A Bond is Unpredictable
He’s really a brat. Why you put up with the constant mental and verbal competition is beyond you when you could have anyone in the universe as your personal bodyguard. Even a captain of the Gotei 13 would have to abandon his or her post if you asked of it- being the 24th seat of the noble house of Shihōin did have it’s perks- the power, the respect, the-
“Goddamn woman! Listen to me when I’m talking to you! Where the fuck did you put my clothes? I look like a damn clown!”
Your eyes flutter closed as you reign in on your explosive temper, a trait that happened to skip your elder sister and brother to settle on your shoulders. Usually, you were calm and collected, soft spoken with a sweet smile to entice and entrance the people around you into getting out of the boring work your house placed upon you. But whenever he came into view with that cocky smirk and grudging attitude, it was impossible to hold your composure. Could you really be blamed? Grimmjow is rude and brooding, with twisted smiles and threatening eyes and lips that looked like sin. No one dared give you any looks, evil or appreciative, whenever he was by your side, eyeing up every single shinigami in your presence. And it’s not as if he’s staking his claim, you don’t think, it’s that he’s naturally that fucking rude.
Exhaling a slow, calming breath, you open your eyes to glare up at the glowering ex-espada inches from your face. He finds it more intimidating to be towering over you, but you’d long since smudged out the feelings and the blushing to glare back at him. He is your guard, the only guard you need by your own standards and against the advising of Central 46, the only one allowed to actively stay by your side. And it’s not love. No, despite the little twinge in your chest as you stare into those angry, cerulean orbs; you are not in love, not in the slightest. Your eyes stay in contact with his until he growls lowly, the noise vibrating from the back of his chest.
“You’re acting like a child, Grim. Your clothes were all bloody again so I let a servant wash them. And that Shihakushō was custom made by my orders. It cost more than you’re worth,” You spat back, eyes narrowing as his growl grew exponentially, cutting off with a ‘tch.’ Always so grumpy with enough mood swings to keep you on your toes. You watch him turn his face away and shove his hands into his pockets, eyes following along the muscular form of his arms to the sleeveless uniform. You felt it suited him better, fitting enough to show off his build with the front open enough to reveal a sliver of the hollow circle pressed through his abdomen. Now- that wasn’t necessary, but it didn’t hurt to insist upon. It gave you something to stare at whenever he went on a tirade about how irritating you could be or while he was in battle, that crazed grin on his face.
You admit, you are a glutton, and he is such a lovely site when he isn’t talking.
“This garbage? You’re supposed to be some damn noble yet you waste your money on trash like this, (y/n)? God, why am I even here?” It’s a question you’ve never truly answered before, no matter how many times it leaves his mouth as an irritated yell or grumble, you never had the nerve to respond. Because- because- you don’t know. You could have Byakuya, although that would be too much pushing for a proposal or meshing of family ties and no, fuck no, or even Kensei, although his attitude isn’t much better than the blue monstrosity. Anyone else would do as the personal bodyguard to the head of the first noble house, and they would all be happy to be rid of him, of the intruder within their midst, allowed to be where no one else could ever go. Grimmjow is never welcome, although his attitude makes it easy to dislike him. But you wouldn’t dare tell Grimmjow to leave your side, couldn’t bear the thought of him being far away. You aren’t in love, why would you love a moronic pussy?, but to feel that separation would be a pain too great. Maybe it’s the same for Yoruichi; you knew she left for Kisuke with his name inked against her ankle like a prize. When he left, she abandoned the house, the name, the title, all of it to be by his side in support and love. She loves Kisuke, the pervert, and you would always be happy for her for taking control of her life and her wants and wishes. She is so strong, the brightest and best to ever be born under the House of Shihōin and you-
you’re the weak little sister who always tried her hardest but never lived up to the fame. You were the shortest in your family, still had problems with kido although your swordsmanship rivaled that of your sister. She had always been about close combat and leading the stealth force, while you forged a powerful bond with you zanpakuto. Shikai came easy, your bankai had a restriction because of it’s impossible power, and your shunpo was up to par, but Yoruichi had been a captain, a commander, she was was beautiful and deadly and rivaled while you were small, endearing, a cute drawing compared to a beautiful canvas.
Huffing, you watched your guard grumble to himself as he moodily shifted around with his arms crossed and his feet kicking around pillows like a child, a tiny smile playing on your face from where you sat against a large red pillow on the ground, your room door open with the sun streaming in everywhere. Well, one of many rooms, open space with pillows all over because aside from apparently lacking inspiration, you’d learned to be a laze like uncle Shunsui.
“I keep you around because I want to,” You call out to catch his attention, rolling onto your side to face away from him, not wanting the cat to see the vulnerability on your face. The number has nothing to do with it. It sits in hiding under your luxurious sky blue kimono, pestering you day by day when the servants dress you in the morning. They don’t breathe a word of it, of the six stark against your flesh just above your belly button. It’s ticklish and sensitive and you never knew why it was there until the day you suddenly did. Visiting the human world, dealing with the espada and Aizen and the hurt and pain and worry over your family and the squad captains, you saw him. Las Noches was devoid of emotion except deceit and lies and he was angry and alone. You could have killed each other, but you saw the six on his back during battle against underlings and suddenly everything shifted inside of you and you wanted to see him every single day for the rest of your life. It’s crazy, unpredictable, that the enemy could invade your senses like this, but Kisuke had been seen as the enemy and Yoruichi hadn’t cared. She’d followed him anywhere, everywhere. It was admirable, really. You could look up to that trait of hers while trying to be just as good. “Why do you stay?”
