemingly blasé arrangement of untameable spikes, now sat mussed up on the right side of his head, and completely flat on the left where his head had been resting on the pillow. The dark navy sheets his body had been so warm and contently cocooned in not five minutes ago had shifted and followed his movements, now lying in a crumpled heap in his lap to showcase a healthy repertoire of hard, corded muscles and sharp cut planes, all wrapped up in tawny, sun kissed skin.
Anticipating the obvious 'bed-head', the twenty-eight year old male, one Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, ruffled a hand through his hair, a wide-jawed yawn escaping the depths of his lungs as he reached for his ringing mobile just as it started into the chorus. He dully noted from the luminous green numbers on his alarm clock that it was 7:52PM, which meant that he had been asleep for no more than two hours. Fucking fantastic. It was at times like these that he really hated the stress and ungodly demand of life working as a crime boss's goddamn lapdog.
Peering at the screen of his phone, blue tinted brows furrowed together in confusion. Figuring he was a lot more tired than his conscious had led him to believe, he rest the phone on his knee to forcibly rub the sleep from his eyes before checking the caller ID again. When he was met with the same information as before, he simply blinked, a whole myriad of emotions flitting throughout his system.
'Berry'; that was the name flashing across the small LCD screen. Fuck, he hadn't seen that name crop up on his mobile for a good, what, eleven months now. It had been even longer since he last talked to the owner of the number. So, it begs the question, why now? The man waiting on the other end of the line had made it perfectly clear that there was nothing left between them, had kicked the blue haired male right out of his life damn near a year ago after one heated argument too many – after one close call too many. He'd told Grimmjow it would be easier on all those involved to make it a clean break, to not only wipe the slate clean, but forget that it had ever existed in the first place.
Letting go of his younger lover had been hard, one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life in fact, and in the beginning, Grimmjow had given the other all kinds of hell over it. He refused point blank to just walk out of his damn life like he'd never even been there to begin with, fought tooth and nail for the younger to reconsider, to at least think it over and give him another chance. Never mind that that particular chance would be just one of a whole fucking ream that preceded it, but damn it all, they belonged together, and Grimmjow believed in that simple fact with all his heart and soul. There would never be another, not even if he lived a million lifetimes over.
Thinking back on it all now, it borderline galls Grimmjow to recall just how desperately he'd begged his lover not to leave him. He was Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, for fuck's sake! He didn't ask for anything from anyone, and he sure as shit didn't beg and plead and beseech. But, as bad as it was – and it was pretty fucking pathetic – he knew he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. Shit, if given the chance, he'd give getting down on his knees a go if he really thought it would make any difference.
And so, bearing all that in mind, you can probably imagine that seeing that name flashing so fondly and familiarly across the little highlighted blue screen, and after so many months of communicative silence was, well…shocking, to say the very least.
His first thought, after the initial bout of disbelief of course, was anger. Potent, furious, seething anger. How dare his ex-lover call him now? Was it not he who had warned Grimmjow from ever getting in contact, telling him time and time again that it was the only way their break-up was going to work? So what was this then? His ex was allowed to do whatever the fuck he pleased whilst only Grimmjow had to adhere to the rules? How was that in any way fucking fair? His lov–dammit, his ex-lover, had no goddamn clue just how fucking difficult it was for him to keep from getting in contact, how so many times, usually in a drunken stupor, he had pulled his mobile from his pocket and punched in the younger's number before he remembered that it wasn't his place to call it anymore. Oh how he longed to hear that sweet, honeyed baritone again. Fuck, he'd gladly accept hearing it through his voicemail, even knowing that the electronic edge would interfere and surely mar it. Anything would be better than nothing, which was all he was used to hearing these days.
His second thought jumped straight to suspicion. What did he want? Why suddenly pick up the phone and call now? The blue haired male could maybe understand if he'd called a month or so after their, urgh, 'separation'. That's when most people recognise their mistakes, right? When they realise with a sudden and gut-wrenching clarity that they actually can't function without the other by their side and welcome them back with open arms, yeah? Grimmjow figured that particular window of time to be a maximum of two months. So, at nearly twelve months down the line, he wasn't going to go holding his breath for his peachy former lover to have suddenly come to his senses. The younger male may have been about as headstrong as a fucking ox, and as stubborn as a mule to boot, but even he would have broke before now if he was ever going to do it.
As much as Grimmjow hated to admit it, even to himself, he knew this wasn't going to be about a miraculous reconciliation.
