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A week. Ulquiorra had been gone for an entire week. Grimmjow knew because Szayelaporro made a point of dating it. Whatever. It was Ulquiorra’s own doing. He never refused one of Aizen’s orders, never batted an eye, or questioned what the former shinigami asked of him. It sickened Grimmjow.
It sickened him because he knew Ulquiorra despised Aizen as much as the rest of them. But Ulquiorra hid his disdain behind a mask of impassivity, of cold absolution that his way would cause the least casualty to himself. Aizen had no interest in the Arrancar he created beyond serving his self deluded fantasies. They had stolen time when they hollowed, coveted it in gluttonous frenzies, and clung to it when Aizen offered them a place at his table.
The unfortunate part about that table was the understanding that their meal was rotten with poison. To sample and die, or remain hungry and weak. Grimmjow had never cared for impossible choices.
Grimmjow turned over in Ulquiorra’s bed, tangling his legs in the sheets. He could still smell Ulquiorra on the pillows and feel his latent energy in the room. A week without a warm body beside him, a week without cold eyes tracking his movements like a predator, a week without panting breath against his neck. Grimmjow would slaughter anyone that dared to call it pouting. This wasn’t pouting, this was… so maybe he was sulking. There was a difference.
He shoved himself out of the bed to pace. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears, and his fists clenched at his sides. The muscles in his jaw flexed with a desire to bite something. Energy crackled around him, looking for a conduit. He needed to distract himself before he combusted. Or he could let himself self destruct in a spar.
Yes. That would work the pent up energy out of him, and distract him from Ulquiorra’s absence. An absence that shouldn’t have felt so cutting. Ulquiorra was barely present when in Las Noches, but having him gone left Grimmjow’s chest empty. He pressed his fingers over his heart and spared a glance at the rumpled bedding.
“Bastard.” He wrenched open the door and stalked down the hall toward the main atrium that separated the palaces.
While he walked, Grimmjow’s reiatsu flared around him like a thunderstorm. He could feel weaker signatures disappear ahead of him, and curled his lip. Weak, pathetic Numeros. Nothing but cannon fodder for Aizen to throw at the enemy in hopes to slow them down. Killing them would only earn Grimmjow another reprimand, but he needed to taste blood.
The sound of bracelets jangling proceeded Nnoitra stepping around the corner. His eye focused on Grimmjow while his lips split into a delighted grin. “Oh, I thought it was you I felt throwing a tantrum.” He gripped the edge of the wall and bent forward. “Upset your little fuck toy’s not home?”
Grimmjow hadn’t expected to find Nnoitra, but he wasn’t disappointed. His hands fisted in the slits of his hakama, and he shifted his weight to his back foot. The pulse in his ears raged on. “Jealous I can get my dick wet? Only person stupid enough to fuck you is Tesla.”
Nnoitra pushed off the wall and his eye narrowed with amusement. “At least the things I fuck know where I stand. Bed’s the only place you’ll ever get Ulquiorra under you.” He giggled, high and manic. “Or is he on top there, too? I bet he makes you scream like a whore.” The tip of Nnoitra’s tongue darted over his lips.
The jab landed, and Grimmjow snarled. He kicked off, feeling the tile crack under his boot from the release of his spiritual pressure. Nnoitra took a step back and swatted Grimmjow’s strike with the back of his hand. It knocked Grimmjow off balance, and he jerked his head up to see Nnoitra’s palm before it caught his face. The back of his head slammed into the plaster with a sickening crack.
Grimmjow grunted as Nnoitra’s fingers tightened and his hands shot up to scrabble against Nnoitra’s slim wrist. The bracelets echoed in the hall like awful bells.
Nnoitra giggled, shoving Grimmjow’s head harder into the wall. “What? You only like it rough when it’s Ulquiorra?”
Pressure built against Grimmjow’s skull in creeping increments. The first trickle of panic filtered down his spine and his heart sped up. Nnoitra would kill him. He couldn’t die. He didn’t want to die.
