A/N: Soooo I really doubt anybody is gonna read this, but I need to get it out of my head before I go insane so here it is!

Note: I've totally warped the BLEACH universe, like - Ichigo is older, he never met Rukia and therefore never became a shinigami, and Grimmjow & Ulquiorra aren't bad guys (like waaat?). So whenever there's a WTF moment please note that I have NOT follow the cannon and I'm simply using the same universe just different stuff - you'll get what I mean once you've read it.

Disclaimer: lol. If I owned Bleach would I be writing fanfiction? I don't think so.

Monogamy's For Chumps

Getting to know Grimmjow Jaggerjack was like taking a breath of fresh air. That is – if said fresh air were contaminated with particles of ecstasy and cocaine. Ichigo knew from the start that he'd be a troublesome guy – the kind of guy that's wild, unhinged and downright infuriatingly unpredictable.

Yet – somehow Ichigo finds himself getting warped into his world like a comically large elephant trapped in a sink hole, and it all started when he had randomly approached him to ask for directions. The street had been moderately populated for a Saturday night – he could have asked the couple passing by him, or the family of three exiting a car park across the road. But – as fate would have it – he had tapped the shoulder of a strangely dressed young man who had been within reach at the time.

Little had he suspected that he shouldn't be able to see him – let alone touch him. Grimmjow had swiveled around at lightening speed, his hand immediately setting on the hilt of his katana – something Ichigo hadn't even acknowledged until it became clear that the maniac is in fact carrying a dangerous weapon. He had immediately regretted selecting the threatening stranger with azure locks and sapphire irises, but like a helpless, gaping fish – he had already been hooked on Grimmjow's line. Even before he had learned the man's name.

Grimmjow had been intrigued with him for one reason or another – something that is beyond Ichigo's knowledge, but since he himself is found enticed by the dangerous man he could not bring himself care. Instead of getting directions to his missing destination, he had somehow been swept into going on a date with Grimmjow – and their relationship had only progressed from there.

With the azure-haired man everything is fast, furious and exhilarating. The spontaneity is like a fix of adrenaline – and the contrast of their worlds has Ichigo hanging on Grimmjow's every word.

He had always had the ability to see beyond reality. Gazing into the afterlife had become quite conventional to him as the years drew by – and he had told Grimmjow so one night as they were cruising down a freeway on his obsidian motorcycle. However, the concept of things like "shinigami" and "hollows" were never presented to him before he met Grimmjow – an "arrancar."

The entire thing was difficult to wrap his head around. If he had not possessed the ability to see the dead, then perhaps he may not have believed Grimmjow's stories at all. But the gaping circle where his abdomen should be told more truth than Grimmjow realized, and the mark itself is enough to make Ichigo believe anything the man told him.

However – by far the most unimaginable scrap of information withheld from him by Grimmjow came to light two weeks into their unorthodox relationship.

"What do you mean you're in a 'polyamorous' relationship with four other men?!" he screeches (in a very manly manner – might he add). They were on their way to Grimmjow's house at this very moment and the mental case decides to oh so conveniently drop a bombshell on him. The man in question has his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hakama, giving him a side-ways glance as though the speck of information meant virtually nothing at all.

"We all live together… just thought I should let you know before we get there. Didn't want ya freaking out about it." Ichigo gapes at him and the idle nature of his explanation, but as Grimmjow tilts his head away to stare ahead he knew the guy was purposely ignoring his evident incredulity.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hey – you're the one who insisted on coming to my place. I could've told you a lot later if I wanted to." His near-opaque sapphire eyes slide back to him, his brows drawing mildly to reflect his exasperation. Ichigo, personally, couldn't give a damn about annoying him by this point.

"That's not the point Grimmjow!" he snaps, dropping any form of affectionate honorific he may have used with him in the past. "I agreed on dating you under the stupid impression that you were – in fact – single and was interested in engaging in a completely monogamous relationship with me!"

"Look – " the azure-haired man abruptly halts, snatching Ichigo's arm and swinging him around the slam him against the stonewall of a nearby building. The orange-haired boy hisses, rubbing the back of his head. He shoots a glare at Grimmjow, who plants his hand next to the younger's head and stares back at him firmly. "This is my life – Ichigo. If you wanna be with me, then there are certain things you're gonna have to accept – this being one of them."

He pauses, waiting to see if Ichigo is impulsive enough to interject with another unhinged outburst, but is satisfied when the other continues to eye him expectantly. "Before you meet them – there's something important you should know about them… and well – me."

"And what's that?" the shorter male's voice has gotten low – almost to the point of growling, precariously teetering on the edge of a full-out bitch-fit.

"Dating me also when dating them as well." They stare at each other for the longest time – Ichigo all the while searching the man's eyes, attempting to claw at some ounce of humor that might be found there. However – when it's clear that Grimmjow is being absolutely, one hundred percent serious – Ichigo bursts into laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach as the chortle is practically ripped from his throat. It sounds bitterly discordant – even to his own ears, but he is so past the point of giving a fuck.

"You have got to be fucking me," he manages to force out through the breathless laughter, lowing his head back to finally meet Grimmjow's displeased glare. "If you think I'm going to go along with whatever fucked-up dysfunctional circus you have waiting back at your house – then you really are donkey-ass insane."

Smacking away the arm trapping him to the wall, he shifts to walk in the opposite direction of where they were initially heading, but halts at the hand that grasps him by the arm. Surprisingly, there is little force behind the gesture – almost as a pitiful last resort that oddly works its charms on Ichigo. He finds himself waiting – willing to hear Grimmjow out when a far stronger force within him is determined to head straight home.

"Just… give them a chance… I've told them all about you. They really wanna meet you…" the azure-haired man is using a tone Ichigo is unfamiliar with, but it's clear that the gentle sincerity had been conjured from an ocean of pride and ego, and he'd probably be a lucky man to ever hear Grimmjow use it twice in his lifetime. He swallows the voices screaming at him to resist – to be merciless, to reject him sadistically. He turns back towards the taller man, sighing as he does so.

"Lead the way."

And that's how he found himself outside a two-story house, it's architecture evidently inspired by classic Victorian-styled houses introduced to Japan after the Second World War. It was wedged between identical-looking houses, its windows arched and filtering a warm glow radiating from its exterior. Somehow the place resembled a familial establishment rather than a house full of shameless, polyamorous, horny (or so he presumes) men.

They enter the small gate that screeches on its hinged and take stone steps below to the front door, hidden away like some sort of fable amongst the foliage of neatly trimmed bushes and oddly elevated landscaping. There's a small porch light on, warm and classic as though drawn right out of a fairytale, and somehow Ichigo doubts this is where Grimmjow Jaggerjack lives. Everything seems so warm and welcoming – a far cry to the personality of the man standing beside him.

Grimmjow raises his hand, reaching to knock – but halts, turning back to him once more. "Oh – there's probably going to be visitors as well. Shinigami tend to come and go from here like it's a hotel."

"I'm sorry – shinigami?" Grimmjow blinks at him, as though surprised and he's surprised.

"You didn't feel it when you walked through the gate?"

"What?"

Grimmjow turns from the porch to point to the top of the stone steps, the black gate barely visible through the elevation and vegetation. "There's a force field around the entire establishment, your reiatsu should've sensed it when you entered its threshold."

