Did he seriously just...

Ichigo was caught between being pissed off Grimmjow had basically called him a strawberry (oh, how original), and embarrassingly turned on by the way the man had said it. He decided to meet in the middle and just be very miffed.

"My name doesn't mean strawberry, asshole," he grumbled.

The blunette laughed, pushing the empty sundae glass over to him. "I never said it did. All I said was I love strawberries, and I do."

"Tch, sure."

Seriously, how many times had he heard that stupid joke? His name meant number one protector; his mom hadn't named him after a damn fruit! He was starting to reconsider liking this man at all just for that comment.

Grimmjow leaned forward on his stool, resting his elbows on the counter as he stared right into Ichigo's face, capturing him in a solemn blue stare.

"I do, actually. Strawberries are my favorite fruit. I like strawberry ice cream, strawberry toppings, chocolate-covered strawberries, strawberry pocki, strawberry milk and I put strawberry jam on my PB and J. I. LOVE. STRAWBERRIES."

The orangette just stared at the blue-haired man's serious face. Then his lips twitched. Before he could control himself, he was bent double, clutching his stomach as he laughed hysterically. God, how could the man be so sexy, so masculine, yet so damn adorable?

Said man was currently looking at Ichigo like he was crazy, clearly not sure whether to laugh as well or yell at him. Ichigo decided to clear that right up.

"S-sorry," he chuckled, trying to get control of his body again. "You were just so...serious! Haha, jeez, it's just food, nothing to get so worked up over." He wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath as he finally reined in the last of his giggles. "I believe you, you actually really love strawberries. Although, when you say it like that, it comes across as a borderline unhealthy obsession."

He smiled, his brown eyes alight with mirth. "You know, this really is so strange. I actually love blueberries, a lot. Weird, huh?"

Now it was Grimmjow's turn to laugh, his deep voice making Ichigo's heart stutter. "Go figure. We know the same people for years, but never cross paths. We run into each other by pure chance not a month before we meet for real. Now we find out we both have a crazy love for berries that match the each other's hair."

His grin was in danger of causing Ichigo to go into cardiac arrest.

"We're practically made for each other."

Oh, why'd he have to go and say that?!

Ichigo's face burned hot, his cheeks stained the same color as his (not real!) namesake.

"Well, I dunno about all that," he muttered, trying not to take the man's words to heart, studiously looking at anything but Grimmjow. "But I guess there have been one too many coincidences in our meeting to just ignore each other, huh?"

"Even if there weren't, how could you ignore little ol' me?" he answered with a sly smirk and wiggle of his blue brows.

Ichigo chuckled, briefly wondering just how many times he had laughed and smiled tonight. Usually he only did those things so often around Nel, and now...Grimmjow seemed to be able to make him do those things too. It was pretty damn nice.

"True, you are pretty hard to ignore. So what do you suggest we do now that fate has forced us berry-lovers together?"

The blunette's smile widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his faintly minty breath tickling Ichigo's nose.

"I suggest we get to know each other better."

And so they did.

For the next two weeks, Ichigo and Grimmjow exchanged text messages and phone calls, learning about each other and their lives.

Ichigo was pleasantly surprised the older man (who he found out was twenty-seven) was showing a genuine interest in his life. It made him feel...wanted. Well, he knew his family loved him and Nel would always have his attention and affections, but with Grimmjow there was a distinct note of sexual attraction, a physical and emotional desire to connect with him. That, strangely enough, kind of freaked Ichigo out.

He hated to admit it, but he had never had a boyfriend. Not that the blue-haired man was that to him, Ichigo blushed just thinking about it, but there was a possibility they could be something together. Which was crazy, because they hadn't even known each other a month yet!

Ichigo sighed quietly to himself. He knew that didn't really matter, he'd instantly felt protective of Nel as soon as he'd held her in his arms, which led to her adoption - a decision that changed both of their lives - after only three months. So this wasn't an issue of time, not really anyway. If he was being honest with himself, he was just...kind of scared.

He knew Grimmjow had to have experience in the relationship department, whether it was random hook-ups or more lasting encounters. How could he not, with a body and attitude like that? He was confident, smart, witty, fucking gorgeous and he could make you laugh and laugh at himself. The man was blunt and unforgiving with his words, but his thoughts and feelings were always genuine. Grimmjow didn't fake anything and Ichigo couldn't help but respect and admire that.

In comparison, he felt...well, lackluster. Beneath him. Inexperienced. Young. Six years wasn't that big of a gap, not in the grand scheme of things, but Ichigo could feel the difference. Grimmjow never pointed it out, and maybe he didn't notice it, but Ichigo sure did.

