tampered | Log; complete

Grimmjow had noticed the clash of reiatsu long before Hinamori's knock. He'd seriously considered running out to watch, to make sure there was no truce violation, and especially to make sure the shinigami didn't come out the loser. But then he sensed her fleeing, and his concerns faded into the corners of his mind.

He was not at all surprised, then, when he opened the door to find her wounded and bleeding on his doorstep. He was hit with two things at once: first, the immediate cessation of ticking; and secondly, her fears. He sneered slightly at visions of the tattooed redhead and the Kira punk -- dying? Leaving? Abandoning her? -- but he kept his silence as he stepped aside to let her enter.

"Cirucci's a fucking idiot," Grimmjow finally commented, shutting the door behind Hinamori and stalking into the kitchen. "Aizen's gonna bite her head off when he finds out."

She watched him leave, biting back tears. What he'd said earlier still hurt, but she let it slide, let it go. It just wasn't worth it. She didn't even try to defend Cirucci, even though the Privaron clearly hadn't been thinking straight - if she'd been thinking at all - and she didn't bother mentioning that Aizen probably didn't care what happened to her.

Hinamori simply waited, standing in place, shaking hand finding the spot where the adjunct badge had been torn from her. She'd need to get that back at some point.

He'd retreated into the kitchen without any purpose but to rid his mind of those annoying thoughts, but all in vain. He flinched at a clash of swords, the ring resounding in his mind.

He had to busy himself. She was wounded, he should tend her, even if it meant reliving a death and a fight and those two. So, with abrupt motions, Grimmjow set about making an ice pack for that burn. The other wounds weren't as serious.

"Why didn't you go find a healer?" he asked her, his back still turned.

"I don't know." She didn't, really didn't, but couldn't stand watching his back. Too cold. Too full of pain. "I just... came here instead." She shrugged halfheartedly, wincing slightly from the effort.

"...I can go find Isane if you'd rather."

With the makeshift ice pack in hand, Grimmjow returned to the sitting room where Hinamori stood, eyes cast to the floor. He guided her to the couch, pressing on her shoulder with a little more force than necessary to get her to sit.

"It's fine." He sat beside her and pressed the ice against her burn. "You're here, so I might as well do something for you." His eyebrow twitched, the only indication of the fear-born visions attacking his mind.

She winced again, from the push, from the ice, it didn't matter why exactly, she just did. But he wasn't leaving her alone and that did. Registered faintly with her as a good thing. She held her hand out, half expecting him to ignore it but hoping, really hoping he would just take it, hold it.

"Thank you."

She was either too absorbed by the pain or just very good at ignoring his own fears projecting. Grimmjow wasn't sure which one he preferred, and he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing either, being around her on a curse day like this. His eyes flicked down at her outstretched hand, and he hesitated for a beat before folding it within his own.

He leaned in and rested his forehead against her own, suppressing a flinch at another clash of steel. "You idiot." His softened tone betrayed the insult. "You shouldn't have come here."

Ah, she blushed, glad for the touch, closing her eyes to block out the other part of it. It wasn't real, hadn't, wouldn't happen, after all. "There was no where else to go." Barely a whisper, but loud enough.

"I told you I was coming before." Her free hand came up, and even blinded found the bone mask, cool against shaking fingers, still oddly reassuring. She smiled slightly at that, wanting to pull him closer, needing to be comforted. "I'm sorry. I wanted to be here."

The corners of his lips twisted into a smirk to substitute for the smile he lacked. Despite the images flashing in his mind, despite the turned backs and dead bodies, she'd still wanted to see him. "I'm glad to hear that."

He kissed her briefly, then, with his one hand still keeping the ice on her burn, he pulled her onto his lap. His other hand moved slowly up her arm, checking the severity of her injuries. "You can come here any time, you know. But next time, try not to bleed too much."

