WARNINGS: AU, Yaoi, Language, Sexual innuendo (and maybe eventually sexual acts, I don't quite know yet), Mild violence, OOC

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Bleach or its characters, because they all belong to the wonderful Tite Kubo and I am just another deranged fan. *sigh* I only own this story, but I'm crediting whoever came up with the list of 64 themes on livejournal, because I'm using the prompts to guide me along the story.

CHAPTER 1: 2 AM, Metaphors, and Skies

The summer air is muggy and warm on Grimmjow's skin as he makes his way down the street. Dim circles of light illuminate the streets only to show that he's the only one out and about in this sleeping town at this time of the night. Pulling his damp t-shirt apart from his skin, he curses his damn jetlag. If it were up to him, he would be sleeping too but things came up and he decided to push his move to Karakura a few weeks earlier.

Which meant the only plane he could catch was one that landed at some ungodly hour of the night, and the work done to his apartment wasn't anywhere near completed. Not that Grimmjow minded toughing it out for a few weeks or so but he chose to arrive right during the worst heat wave Karakura's had in years and his apartment has no air-conditioning as of now.

So two hours of tossing and turning later, Grimmjow began his quest to find some booze and work himself into an alcohol-induced nap.

One would think that he would be more familiar with the layout of his hometown, but twenty years can change a lot. Everything that he thought he remembered is no longer there. Grimmjow had been roaming the streets for about half an hour now when he finally stumbled upon a small bar. "Katen Kyokotsu." The lights coming from the windows were as hazy as candlelights- was this place even open?

A bell rang over his head as the man pushed open the door to the local establishment. It looked bigger on the inside than it did on the outside; half-restaurant, half-bar, entirely cozy. Peeking around, Grimmjow could see it was pretty empty- just a couple of inebriated middle aged men left loitering at the bar area and what appeared to be a bartender behind the counter.

Grimmjow hopped up on one of the tall stools by the bar, wondering when the bartender would notice him. All he could see of the guy was his back and a head of flaming orange hair. The bartender was completely off in his own world, wiping down glasses with a cloth until they were squeaky clean.

No, really, Grimmjow could hear the weird squeaky noises from across the counter. What kind of glasses needed that kind of hardcore scrubbing, anyway? Was he trying to rub a hole in there or something?

Clearing his throat, Grimmjow nodded. "'Sup."

The guy almost dropped his shiny glasses before turning around. His wide brown eyes reveal how surprised he was to be caught off guard. "Oh, whoa. I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you were waiting."

Grimmjow grinned, "No worries. I could tell you were working on something real important."

The bartender smirked, "Yeah, sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to come in so I started to clean up early." He set down his cloth and glasses to lean over the counter. "So, what can I get for you?"

"Ah," Grimmjow scratched the back of his neck, "Scotch? Yeah, scotch on the rocks."

"Comin' right up."

Tinkling sounds of ice and pouring liquid filled the silence. The blue-haired customer drummed his fingers against the counter top with his head resting on his palm while his eyes watched the bartender. He smirked. 'Here lies the bartender, in his natural environment. Watch as he moves through his territory.'

He wasn't very tall for a male, only reaching up to about Grimmjow's mouth, but he was toned and muscular in a subtle way that shouted, "Hey, I don't live at the gym but I could still kick ass if I wanted to, 'kay?" His spiky hair made it look like his head was set on fire, and Grimmjow meant that in the best way possible. His face was all soft angles. The bartender turned around to grab something and Grimmjow caught a glint of whisky colored eyes.

Grimmjow grinned. He had a thing for brown eyes and gingers and it was the last thing he was expecting to be able to find someone so completely his type in this place.

He had no doubt the orange-haired male was younger than him, at least by a few years. He himself was twenty-six so the other guy was probably, what, twenty-three? Twenty-two? If he was any older than that, he sure carried his age well. The kid looked like he could still be in high school. Nah, he was definitely over twenty-one if he was working at a bar. Grimmjow usually went for guys closer to his age but he was willing to make an exception for the cutie.

A cold glass slid over to rest at his hand where Grimmjow caught hold of it. He lifted it up to his forehead and rested it there, sighing when the glass made contact with his skin. The cool touch was heaven in this sweltering heat.

"God, it is hot around here."

The bartender grinned, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"That," Grimmjow smirked, "is not entirely true. I was born here and then moved a long time ago, but I'm back for good this time. Was it that obvious?"

He shrugged. "Hey, anyone from around here knows that the summer heat doesn't lift until late August. I mean, yeah, this is worse than usual, but not by much. I figure we still have about two weeks left before it starts to cool."

Grimmjow cursed, "I'll already be starting work by then! Ah, damn, it's gonna be a bitch and a half to work in this heat if they don't have air-conditioning."

Brown eyes glinted with mischief. "It's not so bad. I manage alright, don't I? You'll get used to it soon enough."

The blue-haired man sighed and chugged down his drink.

"So. You said you're moving here?"

"Yup."

"Where from?"

Grimmjow set down his glass and swirled the ice around. "Las Noches."

The orange-head raised his eyebrows and whistled. "Big city. What could make you return to a small town like this?"

