Title: Opposites Do Attract

Summary: GrimmjowxUlquiorra .Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are stuck in roles as each other's anti-poles…which will eventually unite. Oneshot. GrimmUlqui POV.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; genius Kubo Tite does. A few lines are extracted from the song 'Penguins and Polar Bears' by Millencolin.

Yoh, Ulquiorra Scheiffer,

It's a mind game we play; I don't like you and you don't like me. It's no secret. Living this way is something that we never did plan. But the positions will remain, never to be altered by any force. You're on the top while I am low,and as soon as you're fading I will grow; it rhymes perfectly, huh? Well, bravo, your apathy has habituated me to pine for your irritation. I've never been once successful, but someday I will be. You mark my words, Ulquiorra. You go by, as if you own the place, acting all high and mighty like the boss of the world or something to that effect, with only your indifference to offer. Gimme a break. You know what? You might as well be strutting and spitting at the less fortunate creatures (which I'm damn sure do not include me), to push them to, I dunno, suicide? You look at me, all your emotions veiled and obscured by whatever it is you're good at, plainly implying that this action bodes one thing only: you're sneering at me, inwardly or mentally (can't tell), to the point of provocation. You disgust me-- you and your demonstration of orderly submission to higher authority. Why don't you just come at me and let's tear each other to shreds? Who the hell made you a model character anyway? For fuck's sake, cut it with your deluded devotion to your stupid duties. Are you a puppet or something? Haven't got the guts and brains to do your own thing? Cuatro Espada you may be, I'm two ranks below, but whatever. Even as such may be the case, however, it's not like you can reduce me to dust if you choose to; you're scared, scared of what this dispute may result to. And I'm thirsty, thirsty for your blood, and I wonder if I'll ever experience the glory of drinking it. We shall see. For the meantime, I'll go on scorning your passiveness. Here goes and catch this: You Are A Big Bore. Believe me, you're completely ignorable and unmindable. What, there's no such word in the dictionary? Well, lucky for me 'cos the definition happens to be just right in front of me: YOU. There, I just invented a word that will definitely be made official. The creative genius that I am. I'm quite sure I wouldn't notice and I swear I'd be the last person to care if you'd gone off biting dust. Yeah, that just about sums up what you are, and guess what? Everybody thinks so too. Just how pretentious can you get? You are so unoriginal, so much that you make me sick…oh no, on the contrary, you're starting to become my most convenient source of hilarity! Don't worry, I'll just be here, contributing to the growing list of things you don't know about your uninteresting self. See, even you don't know much about you! You never cease to amaze me. And remind me again that I'm just here to be your pesky disturbance. Not for long, though, for murdering you is just right around the corner; it's only a matter of choosing the right time to execute it, ya know. So for now, go on and complete the picture of the loser combination of boredom and hypocrisy. Join Tousen's Crusade for justice and pure intentions for all I effing care. Like, can anyone get lamer than that? Like, can anyone get lamer than you?

No, seriously, feelings, are the expressions of which always so virtually impenetrable in your case? I mean, how do you deal with anger, stress, and er, this is just strictly out of curiosity, attraction? You just keep them? Well, that's just downright pathetic. So pathetic in fact that I am actually pushed to pity. Me, heartless and merciless me-- you must be some sort of a miracle worker, huh? And just what are your means of amusement anyway? Ignoring people? Reciting monologues? Staring off blankly? Trying to look cool at any chance you get? Giving reports? What exactly? I happen to have in possession an equation that you might find funny, if you are indeed capable of cracking a friggin' smile: Ulquiorra Scheiffer equals Zero fun. So now, I have a proposal: I'm going completely out of my way to be charitable. 'Give alms to the poor', they say. Huge favor on my part, but yeah, I'm this brilliant; hotness incarnate, jockness personified, godly appeal in flesh and blood all rolled into one heck of an Espada that is Grimmjaw Jaggerjack. Too sexy, huh? Almost criminal if you ask me. But I digress. Let's go back to my offer. Here's the deal: I'll play nice, just this once. You want a break from your utterly monotonous, repetitive, straight-patterned life? Fine. This expert will bless you with the secrets of his life's success. Sleep with me. Yeah, that's it. Take it or leave it. It's your lucky day; better than hitting jackpot in the lottery if you must know. So think about it. I mean, do you even need to? Ciao.

