[aim log/completed]
WHO: Grimmjow (stradapanthera) and Ulquiorra (sfigato_quarto)
WHAT: Ulquiorra invites Grimmjow over to clear some things up. But Grimmjow is bad at conversation. :|
WHERE: Ulquiorra's apartment.
WHEN: A few nights ago.
Grimmjow couldn't fucking believe what he was doing. That dumb fuck Ulquiorra had told him to come over and Grimmjow couldn't deny it had been one hell of a shock. He had no interest fighting the bastard when he was weak, and Grimmjow still needed to learn how to control his transformation better. But he wasn't going to trust the shithead for one second. The sword was with him, because without it, he couldn't transform. He'd also brought along two guns to use if he got into a tight situation. The fucker wouldn't be tricking him tonight if that was what he planned on doing.
When he got to the apartment, he reached behind his back to place a hand on the gun tucked into his pants and knocked on the door with his other. Now he knew where Ulquiorra lived. If he'd have known it'd be so damn easy to get the address, he'd have used this before. But fucking whatever. He'd brought Ulquiorra some food since the bastard couldn't get some for himself--Grimmjow hadn't gotten himself any. He wasn't going to sit there and eat with the fucker like they were friends. Grimmjow would rather have dinner with Kristoph again.
Ulquiorra heard the knock on the door from the small living area. He hadn’t moved very much in the past week or so. He just made the triangle between the couch, his even smaller bedroom, and the bathroom. Occasionally he would venture into the kitchen, like he was at this moment, to answer the door. His leg still protested as he walked, giving him a little bit of limp, though now he didn't need any help to move around. Ulquiorra went through the kitchen to the small entry space, and opened the door.
Ulquiorra wasn't stupid. He had enough hidden weapons in his small apartment that he was not overly worried. Plus he had his gun in the pair of old sweat pants he was wearing. Other than that he wore a loose sleeveless undershirt, the bandages around his shoulder still visible. The bandages over his eye and face were long gone, only scars remained in their wake. Ulquiorra just watched Grimmjow with his large green eyes, his head tilted up to look the taller man in the eye.
Grimmjow's fingers curled more tightly around his gun when he saw Ulquiorra there. This was the fucker that had nearly killed him a couple weeks ago, and Grimmjow, in turn, had nearly killed Ulquiorra. It was good to see the bastard was still suffering. It made Grimmjow feel a hell of a lot better about coming to see him; he got to see his work had lasted longer than a couple fucking days.
"You look like shit," Grimmjow remarked, grinning proudly. "Nice to see the pretty lady can look like she got hit by a fucking train."
Ulquiorra really was a tiny bastard. Grimmjow could throw him across a fucking field one-handed if he wanted. And Grimmjow was betting he'd get blown away by the wind before he even hit the ground on the other side.
"Thank you, as do you," Ulquiorra replied, dryly. He was already regretting letting this man come to his apartment. He didn't like Cirucci, but she was better company than Grimmjow. "Too bad the train did not hit you harder, though."
Ulquiorra stepped back, making room for Grimmjow to enter his apartment. "I should pat you down for weapons...but it is easier just to accept that we are both armed, correct?" His eyes scanned for the food. "I hope you brought something worth my time."
Grimmjow wasn't going to bother lying about carrying weapons with him. And he wouldn't bother hiding them. The gun he'd been holding onto came out from his pants and he aimed it at Ulquiorra's face. "Yeah, I'm fucking armed. And if you lay one fucking finger on me, you'll be eating that finger instead of what I brought you. Understood?"
He didn't bother waiting for a response before tossing the bag of food at Ulquiorra. Grimmjow had no room or patience for manners. Having manners in this city was a fucking joke. Having manners anywhere was. Made you a fucking pussy if you acted sweet and polite to get what you wanted. It was easier to smash someone's face into a brick wall until they gave in. A hell of a lot more fun, too.
As Grimmjow moved for his gun, Ulquiorra did as well, the end result being them both pointing guns tot he other's forehead. Ulquiorra liked these mutually destructive situations. It made him feel safe, strangely. "The same goes for you. Do not think that I will not cause you some amount of pain in my condition. I have no qualms about reopening my wounds."
Ulquiorra caught the bag with his skinny pale arms, watching Grimmjow all the while. He put his gun back into his own pants, side glancing Grimmjow as he moved into he kitchen and into the small living space. At least he knew that Grimmjow was not the type to insult his apartment like Cirucci. Ulquiorra's apartment was very sparse, the living room only having a couch, a coffee table, a small TV in one corner, and piles of books stacked against the walls. The rest of the small place was much the same. Nothing on the walls. All shades of grey and white. Nothing special or individual at all.
Grimmjow had to smirk as they ended up with guns pointed at each other. The dumb bastard thought he'd be able to hurt him badly enough when his own wounds were still there? Yeah right. Grimmjow kept his gun out even after Ulquiorra had put his away and then dropped himself onto the couch. Who the fuck knew what Ulquiorra had hidden around his empty apartment. Maybe there was a bomb ticking away beneath Grimmjow's ass right now.
He watched the other man with keen eyes, finger never leaving the trigger of his gun. There was some fucking reason Ulquiorra had told him to come over that wasn't so they could "talk." You didn't sit down for a fucking chat with the guy who had nearly killed you. Ulquiorra was such a weird bastard. At least Kristoph had cooked Grimmjow dinner for the trouble he'd taken to come over. What the fuck ever.
Grimmjow had no idea what Ulquiorra could do to him. Grimmjow always ranted about Ulquiorra underestimating him, but Grimmjow was doing the same thing now. It was annoying. And extremely foolish. Ulquiorra just eyed Grimmjow and his gun while they walked into the living room. Ulquiorra just looked down at Grimmjow with distain as the man sat down on the couch. Did he expect Ulquiorra to sit on the floor? Ulquiorra had been limping with the bag the entire time.
Ulquiorra sett he bag on the low coffee table and then just stared at Grimmjow with his cold hateful eyes. He really wanted to sit down, but Grimmjow was in his way. He just glared for a few beats. He couldn’t sit down on the floor even if he wanted to. He simply couldn't at the moment. Ulquiorra shuffled over to the far side of the medium couch and sat himself down with a bit of trouble and a lot of clinging to the couch to lower himself down slowly.
It made Grimmjow snicker to see Ulquiorra like this. The dumb bastard had been so sure he could kill Grimmjow, yet it was Ulquiorra who was still healing. Watching him slowly lower himself onto the couch filled Grimmjow with pure fucking glee. It was an image he'd be sure to never forget. What kind of idiot invited his enemy over when he was weak and crippled?
"So," Grimmjow asked with a wave of his gun, "what the fuck do you want? I don't have time to watch you crawl around your place like a beaten dog."
Ulquiorra could careless what Grimmjow thought of him, he simply wished that the other man would stop waving the gun around.
"You have better things to do? Someone as crass, rude, and ignorant as you actually has a busy schedule?" Ulquiorra mused, mocking surprised though his features remained emotionless. "And as I remember, though I may be wrong, it was you who wanted to talk to me." He leaned forward and peeked into the bag, looking for the food he was promised.
"You could've fucking told me over the phone," Grimmjow pointed out. He let the insult slide--he didn't give a shit what Ulquiorra thought about his schedule. "You're the asshole who decided to give me your home address and invite me over like we're best fucking friends. Dumbass."
And yeah, he did have better things to do. Grimmjow needed to do his laundry. As wild and rough as he was, he wasn't dirty. Just a little messy. When he finished his laundry he tossed it somewhere in his place. Hanging up clothes was for women; there wasn't anything wrong with a couple wrinkles in a shirt. Or a couple hundred. They were only wrinkles on cloth. Not the fucking end of the world that women made them out to be.
"But then I would not have gotten food," Ulquiorra replied, rather quietly, intently searching in the said food bag for whatever Grimmjow had gotten him. He extracted a rather good looking sub from the bag, turning it over in his hand to see if it was indeed safe to eat. But it looked good enough. It would do. "I'm not afraid of you, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra replied, after deeming the sandwich up to par.
