Dead Espadas: 9. Tom Cat and Green-Eyed Monster
9. Tom Cat and Green-Eyed Monster
Orihime returned with a big fluffy peach towel and a small smile on her face, until she got a better look at Grimmjow's scowl. She offered Ulquiorra the towel, eyes resting on his now intact neck.
"You are dead. I mean, living again." She nodded slowly. A mixture of surrealism and delight at seeing him again rushed through her. She watched the water drip from his hair as he returned Grimmjow's lethal look.
She looked to the taller Espada, too easily reading the simmer on his face. "Can he borrow ..." She rethought her query, the glower he leveled on her emanating heat in the already stuffy hot apartment. She looked to Ulquiorra still dripping water on her floor as he unfolded the towel. "You're soaking wet. Have you been here long?"
"A few hours," he said, eyes on the Espada waiting to pounce on anyone within range. He looked back to Orihime as he wiped his face and hair. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I didn't know where else to go."
"Oh, that's no problem. It's ... Here, let me take that while you dry off," she said, reaching for his mask still tucked under one arm.
His arm tensed around it possessively.
"I won't break it," she said gently, nodding, smiling kindly. "I promise."
He slowly gave her the remnant of his Espada days, and dried his hair into tufts under Grimmjow's toxic study.
She carefully cradled the mask in both arms. "You can't stay in those clothes. You'll catch a cold. You can change into dry, and I'll -"
"Its summer, woman," Grimmjow barked, gesturing to the kitchen window with a broad swipe of his arm. "It's hotter than hell in here!"
"Summer colds are the worst," she said to him, recalling her fabrication to Tatsuki, summoning her courage, and Tsubaki on stand-by, just in case. "He's got to wear something. Can he borrow some of your clothes?"
"Are you insane?" Grimmjow burnt a livid vocal line through every word on the list of banned curses. Orihime clapped a hand over his mouth, still careful with the mask in her arm.
He ripped her hand down. "- mother-fathering emo poser comes through your door and -"
"Please?" she said, timidly insistent, gritting her teeth against his fingers clutched vise-like around her wrist. "Just 'til I can dry his -"
"That's okay, Orihime," Ulquiorra said, green eyes on his former colleague's hold on her. "Let her go, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow turned his glare on the slender wrist in his hand. He dropped it.
Orihime sent him a disappointed look and nodded to Ulquiorra. "Come on. You can dry off in the bathroom and use a towel until I get your clothes dried."
He followed her to the bathroom, glancing into her darkened bedroom through the open door as they went, one eyebrow quirking when he realized what it was.
Grimmjow watched them go into the bathroom, the door remaining open, the upper ranked Espada managing to look more forlorn and needy than ever. Their voices were low, not carrying to where he still stood at the door, Orihime's smile and sudden eagerness bringing a flush to her cheeks, which he could see in the mirror as she spoke.
She exited the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her and went into her room. Grimmjow followed.
Almost. He stood in the doorway as she flicked on the overhead light and cautiously set the mask on her dresser and rummaged through her small closet, tossing possible candidates of clothing onto the bed. He scowled at the sweatshirts and large t-shirts.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She gave him a sharp look, frowning until she saw he was technically not in her room. But close. "He has to wear something while his clothes dry." She held up a sweatshirt with Hello Kitty on it, and threw it on the bed before reaching back into the closet. "Since you won't share."
"Your clothes will come closer to fitting him than mine. He's a skinny runt," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "I can't believe you."
"Me?" She pulled out another large t-shirt, nodding at it.
"You act like I asked for your first born when I showed up, and now you're practically falling all over yourself welcoming that wet bat in the middle of the night." He fought back the growl that suddenly wanted out, arms uncrossing and hands making tight fists at his sides. "That's why you left the door unlocked, isn't it?"
She looked to him with utter shock. "No. I fell asleep and -"
"That's why." He nodded as she hugged the t-shirt closer to her chest. "You knew he was going to show up -"
"I didn't know, Grimmjow. How could I know?" She took a few steps toward the door, but he didn't move, something close to dare on his features. She tried to force herself into taking more steps, but she remained a few feet away, out of arm's reach if he stayed in the doorway. "I have to give this to him."
"Like hell."