She squeaked slightly as he moved her, blush deepening. "I'll try." Still quiet, she clung to him, both arms finding their way around his neck. "It's not her fault, though. She didn't, she was... Unstable."

Defending the Privaron was the last thing she wanted to do, but it was true. Hinamori was sure she wouldn't have done it normally, positive, too trusting perhaps, but simply the way she was.

"Of course it was. She should've known better. I even told her that killing you would be a violation of the damn truce, but did she listen? No." He was angry -- no, he was downright furious -- because he'd demanded that Cirucci leave Hinamori alone, and the Privaron had gone and disobeyed that order. He made up his mind then that even if Aizen punished her, he would still mete out his own retribution.

"It's a good thing you're smart enough not to get yourself killed, especially by the likes of her." Finding nothing serious on her arm and shoulder, but noting the lack of adjunct badge, Grimmjow moved onto the blood at her side.

"No, it's not. She was already wounded, in pain. Her fear was... getting the better of her." The blush was, if anything, only deepening further as he felt out her wounds, and she bit back a hiss as he touched a particularly deep cut, hiding it with a small, nervous smile even as she opened her eyes, intent on only looking at him and ignoring - as best as she could - the images of Aizen and her.

It was hard, and Hinamori was in no mood to fight against it, but she did, had to. "Don't be mad at her," she whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder, resting it there.

"Then she's weaker than I thought if she's affected so easily," he snapped, ignoring the fact that he was just as affected by Hinamori's fears.

"You know," he said, kissing her on the forehead as she nestled against him, "I should put something on those cuts of yours to stop the bleeding." He smirked again, pressing his hand against the deepest wounds, knowing that would have to suffice. "But this is way too comfortable."

Hinamori hissed that time, tightening her grip on him with the smallest of whimpers. "They'll heal anyway. It's fine," she managed, shifting slightly, finding the situation somewhat awkward but not unpleasant in any way. "All things heal." She should, probably, close them up at least, but she couldn't be bothered, didn't feel like letting go to expend the effort.

"Don't move just yet. I wanted to tell you... It's not one-sided." The smallest of smiles, and the dark haired girl shifted again, lifting her head to kiss him gently before murmuring again, "it's not."

Of course it would hurt, but it was good for damming the blood flow, and he would rather not have her bleed all over the furniture. If he had his way, he'd rather not have her bleed anywhere at all, so he murmured, "Still, go to one of your medics," despite the fact that she already would.

Her words and kiss were reassuring, and the chagrin he felt at another onslaught of her fears lessened considerably. He hummed his approval, adding, "You know I'm a jealous bastard," before dipping his head to claim her lips again.

Her simple response of "oh" was cut off, but she didn't mind that much. Had no reason to mind. It wasn't like she was saying much, anyway, and she gave in, unresisting.

At least, until she was reminded of what he was afraid of and the small shinigami pulled back, avoiding his gaze. It just had to be that, didn't it? Slipping a hand free to settle just above her stomach, Hinamori rested her head against his chest, eyes closed tight. "Sorry..."

Sighing, Grimmjow turned his gaze to the ceiling, scowling slightly as another pool of blood flashed across his vision. "It's not your fault." He put aside the now-warm and partially melted ice pack, raising that hand to stroke Hinamori's hair. "You said it's not real, and I'll make sure it'll stay that way."

He wasn't sure what to say after that. He wouldn't apologize for what he saw as her fears, not in the least, but since they were already on the topic, he might as well address them. "Your... fears. ...They aren't real either."

She could tell he was uncomfortable about them, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. Hitsugaya being killed, her friends leaving her, having to fight, they were all things Hinamori didn't want happening. Real or not, thoughts like that still bothered her, but she managed to smile sadly.

"I know." It was all she offered, aware he probably didn't want to talk about it, he'd already, said, after all, that he was jealous. Instead, she moved to free Tobiume from her side, fingers still somewhat shaky as they undid the ties.