Grimmjow hissed, “Fuck you.” He gripped Nnoitra’s wrist with both hands and lifted his legs, kicking Nnoitra hard in the chest. It was enough to loosen his grip, and Grimmjow twisted Nnoitra’s arm to the side, pushing off from the wall and skidding across the floor into the atrium. Blood rolled down his temple. “Bastard.”
Nnoitra turned and shook out his hand. “So you want to fight, huh?” He tilted his head. “Maybe after I kill you, I’ll see if Ulquiorra’s interested in someone stronger.”
Ha. Ulquiorra would incinerate Nnoitra’s hand if he even tried to touch him. Grimmjow dropped into a boxer’s stance. He smiled over his fists. “You aren’t his type. He’s not into brainless insects.”
Nnoitra’s face contorted into a snarl, and he charged Grimmjow. Good. He should be the one off balance. Grimmjow pivoted away from Nnoitra’s strike, and crouched, sweeping his leg against Nnoitra’s ankles. Nnoitra pitched forward, but caught himself on his palms, twisting around to smash the heel of his boot against Grimmjow’s unmasked jaw.
A starburst of pain pulsed through his head followed by the tang of blood in his mouth. He skidded back, but Nnoitra was on him again. His face slammed against the wall. Blood trailed down Grimmjow’s lip.
“Lights out.” Nnoitra jerked Grimmjow’s head back and slammed him into the wall again.
Grimmjow growled and pressed his hands against the stone. The muscles in his arms strained while he struggled against Nnoitra. How was he so fucking strong when he looked like that?
Nnoitra leaned against Grimmjow’s back, whispering, “Shame killing you won’t raise my rank. I’ll take good care of Ulquiorra for you though.” His tongue flicked against the shell of Grimmjow’s ear.
Anger rippled through Grimmjow, and he pulled one hand away from the wall to press his palm against the side of Nnoitra’s face. A cero formed, and Nnoitra shoved away from him, hissing.
“What?” Grimmjow turned around, spitting blood. “Scared?” His hand dropped to Pantera’s hilt. “Good.”
Nnoitra’s eye narrowed, and his grin widened. His fingers caught the handle of Saint Theresa. “Come on. Show me.”
Grimmjow slipped his sword from its sheath, pressing his fingers to the cold metal and surging forward. Nnoitra moved to meet him, swinging his weapon forward. “Grind, Pan-”
A new burst of reiatsu filled the air in a cloying miasma that threatened to put Grimmjow on his knees. Its pressure increased, and he saw a blur of motion before a firm hand wrapped around his wrist, wrenching his fingers away from Pantera’s blade. Dust swirled around them, and he heard a quiet grunt followed by the sound of Nnoitra’s bracelets.
Ulquiorra stood between then with his right arm raised to block Saint Theresa. The sleeve of his coat split, but his arm remained steady despite the tremors from Nnoitra’s efforts. Ulquiorra turned his head in a slow pan toward Grimmjow, bright eyes cold and unimpressed. Grimmjow’s heart slammed against his ribs, and his throat felt dry. He’s back.
Ulquiorra turned his head toward Nnoitra and shifted to catch the blade with his hand instead of his forearm. “Lord Aizen will not allow for such brazen acts of distraction among his Espada.” He pushed Nnoitra back. “You are Arrancar, not Adjuchas fighting over scraps.” He touched the tear in his sleeve.
Nnoitra put a few more feet of distance between them. His eye darted from Ulquiorra to Grimmjow then back. He licked his lips, smiling. “Ah, I see. Ulquiorra really is the one in control. You should take better care of your bitch, Cuatro.”
Grimmjow bared his teeth in a growl and took a step forward when Ulquiorra’s hand flattened against his chest. His eyes snapped to Ulquiorra to see him focused on Nnoitra. It was difficult to tell but Grimmjow noticed Ulquiorra’s nostrils flare and his lips draw into a straight line. He was irritated. Heat flared against Grimmjow’s skin, and he fought back a shudder.
