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They wake up tangled in the blankets.
Ichigo wakes up first, blinking sleep away from heavy eyelids. The side of him towards the window is chilled even under the covers and the other side is warm, Grimmjow's face nestled against his cheek, an arm thrown over his chest.
He turns his head to the side to look at Grimmjow's face, hair mussed and spilled over the pillow. He's sleeping deep, Ichigo can tell.
He's just managed to crane his neck forward and place a kiss on Grimmjow's forehead when the alarm goes off.
“Swear to God,” Grimmjow mumbles into the pillow, voice sleep-rough and husky as Ichigo's fumbling over the edge of the pillows for the clock, “'M gonna throw that damn thing out the window.”
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” Ichigo laughs. “And you don't believe in God anyways.”
Grimmjow's mouth widens in a grin, like the sun breaking through the blinds in their room. “Oh, but I do,” He opens his eyes and says, pushing up on one elbow and a warm hand slipping past the hem of Ichigo's sleep-shirt, “Have I been remiss in my worship?”
It's another forty minutes before they make it out of the bed, and it's only because Ichigo manages to remember he needs to be at work on time today.
They brush their teeth standing side by side. Ichigo watches the water swirl as it goes down the basin and Grimmjow pulls his hair back with a band.
Contrary to popular belief, Grimmjow's the one who uses a pure strawberry extract! facewash. And as Ichigo's noticed over the last year-and-half, he gets extremely defensive when confronted about his choice of beauty products.
Yuzu's very happy about it, and when they spend the night over at the Kurosaki House, Ichigo wakes up to both sister and boyfriend lounging on the couch with their intensely moisturising, now with the refreshing scent of strawberries! facial masks.
“Geyser's not working!” Ichigo calls out, and then mutters to himself, “Damnit.”
“You iron your clothes then,” Grimmjow appears in the doorway, “I'll get the immersion heater and get your water warm.”
“What do you want for breakfast?” Ichigo asks as Grimmjow's folding the blankets into a pile at the foot of the bed.
“Not pancakes,” Grimmjow yells back.
“Does it kill you to give an answer that is not in the contrary?” Ichigo says, and pops two slices of bread in the toaster.
Later, as Grimmjow's explaining the dream he had last night— “Nightmare!” He emphasises, “Dreaming of Urahara in a Santa Claus costume is a nightmare!”— Ichigo sorts out all the pieces of broccoli in his omelette and passes them over to Grimmjow's plate. Grimmjow doesn't notice. Ichigo smothers his laughter with huge bites of the toast.
“I'll be late, I'll be late,” Ichigo chants as he's packing his files into the briefcase, “I'll be so fucking late, thank you sweetheart, I'm gonna be late.”
Grimmjow stares him down even as he's fixing Ichigo's tie. “Whose idea was it to make out over the kitchen counter?”
Grimmjow's mouth is cherry-red, cheeks still flushed. Ichigo grins. “I'm not the slightest bit sorry,” he says, and leans in for another kiss so the last of his words are muffled against Grimmjow's lips.
“Leave, dipshit,” Grimmjow's laughing against Ichigo's mouth, “Sweet Jesus, leave already.”
Ichigo touches his forehead to Grimmjow's nose, and soaks in the slow moment as Grimmjow runs his fingers through the short hair at his nape.
In the evening as Ichigo's walking back from the train station, the streetlights are just being turned on. He stands on the sidewalk and looks up, at the wreaths hung in front of the stores, the strings of light wrapped around the trunks of the trees lining the pavement, blooming like flowers of light up in the higher, finer branches.
He buys a little Santa Claus plush figure for Grimmjow. It has a white beard and a huge belly and a floppy red hat with a white pompom at the end.
It's their first Christmas together. He smiles to himself all the way back.
Grimmjow's out shopping when Ichigo comes home.
He's left a note on the refrigerator. did you know we're out of marshmallows? dumbfuck. p.s: i'll also get the bloody groceries while i'm at it.
Ichigo laughs and laughs and laughs and then takes the note off and keeps it in the box where he keeps all the other notes.
“Look at this stupid fucker,” Grimmjow pokes at the round tummy of the little Santa Claus toy. He's back with groceries and an absolutely humongous amount of marshmallows, and a packet of Ichigo's favourite caramel candies, which Ichigo hadn't noticed he'd run out of.
