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Diary of a Grown Ass Man	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 1651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
CHAPTER 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
June 22nd, 2011
Thursday
7:44 pm
I'm confused as fuck.
I can't fucking sit still and my skin feels like it's crawling off my flesh. My blood is boiling and my muscles won't stop jerking, which makes writing this really hard. My right eyebrow has a constant twitch and even now, glancing across the room at...him...makes me wanna do unspeakable things.
Things I would never think of in the first place.
Things that make me nauseous, but disgustingly...curious.
Fuck.
I know you're fucking confused and I swear I'll get to explaining things. Just...gimme a minute to gather the balls to do it.
OK.
You're never gonna fucking believe what happened to me since the last time I wrote in this fucking journal.
(Takes deep breath)
Yeah, so the last time we talked, I remember being all excited about seeing the orange-haired guy, Ichigo, so we could fight and have a manly one-on-one. When I think back on it, I realize it was all crap, a facade, a weak excuse for a joke. I don't even know why or how I didn't see this shit from the beginning. How I let it slam into me with all the weight of a five foot nine, 156 pound red head.
So, I know you're pissed and like get to the fucking point already, but if you were in my shoes (which a week ago, I thought were very normal) you wouldn't be in a hurry to thoroughly humiliate yourself either.
But, whatever...fuck it.
Here goes nothing.
So, after that day when Ichigo was absent from class, amazingly, I see the fucking guy across the street from this little store that Gin frequents all the time. At first, I was shocked, you know? Like, what are the odds? But anyway, I spot him and immediately get all excited at the prospect of another fight (snorts). Cross the street and greet him. He gets all pissed and I like it. His anger really does something to me. His copper eyes get all hot and steamy, his perfect orange brows scrunch together and his full lips...
Ah, shit...
Yeah, so, he gets pissed and I end up following him to his car, intent on getting him to fight me. He says something irrelevant and finally, I pop the big question.
Ichigo...will you fight me?
He's all confused and whatnot, but I can see – once he gets used to the idea – that it intrigues and excites him, just as much as it does me. He's mine. We're SO gonna fight. He gives me this smile that knocks me completely off balance as he gives his assent. I'm still reeling from the wide, happy grin and the way his sable brown eyes crinkle in the corners, while I absently give him my number, so he can call and we can set a date for our fighting nuptials.
Then, he fucking blows me away AGAIN, when he saves my number under my name...accurately spelled and all. Either Ichigo is a genius, or he's seen my name somewhere before. I don't know and frankly, I really don't give a shit. Knowing the guy even remembers my name without me having told him directly is still making my gut slither around uncomfortably.
I do something utterly dumb and girly.
I smile and leave. As I'm leaving, I wave, still fucking smiling idiotically and I use his name.
The look I spotted before I got too far away was priceless and against my better judgment, worth the momentary lapse in my manhood. I should've pounded Ichigo on the back or...something...but, no. I WAVED.
(cringe)
I feel like such a bitch.
Luckily, I've got time to get over that, since class isn't on my agenda for the night. Hueco Mundo is opening earlier than usual for a special event and I've gotta be there to DJ. I meet Gin at his apartment and from there we go set up.
I won't bore you with the rest of that evening, since nothing really happened.
The next day, I went to class and Ichigo and me kept our distance, but I felt something strange. Something that had me on edge and particularly fidgety. Every few minutes, I felt eyes picking me apart. Dissecting me. Almost molesting me.
I know.
You're probably saying, Grimmjow, that's a lot of shit to get out of a few measly stares and you know what? Normally, you'd be correct. Except the person doing the staring was Ichigo, therefore the stares and looks held much more weight, much more potency.
I was stupid.
I didn't understand what the hell was going on.
I thought Ichigo was just analyzing me, you know? The way someone takes in their future opponent.
(sighs)
My idiocy knew no bounds.
That was clue numero fucking uno.
The looks.
After class, we went our separate ways; I left him alone and he left me alone.
Day after that, Saturday morning to be precise, my cell phone wakes me with a rousing chorus of "Now if she does it like this, will you do it like that? Now if she touches like this, will you touch her right back? Now if she moves like this, will you move like that? C'mon! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it!"