He'd never been on a date. Never kissed anyone other than family. Never really explored his own body, his hand accustomed to his own equipment, but not much else. All the play he'd ever done had been to satisfy a basic need, he never drew it out and really explored any deeper feelings or pleasure. He had always had something else more important to focus on, someone to provide for. He'd never woken up next to a lover. Never had a lover, a boyfriend, a one-night stand or even a crush before.

But he was crushing on Grimmjow. Hard. So fucking hard, he wanted that man bad and it scared him.

He didn't know how to handle the new emotions and physical urges he felt when he talked to the man; hell, when he thought about him. The unknown was daunting, and he couldn't wrap his mind around how people did this shit every day. Every day someone fell for another person, so why was it so hard for him to handle this right now?

Ichigo shuddered, looking down at the phone that he had been crushing in his hand this whole time.

Now, here he was, sitting on his bed, about to call the man and ask him if he wanted to come over. Ichigo fought the blush that wanted to rise up to his cheeks. He was a man damn it, he could make a simple phone call!

Slender fingers jabbed the buttons hard in his annoyance, quickly dialing the number and trying not to fidget as he waited for the blunette to pick up.

Four rings in, that deep voice answered. "Heyya, Ichigo."

The youth smiled, hearing the grin in the other man's voice. "Hey yourself. What's up?"

"Hm," Grimmjow hummed thoughtfully. "Not a whole lot, just finished working out actually."

Holy crap, Grimmjow working out? All sweaty and probably shirtless and- Damnit, get ahold of yourself!

"What're you doing?"

Ichigo flushed and floundered for a moment, still reeling from the mental image of Grimmjow's muscles flexing under glistening tan skin.

"Uh, nothing at the moment. I actually called to see if, uh, you'd like to, um...come over...sometime?"

Gah, why did he sound so uncertain?! He wanted this, he did!

Grimmjow chuckled. "That your idea of an invitation? Your delivery needs some serious work, Ichi."

The orangette flushed, both at the use of his recent nickname and the way the man had pointed out his less than smooth delivery.

"Yeah, well I'd like to see you do any better. Now do you wanna come over or not?" he asked harsher than he meant to.

Another deep chuckle floated over the line, making Ichigo's heart hum. "Yeah, 'course I do. When and where, kid?"

"Don't call me kid, damn it!"

Really, how many times did he have to tell the man this? He tolerated Kenpachi doing it, but that's where he drew the line. "And how about this afternoon around 4? The address is..."

He gave Grimmjow directions, using Urahara's place as reference since the man knew where that was. When he hung up, he grinned like an idiot and didn't even care.

Grimmjow was really coming over.

"Itsygo?"

The orangette looked away from his window to see a curious Nelliel standing in his doorway.

"Hey, Nel, what's up?"

The small girl hurried over to climb onto his bed, crawling over to sit next to him by the window. She smiled up at him, "Who was that?"

He ruffled her hair, playing with the aqua waves. "That was Grimmjow, that guy I was telling you about. I invited him over for dinner, so you'll finally get to meet him."

"Yay!" Nel squealed, hugging Ichigo around his middle. "Oh, can I show him my drawings, Itsygo? I'm getting better. I bet he likes drawings, 'cause he likes you and you make drawings, right Itsygo?"

"Ah-ha, well..."

When had he said Grimmjow liked him? Surely the man did, at least a little, but why would Nel think that?

When he asked her, she just beamed at him as she always did. "'Cause you're always smiling when you talk to him on the phone and you laugh a lot, so that means you like him. And why would he make you smile if he didn't like you, Itsygo?"

Now he was blushing, again, because of something a five-year-old had pointed out. How could kids be so observant and so innocent and know the simplest, most obvious answers while adults floundered for answers? It was maddening and sometimes quite embarrassing.

Tan arms scooped the girl up, making her giggle as she was lifted off the bed. Ichigo maneuvered down the stairs, headed for the studio, kissing her on the forehead as he went.

"I suppose you're right. And I'm sure Grimmjow will love your drawings, Nel. Why don't we pick out which ones to show him, hm?"

Putting his adoptive daughter down inside the art-filled room, he watched as she hurried over to her drawing corner, babbling excitedly as she riffled through stacks of doodles and illustrations. Smiling, his thoughts traveled between Grimmjow and Nelliel. He hoped they liked each other, because right now he wasn't sure what he'd do if they didn't.