"Hn. And here I thought you were capable of conversation. Apparently I was mistaken; your brain is not quite large enough to be polite."
Grimmjow folded his arms over his chest. "Tch. Like I've got anything to fucking say to you," he snapped back. He didn't like being there sitting next to a bastard he was itching to tear into. It made him feel uncomfortable and pissed the hell off. Ulquiorra was right there and because he was so fucking weak and useless, Grimmjow couldn't even bother to flick him.
But he wanted to take his gun and empty it into the fucker sitting next to him. Grimmjow would have poisoned the food, too, if it weren't so fucking cowardly. He tried not to fidget. It was getting real hard to sit still when he was imagining punching Ulquiorra's head off his shoulders. God fucking dammit. Grimmjow hated sitting still and not doing anything.
"You are the one who texted me, I figured you have something to say...whether or not it's worth my time and inviting you here is completely up to you." Ulquiorra started to unwrap the sandwich, completely calmly. If he couldn't cause Grimmjow physical pain at the moment, causing his discomfort like this was ideal, and rather entertaining. He bit into the sandwich, and calmly chewed, only looking over to stare unnervingly at Grimmjow again once he had swallowed.
"Quit fucking staring at me, you creepy bastard, or I'll shoot out your fucking eyes," Grimmjow warned. "You said you had shit to clear up with me, remember? I didn't know I'd beaten your ass so badly you turned stupid."
Maybe he'd punch Ulquiorra. Punching him in the face and knocking him out wasn't actually fighting, right? To fight, there had to be more than one person doing it, and if Ulquiorra was unconscious, then he couldn't fight. It made perfect sense to Grimmjow.
Ulquiorra looked away, taking another bite of the sandwich. He liked to annoy Grimmjow, but not when he had that gun still in his hand. Ulquiorra was more sensible than the other man, after all. "Yes, I did," he continued once he had swallowed. There was a limit to how long he could annoy Grimmjow with silence and staring until the other man got violent. "But I won't until you put that gun away." He looked up and over at Grimmjow again. It was just getting grating.
Did Ulquiorra think Grimmjow was an idiot? Well maybe he fucking did. But Grimmjow didn't give a shit since he was perfectly smart. There wasn't any way Ulquiorra could survive on his own for as long as he had. But right now he was slow and vulnerable and he'd be a damn fool to try to attack Grimmjow when he had his sword on him. Grudgingly, he tucked the gun back into his pants, but at a spot where he could easily grab it again if he needed to. "Happy, you stupid broad?"
"You will stop with those comments if you wish to get your information," Ulquiorra said, dead cold, almost sharp and venomous. "First you'll tell me what Cirucci told you thus far about me. Rumors have a tendency to turn, how should I say it? Nasty." He looked over at Grimmjow again, glad to see that at the very least he had put the gun away. It was a start.
Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. There was no fucking way he was letting some mutt order him around. If he wanted to call Ulquiorra names, he'd fucking do it. "She didn't say a fucking word to me," he replied just as coolly, his expression never faltering. "You think I can't find shit out about you on my own? I'm not as fucking stupid as you think."
As much as he hated the bitch, Grimmjow had promised not to rat her out. He wasn't going to go and break a promise that would lose him more information in the future. Unless he killed Cirucci. Then there'd be no more information to get.
"Really? I find that hard to believe," Ulquiorra replied, flatly. "But she admitting to telling you at my urging. I figured it was her, just from what you said. I am not that stupid either, Grimmjow. Of all of my colleagues, Cirucci wants me dead the most, I know. She is the most open about it, and giving someone like you information is her style. She would rather have someone else do her dirty work." A small smirk crept onto his features, a condescending look in his eyes. "You are smart enough to see that she is playing you, am I right?"
Ulquiorra knew that Grimmjow probably did. Cirucci was tricky, but not that tricky. If Grimmjow didn't know and killed her for double timing him? All the better for Ulquiorra. Cirucci annoyed him as well, but not to the extent that he would trying to inflict harm on her directly. She was simply an annoyance. Someone who loved to make nasty rumors about him that ultimately ended up being heard by people like Grimmjow. It only hurt his image as a professional. Perhaps setting Grimmjow straight at the very least would maybe do some good.
Oh, Grimmjow knew exactly what Cirucci was doing. He wasn't an idiot in the slightest. The little bitch had already pushed his last fucking button. Grimmjow had discovered where she was living and now he was watching her. When she least expected it, he was going to hurt her so fucking badly she'd be unable to open her fucking phone. If Ulquiorra had thought he knew what pain Grimmjow could inflict, then he had no clue. And Cirucci was going to be the one to find out first-hand.
"I'll take care of Cirucci," Grimmjow replied as he studied his fingers and imagined the claws there instead. Then he shot Ulquiorra a feral grin like the one he had when fighting. The one that said he really fucking loved blood and pain and death. "Trust me."
There wasn't anywhere in the world that Cirucci could hide. If she wanted to fuck around with Ulquiorra, fine. But fucking around with Grimmjow was a bad move. He didn't put up with shit from little bitches like her. Little bitches who thought they could get away from people like him.
Ulquiorra had to admit that the statement paired with Grimmjow's expression was unsettling. But what could he do? Warning Cirucci would do nothing, he supposed. She wouldn't take Ulquiorra's advice anyway. He figured he just had to sit back and watch. It could be beneficial to him.
“I see,” he finally said, raising an eyebrow. He went back to eating his sandwich. “However, you have yet to answer my question.”
"You ask a lot of fucking questions," Grimmjow replied, irritated that Ulquiorra really did ask so much. "I don't know which one you want answered. Try fucking asking me again and I'll see if I feel like being nice."
Grimmjow leaned back more comfortably into the couch like it was his own. Just to be an asshole and try to take up more room so that the cripple sitting next to him would have even less space. Maybe he'd fall off the couch and break his legs.
"I'll rephrase it then: What information did you gather about me thus far? You do not have to name your source. Happy?" Grimmjow wasn’t the only one who was annoyed. Carrying on even a simple conversation with Grimmjow was like trying to keep up a conversation with a rock or a wild, rabid animal.
Ulquiorra stayed in his place on the couch, however. Grimmjow was not going to win this game. It was Ulquiorra's couch, after all. If Grimmjow wanted more of it, he would have to sit closer to Ulquiorra.
The first response Grimmjow gave was a half-hearted shrug. If Ulquiorra wanted to know what Grimmjow knew, he'd have to fucking work for it. He wasn't about to tell the bastard the information he had for nothing. Regardless of whether or not it was about Ulquiorra--Grimmjow wasn't going to make it easy for him.
"I don't remember," he replied, not even bothering to hide the grin that said he was being an utter asshole on purpose.
Ulquiorra sighed. "Then I am afraid I will not give you any more, nor let you ask me questions. Your loss, I guess. You got me food for nothing, then." He shook his head, mocking disappointment. If Grimmjow wanted to be an asshole, then he would get nothing from Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra only responded to more respect than this. But then again, Ulquiorra had had to define respect.
"Not like I couldn't afford to help out a cripple," Grimmjow replied with a laugh. "I didn't waste a damn thing. Now I know where the fuck you live, you dumb asshole. It was worth every penny I spent on that food. Wanna try pissing me off some other way?"
"Hn. As I told you before, Grimmjow: I am not afraid of you." Ulquiorra couldn't care less that Grimmjow knew where he lived. He really didn't. "And I am not like you. I do not wish to 'piss you off'. I was trying to be courteous by offering to give you information. Too bad you wasted it. You had the chance to get information straight from the source." Ulquiorra finally finished his sandwich and leaned back against the couch, placing his pale hands on his stomach, staring off into space.
Was that so? Grimmjow sat up, shifted around slightly, and then dropped his legs over Ulquiorra's lap so that he was stretched out over the entire couch. That couldn't be comfortable for a cripple. But it was sure as hell comfortable for Grimmjow.