"Small towns have their charm," Grimmjow said, shooting a grin at the bartender. "Besides, I have family and roots here."

"I see... you must be close to them if you're willing to drop your whole life to come back for them." The ginger asked while refilling the now empty glass.

He shrugged. "Not really. I haven't seen much of them since I moved but there wasn't much for me in Las Noches at my anyway. My coworkers were turds so it made my job less than desirable and most of my closest friends moved out of the city so it's not like I have anyone to miss."

"No girlfriend?"

"Nope," Grimmjow downed the drink again. "My last girlfriend broke up with me a year ago and I broke up with my last boyfriend over six months ago."

"Boyfri- oh." Brown eyes widened and darted around awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"Nah, I'm not offended. Unless you have a problem with it?" Grimmjow glared at him. "Do you?"

"No! No, of course not!" The orange-head shook his head, "No, I don't judge or anything. I mean, not that there's anything to judge, right? Freedom to love and all that? It's your right to be with whoever you want, no, no one here minds that kind of stuff!" His face turned red and he abruptly shut up, refilling the glass like a robot.

Grimmjow had propped his chin up with his elbow on the counter as the other man was babbling on. He could tell he was making the bartender flustered and terribly embarrassed. He didn't care, he liked getting people worked up. At the very least, it was funny and at it's very best, it was adorable.

"Calm down, I was just messing with you," he chuckled. "I don't care if you or anyone else minds, it's my own business."

"You make it a habit to irritate people handling your food and drinks?"

"Only when they're interesting enough to be worth it. And hey, the customer is always right, so check that attitude of yours, 'kay?"

The ginger glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was in the company of an asshole."

"Yep. A handsome, charming asshole. Careful," Grimmjow winked, "or you might just fall for me."

He scoffed. "I don't think we're in any danger there." He refilled the empty glass.

Grimmjow chewed on an ice cube as he eyed the bartender. He could feel the effects of the alcohol kicking in now. "Ginger, are you always this cranky or is it just that time of the month?"

"Don't call me that."

"What? A woman or Ginger? What else am I supposed to call you? I don't even know your name yet."

"I don't care. Don't call me Ginger."

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow. "Does it bring up bad childhood memories or something?"

The bartender scoffed. "No, I just don't like people singling me out for my hair."

"Ah, I can sympathize with that." Grimmjow nodded. "People always thinking you're some delinquent punk, always trying to pick a fight with you. Jesus fucking Christ, don't even get me started on the ignorance of school dress codes."

"You know, I've been wondering," he paused for a second, the bottle of scotch frozen over Grimmjow's glass. "Is your hair really natural?"

The blue-haired man grinned like a shark at the other man. "Wanna find out?"

He rolled his eyes. "Tempting as that offer sounds, no thanks. I make it a point not to get involved with anyone I meet at work. Trust me, it's just a bad idea."

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, silently prompting the other man to continue.

Ginger sighed. "Okay, look. Those who come in alone have their own story, their own set of problems. All they want is to drown out their sorrows in alcohol and drink until they forget. I get that. They're desperate for someone to pay attention to them without judging them and the bartender makes for a convenient and free psychologist. I can lend them an ear, but that's all I'm doing for them. Anything else and I would be better suited for a whole other profession, you know what I mean?"

The words were said so matter-of-factly that it made Grimmjow feel a little guilty for the way he was coming onto the guy. "Yeah, sorry."

Ginger shrugged. "It's okay, you're not as bad as some of the others."

"If it's all so bad, why are you still working here? Why don't you just quit?" The bartender looked way too young to be stuck in a dead-end job.

"No, it's not that simple, and the job really isn't as bad as I'm making it sound. It's just been a long day and I'm getting pissy," he rolled his brown eyes. "The pay is good and my coworkers are cool. My boss is great, an old friend of the family actually, so there's not much more that I can ask for."

"Huh... I can't say I understand but it's your life so who am I to tell you how to live it?"

"Thanks. You'll be surprised how many people don't understand that line of logic." He eyed the empty glass on the counter. "No offense, but if that's all you'll be having, I'm going to close shop soon."

"Aw, come on. That's low, you're just blackmailing me now."

"Hey, business is business." The bartender smirked. "Besides, I'm not kidding. We usually close after 2AM. The only reason we're still open is because Komamura, Iba, and Omaeda over there are regulars and friends with my boss." Grimmjow turned around to see three men in various states of inebriation slumped over a table. "Once the three of them get to the point where they can't stand, that's when we close."

Grimmjow sighed. "Alright, fine. Fill 'er up again. And what have you got in the way of beer? Corona?"

"Coming right up."

"Swindler."

"Call it what you want," Ginger said as he slid an opened glass bottle at Grimmjow.

Blue eyes glared at the smug ginger as he took a gulp of the beer. "And I am the asshole here?"

"Yup." He grinned and leaned over the counter. "I am but a mere smartass."

Grimmjow smirked, "Ain't that the truth. It's a good thing you're cute because that smartass-attitude is not going to do you any favors."

The bartender blanched. "Oh, hell no, you did not just call me cute."

