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Ichigo’s breath comes out as translucent clouds, rising in the winter night to meet the sparse snow that falls down. The moon tonight is reflecting only a sliver of the sun’s beams; a waning crescent as sharp as the thorn in his chest. The pale illumination from the moon does nothing to light the park that Ichigo sits in, hunched on a cold bench. Only a couple lamp posts provide weak light to the area. Yet, it’s still a beautiful night for grieving.
The snowflakes are chilly as they land on Ichigo’s forehead before warming and sliding down his face. Another lands on his chin as it turns into a chilled dollop of water, curving down his throat. Others gather at the corners of his eyes as they make their way down the sides of his nose and past his cheekbones. Fuck.
It’s times like these that Ichigo wishes he didn’t choose to be a senior caregiver. He doesn’t hate it, in fact he’s very connected to the community of elders he works with and loves each of them in his own way. But it’s hard. It is sometimes too short-lived, even when he gets to say goodbye using konsou with the people he knew.
Ichigo misses Suyama-san.
She had been an amazing knitter who made Ichigo some lovely—and quite funny—works. One of his favorites is a cerulean and yellow pillowcase etched with the words “fucking dicksneeze” after he was overheard by Suyama-san. He had knocked over one of her mobility aids and forgot she was in the room when he let out that particular string of explicits. He has that pillow sitting in the center of his couch.
His work with his community brings him immense joy and fulfillment, but Ichigo is allowed to be sad sometimes, damnit. Things had slowed way down after the war with Yhwach. Normalcy was a common acquaintance as his friends got settled down, the Urahara household helped their boss recover, and even members of Soul Society visited him every so often. He had even seen Nel and Grimmjow a few times in the past couple of years. Ichigo had amazing fights with both of them that he enjoyed to the fullest in good spirits.
Things were good. But nights like these remind Ichigo that life is indeed multifaceted. He sniffles, his tears leave frigid paths on his face.
The snowfall gradually gets heavier when Ichigo hears the vicious boom of a sonido behind him. He’s up in a second. Ichigo is turning fast with a hand on his soul badge. Then familiarity flutters through his mind and a rough voice sounds in front of him.
“Oi, I’m here for—” Ichigo finally meets the blazing eyes of Grimmjow, the arrancar has a palm on Pantera but he freezes. Grimmjow’s wild grin is tamed slightly as he searches Ichigo’s face.
Oh shit— “Kurosaki, are you crying?”
Ichigo turns away, brain frozen and embarrassment pumping through his tingling fingers. What in the random fresh hell was this mad man doing here, in the middle of the night. Ichigo quickly wipes his jacket sleeve over his face, it probably doesn’t help with his puffy eyes, fuck. He doesn’t know what to do in this kind of situation!
Ichigo stays turned away and yells, “No!” Wow. “Maybe. Never mind that, what are you even doing here?” This can’t get any worse.
There is silence from Grimmjow for a couple of beats which makes Ichigo’s blood pressure probably reach the criteria for hypertension. Ichigo is about to make a break for it and just fucking run when Grimmjow speaks.
“Why?” It’s a simple question, yet Grimmjow’s tone suggests seriousness. It has Ichigo turning around to face him and he sees just that; a stoic expression devoid of mocking and holding what Ichigo can only interpret as confusion. Goddamnit.
“I’m…” Ichigo starts but he feels like he can’t begin without the thick soup of sorrow making its way into his voice. He stares at his feet. Ichigo notices that the ground is wet with snow that isn’t sticking.
Should he even say anything? It isn’t Grimmjow’s fucking business. Yet, it is nice and calm in Grimmjow’s presence right now. There’s no threatening aura around him or the usual insult in his voice. Grimmjow even looks patient. What the fuck. It’s actually a pleasant look on him.
Ichigo tries again, “A friend of mine passed away today... I’m mourning right now.” Ichigo is watching hard for Grimmjow to be a dickhead but he doesn’t change. He’s still just staring at Ichigo with hard eyes.
Then Ichigo blinks and Grimmjow is gone with the crack of his sonido. Left as quick as he came.