"Then I guess the comments that get your panties in a twist won't fucking stop coming, will they, muttface?" Grimmjow replied easily, feeling perfectly fine that he wasn't going to get any kind of information.
Ulquiorra's green eyes widened as Grimmjow lay his legs over Ulquiorra's thighs. A wave of pain struck him from the healing wound in his thigh. Ulquiorra was silent for a few beats, gathering his nerve before he sat up quickly, making sure to fling Grimmjow completely off the couch and onto the floor. If he hit some stray limbs on the coffee table on the way down, it was just an added plus.
Once this was completed, Ulquiorra lay across the couch himself, though he did not completely cover the entire space because of his height.
That made Grimmjow laugh. He didn't have any wounds so there wasn't anything to be hurt when he hit the ground. Ulquiorra was such a typical fucking woman without all the female pieces. How the hell did he even survive behaving like that? Grimmjow pushed himself up onto his elbows, still laughing his ass off.
"You sure are a pissy fucker," he laughed. "Don't want anyone touching you unless it's your master, eh? Guess that makes some fucking sense. Dogs are always loyal 'til they die."
Ulquiorra made a face, sitting up the best he could, and then stepping hard on Grimmjow's stomach to knock the wind out of him, and then returning to lying on the couch. Ulquiorra could not understand why Grimmjow's rude behavior was macho while when Ulquiorra played much the same game, it was not. He had simply stepped on his stomach to knock the air out of him so he would stop laughing like an idiot.
"No one touches me without my permission. No one. I certainly do not want you touching me. Who knows what diseases I could catch from trash like you."
Fuck. Ulquiorra had stepped on him? If he wanted to play, then Grimmjow could fucking play. He'd wrestle the fucker down and leave him tied up naked on his roof. The foot on his stomach hadn't hurt. More like shocked him and he rolled over to cough. That asshole. Grimmjow wasn't fucking finished.
"Diseases, huh?" he repeated as he sat up from his spot on the floor. "I think if I had any, you'd already be dying from them since I kissed you." Grimmjow winked lewdly at him. "Guess that means I'm rabies-free."
"Unfortunately," Ulquiorra said, rolling his eyes. He just had to remind him of that disgusting kiss, didn't he? "Perhaps my body is fighting it now, and perhaps it will lose and I will in time come down with some disease...I do hope it is not your lewdness or your ignorance. That truly would be a shame." He chose to not even look at Grimmjow as he winked, and stare at the ceiling instead.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes as well. "Yeah, how fucking terrible to have personality," he retorted. He began to get up slowly so that Ulquiorra wouldn't whip out his gun at any sudden movements. The asshole was too fucking jumpy. "I can't imagine what the fuck it would be like for your face to move. Or how you'd sound with more than one fucking tone. Pretty fucking scary to think of you as more than a puppet."
Grimmjow grabbed a pillow off the couch and flung it at Ulquiorra's face.
"What you have is not personality. It is what people call being rude and having no manners," Ulquiorra shot back. "I am no puppet. I simply do not see the point in such things. Being overly emotional leads to mistakes."
Ulquiorra caught the pillow and flung it back at Grimmjow, quickly.
Grimmjow smacked the pillow away. "Who the fuck needs manners? You think you've got them and you're a boring piece of shit. The only fucking way to get you to do anything is to touch you."
That really was the key, wasn't it? Get close to him and it made him freak the fuck out. Well, then . . . Grimmjow moved closer and bent down, placing one hand on either side of Ulquiorra on the couch, and leaned in.
"Does this bother you, Ulquiorra?"
"I never said I had manners. Just more than you, which is easy to do...since you have absolutely none." Ulquiorra just kept staring at the blank ceiling, his hands over his bellybutton again, thoughtfully. "Because I dislike being touched by you."
Ulquiorra blinked up at Grimmjow with his large green eyes. Curiosity had leaked into the cool green orbs. "Yes, but you will keep doing it, correct?"
"Yeah. I will." One of Grimmjow's hands darted up and caught Ulquiorra around the face. It wasn't anything that could hurt him. It was a firm enough hold to keep his face there so he couldn't turn away. Plus, it was touching him. And Ulquiorra had just said he didn't like it.
"Why is it you don't like being touched by me? If it's not fucking fear, it's something else. And you're such a fucking freak I can't guess your reason. So enlighten me, you piece of shit."
"I figured as much." Ulquiorra was not planning on looking away. Instead he kept on staring into Grimmjow's bottomless blue eyes. In fact, Ulquiorra took his own hand and placed it over Grimmjow's, locking the hand in a mildly discomforting hand lock.
"You are crude. You disgust me. When you touch me you wish me harm. Do I need a better reason?" Ulquiorra frowned. "I should not have even answered your question when you addressed me like that."
"And when you touch me, you wish me that same fucking harm," Grimmjow shot back. "So what the fuck does that have to do with anything? Is the little dog afraid of the big kitty? Because I thought you fucking said you weren't scared. Don't tell me you lied to make yourself look brave."
Slowly his hand tightened, though still not enough to cause pain. Not unless Ulquiorra was as sensitive as a fucking woman (which would be no surprise).
"Simply for survival. You should understand that." He let his grip on Grimmjow's hand go slack so it was just resting there. "You start harm, I am only protecting myself. I know you can do me harm, but I am not crippled by fear of you for what you have done to me. You are just a misguided loose-cannon."
Ulquiorra just stared at him as he tightened his grip. "What are you so afraid of that you are so set on killing me? What are you so afraid of that makes you want to hurt everyone so badly?"
What the fuck was Ulquiorra talking about? Grimmjow had no fears. He had no worries. He wasn't afraid of a single fucking thing. The only reason he hurt people was because he liked to. It made him feel good to watch some idiot shrivel up and die. It made him feel good to know he was stronger than the assholes out there. Assholes like Ulquiorra.
Grimmjow's hand dropped to Ulquiorra's throat and tightened considerably. "The only fucking reason I want to kill you is because you piss me off!" he snarled.
Ulquiorra's gaze did not waver, though he saw some glimmer of a thought process in Grimmjow's eyes. Promising. Thinking was certainly a good start. Ulquiorra smirked, slightly, only a twitch at the side of his lips. The smirked stayed as Grimmjow closed his hand around his throat. He still did not waver.
"And why is that?"
The dumb bastard was going to get himself strangled and he didn't even seem to care about it. That was fucking fine. Grimmjow could snap Ulquiorra's neck one-handed when he was finished talking to him.
"I'll fucking tell you why," Grimmjow growled and squeezed his hand more, growing angrier by the second. "You think you're so fucking special. You think you're better than me. You underestimated me and it almost fucking got you killed and you're still the same dumb bastard who thinks he's so fucking strong. You fucking parade around like a pet and whoever the fuck has your leash gives it one yank and you're at their lap. You don't even fucking try to be your own person. You're nothing but a fucking lapdog with a few tricks people haven't seen. I hate fuckers like you. You're fucking worthless. You waste the fucking space in this piece of shit city."
If Grimmjow showed signs of actually going through with snapping Ulquiorra's neck, the youth would react, but for now it was better to stay put.
"You are the one who thinks he is better, Grimmjow. In respects, I am much better than you. But part of that is understanding respect and manners. But you cannot ignore that brute strength you have. In that I am nothing. But you have to ask yourself how far you intend to go by simply knocking heads together." Ulquiorra reached up to grab Grimmjow by the throat, his fingers simply lingering in the air, not quite closing the distance, just letting Grimmjow feel the static of the closeness. Ulquiorra’s tone became darker, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Every time you say that it makes you seem like more of an idiot. If you really wanted to be respected, if you really wanted to not be looked down on by me or anyone else, you would use your brain and not say such stupid things. As long as you keep up your rudeness, your ignorance, you will be looked down on. Physical strength is something, but not everything." He finally closed his hand tightly around Grimmjow's throat, pulling him down so his lips touched Grimmjow's ear. "And I am no dog. I have no leash. I belong to no one. You have no idea who I am. The next time you speak of something you know nothing about, keep in mind that people will look down on you for being low, dirty, and uneducated, even if you are not. People will always look down on you if do show absolutely no merit whatsoever."