And she was right, he didn't want to talk about it. When they were alone, together, all he wanted to focus on was them, with no other outside parties disturbing their peace.

"Need help?" he asked when he saw that her hands still wavered. Though he wasn't really in the position to help, considering that one of his hands was still pressed against her wounds and now very slick with her blood. He really needed to put something on it.

"I'll live," she muttered with a nervous giggle, the sword finally free after a few seconds of tugging. Placing it as gently as she could - given how she was sitting - on the floor, she turned her attention back to him with another weak smile.

The worst wounds were the ones he was covering, so leaving the deeper cuts on her side for now, she moved to close the ones on her arms first, letting her normal guard drop on her reiatsu as she did so. "I'm not entirely good for nothing, you know."

"I never said you were," he said absently as he watched her work. He wasn't too familiar with kidou given that no arrancar could wield it, and Aizen, Tousen, and Gin never found the need to use it -- well, except when the 9th division's ex-captain burned Grimmjow's detached arm. But before the memory could rile him, the Espada refocused his attention to the woman sitting on his lap.

"Just making sure you don't jump to conclusions." The giggle this time was more relaxed, Hinamori already feeling better. "I'll have Isane check them later, but for now," she pushed his hand out of the way, wrinkling her nose slightly at the blood, "this will do."

She didn't bother paying any mind to the burn, knowing it would be better to let Isane see to it, so the small shinigami contented herself with closing the last of the cuts, trying not to get blood all over her hands as she did so.

"Good." A part of him -- the part still very concerned about her injuries -- relaxed at last. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he trusted Isane enough to do a good job, and the mere thought of Hinamori in her care set his mind at ease.

Grimmjow noted her slight aversion to blood, and his trademark grin slowly affixed itself onto his face. "You know, you should wash that blood off," he said blithely. As he leaned in to nip at her neck, a hand strayed to the ripped fabric at her side, fingers slipping through the holes to prod gently at her ribs. "It won't do to have you stained, clothes or skin."

Hinamori squeaked again, almost falling backwards in surprise before she caught herself, frowning lightly, dark blush giving her away. "H-hey! It's not my fault, I didn't know she hated me that much," she shot back, nervous enough from the touch. Not having a change of clothes didn't help, either.

"Besides. I don't feel like moving," she added with a pout, trying very hard to find something else to distract him with, as much as she would have liked the chance to take a shower.

He chuckled at her embarrassment, all too amused by the blush and the stammer. "She does. She hates all of you that much. But," and this he murmured into her cheek, "let's not talk about that right now."

Grimmjow let his hand fall to the white sash around Hinamori's waist. "You don't have to move," he remarked as he fingered the fabric. "And I might have something for you to wear afterwards, too."

If she hadn't been on his lap - which, she decided, she would not let him do again - it would have been easy enough to escape. But she was, and Grimmjows reassurance that she didn't have to move and that he might have something didn't help in the slightest.

"I can manage," Hinamori finally retorted, pushing his hand away from the sash. "I can walk on my own. And they're not that bloody, anyway."

He withdrew his hand but the grin remained. Maybe it wasn't that bad, and yes, she could very well walk and shower and change on her own without any assistance... but damn it, this was Grimmjow. Though, he supposed, there was a time and a place for such.

The arrancar nudged her off his lap. "Then go while I find something. You don't wanna scare your medic into thinking you were assaulted, do ya?"

Wait, she hadn't even-

Oh, she blushed at that, mumbling something incoherent as she stood, finding great, great comfort in the floor. But, she couldn't deny that a shower would be nice and with a small frown she crossed her arms.

"Fine." Before she left though - if Cirucci hadn't been thinking straight, then she clearly didn't think at all - Hinamori tugged at his hand, the one covered in blood. Smiling shyly, she kissed his cheek, releasing his hand at the same time. "Isane won't think that, anyway. You already told her your plan, remember?" The dark haired girl giggled slightly, somewhat nervous but mostly teasing in tone as she slipped out of range, heading for the bathroom.