Hence that now, after the process of elimination, his last thought rocketed straight to panic. What if something was wrong? What if he was hurt, or in trouble, or needed his help, or…
Without wasting another second on the possible consequences, especially if this turned out to be some twisted form of test, Grimmjow quickly accepted the call before it could terminate, his fingers trembling with adrenaline as he pressed the mobile to his ear.
"Ichigo…?" he asked, his voice quiet and slightly hesitant. Without even realising he'd done it, he sucked in a quick breath, holding it deep in his lungs so that all around him was silent. Finally, after so many agonisingly lonely months, he would finally get to hear that voice again…his voice…
"No, silly Grimmy-Pa~ It's me, Nel!"
Grimmjow could feel himself rapidly deflating at the cutesy, girlish peal of Nelliel Tu Kurosaki; Ichigo's eight year old daughter. Letting loose his bated breath in one overdrawn, tiresome sigh, Grimmjow could feel his frantically pounding heart gradually returning to its typical rate and his entire body, which had been sitting bolt upright and coiled tight with tension mere moments ago, suddenly turn boneless so that his back rested against the headboard. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Grimmjow fought hard to keep the sheer disappointment from leaking through in his voice.
"Apple, sweetheart, what're ya doin' with your father's phone? Ya know you're supposed to use your own mobile when ya want to talk to me, that's the rule."
"I know, I know," the young girl replied, a childish pout implied in her impatient tone. "But my phone ran out'a battery, and this is an emergency!"
This had Grimmjow sitting up again, his mobile clutched tight in his hand. "Emergency? Whaddya mean?"
"It's Itsy-Pa, Grimmy! There's something wrong with him. Ya have to come quick!"
"Okay, just calm down, Apps, everythin's gonna be fine." Throwing the covers back, Grimmjow clambered out of bed, fighting his way into the closest pair of jeans to hand as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Now tell me, what's goin' on? What's wrong with Ichigo?"
"I don't know, he won't talk to me… He just stays hidden away in his room all the time, he barely eats, doesn't sleep… I'm scared, Grimm-Pa, ya need to come and help him! Please! What if he's sick? Or dying? Or–"
"Nels, breathe! Ya've got to calm down," Grimmjow instructed as he pulled on an old grey thermal and scooped up his black leather jacket from the floor. "Look, I'm on my way, so don't worry. Can ya put Ichigo on the phone, is he around?"
"No, he's locked away in his room, he won't come out."
Moving into his living room, the blue haired male pocketed his wallet and grabbed his keys from the coffee table, his heart hammering like a jackhammer against his ribs at both the prospect of actually getting to see his precious Berry again, and at the possible danger he might be in. Steeling himself for whatever might be lying in wait, he walked out the front door of his two bedroom apartment, closing it with a resolute sense of finality behind him.
"Listen to me, Nels. I want you to go an' keep Ichigo safe, okay? I'm leavin' the apartment now, so I'll be there in about ten minutes. Don't leave the house, and don't let anybody else in, ya hear?"
Grimmjow smiled in spite of himself. "That's my girl. Just hold on, I'm comin' for ya's."
A wide, triumphant smile graced Nelliel's lips as Grimmjow hung up, her excitement increasing tenfold now that the pieces of her master plan were slowly clicking into place. Using her father's phone to call him had been a genius ploy on her part – thank you very much – as it guaranteed a response. Ever since her father and Grimmjow had broken up, she had had very minimal contact with the older man. Ichigo had bought her a cheap mobile a few months back so that she could still call and text him, and on the odd occasion, when Grimmjow wasn't too busy with his 'work', he was allowed to come and pick her up – though only if Ichigo agreed, and even then the older man wasn't allowed to step foot into the house.
Nelliel adored her time spent with Grimmjow, the man being like a second father to her. She'd always believed that he and Ichigo would be together forever, could see just how happy they made one another and the obvious, oftentimes sickening, love they shared. They were a proper family, and Nelliel couldn't have been more content.
And then the fighting began.
At first it was silly little things that all couples squabble over; bills, finance, stability. Nelliel was never worried though, because they always made up in the end, and everything would go back to normal. But then money suddenly stopped being an issue, and her father had gotten suspicious, so they started arguing about that instead. Ichigo would get angry and upset when Grimmjow was late coming home, or when he didn't come home at all. And when he eventually did step foot through the door, Nelliel would be sent upstairs to her room. Sure she couldn't see what her parent's were arguing about, didn't know what had been thrown in a fit of rage when there were loud smashes and crashes, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear the shouting and the screaming and then, later on, when Grimmjow would leave either having been too furious to stay or after he was physically thrown out, she would hear the crying.