The shit was turned up loud as it could go, from the previous night and I had forgotten to turn the fucking thing back down to human levels. The damned thing scared me so bad, I rolled right outta bed and landed on the floor, eyes wild, wondering who the fuck, what the fuck and why the fuck, all at the same time.
Finally, I realized that it was my cell and I had an unknown phone call. That ring tone only goes off when I don't know the number. I crawl to my night stand and reach for the ringing device, grumbling hair-raising obscenities at whoever dared to call me before the kami even had a chance to wake.
I glare at the readout, confirming what I already knew. I don't recognize the number. I tap the connect button on the screen and answer with a gruff, "Yo," knowing my voice sounds like shit.
There's a hesitant pause, a deep breath and I'm jerked to life by Ichigo's voice. "Grimmjow?" he asks uncertainly.
Well, who the hell else did he expect to answer MY fucking phone?
"Ichigo, is there a reason yer callin' me..." I glance at the clock and my eyes widen disbelievingly. "5:45 in the fuckin' mornin'? Are ya fuckin' shittin' me, fruit boy?" I holler, my throat raspy and struggling to accommodate my anger.
There's a taut silence before his laughter strokes my back in a comforting manner, "Not a morning person, huh, Grimmjow?" and I swear I can hear teasing.
"Look, ya orange-haired piece of fish food! Ya don't call this number 'til AFTER the roosters do their thing, yeah?" I growl, blood simmering at the audacity of Ichigo and his teasing.
"Bwahaha! Meet me at Urahara Dojo in a half."
The line is dead. The connection severed.
I am in awe.
This is the first time anyone has dared to hang up on me AND order me about, all at once.
I'm confused and not quite sure what to do for the first few seconds. Then, like a fool, a wide, shit-eating grin is gracing my features and I'm climbing to my feet, thoughts of beating Ichigo into a fine powder, putting an animated spring in my step as I go about finding suitable clothing.
My morning has purpose, even if it is at an ungodly hour.
XxxxxxX
Once I'm dressed in a white, sleeveless tee and black basketball shorts, I realize belatedly that I have no idea where this Urahara Dojo is. Is it in Karakura?
Sighing in frustration, I dig in my shorts pocket for my cell and pull up the recent calls log. Ichigo's number is the only one I don't recognize, so I connect the call and wait for the orange-haired shit to answer.
It takes three rings.
"Where the fuck is this dojo?" I grouse as soon as he answers.
I can hear the twerp's grin when he responds, "Three blocks from Karakura Elementary."
I blow out an aggravated breath and disconnect the call. No decency from me; it's too fucking early for that shit.
Why did I know this stupid dojo would be in Hicksville, Karakura?
I lumber out to my car that's parked in the three-car garage. My dad is there washing his BMW, wearing a green t-shirt and black, cut-off sweats and he's looking at me as if he's seen a ghost. His light brown hair is askew, he's sporting a five o'clock shadow and his blazing blue eyes are wide with shock.
"What the hell are you doing outta bed at this hour?" he asks incredulously, rubbing salt in my sleep-deprived wound.
Did I mention I had come home from Hueco Mundo at four in the morning? Meaning I'd only been asleep for an hour and forty-five minutes before receiving Ichigo's wake-up call.
Hence the grinch attitude.
I grunted and growled at my dad, who only laughed and adjusted his wire-framed glasses before going back to washing his most prized possession. I took my time climbing into my car, adjusting the rear view mirror and starting the engine. I missed my Camaro that stupid fucking Cirucci totaled and turned into a useless hunk of scrap metal. I missed the growl of the engine and the awakening of over four hundred wild stallions.
Now, I'm forced to drive a temporary vehicle until my insurance decides to kick in.
Whatever.
I peel out of the drive and chuckle under my breath at my dad's furious yelling about speeding and obeying traffic laws...yeah right.
The sun is peeking over the horizon, obviously not in the mood to be up just yet, either, but realizing that someone has to do the job. It takes me an hour to get to Karakura from my home and once I enter the disconcertingly quiet town, I get stuck at a traffic light. I have time to go over the situation looming ahead of me.
I've made it crystal-clear that I wanna fight Ichigo. I wanna pummel him and turn him into a limp noodle. It's also crystal-clear that Ichigo wants to fight me just as badly. He even called me at the ass-crack of dawn to do so.