Grimmjow wanted to rip Ulquiorra's fucking head off. He hated being talked to like he wasn't worth anyone's time. That was bullshit. Grimmjow was worth more than this piece of shit was and the fact that Ulquiorra refused to acknowledge it was what really pissed him off. "I thought I fucking told you what I'd do to you if you ever underestimated me again," he replied back, not moving away or taking down his hand. "You're in no fucking condition to fight me. I'll break your fucking legs and keep you tied up somewhere so your master can't find you. And then we'll see how fucking well you do left alone in the dark for years with nothing but pain as your company. You have no fucking idea of how much I know, Ulquiorra. I might not come off as some tight-ass bastard the way you do, but that's because I've got more fucking experience than you. You don't even know what the fuck living is, you fucking coward."
Cirucci wouldn't have given Grimmjow wrong information--that much he knew. Either she just hadn't told him all of it, or Ulquiorra was refusing to admit to the dog that he was. But either way it didn't matter. Ulquiorra was a worthless bastard who was too young to know shit about anything.
"You don't know a fucking thing about me, either," he added. "You don't know how fucking educated I am. You don't fucking know where I'm from. Take your own advice and try learning a thing or two before making judgments. You make yourself look like a puppet being pulled by short fucking strings."
"I told you, I am not afraid of you, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra said through gritted teeth, his anger starting to slowly come into view in the fire in his eyes. "You are right. How can I possibly know anything about living? It is not like I do it every second of every day," Ulquiorra hissed, venomously. He wasn't having fun anymore.
"All I know is what you show me, Grimmjow. And what you show me is an ignorant, disgusting, crass, and stupid man. If you want me to respect you, you will have to show me qualities worth taking seriously."
"Tch. As if you'd fucking know worthwhile qualities when you see them," Grimmjow replied bitterly. Then he released Ulquiorra and grabbed the hand at his throat instead. "You're not fucking worth the trouble. Take your hand the fuck off of me if you want to keep it."
As much as he wanted to kill Ulquiorra, he couldn't now. Not when the dumb bastard was so weak and worthless. Grimmjow wanted to fight Ulquiorra when he was at the top of his game, not the bottom of it. It wasn't fun stepping on ants.
Ulquiorra finally looked away then, letting his hand go limp in Grimmjow's, not making a move to pull it away. "One quality not worth having: You look down on me now even though you just said that looking down on someone annoyed you. Are you not doing the same thing? Underestimating me? Looking down on me?"
Grimmjow shoved Ulquiorra's hand away from him. "I don't see anything in you worth praising," he replied with a cruel smile. "That's why. You're weak. There's nothing you can do that I haven't seen before somewhere else. You don't have a fucking interesting thing about you. No one cares about some fuck who doesn't even know how to smile."
Ulquiorra continued to look off into the back of the couch, not meeting Grimmjow's eyes anymore. He said nothing. His dead eyes saw nothing, his mouth shut tightly in a thin line of distaste.
"What? Cat got your fucking tongue?" Grimmjow threw at him. The saying couldn't have been more perfect. "Come on, you shit. Try to insult me again. See how far it gets you. I won't kill you, but I can still give you a fucking black eye."
"I do not want to insult you. I said what I wanted to say." Ulquiorra eyes remained unfocused on the back of the couch, still not looking at Grimmjow. "I do not want your kindness."
"Kindness?" Grimmjow laughed. "Who the fuck mentioned anything about kindness? I couldn't even tell you the fucking definition of what it means. If you want someone to kiss your ass and bake you cookies, you need a woman."
"I meant your not killing me when it seems to you that I very much deserve it if I am so pathetic," Ulquiorra said to the fabric. "And I have no desire for a woman to 'bake me cookies'."
Grimmjow shrugged. "I don't fight weaklings. I'm not going to beat your fucking ass when you can't do shit back. It's not kindness. It's me not wanting to waste time and be bored the fuck out of my mind."
"I see. Whatever it is. Mercy. Boredom." Ulquiorra sighed. "But sometimes I am just tired of all of it. Perhaps you should reconsider." The large green eyes closed in silence.
What the fuck? Was Ulquiorra on those drugs everyone was talking about? "You want to fucking die, then find someone else," Grimmjow replied, looking disgusted. "I don't kill people who want to die. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ulquiorra's mouth closed into the thin line again, his eyes remaining closed. There were a few moment of silence that hung in the air before Ulquiorra opened his eyes again. "What use am I if I cannot beat you? You said yourself I am useless. What purpose to I have now? I deserve to be put out like trash if I cannot do my job, and repay the family for what they have given me. If I cannot do those things, I am truly low and not worth a thing. I deserve to die at your hands."
Grimmjow looked at a loss for words. He hated shit like this. Hated it when people displayed how weak they were. Maybe Ulquiorra did deserve to die, but if he couldn't even put up a fight, then Grimmjow had no desire to kill him. What a fucking waste.
"Fuck you," he finally said. "If you're so fucking concerned about dying, kill your fucking self. I'm not setting a finger toward killing you unless it's to fight." Grimmjow didn't just look disgusted now--he was disgusted. "Never thought you wouldn't be worth me killing. Guess we all get surprised every now and then."
Ulquiorra turned over so he faced the back of the couch, his back turned to Grimmjow. "Leave. It was pointless to invite you here..." Ulquiorra said, shortly. He was starting to forget why he had wanted Grimmjow here in the first place. It had been bad enough to have to show Cirucci his weak side. Why had he forgotten how terrible it felt? Why had he left himself open to this man of all people? His judgment was clouding. This was bad. Very bad.
What had he wanted? He had wanted to show Grimmjow his life. That they were not that different. He wanted to show Grimmjow that he got no special treatment, that he did not live as a pampered pet or puppet or doll. He wasn't used for anything but his skills as a killer. And even that was somehow diminishing. Ulquiorra was completely meaningless in the scheme of things. But most of the people born on the earth were useless anyway. But Ulquiorra was an outsider here. This was not his home. He wanted to go home, but his home no longer existed. He hated this place. He hated Italy.
"Fucking glad to," Grimmjow replied with a sneer in his voice. Being around people like this pissed him off even more. If he'd have known Ulquiorra was such a fucking depressing asshole, he'd have killed him sooner. "Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself. It ain't fucking attractive from someone who's supposed to be able to kick my ass. Makes me fucking ashamed we share the same job."
Grimmjow shoved a hand into his pocket for his keys as he turned away. The fuck had been in that sandwich? Depressants? He couldn't believe Ulquiorra had turned from a cold assassin to a . . . well. To a woman. Now all Grimmjow saw was a weak little boy who wasn't worth his time.
"I did not take the job by choice," Ulquiorra said. He didn't know why he said it. But he did. He did not know why he did any of the things starting with inviting Grimmjow here. But he did it anyway. What could it hurt? There was nothing to hurt. He had stopped feeling all of it a long time ago. Even before he came to Italy.
"I..." Ulquiorra started, stopping himself before pushing forward again. "I do not care what you think of me, Grimmjow. I will find a way to beat you."
Hadn't taken the fucking job by choice? Now there was something interesting. Maybe he'd grill Cirucci for a little more information before he gutted her. But until then, he wasn't going to ask anyone else. Ulquiorra wouldn't give the information to him freely, and Cirucci would.
"Yeah?" Grimmjow looked back at him with a grin. The idiot looked so fucking pathetic. "I fucking hope you try. The Ulquiorra I fought is a hell of a lot more fun than the piece of shit lying here on the couch."
Ulquiorra listened in silence. So he did not take the bait. But that was alright. He wanted him gone more than he wanted him to stay, after all. Good. Get him away. Wash another mistake away. Clean another wound.
