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“Try saying that to my face, bitch!”
“I have no problem saying it to your face; you’re the one walking away from me!”
There’s really no such thing as a peaceful day in Las Noches. The Espada and the other Arrancar who live there, making up the bulk of Aizen’s forces, learned that quickly.
But Nnoitra and Nel bring with them a very particular kind of chaos that have people throughout the labyrinthian palace shoving their hands over their ears and hoping they’ll move on quickly.
It’s no secret, the way the two hate each other. Not that many of the Espada actually like each other; they’re united by a common goal and a fear or respect for Aizen, and otherwise don’t bother with each other much.
The two of them are on an entirely different level.
It’s like the two of them can’t even exist without antagonizing each other, which makes a lot of people question why Aizen saw fit to assign the two to work together. Sure, Nelliel does a good job at keeping Nnoitra alive where otherwise his suicidal tendency to fight until he literally can’t fight anymore might deprive them of a powerful member of their army, but does that really make up for the fact that, as they walk the halls having just returned from their mission, they make everyone else in the vicinity completely miserable?
Soon, the two of them disappear around a corner, and even though their voices are still echoing down the white sandstone, Yylfordt Granz feels like he can stop holding his hands over his ears to block out the sound of their bickering.
“Fuck,” he mutters, not quiet enough to really be keeping it to himself, but he doesn’t think anyone else around him is really listening to him anyway.
It’s not like he’s the magical king of getting along with everyone— he can’t even manage to be in the same room as his twin brother without one of them starting a fight— but even he thinks that’s absolutely ridiculous.
His brother in question, oddly enough, doesn’t seem as bothered by the two of them, even though their voices are only just now fading into the distance. If anything, Szayel just looks… Amused.
Yylfordt turns to him with a frown.
“What are you smiling for?”
“Oh… Nothing. Just thinking about how relieving a little tension might help the two of them get along a little better, that’s all.”
Yylfordt rolls his eyes at his brother’s mind being in the gutter— not that it’s at all surprising. This is Szayel they’re talking about, after all. Still, he feels the need to say,
“Ugh, gross. Stop being such a weird pervert.”
“To each their own, nii-chan.”
“Stop that!”
Yylfordt decides he’s better off just vacating the premises before his brother starts saying even more weird shit, even if heading off to find Grimmjow and the others means he has to go in the same direction Nnoitra and Nel were heading in, meaning he could run right back into the annoying circus that is the two of them.
Still…
It’s the lesser of two evils, and he knows he made the right choice when, as he leaves the room, he hears Szayel chuckling from somewhere behind him.
But what he doesn’t know is that Szayel’s amusement— even if he is laughing at his brother being so creeped out by a simply nickname that he’s running away to go hide with his little Fraccion friends— has absolutely nothing to do with him.
No, he’s far more interested in what’s happening between the two Espada who made themselves the star of the show for a few brief moments before blowing off to who knows where.
Especially because Nnoitra’s quarters are in the opposite direction.
Normally, it would be perfectly normal for an Arrancar to be on high alert as soon as they hear someone trying to enter their bedroom in the dead of night. Or anyone, really, but as much as Nel doesn’t want to admit it, Hollows are more creatures of instinct than rationality— and that includes Arrancar, even if they’re better at managing it.
(When they want to be. There are plenty of Arrancar who would much rather just give themselves over to their instincts, after all. She doesn’t pretend to understand it.)
But tonight, when Nel— who is lying in bed but isn’t anything remotely resembling asleep— hears her door creak open, she’s not only not afraid, she’s completely expecting it.
After all, they didn’t put on that big show as soon as they got back for nothing.
She’s so familiar with the spiritual pressure of the person who ducks inside and quietly closes the door behind him before creeping across the room to her bedside that, if she wasn’t fully awake because of the anticipation, she might feel comfortable enough to fall right back asleep— and that’s an impressive amount of trust for someone living in a place like Las Noches, where you can never be sure who is looking to stab you in the back, you can only be sure that someone is waiting to do it.
Which is why they have to go through this whole farce in the first place.
Nnoitra doesn’t wait for an invitation; she hears the rustling of fabric but doesn’t turn towards the door to actually be able to see him, even though by the bright light of the full moon streaming in through her window she would have no issue whatsoever seeing him in all of his glory. No, she stays turned over on her side facing the wall with her back to the door— not a preferable sleeping position for an Arrancar, either— and does a very poor job of pretending she’s still asleep.
Not that it would have fooled Nnotira for a second regardless, because he could probably sense her anticipatory energy before he even set foot inside of her room. He’s always been good at sensing energy and things like that, after all.
Once he’s discarded enough clothes for his liking, Nnoitra climbs into bed behind her, and she movies automatically to make room for him— which would break the illusion if there was anything to break in the first place.
