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Two Sides to Every Coin	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 3000 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 1: FIGHT NIGHT
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...

"Dad, I'm fine," Ichigo said in a bored tone. "I just moved out last week."
"My son is all grown up now! Masakiiiiii! Ichigo doesn't need us anymore!" his father wailed over the phone.
Ichigo began to tune out his old man's loud cries. Shaking his head, he plopped onto his brand new couch. A week ago, Ichigo had finally moved out of the home he had grown up in and into an apartment of his own. He loved his family, he really did, but he hands down refused to spend his college years under the same roof as his ridiculous father. No, thank you. He didn't care if it meant working his fingers down to the very bone. He would. And gladly.
He would miss his sisters, but that could be settled by weekly visits. It wasn't as if he had left the city. He had decided to study at the local university majoring in Radiology. Ichigo knew that in order for him to do well in that field, he needed to be serious about his studies. He snorted, wondering how the hell he would be able to concentrate with all of his noisy friends dropping by without any notice. Fortunately, classes hadn't started yet.
Ichigo looked around the living room in appreciation. It was a decent one-bedroom apartment. All of the floors were hardwood, except for the kitchen and bathroom, where the floors were tiled. He had just finished furnishing the place with the necessary items, thanks to his friends, Rukia and Orihime, who had insisted on throwing Ichigo a house-warming party. He was grateful, to say the least. Although, he could honestly do without Orihime's "snacks". A shudder skittered up his spine as he remembered the dreaded "fish cakes".
"Ichigo?" Ichigo was jarred from his thoughts by his father's voice.
"Ah, yeah, Dad, sorry. What did you say?" Isshin sighed over the line.
"I asked you if you needed anything, Ichigo. Are you ok?"
"Dad, I'm fine," Ichigo growled. "I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow. Tell Karin and Yuzu I said 'hey'."
"Of course, my son! Yuzuuuu! Kaaaariiiiiin! Ichi-"
Ichigo snapped his phone shut and tossed it beside him on the couch. His old man was a lunatic.

"You called for me, sir?"
Calculating brown eyes gazed over steepled fingers at the person before him. Long, dark hair styled in an intricately braided pattern hung over the man's shoulders. He wore all black; from the black, long-sleeved, button-up shirt, black tie, black slacks to the polished black shoes adorned on his feet. He even wore a pair of dark shades to hide his eyes. All that black did nothing to hide the powerful build of the man though. Blind or not, the man was an excellent henchman.
"I did. I have a job for you, Kaname."
"Anything, sir."
"I need a new recruit. Someone to replace Luppi. Can you do this, Kaname?" The man's silky voice inquired.
"Of course, sir."
"Three days, Kaname."
Kaname Tousen nodded and took his leave. Although three days was awfully short to find a replacement recruit, Kaname knew better than to question or contradict his boss. It would be suicidal. He also knew that if he failed, the results would be the same, so he hurried off to begin his mission.
"Maah, that was kinda mean, boss, dontcha think so?"
"He'll do it."
"I believe you Aizen, sir."
Sosuke Aizen glanced in the direction of the voice as he reclined in the plush, leather office chair behind a large, mahogany desk. Gin Ichimaru had been working with Aizen since he was thirteen and still rough around the edges. He remembered when he first met the boy. Fast and as slippery as an eel. Gin had almost made off with Aizen's wallet before he was grabbed and searched. Even under the pressure of Aizen's cool gaze, he hadn't cracked. Aizen found it immensely amusing and definitely intriguing. A mere slip of a boy could withstand the pressure that most adult men would crumble beneath.
It was unbelievable.
"I know, Gin."