That was undoubtedly the worst of times, when she would quietly climb down the stairs, picking her way carefully across the broken shards of glass or china strewn across the floor, only to find her father with his head buried in his hands and his back shaking with anguished sobs. During those times, she would wordlessly crawl up into his lap and let a heartbroken Ichigo clutch her tightly to his chest, like she was the only lifeline he had left in the world.
Still, even that was never enough to tear the two men apart. Grimmjow would come back eventually, when everything had had the chance to simmer down, and then they would calmly talk it out, admit that they love each other, and that would be the end of it. There was even a time or two when the young girl had been the unfortunate witness to the blissful reunion of the two males, able to hear their zealous lovemaking even though her own room was located at the opposite end of the hall to her father's. She would bury her head under the pillow, if only to avoid costly therapist bills when she was older, but would find a large smile breaking across her mouth regardless. For as long as her parents were happy, then so was she.
But that fragile happiness wasn't to last.
It all happened about a year ago, when the Kurosaki/Jeagerjaques household was under the peaceful blanket of slumber late one summer's night. Nelliel was fast asleep in her room, whilst Ichigo was wrapped up in the security of his lover's arms in their own. Although it was fast approaching two in the morning, Grimmjow was only beginning to succumb to the tempting call of sleep's embrace, having just finished ravishing his delicious Strawberry not even thirty minutes previous; and it was all thanks to this little fact that he heard it – the infuriating creak of the fourth step on the stairs he'd been meaning to fix for months. To this day, he still praises the deities that he'd been too lazy to ever get around to it.
By the time the two hired thugs had broken into his room, he'd been ready for them, easily snapping the first man's neck and knocking the other out cold before he could even turn to investigate the noise. Ichigo had watched the entire spectacle with wide, panic-stricken eyes, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. A shrill shriek from Nelliel had both men standing to attention, Grimmjow grimly realising that there was at least one more intruder, and Ichigo fearing for the safety of his little girl. When Grimmjow had told him to stay put until he got back, he'd argued that there was no way on God's green earth he was abandoning Nelliel when she needed him, but when the blunette suddenly pulled a 9mm Glock 19 handgun from under a hidden panel in the floorboards, Ichigo had been stunned into utter compliance. It wasn't until he heard the thunderous boom of a gunshot resonate throughout the otherwise deathly silent abode, that he finally kicked himself into gear and stumbled down the hall to his daughter's bedroom.
At first he was relieved beyond words to find both Nelliel and Grimmjow safe, his little girl curled protectively in the burly arms of his blue haired lover, but upon seeing the dead body of the executed assailant, and the resulting blood spattered not only all over the floor and walls, but flecks of the vile crimson liquid coating his trembling daughter, he just knew that that was it. Enough was enough. He could live with knowing that Grimmjow worked for a crime syndicate, could tolerate knowing that his own life could be at risk because of it, but he could not, and would not, abide knowing that Nelliel was in danger.
Nelliel remembers a lot of fighting after that night, remembers having to move house, and transferring to a different school. She also remembers her father giving her a lot of false smiles and hollow promises, telling her stuff like; "Everything will be better from now on", and "We have a whole new future to look forward to" – but she didn't want a new future. She wanted the old one back, the one where her father could talk, and even look at Grimmjow without the two of them jumping down each other's throats.
If you asked her, they were both being stubborn idiots! She knew that Ichigo missed Grimmjow, if mumbling his name in his sleep and staring at his number on his phone like he was longing to hit the call button were anything to go by, and it was no secret that Grimmjow was struggling just as hard without Ichigo when their rare days out together consisted of an hour long bombardment of questions like; "How's he doin'?", "Is anyone givin' him any hassle?", and even the odd "Does he ever mention me?"
It broke her heart to see the two of them so damn miserable because both were too proud to step up and admit that they'd made a mistake, that they could never truly be happy without the other there to make it happen. They belonged together, it really was as simple as that, but if they were too darn stupid to see that much on their own, then it was up to her to make them see it.
As she sat now, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and grinned. She'd held up on her end; Grimmjow was on his way to them right now, and, so long as he wasn't late, everything should go according to plan.