He disappeared into the other room, only to reappear a few seconds later with one of his new shirts in hand. Without a knock he opened the bathroom door a few inches, whipped the shirt in and pulled the door shut again with a slam. Muted words came from the bathroom.
He turned on Orihime still in her bedroom doorway. "He's not wearing your clothes. Put your shirt away."
"Thank you." She set the t-shirt on her dresser and collected the mask.
"Don't thank me! Dammit, don't you know an insult when you hear one?" He was going to say more, but she slipped past him, the mask in her arms like an infant as she went into the kitchen.
She set it on the counter and looked to the overhead cupboards, switching on the light by the sink. She opened one cupboard door, eyes moving over the packages and boxes of food items inside, feeling Grimmjow near her. "Are you hungry?"
"Me?"
She turned to look up at him, now standing directly behind her. "Yes. Are you?"
He reached over her head and grabbed the nearest package of ramen soup. "This one."
She took the small package, and then caught his hand as it moved away. "Is that from the parrot?"
"Damn bird."
He watched her fingers pause on the short, slightly red lines at the back of his hand before she quickly withdrew her hand. A self-conscious blush rose over her cheeks as she turned and grabbed another package of ramen from the cupboard.
"Don't ever come in when I'm in there again," Ulquiorra said, startling them both from where he stood beside the refrigerator. He was looking at Grimmjow.
Orihime spun to see him, her blush increasing, this time because the former Espada Four was wearing only a peach towel around his hips and a blue shirt much too large for him, but neatly buttoned.
"Oh, pants ..." she said.
"Not pants," Grimmjow said, eyeing the new addition to the household. "Just get his damn clothes dried."
Orihime eased away from him to a bottom cupboard and found two saucepans. She watched Ulquiorra look anxiously to his mask. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"
He looked from her to Grimmjow's fuming features and back again, one hand slicking back his combed hair that insisted on flopping over his face. "Don't trouble yourself, Orihime."
"Oh, it's no trouble. You must be hungry." She ran water in the pots for the various flavors of soup and set them over the small stove burners and turned the burner control knobs. She tightened the ties at her robe, too warm in the kitchen as the Espadas watched each other warily. She brightened. "Let's sit down."
Grimmjow and Ulquiorra found themselves on opposite sides of Orihime's low table at the edge of the kitchen as she served them glasses of Orange Crush while she hovered at the stove.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked, this time determined to get an answer.
Ulquiorra held the glass of orange soda, listening to it fizz, frowning slightly. He glanced at Grimmjow's glass. "Is yours making noises?"
"What are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked again, hand tightening around his glass.
Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at the larger man. "How long have you been here?"
"A helluva lot longer than you'll be."
"You don't live here."
"Damn if I don't."
Ulquiorra looked to where Orihime was pouring two bowls of soup from the pots. "Why here?"
"Why are you here?"
Ulquiorra's attention was on what he could see of Orihime's legs beneath her short robe and pajama shorts. He looked back to Grimmjow. "Where do you sleep at night?"
"None of your damn business, rat." Grimmjow's glare settled on the other man's hair. "You combed your hair."
Ulquiorra nodded.
Grimmjow's ire spiked. "Which one?"
"All of them, moron."
"Not that. Which brush?"
Slow realization fell over Ulquiorra. "Which one was yours?"
"The blue one."
Ulquiorra didn't admit it, but the sour look on his face made it too clear.
There was a long trading of glares, broken by Orihime bringing in two steaming bowls of soup.
"Leave the blue one alone," Grimmjow said through a growl as Orihime placed the bowls before them both. "Leave the purple one alone, too."
"Oh, I'll get the toppings -" she began.
"Sit down; its fine," Grimmjow said.
She gave him half a frown, but knelt at the side of the table, smiling when she looked to Ulquiorra as he testily ladled a spoon of soup. "Are you staying here?"
"Hell, no, he's not staying here," Grimmjow snapped at her. "Damn, girl, he just shows up and -"
"I meant is he in the Living World permanently," she said, the late hour emboldening her usual timidity.
"If you're asking if I'm dead to Hueco Mundo, yes," Ulquiorra said, intrigued by the smile crossing her face. He was tempted to return the gesture. He looked back down at the soup, steadying a spoonful of it.