A horn blares behind me and jerks me out of my thoughts.
Fuck, I'm going.
Finally, I pass the school and drive three blocks. Sure enough, there's a store-front establishment sporting a black and white sign that advertises Urahara Dojo to my right. I find a parking space and grab the duffel bag I packed from the back seat of my car and head to the doors. They're made of glass, but the glass is tinted, preventing me from seeing inside.
They're also locked.
Can someone say deja fucking vu?
I'm just about to growl and stomp away when the doors are pushed open and a blond head is poked through. "Ah, Grimmjow-san?" the blond man asks, dark eyes sharp, but devilish.
I frown, unsure of who this person is and unwilling to give away my identity to a complete stranger. I shift my stance, refusing to budge and then I hear it. "Urahara, is it him?"
Ichigo.
I shove past the blond, almost knocking him on his ass and go straight for the orange-haired idiot behind him. Somehow it seems as though Ichigo is expecting that sort of action and we struggle some, until my bag puts me at a disadvantage and I'm pressed against the wall near the doors.
Ichigo is wearing a mile-wide grin, his ginger-snap eyes are mischievous and more alive than I've ever seen them. He's wearing a black wife beater and gray basketball shorts. He smells like orange juice and soap.
I shove him away before something disastrous happens.
I'm sure you know what I mean.
What can I say? I'm excited and sometimes that crosses into the territory of arousal.
Ichigo stumbles back a bit, regains his balance, but just stands there eyeing me silently. I shift under his gaze, feeling a little like a specimen under a microscope before I shrug my bag from my shoulder. Now, I'm free to move around like I want. Ichigo watches my every move like a hawk and I get growly with impatience.
What the hell? Are we gonna fight or stare at each other all day?
I voice this question.
Ichigo's smile widens.
"What are you waiting for?" he asks.
"Ah, well, Kurosaki-san, I'll be in my office if you need anything," the blond man that opened the door interrupted, a paper fan blocking the lower half of his face.
Ichigo nods and the man disappears through a door at the far end of the wide, mirrored room.
My grin is so smug, I'm sure he can taste it. No words are needed as I remove my flip flops and lunge at him. We hit the padded floor in a messy tangle of limbs, grunting and scowling. My blood is singing and my skin is on fire.
I love this shit.
Then, something unexpected happens. I could have sworn I had Ichigo trapped underneath me, but suddenly, I'm rolled onto my back and pressed into the floor, unable to move an inch. I don't understand this at all. Ichigo isn't stronger than me. I know that for a fact.
So, why the hell can't I move?
Ichigo is above me, his hands splayed across my chest, his legs straddling my hips and a devious smirk curving his lips.
He's positively gorgeous.
I realize that's why I'm suddenly paralyzed. It has nothing to with abnormal strength from Ichigo, or my lack thereof. It has everything to do with me being enamored and mesmerized by a pair of molten honey-brown eyes.
Clue numero fucking dos.
I shake my head vigorously and my strength returns, my motor functions kick in again. I shove the smaller man off me with an exaggerated amount of force, making him hit the floor pretty hard. He rolls onto his feet nimbly, though, graceful as a ballerina.
I scowl and jump to my feet, shifting into a fighting stance that comes almost second-nature to me. Ichigo imitates me and watches for all of two seconds before he leaps at me, quick as a cobra. I'm kind of caught off guard by his speed, but I don't let it throw me off completely. Too bad, Ichigo anticipates that and lands a gut-wrenching kick to my unprotected abdomen.
Holy shit.
Only the will of the kami keeps me on my feet as I clutch my mid-section and stumble to the side, trying desperately to catch my breath. Ichigo is relentless. He comes at me full of piss and vinegar again, but this time I block his leg.
I grab it around the calf and pull upwards. He stumbles and loses his balance, which I take full advantage of. I sweep his other foot from under him and as he's going down, I land a heavy uppercut to his chin.
His head snaps back and he flies through the air, landing on his back with a satisfying "whump". I'm ecstatic. My gut burns and aches, but my opponent is on his back, unmoving and I swear I feel like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic, shouting "I'm the king of the world!".
