Bleach does not belong to me, nor its characters, settings or events.

Warning: serious crack ahead. Continue at your own risk. See my profile for an alternate ending to this miniseries, entitled When Plot Bunnies Attack: Invasion!

Szayel watched him carefully. Any moment now...

Ulquiorra was sitting down. Cool, composed and for all the world a stone statue. Aizen had already distributed the tea and was talking about anything and everything under the sun. The minutes trickled by slowly and dully. It reminded Szayel of mud. So dull.

Ulquiorra was growing fidgety, Szayel noticed, wringing his hands and glancing around, and then glancing around again to see if anyone had noticed him glancing around.

This should get interesting.

Aizen was discussing toiletry finances when a strange look passed over Ulquiorra's face. He stood up. "Please excuse me, Aizen-sama."

It was about damn time.

Interrupted, Aizen sat back and regarded him thoughtfully. "What is it, Ulquiorra?"

Ulquiorra stood stiffly, hands at his sides. Not in his pockets. Odd. "I have sudden urges I must attend to, Aizen-sama. Please forgive me." And with that he departed.

The wind ruffled at everyone's hair. Silence reigned for a moment. "Urges?" Grimmjow echoed.

Noitora scowled. "What the hell does Ulquiorra have to do that's so urgent that it would interrupt his ass kissing?"

"Maybe he realized how fucking boring this is and the strain cracked him." Grimmjow, of course.

"Maybe he needed to use the restroom—"

"Or check the oven—"

"Or feed his gerbils—"

Everyone quieted at that. "What the hell? Gerbils?"

A smile spread across Grimmjow's face. "Ulquiorra keeps gerbils?"

"Not only that, I've seen him cooing to them at night—"

"Enough," said Aizen firmly, raising a hand to halt the exchange. "I'm sure Ulquiorra had a perfectly valid reason to run out on us like that." As he turned away Szayel distinctly heard him snigger, "Gerbils..."

Ah, speak of the devil. As if on cue Ulquiorra stepped back into the meeting hall. He inclined his head respectfully towards Aizen. "Forgive me, Aizen-sama, for my absence. It would make me so..." he seemed to struggle with the word, "so happy if you would look past my impudence."

This perked everyone's ears. Ulquiorra? Happy? They watched this new development with interest. Szayel, however, had deeper reasons to observe him.

"In fact," Ulquiorra continued as he advanced towards Aizen, who was looking rather unsettled, "I am feeling... happy today. Emotional. That is it. I am feeling..." now he had his arms wrapped around Aizen, whose expression had quickly mutated from unsettled to horrified, "emotional."

Szayel grinned to himself. Perfect. It was perfect.

It was stark contrast to the rest of the assembled Espada, who looked as though they were watching their dead mothers dancing the tango.

"I think I'll just give you all a hug," Ulquiorra said vaguely. "Let's spread the happiness." The Espada were now scrambling out of their seats and packing themselves into the nearest corner. Yami peered out fearfully from behind Aizen.

A large grin spread itself across Ulquiorra's face. It was rapidly taking effect in his body, Szayel observed. It was potent, probably moreso than he intended.

An idea seemed to formulate in Ulquiorra's mind. "I'll be right back!" he chirped. Szayel could practically see the light bulb dancing above his head.

And he was off, faster than their eyes could trace.

Dead silence.

Yami was trembling, Noitora's normally narrow eyes looked like golfballs, and Grimmjow looked like he wanted to hide behind the nearest pillar. Or punch it. Szayel yawned.

Aizen narrowed his eyes at Szayel, who had, alone, remained in his seat. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You! What have you done to my Ulquiorra?!"

"What ever do you mean, Aizen-sama?" Szayel replied innocently.

"You slipped something into his tea!" he screamed. "My Ulquiorra has some unearthly concoction messing with his brain!" He turned away, sobbing. "Ulquiorra, my poor Ulquiorra..."

"What the hell did you do, Grantz?" demanded Noitora. "A fucking medicinal lobotomy?"

"Something like that, yes. Except not nearly as permanent."

"Not permanent?" Aizen had rushed to Szayel, grabbing his collar. He looked hysterical. "Will it wear off, then?"

"It's a reversal of personality," replied Szayel simply. "It should wear off within, oh, a week or so."

Aizen looked relieved. "Oh, that's good." He blinked. "Wait, a week?"

Ulquiorra chose that time to come bounding in. Everyone did a double-take. His clothes. Oh god, his clothes.

He was wearing a long, tattered white cape, obviously taken from the draperies. In either hand was his zanpakutō and a white disc that looked suspiciously like it had been ripped off of one of Noitora's uniforms. He held it like a shield. And he wore nothing except—

Oh, god. A loincloth.

He took a running leap at Aizen, brandishing the sword. "THIS! IS! ESPADAAAAA!!"

Aizen screamed shrilly. "Ulqui-chan, no!"

I love poking fun at Ulquiorra. It's an obsession of mine.

-points down- Please review!