"I felt nothing," he deadpans, understanding only half what the man had informed him.

"Heh," the taller snickers, remnants of his characteristic grin flickering over his sharp features. "You mustn't be all that good at sensing reiatsu then."

"Am I supposed to find that offensive?" Ichigo quirks an eyebrow at him, but then blinks, realizing that they had drifted immensely off topic. "Wait – that doesn't explain why shinigami are in your house!"

"Three of my four lovers are shinigami," now it's Grimmjow's turn to deadpan, and again they both fall into a staring competition neither of them are willing to lose.

"And the other one…?" he prompts.

"Is an arrancar like me."

"Aa."

"Yep – we call this place 'The Burrow.' It's about the safest place for a shinigami in the human realm," he places his hand on the black door fondly, his sapphire eyes distant as though he could physically see through it. "It was established by the head of the household a long time ago."

"Why shinigami? Why not arrancar too?" Grimmjow's grin wilts and he almost looks pained to answer such a question.

"Shinigami and arrancar are traditionally enemies." The shock spreads through Ichigo's body like webs of electricity, the regret thrumming close behind. However, before he could open his mouth to apologize for ripping up an old would Grimmjow quite clearly wants to remain a scar, the taller initiates three hard knocks on the door, the force causing the wood to tremble in protest.

Voices immediately pepper through – a muffled call from somewhere in the house, and a response from another as eager pairs of feet sprint towards the door. There's a painful thud from the other side of the door, followed by an audible groan. Grimmjow rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in what Ichigo could only interpret as embarrassment. And somehow – this makes him smile, despite the unfavorable situation he has found himself in.

The door is finally yanked open and a veil of red is the first thing Ichigo is greeted with – followed closely by the top of a finely polished head.

"Ikkaku! I told you I'd fucking get the door!" the redhead hisses through his teeth as he snarls comically at the other, a hand shoved against his face.

"And then I said that I'd get it!" Baldly responds just as venomously.

"It's my house idiot!"

"Exactly – so I should be doin' shit around the house 'cuz I'm the guest!"

"In what universe does the guest get up to answer the door?"

"Oi – " both men snap their attention towards Grimmjow, who once again has his hands stuffed into his pockets, eying them dryly. It's then that the redhead's eyes lazily travel to Ichigo, who is currently appraising the both of them with a critical gaze.

Suddenly – the redhead breaks out into a suggestive grin, leaning casually against the doorframe as he rakes his gaze up the other's frame. "Well, well, Grimm wasn't kidding when he said you were sexy."

It feels as though his face is lit on fire as his eyes immediately jump to Grimmjow, his lips thinning as he resisted the urge to stare at his feet in sheer embarrassment. He expects the azure-haired male to politely deny it, but instead the taller shrugs, grinning wolfishly at him.

"It's true," is all he helpfully provides, goading Ichigo's escalating discomfort.

"I'm Abarai Renji," the redhead tells him as he crosses his arms over his chest, his lecherous grin never faltering.

"And I'm Madarame Ikkaku!" the other says proudly, pointing his thumb to himself with a grin of his own.

"No one's asking, Baldy."

"Shut up Tats! Nobody asked you either!"

"Enough of your bickering," Grimmjow growls without any sort of malice, boldly snatching Ichigo's hand before wrenching himself past the two misfits blocking the entrance. Both of them protest due to the limited space the door provided, but Ichigo manages to make it out in one piece and stumble through a narrow hallway leading into a spacious lounge room – one far too big to logically fit in the little cottage portrayed on the outside.

The azure-haired male catches his incredulity and grins. "Kidō."

"Aa." Of course.

"Yep – this place is pretty cool eh?" Renji's comes up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.

Ichigo takes this as an invitation to appraise his new surroundings, finding a set of pristine white couches off to the left, situated in front of a television set and coffee table. On the space to the right there's a pool table with a light cascading down from the high ceiling to hover a few feet from the inner green surface. Straight ahead there's a set of three steps leading into another hallway – light glowing from an open doorway in the distance. By the fragrant smell layering the atmosphere he's going to take a wild guess and determine it is the kitchen.

"Why is it so clean? I thought you said there's no women here?" he turns back to Grimmjow questioningly, but it's Renji who speaks up, sidestepping to venture further into the room with Ikkaku tailing him. He shoots a knowing grin over his shoulder at Ichigo, his hands in the pockets of his shihakushō. Ichigo tries not to dwell on how out of place his traditional, black attire contrasts with the domestic setting.

"Tōshirō-kun is a neat freak," the redhead explains, but Ichigo only looks at him with even more confusion. Sensing his perplexity he inclines his head towards the hallway up ahead, raising his hand to cup the side of his mouth.

"Oi Shiro-chan!" Abarai's booming voice echoes throughout the open room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling and reverberating down the hallway in a strange rippling effect.

"What the hell do you want?" an agitated voice responds not so far away. It sounds as though the person is in a place with tiles – either a bathroom or kitchen. He eyes the light from the open doorway in the near distance and suspects it is the latter.

"Get your butt out here for a second!" Formalities and politeness just don't appear to be apart of the household dynamics – and somehow Ichigo finds this refreshing. It almost reminds him of his father and sisters back at home – almost.

A figure steps into the hallway and marches into the lounge room, stopping at the top of the three steps with his mitten-clad hands on his hips. Ichigo stares at him in shock, eyes going wider than saucers.

"What is he – like – your baby brother or something?" it flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and once again all eyes are on him – the boy ahead of them as well. The boy – child – growls, and the animosity radiating from him would've been intimidating for Ichigo, had the boy not been a little over four feet high. He isn't wearing a shihakushō like Renji and Ikkaku, but a long sleeved shirt and baggy jeans that are held together around his tiny waist by a belt, shrouded by the cooking cloak of an apron. A very girly apron.

"Who the hell are you?" the boy with snowy white spikes scoffs insolently, and Ichigo has the striking urge to slap the brat upside the head for being so disrespectful. He has to hand it to him though – the boy holds himself with a lot of dignity for someone in such an obscenely ridiculous apron. The pink, cartoon kittens are winking at him from across the room. He wants to burn it.

He's ready to open his mouth to give the pest a piece of his mind when a shadow from behind the brat catches his eye. His mouth immediately clamps shut as the figure bleeds into sight, a towering figure and Cheshire countenance piercing him from across the room. The silver-haired newcomer places a bony hand on the shoulder of 'Shiro-chan,' and the boy immediately tenses before looking up over his shoulder. Before Ichigo's eyes he watches the boy melt into submission under the other's palm, any traces of sassy attitude evaporating from the younger's disposition. It oddly reminds him of magic.

"Now sweet 'art, where's ya manners? You'll upset Grimm-kun if ya rude 'ta his friend," the dialectic lilt is heavy in his speech, complimenting his mischievous charm.

"But Gin – "

"Hush lil' one, go back 'ta tha kitchen before ya say somethin' you'll regret." The comment could have been interpreted as rude had it not been spoken so tenderly. The towering figure pats the boy's head affectionately and the younger relents seamlessly, throwing Ichigo one last, mild glare before turning and disappearing down the hallway.