Rock music blared over the radio as Grimmjow relaxed against his leather seat, waiting for the light to turn green. Humming along to the words, his lips twitched into a smirk. He was about five minutes for Ichigo's house and he should have been disgusted with himself for how happy that knowledge made him, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

He had gotten to know the orangette a lot more through their many conversations, and he had to say he admired the kid; who he found out absolutely hated being referred to as such.

Ichigo was six years younger than him, but he didn't really care. That didn't make the fiery-haired knockout any less appealing in his eyes, if the amount of times he had to will away his boner when he thought about the man was anything to go by.

He found out the orangette had been in karate during his childhood, but had quit after his mother died. Ichigo hadn't gone into too much detail about his father or sisters, but he knew they had passed away in some kind of car accident. The youth wasn't ready to really go into it, and Grimmjow wasn't the type to pry into personal shit like that. When Ichigo had mentioned it, he had sympathized and shared the story of his own parents' death. Theirs had been a freak accident as well, though on the other side of the globe, and the blunette had also been a child at the time. Neither man had let it hold them back though, and it seemed to provide them with another common bond they could relate to.

Grimmjow had actually shared a lot of his life story with Ichigo, though he still hadn't gone into his real profession. That wasn't something you blurted out on a first date, which they hadn't even had yet. Maybe once he knew they were both serious he could let the boy in more. He might even talk to Starrk about it, but he wasn't going to worry about that right now.

Right now he was pulling into the driveway, admiring the quaint home Ichigo lived in with his adoptive daughter.

That piece of information had been a bit of a surprise.

After about a week, Ichigo had gotten really nervous on the phone and confessed he hadn't told Grimmjow something very important about him. The blunette had thought maybe he really did have a boyfriend; it seemed too good to be true that this funny, stubborn, hot young man wasn't taken already. When the boy had stuttered out that he had a daughter, Grimmjow had been floored. Fuck, he'd been confused and pissed, practically barking at Ichigo to spill exactly what the fuck he was talking about. After hearing the whole story though, he had felt like an asshole.

How was it possible he was falling for such an amazing guy? He sure as shit wasn't the type to just take in some toddler off the street, and when he was Ichigo's age, he wouldn't have known what the fuck to do with a kid, much less how to make a life for them. But here this kid was, raising another kid, and making it work. It was working damn well from what he could tell, and he couldn't help but smile when he heard Ichigo talk about his little girl, Nel. That name kept nagging at him for some reason though, like he had heard it before and just couldn't remember where.

In the end, he just shook off that feeling, like he was doing now as he stepped out of his Charger and strode up to the front door, knocking twice.

After a few moments, the door opened, but the blunette frowned when he didn't see anyone standing there.

"Blue Man!"

He jumped a little at the bubbly yell, looking down to see a...very familiar sea-foam haired girl pointing at him with a huge grin on her face. Her hair was down this time, but the locks and scar were hard to mistake.

This was the girl with Yachiru at Kenpachi's! Which means Ichigo's the...holy shit!

"Nel, what have I told you about answering the door by yourself when you don't know who-" Ichigo came around a corner, a black smock spattered with paint tied over faded jeans and a red t-shirt. He paused when he locked eyes with the blunette, pink instantly dusting his cheeks. "...it is. H-hey, Grimmjow." He looked back into the room he came out of, frowning slightly before moving over to them. "You're a bit early."

Grimmjow struggled out of his shock at the revelation of who Ichigo was and the words his friend had told him that day, stuffing it all in the back of his mind for now. Kenpachi was totally right, about everything, and there was no way he was telling the kid what had been said about him. The orangette really would flip if he knew Kenpachi thought he was sexy.

Shaking his head, he glanced at his watch, seeing that he was, in fact, about twenty minutes earlier than expected. He grinned from the doorway, "Guess I just couldn't wait to see ya."

That may have been corny, but the hot blush the other man was sporting let Grimmjow know his comment had hit the mark regardless.

Ichigo gestured for the man to step inside, closing the door behind him as he did so. Grimmjow looked around the foyer, taking in the stairs that led to the second floor, a hallway leading deeper into the home and a room off to the left; the one Ichigo had come from.

"Well, um..." Ichigo began, drawing the blunette's attention back to him. "Do you...want something to drink?"

Grimmjow chuckled softly at the youth's uncertainty, finding it unbelievably cute.

"Sure, Ichi, what'cha got?"

Ichigo started to walk back in the direction he had come, Grimmjow falling in step behind him.

"Well, we have water, tea, coffee, orange juice and milk. Any of that sound appealing?"