She gave Grimmjow a cautious look before turning to Ulquiorra again. "Do you want some ketchup? Or honey? How about chocolate syrup? It'll sweeten it up some if -"
"Ketchup," Grimmjow decided before she could run the whole list of condiments she owned.
"Okay!" She popped up from the table and went to the refrigerator.
Grimmjow turned on Ulquiorra. "Why did you get to keep your mask?"
Ulquiorra shrugged. "I asked."
Grimmjow glared at the mask on the kitchen counter.
"You didn't ask for yours?" There was an element of amusement in Ulquiorra's tone.
"Your Espada days are past, fourth rank. Get over it." Grimmjow took a large bite of the scalding soup, ignoring the burning path it made as he swallowed. "Why would I want a souvenir from the biggest waste of my time?"
Ulquiorra watched him swallow. "Truly spoken like a sixth rank."
"You were nothing but a lap dog." Grimmjow watched Orihime return, eyes on the smile she offered Ulquiorra.
She set assorted bottles on the table and sat down, before immediately standing again. "I'll get your clothes into the dryer."
Both Espadas watched her move to the bathroom and return with the wet clothes Ulquiorra had arrived in and go to the small washer-dryer set near the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of soda in the kitchen and rejoined them at the table as a crack of thunder sounded and the rain increased in force outside.
"You can add more flavor with these," she said, pushing the bottles closer to Ulquiorra's bowl. Her eyes rested on his neck, softening as they rose to his. "Oh, can you swallow all right?"
"Of course he can, dammit," Grimmjow said.
"Its fine," Ulquiorra said to her, collecting another bite of soup in the spoon. He raised it to his lips and tasted it.
Orihime looked to the mask on the counter behind her, and then to Grimmjow. "You didn't want your mask?"
"No," he lied.
Ulquiorra swallowed the chicken soup slowly, eyes on the bottles of colorful condiments before him. "He didn't think to ask for his."
"Bullshit," Grimmjow growled.
"You didn't," Ulquiorra insisted.
Grimmjow took another large bite of beef soup.
Orihime looked curiously between them, and then flipped open the ketchup bottle cap, followed by the German mustard and chocolate syrup lids. "Try these. They're very good on soup."
Ulquiorra looked to each of the bottles, and took the jar of mustard.
Grimmjow grinned at his choice.
"Oh, they made you change your nails," Orihime said, groaning slightly but catching herself before reaching a hand to his when he poured a large dollop of mustard into his soup bowl.
"It's no problem," Ulquiorra said with a sigh, frowning at his bare, pale fingernails.
"Oh." She nodded.
Ulquiorra stirred the spicy condiment into his soup, sparing Grimmjow a sharp look. He took a bite of the mustard-laced soup. "I didn't realize you two knew each other so well."
Grimmjow grinned, and this time meant it, even as a crimson blush claimed Orihime's cheeks.
"We don't," she said, clearing her throat. "Just recently."
"Oh?" Ulquiorra sized up her robe and what he could see of her camisole top beneath. "Recently? So ... he's really living here?"
Orihime couldn't say no fast enough, but nor was it not true. Not entirely. "Just until ..." She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five a.m. "Tomorrow. Not later today, but tomorrow. Thursday."
Ulquiorra frowned slightly at her, leaning over the table, grimacing more as he got to a spot of mustard in the bite of noodles and broth. "But he has been?"
"Yes." Grimmjow quickly finished his soup and pushed the bowl away.
"Well, it was a matter of ... Kind of ..." Orihime began again, shifting to sit on her cushion better, her knee making contact with Ulquiorra's beneath the table. She hastily moved it away. "Oh ... sorry."
He looked to her quickly at the touch, smiling ever so faintly. "That's all right."
Grimmjow had observed the shift in expressions of both Orihime and Ulquiorra, the brief trading of furtive glances and her flush at what he could only imagine happening under the table.
"Keep your hands to yourself, bat," he said darkly to Ulquiorra.
"What are you talking about?" Ulquiorra enjoyed the seething look ebbing onto Grimmjow's face. "I'm not the one sitting around in my pajamas with her in the middle of the night."
Grimmjow set one forearm on the table, leaning over it closer to Ulquiorra, making Orihime sit straighter and away from the table despite the motion not being directed at her. "She's not your captive now. You have no say in anything she does. And you're the one in borrowed clothes and a towel."