"Dun' mind lil' Tōshirō. He's jus' a lil' surprised ya came 'ta visit so soon," the silver-haired male gracefully takes the few steps down into the lounge room, his arms folding into the large sleeves of his ivory robes as he regards him curiously.

"I apologize," Ichigo responds rigidly, bowing to the older male. "I insisted on coming over."

"No apologies needed. I'm Ichimaru Gin by tha way, head of tha household." He had already guessed this simply by the way the man carries himself. The ambience surrounding him is one of quiet authority. It isn't exactly assertive like Grimmjow – but more calm and lethal, like an injection.

"Nice to meet you – Ichimaru-san – I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he remains bowed, eyes to the floor.

"Call meh Gin, Kurosaki-kun. I haven't 'bin called that since mah cap'n days."

"Right – sorry."

The man chuckles in response, shaking his head amusedly. "Whatcha 'bin tellin' this kid 'bout us, Grimm-kun? He's nervous as all hell."

"I assure you it was only when you entered that he became nervous, Gin." Grimm answers with a pinch of humor in his tone, flashing a boisterous grin in auburn-haired male's direction. Ichigo beats down the blush fighting to paint his face with embarrassment and wills his gaze away from the devilishly handsome fiend who had wormed his way through his walls of composure all too soon into their relationship. He is tempted to argue that he is most certainly not nervous, but fears his own voice might betray him and consequentially contradict his point.

"Pah-haps a lil' tour of tha house is in order," Gin suggests after a pleasant, idle chat between the other occupants in the room – with Ichigo inching off to the side like some sort of socially impaired turtle, stiffly answering every casual inquiry fired at him by the older male. Meeting Gin is like the dating-equivalent of meeting a girl's parents for the first time – even though the scenario is tweaked slightly, he is aware the importance of this man's approval very well may determine whether he can continue to date Grimmjow. Should he stand up straighter? Is he being polite enough? Maybe jeans were a bad choice to wear on his date tonight?

"Oi Ichigo? You okay?" he feels the warmth of long fingers intertwine with his own and he instantly snaps out of his reverie, blinking towards the source of the gruff, masculine voice that ghosts the shell of his ear. The musky, natural fragrance is practically wafting off of the azure-haired male, eliciting visual delirium from the shorter male. He has to shake his head from side to side in order to think clearly.

"Sorry – what were you saying?" he scratches the back his head sheepishly, fighting the urge to remove his hand from Grimmjow's grasp under the attentive gazes of the other occupants.

"I wanna show you around," the taller male insists, his tone alluding to a repetition of words that had initially slipped by Ichigo's attention. Blinking once again, he realizes that Gin is longer standing at the foot of the steps – he is nowhere to be seen, like a shadow that has once again integrated with the darkness of the hallway.

"R-Right!" he responds with conjured enthusiasm. Renji cocks an eyebrow at him that disappears into his headband, but Ichigo dares not to waver beneath his egoistic judgment.

"You're a weird one," the redhead tells him bluntly. Ichigo bristles.

"Speak for yourself! I'm not the one who tattoos myself to stand out!"

"They're tribal tattoos! I don't wear them as a fashion statement!"

"Ya could've fooled me!" It doesn't take very long before they're right up in each other's faces, practically nose to nose with flames searing in their intense gazes. Ichigo somehow feels on a similar level with Renji – with rivaling heights he could still claw his way towards superiority without having to fret over physical advantages. It couldn't be said the same in regards to Grimmjow – who packs a boastful number of centimeters over his shoulders, but Ichigo cannot bring himself to envy the guy he has been dating for the past two weeks.

"Oi, oi – enough you two. Renji – stop stealing the attention from my date," Grimmjow half groans, half growls as he tugs Ichigo by the hand. The shorter stumbles slightly to fall into step with the azure-haired male as he marches straight towards the hallway Tōshirō and Gin had last been seen.

"Hey! He'll be dating me pretty soon too!" he can hear Renji call after them, not intending to really follow.

"Don't remind me!" Grimmjow throws back over his shoulder as he scales the tree steps leading into the hallway, allowing the mild darkness to swallow them. They slow down a bit once they have distanced themselves from Renji and Ikkaku, Grimmjow eventually letting go of Ichigo's hand to stuff his hands agitatedly back into his pockets. He doesn't take the withdrawal to heart – he never took Grimmjow to be the openly affectionate type, and for that he is glad.

They soon reach the square of light reflecting through the open doorway he had seen up ahead, the aroma of food far stronger than it had been back in the lounge room. Grimmjow leads him towards the light until they're basking in it; the view of inside finally revealed to Ichigo as the very room he had suspected all along – the kitchen.

Peering inside he found that the wooden floorboards of the hallway do not transcend any further, tiles reaching to all four corners and pale, homely yellow walls filling the kitchen in a stereotypically domestic setting. There is a shoji screen stretching across the wall to the far right, the door ajar to reveal a separate room – most likely where the table and cushions are located.

It takes Ichigo an extended moment to realize that someone is staring at him, and he blinks, averting towards the figures that have been quite evidently standing in front of the kitchen benches the entire time, both familiar faces. Tōshirō is standing on a stool to properly prepare the food, his mittens have been disposed of somewhere and he has a plastic, white shamoji in one hand, an empty, ceramic rice bowel in the other. Gin is standing next to him; his long, spidery fingers curled around a steaming teapot handle, but has not made any movement, mimicking his companion's interest in Ichigo.

"This is the kitchen, obviously," Grimmjow gestures with a flippant wave of his hand, looking especially uninterested.

"Food isn't ready," the short, white-haired brat quips, turning on his stool to face them, folding his arms over his chest. Ichigo still thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous with that apron on. How can he honestly expect anyone to take him seriously?

"Quit yappin' you little bitch, I'm just showing Ichigo around," Grimmjow drawls, leaning languidly against the doorframe with an air of defiant attitude.

"Teme!" Tōshirō grips the handle of his shamoji, his knees bent ready to lunge at the smirking, azure-haired man. However, Gin steps in with a listless sigh, his lanky, slender frame almost folding in half to level his gaze with the shorter boy, poking him square on the forehead.

"Ya know he does it on purpose, lil' one. Why ya always gotta take tha bait when he offers it?" Gin's voice is smooth and tenderly chiding. It's quite obvious that the head of the household possesses quite the soft spot for the little, white-haired firecracker. Ichigo gets the feeling that their relationship has a certain history that is uncommon to stumble upon, making their interaction all the more intriguing to bare witness to.

"Ah he just likes my attention when I offer it, don't cha Shiro-chan?" the response is immediate, and Ichigo cannot afford to blink before Tōshirō flashes in front of Grimmjow ready to deliver a punch. He almost stumbles back in surprise at the astounding speed, but his azure-haired companion is a lot less impressed, catching the fist with little hassle. With superior speed he has the boy in a headlock, the delinquent kicking and yelling viciously like a stray cat.

Grimmjow has a smug grin, pressing the smaller body against his chest to minimize the struggle.

"Ichigo!" he sounds almost childishly excited as he slides his sapphire eyes over to his orange-haired date standing off to the side, curiously assessing the interaction.

"Yeah?" he straightens, surprised that he has been invited to be apart of this strange play fighting between – is 'lovers' the right term?