It doesn’t matter, though, because as soon as she feels the weight of him making the bed dip down, she turns over so she can actually properly see him.
“Hello there,” she says, tilting her head so she can get a good, proper view of him.
He looks exactly the same as he did that afternoon, when the two of them stormed in through the front door and made a huge scene, pretending to toss insults back and forth at each other until everyone was just wishing the two of them would finally kill each other and be done with it so they wouldn’t have to listen to them fighting anymore— or at least that was the impression she got from the death stares they were getting that she was trying her hardest not to look at as the two of them argued their way through the main hall, down the hallway, and eventually to her bedroom where they were able to steal a few quiet moments before Nnoitra had to go off and find Tesra before his poor Fraccion ended up coming looking for them.
“Hey,” Nnoitra says in return, and it’s literally the simplest response he could give but the way his tone is dropped to a low register not only to keep quiet but also because’s he’s just speaking normally and not making a big show of yelling at her makes a little shiver go down her spine.
“Did anyone…?”
“Didn’t see a single person,” Nnoitra replies before she even finishes asking her question, at the same time as he drapes an arm across her hips, pressing his huge hand into her lower back so he can pull her in closer. “It’s just us.”
A prospect that most people would think Nel gets more than enough of when the two of them were away on missions together, but which in truth she will never get enough of.
Not when the amount of time the two of them have together— to actually be together and not have to put on their big act— is so limited.
But right now, she doesn’t think about that. She only thinks about how warm Nnoitra’s hand feels on her bare skin (because of course she’s not wearing anything to bed, why would she be doing that when she’s expecting him to show up) and how nicely their bodies fit together in spite of the fact that Nnoitra is built like a hand-pulled noodle and she’s considerably shorter and wider than he is.
She only thinks about the fact that his lips are surprisingly soft for someone who spends all of his time swinging a giant weapon around in the desert, about the fact that his sharp little canines hurt when they nip against the shell of her ear and he knows that they do and that’s why he does it and grins like a sadist when she flinches or lets out a little noise and gives him a stern look.
She only thinks about the fact that the two of them are together, here and now, and for just a little while, nothing else matters.
Caring is a sign of weakness.
That’s what the Espada believe. That caring about each other is a sign of weakness— not because there’s no strength in teamwork (they all know that there is, even if most of them choose to ignore that fact, sometimes rather violently), but because when their world is as bleak and hostile as it is, you can’t afford to care about anyone when they might be gone the next day. The weakness of grief isn’t tolerated.
And that’s why they have to hide… This.
It’s easy enough. When the two first met, when Aizen first shoved the two of them together in hopes that Nel would be able to curb Nnoitra’s more self-destructive tendencies (not wanting him to get killed until the appropriate time and place, of course) and Nnoitra would be able to bring out a more violent side of Nelliel that would counteract her unwillingness to fight for no reason, they hated each other with a passion. The two of them could hardly stand to be in the same room as each other without wanting to strangle each other. Their world views were just too different— and what Aizen hoped would happen didn’t. Nel struggled to rein in Nnoitra and Nnoitra just became frustrated with Nel. Add on to that the fact that he was so openly against having a woman be in charge of him or lording over him in any capacity, and it was pretty much a disaster
And then something just… Clicked.
Maybe it was just frustration piling up and a need to break the tension, combined with lust, because no matter how much the two of them might have tried to deny it in the early days (and would still deny it to anyone asking now), they’ve been attracted to each other— physically, at the very least— from the start.
Maybe it was a slow softening towards each other that happened so gradually neither of them really even realized it was happening— Nel realizing she didn’t want Nnoitra to die not just because she saw it as pointless but because she would miss him, Nnoitra coming to realize that he didn’t just keep picking fights with Nel to prove his superiority but because he wanted an excuse to be around her, something like that.
Whatever it was— it’s gotten them to where they are now.
But they can’t let anyone else know that it’s happening. Nel won’t even tell her Fraccion, and she knows Nnoitra hasn’t told Tesra, either. As much as she hates to lie to them, there’s too much of a chance it will reach someone else, someone who would be less understanding of the matter.
Not only would it make them lose respect in the eyes of the other Espada, make them seem weak— something that’s already dangerous enough on its own even though they’re all tentatively allies united under Aizen’s banner— there’s just too much possibility that it will be used against them by someone… Opportunistic.
So they keep it hidden, put on the show of hating each other. It almost becomes a game after a certain point. They definitely don’t need to do it every time they’re within spitting distance of each other— surely people wouldn’t believe they suddenly liked each other just because the two of them chose to ignore each other instead of spewing profanities at each other— but it’s almost fun, seeing how dramatically they can pretend to hate each other and how much people wince when they see them coming.