"Plan?" barely made it out of his mouth as she disappeared into the bathroom, so with a shrug, he stood and wandered into his room, idly licking the blood off his fingers as he went.

He didn't own many clothes, opting for his uniform most days because it was comfortable and familiar. He was positive that nothing would fit Hinamori, but he checked the closet anyway. Sweatpants and a shirt too big for her. Well, it would have to do. It would be warm enough, anyway.

He made his way to the bathroom door and knocked on it. "I'm putting a change of clothes on the bed. I won't be in there with 'em if you're worried about that." He refrained from adding "unless you want me to" and turned to clean up what blood had dripped onto the couch and floor.

The warm water stung slightly, more so on the burn than anything else, but it was easy enough to ignore in favour of getting clean. Satisfied the blood was dealt with and wrapped tightly in a towel, Hinamori investigated his choice in clothing... And frowned.

Not that she'd been expecting much, anyway. Her hakama, fortunately, hadn't suffered any so she opted to keep those, dragging the shirt over her head in light of the current state of the rest of her uniform after making sure all the ties were done correctly. Taking the haircover in hand, she started to twist the wet mess up into its familiar bun as she padded over to the doorway to watch him.

"I can do that, if you want."

There wasn't much spilt blood in the first place, so Grimmjow just shook his head and tossed the rag into the trash can. "It's fine." He walked over to where she stood, grabbed her wrists, and eased her hands away from her hair.

"Let it down once in a while." He'd never seen her with her hair down before; it had always been hidden -- for preference, for convenience, he didn't know which -- but he figured there was no reason to keep it that way now.

She stared at him, wet hair and all, before forcing herself to glance away, free hands on instinct coming to rest above her stomach. "You prefer it down?"

It made her look childish - less so than pigtails, granted - and she'd always worn it up, a habit, to give herself a sense of the age she sort of was as opposed to the age she'd died at. And part of it was the maturity thing, for the captain she now feared. But she ignored that in favour of the other side of the argument, deciding that he really didn't need to know.

He shrugged as he threaded his fingers through the black tresses, noting her reaction but not commenting. Whatever her reasons for putting her hair up, she could keep them, as they probably involved a friend he didn't want to hear about.

"I've never seen it down," he answered, bowing slightly to kiss the top of her head, lingering there a moment to memorize her scent. "I don't really care if you put it up or down or whatever. It's your hair."

She couldn't argue with an answer like that, blush already firmly settled in place as she moved to hug the Espada. "I guess."

Happy for the time being, she turned her gaze up with a small smile, doing a better job of ignoring the vision this time. "Do you mind if I stay here for now?"

He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to put pressure on her untended burn. He found he didn't mind the ringing of swords so much anymore.

"Sure, why not. You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." He paused, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't say anything more because he knew -- or he hoped, anyway -- that she'd insist otherwise.

He was right, of course, and as flustered as ever she shook her head, sighing softly. "I think not." Hinamori didn't offer what she did think, leaving it to him. He knew, anyway.

Especially given the smirk he barely contained, a smirk she fully intended to get rid of. Of course, issuing a challenge like that - even unheard and simply to herself - was a bit stupid, but she had her stubborn moments. And this was certainly one of them, her on tiptoes and still having to pull him down to meet her, kissing him expectantly.

What a nice turn of events.

Grimmjow returned the kiss, perhaps a little rougher than he should have, one hand tangling in her hair at the back of her head and the other falling to her hip. His height was enough to force her backwards, and he would take full advantage of that, though navigating towards the bed would prove slightly difficult.

He also had to remind himself that this was Hinamori, not Cirucci or one of the other Numeros. He'd have to be a little more careful if he was going to have his way.

It wasn't quite what she'd had in mind, but she was otherwise occupied and made no effort to complain, letting him push her back, doing her best not to trip over her own feet - or his - in the process. It briefly occurred to her that this, what was happening, was part of the reason she'd wanted to say no before but...