"Shiro-chan is ticklish," the white-haired male suddenly stiffens in Grimmjow's grasp; eliciting his maniacal grin to spread even wider, "tickle 'em."

"Who? Me?" he points stupidly to himself, hardly believing his own ears.

"Yeah you ya dumbass!" Grimmjow chuckles lightly, shuffling closer before roughly reeling a wriggling Toshiro in his arms to face Ichigo.

"Don't you dare!" the white-haired male hisses, but his voice is void of its confidence and attitude. If anything, his evident vulnerability goads Ichigo to do what Grimmjow tells him, and before he can help himself a sly grin curls onto his lips.

"O – oi! What's with that look on your face? Ichigo! Oi!" fear glazes the boy's brilliant, turquoise eyes and Ichigo relishes in the power that has so suddenly played into the palms of his hands. He inches closer with his fingers bared like threatening claws, his brown eyes gleaming with devious intent.

Grimmjow chortles rambunctiously as Toshiro arches his back in an attempt to throw him off, but it becomes swiftly clear that the boy is all talk and no bite in the strength department – something Ichigo had presumed from the beginning. With a grin from ear to ear the orange-haired male pounces, thrumming his fingers ruthlessly against the boy's ribcage. The smaller chokes out boyish laughs that match flawlessly with his age – an interesting juxtaposition to his generally serious demeanor. He finds himself having way too much fun tormenting the brat with an attitude problem, and from the looks of things – so does Grimmjow.

They're all laughing – with Toshiro's laughs seeming somewhat strained – and Ichigo is hit with this riveting sensation that he somehow belongs, like he's stepping into the threshold of a second home. He scraps the notion when it sneaks its way into his conscious thought because of how silly it sounds. He has only known Grimmjow for two weeks – his lovers even less than twenty minutes – there is no point in getting ahead of himself.

"A'ight tha's enough," a calmly amused voice cuts through the laughter, a pair of hands suddenly invading Ichigo's vision as they pluck Toshiro gingerly from Grimmjow's iron grip. The laughter dies down to quiet sniggers and chuckles as both Ichigo and Grimmjow watch Toshiro cling to Gin like a lifeline, shooting the both of them a distasteful glare.

"He looks like a little baby," Ichigo teasingly pokes the boy's cheek.

"Ha! That's because he is one!" Grimmjow exhales sharply as though he were barely containing another round of laughter, much to Toshiro's immense displeasure.

"You bastards aren't getting any dinner," the boy snaps as he lowers himself to the ground with the help of Gin's curtain robs before calmly padding back towards his station in the kitchen, clinging to the last hairs of dignity he still has in his possession.

"Aw Shiro-chan don't be like that!"

"Shut up and get out of my kitchen!"

There aren't any more rooms on the bottom floor aside from a bathroom tucked away in the corner beside the kitchen, directing the hallway into an L-shape that urges towards a staircase at the very end. After toying with Toshiro for a little bit longer Grimmjow had proceeded to open the shoji screen in the kitchen to reveal that it is, in fact, where they ate their meals. It had been an average, Asian-styled eating area with a low wooden table in the center, green carpeting and cushions to accommodate eight people at the least.

They weren't allowed to linger for long before Toshiro started to complain, saying that their "fat asses" were taking up too much room. They returned to the dark hallway – which wasn't so dark once Grimmjow finally had the practicality to turn the light on and continue his tour.

The top of the stairs leads onto an open landing with astounding space – much like the living room downstairs. There are more couches and a large rug that almost stretched from one side of the room to the other. Instead of a television, there were towers of monstrous bookcases aligning one wall – only breaking to create a small gap for an inconveniently placed door. There were other doors too – three on one wall, two more adjacent and one more opposite – seven in total. That's a hell of a lot of doors.

"Why are there so many?" Ichigo questions aloud – even though he hadn't intended to, and Grimmjow shrugs in response.

"We could've had more bedrooms on the first floor I guess, but Toshiro gets night terrors. We figured the more people sleeping close by the better."

Ichigo smirks at that. "That's a little too cute for someone like you, Grimmjow."

"Shut up it wasn't my decision."

"Sure it wasn't." Grimmjow mutters something unintelligible under his breath before venturing further into the room – probably going towards one of the doors – when the lone door wedged between bookcases suddenly opens.

A man steps out clad in flowing, white robes that dance gracefully around his lithe form, and a most peculiar face tilts to regard them, a book tucked at the hip. A white – nearly grey face appears deathly pale under the glow of the overhead light, the shadows emphasizing the tear tracks of green that seep down his cheekbones to his jaw, complimented by a set of emerald green orbs. His black upper lip, black brows and black hair contrast with his pale face and bone, armor-like helmet clinging to half his skull like an exoskeleton.

"Ulquiorra," Grimmjow regards casually, "I was wondering when you'd come out of that hole of yours to say hello."

"You misunderstand. I did not leave my domain to say 'hello.' I simply have a book to return," the mysterious man informs him flatly, breezing airily towards one of the many bookcases to neatly slot the book into its rightful place on the shelf.

"Ichigo, this is Ulquiorra – Ulquiorra, Ichigo." The introduction is offhanded and painfully brief. Ichigo is stuck contemplating whether to cross the room to shake the man's hand or not. The raven-haired male turns around to face them, his calculating eyes appraising Ichigo, the guest struggles not to squirm beneath his intimidating gaze.

"He's attractive enough I suppose," Ulquiorra states simply before turning back towards his room.

"Wait. What do you mean 'I suppose'? I'm hotter than you'll ever be!" Ichigo immediately defends, crossing his arms over his chest with a vein sticking out of his forehead.

"Do not attempt to engage me in meaningless banter. I am not Abarai-kun," the mysterious man pauses to tell him this before ascending back towards his room, never once bothering to look over his shoulder at him. Ichigo is left to stare after him with a mixture of confusion, annoyance and curiosity. The sound of his door cuts through the silence and swiftly snaps him out of his reverie.

"Don't mind him," Grimmjow waves off unconcernedly, swiveling his body to once again approach one of the doors aligning the opposite wall. "It takes time for him to warm up to people."

"Wait – was he the – uh…" Grimmjow halts, waiting to see if Ichigo will dare to finish his sentence, but somewhere along the line he grow timid and trails off, scratching he back of his head nervously.

"Yeah, he's the other arrancar of the household. He's distant but he cares in his own weird way." Grimmjow starts walking again and this time, Ichigo follows. He begins listing off the doors as they pass them. "First door to the right is Gin's room, then Toshiro's, then Reiji's." His hand settles on the handle of the door facing them – adjacent to the three rooms that had just been listed. "This here's my room – you know where Ulquiorra's room is, and the remaining two are guest rooms for the visiting shinigami."

"Can I – can I see your room?" he hates how tentative he sounds when he asks this – and hates it even more when Grimmjow smirks at him, clearly amused by his shyness.

"Sure," his suggestive tone is all too evident but Ichigo decides to ignore it, crossing his arms over his chest in a weak attempt to fight down his own embarrassment. He's been blushing too damn much since he walked into this godforsaken house and it isn't putting him in a pleasant light dammit!