It takes Ichigo ten seconds before he processes what just happened. He can’t even be mad though. What the fuck would Grimmjow even do with that information? Pat him on the back and say he’s sorry? That isn’t the kind of creature Grimmjow is. He is a hardened fighter; Ichigo knows that to his core. But he can’t help just feeling absolutely terrible. Ichigo should’ve just said nothing and kept it to himself. Fucking waste of breath.
A snowflake touches his cold hands which feels no different from what he’s feeling inside. Ichigo shoves his hands in his warm jacket pockets and turns to head down the street. He thinks a nice warm coffee from the nearby konbini would be good.
Ichigo takes one step and that awful sound brings the arrival of Grimmjow once again, looking no different but instead this time he is holding something. Ichigo has to really focus hard before his brain can catch up to what he is seeing.
Being held out in front of Grimmjow in what can only be an offering is a young—and recently uprooted—Mongolian oak tree. It’s only about 3 feet tall with a trunk the size of a zanpakuto’s grip and a few branches holding minimal leaves. There are several dirt clumps, some falling to the ground from its sad roots that look to mostly be broken—probably from Grimmjow having ripped a fucking tree out of the ground. What the absolute fuck.
“Are you— What—?” Ichigo can’t fucking speak because it’s like he just jumped into some sort of fucked up alternate plane of existence.
Grimmjow brings a hand to his chin for scratching as he glares at the young oak in his grasp. “Yoruichi was talking with Nelliel once about how humans like receiving plants or some shit because it makes them feel better.”
Fucking what.
A burst of warmth invades Ichigo. It’s like he just got done trading blows with Grimmjow on the battlefield. Ichigo is enthralled and restless. And not sure how to take this.
There must have been something happening on Ichigo’s face because once Grimmjow looks back to him, his brows squeeze together and a vicious scowl appears.
“If you don’t like something just fuckin’ say it.” Anger and impatience are both potent actors in Grimmjow’s voice as he throws the tree away into a smattering of the park’s bushes.
“No!” Ichigo immediately jumps for it. He curls his hand around the patchy bark and attempts to detangle it as carefully as he can from the surrounding foliage. There were already more leaves lost to the bushes but once he fully retracts it, he feels just how heavy it is. It’s a nice weight, and it truly anchors Ichigo in what Grimmjow just did for him in his own weird fucking way. Ichigo couldn’t fault him; Grimmjow wasn’t even human.
Grimmjow had gotten him his own version of flowers.
He turns around to see Grimmjow with a mix of pissed off and confusion contorting his face. And honestly, Ichigo doesn’t know what he should be feeling. His chest is full of helium, lifting his spirits in this one small, but surprisingly tender gesture. If Ichigo was to be real with himself, his face was a little hot too.
“Sorry, I was surprised,” Ichigo says while bringing the tree to rest against his chest. “I like it a lot. Thanks, Grimmjow.”
“You’re fucking weird, Kurosaki.”
“Says the one who brought me the damn tree.” Ichigo says, holding on to it just a little bit tighter.
“It worked didn’t it?!” Grimmjow finally bursts out, stalking forward with squinted eyes.
Ichigo can’t help but huff out a short laugh, warming considerably despite everything. “Yeah, yeah it did.” He takes his eyes off Grimmjow to look back at the tree in his arms. It’s fucking wild but yeah, he definitely feels better.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Grimmjow shakes his head, probably at the whole situation. “I’m gone then. See ya some time, Kurosaki.” And he is turning to go but he can’t! There’s something else Ichigo needs to do!
“Wait! Wait, Grimmjow. I—” What is it exactly that Ichigo wants? “I want to get something for you too. Will you be in the human world tomorrow?” Ichigo doesn’t understand why but his heart is racing, the thrum in his chest distracting.
“I don’t know shit, Nelliel does all that.” Grimmjow says with a shrug and turns to go again.
Ichigo sucks in a breath, and blurts out the first thing he can think of. “If you aren’t, then I’ll come to you. In Hueco Mundo, I’ll find you.” Ichigo is surprised by the amount of commitment pumping through his chest. It's a consistent experience Ichigo has for Grimmjow. He doesn’t even know what he is going to get Grimmjow, of all people, but that’s for future Ichigo to stress over.
“Gonna chase me, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow says smartly in reply. A challenge.