Orihime didn't like the thickening atmosphere that developed as Ulquiorra wordlessly ate, the stifling feeling seemingly magnified by the humid room. A hundred questions skipped through her mind, but the late hour and the barely contained infuriation on Grimmjow's face made her hold off on asking.
"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked Ulquiorra, her hands nervously clasped before her on the table.
"Not yet." He finished his soup, leaving a layer of soppy mustard in the center of the bowl bottom.
"Oh ..." She bit her lip, watching the threatening look crossing Grimmjow's face. "Well, I suppose ... you have to stay somewhere."
"It's no concern of yours where he stays, Orihime," Grimmjow spat. "You fed him; you're done."
"Don't speak to her that way," Ulquiorra said, more than suggesting.
Orihime tried to work up a smile for Ulquiorra. "I'll go check if your clothes are dry."
She hopped to her feet and went to the dryer, retying her robe as she went.
Ulquiorra made a slightly uncomfortable face at the bowl before him. "Is this good? The food she made, is it good?"
Grimmjow nodded automatically. "Of course it's good. Not like that bland shit you get from the vendors on the streets."
Ulquiorra swallowed down a pop of heartburn that flamed up his throat. "Oh."
Orihime returned quickly, smiling, holding Ulquiorra's folded and still warm clothes to him. He stood up and made a small bow, catching his towel as it slipped at his hips, bringing a mumbled curse from Grimmjow who watched the handoff intently, eyes lingering on Orihime's movements. "They dried really fast because they're all cotton."
"Thank you, Orihime," Ulquiorra said. "That's very kind of you. I'll change."
He went to the bathroom, leaving her to face Grimmjow's scowl as he stood up from the table. Grimmjow looked to where her hand was clasped over her opposite wrist. She took a step back as he rounded the table.
His eyes rose from her arm to her face, the glare falling away. "I didn't mean that," he said lowly, voice devoid of the irritation she'd expected. He nodded to her hold on her wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt your arm."
Her hand dropped from her wrist. "Oh, it's okay." She nodded too many times. "It doesn't hurt."
"Don't lie to me."
She looked down at the light red mark at the side of her wrist, shaking her head again. "It's all right."
He glanced to the bathroom, and then to where her bedroom doorway opened across from it. He looked back to her. "You're going to ask him to stay, aren't you?"
"I can't very well send him away," she said, inching back as he stepped nearer.
"You had no problem telling me to get the hell out when I showed up," he reminded, taking another step.
She shook her head, eyes widening at the grave look on his face. "You surprised me."
He raised an eyebrow. "He didn't surprise you?"
"Well, yes, but ... Well, not as much as you did." She bit her lip, nodding. "He doesn't have any place else to go."
"Neither did I," he said, making an effort to keep his tone from raising.
"I didn't throw you out, Grimmjow," she said, trying to smile a little. "You're still here."
He snorted an unamused laugh. "How long are you going to give him? Five days? Does he have to make a list of words not to use?"
She frowned, eyes going to the bathroom door as it opened. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."
"How long?" he asked again, voice low as Ulquiorra stepped out of the bathroom.
She forced herself to respond. "I don't know. I ... I'm ..."
She left off speaking as Ulquiorra joined them, now in his white clothes from earlier, his green eyes sharp on Grimmjow's proximity to her. He held up a handful of crumpled and now-dried roll of bills.
Grimmjow grinned at Orihime, nothing in the smile to make her want to return it. "Oh, he has money. That should help."
She nodded, taking a deep breath, which drew both Espadas' attention to her camisole. "I was thinking, Ulquiorra," she said as his eyes rose to hers, "if you have no place else to go," she smiled a little as the line at his mouth relaxed into a barely detectable curve, "you could stay here. For a while. Unless you have other plans."
Grimmjow's jaw set tight.
An almost smile lent Ulquiorra's face. "That's very generous of you, Orihime. I have nowhere else to go."
She nodded, caught between wanting to smile fully and the growing glower ingrained on Grimmjow's face. "Good."
Grimmjow turned on her. "Good?"
She recoiled a step back, hand clutching her robe edges at her chest.