With a swift flick of his wrist the door is open and Grimmjow strides confidently into his domain, Ichigo hesitantly trailing behind with an almost guarded disposition. He hadn't really known what to expect when Grimmjow flicked on the overhead light – maybe bloodied posters of heavy metal bands, a few skulls ornamenting the walls and perhaps the carcass of a sacrificial goat on his bed – but the contrast of his imagination and the plain reality is almost incomprehensible.

Everything is so normal and tidy and – and simple. There's a larger than average window that's slightly ajar, the night breeze caressing the drawn curtains that sway lazily along with it. There's a desk, chair and lamp wedged into one corner, an inbuilt wardrobe scaling one wall and a queen-sized double bed pressed up against another. Even the sheets and duvet were flawlessly tucked into the mattress.

"What the hell?"

Grimmjow chuckles, leaning coolly against the wall with his hands still in his pockets, looking sinfully appealing with a few azure strands whisking over his eyes. "Not what you excepted?"

"Everything is neat," he deadpans.

"What's wrong with that?"

"It isn't like you."

"You're right, it isn't," Grimmjow smirks lazily, tilting his head to look around his room with an air of sentiment. "Renji wasn't kidding when he said Tōshirō is a neat freak."

"The hell? Is he a girl?"

"He certainly doesn't have the body parts of one," Grimmjow states carelessly – deliberately avoiding Ichigo's stare. The comment strikes the orange-haired male with an overwhelming taste of reality, and he is faced with the difficult fact that Grimmjow has sex with the people he has just met. It isn't all just playful banter and innocent tickling – they're all intimate with one another, and Ichigo has been able to overlook this factor right up until now.

He isn't sure how he feels about it – he isn't angry or bitter about it, but he can't say he's thrilled either. This whole 'sharing' thing is going to be a lot harder than he anticipated – he knows pretty soon he'll have no choice but to make a decision about this arrangement, and he isn't entirely sure what his answer will be. Grimmjow has noticed how serious he looks, because he's staring straight at him – no grin present.

"You don't have to make a decision now," he tells him, obviously reading his mind.

"Yeah – right, sorry." He shakes his head, willing away the disturbing thoughts.

"Grimm!" a voice yells from the bottom of the stairs and the man in question perks at his name.

"Yeah?" Grimmjow calls back.

"Can you call them down? Dinner is ready!" the voice undeniably belongs to Tōshirō.

"Yeah sure thing," the azure-haired male affirms with less volume, aware that the boy's attentive ears would be able to hear him anyhow. He regards Ichigo once more, any traces of seriousness gone from his countenance, replaced by a grin. "Let's go."

Ichigo smiles back, his heart skipping beneath the gentle gaze. "Aa."

Grimmjow goes to the door next to his – one of the guest rooms – and knocks on it firmly. "Oi, dinner's ready!"

"Ikkaku?" a slightly feminine voice inquires as the door opens. Grimmjow crosses his arms over his chest with an insolent huff.

"Do I look bald to you?"

"No need to be a jackass," a man scoffs as he steps out of the room, his dark hair neatly chopped with colored feathers whisking flamboyantly from his right eye. It's evident that he's a shinigami from his traditional attire, with the notable exception of an orange collar and single sleeve knitted beneath the black and white fabric.

Ichigo doesn't notice it straight away, but the stranger had also been appraising him from where he stood. "Oh? And who may you be?" there's a certain sassiness in his attitude and Ichigo is at lost on how to respond.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he forces out, refusing to look like a gaping idiot.

"Oh? You have quite the build," he purrs and he sashays over to him, hips swaying like a woman. Ichigo is unable to move, feet suddenly turning heavy as the man fingers his collar, smiling coyly up at him. "You and I could have a good time – Ikkaku doesn't have to know."

"Watch it pretty boy," Grimmjow growls, shoving the feminine man towards the stairs and pointedly away from Ichigo. "Go eat dinner before I decide to kick you out of the house."

"Hmph! Such ugly words – I wouldn't expect anything less from a hideous arrancar," the man sighs dramatically, turning towards the stairs ready to depart – but not before throwing a suggestive glance over his shoulder at Ichigo. "I'm Ayasegawa Yumichika by the way. Don't go forgetting my name anytime soon, Kurosaki-kun."

Grimmjow rolls his eyes, unwilling to conceal his own displeasure before marching towards Ulquiorra's door. He raises his fist, ready the knock, when it suddenly opens, the man in question standing on the other side apathetically.

"I already know," he tells Grimmjow before brushing past him, granted a side-glance towards Ichigo in mild acknowledgement before ascending the staircase. He meets Ichigo's inquisitive stare and shrugs, sighing half-heartedly as he runs a hand through his hair.

They follow behind Ulquiorra – with still a significant distance separating them. The raven-haired male doesn't seem all that keen on making conversation with either of them, so the short travel is veiled in silence. Once they near the kitchen, the oppressive atmosphere is bombarded with voices and clamoring plates and utensils. They pass through the kitchen into the dining room, where all the other occupants are sitting and standing.

Ikkaku and Yumichika are sitting along one edge of the table – Renji on another as Tōshirō teeters around the table and cushions vehemently organizing the placement of food whilst Gin kneels calmly pouring tea into everybody's cups. Ichigo is greeted by warm exclamations and beaming smiles – the welcoming ambience eliciting a gracious smile of his own.

"Oi Ichigo! Sit next to me!" Renji pats the cushion next to him enthusiastically, like a zealous puppy wagged its tail.

Tōshirō rolls his eyes as he places the last bowl of rice down before settling on the cushion beside Gin, somehow resembling an adoring housewife. "Grimmjow will obviously want his date to sit next to him, Renji-kun."

"Ah I don't mind – he can always sit next to me another time." The proposition of a future visit to this embracing household has Ichigo's stomach doing summersaults as he settles beside Renji, unable to beat down his giddy smile. Grimmjow sits on the cushion directly adjacent to Ichigo, with Ulquiorra sitting quietly down next to him.

No one lifts a finger towards their chopsticks until Gin has finished pouring the tea, the head of the household then squirming to get comfortable. Once he's scooped a cluster of rice into his mouth, chopsticks begin flying in all directions towards the platters of food presented before them. Ichigo can only sit helplessly by and watch as every scrap is stolen from the center at unfathomable speeds. No one hesitates – not even Ulquiorra, who appears to have anticipated this animalistic onslaught and safely snagged an appropriate portion of food onto his plate before the rest of them could get to it.

When there's nothing but empty platters to stare at, he levels his incredulous gaze with a smirking, white-haired brat who happily nibbles on a piece of mildly charred meat. "What? Seven men and you weren't expecting competition?" he teases between bites, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Cha – more like six men and one child." The boy's eyebrow twitches and he seems to swallow down whatever retort he has on the tip of his tongue along with the meat, unwilling to break the friendly ambience that has shrouding the dinner table.

"Yeah I thought you'd be caught off guard, so I snagged extras for you," Grimmjow grins proudly as he distributes portions of food onto Ichigo's plate. The orange-haired male blushes, scratching the back of his head.

"Thanks."

"Aw Grimmjow's in love," Ikkaku taunts whilst making kissy-noises that unknowingly make him look like a pouting fish.

"You're one to talk," the arrancar retorts without any hints of aggression. "My room is right next to yours – be sure to keep it down tonight. Arrancar need to sleep too you know."