I'll be waiting for a reply. Who else can it be,

Grimmjow Jaggerjack

To: Grimmjow Jaggerjack,

Major cliché: you and me being the polar ends of an insane world. I know you're thinking the same: you and me, nah ah. Not going to happen. You are so right, perhaps for the first time in your life? This calls for a celebration. Where did you wander off and stumble upon a brain? You know, looking at you just inspires me even more to ignore you. You can do cartwheels all day long and I'll just rejoice to myself at your indignity. Curse me, hate me. What. Fucking. Ever. I'm not going to shed any light on the whereabouts of my reactions; you can grope around and die trying to decipher the unreadable me. By the way, I'm finding the attention you're giving me highly amusing; yes, I feel amusement and a profound one at that whenever you make a moron of your already idiotic self trying to get me to notice the incorrigible you. That's just overkill, just to inform you in case you're still ignorant about it. I will continue to laugh (mentally) at you as you exercise ignorance amid the defilement of your reputation. How obstinate can you get? My, you have the persistent of something permanent and un-resting that you almost hit the target, the target being my patience. But no, I will not lose my cool over you, Sexta Espada. Though I must admit, I marvel at your ways, your intentions of discomforting the intolerant, the inseparability of your uniqueness and viciousness, your obtrusive, almost revolting regard for warfare, your insatiable bloodlust... Grimmjaw Jaggerjack, you really are a fool.

To be clear, I never once conceived you as someone companionable; you can be contagious for all I know. Being near you alone gives me enough reason to detest you, reasons I can't define-- I don't know, for it's beyond my articulation. Yes, you are that disagreeable. Do you honestly think I could care less about your foolish persecutions of rebellious deeds in my presence? You think too highly of yourself. You are hardly deserving of my glance. But now I cast you a cursory glance, my greeting of sullenness as you put it. And I stare face to face with your elaborate props: your infamous mocking grin, your smirk, a thing so basic in your behavior that I suspect it's pasted on your face as a default expression. You think that's cool? Far from it. Now your eyes are frantically shooting me through and through with sarcasm. Ha, I pity you. You consciously pattern your conducts under the guidance of a fraudulent reliance on self-education and your ridiculously inaccurate suppositions. You need help, a mentor to be precise, or else you'd just be a moron forever. Forever's a strong word, isn't it? That's the truth, so deal with it. Your eyes are still on mine, and they further contribute to the authenticity of your disguise. No use. I know what's boiling inside you: You want to rip me limb from limb. As if. Dream on; it's free. You're getting increasingly apprehensive with each passing second-- ah, just look at yourself right now! Such a theatrical sight! You practice hostility in such a degree that it's already vanity to you. You restless soul, I condemn yet I condone your dedication to discord and disorder, for, after all, what can be expected from a fiery, heedless and simple mind?

You forge and wield your weapon of self-torture, unknowingly by the looks of it. I congratulate you: You have managed to steal a scant amount of my attention. I must note that the means by which you accomplished such is just cheap. All these things you wish to do to me are nothing but desires which you would not even dare to act upon. Spell this: Coward. You have roused my sympathy. I just hope that someday you'll be the beneficiary of a better luck. For now, I can never think highly of you. You're just like a sinner in search of the impossible salvation; you have no hope of having a claim on my respect. But if you don't want to be miserable forever, you can come by my room and have a piece of me. It's that simple. Who knows, perhaps I can appease your violent urges, transform you or whatever. It's just sex; nothing serious and all consensual and noncommittal. Nothing long-term either, unless of course we compromise. It's your call; otherwise this is once in a lifetime, mind you. It's not like every day happens to be like this, Ulquiorra Scheiffer changing the course of his alleged predictable actions just to salvage you from the shitty dead end you call your life. All out of pity. Won't be my loss if you decline. So, I'll see you around, Grimmjaw.

Yours truly,

Ulquiorra Scheiffer

END