"Yes," Ulquiorra said, enjoying the other Espada's discomfort. "She said good.
Orihime returned with a big fluffy peach towel and a small smile on her face, until she got a better look at Grimmjow's scowl. She offered Ulquiorra the towel, eyes resting on his now intact neck.
"You are dead. I mean, living again." She nodded slowly. A mixture of surrealism and delight at seeing him again rushed through her. She watched the water drip from his hair as he returned Grimmjow's lethal look.
She looked to the taller Espada, too easily reading the simmer on his face. "Can he borrow ..." She rethought her query, the glower he leveled on her emanating heat in the already stuffy hot apartment. She looked to Ulquiorra still dripping water on her floor as he unfolded the towel. "You're soaking wet. Have you been here long?"
"A few hours," he said, eyes on the Espada waiting to pounce on anyone within range. He looked back to Orihime as he wiped his face and hair. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I didn't know where else to go."
"Oh, that's no problem. It's ... Here, let me take that while you dry off," she said, reaching for his mask still tucked under one arm.
His arm tensed around it possessively.
"I won't break it," she said gently, nodding, smiling kindly. "I promise."
He slowly gave her the remnant of his Espada days, and dried his hair into tufts under Grimmjow's toxic study.
She carefully cradled the mask in both arms. "You can't stay in those clothes. You'll catch a cold. You can change into dry, and I'll -"
"Its summer, woman," Grimmjow barked, gesturing to the kitchen window with a broad swipe of his arm. "It's hotter than hell in here!"
"Summer colds are the worst," she said to him, recalling her fabrication to Tatsuki, summoning her courage, and Tsubaki on stand-by, just in case. "He's got to wear something. Can he borrow some of your clothes?"
"Are you insane?" Grimmjow burnt a livid vocal line through every word on the list of banned curses. Orihime clapped a hand over his mouth, still careful with the mask in her arm.
He ripped her hand down. "- mother-fathering emo poser comes through your door and -"
"Please?" she said, timidly insistent, gritting her teeth against his fingers clutched vise-like around her wrist. "Just 'til I can dry his -"
"That's okay, Orihime," Ulquiorra said, green eyes on his former colleague's hold on her. "Let her go, Grimmjow."
Grimmjow turned his glare on the slender wrist in his hand. He dropped it.
Orihime sent him a disappointed look and nodded to Ulquiorra. "Come on. You can dry off in the bathroom and use a towel until I get your clothes dried."
He followed her to the bathroom, glancing into her darkened bedroom through the open door as they went, one eyebrow quirking when he realized what it was.
Grimmjow watched them go into the bathroom, the door remaining open, the upper ranked Espada managing to look more forlorn and needy than ever. Their voices were low, not carrying to where he still stood at the door, Orihime's smile and sudden eagerness bringing a flush to her cheeks, which he could see in the mirror as she spoke.
She exited the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her and went into her room. Grimmjow followed.
Almost. He stood in the doorway as she flicked on the overhead light and cautiously set the mask on her dresser and rummaged through her small closet, tossing possible candidates of clothing onto the bed. He scowled at the sweatshirts and large t-shirts.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She gave him a sharp look, frowning until she saw he was technically not in her room. But close. "He has to wear something while his clothes dry." She held up a sweatshirt with Hello Kitty on it, and threw it on the bed before reaching back into the closet. "Since you won't share."
"Your clothes will come closer to fitting him than mine. He's a skinny runt," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "I can't believe you."
"Me?" She pulled out another large t-shirt, nodding at it.
"You act like I asked for your first born when I showed up, and now you're practically falling all over yourself welcoming that wet bat in the middle of the night." He fought back the growl that suddenly wanted out, arms uncrossing and hands making tight fists at his sides. "That's why you left the door unlocked, isn't it?"
She looked to him with utter shock. "No. I fell asleep and -"
"That's why." He nodded as she hugged the t-shirt closer to her chest. "You knew he was going to show up -"
"I didn't know, Grimmjow. How could I know?" She took a few steps toward the door, but he didn't move, something close to dare on his features. She tried to force herself into taking more steps, but she remained a few feet away, out of arm's reach if he stayed in the doorway. "I have to give this to him."
"Like hell."