Ikkaku and Yumichika's faces go completely red, the latter hiding his face in his hand whilst the former looks away in humiliation. Renji laughter is like a bark as he slams his fist against the table, his other hand clutching his stomach as though he were physically in pain.

"I must agree with Grimmjow, our walls are not soundproof, shinigami-san," Ulquiorra makes a surprising input, although initially Ichigo had assumed that the man would not speak at all throughout the dinner. Nobody else seems particularly shocked at his comment, although Renji and Grimmjow look quite smug with themselves at Ulquiorra's significant support.

"You three ain't no better," Gin says offhandedly, and the smirks are immediately wiped off their faces – Ulquiorra appears unfazed by the older male's sly comment. It's possible that the darker arrancar had anticipated it before it even left Gin's lips.

It's Ikkaku who is laughing now, thrusting a finger in Renji's direction with bits of rice all over his mouth. "I knew you bottomed!"

"W-what? Of course I do! I top and bottom!" the redhead defends his pride with a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. "Most of us swap 'cept Gin and Tōshirō-kun."

"Renji!" the youngest splutters, his pinkening skin contrasting cutely to his snowy white.

"What? Oh come on – don't act like it isn't obvious Tōshirō you might as well have 'bottom' writing across your forehead," the loud-mouthed redhead grumbles as he looks down into his bowl of rice, still evidently embarrassed.

"S-Still!"

"It is not something to be embarrassed about, Tōshirō-kun," Ulquiorra has his eyes closed as he chews on his food, as calm and collected as ever. "Those who top and bottom only matter to small-minded people."

"Why you –"

"Don' go blowin' up Renji-kun. Ulquiorra was only reassurin' lil' one here," Gin interjects with a characteristic curl of his lips, stroking Tōshirō's hair in a comforting manner. The younger waves away his hand agitatedly, embarrassed at the smirks he is receiving.

"Stop it!"

"But lil' one – ya seemed ta enjoy it last nigh'." The boy slams his fists down on the table the same time Ichigo, Ikkaku, Renji and Grimmjow burst into laughter.

"Can we please stop alluding to sex at my dinner table!"

"Snowflake-chan is right – "

"Don't call me that."

" – I want to learn more about Kurosaki-kun," Yumichika flicks his hair, leaning an elbow on the table as he flutters his lashes delicately in the auburn-haired male's direction. Ichigo couldn't be certain – but he thinks he sees Grimmjow's eye twitch out the corner of his eye.

Leaning back slightly, arms crossed over his chest, he regards the attention that has so suddenly been placed upon him with an air of coolness. "Alright – I promise to talk about myself – but only if you guys tell me things about you in exchange. I didn't even know Grimmjow had other… partners until half an hour ago."

"It was a little longer than that," Grimmjow insists, sheepish beneath the leers that are shot his way.

"It's funny ya say tha', Kurosaki-kun. 'Cuz Grimm-kun 'ere hasn't shut up 'bout ya since he met cha." Gin looks thoroughly amused at the pink skin that climbs up the back of the azure-haired male's neck when he says this, any portrayal of emotion hidden behind his deceiving eyes.

"So – despite what Ayasegawa-san says – we know quite a bit about you," the brat supplies, glad that the attention is no longer on himself.

"Yeah, I guess you guys probably know everything – there's really not much to tell," he waves off politely.

"Nonsense!" Yumichika insists with a flamboyant gesture of his hand. "You're a human who can see us! That in itself must have an interesting story behind it!"

"I'm… not certain how I can see you guys – or souls or hollows for that matter. I've just been able to ever since I was a kid…"

"How old are you again?" Ikkaku talks with his mouth full, his volume slightly muffled.

"Eighteen."

"So you still live with you family then?" Tōshirō inquires with a quirk of his white eyebrow, obviously challenging the orange-haired male's state of maturity.

"No, my father owns a medical clinic that's currently undergoing renovations. I figured when I came of age I should move out so he can use my room to accommodate more patients, and that's exactly what happened." Toshiro appears less thrilled to learn that he's mature enough to take care of himself, much to Ichigo's inner satisfaction. 'Take that you damn brat!'

"That's very gracious of you," Ulquiorra comments – and surprisingly he seems to mean it, meeting his gaze evenly.

"Ah – nah, it's better this way. My room was getting too clustered once I graduated from high school. I moved to an apartment not too far from the clinic though – I have two sisters so it's important that they I know I care for them, even if I'm not living with them anymore."

"What's it like…? To have siblings – I mean," Tōshirō asks a little shyly, and somehow – despite how much of a brat he thinks the boy is – found his timidity quite endearing. His eyes are large and pretty, and it's understandably clear to him why everybody seems to dote on the youngest household member.

"It's like… having a safety net. You always have someone there to fall back on if you're lonely or concerned about something… I don't know, I just can't imagine my life without them."

"It's like what you have with Momo-chan," Renji tells Tōshirō helpfully, chuckling when the younger's expressing twists distastefully.

"That bed-wetter is not my sister!"

"No, but she's like a sister to you." The white-haired boy crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, still looking passionately unconvinced by the notion but unwilling to continue protesting childishly. He's getting the sense that he's losing some serious face here.

"Do you have siblings, Grimmjow?" Ichigo inquires with a side-glance towards the man in question, who had been in the process of lifting a steaming cup of tea to his lips. The azure-haired male pauses, lowering his cup with his lips thinning into a grave line. He shares a look with Ulquiorra, who regards the other with an air of understanding that Ichigo cannot comprehend.

"Somethin' like that," Grimmjow answers slowly, unwilling to divulge any further as he takes a sip of his tea. He's perplexed by his words, frowning to himself as conversation continues to hum in the atmosphere, no one really paying any mind to the solemn undertone in Grimmjow's voice.

"So – I have an 'earth' question for you," Renji speaks up, an elbow on the table as he faces Ichigo, looking rather serious. "You have these contraptions here – I believe you call them 'taxis,' that can take you where ever you please. Where do you find these 'taxis'?" He doesn't know whether to find Renji's seriousness laughable or disturbing, so he opts for neither and simply clocks him lightly on the top of the head.

"Oi – that hurt you bastard!"

"Don't be such a baby. If you weren't such an idiot I wouldn't feel the need to do that."

"Hey you're a guest in my house – guests do not mistreat their hosts!"

"It's like a said: I wouldn't feel the need to mistreat said host if he wasn't such an idiot."

"Why you – !"

"So!" Ichimaru claps his hands together, promptly silencing the argument brewing between the younger men. "Is everybody done eatin'? Was tha food to ya satisfaction, Kurosaki-san?"

Immediately straightening where he sits he swiftly composes himself, bowing his head slightly in the utmost respect. "Of course, Ichimaru-san. Thank you for the food, it was delicious."

"Dun be thankin' me now, we owe it all ta Shiro-chan for cookin' this lovely meal. Ain't that right, lil' one?"

"Ah shut up." Tōshirō clearly doesn't take too well to the flattery, but his hardened attitude only receives a chorus of chuckles from around the table. His face glows pink and Ichigo cannot help but join in on the fun, throwing in a teasing comment or two alongside Renji.

"Right – well, you assholes have fun cleaning the dishes. I'm going to bathe," the white-haired boy throws his hands up as though he were tossing the burden of dirty dishes from his conscience.

