Grimmjow peered through the door of the familiar room, wondering if he was in. He almost couldn’t decide which would be easier, speaking to him or just leaving a note and disappearing. Seeing that messy tuft of white hair though he felt himself smile. Yeah, this would be better.
He knocked once but only to make him turn. Two quick strides later and he had his arms around him - for the last time. He held him close, pressed their lips together almost desperately, whispered sweet words in his ear. He didn’t want to go, not when this familiar touch and scent were so close to him.
"Take care of yerself, Shiro." he murmured, pulling back once more to get one last look at those inverted eyes, the ones that still had tiny shivers dancing up his spine. "And look after Ichi when I’m gone. He’ll need ya - and ya might need him."
He pressed one last kiss to those pale lips. “Goodbye, Shiro.” he whispered. “And thanks…for everythin’.”
Finally letting him go, Grimmjow walked away. He looked back once to smile and then he was gone. He took his memories with him, happy to have been able to share them with someone like him.
Shiro didn’t move.
Not when he saw the expression on Grimm’s face. Not when he moved toward him. Not when arms wrapped around his smaller frame and words ghosted across the shell of his ear.
Pretty words. Lies.
He never would’ve thought the word would apply to his sexta.
Teeth grit, canines rasping, it was almost more than he could do not to latch onto the male surrounding him and attempt to draw blood. The fuck kinda game was this? Did Grimm really think he could just leave because he decided he was ready? Did he think Shiro would just let him go? That he just got to walk away?
The list of people Shiro trusted was short. He didn’t let just anyone into a place where they would be able to betray him. Into the place where they could make him feel worse than hollow. Make him hurt. But Grimmjow— And now?
His sexta wanted to leave. Leave him. Leave his king.
Shiro would tie him up. He’d bind his misled, little arrancar with ropes and chains and teach him why it wasn’t a good idea to play with them this way. Maybe he’d engrave his name over king’s scar. A stamp of ownership was hard to misinterpret.
He was on the verge of it when Grimm’s next words— spoken deceptively soft for what they were— hit him. He nearly flinched. Nearly.
It was always a punch to the gut when Grimm mentioned Ichigo. But after all the time they’d spent together, it’d be a shock if he hadn’t learned any of Shiro’s weaknesses. And this one had never been much of a secret. Ichigo was always the stone that knocked his scale off balance. Just like Grimmjow undoubtedly knew it would. Fucker.
Lips brushed his and he remained motionless, except for the slight narrowing of black and gold eyes. He studied Grimmjow’s impossibly blue eyes, ignored the goodbye, it was bullshit anyways. If Grimm didn’t know it now, he would soon enough.
He grit his teeth again when the door closed, then let the irritation seep away as quickly as it’d come. A grin pulled across his lips, widening with every second.
"Ya can thank me later."
Let him leave? Not fucking likely.
"I didn’t say you had to," he replied, turning to face the hollow once he was sure they weren’t too close to anyone else spending time at the park. "Now, let’s talk about where the hell you’re staying, because it sure isn’t with me."
A hand slipped into the pocket holding his combat pass. He had a feeling Shiro wasn’t going to react so well to this conversation.
"Told ya. If ya don’t wanna share space, then you can be the one to stay at that pervert shopkeeper’s. Think I wanna keep all my pieces, an’ not wake up as one of his experiments.”
He watched Ichigo’s hand creep down toward his pass, and he growled, lunging to keep it from reaching the substitute’s chest. One hand wrapped around his king’s wrist, the other headed for his neck, snarling, “Should’a known ya would cheat.”
His face flamed at the suggestion the other breathed into his ear. He dared not turn to face him, his hand coming up to shield his face in mortification. He wouldn’t admit it, but the hand in his hair felt good.
And then his book fell to the floor, making him jump at the sudden loud sound. He trembled lightly, eyes directed firmly on the book on the floor. Ignoring all the eyes on him. It was just a book. It wasn’t anything that could really trigger that, but the sound… Like an explosion.
He picked up his book quickly, relaxing slightly when almost everyone turned back around to focus on the lesson. “Would you stop knocking my stuff onto the floor?!” he hissed under his breath, knowing full well his hollow could hear him.
Shiro propped his head on his fist, watching Ichigo attempt to appear calm and unaffected. But he hadn’t missed the tension in the muscles running down his neck or the stiff set of his shoulders. In a swift move, he leaned back up toward his king to whisper in his ear, even though there wasn’t any reason beyond making his king as uncomfortable as possible.
"Hm, such a bossy king." He traced black tipped nail down the back of Ichigo’s neck from under orange strands to where tanned skin disappeared into his collar. "Suppose I could find somethin’ better ta do if ya asked me nice. Somethin’ more agreeable."
"Think that yer poetry’s as bad as yer crappy drawings."
Grimmjow’s spine straightened a touch at the cold glass between his legs and he sucked in a short breath. He glanced down and raised an aqua brow as Shiro made himself comfortable.
His eyes narrowed as they focussed on that blue tongue licking over the icing. "Depends." he murmured, unconsciously licking his lips. "Ya gonna feed it to me?"
Shiro’s lips widened into a teasing smirk. Grimm knew exactly how to play him. Leaving the fork in his mouth he took the cake in one hand and pulled himself into the sexta’s lap with an arm around his neck, twisting gracefully to straddle his legs so that he could slant him a speculative look.
"Depends." He licked his lips even though he was sure he hadn’t gotten any icing on them. ”Have ya been a good kitten? Or a bad kitten?”
Five random facts:
1. I love coffee. Like a lot.
2. I’m totally ocd about my spaces being clean. I literally can’t think straight if my desk is messy.
3. I don’t have any pets.
4. I have more skirts than pants.
5. I’ve never broken a bone.
"Do it again, an’ I keep the finger."
He straightened from his spot and moved to keep up, arching a brow at the statement. “Hm? Why’s that?”