Ulquiorra just rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands and waiting for the sound of the door closing. He needed to get stronger.
WHAT: Ulquiorra invites Grimmjow over to clear some things up. But Grimmjow is bad at conversation. :|
WHERE: Ulquiorra's apartment.
WHEN: A few nights ago.
Grimmjow couldn't fucking believe what he was doing. That dumb fuck Ulquiorra had told him to come over and Grimmjow couldn't deny it had been one hell of a shock. He had no interest fighting the bastard when he was weak, and Grimmjow still needed to learn how to control his transformation better. But he wasn't going to trust the shithead for one second. The sword was with him, because without it, he couldn't transform. He'd also brought along two guns to use if he got into a tight situation. The fucker wouldn't be tricking him tonight if that was what he planned on doing.
When he got to the apartment, he reached behind his back to place a hand on the gun tucked into his pants and knocked on the door with his other. Now he knew where Ulquiorra lived. If he'd have known it'd be so damn easy to get the address, he'd have used this before. But fucking whatever. He'd brought Ulquiorra some food since the bastard couldn't get some for himself--Grimmjow hadn't gotten himself any. He wasn't going to sit there and eat with the fucker like they were friends. Grimmjow would rather have dinner with Kristoph again.
Ulquiorra heard the knock on the door from the small living area. He hadn’t moved very much in the past week or so. He just made the triangle between the couch, his even smaller bedroom, and the bathroom. Occasionally he would venture into the kitchen, like he was at this moment, to answer the door. His leg still protested as he walked, giving him a little bit of limp, though now he didn't need any help to move around. Ulquiorra went through the kitchen to the small entry space, and opened the door.
Ulquiorra wasn't stupid. He had enough hidden weapons in his small apartment that he was not overly worried. Plus he had his gun in the pair of old sweat pants he was wearing. Other than that he wore a loose sleeveless undershirt, the bandages around his shoulder still visible. The bandages over his eye and face were long gone, only scars remained in their wake. Ulquiorra just watched Grimmjow with his large green eyes, his head tilted up to look the taller man in the eye.
Grimmjow's fingers curled more tightly around his gun when he saw Ulquiorra there. This was the fucker that had nearly killed him a couple weeks ago, and Grimmjow, in turn, had nearly killed Ulquiorra. It was good to see the bastard was still suffering. It made Grimmjow feel a hell of a lot better about coming to see him; he got to see his work had lasted longer than a couple fucking days.
"You look like shit," Grimmjow remarked, grinning proudly. "Nice to see the pretty lady can look like she got hit by a fucking train."
Ulquiorra really was a tiny bastard. Grimmjow could throw him across a fucking field one-handed if he wanted. And Grimmjow was betting he'd get blown away by the wind before he even hit the ground on the other side.
"Thank you, as do you," Ulquiorra replied, dryly. He was already regretting letting this man come to his apartment. He didn't like Cirucci, but she was better company than Grimmjow. "Too bad the train did not hit you harder, though."
Ulquiorra stepped back, making room for Grimmjow to enter his apartment. "I should pat you down for weapons...but it is easier just to accept that we are both armed, correct?" His eyes scanned for the food. "I hope you brought something worth my time."
Grimmjow wasn't going to bother lying about carrying weapons with him. And he wouldn't bother hiding them. The gun he'd been holding onto came out from his pants and he aimed it at Ulquiorra's face. "Yeah, I'm fucking armed. And if you lay one fucking finger on me, you'll be eating that finger instead of what I brought you. Understood?"
He didn't bother waiting for a response before tossing the bag of food at Ulquiorra. Grimmjow had no room or patience for manners. Having manners in this city was a fucking joke. Having manners anywhere was. Made you a fucking pussy if you acted sweet and polite to get what you wanted. It was easier to smash someone's face into a brick wall until they gave in. A hell of a lot more fun, too.
As Grimmjow moved for his gun, Ulquiorra did as well, the end result being them both pointing guns tot he other's forehead. Ulquiorra liked these mutually destructive situations. It made him feel safe, strangely. "The same goes for you. Do not think that I will not cause you some amount of pain in my condition. I have no qualms about reopening my wounds."
Ulquiorra caught the bag with his skinny pale arms, watching Grimmjow all the while. He put his gun back into his own pants, side glancing Grimmjow as he moved into he kitchen and into the small living space. At least he knew that Grimmjow was not the type to insult his apartment like Cirucci. Ulquiorra's apartment was very sparse, the living room only having a couch, a coffee table, a small TV in one corner, and piles of books stacked against the walls. The rest of the small place was much the same. Nothing on the walls. All shades of grey and white. Nothing special or individual at all.
Grimmjow had to smirk as they ended up with guns pointed at each other. The dumb bastard thought he'd be able to hurt him badly enough when his own wounds were still there? Yeah right. Grimmjow kept his gun out even after Ulquiorra had put his away and then dropped himself onto the couch. Who the fuck knew what Ulquiorra had hidden around his empty apartment. Maybe there was a bomb ticking away beneath Grimmjow's ass right now.
He watched the other man with keen eyes, finger never leaving the trigger of his gun. There was some fucking reason Ulquiorra had told him to come over that wasn't so they could "talk." You didn't sit down for a fucking chat with the guy who had nearly killed you. Ulquiorra was such a weird bastard. At least Kristoph had cooked Grimmjow dinner for the trouble he'd taken to come over. What the fuck ever.
Grimmjow had no idea what Ulquiorra could do to him. Grimmjow always ranted about Ulquiorra underestimating him, but Grimmjow was doing the same thing now. It was annoying. And extremely foolish. Ulquiorra just eyed Grimmjow and his gun while they walked into the living room. Ulquiorra just looked down at Grimmjow with distain as the man sat down on the couch. Did he expect Ulquiorra to sit on the floor? Ulquiorra had been limping with the bag the entire time.
Ulquiorra sett he bag on the low coffee table and then just stared at Grimmjow with his cold hateful eyes. He really wanted to sit down, but Grimmjow was in his way. He just glared for a few beats. He couldn’t sit down on the floor even if he wanted to. He simply couldn't at the moment. Ulquiorra shuffled over to the far side of the medium couch and sat himself down with a bit of trouble and a lot of clinging to the couch to lower himself down slowly.
It made Grimmjow snicker to see Ulquiorra like this. The dumb bastard had been so sure he could kill Grimmjow, yet it was Ulquiorra who was still healing. Watching him slowly lower himself onto the couch filled Grimmjow with pure fucking glee. It was an image he'd be sure to never forget. What kind of idiot invited his enemy over when he was weak and crippled?
"So," Grimmjow asked with a wave of his gun, "what the fuck do you want? I don't have time to watch you crawl around your place like a beaten dog."
Ulquiorra could careless what Grimmjow thought of him, he simply wished that the other man would stop waving the gun around.
"You have better things to do? Someone as crass, rude, and ignorant as you actually has a busy schedule?" Ulquiorra mused, mocking surprised though his features remained emotionless. "And as I remember, though I may be wrong, it was you who wanted to talk to me." He leaned forward and peeked into the bag, looking for the food he was promised.
"You could've fucking told me over the phone," Grimmjow pointed out. He let the insult slide--he didn't give a shit what Ulquiorra thought about his schedule. "You're the asshole who decided to give me your home address and invite me over like we're best fucking friends. Dumbass."
And yeah, he did have better things to do. Grimmjow needed to do his laundry. As wild and rough as he was, he wasn't dirty. Just a little messy. When he finished his laundry he tossed it somewhere in his place. Hanging up clothes was for women; there wasn't anything wrong with a couple wrinkles in a shirt. Or a couple hundred. They were only wrinkles on cloth. Not the fucking end of the world that women made them out to be.
"But then I would not have gotten food," Ulquiorra replied, rather quietly, intently searching in the said food bag for whatever Grimmjow had gotten him. He extracted a rather good looking sub from the bag, turning it over in his hand to see if it was indeed safe to eat. But it looked good enough. It would do. "I'm not afraid of you, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra replied, after deeming the sandwich up to par.