Letting herself fall back onto her mattress, the young girl gave a wistful sigh. "Phase one; complete."
It was just past eight in the evening, and Ichigo found himself sitting perched at the bottom of his spacious, queen sized bed, elbows resting on his bouncing knees and his slender fingers tangled through his bright hair. He had a date tonight, and that age-old feeling of butterflies in his stomach was plaguing him, only to him it felt more like a horde of agitated bats, their wings scrapping at his insides and making him feel decidedly queasy. He knew he was being absolutely ridiculous – he was twenty-six for heaven's sakes! More so, as far as he was concerned, he was a free agent now, and had been for the last eleven months, ever since he and Grimm…
Ah, whoa. Let's back it up there, before we start delving into dangerous territory.
Forcing a deep, calming breath in through his nose, he lifted his head to glance up into the full-length mirror covering the front of his sliding door wardrobe. Youthful features; high cheekbones, shimmering ochre eyes, lightly freckled, peach hued skin, and a head full of shocking tangerine spikes, all stared back at him. Standing up, he gave himself a critical once over. He wanted to wear something halfway decent, something that said he'd put in the effort, but at the same time didn't come across as desperate for approval or anything. Hence he'd settled on a pair of black drainpipe jeans, a crisp white shirt, black waistcoat, and a pair of grey chucks. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows for a more casual look, had a silver watch on his left wrist, a leather cuff bracelet on his right, and a thick silver chain encircled around his neck. As it was, he couldn't stop pulling and fidgeting with the damn thing. The necklace, that was. It had been a gift from Grimmjow for their one year anniversary, and he just couldn't find it within himself to throw it away.
The necklace, and one ratty old grey sweatshirt the older male used to wear when he went out for his early morning jogs, were the only two mementos he'd kept, everything else had been packed into bin bags and thrown out on the lawn for the blunette to collect – or the trash men, whichever came first. He couldn't deny that he loved the gift, nor that it looked damn good on him, but then again Grimmjow always did have an exceptionally keen eye when it came to jewellery. Still, surely it wasn't very good etiquette to wear something your ex gave you when heading out on a date, right?
Unclasping the latch from the nape of his neck for what felt like the umpteenth time, Ichigo laid the chain out on the bed in an almost reverent fashion before walking from the room and gently closing the door behind him. Wandering down the hall, he stopped in to check up Nelliel, knocking softly on the painted pink door before stepping in. A fond smile touched his lips when he found her sprawled out on her bed, her long, sea-foam green hair swept up into a messy ponytail and her continuously developing body clad in her favourite yellow nightdress. He frowned however, when he noticed what she had clasped in her tiny clutches.
"Uh, Nelly? Why do you have my mobile?" he asked, patting his pocket in case he was imagining things. He certainly didn't remember the little imp taking it.
Nelliel beamed innocently up at her father, he large wheaten eyes shining. "Oh, no reason, daddy. I was bored, so I was just playing some games."
Ichigo shrugged, thinking nothing further of it as she handed it back. He sat down on the bed beside her, his fingers brushing through her bangs as he smiled down on her. "Alrighty little miss, I'm heading out soon, so you know the drill."
Nelliel gave a fervent nod, holding up a small hand so she could count off the list on her fingers. "No unlocking the doors or windows. No answering the phone, not unless it's my mobile, and only if it's you. No answering the door for any reason, even if they say they're the police. And…uhh…"
"And if it sounds like someone's breaking in…" Ichigo prompted when he realised she was struggling.
"Oh! If it sounds like someone's tryin' to get in, then hide in the closet and call you right away."
Ichigo nodded, folding his daughter into a tight embrace as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "Good girl, Apple. I'm only going out for dinner, so I should be gone an hour, two tops, but if you need me for anything – and I mean anything, then just–"
"Call you," Nelliel interrupted, rolling her eyes as she batted her overly protective parent away. "I know, Pa. We go through this all the time. I'll be fine."
Ichigo gave a wan smile at the clearly smothered child. He knew he was being ludicrously sheltering of his little girl, that at this stage in her development he was most likely doing more harm than good, but fuck, who could blame him? He'd had her young, at the tender age of just seventeen, when experimenting with the likes of alcohol and his sexuality had been regrettably high on his priority list. One too many shots of tequila, and one too little functioning brain cells, and boom! Nelliel was conceived. Nine months later, her own mother had dumped her on his doorstep, telling him to do what he pleased with her before fucking off, never to be seen again. She'd been young too, but still, that was no excuse to just abandon Nelliel like a bag of trash on the street. In Ichigo's personal opinion, it was her own selfish loss, because his daughter was easily the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he simply couldn't imagine his life without her.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to once again ensure that she would be okay on her own, his thought process was suddenly lost to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Looking down at his watch, Ichigo frowned.