Ichigo's leg twitches and my eyes widen in sheer disbelief.
Impossible.
He should be out cold.
His leg twitches again, this time actually sliding into movement as it bends at the knee. He throws an arm over his face as he groans and tries to sit up. The first two attempts are unsuccessful, but on the third, he's upright and giving me a spectacular "not going down that easily" glare. Blood is trickling from the right corner of his mouth.
It doesn't even faze him.
Ichigo slowly but surely climbs to his feet, swaying slightly before he's completely still and watching me like a lion watching a gazelle.
This shit fucking infuriates me. Ichigo has no right to be on his feet after a hit like that. Boxers didn't even manage to stay on their feet after a direct hit to the chin.
What the hell IS this guy?
Anger propels my actions as I leap blindly at the red head. I swing. Wide right hook. Ichigo dodges, a grin splitting his face in two. I snarl and lunge again, this time throwing out a left hook. Again he dodges.
FUCK!
He's slippery as an eel and just as fast and it's pissing me the fuck off. I feel like I'm swatting at an annoying ass fly that just doesn't know when to quit. Ichigo laughs and it notches my fury up into the red zone.
I can't believe the little shit is laughing at me.
"C'mon, Grimmjow! Can't you hit me?" he taunts, weaving his head expertly.
I'm a snarling, raging animal, a beast let out of the cage, swinging madly and hitting nothing but air. My mom and dad have told me that I've got no patience and a short fuse. I'm finding that to be irrevocably true and I hate it.
Ichigo has managed to wriggle under my skin quite successfully and it grinds my fucking gears. (Haha, I love that show, so sue me)
Anyway.
"Fuck you, ya little asswipe! Stop fuckin' runnin', so I c'n tear ya a new one!" I rage.
And Ichigo finds it very hilarious.
His deep laughter echoes throughout the otherwise silent room. "Ya gotta catch me first, Grimm-jow," he sings, dancing on the balls of his feet.
Why the hell does this prick have so much fucking energy after a hit to the chin? It's like that hit didn't even affect him in the slightest.
Oh, kami, I'm angry. I'm so fucking angry, all I can see is red splotches dancing across my vision and all I can hear is his mocking laughter and my heavy pants. Christ. What's he done to me?
I leap forward again, not even sure of where I'm aiming and next thing I know, I'm going down hard from a blow to the chest. I land on my back, the air knocked clean from my lungs, aided by the kick to my chest and the abrupt meeting with the floor.
I'm pissed and helpless to move because Ichigo is on top of me again. He has my wrists pinned to the sides of my head and the look he's giving me curls my toes. I'm softly gasping for much needed oxygen, trying to convince my lungs that the world hasn't given up on them yet as I glare murderously up at the red headed, shorter man.
Ichigo isn't grinning anymore. He's studying me, face blank, amber eyes dancing with something I don't know how to label at the moment.
If I was smarter, I would have realized that that was clue numero fucking tres.
Suddenly, it feels like the entire world has come to a complete and utter stand still as Ichigo releases my wrists and gently cups the sides of my face. My eyes get so big, I think they're gonna fall right outta my head.
I don't know what the fuck to do here except stare at him, captured by his riveting gaze. His eyes soften, become something thick and warm. He's straddling my hips, his firm bottom pressed to my...well, yeah, you know. Bad enough he's in that spot to begin with, but now, the look he's giving me, added to the rapidly declining amount of space between our faces, has my stomach doing the cabbage patch and that knucklehead in my shorts getting excited.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
What the fuck is Ichigo doing?
And then...I think I've died and am touring purgatory because Ichigo has his soft, full lips connected to mine and my breath is refusing to go past my throat, stuck in limbo.
My eyes are shot-put discs.
Ichigo has his pretty, brown eyes closed, his long, dark lashes sweeping his cheeks.
Kami, what the hell am I thinking?
Ichigo is kissing me.
Shit.
I'm still frozen in place, swinging indecisively between punching him in his face and...kissing him back.
I guess you can figure out what I did.
I threw sanity to the wind, grabbed the back of his orange head and kissed the hell outta him.
Tongue and all.
I have no idea, to this day, what the fuck came over me, but I can tell you this...
Ichigo is a really good kisser.