"Hn. And here I thought you were capable of conversation. Apparently I was mistaken; your brain is not quite large enough to be polite."
Grimmjow folded his arms over his chest. "Tch. Like I've got anything to fucking say to you," he snapped back. He didn't like being there sitting next to a bastard he was itching to tear into. It made him feel uncomfortable and pissed the hell off. Ulquiorra was right there and because he was so fucking weak and useless, Grimmjow couldn't even bother to flick him.
But he wanted to take his gun and empty it into the fucker sitting next to him. Grimmjow would have poisoned the food, too, if it weren't so fucking cowardly. He tried not to fidget. It was getting real hard to sit still when he was imagining punching Ulquiorra's head off his shoulders. God fucking dammit. Grimmjow hated sitting still and not doing anything.
"You are the one who texted me, I figured you have something to say...whether or not it's worth my time and inviting you here is completely up to you." Ulquiorra started to unwrap the sandwich, completely calmly. If he couldn't cause Grimmjow physical pain at the moment, causing his discomfort like this was ideal, and rather entertaining. He bit into the sandwich, and calmly chewed, only looking over to stare unnervingly at Grimmjow again once he had swallowed.
"Quit fucking staring at me, you creepy bastard, or I'll shoot out your fucking eyes," Grimmjow warned. "You said you had shit to clear up with me, remember? I didn't know I'd beaten your ass so badly you turned stupid."
Maybe he'd punch Ulquiorra. Punching him in the face and knocking him out wasn't actually fighting, right? To fight, there had to be more than one person doing it, and if Ulquiorra was unconscious, then he couldn't fight. It made perfect sense to Grimmjow.
Ulquiorra looked away, taking another bite of the sandwich. He liked to annoy Grimmjow, but not when he had that gun still in his hand. Ulquiorra was more sensible than the other man, after all. "Yes, I did," he continued once he had swallowed. There was a limit to how long he could annoy Grimmjow with silence and staring until the other man got violent. "But I won't until you put that gun away." He looked up and over at Grimmjow again. It was just getting grating.
Did Ulquiorra think Grimmjow was an idiot? Well maybe he fucking did. But Grimmjow didn't give a shit since he was perfectly smart. There wasn't any way Ulquiorra could survive on his own for as long as he had. But right now he was slow and vulnerable and he'd be a damn fool to try to attack Grimmjow when he had his sword on him. Grudgingly, he tucked the gun back into his pants, but at a spot where he could easily grab it again if he needed to. "Happy, you stupid broad?"
"You will stop with those comments if you wish to get your information," Ulquiorra said, dead cold, almost sharp and venomous. "First you'll tell me what Cirucci told you thus far about me. Rumors have a tendency to turn, how should I say it? Nasty." He looked over at Grimmjow again, glad to see that at the very least he had put the gun away. It was a start.
Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. There was no fucking way he was letting some mutt order him around. If he wanted to call Ulquiorra names, he'd fucking do it. "She didn't say a fucking word to me," he replied just as coolly, his expression never faltering. "You think I can't find shit out about you on my own? I'm not as fucking stupid as you think."
As much as he hated the bitch, Grimmjow had promised not to rat her out. He wasn't going to go and break a promise that would lose him more information in the future. Unless he killed Cirucci. Then there'd be no more information to get.
"Really? I find that hard to believe," Ulquiorra replied, flatly. "But she admitting to telling you at my urging. I figured it was her, just from what you said. I am not that stupid either, Grimmjow. Of all of my colleagues, Cirucci wants me dead the most, I know. She is the most open about it, and giving someone like you information is her style. She would rather have someone else do her dirty work." A small smirk crept onto his features, a condescending look in his eyes. "You are smart enough to see that she is playing you, am I right?"
Ulquiorra knew that Grimmjow probably did. Cirucci was tricky, but not that tricky. If Grimmjow didn't know and killed her for double timing him? All the better for Ulquiorra. Cirucci annoyed him as well, but not to the extent that he would trying to inflict harm on her directly. She was simply an annoyance. Someone who loved to make nasty rumors about him that ultimately ended up being heard by people like Grimmjow. It only hurt his image as a professional. Perhaps setting Grimmjow straight at the very least would maybe do some good.
Oh, Grimmjow knew exactly what Cirucci was doing. He wasn't an idiot in the slightest. The little bitch had already pushed his last fucking button. Grimmjow had discovered where she was living and now he was watching her. When she least expected it, he was going to hurt her so fucking badly she'd be unable to open her fucking phone. If Ulquiorra had thought he knew what pain Grimmjow could inflict, then he had no clue. And Cirucci was going to be the one to find out first-hand.
"I'll take care of Cirucci," Grimmjow replied as he studied his fingers and imagined the claws there instead. Then he shot Ulquiorra a feral grin like the one he had when fighting. The one that said he really fucking loved blood and pain and death. "Trust me."
There wasn't anywhere in the world that Cirucci could hide. If she wanted to fuck around with Ulquiorra, fine. But fucking around with Grimmjow was a bad move. He didn't put up with shit from little bitches like her. Little bitches who thought they could get away from people like him.
Ulquiorra had to admit that the statement paired with Grimmjow's expression was unsettling. But what could he do? Warning Cirucci would do nothing, he supposed. She wouldn't take Ulquiorra's advice anyway. He figured he just had to sit back and watch. It could be beneficial to him.
“I see,” he finally said, raising an eyebrow. He went back to eating his sandwich. “However, you have yet to answer my question.”
"You ask a lot of fucking questions," Grimmjow replied, irritated that Ulquiorra really did ask so much. "I don't know which one you want answered. Try fucking asking me again and I'll see if I feel like being nice."
Grimmjow leaned back more comfortably into the couch like it was his own. Just to be an asshole and try to take up more room so that the cripple sitting next to him would have even less space. Maybe he'd fall off the couch and break his legs.
"I'll rephrase it then: What information did you gather about me thus far? You do not have to name your source. Happy?" Grimmjow wasn’t the only one who was annoyed. Carrying on even a simple conversation with Grimmjow was like trying to keep up a conversation with a rock or a wild, rabid animal.
Ulquiorra stayed in his place on the couch, however. Grimmjow was not going to win this game. It was Ulquiorra's couch, after all. If Grimmjow wanted more of it, he would have to sit closer to Ulquiorra.
The first response Grimmjow gave was a half-hearted shrug. If Ulquiorra wanted to know what Grimmjow knew, he'd have to fucking work for it. He wasn't about to tell the bastard the information he had for nothing. Regardless of whether or not it was about Ulquiorra--Grimmjow wasn't going to make it easy for him.
"I don't remember," he replied, not even bothering to hide the grin that said he was being an utter asshole on purpose.
Ulquiorra sighed. "Then I am afraid I will not give you any more, nor let you ask me questions. Your loss, I guess. You got me food for nothing, then." He shook his head, mocking disappointment. If Grimmjow wanted to be an asshole, then he would get nothing from Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra only responded to more respect than this. But then again, Ulquiorra had had to define respect.
"Not like I couldn't afford to help out a cripple," Grimmjow replied with a laugh. "I didn't waste a damn thing. Now I know where the fuck you live, you dumb asshole. It was worth every penny I spent on that food. Wanna try pissing me off some other way?"
"Hn. As I told you before, Grimmjow: I am not afraid of you." Ulquiorra couldn't care less that Grimmjow knew where he lived. He really didn't. "And I am not like you. I do not wish to 'piss you off'. I was trying to be courteous by offering to give you information. Too bad you wasted it. You had the chance to get information straight from the source." Ulquiorra finally finished his sandwich and leaned back against the couch, placing his pale hands on his stomach, staring off into space.
Was that so? Grimmjow sat up, shifted around slightly, and then dropped his legs over Ulquiorra's lap so that he was stretched out over the entire couch. That couldn't be comfortable for a cripple. But it was sure as hell comfortable for Grimmjow.