"The fuck?" He cursed as his body connected with the thinly carpeted floor.
Shit. He'd fallen asleep on the couch. Again. Electric blue eyes scanned the coffee table before him, noting the abundance of beer bottles. He raked a hand through his bright blue hair and sighed. So, he'd drunk himself into a stupor. Again. Just then, a thunderous banging erupted from his front door.
Scowling, he stood slowly to his feet and shuffled to the door. He realized, a moment before opening it, that all he wore was a pair of gray boxer briefs that was currently losing the battle against restraining his morning wood. He turned, searching the room for a pair of pants, before finally giving up and going to his bedroom.
"OI! Ya dead in there er some shit?"
Grimmjow Jaegerjaques growled under his breath. What the fuck did this guy think he was doing at-he craned his neck to glance at the clock on his night stand-8:30 in the fucking morning? Grimmjow didn't even know the idiot was capable of rising before one in the afternoon. This had better be good or so help him, he'd kick that skinny prick's ass.
Grimmjow shoved his legs into a pair of black lounge pants and stormed towards the front door. He threw it open and glared at the man standing across from him. If looks could kill, this guy would've been six feet under.
"Holy fuck, ya look like shit!" Nnoitra exclaimed, giving his signature sly grin. Grimmjow scoffed.
"Must be contagious then. The fuck you doing here banging on my door at the ass-crack of dawn?"
"Heh, Stark called. He told me to come drag yer sorry carcass outta bed. Ya got an appointment tonight and the bitch needs ya down at the office," Nnoitra said, pushing his way past Grimmjow. Nnoitra stood in the living room assessing the surroundings. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at Grimmjow, who was just closing the door.
"What?" Grimmjow asked defensively. Nnoitra grinned.
"Ya know, this shit would be acceptable if ya at least got laid. Not that I'd recommend bringin' someone in here, but it's the least ya could do."
"Fuck you, you're one to talk," Grimmjow growled and started cleaning the mess from the previous night. Nnoitra cackled.
Grimmjow gathered the empty beer bottles and watched as Nnoitra plopped onto the couch. The man had to be roughly 6'6" because Grimmjow was 6'3". Nnoitra wore a short-sleeved, black t-shirt, slim fitting, black jeans that hung low on his narrow hips and were joined by a black, cloth belt, and black, high-top sneakers of some sort. His shoulder-length, black hair hung in his face on the left side, although he was wearing a black eyepatch. He was rather testy about that left eye of his.
Grimmjow trudged into the small kitchen and discarded the beer bottles. Fuck. He had an appointment tonight. He hated the way Aizen waited until the last minute to tell them about their appointments, but always expected them to excel. Really, Grimmjow shouldn't complain. He was being promoted soon since his last appointment went so well.
Grimmjow grinned wolfishly. He could still remember it quite clearly, even though it had been over a week ago. The adrenaline rush, the smell of sweat and best of all, blood. It was enough to get him going again.
"YO! Ya got anythin' to eat in this craphole?" Nnoitra yelled from his spot on the couch.
Grimmjow almost, ALMOST rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he didn't. Yeah, he didn't do eye-rolling.

Ichigo wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was panting and his heart was racing, trying to force its way through his ribs. He was currently holed up in the bathroom, staring at his panic-stricken reflection. He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face, then buried his face in a thick, gray hand towel.
What the fuck? It had been two years since he last felt this way. Shit. Shit. Shit. The urge had never been as strong as this, and it was making Ichigo freak out. He looked down at his trembling hands and whined softly. Maybe if he just went to sleep, it would calm him down. The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him.
Ichigo stepped out of the bathroom and slowly moved into the living room, where his friends were seated on the couch and love seat. His eyes slid to the TV and immediately turned away from the sight of the two men fiercely boxing. Ichigo cleared his throat to gain their attention. All eyes swiveled in his direction.
"Guys, I'm gonna call it a night. I'm not feeling very well," he said, not meeting any of their gazes.
"Is everything ok, Ichigo?" Orihime asked. Her voice practically oozed with concern. Rukia's brow was furrowed as she chimed in.
"Yeah, you do look a little pale," she stated.
Renji narrowed his eyes at Ichigo and scowled slightly. Did he know Ichigo was lying to them? Chad, Uryu and Shinji also watched him intensely. Ichigo shifted nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.
"No, I'm pretty sure it's nothing too serious. I just need some rest, that's all," Ichigo said, laughing uncomfortably.
Shinji sighed dramatically. This broke the incredibly thick tension that seemed to overwhelm the small group. Orihime giggled and they all began to gather their belongings.
"You're really ok, right?" Renji asked, making Ichigo jump. Renji frowned.
"Yeah, pineapple head, I just need some rest. I can't do that with you here giving me the third degree, now can I?" Ichigo teased. Maybe if he returned to his normal behavior, Renji would back off.
"Whatever, bastard," Renji grumbled, but he was smiling when he said it.
Rukia approached Ichigo and smiled. Ichigo never felt nervous around her, even though Uryu had found it entertaining to tell Ichigo that Rukia had a crush on him, and had for a while. Ichigo knew he didn't feel that way about her, but he did value her as a good friend.
"If you need anything, Ichigo, feel free to call me," she said. Ichigo nodded.
"Ok, but I'm fine, really," he insisted. Rukia rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Riiiiight. Ichigo, you could be on your death bed and still say the same thing."
"She has a point," Shinji agreed. Ichigo smiled. They were right.
"Maybe, but I'm fine. Now get outta my house before I kick you all out by force," he chided.
"How rude, Ichigo," Uryu said, disdainfully.
Ichigo just grinned and watched as his friends trooped out one after the other. Once they were gone, Ichigo went about cleaning and shutting things off. Especially the TV. He had a feeling that was where his problem had stemmed from.
They'd been watching boxing when, all of a sudden, Ichigo became incredibly hot, like his very skin and blood were on fire. His palms started to sweat and an itch started deep in his muscles, making him extremely restless. Ichigo almost vaulted out of his seat in his rush to make it to the bathroom. Once the door was closed and locked, he pressed his back against it, shaking uncontrollably.
He had wanted to fight. No. He had NEEDED to fight. Ichigo never usually had urges that strong, even when they used to occur every now and then at Seireitei. Fuck. This was no different, he was just overly stimulated since the last time he felt this urge had been two years ago.
Ok, deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He could do this. This was a piece of cake compared to his middle school days.
Ichigo showered and dressed in a fresh pair of pajama pants decorated with smiley faces, before slipping into bed with a loud sigh. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