He disappeared into the other room, only to reappear a few seconds later with one of his new shirts in hand. Without a knock he opened the bathroom door a few inches, whipped the shirt in and pulled the door shut again with a slam. Muted words came from the bathroom.
He turned on Orihime still in her bedroom doorway. "He's not wearing your clothes. Put your shirt away."
"Thank you." She set the t-shirt on her dresser and collected the mask.
"Don't thank me! Dammit, don't you know an insult when you hear one?" He was going to say more, but she slipped past him, the mask in her arms like an infant as she went into the kitchen.
She set it on the counter and looked to the overhead cupboards, switching on the light by the sink. She opened one cupboard door, eyes moving over the packages and boxes of food items inside, feeling Grimmjow near her. "Are you hungry?"
"Me?"
She turned to look up at him, now standing directly behind her. "Yes. Are you?"
He reached over her head and grabbed the nearest package of ramen soup. "This one."
She took the small package, and then caught his hand as it moved away. "Is that from the parrot?"
"Damn bird."
He watched her fingers pause on the short, slightly red lines at the back of his hand before she quickly withdrew her hand. A self-conscious blush rose over her cheeks as she turned and grabbed another package of ramen from the cupboard.
"Don't ever come in when I'm in there again," Ulquiorra said, startling them both from where he stood beside the refrigerator. He was looking at Grimmjow.
Orihime spun to see him, her blush increasing, this time because the former Espada Four was wearing only a peach towel around his hips and a blue shirt much too large for him, but neatly buttoned.
"Oh, pants ..." she said.
"Not pants," Grimmjow said, eyeing the new addition to the household. "Just get his damn clothes dried."
Orihime eased away from him to a bottom cupboard and found two saucepans. She watched Ulquiorra look anxiously to his mask. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"
He looked from her to Grimmjow's fuming features and back again, one hand slicking back his combed hair that insisted on flopping over his face. "Don't trouble yourself, Orihime."
"Oh, it's no trouble. You must be hungry." She ran water in the pots for the various flavors of soup and set them over the small stove burners and turned the burner control knobs. She tightened the ties at her robe, too warm in the kitchen as the Espadas watched each other warily. She brightened. "Let's sit down."
Grimmjow and Ulquiorra found themselves on opposite sides of Orihime's low table at the edge of the kitchen as she served them glasses of Orange Crush while she hovered at the stove.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked, this time determined to get an answer.
Ulquiorra held the glass of orange soda, listening to it fizz, frowning slightly. He glanced at Grimmjow's glass. "Is yours making noises?"
"What are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked again, hand tightening around his glass.
Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at the larger man. "How long have you been here?"
"A helluva lot longer than you'll be."
"You don't live here."
"Damn if I don't."
Ulquiorra looked to where Orihime was pouring two bowls of soup from the pots. "Why here?"
"Why are you here?"
Ulquiorra's attention was on what he could see of Orihime's legs beneath her short robe and pajama shorts. He looked back to Grimmjow. "Where do you sleep at night?"
"None of your damn business, rat." Grimmjow's glare settled on the other man's hair. "You combed your hair."
Ulquiorra nodded.
Grimmjow's ire spiked. "Which one?"
"All of them, moron."
"Not that. Which brush?"
Slow realization fell over Ulquiorra. "Which one was yours?"
"The blue one."
Ulquiorra didn't admit it, but the sour look on his face made it too clear.
There was a long trading of glares, broken by Orihime bringing in two steaming bowls of soup.
"Leave the blue one alone," Grimmjow said through a growl as Orihime placed the bowls before them both. "Leave the purple one alone, too."
"Oh, I'll get the toppings -" she began.
"Sit down; its fine," Grimmjow said.
She gave him half a frown, but knelt at the side of the table, smiling when she looked to Ulquiorra as he testily ladled a spoon of soup. "Are you staying here?"
"Hell, no, he's not staying here," Grimmjow snapped at her. "Damn, girl, he just shows up and -"
"I meant is he in the Living World permanently," she said, the late hour emboldening her usual timidity.
"If you're asking if I'm dead to Hueco Mundo, yes," Ulquiorra said, intrigued by the smile crossing her face. He was tempted to return the gesture. He looked back down at the soup, steadying a spoonful of it.