"Then I guess the comments that get your panties in a twist won't fucking stop coming, will they, muttface?" Grimmjow replied easily, feeling perfectly fine that he wasn't going to get any kind of information.
Ulquiorra's green eyes widened as Grimmjow lay his legs over Ulquiorra's thighs. A wave of pain struck him from the healing wound in his thigh. Ulquiorra was silent for a few beats, gathering his nerve before he sat up quickly, making sure to fling Grimmjow completely off the couch and onto the floor. If he hit some stray limbs on the coffee table on the way down, it was just an added plus.
Once this was completed, Ulquiorra lay across the couch himself, though he did not completely cover the entire space because of his height.
That made Grimmjow laugh. He didn't have any wounds so there wasn't anything to be hurt when he hit the ground. Ulquiorra was such a typical fucking woman without all the female pieces. How the hell did he even survive behaving like that? Grimmjow pushed himself up onto his elbows, still laughing his ass off.
"You sure are a pissy fucker," he laughed. "Don't want anyone touching you unless it's your master, eh? Guess that makes some fucking sense. Dogs are always loyal 'til they die."
Ulquiorra made a face, sitting up the best he could, and then stepping hard on Grimmjow's stomach to knock the wind out of him, and then returning to lying on the couch. Ulquiorra could not understand why Grimmjow's rude behavior was macho while when Ulquiorra played much the same game, it was not. He had simply stepped on his stomach to knock the air out of him so he would stop laughing like an idiot.
"No one touches me without my permission. No one. I certainly do not want you touching me. Who knows what diseases I could catch from trash like you."
Fuck. Ulquiorra had stepped on him? If he wanted to play, then Grimmjow could fucking play. He'd wrestle the fucker down and leave him tied up naked on his roof. The foot on his stomach hadn't hurt. More like shocked him and he rolled over to cough. That asshole. Grimmjow wasn't fucking finished.
"Diseases, huh?" he repeated as he sat up from his spot on the floor. "I think if I had any, you'd already be dying from them since I kissed you." Grimmjow winked lewdly at him. "Guess that means I'm rabies-free."
"Unfortunately," Ulquiorra said, rolling his eyes. He just had to remind him of that disgusting kiss, didn't he? "Perhaps my body is fighting it now, and perhaps it will lose and I will in time come down with some disease...I do hope it is not your lewdness or your ignorance. That truly would be a shame." He chose to not even look at Grimmjow as he winked, and stare at the ceiling instead.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes as well. "Yeah, how fucking terrible to have personality," he retorted. He began to get up slowly so that Ulquiorra wouldn't whip out his gun at any sudden movements. The asshole was too fucking jumpy. "I can't imagine what the fuck it would be like for your face to move. Or how you'd sound with more than one fucking tone. Pretty fucking scary to think of you as more than a puppet."
Grimmjow grabbed a pillow off the couch and flung it at Ulquiorra's face.
"What you have is not personality. It is what people call being rude and having no manners," Ulquiorra shot back. "I am no puppet. I simply do not see the point in such things. Being overly emotional leads to mistakes."
Ulquiorra caught the pillow and flung it back at Grimmjow, quickly.
Grimmjow smacked the pillow away. "Who the fuck needs manners? You think you've got them and you're a boring piece of shit. The only fucking way to get you to do anything is to touch you."
That really was the key, wasn't it? Get close to him and it made him freak the fuck out. Well, then . . . Grimmjow moved closer and bent down, placing one hand on either side of Ulquiorra on the couch, and leaned in.
"Does this bother you, Ulquiorra?"
"I never said I had manners. Just more than you, which is easy to do...since you have absolutely none." Ulquiorra just kept staring at the blank ceiling, his hands over his bellybutton again, thoughtfully. "Because I dislike being touched by you."
Ulquiorra blinked up at Grimmjow with his large green eyes. Curiosity had leaked into the cool green orbs. "Yes, but you will keep doing it, correct?"
"Yeah. I will." One of Grimmjow's hands darted up and caught Ulquiorra around the face. It wasn't anything that could hurt him. It was a firm enough hold to keep his face there so he couldn't turn away. Plus, it was touching him. And Ulquiorra had just said he didn't like it.
"Why is it you don't like being touched by me? If it's not fucking fear, it's something else. And you're such a fucking freak I can't guess your reason. So enlighten me, you piece of shit."
"I figured as much." Ulquiorra was not planning on looking away. Instead he kept on staring into Grimmjow's bottomless blue eyes. In fact, Ulquiorra took his own hand and placed it over Grimmjow's, locking the hand in a mildly discomforting hand lock.
"You are crude. You disgust me. When you touch me you wish me harm. Do I need a better reason?" Ulquiorra frowned. "I should not have even answered your question when you addressed me like that."
"And when you touch me, you wish me that same fucking harm," Grimmjow shot back. "So what the fuck does that have to do with anything? Is the little dog afraid of the big kitty? Because I thought you fucking said you weren't scared. Don't tell me you lied to make yourself look brave."
Slowly his hand tightened, though still not enough to cause pain. Not unless Ulquiorra was as sensitive as a fucking woman (which would be no surprise).
"Simply for survival. You should understand that." He let his grip on Grimmjow's hand go slack so it was just resting there. "You start harm, I am only protecting myself. I know you can do me harm, but I am not crippled by fear of you for what you have done to me. You are just a misguided loose-cannon."
Ulquiorra just stared at him as he tightened his grip. "What are you so afraid of that you are so set on killing me? What are you so afraid of that makes you want to hurt everyone so badly?"
What the fuck was Ulquiorra talking about? Grimmjow had no fears. He had no worries. He wasn't afraid of a single fucking thing. The only reason he hurt people was because he liked to. It made him feel good to watch some idiot shrivel up and die. It made him feel good to know he was stronger than the assholes out there. Assholes like Ulquiorra.
Grimmjow's hand dropped to Ulquiorra's throat and tightened considerably. "The only fucking reason I want to kill you is because you piss me off!" he snarled.
Ulquiorra's gaze did not waver, though he saw some glimmer of a thought process in Grimmjow's eyes. Promising. Thinking was certainly a good start. Ulquiorra smirked, slightly, only a twitch at the side of his lips. The smirked stayed as Grimmjow closed his hand around his throat. He still did not waver.
"And why is that?"
The dumb bastard was going to get himself strangled and he didn't even seem to care about it. That was fucking fine. Grimmjow could snap Ulquiorra's neck one-handed when he was finished talking to him.
"I'll fucking tell you why," Grimmjow growled and squeezed his hand more, growing angrier by the second. "You think you're so fucking special. You think you're better than me. You underestimated me and it almost fucking got you killed and you're still the same dumb bastard who thinks he's so fucking strong. You fucking parade around like a pet and whoever the fuck has your leash gives it one yank and you're at their lap. You don't even fucking try to be your own person. You're nothing but a fucking lapdog with a few tricks people haven't seen. I hate fuckers like you. You're fucking worthless. You waste the fucking space in this piece of shit city."
If Grimmjow showed signs of actually going through with snapping Ulquiorra's neck, the youth would react, but for now it was better to stay put.
"You are the one who thinks he is better, Grimmjow. In respects, I am much better than you. But part of that is understanding respect and manners. But you cannot ignore that brute strength you have. In that I am nothing. But you have to ask yourself how far you intend to go by simply knocking heads together." Ulquiorra reached up to grab Grimmjow by the throat, his fingers simply lingering in the air, not quite closing the distance, just letting Grimmjow feel the static of the closeness. Ulquiorra’s tone became darker, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Every time you say that it makes you seem like more of an idiot. If you really wanted to be respected, if you really wanted to not be looked down on by me or anyone else, you would use your brain and not say such stupid things. As long as you keep up your rudeness, your ignorance, you will be looked down on. Physical strength is something, but not everything." He finally closed his hand tightly around Grimmjow's throat, pulling him down so his lips touched Grimmjow's ear. "And I am no dog. I have no leash. I belong to no one. You have no idea who I am. The next time you speak of something you know nothing about, keep in mind that people will look down on you for being low, dirty, and uneducated, even if you are not. People will always look down on you if do show absolutely no merit whatsoever."