Ulquiorra turned to face Nnoitra, slipping his hands into the slits of his hakama. His positioning was not lost on Grimmjow. “Leave, Quinta. There is no fight here for you.”
The tension in Nnoitra’s shoulders went lax though only for a few seconds before he readjusted the grip on his weapon. His brow furrowed, and Grimmjow could see the gears turning in Nnoitra’s hollow skull.
Nnoitra cackled. “Think there is, and four’s greater than six!”
A possessive snarl ripped out of Grimmjow’s chest, and he readied to release Pantera when Ulquiorra stepped in front of him.
Ulquiorra lifted his hand, energy gathering at his fingertip. “You would do best to reconsider.”
Nnoitra stiffened before contorting his face into an ugly sneer. He turned on his heel, smashing the blade of his weapon against the wall. The room rattled, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Keep a better hold on your bitch then! Next time he’s barking his head off, Ulquiorra, he’s mine!”
Anger coursed through Grimmjow while Nnoitra’s energy faded somewhere deeper into Las Noches. Once he couldn’t sense Nnoitra, he slipped Pantera back into her sheath and turned an unhappy look on Ulquiorra.
“I didn’t need you to step in.” Though a very small part of himself was grateful. He had never expected Ulquiorra to put himself in the line of fire like that. It still stung Grimmjow’s ego and reminded him of their gap in power. “I had it under control.”
Ulquiorra let out a breath, eyes slipping closed. “You did not. Nnoitra would have removed your sword arm before you even finished your command.” His eyes opened and slid over Grimmjow. They lingered on the blood at his temple. Ulquiorra lifted his hand to wipe it away. Grimmjow flinched but leaned into the touch. “You’re quick, but he is quicker.”
The words sank in, and Grimmjow gnashed his teeth at Ulquiorra who didn’t even twitch his fingers. “I could have taken him!” He didn’t need Ulquiorra to defend him!
Ulquiorra’s hand withdrew, and he turned toward the entrance to his palace. He began to walk, hands slipping into the slits of his hakama again. His voice carried over his shoulder, low. “I do not have the patience for this, Grimmjow.”
Grimmjow stiffened. Hadn’t he been missing Ulquiorra not that long ago? Funny how his moods could change. He was still angry, but he fell in step behind Ulquiorra all the same mumbling, “You never have patience for anything.”
Ulquiorra stopped and turned to face Grimmjow. The look in his eyes was frigid. “You are a petulant brat.”
Grimmjow tensed and snapped, “Arrogant bastard!” Who was he to call Grimmjow names? It was Ulquiorra who decided to intervene.
Ulquiorra’s eyes slid down Grimmjow’s body before he looked at a broken section of wall. “I will be on the roof when you have settled your tantrum.” He turned back toward his chambers at an unhurried pace.
Grimmjow watched Ulquiorra’s back and felt regret worm its way past the anger and bruised ego. He was happy Ulquiorra had come home. The sensation felt alien to him, and he struggled to pick it apart. Ulquiorra had stepped between him and a blade. That… that meant something. And so did Ulquiorra’s slow retreat from him. If he was irritated he would have used sonido. He wouldn’t have told Grimmjow where to find him.
It clicked then, and Grimmjow sighed in frustration. This whole mess hadn’t gotten far too complicated, but he only had himself to blame. If he left, Ulquiorra would punish him, and he couldn’t handle another week or more alone. He had grown accustom to Ulquiorra’s bed and body.
His legs moved on their own, and he closed the distance in a few long strides. Ulquiorra paid him no mind. They began to climb the stairs at the end of the corridor.
Grimmjow inhaled and asked, “How was your mission?”
Ulquiorra’s eyes remained forward. “The same as the previous mission.”
“Killed everyone?”
Ulquiorra’s eyes shut. Without a word, they both used sonido and the open sky of Hueco Mundo greeted them. A cold breeze buffeted them, and Grimmjow watched Ulquiorra’s coat tails snap in the wind. He stepped past Ulquiorra to drop on the edge of the dome, bracing one leg. Ulquiorra settled beside him with his hands in his lap.