She gave Grimmjow a cautious look before turning to Ulquiorra again. "Do you want some ketchup? Or honey? How about chocolate syrup? It'll sweeten it up some if -"
"Ketchup," Grimmjow decided before she could run the whole list of condiments she owned.
"Okay!" She popped up from the table and went to the refrigerator.
Grimmjow turned on Ulquiorra. "Why did you get to keep your mask?"
Ulquiorra shrugged. "I asked."
Grimmjow glared at the mask on the kitchen counter.
"You didn't ask for yours?" There was an element of amusement in Ulquiorra's tone.
"Your Espada days are past, fourth rank. Get over it." Grimmjow took a large bite of the scalding soup, ignoring the burning path it made as he swallowed. "Why would I want a souvenir from the biggest waste of my time?"
Ulquiorra watched him swallow. "Truly spoken like a sixth rank."
"You were nothing but a lap dog." Grimmjow watched Orihime return, eyes on the smile she offered Ulquiorra.
She set assorted bottles on the table and sat down, before immediately standing again. "I'll get your clothes into the dryer."
Both Espadas watched her move to the bathroom and return with the wet clothes Ulquiorra had arrived in and go to the small washer-dryer set near the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of soda in the kitchen and rejoined them at the table as a crack of thunder sounded and the rain increased in force outside.
"You can add more flavor with these," she said, pushing the bottles closer to Ulquiorra's bowl. Her eyes rested on his neck, softening as they rose to his. "Oh, can you swallow all right?"
"Of course he can, dammit," Grimmjow said.
"Its fine," Ulquiorra said to her, collecting another bite of soup in the spoon. He raised it to his lips and tasted it.
Orihime looked to the mask on the counter behind her, and then to Grimmjow. "You didn't want your mask?"
"No," he lied.
Ulquiorra swallowed the chicken soup slowly, eyes on the bottles of colorful condiments before him. "He didn't think to ask for his."
"Bullshit," Grimmjow growled.
"You didn't," Ulquiorra insisted.
Grimmjow took another large bite of beef soup.
Orihime looked curiously between them, and then flipped open the ketchup bottle cap, followed by the German mustard and chocolate syrup lids. "Try these. They're very good on soup."
Ulquiorra looked to each of the bottles, and took the jar of mustard.
Grimmjow grinned at his choice.
"Oh, they made you change your nails," Orihime said, groaning slightly but catching herself before reaching a hand to his when he poured a large dollop of mustard into his soup bowl.
"It's no problem," Ulquiorra said with a sigh, frowning at his bare, pale fingernails.
"Oh." She nodded.
Ulquiorra stirred the spicy condiment into his soup, sparing Grimmjow a sharp look. He took a bite of the mustard-laced soup. "I didn't realize you two knew each other so well."
Grimmjow grinned, and this time meant it, even as a crimson blush claimed Orihime's cheeks.
"We don't," she said, clearing her throat. "Just recently."
"Oh?" Ulquiorra sized up her robe and what he could see of her camisole top beneath. "Recently? So ... he's really living here?"
Orihime couldn't say no fast enough, but nor was it not true. Not entirely. "Just until ..." She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five a.m. "Tomorrow. Not later today, but tomorrow. Thursday."
Ulquiorra frowned slightly at her, leaning over the table, grimacing more as he got to a spot of mustard in the bite of noodles and broth. "But he has been?"
"Yes." Grimmjow quickly finished his soup and pushed the bowl away.
"Well, it was a matter of ... Kind of ..." Orihime began again, shifting to sit on her cushion better, her knee making contact with Ulquiorra's beneath the table. She hastily moved it away. "Oh ... sorry."
He looked to her quickly at the touch, smiling ever so faintly. "That's all right."
Grimmjow had observed the shift in expressions of both Orihime and Ulquiorra, the brief trading of furtive glances and her flush at what he could only imagine happening under the table.
"Keep your hands to yourself, bat," he said darkly to Ulquiorra.
"What are you talking about?" Ulquiorra enjoyed the seething look ebbing onto Grimmjow's face. "I'm not the one sitting around in my pajamas with her in the middle of the night."
Grimmjow set one forearm on the table, leaning over it closer to Ulquiorra, making Orihime sit straighter and away from the table despite the motion not being directed at her. "She's not your captive now. You have no say in anything she does. And you're the one in borrowed clothes and a towel."