"Yeah, I'll take a coffee if you don't mind." Grimmjow was led into a kitchen, a dining area set in front of it with a large window that looked out onto the driveway and street. Ichigo moved around the kitchen easily, scooping some coffee grounds into a machine before hitting a few buttons and stepping over to him.

"Sure, no problem. That'll take a couple minutes..." Again, he seemed to be at a loss of what to do. Grimmjow almost growled as he watched the orange-haired boy chew on his plump bottom lip.

Damn, he doesn't even know how sexy he looks right now.

"Relax, Ichigo, you don't have ta entertain me. Just do what you'd normally do, it ain't hard."

Ichigo flushed deeper before shifting slightly from foot to foot. "Ah, sorry, I'm just a little nervous. I don't usually have people over, it's usually just me and Nel, or Urahara and Starrk. I'm just not sure what to do..."

A helpful suggestion came from below. "Ah, I know, I know! Itsygo, can we show Blue Man my pictures?"

Bright wheat-grey eyes looked up at him, a hopeful smile displayed on soft features. "Do you wanna see my drawings, Blue Man?"

Ichigo choked while Grimmjow just laughed, squatting down to ruffle the girl's hair. "Sure kiddo, I'd love ta see your drawings. But my name's Grimmjow, not Blue Man, alright?"

Nel's face scrunched up adorably as she tested out the name. "Grimm-jaw?"

"Heh, close enough kid." Even he had to admit that was cute. It made him wonder if she butchered everyone's name, which would make since why Ichigo was Itsygo. "Now where are these lovely pictures I'm supposed to be seeing?"

The girl squealed in delight before grabbing his hand, startling Grimmjow and Ichigo, and tugged him out of the dining area and down the hallway to a door on the right at the very end.

"In here, in here! This is our studio. Me and Itsygo painted it. It's so pretty!"

Pulling open the sliding door, she jumped inside, spinning back around to grab Grimmjow's hand again and pull him in with her. He heard Ichigo's chuckle behind him, probably amused his little girl was manhandling him like a pro.

The lights were already on, illuminating the open room and the vast array of artwork inside. Grimmjow gasped quietly, looking in awe around the large space that was chock full of paintings, drawings and photographs, all in varying sizes and mediums.

The blunette had a hard time focusing on any one thing; there was so much to take in.

The wall behind and in front of him were a clean white, while a painting decorated the wall on the right and the wall on the left was black and covered in chalk words and drawings. Half-finished paintings and blank canvases rested neatly up against the wall behind him. A large glass desk sat in front of him near the far left corner of the room, a laptop perched on top with an assortment of small toolboxes and sketchpads. To the left of the desk was a wooden structure that reached up to the ceiling and housed more paintings. The wall on the right had a smaller wooden desk with a tiny chair, obviously denoting Nel's workspace. The surface was covered in papers, crayons and markers, little jars full of glitter and cheap paintbrushes sticking out of the mess. That wall had a mural of a tulip field that faded off into a bright blue sky with soft clouds, the flowers a brilliant red.

As amazing as all of this was, though, Grimmjow was drawn to the long wall in front of him.

To the right of the desk were more paintings, all complete and either leaning against the wall or hung nicely. The older man was astounded by the work, stepping closer to examine some of the pieces.

There were three in particular Grimmjow was drawn to. These all seemed to be part of the same series or theme, if Grimmjow had to guess. There was a mythical, fairytale feel to them, each depicting a different type of creature.

One showed the trunk of a huge sakura tree in full bloom, jutting from rich grass with tiny white flowers dotted around its base. Beneath the tree sat a young man dressed in black hakama and a black kosode tied with a white belt, while waraji adored his sock-clad feet. The shawl of pure white fur that rested over the man's shoulders finished his interesting ensemble. His pose was relaxed, back against the tree, one leg stretched out while the other was bent, the knee near his chest. His left arm lay in his lap, his hand clutched loosely around the hilt of a sheathed samurai sword. The man's face was handsome with a hard edge, his tan skin highlighted by the jagged black markings across his brow. Blood red hair was gathered into a high ponytail, the thick locks cascading down broad shoulders. Wine colored eyes gleamed with amusement and challenge as a cocky grin shone back at the viewer.

As if this man wasn't impressive enough on his own, beside him sat a large white baboon creature with a snake for a tail. The baboon's expression was stony, its eyes the same shade as the man's hair, while the snake that rose up behind it had its fangs bared in warning. The man's right hand lay across the creature's back, his fingers tangled gently into thick fur. It was like a man petting his loyal dog, unafraid of its strength and wounding bite, for he was its master. This was a painting of a powerful entity and his monstrous comrade.

