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Kurosaki wasn’t at Urahara’s. He didn’t even need to go in, he sensed he wasn’t there. The boy had the reiatsu control of a drunk toddler, not even Urahara’s barriers were enough to keep the taste of it from seeping into the air, a cloud of sizzling danger that made his throat tighten in anticipation. He was baffled at the empty air. That fuckface never skipped Wednesday.
Casting out his senses across Karakura, he felt the blanket of familiar reitsu nestled safely in his human house. The fuck? He skipped out just to go home ?
Now he was feeling put out and pissed off.
A few well placed steps in sonido landed him outside the hybrid’s bedroom window. He’d been there before, months ago, when Kurosaki seemed to wanna drag his feet on their promised fight.
Kurosaki was sleeping .
What the fuck.
Kicking his boot into the window, he was disappointed when it didn’t shatter. The dull bang startled Kurosaki awake, flailing and falling onto his ass in a tangle of sheets. His head popped up from the other side of the bed, eyes and hair wild. “What the f-Grimmjow? You scared the shit out of me!”
“Tough.”
Flushed and flustered, he shook the sheets off his ankle and crawled back on the bed. Besides being startled, he didn’t look like he was nervous at all. The hybrid was getting used to him. Grimmjow wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Kurosaki rolled the window open, clicking on the track, and sat back on a folded leg. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s Wednesday,” Grimmjow answered. That was all that needed to be said.
Kurosaki yawned, brows scrunched unhappily. “I can’t fight you today.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“I’m sick.”
Grimmjow blinked. “What?”
Kurosaki gave him a patient, chiding look. “I’m still alive, asshole. I’m sick.”
Legs folding under him to sit on the bed, Grimmjow’s hand shot out for his forehead, palm slapping against his skin.
Kurosaki went cross-eyed to look up at his palm, scowling. “You think I’m lying?”
His skin was damp with sweat, and cold hands warmed quickly against his forehead. “Hot,” Grimmjow noted.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get a fever,” Kurosaki snapped. Grimmjow didn’t remove his hand, just sat there frowning at him, so he leaned back, swatting at his wrist. “Now go away, I’m tired.”
Not feeling inclined to leave, Grimmjow shoved him with a solid hand on his chest. Kurosaki’s back hit the bed with a wumph, and he sighed, lying there in defeat. “What the fuck, Grimmjow. Just go away.”
“You’re really this weak when you’re sick?” Grimmjow scowled down at him. “Disappointing.”
A deeper frown settled on Kurosaki’s face. “Sorry I’m mortal.”
The hybrid didn’t get up, sprawled out on his bed in a loose fitting shirt and shorts. Despite how hot he felt, he shivered, brown eyes flicking towards the window. “If you’re not leaving, then shut the window, I’m freezing.”
Settling back at the far end of the bed, Grimmjow shut the window with a hard and satisfying snap.
Eyes slipping closed, Kurosaki sighed again. “If you break my window, I swear to God when I feel better I’m going to break your arm.”
Grimmjow leaned forward, hand depressing the mattress and drawing Kurosaki’s side to touch his wrist. “That so? Can ya really be slinging threats when you’re this weak?”
“Why not?” Kurosaki said breezily, his eyes slipping open. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Soft brown eyes narrowed in challenge, the same frustrating confidence that brought Grimmjow to his doorstep every Wednesday. Jaw clenched, Grimmjow shifted so he was directly over him and smirked. “You’re all human and pathetic, I could kill you right now.” He lifted his other hand to Kurosaki’s chin, tilting his head back to expose more of that corded neck.
The hybrid did absolutely nothing to stop him, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his eyes. “You won’t.” He swallowed, throat bobbing, more-so from his own personal discomfort than any sort of fear.
Grimmjow’s voice was low, biting. “You look a lot like prey right now, it’s pretty stupid to drop your guard.”
“You won’t,” Kurosaki said again. He sat up, grimacing as if it took real effort. He propped himself up on his arms so they were sat nearly at eye level and said, “There’s no challenge. You won’t.”
“You really think you know me?” Grimmjow hissed. His hand was left hovering between them, and he dropped it to the bed on Kurosaki’s other side, caging him between his arms. Now they were nearly nose to nose. “You’d bet your life on it?”
That fuckface smiled, that infuriating, knowing smile. “Nothing to bet when I know I’m right.”
He felt the urge to punch that smile off his face, but Kurosaki was wearing his pathetic meatsuit, he’d break his nose or worse...and the thought of proving him wrong didn’t sound nearly as good as he thought it would. Kurosaki stared him down, challenging him. That pissed him off too. Here he was struggling to sit up and he was talking like he was in charge. Absolutely infuriating.
Then he yawned, shattering the mounting tension with such ease, it was as if he really had been in control. Kurosaki sniffed, a shudder running through his shoulders. “If you insist on hovering like that, can you at least move? I’m freezing and I wanna go to bed.”
“You’re burning up,” Grimmjow protested.