Orihime didn't like the thickening atmosphere that developed as Ulquiorra wordlessly ate, the stifling feeling seemingly magnified by the humid room. A hundred questions skipped through her mind, but the late hour and the barely contained infuriation on Grimmjow's face made her hold off on asking.
"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked Ulquiorra, her hands nervously clasped before her on the table.
"Not yet." He finished his soup, leaving a layer of soppy mustard in the center of the bowl bottom.
"Oh ..." She bit her lip, watching the threatening look crossing Grimmjow's face. "Well, I suppose ... you have to stay somewhere."
"It's no concern of yours where he stays, Orihime," Grimmjow spat. "You fed him; you're done."
"Don't speak to her that way," Ulquiorra said, more than suggesting.
Orihime tried to work up a smile for Ulquiorra. "I'll go check if your clothes are dry."
She hopped to her feet and went to the dryer, retying her robe as she went.
Ulquiorra made a slightly uncomfortable face at the bowl before him. "Is this good? The food she made, is it good?"
Grimmjow nodded automatically. "Of course it's good. Not like that bland shit you get from the vendors on the streets."
Ulquiorra swallowed down a pop of heartburn that flamed up his throat. "Oh."
Orihime returned quickly, smiling, holding Ulquiorra's folded and still warm clothes to him. He stood up and made a small bow, catching his towel as it slipped at his hips, bringing a mumbled curse from Grimmjow who watched the handoff intently, eyes lingering on Orihime's movements. "They dried really fast because they're all cotton."
"Thank you, Orihime," Ulquiorra said. "That's very kind of you. I'll change."
He went to the bathroom, leaving her to face Grimmjow's scowl as he stood up from the table. Grimmjow looked to where her hand was clasped over her opposite wrist. She took a step back as he rounded the table.
His eyes rose from her arm to her face, the glare falling away. "I didn't mean that," he said lowly, voice devoid of the irritation she'd expected. He nodded to her hold on her wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt your arm."
Her hand dropped from her wrist. "Oh, it's okay." She nodded too many times. "It doesn't hurt."
"Don't lie to me."
She looked down at the light red mark at the side of her wrist, shaking her head again. "It's all right."
He glanced to the bathroom, and then to where her bedroom doorway opened across from it. He looked back to her. "You're going to ask him to stay, aren't you?"
"I can't very well send him away," she said, inching back as he stepped nearer.
"You had no problem telling me to get the hell out when I showed up," he reminded, taking another step.
She shook her head, eyes widening at the grave look on his face. "You surprised me."
He raised an eyebrow. "He didn't surprise you?"
"Well, yes, but ... Well, not as much as you did." She bit her lip, nodding. "He doesn't have any place else to go."
"Neither did I," he said, making an effort to keep his tone from raising.
"I didn't throw you out, Grimmjow," she said, trying to smile a little. "You're still here."
He snorted an unamused laugh. "How long are you going to give him? Five days? Does he have to make a list of words not to use?"
She frowned, eyes going to the bathroom door as it opened. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."
"How long?" he asked again, voice low as Ulquiorra stepped out of the bathroom.
She forced herself to respond. "I don't know. I ... I'm ..."
She left off speaking as Ulquiorra joined them, now in his white clothes from earlier, his green eyes sharp on Grimmjow's proximity to her. He held up a handful of crumpled and now-dried roll of bills.
Grimmjow grinned at Orihime, nothing in the smile to make her want to return it. "Oh, he has money. That should help."
She nodded, taking a deep breath, which drew both Espadas' attention to her camisole. "I was thinking, Ulquiorra," she said as his eyes rose to hers, "if you have no place else to go," she smiled a little as the line at his mouth relaxed into a barely detectable curve, "you could stay here. For a while. Unless you have other plans."
Grimmjow's jaw set tight.
An almost smile lent Ulquiorra's face. "That's very generous of you, Orihime. I have nowhere else to go."
She nodded, caught between wanting to smile fully and the growing glower ingrained on Grimmjow's face. "Good."
Grimmjow turned on her. "Good?"
She recoiled a step back, hand clutching her robe edges at her chest.
"Yes," Ulquiorra said, enjoying the other Espada's discomfort. "She said good.