Which is why, after spending an entire meeting glaring at each other to cover the fact that they’re just shy of playing footsie under the table while pretending to listen to whatever Aizen is droning on about this time (as much as they all respect and fear him, none of them are afraid to admit— at least when he’s not listening— that most of his meetings are a little… Unnecessary), the two of them break out in one of their usual ‘arguments’ as soon as they step out of the meeting room.
“If you tried learning some self-restraint, maybe Aizen would give us more missions.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The reason he never gives us anything decent to do is because you’re an embarrassment. You won’t even swing your weapon without a fucking invitation.”
It’s the sort of argument they might have had for real when they first met, but now it comes with a sparkle in the eye, a teasing sort of understanding that as soon as the two of them have the chance, they’re going to sneak off somewhere and work out all of the ‘frustration’.
Nnoitra can barely manage to even keep the snarl on his face; it’s obvious he wants to grin instead, but he manages to keep up the facade enough that all of the other Espada look awkward and decide to give them a wide berth.
That’s when Nel decides she can’t wait any longer; the meeting room has emptied out, everyone has gone off to do their own thing, and there’s really no one around to keep an eye on them any longer.
So she grabs Nnoitra by the wrist and pulls him off in the direction of the nearest hallway she can think of that’s sure to be empty.
She’s so caught up in the idea of wiping that sneer of Nnoitra’s face that she doesn’t notice that they’re not alone— not really.
Szayel has had his suspicions about Nnoitra and Nel for a while now, but he never thought that an opportunity to confirm everything he’s ever thought about the two of them would just… Fall into his lap like this.
It’s easy for everyone to forget that, in spite of his current position as a Privaron, Szayel was an Espada once— before he decided that Yylfordt’s violent tendencies were only dragging him down and he needed to be rid of him, even if that meant excising a great deal of his own power.
He was an Espada once— and if he has his way, he’ll be one again before long, especially if his research continues the way it is— that is to say, perfectly.
All he needs to do it create a job opening for himself, and the easiest way to do that is to watch the other Espada, look for a weakness he can exploit.
Nnoitra and Nel’s arguments are… Convincing. It’s not as though it’s any secret the two of them have hated each other since the day they first met.
But if there’s one thing Szayel knows, it’s lust. And that’s exactly what he sees in their eyes— smells in their pheromones, even— when the two of them look at each other. Passion, yes, but not a hateful sort of passion.
While everyone else looks at the two of them and sees two people about to tear each other’s throats out, Szayel looks at them and sees two people about to rip each others’ clothes off.
Of course, that doesn’t really mean that much. Lust is an interesting thing that can be completely devoid of any sense of emotional attachment. All it takes is some physical attraction and the right libido and there you have it.
And yet, there’s something that tells him that’s not the case with the two of them. After all, there’s genuine criticisms in their very loud, very public arguments— the sort of things they wouldn’t really be able to just make up on the spot without being based in some kind of truth.
And if they really did, at one point, hate each other with the same level of passion they now look at each other with… Then it must be more than just a physical attraction drawing the two of them to each other. After all, why would they willingly put up with someone they so obviously hate if they’re only after sex, when the two of them are surrounded by so many other options?
Szayel is dramatic, but that doesn’t mean he’s not good at fading into the background when he wants to. And no one ever really takes notice of the Privaron anyway, especially not the Espada, to whom he might as well be the dirt in the tread of their shoes— a sentiment he’s going to forcefeed back to all of them if he has his way.
When Nel seems to think she and Nnoitra are alone and grabs him by the wrist to pull him off somewhere, Szayel sees his chance— and after giving them plenty of space to go off and not be noticed as he follows, he’s not surprised by what he sees when he pulls out his pocket mirror to be able to see around the corner to the nearly abandoned corridor they’ve disappeared down.
Nel has Nnoitra pushed up against the wall, and they say something too quietly for him to be able to hear quietly— just before Nnoitra, with his hands on Nel’s shoulders, flips their positions.
It might almost be mistaken for an actual physical altercation if not for the way Nnoitra slips his leg between Nel’s, and Nel tilts her head back to expose her throat to Nnoitra, who immediately dives in to sink his teeth in— and not in the ‘ripping out her throat’ sort of way.
As much as Szayel wants to stick around and see more, he knows if either of them catch him— if they know that someone knows their little secret— he’s dead. So he tucks his pocket mirror away and walks off as quietly as possible to avoid attracting attention from either of them as he goes.
It’s only when he’s far enough away that he knows they won’t be able to hear him that he lets himself laugh— a laugh that turns into an almost maniacal cackle before tapering out and leaving him humming as he walks down the halls, hands folded behind his back, as he both considers what he’s going to toy with next in his lab and which one of them will be easier to kill first.