“Fevers are weird like that.” He blinked blearily at his twisted sheets near the foot of his bed, scowling at them like the thought of picking them up was too daunting.
It felt weird to see him so pathetic. His reiatsu was still there, packaged up tight in his human body, blazing like an inferno, just below the surface. So much power—power he’d felt throw him to the dirt, slice through his hierro like it was nothing...and yet he could barely sit up.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Kurosaki noticed. He spoke dryly, groaning as he reached for the sheets. “Sorry to disappoint you, Grimmjow. Try again next week.”
Kurosaki misjudged how much weight his leg could hold up, and he staggered, falling. Grimmjow shot forward, catching Kurosaki around the chest with his arm. His leg was flush to Kurosaki’s, his palm splayed over his chest, nose tickled by tousled ginger hair. Every point of contact burned, and Kurosaki looked at him, soft eyes wide in shock. Neither moved, suspended in a moment of confusion.
Why did he do that? He knew he had a stupid fucking look on his face, jaw dropped by his own impulsive lunge. Grimmjow snapped his mouth shut, leaning back, and tugged Kurosaki onto the bed where he had balance.
“Idiot…” He stood, gathering up the sheet, and threw it at Kurosaki. It hit him in the face, but Kurosaki wrenched it to his lap to look at him, not deterred in the slightest. He was watching him too closely, cheeks flushed bright red.
“What?” Grimmjow snapped.
Swaying back, Kurosaki licked dry lips and said, “Nothing.”
Yeah. Nothing.
Grimmjow watched Kurosaki try to fix his sheets, to very little avail. He gave up once it covered his bare feet and pulled it over his shoulders, curling into a ball with his back to him. He curled tighter and the sheet exposed his feet, toes curling in annoyance.
“God, Kurosaki, you really are pathetic.”
Kurosai’s insult came muffled. “Fuck you, I feel like garbage.”
Grimmjow grabbed the sheets, yanking them down and over Kurosaki’s feet. The hybrid shivered again, and Grimmjow frowned. “You’re really that cold?”
“Freezing.”
Wild, brilliant hair poked out from hunched shoulders, shuddering every few seconds.
Grimmjow sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress squeaking slightly, and he started pulling at his boots. His sword and belts were the next thing to go. Kurosaki peeked over his shoulder at the sound of buckles coming undone.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” Grimmjow growled.
“I dunno, I wouldn’t ask, if I knew!”
Shrugging out of his jacket, Grimmjow stood, dropping it on his pile of clothes. “When you get better, we fight.”
“Y-yeah?” Kurosaki was still straining to see him over his shoulder, brows twisted in confusion.
Grimmjow yanked the sheet off Kurosaki like a goddamned magic trick. Kurosaki cringed, curling into himself, “What the fuck?”
Flopping onto the bed behind him, Grimmjow shoved him solidly in the back to make room.
“Wait, Grimmj-”
“Shut the fuck up, you’re shaking like a leaf, its fucking pathetic.” He pulled the sheet over them both, manhandling Kurosaki so he was flush to his chest, arms wrapped around him. “Jesus christ you’re hot.”
Kurosaki shifted, confused, but getting comfortable. “Yeah, it’s called a fever.”
Grimmjow laid there in silence, then complained, “You’re so sweaty.”
“You see me sweaty all the time,” Kurosaki grumbled.
“Didn’t have to touch you.”
“I think this counts as a hug,” Kurosaki said, tentatively.
“It’s not a fucking hug,” Grimmjow growled. “You’re cold.”
The hybrid shifted, then wiggled back against him, another shiver shaking his frame. “Okay.”
He sounded way too happy about that. Grimmjow sucked in a breath, breathing in a distorted version of Kurosaki’s scent. He was sweaty, he smelled sick, now that he knew what it was he was smelling, but he also smelled sweetly spicy, a scent he’d come to know well.
He tilted his head, nose brushing the damp nape of his neck. Kurosaki tensed from head to toe. He’d like to tell himself it was because he knew he had a dangerous predator at his neck, but he knew he was kidding himself. He whispered what should have been a threat, but his voice sounded all wrong. “You don’t tell a single fucking soul about this.”
Kurosaki’s shoulders sagged in a sigh. “It’s more embarrassing for me than it is for you?”
Grimmjow’s reaction was without thought, his teeth grazing Kurosaki’s neck. “Let’s not test it.”
The hybrid’s breath caught with a muffled gasp, cringing against his chest. “Ah...okay.”
Too much went unsaid, but the hybrid’s shivering slowly eased, his fingertips grazing the back of his hand. Grimmjow pretended not to notice, but all of his focus was drawn to every ounce of contact, from head to toe. His skin buzzed and he couldn’t relax, all too aware of the body pressed to his chest, very much alive.
Eventually, Kurosaki fell asleep, his breaths slow and deep, the tension draining out of his muscles, and Grimmjow was left adrift in his thoughts, wondering when he’d changed.