Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; genius Kubo Tite does.

Warning: Explicit language and mature contents ahead. And oh, this is pointless, I swear as god is my witness. Pardon me for the errors. Grimmjow may be out of character.

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He followed him around the house without hindering his course. For the first time in his rather unbridled life, Grimmjow Jaggerjack was doing all the compromising and adjusting.

"Now you stop right there, mister. Where d'ya think you're going?" Grimmjow asked, sounding as though he had all the authority and ability to put things his way.

"Out."

"I know, dammit. 'Out' means anywhere without a fucking roof. You could do me a little a favor by not being as general as shit."

"Anywhere far away from you." Kurosaki Ichigo replied coolly.

The Espada pursed his lip, rubbed his palm against his neck, and heaved a sigh foreboding of an eruption of fury. One might easily suspect it was a prelude to wringing the orange-haired boy's neck.

"Come here; let's talk." Grimmjow said under the pretentious belief that all could be settled in a calm and proper procedure.

"Maybe later." Ichigo already had his hand on the doorknob.

Grimmjow was seized with alarm at this response. Ichigo was never the submissive type; he would talk back and raise his voice to him when the occasion would call for them, but he never, in all the weeks they had been together, exercised this much indifference. It appeared to Grimmjow that such behavior of Ichigo never existed until it was openly expressed. It was going out of hands.

"Ichigo, what exactly are you trying to prove here? Just what are you doing?"

"Leaving." With that, he swung the door open and disappeared no sooner than the Espada could utter another phrase. Grimmjow had no choice but to follow him to seek for resolve, whatever it might have been.

He tried to catch up with the teen's strides and maintain his cool with what was left of his patience, all the while suffering curious eyes darting at their direction.

"I'll go straight to the point, young man; you are behaving like a total git and an insufferable brat. I can be your baby-sitter only for too fucking long and you know what? This is effing way past too long."

"Yeah, I think so too."

There was a long pause. Grimmjow stopped rooted in his spot, hardly knowing whether to walk away or to persevere.

"How about you give me some clues, hints, or any brief particulars on what's pulling your I-am-being-a-goddamn-prick strings."

"I'm in no mood for that."

"Okay, lemme make a few guesses, then. I expect you're old enough to pay attention." Grimmjow said slowly through tightly clenched teeth. Murder could be just seconds away.

"Whatever pleases you."

"Whatever pleases me? It would give me a whole damn lot of pleasing if you started acting your damn age." Grimmjow was swinging his arms in the air as though preparing to strike his boyfriend dead with his fists.

"…"

"First guess: you're trying to break up with me. I must say, with the shit you're pulling right now, you're not just breaking my heart; you're pushing me to run my head up a fucking wall—"

"I'm not breaking up with you."

This shut the Espada up. He didn't know which expression to assume under the incoherent multitudes of his emotions. There was relief and worry, though anger still hadn't subsided.

"You're not? Well…second guess: you want space?"

"Cliché. I don't subscribe to shit of that sort."

"Really? How about: you're mad at me cos I'm a chick magnet?"

"Not really."

"Are you sure? Let's see…you want me to pay more attention to you?"

"I've had enough of them from you to last me eight lifetimes."

"You want less?"

"Try doing that and they'll be picking you up from the dumpsite two seconds later."

"Okay, okay…you're intimidated by my aggressiveness? Want me to tone it down a notch?"

"I fell asleep during sex once or twice, remember?"

"Thrice, if you must know. Jeez you don't have to go into that…say, am I too hot to handle?"

"Frankly, I can manage."

"Hmm…I need to get sweeter?"

"Nah, it wouldn't suit you."

"Ah, I know, this is just one of those red days; mood swing is kicking you, right?"

"Men don't get periods."

"I see…some moron told you to act like a fucking stone for a day to spice things up between us."

"I'm not that stupid."

"Well then, it has to be that you're gonna die tomorrow and the only cure for you is to be a jerk and treat me like trash."

Ichigo shot him a menacing glare.

"Okay, sorry for that. But if that's not the case, it has to be that I'm gonna die tomorrow and the only cure for me is that you have to be a jerk and treat me like trash."

The teen rolled his disgusted eyes and swiveled around, leaving the other like an abandoned idiot left to dry under the sun.

"Mankind is facing extinction and the world is going under total annihilation and the only hope for us all is for you to start acting like an abhorrent bastard toward me?"

Ichigo, with his back on the Espada, shook his head without a word. The other could only speculate what look he had on his face.

"If that's still not the case, then what the hell is?? It's as clear as day that what you're showing me right now, this—this awful behavior, this despicable immaturity, this I don't know, is only excusable by the matter of life and death or the end of the world. Now, if neither of us is off to bite dust anytime soon, it would mean that you are indeed deliberately driving me nuts or egging me to commit suicide, so tell me, which is it?"

"I don't want you crazy or dead, that's for sure."

Grimmjow's nails were digging on his palms. Gradually, his throat untied itself, his voice grew steadier, and words started to fall into line.

"Sometimes, I can't tell what you want. Perhaps you yourself can't make out what goes on in that obstinate head of yours. You're like a pregnant woman who doesn't know in the fucking least what she actually wants."

"That only goes to show how much you don't know me, Grimmjow."

"Really? Shouldn't we take into account your ever so inconsistent and fickle whims? Your words imply one thing, your actions another, and what's in your head is a third. A little help would suffice, man! But that doesn't end there, does it, because on top of everything, and this has to be said, is your obstinacy, which, believe me, has swollen to excess! To such an extent which I can't handle!" The Espada's voice was ascending by considerable decibels, and his stature seemed to be magnified.

Ichigo wheeled around and advanced toward the other.

"You fucked like an exhausted, paralysis-stricken geezer last night."

Grimmjow stared at him in dumbfounded immobility. He opened and closed his mouth in a rapid succession without producing anything that could be associated with any word. He recounted their activities last night: he played Grand Theft Auto until 2 o'clock in the morning and by the time he got into bed with his partner, he was already spent like a Rugby player after a double-overtime match. Ichigo was staring at him in an impatient anticipation and was looking as though he had some close kinship with vampires at the moment.

"I—well, it was your Playstation's fault—you don't blame me, do ya? It was the fucking game…"

"Actually, Grimmjow, it wasn't the fucking game that got into my tits; it was just the fucking."

Color darkened the Espada's complexion. He couldn't get his words to flow like they did some ten minutes earlier.

"A—alright, you er, you tuck that thing away, and er—"

"Yeah, I'll chuck that shit away, and tonight I'll be on top."

He wanted to protest, which was unfortunately far behind being a good idea, for it appeared that his boyfriend's current temper would not permit the slightest objection.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, sure, no problem" Grimmjow was forced to mutter faint agreements which he did not wholly mean, all things considered. It ain't that bad; changing positions and all, but…he thought, trying to convince himself that he deserved what he got.

"Good."

END