To hell with reasons, really. They never quite matched up to expectations, after all.

It didn't take long for them to hit the edge of the bed. Balance gave way to gravity and Grimmjow let himself fall, catching himself on his elbows so as not to crush the shinigami beneath him. He mused briefly that though the view was familiar, his partner was not, and his grinned only widened at the possibility that today, despite the curse, would be the perfect time and place.

"Didn't expect this from the bleeding vice-captain on my doorstep," he whispered into her ear, tongue flicking her earlobe. "You don't stop surprising me."

She blushed, slightly breathless - from the kiss, from being pushed back, it didn't really matter - struggling with a response. Quite why, she did not know. After all, it wasn't like it was first time he'd kissed her, wasn't the first time he'd had her pinned beneath him and yet -

"I'm surprising myself." A brief frown, before she pulled his attention back to her. "I make no promises," was all the dark haired girl murmured before kissing him again, really unsure as to where this was going.

"That's good to know." And it was. It served Grimmjow quite well, actually, and though Hinamori hadn't quite fathomed the implications of their situation (judging by her slighty bewildered expression), she'd find out soon enough.

The arrancar moved away from her lips, licking at her jawline before trailing kisses down her neck. That would distract her for a bit -- until, of course, his hand slipped underneath the hem of her shirt to caress bare skin.

She... didn't mind, actually. Not that much, although she did laugh nervously as the hand came close to her scar, moving to halt it. "Um..."

It didn't help that she was assaulted by his fears once more, and even though she kissed him reassuringly, it was clear she was feeling more than a little bit awkward.

He stayed his hand but not his thumb as it stroked her ribs. He expected her to be hesitant, but it wasn't in his nature to back down at the first sign of discomfort. He just had to try a little harder, that was all.

"Something wrong, Momo?" His voice was hoarse with want.

She blushed at the tone, glancing off to the side. There were plenty of things wrong with the situation, mostly stemming from her own insecurities and while she'd be the last person to admit that she didn't mind in the slightest the way he was clearly ignoring her hesitation in favour of continuing his show of affection she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't.

Hinamori smiled shyly though, having already given up on the stupid challenge, and instead trying to distract him - and herself. "I-" No, that wasn't right. She tried again, meekly murmuring "I don't know if I want this," against rather painful images.

His smirk vanished abruptly and his eyes shut as the blood-stained floor and his own released zanpakutou, even if it was Hinamori's vague mental image, flared glaringly in his mind. He sat back, all mood gone, and raised a hand to his forehead.

"Damn this curse," he snarled, opening one eye to peer down at the shinigami still sprawled on his bed. He briefly entertained the idea of just taking her with or without consent, but no... He'd be a gentlemen this time. She was different, after all.

Forcing herself to sit up, she nuzzled against his non-masked cheek, resigned. "I'm sorry. But... I still want to be here." Was that enough? It was the truth, at any rate, and hopefully he wouldn't throw it aside as a weak attempt to console him. It wasn't, it simply wasn't, she wanted him to know that but he was always taking the things she said the wrong way.

"The curse will go away and... We'll see?"

He said nothing to that, simply accepting the comfort and kissing her forehead in quiet gratitude. Under normal circumstances, he would've probably snarled and stalked out of the room, but the curse completely overwhelmed his disappointment.

"Yeah," he said quietly, lowering himself onto the mattress. He wasn't tired at all, just generally annoyed and wanting to forget all of the fears he'd seen that day through blissful, peace-granting sleep.

She sat watching him for a minute, wondering if maybe she shouldn't have tried in the first place but she was here, had come. Even though it had only served to depress him again. Stupid, she told herself, before moving to curl up at his side, just wanting to be there, do something that wasn't a mistake on her part.

Pulling his hand to her - she hadn't lain that close just in case - Hinamori kissed his palm gently, smiling softly. "Thank you."

Log; complete

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