“Yeah. Gonna catch you too.” Ichigo can’t believe what he’s saying, only going off raw instinct at this point. But he likes it— this is as exhilarating as all of their fights. The thrill is rumbling through his chest, making his heart pound with anticipation. Yet, it’s not enough some how.
“Hah, sure.” Disbelief painting Grimmjow’s every word and his snarky face daring Ichigo for something else too. Fuck him.
Ichigo gives him one last scalding look before heading down the path towards his apartment. He is already so much lighter. He’ll make Grimmjow eat those words like rocks.
Quietly, Ichigo replies with only one thing while he gently rubs his thumb against the surface of the oak’s textured bark.
“Just watch me.”
Ichigo walks through the now cascading curtain of snow for a bit. His nose stings but Ichigo is full of vivacity and life. He thinks that Suyama-san would’ve liked the snow they’re apparently getting this season. Ichigo smiles at the thought.
But as Ichigo turns onto the next street, he hears the angry sound of sonido in front of him. Towering over him with only his presence, the stony face of Grimmjow has Ichigo stop. Ichigo is instantly tense and reaching for his badge. Grimmjow is faster.
There’s a hand gripping the front of Ichigo’s jacket and he is jerked into Grimmjow’s space with minimal effort. Ichigo is intensely aware of not only the aggressive prod of branches through his jacket, but the sharp reduction of personal space between them. Ichigo is staring directly into Grimmjow’s hard blue eyes and can feel the soft tufts of air from his calm breathing. He’s so close. Ichigo can only stare—and be aware of the way one of his legs is brushing against Grimmjow’s. The cream of Grimmjow’s hollow mask is lit with the yellowed light of the street lamp. The pervasive small downward turn of his lips is a shade Ichigo doesn’t even want to attempt to name. Grimmjow’s lips. This close.
An urge to know what they feel like strikes Ichigo like steel on flint.
Ichigo’s brain and face immediately go up in the red flames of a blush. What is he fucking thinking. How could he—of Grimmjow of all beings! Is he losing his goddamn mind?
“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow says pointedly. Ichigo’s eyes soar back to his blue-as-fuck ones. Holyshitholyfuck is he—for Grimmjow? Because this is familiar. From all their past interactions, this is familiar. Has all his past reactions for Grimmjow been from… attraction?
Oh.
Oh shit.
Ichigo is absolutely fucked.
“You never said what you were gonna get me.” Grimmjow breathes, apparently fine by their positions.
“It’s—That’s—a surprise.” Brain to speech transfer has ceased to work because Grimmjow hasn’t fucking backed up even a fucking inch.
Blue eyes narrow and he pushes in closer. A combustion reaction is ignited in Ichigo’s stomach. He can see partially under the teeth of Grimmjow’s fractured mask where it's split with a grin. This is new. It’s all so new and so fast.
“What if I don’t like it?”
Ichigo might be able to power a small generator with how fast his heart is going.
“Uh, what exactly do you, um, want?” Fuck. Ichigo is completely out of breath and there are no thoughts behind any of his replies at this point.
Grimmjow still doesn’t move away. Ichigo is close enough to see the small tilt of his head in contemplation. It’s interesting; watching him at practically microscopic distance as one of Grimmjow’s small eyebrows twitch.
An even wider grin blooms across Grimmjow’s face that tightens Ichigo’s stomach. Fuck.
“Something you won’t give anyone else.” Provocation is evident in Grimmjow’s tone as his fist tightens. Ichigo can hear the uncomfortable scratch of his jacket threads in his strong grip. It also pulls him impossibly closer. Anymore and they—nope. Not going there. Every sense Ichigo has is at its full capacity. He truly believes he might just explode at this point.
That’s it.
Past the point of hyperventilation, Ichigo grabs Grimmjow’s hand and rips it off. A quick shove and he’s away. Away from this strange, touchy being that has the balls to look confused when Ichigo tears himself free. The poor tree won’t survive much more of this treatment, much less Ichigo himself.
Ichigo leans over, setting one hand on a knee and just tries to catch his breath. What was that? What is going on with Grimmjow? And Ichigo himself? It’s like winter's passed with how hot he feels. The sweat beading under his jacket is uncomfortable at this point. There’s also residual heat under his chin where Grimmjow held up his jacket in a clenched fist. Fucking hell.