The clear sky stretched before them with only the moon at its center. Grimmjow leaned back on his hands to chart the darkness. No stars. Empty. The absence of the stars never dawned on him before, but he also never thought to look. Why he chose now eluded him, but he found it odd.
Hueco Mundo was nothing but a cold, empty desert with threats looming around every corner. Eat or be eaten, and no matter how much Aizen tried to domesticate them, at their core they were monsters. The world Aizen built was fake, nothing more than smoke and mirrors to hide the blood lust in the air. It hung as heavy as the reiatsu surrounding them, mottled by raw emotions and emptiness.
Las Noches was as artificial as Hueco Mundo itself, a pale imitation to another world. A world they only saw in snatches, but a world full of everything taken from them. Everything they would never have again save for those few fleeting moments.
Grimmjow watched Ulquiorra from the corner of his eye. Ulquiorra’s attention remained on the infinite sand, eyes half-lidded. The thought popped into Grimmjow’s head He likes to watch the sunset. I wonder if he likes the stars, too. Maybe that could be his apology.
“Hey.” Grimmjow watched Ulquiorra’s head tip up. His fingers hooked in the fabric of his hakama. Why was he nervous? They had snuck off to the living world plenty of times. “Do you… want to see the stars?”
Ulquiorra’s brows arched before furrowing. He mumbled, “There are no stars in Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow.”
Logical asshole to the end. Ulquiorra was lucky Grimmjow found it attractive. “But there are in the living world.”
Ulquiorra’s eyes shut. “I am tired, Grimmjow.”
“That’s not an answer.” Grimmjow nudged his leg against Ulquiorra’s. And it was also a lie. At least physically. Ulquiorra’s regeneration made muscle fatigue unheard of.
Ulquiorra gave Grimmjow a narrow look. “Isn’t it?”
So he was still irritated. Grimmjow couldn’t blame him, but also couldn’t Ulquiorra see the olive branch? “No because the question can only be yes or no.”
“No.”
It was cute to see Ulquiorra annoyed enough to be petty. “Now who’s being petulant?” Grimmjow pushed himself up. “If you’re tired, a change of scenery would be good.”
Ulquiorra stared at Grimmjow before he returned to the desert. “Gallivanting in the living world is very low on my priorities at this moment.”
Grimmjow put his hands on his hips and wondered if Ulquiorra’s difficulty was worth it. “You act like walking twenty feet is going to kill you.”
“I am not interested in sex tonight.”
Oh, that explained the disinterest. Wait. Did Ulquiorra think that’s all Grimmjow ever wanted? That he was incapable of anything besides carnality? ...Given the track record, he supposed he could forgive Ulquiorra, even if the realization still stung.
The back of Grimmjow’s neck prickled, and he shifted his weight. Maybe he had been a little aggressive when Ulquiorra returned before. Had they gone to the world of the living for anything besides quickies? Oh… oh no, they hadn’t. Shit. No wonder Ulquiorra thought he wanted to fuck.
Grimmjow tried to recover and fixed Ulquiorra with an accusatory look. “Is that all you think I think about?”
Ulquiorra leaned his head back. “No, I imagine you take great consideration in food and fighting as well.”
Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who has a whole hangup on food, Ulquiorra. And I wasn’t gonna try to fuck you. Shit, I’m not some pervert like Szayelaporro.” Though he likely would have tried to cop a feel if the night had gone differently. But Ulquiorra didn’t need to know that.
A scowl spread on Ulquiorra’s lips, there and gone. “Prior evidence says otherwise, Grimmjow Jaegerjacques.”
Why did Ulquiorra have to make things difficult? Wasn’t Grimmjow’s wounded pride enough? Nnoitra wasn’t going to let the incident go. Fuck. He was going to have to be vulnerable. “I don’t want sex. I… you were gone and I… was lonely.” His throat tightened.