Blood crept down the right side of his face from the cut above his eyebrow. He didn't mind. It was strangely comforting. Made him feel alive. Like he had a purpose.
His opponent lay on the ground before him, unable to move due to his broken left knee. Grimmjow's mouth spread into his trademark cheshire cat grin, showing off abnormally sharp canines. His taped and bandaged fists and heels were covered in blood that wasn't his own. Even his loose, black, drawstring pants hadn't survived the ordeal unscathed.
Grimmjow looked around and observed the crowd. The arena they were gathered in was teeming with overzealous men and women, thirsty for blood. The cheers were deafening. The fighting area consisted of a cement floor in a circular shape surrounded by a thick, metal railing-the only thing keeping the crowd away from the fighters. He turned back to his opponent, who, at the moment, was using the railing to try to climb to his right leg.
Grimmjow's grin spread to epic proportions, showing off a mouthful of pearly white teeth. Grimmjow swept the man off of his foot and laughed sharply when the man-Kenji?-hit his head and promptly passed out. What the fuck was Ulquiorra thinking matching him up with this nobody?
Grimmjow glanced above the crowd at the raised platform where Ulquiorra stood, watching with his wide, emotionless green eyes. His inky black, shoulder-length hair made his skin seem like it was glowing. The black suit, emerald-green dress shirt, and black tie didn't really help matters at all. Ulquiorra gave Grimmjow the creeps. He hated that little fucker. Almost as much as he hated Aizen.
Ulquiorra nodded, and swiftly disappeared through the double doors marking the exit. That meant Grimmjow's job or "appointment" was officially over. He could go home now and sleep. Grimmjow stepped over Kenji's immobile body and made his way towards the stairs leading to the Espada spectator platform. Grimmjow looked over his shoulder and watched as Kenji's supporters carried him from the arena. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was still the Sexta Espada.

"I'm free. The idiot finally wore himself out trying to keep me inside. Che."
He left the bedroom and stepped into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he grinned maniacally as he touched the reflection in the mirror. It was his turn now.
Slipping into a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers left by the front door, he left the house and started down the street.
Hmm, what to do, what to do?
He hated being bottled up inside of Ichigo. Ever since the brat left Seireitei, he had no outlet for his deep-seated anger. He was just kept locked away tightly with nothing to do. Now things were different. Somehow, his influence finally managed to take control of Ichigo's body. Like hell he was gonna let this go to waste.
"Haha, look at this fruit cup with the smiley face pants. Hey princess, where ya headed?" A voice called out from behind him. His face lit up. Trouble? A fight? Yesss!
"Don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, but if it's a fight ya want, I'm all for it," he said, grin splitting his face.
The men exchanged glances and scowled. Well, what the hell had they been expecting?
"That's some dangerous talk, pretty boy," one of the men stated.
"Ain't jus' talk. Come an' see for yerself."
The two men were burly and obviously called themselves tough. Ha! Tough rocks tonight, then. He'd been virtually itching for a fight, and here these two idiots were serving themselves up on a silver platter. Perfect.
One of the idiots rushed at him, flicking out a switchblade as the man neared. He smirked. Absolutely fucking perfect.
The two muscleheads were laid flat on their backs as he stepped over them and cursed. Ichigo was definitely going to notice the cuts on his knuckles and arms from that stupid switchblade. Shit. Oh well. He had fun anyway.
He made his way back to the apartment, never even noticing the two men across the street watching him.
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Two Sides to Every Coin