"Huh, he's twenty minutes early," he mused out loud as he stood up, smoothing out his shirt. "I'll go let him in and then come back to tuck you in before we go, 'kay?"
"M'kay, Itsy-Pa," Nelliel answered, a small ream of mirthful giggles accidentally slipping out.
Quirking a brow, Ichigo decided to shrug off the suspicious behaviour in favour of greeting his date. He got about halfway down the stairs when the rather incessant abuse of the doorbell turned into a frantic pounding instead. Drawing his brows together in a dark scowl for the highly unnecessary racket, Ichigo picked up the pace, jogging from the bottom of the staircase to the door just to get there a little faster.
"Christ, hold your damn horses!" he groused as he slid the deadbolt back and unhooked the chain. "You're gonna wake the damn neighbours with all that…"
Any and all vocabulary instantly died on the tip of his tongue when he finally swung the door open, not to come face-to-face with his date like he'd expected, but rather a much more familiar and, admittedly, appealing figure.
With his heart lodged somewhere within the vicinity of his throat, and his ochre eyes wide with a whole flurry of warring emotions, Ichigo swallowed thickly before uttering the one name that plagued his thoughts every waking moment of every single day.
After his brief conversation with Nelliel, Grimmjow just could not get his heart to stop stuttering. The whole drive over he was a mess of unanswered questions and worst case scenarios, his tortured mind conjuring up all kinds of morbid shit just to screw with his head and turn his driving reckless. He'd honestly come expecting to have to kick the front door in and rush to the apparent rescue of Berry… So you can imagine his immense surprise when not only was the door answered, but was done so by the very man he'd come to 'save'. For the longest while they both just stood there, Grimmjow with his heart still hammering away, and Ichigo – looking as healthy as a fucking horse, he might add – staring up at him with eyes brimming in absolute bewilderment.
Ah, shit. There it was, that fucking beautiful honeyed voice he'd missed more than life itself, sounding out his name like it was the only word it was ever meant to form.
It took a stagnant moment for Grimmjow to compose himself, to rearrange his currently shot-up neural system so that he could function like a normal human being for two damn seconds and answer the younger man.
Fuck it was hard though.
"You look well," was the first coherent thought to tumble from his lips, and he inwardly cursed himself when ochre eyes narrowed.
"Well, thanks for coming all the way out here to give me an ego boost, now you can go."
Grimmjow quickly jammed his foot in the door before Ichigo had the chance to slam it closed in his face, hissing in pain when it struck the appendage before rebounding back. Taking the opportunity whilst he had it, he wrapped a large hand around the door frame and forced his way past the threshold.
Ichigo growled at the unwanted intrusion, folding his arms angrily over his chest as the blunette sauntered inside. "What the fuck do you want, Jeagerjaques? I'm a little pressed for time to be dealing with your shit right now."
Grimmjow curled his lip at the callous tone of the other, closing the door behind him with a simple flick of the wrist. "Stop callin' me by my surname, ya lil' brat. Ya know my name, said it not ten seconds ago, so fuckin' use it."
"I'll call you whatever I damn well please, Sexta," Ichigo spat back, positively bristling with anger. How dare that asshole just barge in, uninvited, and start barking out commands! "Now answer the fucking question – what're you doing here?"
An involuntary shiver went down Grimmjow's spine when the orange haired male let slip his rank. He knew that Ichigo was obviously using it as a cruel form of spite, but that didn't stop him from remembering the times the younger had called – nay, screamed it out in ecstasy. As much as his peachy ex-lover despised his line of work, and he really fucking loathed it, there was no denying that the kinky little minx got off on the danger of it all. The memory was still so vivid, so palpable, he could practically see it now; those gorgeous orbs burning a dark, earthy brown, glassed over in pure lust as that lithe little body arched up into his larger frame, those mile long legs snaring his waist in a vice like grip as blunt nails scored roughly down his shirtless back and–
Said blunette blinked, his trance shattering at the irate snap of the younger male. Ichigo on the other hand was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable with those stunning cerulean pools boring into him, the gaze so heated and intense that it felt like they were piercing straight through to the centre of his very soul. See, this is exactly why he cannot afford to have the older man so close to him! He can't think straight when Grimmjow is around, and he just knew that the damn demon in disguise used it to his advantage.