"Is that an invitation?" Renji wriggles his eyebrows and Grimmjow snorts at the corny line. Tōshirō scowls; drawing the washcloth he had wedged between the waistband of his jeans and shoves it aggressively at the redhead. It smacks Renji across the face like whip, the very impact causing him to fall back with his legs comically up in the air. Ichigo and Ikkaku simultaneously burst into laughter as they point at the disgruntled redhead's hilarious misfortune.

Tōshirō flashes a smirk of triumph before sliding out of the room. It's only much later in the evening when Ichigo realizes that Gin had mysteriously snuck off as well – but to where he could only guess.

"You really don't have to clean up, you are a guest," Grimmjow insists as Ichigo helps Renji stack the bowls and plates whilst Ikkaku adjourns to the kitchen to run warm water in the sink. Yumichika had retreated upstairs, using some lame excuse about "dirtying" his "beautiful hands," whilst Ulquiorra's disappearance had almost been just as discreet as Gin's.

"Nah I insist. I want to help out. It's really the least I could do," Ichigo waves his hand as an offhanded gesture, silencing any protests Grimmjow has waiting to present. Thankfully, the azure-haired male isn't intent on pushing him, shrugging off his hospitality and joining in with the stacking.

Once they've transported all the dirty dishes to the kitchen, Ikkaku already has the sink filled to the brim with bubbles, his black and white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands covered with yellow rubber gloves. Somehow – this sight reminds him of his shameless father who enjoys doing the domestic tasks for too much for a man of his age.

"A'ight let's do this shit!" Baldy throws another pair of gloves at Ichigo, the younger barely able to catch them before they slap him across the chest. "Carrot-top – you're washin' with me! Renji, Grimm – you're drying. Yosh!" He's already started before Ichigo has his gloves on and he scrambles to stand beside him, snatching plates from the bench and attempting to clean them in par with Ikkaku's vigorous speed.

"Hey – you know, I was wondering about something…" he begins as he passes wet dishes to Grimmjow, who whips the washcloth expertly across the plate's exterior in one smooth movement before placing them neatly to the side.

"What's that?" Renji asks from Ikkaku's right, his brows drawn as though the task of drying dishes is quite laboring.

"You guys only have one bathroom – how the hell does that work with so many people under one roof?"

"What are you talking about?" the redhead grunts, his tower of dishes growing a little too precarious for his liking. "We have four bathrooms."

"Huh?" his eyes snap to Grimmjow, who glances at him before shrugging.

"That door I pointed to – the one I said leads to the bathroom? I guess I wasn't entirely clear. It leads to a small hallway that then leads to the bathrooms," he responds as though it's tedious to explain, and Ichigo can understand why because he's looking at Grimmjow as though he's grown two heads.

"So all the bathrooms are in one hallway," he deadpans.

"Well – you see – there's no room for a bathroom on the top floor, and any doors in the lounge room would get in the way of the pool table or television so… yeah," Renji explains distractedly before almost dropping one of the plates handed to him. He slaps Ikkaku upside the head with a growl. "Stop going so damn fast Baldy! Tōshirō will kill me if I break a plate!"

"I'm not going fast Tats, you're just slow!"

"The design of the house is… quirky," he tells Grimmjow, clearly unable to communicate with neither Ikkaku nor Renji any further with their banter being fired back and forth. "It's western on the outside and a little on the inside, but then there's a traditional Japanese eating area…"

"Yeah, Gin conjured this place with his own two hands. He sure ain't an architect that's for sure," the taller chuckles softly to himself, his eyes void of its characteristic wildness. "I guess its quirkiness is what makes it our home though. I wouldn't of had it any other way."

"You… you really love them, don't you?" his brown eyes soften as he pauses in his washing to regard the other. It's strange to think that someone as insanely dysfunctional as Grimmjow could ever have the heart to love another, and yet – the people here are living contradictory of this misconception. He had assumed initially that this whole 'polygamy' crap was an excuse to avoid monogamous commitment – but he was wrong – very, very wrong. Grimmjow is committed – they all are, to one another. From the moment he came through the door it was obvious that their feelings and emotions are all genuine and sincere.

"Yes." Grimmjow is unsurprisingly man enough to admit this to Ichigo, even with the knowledge that this answer could potentially break the fragility of their budding relationship. Instead of anger, the shorter male smiles up at him – not bitterly, but in whole-hearted admiration.

"I was wrong," Ichigo smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry I judged you – and your partners. I hadn't even met them and somehow I thought you'd all be…"

"Losers with commitment issues?" Grimmjow supplies helpfully with a lopsided grin, and elicits a small chuckle from his orange-haired companion.

"Yeah, something like that."

"You don't need to apologize. I should've told you sooner – I should've told you the first night I took you out but…"

"You were scared I'd freak out?" It's Ichigo's turn to smirk.

"Something like that. But it's natural to freak out – nobody has what we have. Had you run off and refused to ever see me again, I wouldn't have held it against you."

"I'm not so sure about that," Ichigo snickers. "You seem pretty obsessed with me." Grimmjow's lips curl deviously at the edge as he hooks an arm around Ichigo's middle, drawing him close against his chest. The short places his wet, gloved hands on the man's chest, cocking his eyebrow suggestively up at him and pretending his heart isn't hammering thunderously against his ribcage at the intimate proximity.

Their lips are close and Ichigo wants nothing more that to grab Grimmjow by the collar and pull him aggressively down into a passionate kiss, but the moment is shattered by Ikkaku's voice.

"Oi lover boy! Quit ya slacking! These dishes ain't gonna clean themselves!" Reluctantly, they pull away from one another – but not without exchanging a few heated looks before returning to their stations. Ichigo pointedly ignores the wagging eyebrows from Renji, who has leant over slightly from behind Ikkaku's frame in an attempt to seize his attention.

In all honesty Ichigo has probably never enjoyed washing dishes as much as he has tonight. Ikkaku and Renji are easy to talk to, their explosive tempers always making it entertaining to tease them. It's a little difficult for him to ignore how Grimmjow would deliberately brush his fingers along his exposed wrist whenever he passes him a cup or plate, but the contact sends bolt of electricity throughout his system. It makes him feel like a giddy little schoolgirl on the inside – and of course he'd never in a million years tell Grimmjow that. He'd never let it down.

"Hey assholes! How's the cleaning coming along?" Ichigo almost drops the cup in his hand at the voice that echoes off the tiles. He doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know it's Tōshirō, but he does anyway – and this time he does drop the cup. It's a good thing Grimmjow has the mind to catch it before it hits the tiled flooring.

The white-haired brat has his arms folded over his chest with an eyebrow quirked, his trademark attitude in check as he tilts his head to the side. Gin and Ulquiorra are behind him – the former leaning casually against the doorframe with his Cheshire grin whilst the latter stands composed off to the side. They're all wearing yukata, a glaring indication that they had all just bathed. Whether it was together or in separate bathrooms – Ichigo wouldn't dare question aloud.

"What's up Shiro-chan?" Renji asks as he hoists a stack of clean dishes into one of the overhead cupboards.

"We're about to watch 'Bura Tama' if you guys want to join us," Tōshirō offers evenly, and it takes his entire will power not to snort.