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened before he reeled his expression back in. Cold bastard. Fine, if he didn’t want to believe Grimmjow that was on him. Grimmjow turned, intent on bedding down in his own room when Ulquiorra snapped his fingers. A garganta opened in front of them while Ulquiorra stood.
He stepped inside and called, “You should learn to be more concise in your words. I thought you would make me go to bed alone tonight.”
What the hell? Did Ulquiorra just play him? No. It was impossible. Ulquiorra was oblivious to emotional nuances. No way he could – Ulquiorra turned to face him with the slightest smile Grimmjow had yet to see. “You fucking asshole.”
The smile twitched a little wider before disappearing. “Not tonight. I was not lying about being tired.” He took a step backward into the gaping maw of the garganta.
The seams began to stitch closed when Grimmjow leapt through. He kept close to Ulquiorra’s side and wondered what sort of exhaustion Ulquiorra could even feel. The man rarely appeared to tire physically, but his emotional energies always ran low. Was this a question worth asking? He doubted Ulquiorra would give him an answer even if he did.
The garganta opened over a dense, wooded area well away from anything populated. The air was cool with a salty taste that settled at the back of Grimmjow’s throat. They suppressed their energy and descended to the ground below. Animals scurried through the brush once their boots crunched against the dry earth. The woods went silent, and Grimmjow could hear the sound of crashing waves in the distance ahead of them.
The noise pulled him forward, and he pushed aside branches and brush until they came to a grassy cliff side that overlooked a small beach. The trees parted to give way to a clear night sky above them, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore reminded Grimmjow of one of their first outings. He grinned, drinking it all in, and dropped to the grass.
Ulquiorra stood beside him before he fanned out his coat tails, settling on the grass with his hands folded. He asked, “Why did you want to see the stars?”
Why did they ever want anything? Because wanting was human and often the only thing left to a hollow once they transformed. Endless, tiresome wanting.
Grimmjow rested his elbow on his knee. “Why do you like to watch sunsets?”
Ulquiorra crossed his legs at the ankles. “There’s a finality to them. The day becomes the night, a form of death.”
Grimmjow snorted. “Why are you like this?” Always so… empty. Didn’t it get tiring?
“Everything exists to die, Grimmjow.” Ulquiorra waved a hand around them. “Just as we did, and we will experience a second death, though it will be far more meaningless than the first that created us.”
Grimmjow’s eyes moved toward the waves on the beach. “You mean final.”
“Yes.”
Grimmjow had always known Ulquiorra’s worldview to be bleak, but he found himself wondering for the first time why. He also found himself curious why Ulquiorra continued to exist despite how he saw the world. If everything was meaningless, what kept Ulquiorra moving forward? If nothing mattered, why hadn’t he ended it when he became a hollow? Grimmjow knew why he existed, and he refused to relinquish the desire that followed him into death. But did Ulquiorra have something like that? And if he did, what was it? A selfish part of Grimmjow hoped it was him.
Grimmjow dropped against the grass to stare at the sky. He contemplated Ulquiorra’s question, tucking an arm under his head. “It’s quiet.”
Ulquiorra muttered, “The world is filled with unnecessary noise. It makes it difficult to think.”
Grimmjow settled his free hand on his stomach and eyed Ulquiorra’s back. The wind ruffled the edges of his hair, and Grimmjow wanted to brush his fingers through it. “There’s a lot going on in Las Noches. Someone’s always picking a fight.” He was grateful Ulquiorra didn’t call him out. He continued, “I thought you’d appreciate the quiet.”
Ulquiorra scoffed. “I arrived to you picking a fight.” So much for no call outs.
Grimmjow smiled. “You know I need exercise or I start biting.”
“So you do.”
Grimmjow turned his attention back to the stars. The thought he might have worried Ulquiorra came to mind. It was ridiculous, he doubted Ulquiorra would have been that upset if Nnoitra had injured him. If anything, Ulquiorra would have reprimanded Grimmjow for his stupidity and weakness, but he had gotten between them. He had blocked Nnoitra’s swing. That meant something.