"What's so bad about cute? It's a compliment!" Grimmjow defended himself. Honestly, he was a little more surprised that the other man wasn't more offended at the blatant flirting, but rather offended by the word choice. He honestly was going to stop flirting with Ginger but the words just spilled out before he even realized what he was saying.

"Yeah, if you're a girl!" He crossed his arms and scowled. "Using 'cute' to describe a guy is just creepy and insulting."

"Fine, fine," the blue-haired man rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing you're hot, because once you open your mouth, you go from being attractive to annoying."

The bartender pondered the new phrasing. "Not great, but it's an improvement."

Grimmjow drank the rest of the scotch with a wide grin and leaned in towards the other male. "Hey. What's that poem? The English one that goes, 'Shall I compare you to a summer day?' And then something about the summer being more lovely or shit? 'Cause that poem fits you like a glove."

To his surprise, the other man laughed. "Man, you got that all wrong. The poem goes:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date."

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed."

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st."

"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Ginger shook his head fondly and snorted. "It's a love poem! Not a poem to insult someone. He's telling his loved one that he's lovelier than summer itself. And unlike the changing seasons, his love's beauty is constant, because as long as his affection for his love doesn't die, neither will the beauty of his love."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, "Relax, it was a metaphor. I was close enough."

"Yeah, right." He crossed his arms and leaned over the counter with the hugest smirk on his face. "It's William Shakespeare's 18th sonnet. I can't believe there are people out there who actually don't know this poem."

"Excuse me for not bein' a nerd," the blue-haired man drank his scotch- refilled while he wasn't looking- with a scowl, thoroughly chagrined. He was usually a lot smoother than this. He couldn't be losing his touch. It was the alcohol messing with his brain. Yup. Had to be. "Wait, you said 'he's lovelier than summer itself'? Shakespeare was gay?"

"Bisexual, probably. He had a wife."

"Huh. Whaddaya know." Grimmjow set down the glass with a happy sigh. "Yer hot, summer's hot, it all works out."

He cracked up. "Oh, God. Are you drunk already?"

"Not drunk enough, if you ask me."

"Really? And how drunk are you aiming to be?"

Grimmjow thought about it. "I 'unno. At first I just wanted to have enough so that I would be sleepy enough to pass out. Now I don't feel like doin' that anymore," then he grinned, "unless you want to join me?"

"Damn, how many of those did I give you?"

"Enough for me to want to take you home."

"Yeah, okay. I think that's enough for one day," the bartender pulled the glass and bottle away from Grimmjow. "I don't want to be the one to tell the cops in the morning that I was responsible for your drunk ass drowning in the river or something equally stupid."

"My ass is beautiful!"

"Yes, yes, is there someone I can call to pick you up? We're closing now. For real this time."

"You can pick me up all day, 'erry day."

"Wow, that was lame," Ginger chuckled. "Even by your standards."

"I 'unno what yer talkin' about," Grimmjow slurred.

The bartender smirked as he led the tipsy man out the door. "Sorry, but I think I'm a little too young for you."

Blue eyes squinted at the orange fringed face that was getting blurrier. "Aw, c'mon. What are ya, like twenty two?" He leaned his weight into the shorter male, thoroughly taking advantage of their positioning to get closer to him. Grimmjow eyed his face. Freckles here across the bridge of the nose and smooth tan skin everywhere else, but no wrinkles or anything.

"Yeah, sure."

"Ginger, age is just a number. Ya can't be afraid to try new things! That's life. Be spontaneous. Carpe diem or some shit. Ya know? Seize the sky!"

Ah, the sky. It was so clear and purpley black with a smattering of stars stretched across it, which danced in his vision. He really missed seeing this. There was nothing like this in Las Noches.

"Wow, look at you. First it's Shakespeare and now it's Latin. You sure know how to turn on the charm," he teased.

"I told you so. Smart and handsome! I'll treat ya real nice." Grimmjow said as he was directed into a cab. Huh? When did that get there?

"Uh huh." Ginger pushed him into the backseat. "Where do you live?"

Grimmjow chuckled as Ginger shoved him in. "You like to be in charge, huh? 606 Hueco Mundo Boulevard, corner of Arrancar Avenue. Les' go, I'll letcha man-handle me all ya want."

"No, you moron," Ginger snapped with a rosy flush. "The cab driver needs to know!" He was about to pull away when Grimmjow tugged him down by his neck and their lips met.

Grimmjow sighed into the kiss as he pulled the other male down to the backseat with him. He sucked on the other man's bottom lip and wrapped his arms around his neck until their chests were touching. "Mmmm."

It was warm and soft and pleasant, like the buzz in his head.

That was the last thing he remembered before completely blacking out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think I got this list of 64 prompts from livejournal (and I say "I think" because it happened so long ago). Anyhow, I've been keeping around these lists of prompts for a while and didn't have anything reason to use it so I decided to combine a plot bunny of mine with the 64 themes/prompts list to spur the direction of the story.

I really should be finishing all the other stories but... this one somehow wrote itself. Maybe it's the prompts, but this one is so much easier to write.