"You mean that stupid medium show about spirits? I would've thought that crap was beneath you shinigami," Ichigo comments flippantly, turning around to face the others whilst removing his rubber gloves. Tōshirō looks peeved, his eyebrow twitching agitatedly.

"No one asked for your opinion, human."

"Dun go spitin' him now, lil' one. He's entitled ta his opinion," Gin – obviously Tōshirō's voice of reason, chimes in with a merry disposition.

"Whatever," the boy sighs, turning his back to the men in the kitchen. "It's starting in five minutes. We'll be in the lounge room." Then the youngest was gone, Ulquiorra silently following whilst Gin lingered in the doorframe.

"When ya leavin', Kurosaki-kun?" there is nothing rude in his tone when he inquires this – just polite curiosity.

"Actually Grimmjow and I were talking about it before – we agreed he'd walk me home after the dishes were finished." The head of the household nods in light understanding.

"Be sure ta say goodbye b'fore ya leave," he waves over his shoulder before vanishing into the hallway, leaving Ichigo to stare after him silently.

Once the plug was pulled, the sink was clean and the table and benches had received a careless wipe-down, Renji was off to join the rest of the household in the lounge room whilst Ikkaku descended towards the stares – likely to go keep Yumichika company. Ichigo and Grimmjow remain in the kitchen for a little longer, the former leaning against the bench with his arms crossed over his chest, deep in thought.

"You almost look unwilling to leave," the azure-haired male comments smugly, earning a soft smile.

"Honestly? I'm not sure I want to. My empty apartment's got nothing on this place."

"You can be apart of it, you know," Grimmjow blurts out abruptly, but doesn't seem to regret his own hasty words once they're out in the open. Instead he regards Ichigo expectantly – looking mildly anxious.

"I'll think about it," he promises sincerely, and his reply is enough to satisfy Grimmjow for the time being as he nods acceptingly to himself. He's compelled to take the few steps that separate them, cupping the side of Grimmjow's jaw where it isn't obscured by bone. He leans slightly on his tippy toes to connect their lips – intending for the connection to be chaste and simple.

He hadn't anticipated Grimmjow's hasty response – and in retrospect, he really should have. Arms snaked around his middle like iron chains, holding him flush against his bare chest as he swiftly spins them, shoving Ichigo up against the nearest wall. He can all but gasp in surprise when a tongue forces itself past his lips to deepen their kiss, and the shock of the sudden movement melts away.

He folds his arms around Grimmjow's neck and kisses back, releasing tiny moans as he's held captive against the wall. His strong arms are still around him, and it feels as though he's at the other's complete an utter mercy. Grimmjow has both the strength to hold him together or break his spine in half. He's glad he isn't this man's enemy.

Their lips part – mostly because Ichigo needs air, breathing heavily as Grimmjow eagerly continues his assault, his lips trekking south to the human's neck where he sucks on the gentle flesh. Ichigo gasps, throwing his head back and accidently hitting the wall, but the small pain is nothing to the pleasure elicited by Grimmjow's dexterous endeavors.

"G-Grimm," he bites out, squeezing his eyes to savor the incredible sensations before reluctantly placing his hands on Grimmjow's shoulders, gently pushing him away. The azure-haired male growls at the rejection, but surprisingly withdraws, gazing at Ichigo, his eyes hazy with lust and desire. He dares not to look into them – for if he did he knew it'd make things that much more difficult to endure.

"We should probably get going," he rasps, staring intently at the ceiling. He hears Grimmjow curse softly under his breath before taking a step back, running a hand through his impeccably styled hair.

"Aa."

The lounge room is dark when they enter, illuminated by the glow of the television to their right. Peering over the back of the couch Ichigo finds a most endearing sight. Tōshirō's head is resting on Ichimaru's lap whilst his bare feet are tucked on Ulquiorra's, staring with concentration at the television screen as the eldest runs his hands through the younger boy's hair. Renji has made himself comfortable next to Ulquiorra on the edge of the couch, one arm resting on the back of the couch whilst his other settled on the armrest.

"'You heading off, Ichigo?" Renji is the first to acknowledge him, inclining his head back to look at him.

"Aa."

"Come back soon, ne?" Ichimaru tells him, peering over his shoulder.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Ulquiorra inform with a slight glance in Ichigo's direction, although he could hardly tell if the other arrancar was being genuine or just polite.

There's a silence in which all eyes have fallen on Hitsugaya, anticipating his farewell. When his eyes remain glued to the screen he receives a sharp tug on one of his strands from Gin.

"Ow!"

"Where's ya manners, lil' one? Say goodbye ta our guest." The brat rolls his eyes obnoxiously before shifting slightly away from the TV, clearly unwilling to sit up to properly face Ichigo.

"See you…" the boy frowns, as though he's considering saying something rude, but with his head in Ichimaru's lap he has to be a little more cautious. "Kurosaki-san…"

"See you later," the human waves as he ascends towards the hallway leading to the front door, Grimmjow in tow.

It's quiet outside as they step past the transparent threshold protecting the house from threats, not a sound to be heard in the tranquility of the night. They walk with their hands in their pockets, and Ichigo realizes he has to be conscious of the fact that he looks as though he's alone to any other human. Grimmjow is from a different world – he may as well be imaginary if he's the only one capable of seeing him.

Is it wise to associate himself with this man? Is it wise to involve himself with a world that is not his own? From what he has learned Grimmjow's realm is dangerous and gory – it is most certainly no place for a human. His affiliation will likely burden Grimmjow, he'll suddenly become this constant damsel in distress who will continues to need the arrancar's aid against the nasty, evil hollows. Would he willingly place himself in such a vulnerable position for the sake of simply being with Grimmjow? Even more – could he learn to view the rest of Grimmjow's partners as his own?

"You look worried," his companion comments after a pregnant silence, looking particularly calm as he gazes up at the night sky.

"I'm just thinking about… stuff."

"Like what?"

"It's like you've brought me into another universe. Everything is new and different and I'm a little overwhelmed…" he pauses, glancing at the taller male. "But… I'm not so sure I can walk away from this now… now that I know that there's this whole other world that's shifted the very foundation of my existence. It's new and exciting and so damn different from anything I've ever experienced before… but I'm just a human – that's all I'll ever be. I'll probably only burden you, Grimmjow."

He smirks, meeting his gaze. "You're probably right." They stop walking, Ichigo concealing his own dismay at Grimmjow's brash confirmation. "If you want to be apart of my world, you can't remain human."

"What do you mean?" the orange-haired male perks up at the suggestion, confused yet curious.

"It's too dangerous to remain human – if you become apart of my life, that is. It's different with the others 'cuz they're shinigami and arrancar, they know how to protect themselves. There are people out there who want me dead, Ichigo. They'll do whatever it takes to get to me – even if it means hurting those closest to me. I think it's best we don't see each other from now on – not until you've made your decision. I'm not gonna force you. This decision can only be made by you and you alone."

"If being with you means I can't be human, what would I be then?"

Grimmjow smirks, but Ichigo can't tell if it's bitter or not.

"A shinigami."

A/N: I've got a plot cooking, I know what I wanna write but I'm uncertain of whether to continue this. I'll just see if anybodies interested ^_^

Review pls!