It’s not love. He doesn’t love you, his form silently slinking over to sit down beside you, that familiar ‘tch’ of annoyance passing his lips as you feel a warmth against your back. You hide your face in you pillow, (h/l), (h/c) splayed out behind you. It’s sunny and the birds have just given birth to new peeping chicks and the flowers in your personal meadow have bloomed despite Grimmjow being a horrid gardener. You don’t love him. Your body instinctively relaxes the moment a hand touches your smooth tresses, fingers careful, almost caring as they stroke through your hair.
“Because some woman decided it was a good idea for me to guard her. She’s annoying and whiney and all she likes to do is fuck with me, but it gives me something to do. She lets me kill things, too. I guess I’m in her debt.” He explains and you can tell he’s shrugging, voice rough but hand soft. It’s… almost nice, almost. But it is, in his own way, the sweetest thing he’s probably ever going to say to you. You turn your head enough to look back at him, pressing a little closer to his touches like an attention deprived feline. Your tattoo is warm, a grounding sensation right there in your chest and being so close to him in this summer sun is making it worse. He’s looking at you but you don’t know if he sees it there in your eyes, if he has the capacity to understand what’s under the surface.
“Do you… ever miss Las Noches?” You almost trip over the words escaping your mouth as you stare him and into those blue, blue eyes. Having eyes so impossibly blue doesn’t match his personality at all. He’s a horrible person for such pretty eyes. His face scrunches up into a disgusted scowl as he keeps moving his hand through your hair, nails tracing along your scalp.
“That shithole? Not a chance.” It was boring. It was lonely. He lived for the hunt, for the kill, but once he’d hunted everything down, what did he have then? More empty, quiet nights full of nothing but that emptiness literally in his chest. Aizen, the bastard he still hates, gave him power, a purpose. He couldn’t look down on that. But you? It’s a crazy thing, being here in what used to be enemy territory, taking care of a girl that can take care of herself. She is rich in so many ways, and it only makes his temper worse because she’s strong. He has wants now, too. And one of them, the one that matters the most, is the job bestowed up him by you. He wants to take care of you, protect you from anything and everything even if you could do it all by yourself if you wanted. He is extendable, he thinks, but the way you react to his question leaves his assumption that you need him. He doesn’t know what the feeling inside of him is, even with the hollow hole there, even with not an ounce of humanity in him, he doesn’t know how to express any emotion but anger and more anger and rage and his temper. But being in the soul society and the human world had helped. And that asshole Kurosaki did too.
You don’t love anything or anyone but your family. Your house. The title you now carry on your back like the tattoo on your chest. It’s a heavy burden, but one you take pride in because it is all yours. Your house thrives under your unwavering care, despite your lazy demeanor, but since you’ve gotten this new bodyguard, you light up brighter than before. You smile more. You laugh and sneak out from under your other royal guards to visit the captains and spend time with your friends, Grimmjow by your side with that irritated look on his face and a glare to anyone (mostly men) who try to greet you with a hug, forcing them to take two steps back on instinct. He’s always more distant when you go out and about in the seireitei, silent and brooding but exploding the second someone steps into your space. And then you yell at him for being cruel and he calls you a moronic child and it’s a fight here and there and Shunsui and Rose can’t help but chuckle at the obvious affection. Only Grimmjow can make you angry in that way, and only you seem to be able to bring out something that isn’t anger in his eyes as he stares at you when you aren’t looking.
You’re never looking when you should be. If only you could hear his own muddled thoughts as he looks back at you, sees the depths in your eyes and wants to maybe sink into them one day. He wishes he could understand this emotion, the feeling whenever he touches you or looks at you. He’s not angry even when he’s always angry. Right now he’s so calm that he fucking hates it and wants to keep a hold of it at the same time.
“Keep… petting…” You murmur into the quiet, shifting enough to rest your head against Grimmjow’s lap without permission. You’re so warm, so grounded, happy, and the summer sun saps you of your energy and makes you feel so sleepy. Grimmjow smells like the flowers from the meadow and garden from when you forced him to water everything after inducing blackmail, and you take in a little sniff. You trust him with your life even when you shouldn’t. He was- is- could always be an enemy for his part in the war, but even then, you would have placed your care in his hands, well aware that he could crush you between his palms if he wished.
“I’m not your fucking slave,” Grimmjow hissed softly as he keeps touching her hair. He just wants to have her closer, as close as possible, to maybe hold her for even just a second. He doesn’t know the word for it but he loves her. He loves everything about her, even the parts that he hates. Like her bossy nature and smart mouth and kind eyes and when she grabs him by the hand and drags him places he doesn’t want to go to. You fall into a relaxing sleep under his watching eyes, lips going slack and face growing soft. Pretty. He knows the word, the meaning, it’s clawing at the back of his throat. Beautiful. And she doesn’t seem to know that she is. She’s always going on and on about that cat woman, her older sister, but Grimmjow thinks it’s petty bullshit and that the person right here with him is good enough. Strong enough.
And the last little thought that trickles through your mind before you settle in for a nap in the sun is that yes, you do. You love him. You love this attachment you have to him. You love his sass and his remarks and how he’ll always be by your side. You love that he’s determined and wild, so unpredictable that it’s almost scary. You love that you are the only one able to be this close to him without being truly hurt and that in your moments of weakness, he protects you.
You love it all.
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