Carefully schooling his expression into one of displeasure, Ichigo cleared all else from his mind. "You have precisely five seconds to tell me why you're here before I kick your ass right back out again, so I suggest you start explaining."
Grimmjow snorted, standing to his full height of 6'3" to tower over Ichigo's diminutive-by-comparison 5'10". "Still as mouthy as ever, I see."
"Grimm…" Ichigo warned, his eyes flashing a foreboding honey-gold, his growing impatience leaving him oblivious to the oversight in using the blunette's nickname. Grimmjow sure as hell noticed, though.
"Tch, fine. Keep your fuckin' knickers on," he rumbled, running a hand through his hair tetchily. "I'm here because Nels called me up in a panic, sayin' that you were in some kind'a trouble an' needed my help."
Ichigo was genuinely taken aback. "She what? But I'm not in any trouble…"
"Yeah, I can see that much myself, Berry," Grimmjow deadpanned, the eye roll implied in his tone.
Ichigo's heart gave a spastic flutter at the affectionate pet name so casually muttered by the other, and quickly averted his gaze off to the side. "Don't call me that." Grimmjow set his lips in a thin line, but wisely chose not to comment, leaving Ichigo open to continue. "Look, I really don't know why Apple would tell you any of that, I'm perfectly fine."
"Hn." Grimmjow scratched at his chin, casting his eyes to the top of the stairs just in time to catch a brief glimpse of sea-foam green ducking behind the wall. Scoffing, he couldn't help but smirk at the little girl's evident audacity. "Y'know, I think I may have an inklin' as to what's goin' on here."
Ichigo lifted his gaze back to the blunette, his ochre orbs inquisitive. "Oh?"
"I think we've just been 'parent trapped'," he chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Ichigo cocked a brow, realisation dawning on him slowly as he shook his head and sighed. "Why that little… Sometimes I think you had a bigger influence on her than we ever anticipated." Regretting those words the very instant they left his damnable trap, he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Uh, for what it's worth, I'm sorry she wasted your time. It's a Friday night, I'm sure you had more, um…important things to be doing."
Grimmjow shrugged indifferently. "Naw, not really. Was just catchin' up on some much needed Z's when the little tyke called. Actually, d'ya mind if I…?"
He shrugged his head towards the stairs, Ichigo catching on quickly to the suggested query. Checking his watch and noting it to be 8:22PM, he chewed pensively on the inside of his cheek. Grimmjow felt a frown knitting his brows at the action; Ichigo only ever indulged in that particular habit when he was anxious about something. Roving his gaze briefly over the younger's frame, the blunette only just now realised that the other was obviously kitted up to go out. A potent wave of jealously crashed through him at the notion, causing his nostrils to flare alongside his temper.
"Goin' somewhere tonight?" he asked in spite of himself, his inner alpha rearing its head at the prospect of another touching what he would always consider to be his property.
Ichigo set his jaw, his hackles rising at the accusing tone. "Not that it's any of your damn business, but yes, I am." Straightening himself up defensively, he locked gazes with the clearly fuming blunette, fighting back the gnawing sense of unease as he forced himself to finish what he'd started. "If you must know, I have a…date."
And then there was silence. Cold, awkward, could hear a pin hit a pillow silence.
Too scared to even swallow, Ichigo could only watch as Grimmjow appeared to stop…well, everything. It didn't even look like he was breathing right now. He couldn't see, due to the larger male's hands concealed away in his pockets, but he imagined that they were now balled into fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to deal with his fury. And he would be correct in his assumption.
"You have a date?" Grimmjow ground out at long last, his voice positively dripping with venom.
Ichigo baulked at the low, rumbling baritone, but firmly held his ground. He did not push himself this far, did not put months of his life into getting over the man before him, just to give up and bottle it now.
"That's right," he started, his tone soft but resolute. "He's gonna be here any minute actually, so if you're wanting to see Nel before you leave, then please go do it now."
"Who is it?" Grimmjow asked, completely ignoring the younger. "Do I know 'im?"
"Oh God, I sincerely hope not," Ichigo muttered before he could stop himself. Grimmjow merely growled in response, taking a bold step closer so that he was now invading Ichigo's personal space.
"What's his name? Is he from around here? How'd ya meet 'im? He fucked ya yet?"