His tongue writhes in my mouth, lighting a fire in my loins as I battle him back. I'm not about to submit to him in this. No fucking way. I tighten my hold in his hair and grunt, usurping his will to fight.
I grin into the kiss, triumphant. I've won the dominance war and Ichigo is finally complacent, turning to putty in my hands.
Then...he fucking whimpers and I don't know what to do with that. If Ichigo was a chick, things would be different. He would be underneath me, taking all eight inches of my -
Oh.
Shit.
I was seriously just thinking of fucking the dog shit outta him.
What the hell is going on in my head? Bad enough I'm kissing him.
Kami, but it feels fucking AWESOME.
Ichigo is grinding against my lower half and I'm trying not to buck my hips and rub him harder against my shuddering dick.
Oh, yeah.
I'm hard as hell and Ichigo is torturing me.
Finally, I can't take it because he's just run his surprisingly soft hand over my taut nipple. It's nearly cutting through the fabric of my shirt, it's so hard.
I'm a simmering volcano on the brink of eruption and Ichigo is forcing my hand.
I shove him away and he lands backwards on his ass, his face a mixture of confusion and mortification. I'm sure my expression mirrors it as I sit up and stare at him.
Silence reigns supreme and all I can do is wonder what the hell made Ichigo kiss me like that.
Is he gay?
Does he think I"M gay?
Sheesh.
I can't even get angry at him because I DID kiss him back, but I'm uncomfortable in his presence, so I stand, slowly gather my bag and head for the door, mid-section still aching and chest still on fire.
"G-Grimmjow, I'm sorry! I-I-" Ichigo stutters and the look on his face is frightened and helpless.
He looks like he's gonna cry.
I don't like that, so I turn and face him fully. "Whataya want me ta say, Ichigo?"
Crap. That's not what I meant to say at all.
Ichigo bites his kiss-swollen bottom lip and stares at the blue, padded floor of the dojo, tension practically thick enough to slice with a plastic spoon. When he looks up at me, nut-brown eyes glistening ominously, my chest constricts and all my air is sapped.
"I'm sorry. I-" he starts. I cut him off.
"Don' cry," I growl, hating myself for being the cause of his distress. "I jus' need ta think, yeah?"
His face isn't so crestfallen anymore, but his eyes still hold that wet look, "You're not pissed with me?"
I look away, shame crawling over me like a second skin. How could I be pissed with HIM, when I kissed him back?
"Nah, I ain't pissed wit' ya, Ichigo. I jus' gotta think an' I'll get back ta ya, OK?" I mumble, trying to ease my way out of the dojo without starting World War III.
Ichigo gives me this look that screams skeptical, but then he nods and walks away in the other direction. His shoulders are hunched in defeat and it makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I don't like seeing him that way.
I leave the dojo and sit in my car for over a half an hour, just thinking.
Ichigo kissed me. I kissed him back. I liked it. Truth be told, I would definitely do it again.
I drive off with entirely too much on my mind and praying that I make it home safely.
XxxxxxX
(sigh)
This is where you're gonna get mad and disappointed in me. I know you've noticed the date of this entry by now and it's not a fluke. It really is days later and this is the first time I've seen Ichigo since the dojo incident.
I avoided him.
I know. I told him I would think about it and let him know what I came up with, but you've gotta understand...I kissed a guy. I've never even thought about guys like that before.
Not until Ichigo, anyway.
It fucked with me. Hell, it still does.
So, I avoided Ichigo like he was the black plague.
I was wrong for it, but...(sigh) I don't even know.
I came to class today and as soon as I stepped foot inside, not only did Kenpachi tear me a new one, but I could feel Ichigo's gaze boring holes into me. I could fucking taste his anger and frustration like it was a shot of whiskey.
That's why I can't sit still. That's why I can't stop thinking about him.
I know you're wondering, "Well, Grimm-idiot, what DID you come up with?", right?
Yeah, I know.
Well, I came up with three things.
One: I think I might be gay, or at the very least, bisexual.
Two: It doesn't bother me the way I thought it would or should.
Three: I need to apologize to Ichigo because I want him.
Badly.
Shit, class is over. We'll talk again.
Later, fucking "journal"...
~Grimm
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Diary of a Grown Ass Man