Grimmjow wanted to rip Ulquiorra's fucking head off. He hated being talked to like he wasn't worth anyone's time. That was bullshit. Grimmjow was worth more than this piece of shit was and the fact that Ulquiorra refused to acknowledge it was what really pissed him off. "I thought I fucking told you what I'd do to you if you ever underestimated me again," he replied back, not moving away or taking down his hand. "You're in no fucking condition to fight me. I'll break your fucking legs and keep you tied up somewhere so your master can't find you. And then we'll see how fucking well you do left alone in the dark for years with nothing but pain as your company. You have no fucking idea of how much I know, Ulquiorra. I might not come off as some tight-ass bastard the way you do, but that's because I've got more fucking experience than you. You don't even know what the fuck living is, you fucking coward."
Cirucci wouldn't have given Grimmjow wrong information--that much he knew. Either she just hadn't told him all of it, or Ulquiorra was refusing to admit to the dog that he was. But either way it didn't matter. Ulquiorra was a worthless bastard who was too young to know shit about anything.
"You don't know a fucking thing about me, either," he added. "You don't know how fucking educated I am. You don't fucking know where I'm from. Take your own advice and try learning a thing or two before making judgments. You make yourself look like a puppet being pulled by short fucking strings."
"I told you, I am not afraid of you, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra said through gritted teeth, his anger starting to slowly come into view in the fire in his eyes. "You are right. How can I possibly know anything about living? It is not like I do it every second of every day," Ulquiorra hissed, venomously. He wasn't having fun anymore.
"All I know is what you show me, Grimmjow. And what you show me is an ignorant, disgusting, crass, and stupid man. If you want me to respect you, you will have to show me qualities worth taking seriously."
"Tch. As if you'd fucking know worthwhile qualities when you see them," Grimmjow replied bitterly. Then he released Ulquiorra and grabbed the hand at his throat instead. "You're not fucking worth the trouble. Take your hand the fuck off of me if you want to keep it."
As much as he wanted to kill Ulquiorra, he couldn't now. Not when the dumb bastard was so weak and worthless. Grimmjow wanted to fight Ulquiorra when he was at the top of his game, not the bottom of it. It wasn't fun stepping on ants.
Ulquiorra finally looked away then, letting his hand go limp in Grimmjow's, not making a move to pull it away. "One quality not worth having: You look down on me now even though you just said that looking down on someone annoyed you. Are you not doing the same thing? Underestimating me? Looking down on me?"
Grimmjow shoved Ulquiorra's hand away from him. "I don't see anything in you worth praising," he replied with a cruel smile. "That's why. You're weak. There's nothing you can do that I haven't seen before somewhere else. You don't have a fucking interesting thing about you. No one cares about some fuck who doesn't even know how to smile."
Ulquiorra continued to look off into the back of the couch, not meeting Grimmjow's eyes anymore. He said nothing. His dead eyes saw nothing, his mouth shut tightly in a thin line of distaste.
"What? Cat got your fucking tongue?" Grimmjow threw at him. The saying couldn't have been more perfect. "Come on, you shit. Try to insult me again. See how far it gets you. I won't kill you, but I can still give you a fucking black eye."
"I do not want to insult you. I said what I wanted to say." Ulquiorra eyes remained unfocused on the back of the couch, still not looking at Grimmjow. "I do not want your kindness."
"Kindness?" Grimmjow laughed. "Who the fuck mentioned anything about kindness? I couldn't even tell you the fucking definition of what it means. If you want someone to kiss your ass and bake you cookies, you need a woman."
"I meant your not killing me when it seems to you that I very much deserve it if I am so pathetic," Ulquiorra said to the fabric. "And I have no desire for a woman to 'bake me cookies'."
Grimmjow shrugged. "I don't fight weaklings. I'm not going to beat your fucking ass when you can't do shit back. It's not kindness. It's me not wanting to waste time and be bored the fuck out of my mind."
"I see. Whatever it is. Mercy. Boredom." Ulquiorra sighed. "But sometimes I am just tired of all of it. Perhaps you should reconsider." The large green eyes closed in silence.
What the fuck? Was Ulquiorra on those drugs everyone was talking about? "You want to fucking die, then find someone else," Grimmjow replied, looking disgusted. "I don't kill people who want to die. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ulquiorra's mouth closed into the thin line again, his eyes remaining closed. There were a few moment of silence that hung in the air before Ulquiorra opened his eyes again. "What use am I if I cannot beat you? You said yourself I am useless. What purpose to I have now? I deserve to be put out like trash if I cannot do my job, and repay the family for what they have given me. If I cannot do those things, I am truly low and not worth a thing. I deserve to die at your hands."
Grimmjow looked at a loss for words. He hated shit like this. Hated it when people displayed how weak they were. Maybe Ulquiorra did deserve to die, but if he couldn't even put up a fight, then Grimmjow had no desire to kill him. What a fucking waste.
"Fuck you," he finally said. "If you're so fucking concerned about dying, kill your fucking self. I'm not setting a finger toward killing you unless it's to fight." Grimmjow didn't just look disgusted now--he was disgusted. "Never thought you wouldn't be worth me killing. Guess we all get surprised every now and then."
Ulquiorra turned over so he faced the back of the couch, his back turned to Grimmjow. "Leave. It was pointless to invite you here..." Ulquiorra said, shortly. He was starting to forget why he had wanted Grimmjow here in the first place. It had been bad enough to have to show Cirucci his weak side. Why had he forgotten how terrible it felt? Why had he left himself open to this man of all people? His judgment was clouding. This was bad. Very bad.
What had he wanted? He had wanted to show Grimmjow his life. That they were not that different. He wanted to show Grimmjow that he got no special treatment, that he did not live as a pampered pet or puppet or doll. He wasn't used for anything but his skills as a killer. And even that was somehow diminishing. Ulquiorra was completely meaningless in the scheme of things. But most of the people born on the earth were useless anyway. But Ulquiorra was an outsider here. This was not his home. He wanted to go home, but his home no longer existed. He hated this place. He hated Italy.
"Fucking glad to," Grimmjow replied with a sneer in his voice. Being around people like this pissed him off even more. If he'd have known Ulquiorra was such a fucking depressing asshole, he'd have killed him sooner. "Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself. It ain't fucking attractive from someone who's supposed to be able to kick my ass. Makes me fucking ashamed we share the same job."
Grimmjow shoved a hand into his pocket for his keys as he turned away. The fuck had been in that sandwich? Depressants? He couldn't believe Ulquiorra had turned from a cold assassin to a . . . well. To a woman. Now all Grimmjow saw was a weak little boy who wasn't worth his time.
"I did not take the job by choice," Ulquiorra said. He didn't know why he said it. But he did. He did not know why he did any of the things starting with inviting Grimmjow here. But he did it anyway. What could it hurt? There was nothing to hurt. He had stopped feeling all of it a long time ago. Even before he came to Italy.
"I..." Ulquiorra started, stopping himself before pushing forward again. "I do not care what you think of me, Grimmjow. I will find a way to beat you."
Hadn't taken the fucking job by choice? Now there was something interesting. Maybe he'd grill Cirucci for a little more information before he gutted her. But until then, he wasn't going to ask anyone else. Ulquiorra wouldn't give the information to him freely, and Cirucci would.
"Yeah?" Grimmjow looked back at him with a grin. The idiot looked so fucking pathetic. "I fucking hope you try. The Ulquiorra I fought is a hell of a lot more fun than the piece of shit lying here on the couch."
Ulquiorra listened in silence. So he did not take the bait. But that was alright. He wanted him gone more than he wanted him to stay, after all. Good. Get him away. Wash another mistake away. Clean another wound.
Ulquiorra just rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands and waiting for the sound of the door closing. He needed to get stronger.