"Fuck, Grimm, stop! Just…stop. I'm not going to tell you a damn thing about him or our relationship. It's none of your concern, so stop making yourself crazy for no reason." Taking a step forward himself, Ichigo set determined ochre on blazing cerulean. "Please, Grimm. Go and say goodbye to Nelly."
Now that his sudden burst of seething jealousy had crested and was beginning to bubble down, Grimmjow was all too aware of how close his Berry was currently standing. He could feel the younger's body heat rolling in pleasant waves between their bodies, could smell that fruity shampoo he was obviously still using wafting from his hair, could easily see the sparse amount of freckles sitting along the bride of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. Twenty-three. He had twenty-three in total, something Grimmjow discovered one lazy, Sunday afternoon after counting each and every one.
Almost like it was a separate entity, his left hand gingerly reached out, like he was approaching a timid rabbit about to scamper off, the pads of his fingers brushing in a feather light caress across a peachy cheek. A soft gasp escaped Ichigo's lips at the tender touch, a warm sensation torrenting down his spine as his eyelids fought to flutter shut. Christ, how he missed this man; his citrusy musk, that thickly corded body and rumbling voice, those wildly expressive pools of glittering aquamarine that had captured his heart from the very first glance. But most of all, he missed just having the blunette around, missed the security and love and devotion he poured so effortlessly into the heart of both himself and his young daughter.
Sensing that they were headed down a very precarious road that both would end up regretting, Ichigo tilted his head away from those searching digits – only to have his left cheek captured in Grimmjow's free hand.
With his face now cupped and pinned in place, and not possessing the mental strength to fight against the wonderful sensation of just being held again, he slowly raised his own hands, grasping the blunette's large wrists in a weak and desperate hold. He could feel tears of utter helplessness prickling hotly in the corners of his eyes as the barriers he'd built up to protect himself came crashing down around his ears. Damn it all to hell, why was he so weak?
"Grimm, please…don't do this…"
Grimmjow could hear the distress in the younger's straining voice, knew that he was feeling vulnerable and exposed right now, but it was much too late. He was too far gone to stop himself now, ensnared so completely by the shimmering orbs and sunshiny tresses of the man he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
Ghosting his lips over the petal soft ones of his younger lover, Grimmjow damn near groaned in delight when he caught a subtle hint of that sweet, addictive saccharine flavour that was purely Ichigo. The downright electrifying spark that one tiny, innocent little brush elicited had Grimmjow instantly craving so much more, and, having not encountered any resistance from the smaller male other than a slight increase in pressure around his wrists, the blunette decided that it was now, or never.
Slipping his right arm down to settle around a narrow waist, he pulled the orange haired male flush against his body, his blood singing in pleasure when slender fingers fell from his wrists to fist in his thermal instead. Sinking his own strong fingers into deceptively silky spikes, he used the leverage to angle Ichigo's head back, giving him maximum access to those pink, parted lips he knew he would never tire of bruising with his own. Dipping his head, Grimmjow lightly brushed his nose against the other's before finally, finally, pressing their eager mouths together in a firm, soul-searing kiss…
…and then the doorbell rang.
A/N: Ciao, Bellas~ Aa, gosh, it's so good ta be back ^^ *happy purr*
As some'a yah already know, I took an unscheduled 'vacation' when mah netbook up and died on me. Luckily, I gots me a new one fer mah birthday, whoop-whoop~! But unfortunately, am still workin' on recovering all of my files from mah old netbook - gonna have ta take my old hard drive out, hook it up to tha PC, and copy them all onto an external hard drive from there... So, yeah. Fun times ahead fer me (:
Yosh, so until I get all tha' jazz sorted, am afraid mah other fics will have ta wait, hence this lil' story. Jus' an idea that has been sittin' in the back of mah mind since the scenario popped up in an episode of Supernatural.. Ooo I love tha' show~ *flicks tail* This was supposed ta be a OneShot, and then I got crazy out'a control with the plot and details etc and well, now it's gonna be a TwoShot. Sorry yah'll, but fer once yer actually gonna have ta wait fer the delicious, lemony goodness ^^' Hn, this actually is my very first story tha' doesn't have any sex contained in the first chapter. Accomplishment? ... I would have ta say - hells no! I'm the authoress, an' even I feel cheated *kittenish growly*
N'wawh well, tha smut shall come soon mah sweets, jus' hang in there (:
Enjoy if yah like, and ciao fer now