Grimmjow sighed and settled his hand at the small of Ulquiorra’s back. Ulquiorra stiffened then leaned into the touch. It made Grimmjow smile, and he caught his fingers in the back of Ulquiorra’s coat to draw him down. Ulquiorra fought it for a second before he acquiesced. Even though they had been sharing space almost every night, it still surprised Grimmjow with how willingly Ulquiorra allowed it. It felt like something he needed to cherish.
Grimmjow slid his arm around Ulquiorra’s shoulders and pulled him closer.
Ulquiorra hissed in warning, “Grimmjow.”
Grimmjow squeezed Ulquiorra tighter. “I’m not copping a feel. I’m just… glad you’re back. I… hey, do you know constellations?” The vulnerability portion of their night was done.
Ulquiorra fixed him with a tired look before he said, “Yes.”
Oh, someone sounded sure of himself. Grimmjow lifted a hand to point at a random cluster of starts. “What’s that one then?”
Ulquiorra tilted his head back. “Andromeda.”
Grimmjow’s grin widened while he pointed out another collection. “And that one?”
Ulquiorra shifted to glance behind them. “Hydra”
Grimmjow rubbed Ulquiorra’s arm and felt the less than subtle shift of Ulquiorra settling in. He asked, “If everything is meaningless and none of this matters, why do you know the constellations?”
Ulquiorra laid a hand on Grimmjow’s stomach, right above his hollow hole. “There is knowledge we retain when we turn hollow and that knowledge remains even through our gestational periods into Arrancar. I likely knew about them while alive.”
Grimmjow didn’t believe that for a second. “You know people forget shit if they don’t use it, right?”
Ulquiorra was quiet before he mumbled, “I also have a book on constellations.”
Grimmjow smirked, “That’s what I thought.”
Ulquiorra lifted himself up on an elbow. “And do you know any constellations, Grimmjow?”
Why did everyone always assume he was a meathead? Entire battles had been plotted out by the location of the stars. “Yeah.”
Ulquiorra appeared unconvinced and turned his eyes skyward. He lifted his hand and pointed out a cluster toward the far right. “Then what is that one?”
“Ursa Minor.”
“Impressive.” Then why did Ulquiorra sound so dismissive?
Grimmjow chuckled. “Don’t get so snotty. I’m not an idiot.”
Ulquiorra’s lips twitched a fraction. “You certainly act idiotic enough.”
Grimmjow dug his fingers into Ulquiorra’s shoulders. “Dick.”
Ulquiorra sat up, and Grimmjow frowned. He settled when Ulquiorra laid his head against Grimmjow’s chest, pointing at the sky again. “And that arrangement?” His hand slid under Grimmjow’s jacket, settling over his heart.
Grimmjow stilled. How many people had felt Ulquiorra’s fingers stab through their chests? His palm was warm, rough from sword work, but it felt so gentle.
Grimmjow eased his arm down to wrap around Ulquiorra’s waist. The edge of his voice wavered. “Aries.” Grimmjow licked his lips.
Wordless, Ulquiorra lifted his hand again.
It felt different being like this: no missions, no scent of death in the air, and no maniac questioning their loyalty. Grimmjow dared to call it normal and almost laughed at himself. He sighed instead and rubbed circles against Ulquiorra’s hip while he rattled off the constellations he remembered. When he went silent, Ulquiorra resumed until they both quieted. The roar of the surf echoed below them.
Ulquiorra shifted again, and Grimmjow noticed his eyes were closed. They wouldn’t be able to stay much longer; even if the area was uninhabited, soul reapers tended not to care. But a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Grimmjow listened to Ulquiorra’s breathing and how it tickled against his bare chest. The want for more filtered through his mind, and he found himself wishing they could do this whenever they wanted. No fear of Aizen, no shinigami. Just the two of them. Maybe if Aizen managed to accomplish his suicidal ideals, they could have this. Life could have meaning and neither of them would need to scrape or claw for it. They could be free.
Just the two of them.