Grimmjow's gaze shifted at another painting, this one of a beautiful woman with burnt-orange hair. She was sitting at the edge of a pond, white water lilies floating across its surface, weaving a string of daisies. The braided flowers pooled in her lap before curling around her in smooth twists and turns, making a massive abstract pattern in the small clearing she sat in. A content smile graced her lips, her features mature but youthful, her brown eyes shining with happiness. Her dress was a soft cream color and draped in a traditional Greek style, plain bracelets of gold around her thin wrists. Half of her autumn hair was pulled away from her face in a crown braid, the remaining strands cascading down her back and shoulders gently. Small flecks of light seemed to dance around her, almost like fireflies, but more brilliant in the daytime sun.

The blunette moved on to inspect the picture beside it, again blown away by the detail and uniqueness of the piece. This one was different from the other two, as it depicted a scene that seemed perfectly normal, but something wasn't quite right. And that something was pretty damn huge.

In this piece, the scene was fairly simple. A teenage boy was sitting on the top of a dilapidated brick wall, chucks and bricks missing from its structure and moss covered it in some areas. The boy looked Latino, his short hair dark and curly while his skin was a deep bronze. Tattered and faded blue jeans clung to long legs that dangled over the side of the wall, while a white muscle shirt showed off the boy's sculpted arms and chest. A gold circular pendant hung from his neck and there seemed to be writing on it, though Grimmjow couldn't make it out. The teen's expression was peaceful, only the barest hint of a smile on his lips, while his eyes were completely obscured by his messy bangs. Fluttering around the boy and perched along the wall were all manner of small, colorful birds. Grimmjow could identify robins, blue jays, cardinals and golden finches, but the rest were lost on him. There had to be two or three dozen of the cute creatures.

Now, all that seemed pretty normal. However, the strange and peculiar element to this piece was the youth's arms. They were muscular, true, but they were also definitely not human. From shoulder to fingertips, his right arm was a horrifying black with deep magenta markings. A massive shield protruded from his wrist and curved over his head, the gaping maw of a skull painted onto its face. His left arm was less terrifying, though just as strange. It was bone white with a deadly horn jutting from his shoulder, with more red markings drawn across it. Truly, this boy's arms were frightening to the average viewer, and yet the birds and the boy seemed so unconcerned and…unaware of the physical abnormality of the situation.

Grimmjow was pulled out of his revere by a gentle tug on his jeans. Looking down, he saw Nel pouting up at him, a messy wad of paper in her hand.

"Grimmjaw, don't you wanna see my pictures too?" she asked hopefully.

He grinned down at her, completely missing the smile on Ichigo's face as he sat down in front of her and ruffled her hair. "O' course I do, kid. Why don't ya lay 'em down so we can take a look at them."

Neliel beamed, giggling happily as she quickly placed her drawings on the floor in a series of semi-neat rows, before she plopped down on Grimmjow's lap, looking expectantly over at Ichigo.

"Are you gonna come over here too, Itsygo?"

The orangette smiled softly and nodded, stepping closer so he could sit down beside her and Grimmjow.

The blunette looked over the drawings carefully, trying to discern what each image was. Some of them were easy; obviously the scribbly figure with orange hair was Ichigo and the one with aquamarine hair was Nelliel herself. Some of the other pictures were harder to figure out. There was a lot of color, he'd give the girl that. But she would need years more practice to reach the level Ichigo was at.

"Well?" the little girl asked excitedly, her head turned so she could look up at him, "What do you think, Grimmjaw?"

"Hmmm. They're very nice, kiddo. But, ah," he paused, glancing at Ichigo then looking back to Nel. "I'm not the best picture analyzer. Maybe if you explain all of them to me, I can critique ya better. Whaddaya say?"

To his relief, she nodded and giggled. "Ok! I'll tell you their stories, 'cause Itsygo says every painting has a story. Right, Itsygo?"

The orangette reached over and ruffled the girl's hair, allowing Grimmjow to feel a tantalizing bit of his body heat.

The older man gulped and firmly squashed down his awakening libido. Lord help him, he could not get excited with this little girl in his lap.

"That's right, Nel. Every good painting needs a solid story, idea or feeling behind it. Why don't you start with this one," Ichigo pointed to a drawing in the top left corner of her messy display, "and work your way down?"

Nel beamed and launched into an enthusiastic – if at times unintelligible – explanation of each of her drawings. Grimmjow smiled as he listened, asking questions and commenting occasionally, each time getting a happy response.

He didn't miss the way a certain orangette smiled every time he did.