Half an hour later, when Ichigo's considering crossing the distance between the bathroom door and the dressing cabinet in his wet feet because he's forgotten his slippers by the bed once again, he notices the little Santa Claus toy standing on Grimmjow's bedside table, peeking out behind a framed photo of the two of them.
It's one of Ichigo's favourites, the day they moved into their apartment. They're sweaty and desperately in need of a good bath and exhausted and laughing at the camera, hazy and slightly off-centre.
“If the towel is on the bed again, I'll decapitate you.” Grimmjow says when Ichigo ventures out into the living room, “Welcome back.”
“Romantic today, aren't we?” Ichigo steps up and Grimmjow turns back slightly to kiss him chaste on the lips. “Are you making tea?”
“For the last time,” Ichigo says, trying to reach for a kernel of popcorn stuck in his teeth with his tongue, “if the score still isn't settled by the end of the penalty shootout, the teams don't fight to the death.”
“Doesn't make sense.” Grimmjow replies. “We're stuck watching this stupid game when we could've watched something else.”
Ichigo turns to look at Grimmjow, clutching the remote to his chest. “Something else what? Besides, you had remote privileges yesterday evening. This is a semi-final match.”
Grimmjow draws the blanket tighter around the both of them, and sinks even further into the couch. “We could've watched Totoro.”
“We've watched Totoro three times in the last two weeks.” Ichigo points out. He glances at the scoreboard, and it still reads nil-nil.
“And? I kiss you every day. That doesn't make it old.”
“Point taken,” Ichigo snorts.
Grimmjow makes more popcorn. They're watching My Neighbor Totoro.
“You know why we don't have dust bunnies?” Grimmjow speaks from where his head is comfortably nestled over Ichigo's shoulder. “Because you won't stop vacuuming the house.”
Ichigo turns his face absently and drops a kiss on the top of Grimmjow's head. “The chrysanthemums bloomed last night, did you see?”
“Saw them while hanging the laundry.” Grimmjow's thumb is drawing idle figures where it rests over Ichigo's wrist. “Pretty.” But he's looking at Ichigo when he says it.
“Should we just order pizza?” Ichigo asks.
Grimmjow leans over and places a quick peck on Ichigo's cheek. “Extra cheese.”
“What are we getting the girls for Christmas?” Ichigo asks as he's stuffing the first slice of pizza into his mouth.
Grimmjow looks up from his slice, which he's eating crust-first like a heathen. “We? What we? There's no we. I know what I'm getting the girls.
Ichigo stares slack-jawed at Grimmjow, the traitor, and sputters for a while before he can manage a reply. “You've already gotten everyone gifts?”
“Everyone except you.”
“Everyone except me.”
“You already have me. I'm the greatest gift you can ever have.” Grimmjow says around his mouthful. There's oregano sticking to his lower lip, and when Grimmjow wipes his mouth with the back of his palm, it smudges over to his chin.
“Just for that,” Ichigo reaches for the pizza box, “I'm taking the last slice.”
Grimmjow grins, and then laughs, and the sound of it fills the room.
Grimmjow sits on the kitchen counter, eating the leftovers of last week's matcha pudding while Ichigo dries the dishes. The radio sings: Soon it will be christmas day!
Grimmjow sings along, till the song changes, and then he takes to poking Ichigo with his foot. Ichigo opens his mouth for a pending admonishment, and his words are cut off in his throat when Grimmjow runs his foot in a devious line up Ichigo's leg, and hooks his toes over the elastic of Ichigo's waistband, leaning back on his arms and head cocked to one side, smile almost innocent.
Ichigo swats at him with the dishrag. Grimmjow throws him a kiss.
They brush their teeth standing front to back, Grimmjow's arms around Ichigo's waist, chin resting on his shoulder.
Ichigo hums and Grimmjow smiles at him in the mirror.
Grimmjow gets into bed first. And curls up with all the blankets. Ichigo climbs in after, and nudges till he's created a space for himself, and lies down. Tonight, he's the big spoon. He kisses Grimmjow, soft, slow.
They fall asleep tangled in each other.