“What exactly are you doing, Grimmjow?” Ichigo asks as he straightens, looking the other right in the eye.
“What do you mean?” Grimmjow gives nothing away as he finally puts his arm down and presses his hand into a pocket.
“I mean you—you can’t say shit like that! Or h-hold me that close. Humans like personal space.”
Grimmjow’s eyes turn to slits.
“It never bothered you before.” Does he mean during their fights? It has to be.
Ichigo takes a deep breath. “That’s different.”
“How?” Grimmjow's pissed off and Ichigo is getting there. Damnit, he can’t take this.
“Because.” Ichigo says, looking at his own tight grip on his gifted tree.
“That’s not an answer. How, Kurosaki?” Pushy fucking asshole!
“Because you’re handsome!”
No.
It’s the shell-shock on Grimmjow’s face that jump-starts Ichigo on what he said. And just like that, the chill in the air finally sinks into Ichigo’s organs and creeps into his blood. The deep dive Ichigo took into his life choices till now has him staring at nothing. What a sour and shitty night this is.
He can’t recover from this, can he.
Ichigo looks at the damp ground, and walks past Grimmjow just standing there. He refuses to look at him at all; fear driving him to avoidance of this whole messed up situation. Ichigo’s chest is tight.
A hand at lightning speed grabs at Ichigo’s upper arm and he’s spun to face Grimmjow once more. The grip is strong and painful. It forces Ichigo to take one last glance at those terrifying features. To trace the outlines of his estigma and behold the mask that’s harder than bone. Just one last time. But what greets Ichigo is not what he expects.
A fiendish grin carves its way through Grimmjow’s distinguished features. Keigo could have told him his dad likes getting pegged and he wouldn’t be this startled. Ichigo can’t speak.
“Now I really know what I want.” Ichigo about cries from how deep Grimmjow’s voice sounds. Husky and drained of any mockery or teasing. Ichigo has whiplash from the rapid shift in events. His high temperature is cooking his brain into mush. Curious and elated mush.
“W-what?”
“This.” And then there’s a hand on his hip, pulling Ichigo back into Grimmjow's volatile orbit.
He has no time before he feels those lips he was so curious about. Grimmjow is intensely warm where he touches Ichigo. From where his hand is sliding down his arm, to the one now cradled against his lower back, to the press of their chests. The movement of their lips have him reacting with just as much passion. Ichigo hones in on the surprisingly tantalizing brush of Grimmjow’s cool mask fragment where their lips meet. It is nice and honest; erasing the stormy emotions Ichigo had previously been drowning in. The caresses of Grimmjow’s expert mouth makes him insanely happy.
Ichigo pulls away for air, lungs catching up as best they can as Grimmjow does the same. It’s unreal where this night went. How he flip-flopped on so many assumptions throughout their whole encounter is the most shocking. Fuck, he needs to slow the hell down in jumping to conclusions. At least where Grimmjow is applied.
To be fair, Ichigo has a good excuse; he was mourning damnit!
“I liked that.” Ichigo blurts out, eyes caught by Grimmjow’s panting mouth. He gets a full view of it easily sliding into a teeth-ridden smirk.
Suyama-san would have definitely liked this snowy night.
“I originally came here because Kisuke wanted me to tell you there was a party or some shit. Nelliel wanted to learn to decorate with Yoruichi. And your shitty friends are invited too.” Grimmjow says, leaning in and sniffing at him, which, weird.
Ichigo blinks as a snowflake hits just above his eye. “Will you be there?”
“I could be.” Grimmjow muses with a shrug, evil glinting in his blue eyes.
“Be there then.” Ichigo says as he pushes away, tone huffy. “I really don’t wanna have to go to Hueco Mundo if I don’t have to.” It would definitely be a lot of work to accomplish.
“I like the idea of you looking for me.” Ichigo could detect the heat in Grimmjow’s words. Fucking hell.
“Get me another tree and I might think about it.” A scathing smile appears, parting wicked bone teeth. Ichigo will be planting this one to hopefully save it. He likes it a lot.
“It’s on, Kurosaki.”
END